Whacking Poetic and the Notes to My Future Wife

Chapter 7

Whacking Poetic practiced regularly at Mack's house in Chapel Hill. He had a run-down old house off of North Graham Street that had been passed down from generation to generation of Chapel Hill musicians, and was affectionately referred to as Hooterville. The origin of the name was long ago forgotten, but was either a reference to the Hooverville shacks and tents from the Great Depression since most semesters a half dozen or more musicians split the small house into living zones, or it was an homage to the old Green Acres television show. Hooterville had been the host of some of the more notoriously raucous parties over the years, a tradition Mack maintained with pride. The Chapel Hill police knew Mack by name but somehow his good ole boy charm had kept him out of trouble.

The house was walking distance from Local 506, the Cat's Cradle and most of the other great music bars on Franklin Street, which meant Mack could stay up drinking late every Saturday evening, go home with whoever would take him and then head straight over to Crooks Corner on Sunday morning for the best Shrimp and Grits brunch on the east coast without once getting behind the wheel.

For Sam, it was close enough that, over the years, if he wasn't up to driving the half hour back to Durham after a late-night gig, he could sleep on Mack's ragged, vomit-infused couch and then get up early and walk ten minutes down to Weaver Street Market in Carrboro, Chapel Hill's western neighbor town that appends Chapel Hill. Weaver Street was a community owned cooperative natural foods store and cafe that typified what Mack was constantly referring to as the "hippy" culture in the region. The lawn in front of the Market was known locally as "Carrboro's front yard," an endearing nickname it maintained despite the fact that years of music festival trampling had eliminated all of the grass. The front yard was an inviting place to throw a blanket down under a giant shade tree on a Sunday morning and listen to a free concert, from jazz to bluegrass to rock, while you drank your organic and locally roasted coffee with dozens of new friends. Most of Carrboro raved about the food too, although Sam had to pick carefully to find a plain bagel among the smorgasbord of artichoke and sundried tomato quiche, sweet potato hash browns, and locally grown mango scones.

Three nights after Alex had walked out on Sam, he was sitting on the attic hardwood floor at Hooterville where they rehearsed with his acoustic guitar in his lap and a pencil in his hand. There was a piece of paper on the floor with lyrics scribbled in several directions. Mack was in the kitchen downstairs and the rest of the band had yet to arrive. Sam was having a hard time concentrating, as he had struggled with the same questions now for several days to the point of anger. What does being separated even mean? Did Alex want to date other people? Do separated people even date other people? Should he take off his wedding ring? Was Alex actually planning to get divorced? And if she was, what's the point of being separated? What the hell was he supposed to tell his mom? And everyone else in the band and at school? What was Alex telling their common friends? If they told everyone, wouldn't it be weird for everyone when they get back together?

This would also be one more reason for his mom to think he was a loser. As a former musician herself, she had spent her whole life trying to steer Sam away from that lifestyle and towards the more respectable and stable doctor suburban life. She would be absolutely devastated by this news. With her health problems, she had enough to worry about. Sam needed to simply not tell her and hope that things work out.

Being separated was a shock in practical ways as well. Sam had stared at the bills that she normally paid for an hour the night before without finishing. He wasn't sure which of the three dog foods they had to give to Jolene in the mornings or even why they needed three kinds. It simply felt weird in the morning not to share the newspaper or the coffee. And they only had one car. Since the busses were free in Chapel Hill, it was decided that whoever was staying in Durham would get the car, which meant Sam had it for a couple of weeks. He was sure that she'd come to her senses by then, but if not, they would trade in December, and he would find someplace to stay while she drove back and forth from the house.