Женщины

Chapter 92

           IfonlytherewasnoDrayerBabaholdingupthatdamnedSTOPsign.

           ThenitwasSara’sbirthday,Novembernth,Veterans’Day.Wehadmettwiceagain,onceatherplace,onceatmine.Therehadbeenahighsenseoffunandexpectancy.Shewasstrangebutindividualandinventive;therehadbeenhappiness...exceptinbed...itwasflaming...butDrayerBabakeptusapart.IwaslosingthebattletoGod.

           "Fuckingisnotthatimportant,"shetoldme.

           IwenttoanexoticfoodplaceatHollywoodBoulevardandFountainAvenue,AuntBessie’s.Theclerkswerehatefulpeople-youngblackboysandyoungwhiteboysofhighintelligencethathadturnedintohighsnobbery.Theyprancedaboutandignoredandinsultedthecustomers.Thewomenwhoworkedtherewereheavy,dreamy,theyworelargelooseblousesandhungtheirheadsasifinsomesleepystateofshame.Andthecustomersweregreywispswhoenduredtheinsultsandcamebackformore.Theclerksdidn’tlayanyshitonme,sotheywereallowedtoliveanotherday...

           IboughtSaraherbirthdaypresent,themainbitbeingbeesecretion,whichisthebrainsofmanybeesdrainedoutoftheircollectivedomesbyaneedle.Ihadawickerbasketandinit,alongwiththebeesecretion,weresomechopsticks,seasalt,twopomegranates(organic),twoapples(organic),andsomesunflowerseeds.Thebeesecretionwasthemainthing,anditcostplenty.Sarahadtalkedaboutitquiteabit,aboutwantingit.Butshesaidshecouldn’taffordit.

           IdrovetoSara’s.Ialsohadseveralbottlesofwinewithme.

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