Women - Charles Bukowski [155]
“I don’t know. It’s not important.”
“What’s important then?”
“You tell me,” I said.
“Well, I’ll tell you what’s important!” Lydia said. “We haven’t had a party for a long time. I haven’t seen any people for a long time! I LIKE people! My sisters LOVE parties. They’ll drive a thousand miles to go to a party! That’s how we were raised in Utah! There’s nothing wrong with parties. It’s just people LETTING GO and having a good time! You’ve got this crazy idea in your head. You think having fun leads to fucking! Jesus Christ, people are decent! You just don’t know how to have a good time!”
“I don’t like people,” I said.
Lydia leaped off of the bed. “Jesus, you make me sick!”
“All right, then, I’ll give you some room.”
I swung my legs off the bed and began putting my shoes on.
“Some room?” Lydia asked. “What do you mean by ‘some room’?”
“I mean, I am getting the hell out of here!”
“O.K., but listen to this: if you walk out the door now you won’t see me again!”
“Fair enough,” I said.
I stood up, walked to the door, opened it, closed it and walked down to the Volks. I started the engine and drove off. I had made some room for Mindy.
26
I sat in the airport and waited. You never knew about photos. You could never tell. I was nervous. I felt like vomiting. I lit a cigarette and gagged. Why did I do these things? I didn’t want her now. And Mindy was flying all the way from New York City. I knew plenty of women. Why always more women? What was I trying to do? New affairs were exciting but they were also hard work. The first kiss, the first fuck had some drama. People were interesting at first. Then later, slowly but surely, all the flaws and madness would manifest themselves. I would become less and less to them; they would mean less and less to me.
I was old and I was ugly. Maybe that’s why it felt so good to stick it into young girls. I was King Kong and they were lithe and tender. Was I trying to screw my way past death? By being with young girls did I hope I wouldn’t grow old, feel old? I just didn’t want to age badly, simply quit, be dead before death itself arrived.
Mindy’s plane landed and taxied in. I felt I was in danger. Women knew me beforehand because they had read my books. I had exposed myself. On the other hand, I knew nothing of them. I was the real gambler. I could get killed, I could get my balls cut off. Chinaski without balls. Love Poems of a Eunuch.
I stood waiting for Mindy. The passengers came out of the gate.
Oh, I hope she’s not the one.
Or her.
Or especially her.
Now that one would be fine! Look at those legs, that behind, those eyes….
One of them moved towards me. I hoped it was her. She was the best of the whole damned lot. I couldn’t be that lucky. She walked up to me and smiled. “I’m Mindy.”
“I’m glad you’re Mindy.”
“I’m glad you’re Chinaski.”
“Do you have to wait for your baggage?”
“Yes, I brought enough for a long stay!”
“Let’s wait in the bar.”
We walked in and found a table. Mindy ordered a vodka and tonic. I ordered a vodka-7. Ah, almost in tune. I lit her cigarette. She looked fine. Almost virginal. It was difficult to believe. She was small, blond and perfectly put together. She was more natural than sophisticated. I found it easy to look at her eyes—blue-green. She wore 2 tiny earrings. And she wore high heels. I had told Mindy that high heels excited me.
“Well,” she said, “are you frightened?”
“Not so much anymore. I like you.”
“You look much better than your photos,” she said. “I don’t think you’re ugly at all.”
“Thanks.”
“Oh, I don’t mean you’re handsome, not the way people think of handsome. Your face seems kind. But your eyes—they’re beautiful. They’re wild, crazy, like some animal peering out of a forest on fire. God, something like that. I’m not very good with words.”
“I think that you’re beautiful,” I said. “And very nice. I feel good around you. I think it’s good that we’re together. Drink up. We need another. You’re like your letters.”
We had the second drink and went down for the luggage.