The Hipster Brigade
Friday, October 31, 2003
 
She Can Read Your Aura, Too

I called her from the payphone outside of Haley’s BBQ Pit. I was about half way there, and I still hadn’t told her I had left the house. That somewhere out there a cat was waiting for me. That I had been wishing for the last five years to be in California.

Fingers shaking, I dialed the phone. It’s always strange when you have trouble remembering your own phone number, but I never had to call home, since I was always there. The answering machine picked up.

“Hi, Mom. It’s Anna. I’m in California searching for the cat. Did you get my note on the fridge?” I hung up because there was nothing left to say.


It’s 9pm Friday night by the time I finally got there and pulled into Danielle’s driveway. She’s the one that told me about the cat. That I just had to see it. I had never met her, but there’s no reason to be scared of first times. I’ve been writing letters to her since I was nine years old. Some elementary school pen pal system, and she ended up being more of a friend than my friends there in Texas.

The street was quiet except for the low thud of music coming from her house. Both sides of the street were lined with cars. Funny, how her driveway was open just for me. When I knocked on the door she opened and yells in my face, just how I was expecting. I had grown used to her wild rants and the fast life she was leading her in Los Angeles.

“Anna! Anna! Here have these,” she said, pushing a bag of blue pills into my hand. “Trust me.” She winked and then told me to mingle. Instead, I took a handful of the pills with water from the bathroom sink, and find the first empty bed.


It’s just how I thought it would be. Harry stood on the corner and the cat was dressed in a doll’s polka dot dress sitting on an upturned milk crate. He’s spoon feeding her Frisky’s from a plastic spork. The sign on the crate read: “Welcome to Harry’s Fabulous Psychic Cat. She Sees the Future for $10.” Danielle nudged me closer and points to the rope where it’s tied to the crate.

“We have to save it.” She looked at me, eyes big and bloodshot from last night’s party. “You have to save it.”

This was my second wish. I was in California and I was saving the psychic cat. It happened so fast that I don’t remember it happening at all. Danielle punched Harry in the ear, not hard enough to knock him out, but hard enough to where he stumbles back and I picked up the cat and run to the car. Now, that I had the cat there’s nothing else I could think of that could make this any better. I stared at Danielle.

“What next? We’ve got the cat.” I looked at her while holding the cat tightly in my arms. She’s purring and this seems to be just how I would have pictured it in my dreams.

“I don’t know. Ask the cat. She’s the psychic.” She laughed, but her laugh is loud and for a few minutes I can’t hear the music on the radio.

I figured I had nothing to lose. I looked right into the cat’s green eyes and asked the question. “What next?” She stopped purring and her eyes glazed over like she’s thinking really hard. I got scared that maybe I did something wrong, but just then she meowed. It sounded like something. A name, maybe.
“Welch?” I asked. Pyschic cat purred loudly. “So, Danielle. We are supposed to find Welch. Whatever that is.” Danielle laughed again and I couldn’t help but laugh, too.


That night we dressed in glitter, stilettos, low slung jeans and tight shirts. Psychic cat purred as she watched us. We were ready to be seen. Danielle liked making a scene wherever she went, and everyone knew her, so they played along. This Welch was still on the back of my mind. Maybe it was just a hairball in the back of her throat. This was nothing. I wished I could find it.


There was no place where we were turned down. She got behind any door or beyond the silk red ropes like they merely pieces of cotton candy floss. We bar hopped the whole night, getting rides with strangers and with acquaintances. The boys were too intimidated to say no or to make a first move. We weren’t there for them, and they knew it. Danielle would line boys up at the bar and they would buy her drinks, no questions asked. I sat next to her and would write poetry on cocktail napkins, keeping one eye open for Welch. I’m sure it would come to me, pointed out to me with a flow of bright light.

“Over there, Anna. Over there. He’s your type,” Danielle pointed to a boy with blonde hair standing by the wall. There were several boys surrounding him, and I figured he would not be interested in me. “Just go say hello. Just go.” She pushed me off the stool and I could feel her eyes burning holes in my back.

He looked bored and the guy next to him was asking him question after question. He rolled his eyes, hands in his pockets. He looked how I felt – misplaced. He caught me staring at him, quickly turning his head and staring back at the floor again. Another man approached him with a cup of beer, which he took, without a smile or thank you.

“What no manners?” I asked, approaching him.

“Not for him, the asshole. I just let them buy me drinks. I don’t even know why I’m here.” He took another sip from his beer.

“Then come with us if you want, we’re leaving soon.” I couldn’t believe the words coming out of my mouth.

I could see that he was interested as he seemed to really look at me then. “Okay,” he said, following me back to Danielle.

“So, people call me Welch,” he said to us in the booth at Denny’s. I was sobering Danielle up with any amount of food I could get past her lips. She was sucking down coffee like it was her blood.

“The psychic cat, man. The psychic cat was right.” Danielle shouted, waving her arms around. “We have found Welch.”

I elbowed Danielle and smiled back at him. “We rescued the psychic cat. He told me to find you.”

He just nodded. “I know.”

  |


<< Home
Laying the foundation for grown-up fairy tales since November 2001.

My Photo
Name:
Location: Boston, Massachusetts, United States

Nerd. Collector. Haiku Writer. Knee sock wearer. Umbrella holder. Polaroid taker. Photobooth sitter. Casual gamer.

LINKS
Fiction, Photography & Poetry / David Frost prints / Green Tea / MAF / N&N? / 1FaceLife / Justin Why / Rainy Days / Angels in Alcatraz

SUPPORT DIY
My My / Persephassa / Freckle Wonder / My Paper Crane

ARCHIVES
November 2001 / December 2001 / January 2002 / February 2002 / March 2002 / April 2002 / May 2002 / June 2002 / July 2002 / October 2002 / November 2002 / December 2002 / January 2003 / February 2003 / March 2003 / April 2003 / May 2003 / June 2003 / July 2003 / August 2003 / September 2003 / October 2003 / November 2003 / December 2003 / January 2004 / February 2004 / March 2004 / April 2004 / May 2004 / June 2004 / July 2004 / August 2004 / September 2004 / October 2004 / November 2004 / December 2004 / January 2005 / March 2005 /


Powered by Blogger Weblog Commenting and Trackback by HaloScan.com

Site Meter





< ? bostonites # >