“Tara?” He’s asking, tentative. He looks absolutely the same, plus facial hair.
“Omigoddess, I haven’t seen you in years!! How are you?”
“I’m married and I have six kids now! This is my oldest daughter, Rain.”
“Wow… to that same woman? The one that was writing the book?”
Yeah, the same woman. They built two houses and have no debt and are magically in love. Of course he used to tend to be just slightly delusional, and the last I heard he abandoned his wife with four kids and ran off to Hawaii, but whatever. He’s magically in love right now, and right now is where we are. I still have a picture taped to the ceiling in my van that he took of me and my sister when we were little. We talk about van living and bus living, and his daughter tells me how her mom grew up in a school bus that the police made them paint blue.
“Do you talk to your dad?” he asks.
“No,” I say, “not in years.”
“He’s a good guy, you know. A good guy,” he tells me.
“He’s a child molester.”
He looks down. “Well, I haven’t experienced that.”
“Well I have.” I don’t look down.
“I’m sorry,” he says.
“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention me to him.”
“Of course,” he says. “I mean, I’m still friends with him, but I’ll honor that. Between you and me.”
“Thanks,” I say.
Then he tells me that I’m probably some kind of healer, and I should always listen to myself and believe in myself, and that’s what he was doing all those years ago when I knew him. It’s hard, you know, but you can heal yourself.
Yeah, I tell him, I know.
He says his wife had a good childhood, whatever that is, and it’s crazy but it actually makes a difference.
Yeah. I know.
* * * * * * * * * *
I’m in town. It was two big adventures getting here, and I’ll write about that tomorrow. I’m here because I tried doing phone sex out in the woods for a day, and made exactly zero dollars. Actually, like negative eight dollars after paying for advertising. Yesterday all Alaskans got three thousand something dollars, and in a couple months the stripper money will be all dried up for the winter. So I’m here to make it while it’s here.
It’s so weird being in the van without all my stuff in it. All my stuff is out at the cabin, and I keep remembering things I forgot. Little things like my notebook with all my lists in it, and bigger things like Bro’s food. It’s kind of nice in the van with all the clutter gone, but kind of sad with no dulcimer to sit and play. My bed, which used to be such a cozy cacoon, is too small and cramped now.
To all you people who were so interested in Sarah Palin: wow, I had no idea you guys were going to get so excited about that post. My sister is very much more politically and legally enlightened than me (she even has a paralegal degree! I’m so proud of her!), and if you ask your questions in the comments here I will consult with her and make a more serious post.
To people who appreciate nekkid womens: while phone sex was a big flop, I did get accepted to a very cool site where I take pictures of myself and they put them up. I tried doing a sort of Alaskan themed thing with the woodstove and the river and chopping wood, but it didn’t turn out so great. What do you guys want to see? Give me your ideas for artful quirky HoboStripper pictures.