After a few hours, I opened my eyes and rolled on towards Ian, facing him now.
With his eyes closed he looked more innocent and unsuffered. Perhaps I knew less about him, because from what I had figured out, everyone was suffering at every point.
Like me, like the old man and like Marry green.
I could not sleep back. I kept thinking about Marry, and the first thing I thought about her was that nobody had ever thought about her probably. And about how besmirching it is to make a person another person.
She might have been looking over the old man for years and every day she would become more like him. Legless and decrepit. Maybe she waited for Bob to die with an idea of unfairness of what she would wait for.
I thought about my mother, and her eyes. The way she had stopped looking at herself in the mirror. Her golden hair shedding slowly from her head, making her balder and she would not care. She would smile and open the gates every night for me and like Marry she would say with her elegant smile.
“Welcome to the evening.”
I withdrew myself from Ian’s hand encircling my waist, slowly, and rose with my legs crossed, still half covered in the blanket. I could look the old man sleeping now, his eyes closed, and for a while he too seemed to be unsuffered and escaped of all the things he had in his head.
I reached out to my bag which laid down under the old man’s bed and priced it to my lap. I searched for my pen and notebook and pulled out with almost no sound. Then in the meagre light from every small lightened up thing, I wrote a letter to Marry green.
I finished up and kept back the bag at its place. The old man had awoken, he rolled on the bed facing me and tucked in his palms under his head, and smiled. I put my finger over my lips and did a shhh. And he nodded.
He whispered through his feeble breath.
I inclined back in my mattress.
I woke up late in the morning. Bob had done away with his usual grooming by then and lain back in his bed against the headrest reading an old novel.
I rose back on my back and smiled towards him in my sleepy eyes. He smiled back and continued reading. Ian awoken a few minutes later.
“Good morning, young fellows.”
Bob said when Ian regained himself back from his eternal sleep.
“Good morning, Bob.”
We freshen ourselves up and had some coffee from Bob’s kitchen.
And then there was time to go.
There are these few minutes, always. Minutes before you leave out of somewhere and they are always somewhat sad for a person like me who would leave a little bit of herself everywhere she would go.
Like if I am ever calling the 911 and they ask me what shit I have gotten myself into. I will tell them the shit is called ‘attachment.’
“You could visit me anytime. We are friends now”
“Yes, surely we will.”
“Gotta go, Bob.”
I said after I finished the coffee.
He said with his arms open.
Ian ran into his arms with me and he hugged us both for a moment.
The old man kept smiling as we left the room.
We waved him a goodbye.
Maybe he wanted to walk.
At the staircase I pulled out my letter to Marry from my bag. I could not find her on getting down, she was not at the door now. I wanted to get back to the old man and ask him if he knew where she was, but that would have ruined the whole goodbye ceremony so I forbid it.
We left the bar. I looked back at it, ‘The Molten Snowman.’ It read.
After a few steps Ian told that he had seen Marry walking in the bar.
I sighed. It would have been easier if I could have found her in first and given her the letter and walked away. But now I did not want to go back, I handled Ian the letter and told him to give it to her.
I stood back near Alaska and saw him leave.
He returned back after a while with car keys whirling in his finger.
We seated ourselves back in Alaska.
I did not ask him what happened back at the bar.
It roof felt melting over our heads, I switched on the A.C.
“Are we still going to the padre?
“What’s your say?”
I questioned back.
“If we are to get back as planned we would be having two hours of the mid noon there. It would not be a rational decision to go.”
He said in a single breath.
“We should go back, we would still have two good days of vacations left at home. Maybe Everett would be back by tomorrow and then we can have some fun in there.”
I said, taking off my shoes and kept my legs crossed over the seat to feel the cool air right on them.
“I am afraid he would not be back until Friday.”
“No problem, we still could have some fun.”
I talked about fun, or having fun, or things associated with fun but I just wanted to go back and see my mother. She was an art. The most beautiful one having the point more than any other art in the world.
I remembered the point.
We drove back to the town. Green mile stones and the grasslands again with would not howl back fear now. I opened the window and let my hand glide with the wind. Watching myself in the side view mirror. I had looked myself after a while. I loved the pink smile.
Ian turned on the radio.
It played ‘Doesn’t Really Matter.’ From Janet Jackson.
“Doesn't matter what your friends tell you
Doesn't matter what my family's saying too
It just matters that I'm in love with you
It only matters that you love me too.
It doesn't matter if they won't accept you
I'm accepting of you and the things that you do”
Ian sung with her.
I did not remember the lyrics so I just moved my fingers in the air with him.
More cars as we approached more towards the city, blocks and streets.
Ian slowed down the car as we reached my block.
“I did not expect it to be so short of a tour, but I enjoyed.”
I said and planted a soft kiss on the back of his hand.
Ian dropped me at my home.
The door was unlocked.
My mother was not in the main hall. She might be in the kitchen I thought.
I skipped myself into the kitchen but it was empty. So I strode to the backyard.
There she was, sitting against the bathroom’s wall. Her legs arched and stiff and her face dumped in between them as she cried softly.