“Sure”, I said. I stood to leave.
“Oh, and bobo, would you get some spray paint? A can of white spray paint?”
“Spray paint? You want peaches and raisins and spray paint? Why?”
“Because I’m hungry, silly. Why else?”
“But why do you want spray paint?, I asked.
She laid back on the rock, her body fully extended and flipped her hair up behind her so that it would dry on the rock. “Thank you, bobo”. She closed her eyes with a faint smile on her face.
I stood and waited for an answer, but she was silent, apparently immersed in her own world of dreaminess.
I retraced my steps up the path, gained the highway, and turned onto our town’s main street. Somehow the town had endured for almost two hundred years and here and there was still an old building that had been built early in that period. But mostly, the town now had a shabby look to it, with buildings that had been put up in the last seventy years or so with no particular planning. As the suburbs had developed and big stores had been built nearby, Main Street had fallen into decline. It was not unusual to see characters loitering on the curbs, sometimes clutching that paper bag wrapped around a bottle that was supposed to fool the police. But the police didn’t really seem to care. They apparently had more important things to do than to roust winos. Lately, as real estate prices had risen, well-to-do young people had taken an interest in the town and had formed a historical preservation society. Their homes on or near Main Street were always tidy and clean. Maybe there was still hope for the town. The jury was still out on that.
I stepped into the market. The owner had died about ten years ago, and his daughter now ran the store. The linoleum, which had once glistened, had spots that were worn through from the big buffer that she still used as her father had instructed her. It was clean anyway. I gathered a few things, the peaches, raisins, and I picked up a loaf of bread. I selected some sliced turkey and some grapes and a few other things. I looked for spray paint but couldn’t find any. Just as I put my things on the counter, I realized I was going to need a can opener. I asked the girl behind the counter and she told me which aisle to look in. I asked about paint too, but she said they didn’t have any. I paid for my things and stepped out onto the sidewalk. The day was still very warm. I remembered that there was an auto parts store two blocks up the street and walked there. I wasn’t sure if a car parts place would have paint, but they did, a lacquered enamel.
As I walked back down to the bridge in the hot sun, I thought, “what am I doing? Maybe she has a buddy down there and this is a setup”. For whatever reason though, I turned at the path and descended to the river. I really didn’t know what to expect. Among the possibilities that occurred to me was that she would not be there at all.
When I stepped back into the dark cool space, I could not see her. Not wanting to look helpless or foolish, I decided not to call out or to stand waiting. Instead I returned to the same rock and sat down. Almost immediately she appeared from my right, walking towards me. She was wearing a pair of oversized men’s jeans and a big cotton shirt, barefoot and she had a bandana on her head. I was relieved to see that she was alone.
“Bobo!”, she said as she came up. She was smiling and bent over the bag of groceries I had brought. “Oh bobo, this is perfect”. She held up the can of peaches and flashed a wide grin. “Peaches!”
“Oh jeez”, I said suddenly, “I didn’t think to get plastic spoons”.
She looked at me with an intent look and then shook her head. “I don’t use spoons, silly. Ever!”
“You never use spoons? What about forks? Knives?”
“Never.”, she said, Things like that capture your spirit. You think you’re using them, but they are actually using you. Be very careful. Always guard your spirit, bobo. Always!”
I began to wonder if the can opener was going to be a problem, but she didn’t seem to object when I pulled it out and opened the can. I had begun to think that maybe we were going to have to bash the can open on a rock.
She reached into the can and pulled out a peach slice. She tilted her head back and slurped it into her mouth, then reached for another. Syrup was dripping down her chin but she paid no mind and kept eating hungrily. She looked up at me. “Don’t you want some?”