the mother has grey white hair. the daughter has brown red hair. the mother has a strong body in tight jeans as does the daughter. i saw them moving in to their new place on glisan earlier. the daughter is in her late twenties. the mother is in her late fifties. they are living at the same place. they look like they have some money. i think the mother would want me for herself and not for her daughter. the daughter has an image of a brooding man she wants to avoid.
an old musky woman talks to a younger woman, possibly her daughter.
he likes chaos, the overweight young woman said. he likes to keep it going. they love it when there is drama.
i hate that, the old woman said.
yeah that’s when he feels comfortable, the younger woman said. i have to be at my place at 12:30. john is getting his car.
then he will have power, the old woman said.
i wanted to drive when i was young, the young woman said. the kids nowadays don’t care as much. they take public transportation. he tries to intimidate the children with phones, he confiscates them. he’s a sick man. if he ever came unannounced to my house i wouldn’t open the door. i’ll never be alone with him.
a’s japanese student arrives on thursday. she will be busy all week and then she will have a week without her kids when they stay over with their father. the 17 year old japanese student, however, will be with her every week.
i look at p when he isn’t looking. he has no idea how others see him. he has a self image given to him by under paid and over worked social workers, counselors, mentors, and a history that looks like a mangled foot. he talks to a man with grey hair who wears a black cap and has been discharging his gun at night on oregon st. p has on an orange baseball cap with a beaver on it. p hunts. he has thick thumbs with small nails. he has a brace on his foot. he hurt it in a hunting accident. another hunter shot him in the foot. he mistook it for small game.
i didn’t want a to see i have two molars missing. i didn’t want her to see that i have eczema on my neck.
when a talked about her aunt staying with her i thought about my mother’s white gaunt face when she was dying in her hotel room and the tall black athlete in the lobby.
a’s parents are still married. i wasn’t able to remember if a likes her mother. a talks and looks away and then looks squarely at me, this way i can look at her nose and mouth. her mouth pulls down when she makes sense of something.
my supervisor thinks i linger. there is nothing i can do about it. there is no interest. at this point i only want to make sense of life and not hurt anyone. my only choice is not to believe what my supervisor says to me about my future if i don’t act. it’s not easy to deal with a man i don’t have faith in, but if i have another supervisor i will face the same dilemma.
i have a quiche, a lemonade and english breakfast tea. i eavesdrop.
the middle aged bald man plays a beat on his pants with his hands. he moves his left foot up and down. the large professional woman he is with talks about discounts.
i think they are way over staffed, the professional woman said. you can do what you do and do what you do. they have over done the organization. he talks in a low tone the words blend. it’s not easy to make them out. she talks in a higher pitch and is easier to understand. they sound like they are in their early fifties.