What is your favorite Spring beer?

Sunday, February 19, 2006

How Am I Different? Chapter 2

Chapter 2

What’s life without

an occasional surprise?

- - Counting Crows


Friday. Day three of being thirty. Didn’t feel any different. Wasn=t any different. Only in his mind. And that was only because Abe told himself it was supposed to be different because that=s how everyone felt. Bullocks. He skipped the library that morning because it would have only depressed him to think about not doing a productive thing all day the evening prior and went to the record shop. No emotional baggage there. Unless you counted the Wilco albums, a band his last girlfriend had listened to constantly (and truthfully, he had gotten to like as well) or Elliot Smith, from the girl before last, or Jeff Buckley, from the one years ago he truly felt >got away=. Anyways, it was better than reminding himself of his melancholy attitude toward his job.

Unlike the bookstore, Abe always bought something at the record store. For instance that day there was a new Belle and Sebastian album he picked up from the get-go before he even started flitting through racks of jewel cases. Elliot eventually got up from behind the counter to say hello. He owned the place and worked there every hour it was open with the help of two part-time record junkies. It was such a rip-off of a Nick Hornby novel Abe liked that it almost made him laugh; except this guy lived in the back room of the store. He didn’t make much money but did it because it was all he could do. It wasn=t that he lacked intelligence; it was more like the way triathletes or farmers wouldn’t consider doing anything else. Elliot sold records. That=s just what he did. And he knew his shit.


AHey. New Belle and Sebastian. Eh.@ He also gave his honest opinion. Just because a record was good didn=t mean he liked it. Maybe that was why he was broke. AHere. Try the Potatomen. Four dollar EP. Won=t break you. Kind of like Elvis Costello meets the Ramones. Good stuff.@ Abe took it because even if he didn=t like the stuff it would at least interest him.

AHow=s things, Elliot?@ He shrugged.

ABuying more than I=m selling. Never sell a damn copy of your book.@

AThat=s because this is a record store. And those are part of the complimentary copies I get so they don=t cost you a thing. Unless you want the space for more Black Flag patches.@

ADamn. You=ve got a tick in your ass, don=t you?@

AAhh,@ Abe shrugged, AI turned thirty a couple of days ago.@

AHaven=t you got better things to be depressed about than that?@

AThanks, no. That=s the thing. I feel odder because I don=t feel this somber, life changing epiphany like everybody says they feel at this age. Am I missing something?@

AWell, take it from a thirty-two year old. It=s bullocks. Bills don=t stop coming. Parents don=t stop treating you like a charity case. Girls...Well...that doesn’t=t change, whatever your sex life happened to be. Anybody that worries about that shit is destined to die sad anyways.@ Elliot clapped Abe on the back. AHey. Happy birthday. There=s my present.@ He nodded to the two discs in Abe=s hand.

ANo, come on. I can=t take cd=s from you. That=s one less beer to end the day, you know?@

ARight. Remind me to never let you speak at my funeral.@ Elliot sighed and lifted himself by the elbows into a straighter stance behind the counter to ring up the sale. AHave it your way. You can buy the Belle and Sebastian because I=ll never sell those anyways. David=s pick.@ He raised his eyebrows to the ceiling. David was a rather eccentric piano player who lived on the second floor of the record shop and hung out with Elliot frequently. ABut keep the other. You=ll buy more by them, I think.@

AHey, have you got a sharpie?@ Abe suddenly asked, having had an idea.


AYeah, sure.@ Elliot found one and handed it over. Abe quickly grabbed the stack of books Elliot had displayed on the counter and autographed them.

AThere. That might help. Can=t hurt. Make a sign or something.@ Elliot grinned at the effort.

ARight. Well, have a good one today, hey? And if you feel like it, give a call. There=s always a group of us out and about.@ Abe told him he would and headed out.

His day had begun. He made his way to the bagel shop just down the street from the record store and grabbed a sandwich and a small cup of coffee to wake up with and kept walking. He would have kept going until he crossed the street to turn back the way he came but he ran into someone. Literally. His head was down, attached to the cup of coffee for a moment, and he felt foreign elbows and knees hit him in all the wrong places. The Styrofoam cup splattered at his feet worsening the situation. When he looked up a girl with short, full blonde hair and a frown met his gaze.

AJesus, I=m sorry. I wasn=t paying attention. Are you ok?@

AYeah...@ She shook her head slightly. AFine. Except now I=ve got coffee on my jeans, but...@

AI feel like an ass. I should have been paying...-A

@Ahh, never mind. It=s alright. It=ll wash out, I=m sure.@

AOkay, then. Sorry, again.@ Abe started to shuffle past but she stopped him.

AI=m sorry, now I=m being rude. It=s not every day I get accosted. What=s your name?@

Abe initially felt a stab of worry at the question but then noticed how pretty the girl was. It was not solely because of looks; as for that she didn’t=t seem like anything to jump off a bridge over but her smile in the face of such an embarrassing situation made it seem as though she may have had a beauty not everyone possessed.

AAbe.@ He assumed she just wanted a funny story to tell her girlfriends and needed a name to go along with the face.


AI=m Johanna.@ That should have been the end of the conversation but for some reason it wasn=t. Abe had always rather appreciated uncommon names; perhaps because of his literary background. Abe wasn=t all that flattering of a name but at least it was uncommon. It was the product of a mother who listened to too much Joni Mitchell if that made any sense. AHave I met you before?@ She continued.

AI don=t think so. But maybe it=s because you=ve seen my picture in a book.@ Then she looked utterly confused and now Abe would sound like a braggart if he said he was a writer. Never mind, it had already begun…

AI write. I have some books out. Maybe you saw my face on an advertisement or jacket cover.@ He made it sound as though he were embarrassed by it which was half-truth.

ANo, I can=t say that I have. What=s your last name?@

ACarrington.@

AWhat do you write?@ He suddenly realized they were walking together although she had changed directions and was now following his route home.

AFiction. Stories. Books about life.@ He had stolen that last one from a Rolling Stone Review but then, it was about his book so it really wasn=t stealing, was it?

AThat=s pretty vague.@

AOk.@ He would play...this was a new and different thing. ATake Elliot at the record store...@ They were passing the place then, AI might write a story based on him, with a love interest and some kind of life-changing event.@

ASo that=s all it takes, then? Pick a person and you have a book? Could you write one about me, then?@

AI suppose. It=s a bit harder than that, though. Writing, editing, all of it. There are fun bits, though.@ She nodded with pursed lips. Her jean jacket (a stylish, becoming one, unlike something you=d plaster with WhiteSnake patches and purposely scar with holes and frays) seemed too small and thin for the weather. It wasn=t snowing yet that November but close enough to it that Abe wore a parka.

ASo, give me the gist. What does the back cover say your book is about?@


AOk. The last one was about a guy who has close family ties and finally meets a nice girl. Except that his sixteen year old sister gets jealous of the new girl taking up all the guy=s time without any of them realizing what=s really going on with her. And then the ending, but I=d give it away if I told you that. Of course, you=ve never read it and I doubt you=d single it out in a bookstore, so maybe-A

@No!@ She cried. It was rather flattering to Abe. AI=ll read it. I mean, can I get it at the library?@ Then Abe saw an inroad. If anything Johanna seemed nice especially in light of how they had met.

AWell, yes, you can. But we=re right in front of my apartment now. If you want, I can get you a copy. Save you a trip. Come on up.@ Abe was glad he kept his rooms presentable; one of the necessities of the single life.

AUm, okay.@ She followed him.

Abe shucked his jacket and shoes before going to the bookshelf which was surprisingly small considering his occupation. He found the only (visible) copy of >Had it All Along= and handed it to Johanna with all the grace he could muster. She read the title and nodded.

AThanks.@ They looked at one another for a moment, his blue eyes meeting her grey, before she spoke. AI should get your number.@ She bit her bottom lip and continued though it sounded as if she were trying to start over. ATo return this, I mean.@

AKeep it. I=ve got a box of them in the closet.@ He never told anyone that! It seemed either pathetic or self-deifying to have something like that in your closet and he didn’t=t want to come off as either. However, he had unintentionally waved off a request for his number. Idiot.

AOh. Well, maybe you could just give it to me anyways? In case I really need to give it back to you?@ There was still an air of nervousness in her question but also a tinge of playfulness, perhaps because she had realized his blunder.

AOf course. Sure. Here.@ He took the book back and scribbled on the first page with a sharpie that was always lying on the desk next to the bookshelf.


AAutographed!@ She teased. ADoes this make it worth something?@

AYou never know.@ They looked at one another again not sure what to say.

AWell, I should probably go. You=re probably busy.@ Abe smiled and snorted.

ARight. I=ve got to check my messages and listen to these records of Elliott=s. Where will I find the time? Anyways. Enjoy.@ Johanna smiled and tucked the paperback in the pocket of her jacket before walking out the door.

Abe sat down at the desk and thought about Johanna. It wasn=t because he was particularly taken with her, it was simply what he did whenever he met new and interesting people. He liked to spin off lives for them based on the glimpses he had (which were sometimes nothing more than seeing someone interesting walking down the street). That way of plotting people usually had disappointing consequences if he actually formed a relationship with the person in question because Abe tended towards the romantic and the lives most people led hardly measured up to what could be imagined. Ahh, well. He got some good characters out of it and that was, after all, what fed him. He sighed and popped in The Potatomen.

Johanna called three days later. It was the middle of the evening and heavy into writing time. Abe had to completely shatter his trance to answer the phone and as it was he didn’t=t recognize the voice until she told him her name.

AOh, right. Johanna. How are you?@

AGood, thanks. Did I catch you at a bad time?@ Her tone told him that she thought she had.

ANo, no. I=m just... I write at night. Only time I can really, so I kind of get in a fever. Nothing to worry about.@ Had he really just said >nothing to worry about=? He needed to stop reading so many books set in England.


ASorry. I read your book. It=s good, I thought you should know.@ She paused briefly. ABut I suppose the reviews on the back could tell you that.@

AThanks. It=s nothing that will change the world but I thought it would be a pleasant way to kill an afternoon.@

ASure. You don=t go into descriptions a lot. I liked that. It was...Spartan. Things happened. Fast.@

AAhh, the attention span of my target audience. I=m the same way, so that=s how I write. No need to describe every room in the house, is there?@

ANo,@ she snickered. AThanks for giving it to me and all. I=ve never met an author in quite that way. Although, I have to say you still play second fiddle to the time Shel Silverstien signed my copy of >Where the Sidewalk Ends= when I was ten.@

APlaying second fiddle to that man is a compliment I wish my critics afforded me. Thank you.@

AYou=re welcome. Do you have others?@

AUm, yes. Two others. I=m working on the fourth right now. They=re both along the same vein. I don=t have many copies of those, though. I have a surplus of the one you=ve got because it was the latest I wrote. I=ve given most of the others away. You could certainly borrow mine, though.@

AI=d like that.@

Abe thought to himself for a moment before answering. AI don=t know the first thing about you,@ he stated, AHere I=ve bared my soul for you in books and I don=t even know what you do.@

AI=m an English teacher.@

ABloody hell.@

AWhat=s that supposed to mean?@ She asked with a hint of indignation in her voice.

AWhat the hell are you doing reading me? You=re seriously an English teacher?@

ARoosevelt High school. The Eagles.@ Abe wasn=t familiar with the high schools in the area, but he played along.


AI=m sorry. I thought maybe you were a waitress or a student or something.@ He had forgotten that he was getting older and no doubt the women he was meeting were too. He turned down Talking Heads so he could concentrate on not insulting Johanna any further.

AThanks.@ He could almost see her grimace.

ASorry. I just... I never meant to appeal to people with any kind of a background. You=re not likely to see George Eliot and Abe Carrington side by side on any bookshelf.@

ARelax. Everybody needs a mental recess now and again.@

AWell, I=m glad you liked it. I hate to say it, but the other two are about the same.@

AI=m looking forward to them. Listen.@ There was a hint of apprehension in her voice. AI kind of called because it=s Friday, and I was wondering if you wanted to go out.@

AIt=s Friday? Oh, right, because you have to teach all week. I=m sorry. My schedule...Never mind. I=d love to.@ He rolled his eyes and smiled at the reaction his publishers would have if they knew how little he had been doing in the last week.

AShould I just pick you up since I know where you are?@ Abe told her that sounded fine. They hung up and he thought he could get another page or two in but realized he was wearing a Pink Floyd t-shirt and pajama bottoms. By the time Johanna knocked he had barely jumped into something socially acceptable.

When he opened the door he remembered how easy it was to be a girl sometimes. Anything women wore excepting sweats could pass in most situations because they had two genders= clothing to pick from. Jeans or a skirt? Blouse or polo? It wouldn’t=t matter. He let it go, though, because he had it on good authority that women had a few other things going on that were not so pleasant.

AHi.@

AHi. Come in.@ Johanna was wearing very comfortable looking camel colored suede pants and a powder blue silk blouse.

ADid you have anything particular in mind?@ Abe asked. He was in Dockers and a green collared shirt that for him translated to >ready for anything=.


AThere=s a woman that sings in a lounge downtown who sounds kind of like Joan Osborne. I was thinking of going to see her tonight, if that=s your sort of thing.@

AThat sounds good. To tell you the truth I hardly ever go out at night.@

AOk then. We may as well just take my car. It=s warm.@ Abe agreed and followed her down the stairs and into the cold night air.

On the way to the club they chatted idly about nothing of importance: What is was like being around teenagers all day, Abe=s complete lack of structure as far as anyone outside looking in could see, and their last dates.

AThis guy...He was a lawyer... My friend=s cousin or in-law or something, anyways, he was the most hyper adult I=d ever seen. Might have been coked up for all I know. Fancy car, fancy clothes. Definitely just wanted to get laid. If I didn’t=t like lobster so much I=d have left before dinner came out.@

AHe bought lobster and you didn=t sleep with him? I can=t believe that. I=m sunk.@

APlease,@ she smiled, AThis guy had issues. He never called, though, so at least there=s that.@

AMine was a critic for a music column in one of the papers. I thought she would be neat, cultured, you know. A writer of sorts so there would be something to at least build a conversation or two on, but no. She had blue and pink highlights in hair a little darker than yours. Rings on every finger. A nose stud. Nice girl, really, but all she wanted to talk about was music. Not even about herself or what her favorite color was or any of that. Just how much Steve Malkimus was influenced by Lou Reed or the sad state of pop-punk. I went out with her twice to make sure, but...@

APurple.@

AWhat?@


AThat=s my favorite color. Purple. Just in case you wanted to know.@ She looked over at him keeping both hands on the wheel at a perfect ten and two position (who drives like that?) and smiled sweetly.

AOh. Right. Mine=s, um...@ She turned again and he stuttered. AMine=s burnt umber.@

AWhat?@

AIt=s in a sixty-four count box of Crayolas. It=s the color of reddish clay. Or the cliffs in Arizona. Like a red-brown combination. It=s very relaxing.@

AYeah?@ Johanna was looking Abe’s way again and gracing him with a wide open smile showing all her teeth. There was a mixture of amusement, respect, and wary disbelief in her eyes.

AHow do you do that?@

AWhat?@

AGet me to say things like that. I sound like an imbecile. They=ve got classes for it with your degree, right? How to manipulate people to get them to say things they may not normally say?@

AThat=s a bit harsh, don=t you think?@ Abe sighed.

AYou=re right. I=m sorry.@ He had almost let out the rest of the breath it had taken to utter the sentence when he caught her. AThere it was! You just did it again and I apologized! How do you do that?@

AI=m really a witch.@ Johanna had said it so convincingly that Abe almost believed her. Before he could think of a rebuttal they were in front of the club. AShall we?@

AWe=ll continue this,@ he said, trying to sound sly. Except he was a writer, not an actor.

The bar was typical, filled with cigarette smoke, college kids and townies. Abe thought he might have been there before but it could have been any number of other establishments just like it. The bored looking fellow sitting on a stool just inside the door waved them through after taking a cover from Abe. (Why didn’t=t they bother to i.d. him anymore? He hadn=t been i.d.=ed in ages.)

There were no open tables on the floor so they sat at the crowded bar and ordered a gin and tonic for Abe and a rum and Coke for Johanna.

ASo I could be a substitute teacher?@


AYeah, sixty credits in anything and a clean background check sets it up. There=s not even a drug test.@

AOh, you figure I must be a pothead writer, hey?@ He tried to sound indignant but Johanna was too intelligent for his bullshit.

ANo, I wanted to prove the point of laxness. But now that you=re all defensive about it...@

AI could never do it. All the little girls would get crushes on me and probably need years of therapy...and the English classes? Forget it. They=d fire me.@

AWhy?@

“Because I=d let them read real books. Fun books. >On The Road=, Charles Bukowski, Frank Herbert, Chuck Palahniuk.@

AYou would let them read >Diaries of a Dirty Old Man=?@

AWell, maybe I would break them into Bukowski. They’ll read it in college anyways. That’s when it was required for me. But do you see what I=m saying? I=m too... If I had a nickel for ever time I couldn’t=t think of a word I want... I like things that hit people. Uplifting, depressing, hilarious, manic, whatever. And whenever people are taken outside of their comfort levels, they get defensive.@

ASo you would purposely piss people off just to see it?@ She was swirling the remains of her drink and if Abe would have been paying attention he would have seen that he was starting to lose her.

AThat=s not what I mean at all. I would be just as likely to want someone to read me, in all my sugar coated pleasantry, because of that very fact, as I would want them to read Kerouac. Sorry if I came off as insensitive. It would just depend on my mood. I just don=t have... the sense?... experience? Of dealing with your age of kids to know what to censure. I don=t know their psychology. I wouldn’t want to censure anything, because it’s all out there on the shelves. But I sure as hell wouldn’t=t want them wasting their time with >A Separate Peace=.@ Johanna started giggling. AWhat?@

AThat=s what we=re reading right now in tenth grade English.@

ASee,@ Abe shrugged with his hands, AThis is what I=m saying.@ She couldn’t=t stop. Her hand gripped his shoulder and she buried her face in the crook of her elbow until the laughter subsided.


AYou shouldn’t be so hard on yourself. I don=t think your book was sugar coated. It was nice.@

AThanks. She=s good, you were right.@ The singer was a brunette with short feathered hair pouring her heart out about life at the front of the room on a makeshift stage that was merely a spot where the owners had moved just enough tables to leave room for amps and a microphone. Johanna nodded and they listened to the music in silence for a moment.

AWell. One more?@ She waved her glass towards the bar.

AWhy not?@ They ordered another round and launched into conversation again.

AYou should come to my classes. Be a guest speaker. A real-world writer. The kids would be thrilled. Well, at least as thrilled as high school kids can get.@

AI=m not sure you want your students striving to be me, but sure. Why not?@

AThat would be fun.@ Johanna rested her cheek on her knuckles and stared at Abe. ACan I tell you something else?@ His stomach knotted but he nodded. AI=d like to see you again.@

AWe=re not even done with this date.@ She narrowed her eyes slightly and smirked, reminding him that she couldn’t=t be played that easily. AKidding. I would like that, too.@

ACan I read another one of your books?@

Abe nodded. AYou can read both of them if you would like. I think I could live without my copies for a bit.@

AGood.@ They finished their drinks and waited for a set break from the singer who had been providing wonderful background music for more than an hour. AIt=s too smoky in here for me to stand it much longer,@ Johanna proclaimed in the silence. So they left.

AIf I follow you up to your place, you=re not automatically going to think that I=m going to sleep with you, are you?@


AI=ve had too much fun with you so far to act like an asshole now.@ At nineteen he would have thought differently but as he had grown older Abe realized how trivial sex could be in the grand scheme of things. Besides, it was always more gratifying to draw things out.

AGood. Because I only want you for your books.@ She giggled quickly and shut off her car. The ride home had seemed much shorter than the trip to the club but it most certainly hadn=t warmed up any, they realized, and hurried into the building.

ASo are you supposed to be writing right now?@ She asked, slipping off her jacket. A good sign.

ASupposed to be. I like to keep my publishers guessing, though.@

AWell, I don=t want to keep you from your work.@

AThere=s always tomorrow night. I don=t think I would get anything accomplished if you left now anyways. And it=s only eleven o=clock. I usually watch Saturday Night Live if, you=d like to stay.@

AI haven=t seen that show since I was in college.@

AIt=s not as good as it was then but Will Ferrell makes it worth watching. Do you want a beer? Or there=s pop, I think. Maybe some really old juice. No guarantees on the juice, though.@

ABeer=s fine.@ Johanna stood in front of his bookshelf and browsed while Abe disappeared into the kitchen. When he came back she was still standing in the same place. She had found the first book he=d published and was reading the jacket thoughtfully.

AHere, drink half of this as fast as you can and it=ll sound a lot better,@ he smiled, handing her a bottle of Labatt=s.

AThanks. This sounds pretty good.@

AIt=s ok. It was my first, so I always see where I could have done better with it in hindsight. That was published three months after I got my master=s. If that wouldn’t=t have happened I would be teaching writing classes at a community college today.@ She glanced at his diplomas hung decoratively on the wall either side of the shelves. He didn=t know why he had framed them, it just always seemed to him that it was what people did when they got a graduate degree. And it filled up the white space beautifully.

AThat wouldn’t be too bad.@


AYeah, I=ve thought about picking up a class or two for some extra cash, but to tell you the truth I don=t need it and it would just be a hassle, really. It=s nice as an option, though. Can=t straddle the fence forever.@

AI don=t mean to pry, but how much does a book make for you?@

AWell, it depends on how it sells, really. It=s about the same thing as a record deal except there=s no long term contract unless you=re really famous. Since I don=t have a contract I sell the rights to the publisher for about fifteen to twenty thousand and get royalties from the sales besides. Maybe thirty to fifty cents a paperback. It takes about a year to write one, all said and told, so maybe forty to fifty thousand a book, initially, with libraries and what have you buying copies. I still get checks for fifty or a hundred every month from this one and it=s been out for four years. I=m not driving a Lexus but it=s enough that I don=t have to do anything else. Leaves me more time for dumping scalding beverages on women I want to meet.@ Johanna chuckled.

ASo why would you even want a contract if you can peddle to whoever and they still pay for the story?@

AWell, for one thing they=ll pay you to write, say, three books in a contract. But they=ll give you the money up front and it=s usually better than a straight buy-out because they want to get you in their corner instead of in another publisher=s harem. So you get maybe a hundred thousand for three books versus forty five to sixty. It lets you breathe a little easier. You also get higher royalties. And little contracts lead to big ones, and more advertisement, and peddling for screenplays and the like. But the whole thing also comes with more rigid time frames and duties like publicity tours and meetings and people trying to control your person rather than just your writing.@

AThat=s why you haven=t contracted?@


ANo, they just haven=t offered. If I could make twice as much money for doing about the same amount of work I do now I would be on it in a heartbeat. It might happen if I write something that accidentally makes the New York Times Bestseller List but right now I have a friendly relationship with the people at Bantam and they buy my books without much hassle at all.@

AThat sounds so interesting. Different, at least. So, you can wake up at noon, walk around town all day, and sit down and write a few chapters at night, and you=re good to go?@

AThat=s exactly what I was doing when I met you. Sometimes, though, I think some structure would be nice. Something to get up for. Keep me regular. That=s usually when I start thinking about grabbing up a class at a college.@

AI don=t know, it sounds nice to me.@

AWell, It=s the same as a trip to Hawaii. It seems so fabulous, but if you lived there, it would just be another day on a little island in the middle of the ocean. Those people probably dream of vacationing in Chicago or New York.@ That was a view Abe had thoroughly polished from walking many people through the scenario of his life.

AI suppose you=re right.@

AI=m sure you could write something that would sell. You could do it as a hobby. Have a little nest egg or something. For goodness’ sake, you could edit my drafts with a degree in English.@

AI guess. I don=t know if I would have the patience, though. For an entire novel, I mean.@

AI know what you mean. I do have to look at it as a job sometimes.@ Abe paused and examined his beer awkwardly. AHey, it=s about that time. Shall we?@ They moved to the couch and Abe turned on the television. They sat next to one another, three inches from being shoulder to shoulder.

Abe realized he wasn=t paying very close attention to the show and saw Johanna wasn=t either. Who watched T.V. on a first date anyways?

AI=m sorry. This was probably a stupid idea. I just wanted an excuse for you to stick around.@


She gave him a look of understanding. AI kind of thought so.@ Abe turned the television off and turned the stereo on. Belle and Sebastian started playing but he didn’t=t feel like falling asleep so he skipped to the next disc. It was an old Del Amitri album. He let it play.

ASo, what should we do now?@

AI don=t know,@ She laughed. AMaybe we should have stayed out a little longer.@

>I=m sure we could find something to talk about. I=ll start. Do you have any pets?@

She laughed again. AA goldfish. Named Goldie. Isn=t that clever?@

ATerribly. I don=t have any pets. I have a few plants, though. Ok, what=s you favorite band?@

AMmhh. Bob Dylan. My parents listened to him constantly and I used to hate him as a kid. Guess what song I=m named after?@ She rolled her eyes. ABut now I can=t get enough. I guess it=s just one of those learned things.@

AThat=s a very respectable favorite. I like Dylan. Blood on the Tracks is probably my favorite.@

AI like >Free Wheeling= best. Ok. My turn. What=s your favorite book?@

AWow, you don=t like to warm up or anything, hey?@ Johanna shook her head. AWell, in high school it was >Atlas Shrugged=. I thought I was an intellectual with that one. In college it was >On the Road=, and that=s still definitely a top pick. Right now, though, I=d have to say,@ He paused for a long time before answering, “Another Roadside Attraction”, by Tom Robbins. His first book. I’ll probably think of something better as soon as you go, but…Your turn.”

AAnything by Vonnegut.@

AAhh, I forgot about Vonnegut. He=s interesting. My turn. Favorite movie. Drama and Comedy.@


AOh. Okay, >Magnolia=. And...you=re going to think this is stupid, but my favorite comedy is >The Three Amigos= with Chevy Chase, Martin Short, and Steve Martin. I have never laughed harder in my life than when the Mexican bandito opens the present from his posse and says >Eet=s a Swaeter!= Seriously the most hilarious thing ever.@ From Abe=s look Johanna could tell he had no idea what she was talking about. >Sorry,@ she said with a blush, A You=ll have to see it, I guess. Never mind. You go.

A >The Big Lebowski= and >Gangs of New York=.@

AI=ve never heard of that. The first one I mean. The second is good.@

AIt=s John Goodman, Steve Buschemi, Jeff Bridges, Julianne Moore, a bunch of others. We=ll have to watch our movies some night.@

AThat sounds good.@ She stretched and sighed. AI should go, though. It=s been fun. We=ll have to do it again.@

AThat=d be good.@ Abe got up when Johanna did and walked her to the door.

AI never gave you my number,@ she realized once she opened the door. Abe shot back to his desk and grabbed the sharpie and a legal pad. She took them and made her mark. AThere you go. Call me when you get a free moment.@ She chuckled and kissed his cheek before turning down the hall.

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