Without A Head (part 3)
I was cleaning my French press when the phone rang. This time I found it right away, the female voice on the other end said, “Do you want some head?”
I knew what she meant and I knew it wasn’t going to be what I hoped it would mean. “Yeah, sure. How much?”
“This isn’t about money. I’ll be over in about fifteen minutes. Make a pot of coffee. We got some things to talk about.”
“Make it fifteen minutes, I grind my beans fresh.” Before I could ask for a name she hung up on me. My caller I.D. said, private number, so I had a hunch she was calling from her cell phone.
The fifteen minutes passed quickly and just as I poured the hot water into the French press, my door bell rang. When I opened the door I was stunned by what stood in front of me. Her hair was parted down the middle, one side was white blonde the other side dirty blonde. The eye on the white blonde side was gray blue almost identical to my complexion (when I’ve gotten too much sun), and the other side was as dark as a pile of rat droppings in an attic corner. Her lipstick was one color, but it must have taken most of the stick to cover them both.
She didn’t say hello, instead she said, “I’ll take mine black, no sugar.”
“Just give it a minute or two to sit. So who are you and why are you here? I know it ain’t because you heard about my beans”
She looked me up and down, before I had a chance to get up, despite already standing. “My name is Agnes, say it softly and is sounds like Agnes, but quieter. Okay, let’s talk head.” Her words made some more of me stand so I had to sit the rest in order to avoid embarrassment.
I caught up to myself and replied, “Who was the guy? And where’s his head?”
“Damn, I left it in the car. I knew I forgot something.”
“The head, duh!”
I laughed and said, “I guess if it was attached to you, you wouldn’t have forgotten it.”
She wasn’t joking and didn’t find me funny so she didn’t laugh. Okay maybe my reply wasn’t that witty, but not so bad that she’d be this upset with herself. “It’s the antidepressants mixed with sparkling vitamin water. I can’t remember anything. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
“You don’t have to get it now.”
“I left it on the front seat. In this neighborhood they’d take it if it was still attached,” she said sarcastically.
She turned around, and my eyes got suicidal when she closed the door. I hoped she returned, head or no head.