OPHELIA OBLONGATA | SUGAR TONIGHT

            At 4:00 am Richard watched Annalisa sleeping in the glow from the swimming pool lights. He was a new man.  He could not recall who he'd been before he met her. She blew that man away.  It had been an incredible evening.   

            She looked like a Bond Girl all stretched out in the shimmering blue light.  The wind chimes made soothing sounds through the open sliding glass door.

            “Are you hungry?” he whispered when her blue eyes opened.

            She nodded. 


            "I'll rustle up some grub", Richard winked.


            She put on her silk elephant leg pants but didn't bother to put on her shirt. She followed him to the kitchen. There was nothing in the fridge except some risky banana bread.

  

            “I have to warn you, I didn’t make this.  My friend Carl put this in the freezer.  He’s an excellent cook but he puts hash in everything.  I can find a liquor store and look for something edible,” he offered.

            

            "It's fine," she turned on a radio she found on the counter and began to dance slowly and seductively, "You have a lovely home."

            "It's not mine. Carl and I are house-sitting our way across the country. You'll never guess who owns this house." Richard did his best imitation of an internationally famous poet as he danced towards her.

 

  

             They toasted the bread and made hot tea.  The hash made her talkative. Until now she hadn’t really said anything.  He learned that she left Stockholm to search for her big sister and that the authorities wouldn’t help because they didn’t consider Camilla missing.  She said her sister was the outdoor type.  She'd sent Annalisa a beautiful basket of pears from a fruit stand on Pearblossom Highway and postcards from The Devil’s Punchbowl and other world famous rock formations.  Annalisa was going to visit those places to see if she could pick up a trail that would lead her to Camilla.

            Another effect of the bread was that after a good conversation, more love making and a deep sleep, his stomach woke him up around 7:00 am like a raccoon demanding to be fed.  He was hungry enough to eat his pillow.  He was not surprised that she was not in bed.  He’d probably find her in the kitchen wolfing down that lonesome can of stewed tomatoes that had not looked so appetizing last night but was on his mind now.

            

            She wasn’t there.  She wasn’t anywhere.  He lost his appetite to a different kind of emptiness. He called his mom.

             

           “Mom, I’m sorry I haven’t called.  I’ve been concentrating on the play.  I don’t know Annalisa’s last name.  Just give her the added performances in case she happens to be in those areas when we are.  If she shows up before I get home, promise me you won’t let Bobby steal my girl, mom."

Bobby was a well-connected lead singer in a band that opened for bands like THE DOORS. He had hooked Richard up with the “housesitting for the stars” arrangement.  All Richard ever had to do was water a few plants, feed some fish and in exchange he got to spend a few nights in some of the most beautiful homes in the world.

              

           “Love you too mom.” He locked up the poet’s house and hopped on his motorcycle. His mom didn’t know about the private show of HAMLET at the estate on Key Biscayne.  He hadn’t told her about the rich patron who commissioned a nude performance of the play.  He was relieved that Annalisa was headed west and wouldn’t be connecting with him in Miami.  He held out hope that he might see her in Galveston.  That possibility was all he thought about as he sped through long, empty green stretches of cattle pastures in Central Florida.

     

 ~ To Be Continued ~