It was four am and almost everyone had gone home. I was sitting at the bar with another girl and our lone customer, sipping my fake seabreeze and considering leaving. I don’t like to leave until it’s all over, until every possibility of another customer walking in with a big wad of cash has been exhausted. But the bartender was starting her closing routine and I was wondering if we’d gotten to that point.
Then there was a clambering at the door. It opened, and four very intoxicated young men spilled in. They didn’t look promising, but I pounced anyways. They introduced themselves sloppily and said they came from Oklahoma to play baseball. I’m sure I’m ignorant of these things, but really, who comes to Alaska to play baseball?
The one whose arm I was seductively stroking had an ORU hat on. ORU. Oklahoma Respiratory University? Oklahomans R Us? So I asked.
He graduated from Oral Roberts University and it’s the best school in the world.
I’m so beyond ever being shocked, but that woke me up.
“Wow, so did you go there for the academics or was it the religion that drew you in?” I asked.
“I love Jeesush, he changed my life and ORU ish the besht shing that ever happened to me.”
“So, um, honey, you do realize you’re in a den of sin, right?”
He looked cutely confused, staring at me, but it was really hard to say what he was thinking. I wasn’t having a good feeling about this, but I decided to press on.
“I bet you’d really love a lapdance right now, wouldn’t you?”
“Ish it free?” he sneered. Aha, I could see his religious training already.
“No, but if you’d pay I’d be truly honored to dance for a graduate of ORU,” I told him.
He leaned over and made a grab for my ass. I was faster, but I let him do it anyways, just for the sinfulness of it all.
“Hey!” I grabbed his arm and twisted, just a little, “is that how they teach you to treat whores at ORU?”
His confused look started to clear. “Fuck,” he muttered, then louder, “FUCK! I gotta get outta here.” He fell against me slightly as he stumbled towards the door, his friends following like a line of drunken baby ducks.
I stared after them, confused. The world contains so many realities, it can make your head spin.
The bartender slid the bolt across the door behind them and yelled, “last call!”
It was over.
I drove to this parking lot I sleep in sometimes, and walked down into the little patch of birch forest. The bluebells and lupine burst into bloom while I was gone, and the roses are budding. I sit cross-legged in front of a birch and kiss it. My lipgloss leaves a shiny pink print, and I wipe it off with a plantain leaf. The dirt under me is dry, soft, and rich with compost and bugs. I kiss the dirt. I pull my shirt up and rub dirt into my stomach. These are my rituals.
I lay down in the dirt, bluebells hovering over my face. The sun still hasn’t been down in days. I put my tongue out and find the slightest hint of moisture on the flowers.
I love this place.
I just wanted to tell you how lovely the end of this last posting was…. I could almost see you leaving that bit of lip gloss as if it were a scene out of an indy film. Thanks for sharing.
Not an indy film, life…REAL life! Kissing trees and playing in the dirt is what we’re born to do!
huraah!
That scene in the club was humorous too! Thanks for sharing!
Huge birch bark and dirt hug!