The Trickster Diaries/Chapter 114
Late January, 2016. I’d stopped writing completely. If I even looked at FB it was to unfollow one or more of my 330 nincompoop “friends,” or perhaps post a recent photo collage piece.
My concentration was more reality based, focusing on climate changes that now brought sweltering humidity to summertime in the high desert.
No way around it. I’d need to sell my landlord, Suzy, on the necessity of replacing the evaporative cooling system with A/C, or, come May…
She was cheap. Worse, a cooling system was not her legal responsibility. So online and on the phone research into affordable, efficient systems, collecting bids, setting up walk-through consultations, became my time and energy eating winter work.
Period. That’s all I did.
Until Suzy flat out refused to pay for it, which is when Sybil stepped in.
Discriminating? Principled? Let's just say Sybil was the kind of girl who'd happily buy you a swanky hummingbird feeder from Bloomingdale's before loaning you five bucks for a pack of smokes.
It wasn’t like Jan (yawn)—when he was still living in the states, still running the motel—ever called to tell me about his strange guests. All he ever got was strange. Lowlife strange. USMC bootcamp strange. Retard strange.
Jan: No no no, it’s not like that…
Me: Yeah, but you gotta wonder why someone MY kind of strange would be staying at—sorry, no offense—your motel. She sounds more like a Ramada Inn kind of girl.
Jan: Uh, maybe the handsome, charming host?
Me: Ha! Yeah. OK. Good one. So, a German citizen…
Jan: Yah, a German citizen but also an address in San Francisco. Goes on hikes in JTNP, visits galleries down the hill. Opera. Museums. Comes back with expensive art books…
Jan: Don’t know. Vegetarian. Doesn’t drink.
Jan: Uh, well, I know because I needed her ID, but…
Me: God, you’re so…
Jan: She looks 45.
Jan: Oh yes. Beautiful, actually.