January 22, 2003

At Lunch

I am at lunch.

I take a bite of the spinish orzo dish that has been prepared lovely for me. I am taken to the apartment of my now sister-in-law but then just my brother's girlfriend. It was in a bad neighborhood and my parents didn't want them to live there; she was alone and it was dangerous. "So close to the river!" they said - visions of the swamp thing danced in their head? I went there twice, and ate there the second time. The first time they had baby rabbits, and I remember them being cold and lying next to their space heater. We didn't know that they were both living there so she was pretty safe since my brother was trained in the killing of the various river creatures that might appear - salmon was his specialty. It is very strange to see them there in that tiny apartment, smaller even with the bathroom and kitchen than their living room now - the one with nothing in it but the old rabbit cage (and rabbit).

Take another bite.

I am alone, sitting in my apartment at two in the morning. It is a large studio and very quiet - like a tomb almost. It is raining and every twenty minutes like clockwork I hear the bus go by. I open the window to hear the rain, taking off my headphones - not sure what noise prompted me to experience real sound. On my way back to my desk I smell the couple next door's cooking. They don't speak very much English but are very polite. We have never spoken really, I can just tell by body language. I wonder if they think that I can't either since I walk the same way - with my head down - avoiding.

Again.

We are all sitting at my Uncle's table, the cousins and us. He has cooked and since he is a chef it is something very simple - pasta with butter it appears to me but I am too young to understand. This was before the divorce so his kids were there and happy to be there - a strange sort of memory this one, so foreign now.

I wish I had more.

January 22, 2003 06:09 PM