Meter Maids Eat Their Young Read Online Free PDF

Harrison’s death.”
    â€œAnd unofficially?” she said.
    â€œI’m keeping an open mind about that at the moment.”
    I sipped the coffee, thinking about Harrison, not yet feeling the loss I knew would come, and come with a vengeance. Staring out the window at the playground across the street, I spotted a homeless guy passed out on the sidewalk, lying up against the fence. Shabby, food-stained brown coat, black watchman’s cap over scraggly, unwashed hair, he looked an awful lot like the guy who had hit me for change back at the park.
    I turned my attention to a couple of kids in the playground. Two girls in pigtails: One swinging, the other pushing. A little boy in short pants spinning himself dizzy on the go-round. A tramp passed out on some drug or another, children spinning themselves silly. What was there about human nature that makes us want to find any way possible to alter our reality?
    â€œDid I ever tell you I lived in this house for almost a year when my Uncle Burt was in Europe?”
    â€œNo, you never mentioned that. What made you think of it?”
    â€œThe park across the street. Robyn and I used to sneak over there at night, swing on the swings, spin ourselves senseless on that go-round.”
    I turned to look at her. Her face had turned dark and serious.
    â€œLook, Teller,” she said, “and please don’t take this wrong, okay? I’ve only known you a couple of months, and I like you. I really do. Even though you are a man. But, from the stories you tell, one would think the five years you spent with her were the only five years you lived on this planet.”
    Her words pulled me up short. I stared at her for a long moment trying to decipher the feelings tumbling through me. It wasn’t so much that I felt hurt, more like … exposed, jolted into some sort of confrontation with the disjointed thoughts that had been plaguing me since returning. I turned my head away and stared out through the screened windows, watching the kids play in the playground across the street.
    â€œYou know, Jaz,” I said, turning back to her, “there are moments when I feel those five years were the only ones I’ve lived on this planet. Feeling alive, anyway. All the years since feel as though I’ve just been going through the motions.”
    I guess my voice cracked when I said it. I’m not good at sugar-coating my emotions.
    Her expression turned to one of concern. Pulling her legs from the porch rail, she leaned forward and touched my knee lightly with the tips of her fingers. “I’m sorry, Teller. I didn’t mean—”
    â€œNot to worry, Jaz,” I said, brushing away her apology and her hand. “You didn’t hurt my feelings.” I stood up from my chair. “Hell, you’re probably right. Look, I should go feed the felines before they do something drastic. I’ll talk to you later.”
    â€œTeller—”
    I waved her off and slipped into the house. Closing the door, I leaned against it and stared up at the ceiling. Back in the Robyn Zone again. Jesus, this was getting old. There were tears in my eyes. My heart was thumping in my chest. And oh how I wanted something hard and harsh with a real kick to bring me down to earth. I started reciting the Serenity Prayer in my head, over and over, the words blurring together. A minute passed. Two. My heart started to slow. I pushed myself from the door and made my way to the kitchen.
    I made a production of washing the cats’ bowls, lingering over the stacked cans of food in the utility room, trying to guess which flavor would be just the right one to please everyone. An impossible task, of course. Cats are never pleased. But the narrowing of focus, the concentration, brought me back into myself.
    What the hell had just happened? We had talked of Robyn before, but I hadn’t felt it had dominated our conversations. I tried to remember what I’d told her.