By Rinalda,
I crossed the street and stood by Express House debating a matter. There was a certain place I wanted to visit, but each time I decided on such, the rain came down heavily. So I stood there smiling and eventually said aloud, to myself, that I will go another day. The rain began to ease. Yes. I guess I have quite an imagination.
As I waited it out a Bobo came and stood under my umbrella. I thought he was just passing by, but no, he stood there mumbling that he will shelter for an hour or two. My eyes widened. Then he indicated to someone over the road to come and join him. I looked to see who he was calling and saw no one.
I gathered that whoever he was talking to was not visible to me. He continued standing under my umbrella pulling at his beard. He then whispered that when I bring up the bag of weed I should hail him up and let him know what time it is. My eyes went wider. He then ducked out from under the umbrella and went to shelter in a doorway. My eyes followed him.
This was very interesting. I eventually got back to minding my own business when he returned. This time he stood at the back of me and whispered that I’m the one he is talking to. I turned my head and held his stare for a moment, then decided to ignore him. He came to the front, still under the umbrella, and remarked that he liked my hair. All this time I had not moved an inch.
I looked at how he ducked in and out without touch me or the umbrella. I decided that it was time to get out of Port of Spain, but I did not want to walk off first. In less than a minute, he ducked out again. I got a taxi and came home.
Yesterday I went to visit another mover and shaker... Sunset massage overlooking the gulf. Once I was out of the elevator I started pushing brochures under doors, then turned the corner to continue and there he was standing. Thought I would have had to knock on his door, but he thought otherwise.
We greeted and he escorted me around to see the three bedrooms so that I could make my pick. I told him the living room floor would be best. He got a sheet and spread it on the mat and settled down. We talked; his first massage plus conversation. When I mentioned that it was too dark to see the clock across the room, he said I didn’t strike him as being concerned with time, so just massage and he will pay. Fine.
He had a torn ligament (or more) in the rotator cuff on the right side about two years ago which has caused the right bicep to be reduced over time. It used to be larger than the left. The muscle seemed to have shifted medially. He felt it should have been healed by now, but it is still painful, especially when he lifts weights or swing his golf club. I explained that ligaments are not muscles, so overnight recovery is asking too much.
When he was comfortable enough he told me that he had just passed his medical exam, which is required because he flies something, and wanted to celebrate with some weed. He asked if I knew where he could get some good weed. I spent the next few seconds laughing. I told him, no.
Fine. Actually I have a few golf-playing clients like him who always have weed on display like it’s their furniture who often smoked before the massage. I thought to connect him with one, but then, ethics… I’m still doing massages for them because I ignore them. If I’m suddenly seeing, and in this case, referring persons, everything would change.
When the massage was over we sat in the kitchen talking some more and I had cranberry juice since beer was not an option for me. He gave me the latest novel he was reading by Robert Ludlum and I was ready to leave. He was not ready to let me go so he decided to drop me home. We ended up going through St. James instead of up Wrightson Road
because we were talking too much and he missed the turn-off.
When we eventually got onto the highway, we were going at top speed with no seatbelts. He said it should not be an imposition and I was glad about that. I did not know that he thought San Juan was somewhere near Piarco until I noticed, at the speed we were going we were going to go pass the Barataria roundabout if I did not alert him. I told him he needed to get into the left lane.
It had to be done quickly, which meant swerving in front of a Police car at short notice. He did it anyhow and asked if I could imagine what would happen if they pull us over. No. I did not want to. Besides, why would they? We were in one of those recent model silver-gray Kia SUV with spanking new number plate. The Police know better.
The weed conversation resurfaced. I decided that this was a test of some sort. I told him we will look for a dark street and drive up and ask. He was excited. He said he liked this side of me. Uh-huh. And he did drive up a street, and I saw some young men liming, and I told him to pull over. He said he wanted $600 worth of weed. I only had $100 on me apart from a few dollars change because he had paid in US currency. He said he could go to an ATM.
I said let’s try this first and if it works he could then go to the ATM. Fine. I wind down the window to talk to the young man. After saying: Good night, I could not articulate what it was that I wanted. The guy stood there smiling at me, and my client leaned over to explain. We both ended up saying the same thing together. The guy said the person who sells is not there and he could not help. I told him thanks and we drove up the street, turned, and came back down. All the young men were standing on one side now.
My client suggested that we stop and ask when we can expect the seller. Fine. He stopped, and before I could ask, the very young man held out his hand with a sample. My client took it and smelled it and said he did not like the quality. That was accepted and we drove off. I reached over and touched him. Your hand is wet! Yes it was. I was sweating profusely. The whole exercise was killing me and he was cracking up with laughter.
He took me home and wanted to know why my door was open. I told him my son was there. So we sat outside and had a conversation about his son who is 29 years old and behaves older than him. Good for his son, he must have gotten that from his mother’s side because his Dad is very spontaneous. Speaking of spontaneous, he wanted to kiss me before I disembarked. I told him I only do hugs. He did not want that.
Then he said, you’re like four different persons. I liked you back there with the guys, but I’m glad I met my mind first. He read the blog and thought that I was a mystic and wanted to be in my ‘aura.’ So he called me and I sounded like a mature woman and he felt comfortable with me. But when I showed up on his lobby I was totally different to what he imagined and he wanted to kiss me. I asked if he was satisfied with his massage.
Yes. You have smart hands, you know, like a smart phone. I like your feet, there’re probably smart too. I bet you have smart lips. I bet everything in between your hands and feet are smart. Where do these people come out from? He leaned over. I told him he could kiss my cheek. No. Lips. I asked if he knew that kissing on the lips facilitates the transference spirit via the breath. No one talks to me like this. I love it!
Give me some spirit. He is incorrigible. I then told him I think I want to write about our encounter so it would not be wise for me to become embroiled. Embroiled? Wooooo! I want to be embroiled with you.
I’m stepping out of the vehicle now, Sir. No, wait, did I mention that I won’t mind seeing you without your clothes? No, I guess you were just thinking it. Yes, I was. Do you look good without them? I’m like a cloak rack. What? A cloak rack. I look better with things hanging on me. I don’t agree with you. Do I get to go now? No, wait. I want to say that you are a unique person.
Meeting you was not normal and I will cherish it. It’s funny that an old whipper snapper like me can bring out the child in you. Whipper snapper? What’s that? He just laughed. Sometimes I get a massage and it’s like a piece of crap, but this was good. Thanks.
I think that you are definitely not normal and it would not be wise to be around you often or I might not recognize myself sooner than later. Do I get to go now? Yes, I will let you go to your son. Thanks. He gave a little bow and I said: Namaste.
Look out for part 3 to be posted tomorrow.
“Any wine will get you high. Choose the purest.”
