Samuel Shem has a new book out and even though I'm not at all familiar with him, have never read his work nor heard of him before I saw his name on the Porter Square Books website, I thought he might be interesting to hear so I went. He was interesting indeed. Apparently his book House of God became quite famous 30 years ago and he also wrote a book about McClain Hospital (the local nut house) and he did the play Bill W. and Dr. Bob, which I had heard about and wanted to go see a couple of years ago and am sad now that I missed it (although there is a DVD of it). He had a professor- like quality in his appearance and his reading felt like a lecture. What I found most interesting was hearing about his writing process- how he rewrites books 7 times, how he always knew he wanted to write, how writing is about doing it everyday. He gave me hope about my own writing. Marilyn Monroe said "I wasn't the prettiest. I wasn't the most talented. I just wanted it more than anyone else." What I lack most is desire I suppose.
I woke up today thinking about Shem and feeling too impatient to wait for the library's copy of House of God that I am on a wait list for, so I went to the local bookstore in Winthrop to peruse its shelves for Shem's work. I found not only House of God, but also Fine and Mount Misery. Also, I met some interesting local characters. It seems that Winthrop hides them almost as well as the Simon's Bookstore hides Shem's gems on overcrowded shelves.
Lee and Banafsheh were talking new movies and I jumped right in on the conversation, having just seen The Reader and wanting to see Revolutionary Road, both of which they were discussing.
"The Reader was excellent", I chime in. "I read it twice- years ago when it came out, and again before I saw the movie."
"Was it the same as the book?" Lee inquires.
"Mostly. I loved the book. I loved the writing, the words, so simple yet beautiful".
"Did you read it in German? Or do you mean that you loved the translation?" Lee asks.
"Ahh yes, the translation. You're right." I answer, not one for details or minute points, but amused just the same as her precision.
The conversation went on and then Lee got a phone call and Banasheh and I started chatting. She is a photographer and when I told her my interest in photography she invited me to meet a group tomorrow to take pictures at World's End. I gladly accepted, wonder now how I'll wake up in time to meet them, but also know that I need to go for my nourishment.
Later, I went to get a manicure. Elizabeth came bolting in shortly after I did and although Ive never actually met her before I know a lot about her. I heard her tell her story at her anniversary at an AA meeting a couple of years ago. She was so glad to be sober, so out going, so grateful. But something went wrong somewhere. Last summer I met her best friend at the laundromat. She was concerned because Liz was getting high again, using heroin and Liz's boyfriend was a known pedophile and the best friend didn't know how to confront her or what she should do. She kept saying that Liz 'slipped' and it was obvious that she didn't know a thing about recovery. We don't 'slip', we fall into a bottomless pits with no hope of getting out alive. I gave her my piddly advice and wished her luck. I said that if Liz wanted to get sober, she knew where to go. She had a solid foundation at one point and all those people were there waiting for her if she chose to get her act together again. But what I know too is that it often doesn't feel like a choice. This isn't exactly a pull-yourself-up-by-your-bootstraps disease.
Elizabeth is high tonight, I can hear it in her too rushed speech, her too loud vocals about her upcoming wedding (to the pedophile, I assume). The details of how much it all cost ($700 for the Hummer limo that seats 19, $600 for the DJ, $7.95 a piece for the battery operated waterfalls that will be centerpieces at each of the 20 tables at the K of C where her reception is bring held)are embarrassing. She is getting married at the church at Tewksbury Street- I wonder if she used to go to the Saturday morning women's AA meetings there. Liz is acting like Mei (the owner of the nail shop) is her friend but Mei is just being polite and not really saying much. Its obvious to everyone but Liz. At some point, I tell Liz she looks familiar and say I'm not sure where I know her from. She looks at me and says "AA" and then looks away. End of story. She doesn't want to talk about it.
On a whim, I get my eyebrows waxed for the first time. Mei's husband Michael convinces me I will look better. Mei and Michael are working in the shop every time I drive by, 6 days a week, at all hours.
Mei stands over me, waxing and plucking.
"Do you like working so much?" I ask.
"I like to work a lot. Its meditative." Mei answers, almost a whisper in her melodic birdsong voice.
"What do you like about it?" I'm forever asking people about their jobs in an effort to come to terms with my own.
"It feels good to make people look pretty." So simplistic.
After she does my eyebrows she darkens them a bit with a pencil and when I show Michael he says "You should always wear makeup, its one of the advantages of being a woman." I look over at Mei's bare face and catch the subtle insult he just threw her way. She doesn't flinch.
I hate Michael for these underhanded comments. I hear them every time I go in their shop. I know Michael is secretly gay. The tattoo he got when he was drunk at 19 gives it away- a beautiful rose on his left upper bicep. I wonder if hes just jealous of Mei's femininity.
As time wears on, Liz has become quieter and I know shes coming down from her high. She nods out while getting her pedicure. She comes to and asks Mei if she can write a check for $10 more than her bill claiming she lost her ATM card. Liz needs a bag on the way home. I only hope the check clears and Mei gets paid for her services. As I leave the shop, Liz is smoking outside and I say something about the cold on my way out, but Liz ignores me. She cant bear to see the truth and would prefer to remain covered in her shroud of denial.
