Song: Sittin' On The Dock Of The Bay - Otis Redding
A man walked up to me, he was tall, in his sixties. He slumped his shoulders to meet mine, ducking his head under to meet my eyes. I wasn't averting his eyes, but I would of had to touch the crown of my head to the middle of my back if I were going to meet his.
"Do you mind if I tell you a quick story?" he asked. He smiled warmly, hesitant but compelled and going for it.
"I'm not really sure why but I saw you and I just have to tell you this."
Someone recently said of my brother, "he's a nice mix of mischievous and friendly." I loved that. Simple and true. Later I thought, and certainly last night, I was an ornery mix of exhausted and not-in- the-mood. I had just completed a marathon day of errands; and one romantic thrill- my son and I followed a tip from a friend and got the last kitten in a Vets free litter of five. We hadn't decided on a name...Tanker? Juvie? These were his suggestions. "Juvie" as in juvenile hall...um. Kinda fun. But she was a girl. Images from the show Women: Behind Prison Walls of tatted up sad and graying tough chicks wasn't the vision I had for this sweet nothing.
I smiled a sure, go ahead, even though YOU'RE KILLING ME, smile and then we both laughed.
"It's ten minutes, I promise," he said.
"No, no, totally," I said. "It's fine." And then for fun, a deadpan, "What."
"Oh, my gosh, that's just like her too," he said, clapping his hands.
Then he got down to it.
"I grew up in California. My dad was a lawyer and his partner was a lawyer too. They had a big family and we had a big family. I was the youngest in mine, and she was the youngest in hers. We did everything together, spent summers at our summer house, our families both had motor boats and they would ride in theirs along side ours (he made his hands act like two boats a couple of inches apart cruising in the water)..."
I nodded.
"One of those last days of summer, when after our families went back up to camp and our dads had cleaned off the boats, me and Alma sat on the edge of the dock. She was eleven and I was ten. I had the biggest crush on her and a box of Cracker Jacks. The prize was one of those gold plastic rings and I gave it to her," he said. "You look just like her. I saw you and I thought, there's Alma."
"Alma?" I asked, intrigued. I tried to think of myself as an "Alma."
"Alma," he said, nodding, smiling. The way he said her name was as if he could taste the breeze off the dock, see her freckles and touch her wind whipped hair. "Alma."
I imagined this tall grey haired man now in his sixties- as a young boy, feet dangling, scooping up a splash of water and spraying it playfully at her feet- distracting her from the seriousness of his feelings. Maybe she squealed and told him to stop. Maybe she kicked back a splash of her own. The sun setting in front of them, their lives setting along with it.
"So, I don't know, sorry," he said, letting me go. "I just had to tell you that."
"I love it," I said. "I can't hear enough love stories. Thank you."
"Oh good, okay," he said. "I wasn't sure."
"Where is she?" I asked.
"Oh," he waved his hand back over time, somethings-are-not-meant-to-be pain around his crinkly eyes, "she's back in California, I'm here, it was just I had such a crush on her."
Yes, it's just 50 years later and you still do. I felt sad.
"It's funny, I shop states and cities now like I used to shop guys. I'm always on Trulia," I laughed, not sure if I was putting across the analogy. Shop was not the right word, not romantic. Sleazy, actually. Alma and sleazy didn't go together. I felt embarrassed. I hoped he understood I appreciated the difference between his treasured past and my present escape. "Right now, Mill Valley is my heartthrob, northern California... Stinson Beach..."
"Two thousand miles I roam just
to make this dock my home." -Otis Redding
I looked at him, no kidding.
"Yup. I grew up in San Francisco and our summer house was in Stinson Beach. That was the dock."
"Wild," I said. "So how big was your family, and hers?"
"We were four, she was of five," he said. "Yep, so... I didn't want to bother you but I saw you and I just had to say it. I'm not really sure why."
"I'm so glad you did," I said. "Hey, maybe it's a sign."
"Well, Mill Valley's like...whoah, you'll need more than a sign."
"Yea, Mill (ion dollar) Valley," I said.
"That's right," he said. Now it seemed I was keeping him.
"Okay, well, bye."
When I got home I found the kitten. I held her by one hand, up in the air, over my face, looking into her green ominous eyes, the last in a litter of five.
"Alma." So named. No Juvie for you.
Sweet, romantic, perfect Alma. She was scared, naturally, so it was hard to get a true sense of her while she was nervous. Her eyes were sharp, pupils dilated in a diabolical trance that would pass after a good night's sleep.
Then we had a good nights sleep. Alma, seemed to have maladjusted to the move. Or she got good and comfortable quick. Within an hour it seemed she urinated on every surface. A stench so bitter and powerful I could taste it. Then she scratched the bejesus out of all of us. I have paper cut-like lacerations from elbow to ankle. I seriously look like I was attacked by an itty bitty Edward Scissor Hands. I noticed our two year old, barely had an unmarked spot on his legs. Hmm. I started thinking, I wasn't quite ready for Alma. Alma might not be ready for us. Then Colbert, came down the stairs. "Mom, can I have chocolate for snack?" he asked. Alma sprang from the back of the room, bounding toward him. She jumped four feet in the air, hurdled an ottoman and still in flight landed on his thigh. She clung there as he yelped in pain, thin claws clutching to his femur. I walked into the basement. Got the kitty carrier and dropped her off outside the Vet where we claimed her.
Somethings are not meant to be. It was just I had such a crush on her. Maybe it's a sign.
"Looks like nothing's gonna change, everything still remains the same. I can't do what ten people tell me to do, so I guess I'll remain the same. " - Otis Redding
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