Part II - Family History - The Devin + ickgirl Saga
Date Thursday, March 28, 2024 - 07:37 PM PST
Topic Tales From the Ick!


I feel clammy and warm in my long black coat. It's October 31, 1999, sometime near noon. I'm walking along the waterfront, trying to remember exactly where I can catch a ferry to Vashon Island. What if he wants me to go to his house? I have got to get the ferry back at five o'clock. I wore my watch today, five o'clock. What if I WANT to go to his house? There are children all over the place dressed like Barney or one of the Teletubbies. Since when do kids go trick-or-treating this early in the afternoon? I look down at the giant pomegranate I've been carrying all this way. At least this will give me something to talk about. Pomegranates and kids in fuzzy suits.
It dawns on me that I haven't told anyone where I'm going. Not a soul knows, except perhaps Rae but she lives clear across the country. Besides, she's Devin's friend, really. I'm sure he won't be telling her about chopping me to bits. Unless she's in on the elaborate plot! I'm keenly aware that kids are wondering what I'm "supposed to be" for Halloween; which makes me grin as I clomp my way up a flight of stairs to what I think is the ferry terminal. Back down the stairs I clomp, rushing now, quarter in hand. I've got to call him and let him know I'm catching the boat now. In 3 minutes. Hurry. Hurry.

Boy voice: "Ok, I'll come get you."

I hang up the phone, pay my fare and board the rickety little boat. I wonder if I get seasick on these types of boats too? In the teeny bathroom I add a touch of makeup to my unmade face, mess up my recently chopped hair. Ten more minutes and I'll be there. What would the people close to me think about think about this? Of course I won't tell anyone, I don't need the lectures. I'm a broken bird without a home, does it even really matter what today brings? At least it's something.

I spot him as soon as we get close to shore. Standing all alone, maybe he's smoking. In a long black coat, hair slightly damp, waiting for...something. I wonder if he's nervous. I wonder if he thinks I'll do the chopping and he'll be the bits. Walking up the ramp, fearing I'll trip or stub my toe or something equally graceful, I wonder where to place my eyes. Do I stare at my destination or at the water? or the mountains? or pretend to look for something in my bag? Chapstick is always the answer in these uncertain moments. I slowly apply some raspberry goodness to my lips. Pomegranate concealed in my coat, I approach The Stranger. He smiles. I smile. With nothing to say, I shove the pomegranate his way.

Awww!

It's amazing. The social grace one can achieve with fruit. All formality out the window now, he giggles and we jump into his little car. Hmm, he seems like such a normal person. I suppose all boys who chop girls into bits seem "normal."


(To be continued...)

Part I can be found here
This article comes from Shmeng
http://www.shmeng.com/

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