Kate and I seemed to have developed a pattern. She would come over, a friend of mine would show up in crisis, she would intervene, and I would be left alone ... a bystander, if you will. I suppose, in a way, the distractions helped me avoid confronting my feelings for Kate, at least directly with her. I suppose I was pretty clear about how I felt about her inside, but it was those intimate showings that I so frequently avoided.
I felt funny leaving the two of them in front of my apartment waiting for a cab. The funny feeling wasn't so much jealousy, although, there was a bit of that mixed in, even though they were going to meet Tracy for dinner. But I felt for the first time in a long time like I was going to miss something by not being at dinner. It was as though I was starting to care again. About what, I had yet to determine, but it was a start.
Nothing signaled this more than feeling sad for Max and Tracy. Especially Max. And thinking about all that Kate had been through in her life, and feeling for her—and even more than that, feeling grateful that she felt comfortable enough to share her secrets with me.
Overcome with warmth and emotion, I hugged each of them before walking in the opposite direction to get a cab to take me to Andy's. Another tear found its way out of my eye as I noted, even in the dark sky, how the clouds seemed to shape themselves as a large erect penis, complete with a bulbous scrotum.
Why is it that in moments of vulnerability things always seem to distract me?
YOU ARE READING
Like Dizzy Gillespie's Cheeks
HumorMusician Sam Greene will play the piano at any dingy Chicago establishment that will hire him. At the end of many evenings, he can count on his longtime mentor, jazz great Ben Webster (the piano player, not the sax player,) to join him for a few num...
