at the end of the day I find 

our true north; our center 

it is well 

       ….and alas 

         always appears 

 

you see, I am not interested in shallow encounters, I am so bored of that. bored of the propositions that are designed to both impress me as well as shock me. so bored of that. you think I can’t be slutty? write slutty? you think I can’t bend in every position any sick fuck might Ai me? and look like I am enjoying it?—and yes, I could too —if it were my mood to; when I choose and —it’s boring if there’s no actual mind behind the mummery

so fucking bored 

side street baskerville a party for tea

 

But by the end of the day, Faun did not want to reflect upon the meeting with the two authorities which, mostly was tedious and all about the fact that Monsieur Pierre Reaux was not kept abreast of the ongoing details of the case. It was a wasted hour of listening to and watching him exclaim and strut over the documents and the paper trail of how Sullivan and she and third party had left him in the dust. 

It just buried Faun under more stupid nonsense. 

Sheila did not see Faun again until after closing time when she handed Faun the cash till,

“What did Inspector Clouseau have to say?—sheeze —you look like you’ve not see daylight in a year! Did you even eat anything all day?”

Faun took the till and quietly started counting the drawer down 

Sheila cleared her throat,

“hello?”

Faun looked up in mid count,

“thirty-seven….” her eyes focused on Sheila and for a second or two it seemed she seemed to go blank. Then she said, “I’m sorry …. yeah—Clouseau needs a clue—I don’t want to get into it, he’s an idiot —but, it’s just more stuff they need—paperwork—total waste of my time….sorry…. I can’t believe it’s so late—I never even saw the sun today….sorry I left you out there on the floor all day.”

“It was your day off, and I wasn’t alone, the girls took a shift today —so, the change might be off—“

Faun dropped the pennies back in the coin slot and looked at Sheila—six foot two black trans beauty wearing one of her usual imaginative ensembles, this one involving a red tartan kilt with a matching hat 

“Oh…. I didn’t realize ….” Faun again looked blank 

“Ill do the till— sweetie, why don’t you go home?”

After about a minute of considering and nervously rearranging the objects of the desk in front of her Faun sighed in defeat,

“yeah….” and stood up and reached without looking for her hand bag and coat but paused by the office door. She looked into the office and back at Sheila, “King Leopold?”

“Oh! We have him—I meant to tell you, can we drop him off tomorrow? Gary and he seemed to have hit it off—“

“So, who dropped him off? Who was the guy?”

“Guy,” Sheila said, “his name —that’s his name—“

“But—“ and yet as Faun wished to press for more info on this little mystery her phone alerted with the dismal tone of Pierre Reaux —asking her to fetch yet one more piece of paperwork —this one from Arthur’s office.

It was awhile before Faun finally arrived back at her place in the freezing cold, fumbling for her key hardly noticing any of her surroundings except for the cold and all the snow and so it was with a start that she looked up from removing her boots inside the entrance via her kitchen, by the door that she noticed ….Grant standing there looking at her —still inside the partition between her place and the other side that lead out to ….the other kitchen and —to salmon sofas

“What….” the words seemed not to come to Faun as she stared up at him 

He looked ….terrible ….it was clear he had been traveling but it was not just a look of travel weary, it was something deeper. 

He stared at her. His dark hair and face were groomed as usual but something was obviously wrong; he appeared slightly crumpled in his woolen pullover and gray trousers 

“Something’s —wrong….” Faun said it looking at him as she carefully approached him in her stocking feet 

Slowly his eyes met hers; red veined and tired but it made the green of one of them almost brilliant 

“Don’t ask me,” he said and just stared at her. His eyes took a deadly serious look. “Don’t ask,” he said again 

Faun took a step back and started to turn away,

“all ri—“ but he reached for her as she started to move away. Faun stumbled and let him steady her as she looked again up at him. She stared into his eyes and said again, “all right ….” as she took a deep breath, “would you like tea?”

a royal Reaux side street mystery

Faun arrived on foot before the sun and found her way to the cash office without having to flip any lights. She focused on the neat list in her head of all the tasks of the day…. but what about King Leopold? 

It had not crossed Faun’s mind once to believe the king could be anywhere but with Grant 

and since Grant was nowhere to be found, it seemed a moot topic until she found Sheila’s handwritten yellow post-it note laying stuck to—right on top of the shop’s electric bill: “almost forgot to tell you—Guy called saying he is dropping off King Leopold”

which threw a wrench in her plot to stay focused on her to-do list and not get distracted 

Nevermind the donation boxes of books cluttering up the path to the public bathrooms that needed to be inventoried and shelved or tossed, not a safety hazard but —by early mid- morning even this was to be evaded by a surprise policeman visit 

Sullivan and Pierre Reaux both arriving through the shop’s front doors and one glaring her down as Faun dealt with a line of people whose only literary interest was reading the price out of their expected lattes

Out of nowhere, Sheila arrived too, appearing from the stacks and saying,

“I’ll take care of the line, why don’t you take Mr and Mrs Smith over there?”

“You have great timing,” Faun looked up and without argument stepped away from the counter and headed out to the floor over to the ‘Smiths’

“Can I help you with something?” Faun glanced first at officer Sullivan and then at the French Canadian 

“Perhapz ve can ‘av a word in a more private eh—rroom, nes pas?”

Faun glanced at Sheila who waved with a wink and then looked over at Sullivan whose eyes looked serious 

“Great,” Faun said

An alley way called Dawn off the side street

She felt differently she realized, staring out over the street in front of her, watching the coats of snow melt under the pummel of the constant rain which replaced the days of snow storms 

She had felt differently for awhile.

The tone of life had cast a new altered scheme of shades ….and it was so gradual, this change …. it was not possible to pin point any exact moment of the shift 

but there was a shift …. 

Faun looked down at her chapped hands— now softened ….but they still slightly stung, if she noticed ….

why had she come here….? and why had Grant been able to distract her from ….distract her from what is reality. But the change began when it was still present 

   and the events —a few shocking deaths between other

events …. smeared what remained of the dreams 

What world did those dreams belong in?

Sheila had no other message from Grant— so, it seems ….he forgot her, and now having shut up this part of the house Faun turned away from the window. She kept her eyes away from the salmon colored couches and focused on the door through which would close out these recent memories ….

and once through that door….Shut….with a click….she leaned against it and stared ahead at the interior of her little kitchen ….her bald reality glared back as she wondered how it was possible that he had achieved this ability to distract her from reality —that reality ….

And now with everything back in order at the shop and the bills sorted out and replied to whatever it was that Pierre Reaux needed (copies of the mud print photos) now done 

Faun faced the empty place ignoring the mockery of cheap fixes that existed for dates and fake friends —how did he distract her from that? she slid down the door and sat on the floor ….not a flashy red carpet promise, it was just—the ease that existed when he was around; a calm in which to think and breathe— was it illusion ….?something she had conjured up and blindly had believed in—her fault—so….it should be easy to conjure again, right? for herself ….

Faun reminded herself that he would have to contact her eventually about the book shop 

wouldn’t he? 

It suddenly occurred to her why Grant was able to distract her from the brutalities of life 

No back street boy Side street mystery

It was Sheila that had kept the bookshop running when Faun was away and had volunteered to pick Faun up at the airport upon her return, whereupon using the opportunity to fill Faun in on all the latest gossip,

“Ohhh! Lenny and Lonnie broke up; newsflash,” was one of the first things that had come out of her mouth before Faun had fastened the seatbelt 

Even so….

“Wow, that’s a shocker, even for an outsider like me,” Faun was saying as Sheila pulled onto the road, the full mountain range, the now familiar backdrop, lending the moment a kind of nostalgic scene within Faun's poetic dreamy mind 

….watching those quaint and quiet familiar little road roll by with their sleepy mystery at this late hour after twelve midnight 

Faun thought about this now as she sat in the shop’s office…. weeks of figures to correct (Sheila wasn’t great with business numbers) and a head ache of deposits to go through with the bank (as money was not really Sheila’s forte either), but the shop was clean; it hadn’t burnt down; the customers were happy; the sales very good so…. 

how could Faun complain ? And it kept her busy from thinking too much about …. life 

Life …. as reminders of its ephemeral gift/lesson is only given on loan and seeing everyone again …. made her realize how time is going by— everyone looked so ….old

and she found herself often in a corner terrified with the clear reality of this…..

all holiday fun included on her overwhelming trip she had returned from but ….also …. the lack of any presence of Grant 

And as Sheila had driven Faun home from the airport, hardly taking a breath about everything Faun had missed about everyone in the neighborhood …. Faun waited 

she waited for any mention about Grant

They were all the way on the road they lived on and Faun had looked up, automatically ….to his window ….as Sheila drove past the entrance before pulling into the driveway, next to Faun’s yellow Volvo. She had noticed though ….his light was not on and the window was completely dark. 

Faun hesitated and took a moment as she reached to open the passenger side door, clearing her throat and looked over at Sheila as she also opened her door to get out

“Uh—any messages?” Faun hesitated to ask but then vaulted herself out of the seat, not wanting to appear desperate 

With her backpack and carryon, Faun had stood outside as she slammed it shut, noticing that Sheila looked at her blankly. Sheila followed her to the door

“Oh wait! That’s right!” Sheila said as Faun turned the door nib to go in—but Sheila cut in front of her, “his message! I’m supposed to check your place before I let you in when I drop you off—you meant English guy—I never remember his name, if I think of Depeche Mode, it comes to me; Grant—“

It was too cold to ask as Sheila ran in to turn lights on and check all the rooms. Faun had waited outside shivering 

When the coast was clear, Faun had to wait for her teeth to stop chattering to speak and when she finally could say something, she said,

“I don’t get the connection but—was that the only message he left?”

“You know,” Sheila had rolled her eyes, “British guy, British band—S and M —Grant ….lets play master and servant —and he looks the type,” was all she could then elaborate upon 

a tail to depart from

there was a day in 2018 during the six months I’d returned here with the desperate hope of seeing Persephone. I walked all the way from Oak Park to Berkley on a hot summer day. it was a devastating day…. as you know, I reached the door but was turned away and had to walk all the way back. it reminded me of a chapter in Katherine (de Roet) by Anya Seton. and as I walked I paralleled our lives ….i remember looking down at the ground as I was almost all the way back. I saw the strangest thing on the ground. It was the black tail of a squirrel —just the tail, like road kill. I remember, I looked all around me for the body of it. There was none. I went around the corner as I approached the shithole I was staying off nine mile and was startled by a black squirrel that jumped in my path— missing a tail 

I don’t know why but I often think of this and that squirrel since that day. so much like another day…. another hundred million miles before I can lay my baby down 

the question is, who do you want next to you when life hits?

or are you better off alone on that narrow final edge into the plank jump into deep oblivion