So here I am in Al Jubail, twitching and writing, waiting for a new assignment and that goddamn wind the locals call simoon to suck out what little water I have left in me faster than a parched kid can straw-suck a cherry coke. This has to be hell on earth, my love, just without the hookers and Justin Timberlake.
I would bitch-slap Jesus for a cigarette right now.
Let’s talk about us Jeri. There’s no doubt you’ve chiseled your way into my enlarged, slightly atherosclerotic heart. I only hope you’re as comfortable about our situation as I am. Allah knows I haven’t always followed the “straight and narrow”, but that’s probably because I have no fucking clue what that saying really means.
Just know this, sweet pea. 1) I have solemnly relinquished my heart to the whims and circumstances of your physically oh-so-distant equivalent and 2) I haven’t felt this giddy in the groin since that time I found a stack of Playboys in my pop’s closet. By this measure alone, I know I’m in deep.
The morning sirens are sounding, so I’d better sign off. Time to grab the prayer mat and square off with Mecca. We’ll see who flinches first. I’m not a Muslim, Jeri. I only play one on TV.
You don’t need to say it, I already know.
Ta!
- Mysterious Joe’s Last Stand Guy
p.s. The enclosed picture requires no caption.
p.p.s. The food here tastes like sand and shit-fed meatloaf.
Don’t order dog.
4.
“Seriously Jeri – who the hell is this guy?” Allie yelled toward the kitchen from the balcony of the third-floor apartment.
“I told you, I have no idea,” Jeri yelled back, uncorking another bottle of Pinot Gris. It was Sunday afternoon, and Jeri and her best friend Allie were enjoying their weekend ritual of drinking, lounging and marathon sessions of girl talk. She strolled back onto the balcony with the sweating bottle of wine in hand and dropped lazily into her chair.
“Okay, so let me get this straight,” Allie said, her glass of wine perched in one hand, the two letters in the other. “Some guy is hop-scotching around the world taking pictures of himself in a Joe’s Last Stand t-shirt. You’ve never met him – or at least you don’t think you have – but he writes like he knows everything about you. Oh, and he’s also apparently in love with you. Does that sound about right?”
Jeri leaned over and poured more wine into her glass as Allie waited for an answer. The two of them had been best friends since the day Jeri had answered a “roommate wanted” ad in the college paper. She’d shown up at the tiny rental house on Leroux Street, exhausted and emotionally numb after a sleepless night of breaking the final cord of a pitifully frayed relationship with her live-in boyfriend. Jeri still vividly remembered the moment Allie had answered the door – her tall, thin body dressed only in a t-shirt and tiger-skin panties as she stood casually drinking a beer. Allie had looked Jeri over through the screen door with a sympathetic smile. “I’m not going to ask,” she’d said flatly, “just make sure you don’t give the asshole your new address.” Now, years later, she didn’t need to look at Allie to know what she was thinking.
“Yeah,” Jeri replied with a sly grin, “that sounds about right.”
“I’m glad you’re finding this so funny Jer, because personally I think it’s more than a little creepy.” Allie kicked her feet onto the balcony’s railing and sank deeper into the cushions of the chair. Her short blonde hair framed her alabaster face as she frowned. “I mean, what if he’s some kind of serial stalker or molester? What if he shows up at the bar one day and says ‘Hi Jeri, remember me? I’m that creepy stalker guy. Want to grab some dinner?’ What are you going to do then?”
Jeri suppressed a laugh as she stared out at the picturesque afternoon. The distant slopes of the San Francisco Mountains shimmered like copper as the quaking aspens relinquished their summer colors to fall. A checkered sky of giant billowing cumulous clouds floated overhead, the sun casting their undulating backs in silver-gray light. And around her, shaggy, army-green spears of ponderosa pines stretched upward to frame the serene valley landscape. “God, it is so gorgeous here today,” she said with a sigh.
“Don’t change the subject,” Allie replied irritably.
Jeri reluctantly broke her stare from the view and turned to her friend. “What do you want me to do, Allie? It’s not like I asked for this. It’s not like I can write this guy and tell him to stop. And honestly, what’s the danger in it? What has he said that would indicate harmful intentions to anything other than his own liver?” Jeri paused as Allie rolled her eyes. “Besides,” she continued, “his letters make me laugh.”