St. Paul Part 7

He exited from East 94 onto Snelling and turned north. He grumbled in front of his house over Adam's car taking up his usual space and considered rear ending the bumper of Adam's car.

He parked, and not wanting to face them, not wanting to deal with it, he began walking towards the Fair Ground. His shadow from the street light walked in front of him, mimicking his stumbling steps. He cursed it but continued to follow.

Walking South on Snelling he stopped at the top of the bridge. The space separating Como from the Midway; the space that would now divide the Twin Cities. He looked to his right, towards shiny Minneapolis with its colorful skyscrapers casting illumination and flirtation to the sky, and he knew he hated it. He picked up a stone and threw it at the bright lights, watching it sail out into the night and land on the dying part of St. Paul. Exhausted by the effort he slouched down into the curb. He felt the cigarettes in his pocket and pulled one out.

And suddenly a voice came crystal clear from the back of his memory. A voice from neither a long time ago nor yesterday. A time ago.

"You still there?"

"Yeah."

"What are you doing?"

"Same thing since you left two hours ago."

"What are you watching?"

"This weird thing with a bearded lady."

"Me too! You think it's real?"

"It has to be, you saw the way they were yanking on it."

"I still don't get it."

"What's not to get? The hormones could effect even the farthest Y chromosome, I suppose. Besides, you've seen those girls with the light blond hair, imagine if they were a little Mediterranean? Obviously, they'd have to shave to hide it."

"How can she stand to have them pull on it like that?"

"Okay, now I don't think it's real. See the way that it's kind of breaking to the right. No human beard could--Oh, hey Adam. How you doing?"

"Is that Adam? Tell him hi for me."

"Courtney says--oops, he's already gone upstairs. I think he's pissed and wants to use the phone. Either that or else he smells the cigarettes on me."

"You need to hang up?"

"No."

There would be a pause.

"I guess I should go, anyway."

"Yeah, me too."

"Jimmy?"

"Yeah?"

"Wanna come over and have one more cigarette?"

"Absolutely."

The memory, the voices stopped. He crushed out the cigarette and sat up on the curb, looking out across the bridge, looking east. And as he sat there the sun sparked its first light on the horizon, and he watched it rise over St. Paul.