hair, his loose anti-government talk at the bar, and most especially for his addiction to prostitutes. Now he didn’t even need to pay to have sex with beautiful women. Why wouldn’t he want to call it home?
A bicyclist sped by as they turned the corner onto Speedway, an alley just behind the boardwalk. Auggie thought it looked like the back of his therapist’s head. That reminded him that he had an appointment that day. He would have forgotten, as he often did, possibly purposefully. He figured paying the guy for the missed sessions counted for something, though he wasn’t sure what.
“Good morning, Griselda,” he said, smiling a broad smile as he stepped into his favorite juice shop.
“Auggie! You are looking so fit today!”
Auggie shrugged and Griselda laughed. She was a blonde German woman with an uncanny ability to tell just by looking at Auggie if he’d had sex the night before. Sometimes Auggie would do jumping jacks or push-ups before walking in, just to see if he could trick her, but it seemed he could do nothing to thwart her 100% accuracy.
“Nailed it again, G,” he said sheepishly.
“Maybe nail you some day,” she said, smiling suggestively and startling Auggie. She’d never made that kind of suggestion before.
“Don’t you have a boyfriend?” he asked sheepishly.
“No,” she said. “What makes you think that?”
“I don’t know, I just did.”
“You never asked me. Looks like your intuition is as bad as mine is good.”
He laughed. “You’re probably right about that.
Griselda raised an eyebrow. “I’m always right. Remember?”
She began to make his green juice without another word. He watched her strong shoulders shove the cucumbers straight down into the whirring juicer, then the apples, then the inevitable struggle with the spinach and kale. He knew everything about her lean arms and back muscles already. It would be strange to sleep with her. Rarely had he studied a woman’s physique for so long before engaging in bedroom behavior. He wondered for the 900th time how it was possible that he was considered in such a way by gorgeous females here in the land of gorgeous people in general, when back in Arizona, he was basically considered a grungy psycho who had to pay for sex.
“I still haven’t taken you out for a spin in The Zebra, have I?” he asked as soon as she switched the machine off.
“I think I would remember such an event, and I’d hope you would, too,” she answered with a dry smile, squirting a generous amount of ginger juice into the green mixture. She knew Auggie liked it spicy.
“Let me rephrase: Would you like to accompany me for an evening of debauchery in The Zebra sometime?”
Griselda placed the plastic cup of frothy, brilliant green juice down in front of Auggie and put her hands on her aproned hips. “We would go out, like, with a party on this party bus I’ve heard so much about?”
“Yes,” Auggie said, taking a tiny sip of the green froth on top. “It’s nice to have a co-pilot sometimes, and you seem like you’d be a fun one.”
“OK,” she said, nodding. She picked up a towel and began to wipe everything down.
“OK!” Auggie took another sip. “I’m picking up a party tomorrow night. A bunch of kids who just graduated.”
“Do I have to dress up?”
Auggie couldn’t help but grin. “Do I look like someone who dresses up? Ever? For anything?”
“Good point. You can pick me up here, then. I’m off at 6.”
Auggie glanced at the clock and realized his whole morning had gotten off to a slow start. If he was ever going to make it to Dr. Phil’s on time he’d have to get his ass into fifth gear.
“I’ll be here. Gotta get going, just realized I’m running late. Thanks for keeping me healthy, doll.” He threw a lid on the cup and grabbed a straw. “C’mon, buddy! Let’s go!”
Rusty ambled along behind him, never to be rushed.
Auggie sure admired that dog. Every day, stepping out of the house excited to walk around and smell stuff, even though he couldn’t see a damn thing in front of him. Rusty would forge ahead so surely when he was, in fact, never quite sure what lay ahead of him, and often times would stumble off of or into curbs. He’d never even pause to feel sorry for himself, just keep going like he knew exactly where he was headed. It was an incredible daily performance—tear-worthy, really. The old copper lab gave Auggie inspiration to leave the house every day. If Rusty could be excited about it and he was blind, what the hell was Auggie’s excuse?
Dr. Philip K. Parker::
“Right. So what makes you think this juice-making woman is a different story than the others, Auggie?” Philip leaned forward in his chair as he stroked his left mutton chop and tried to look pensive. Whenever he felt especially tired or bored, he made sure to pull hard in the opposite direction. He didn’t earn his $250/hour easily, that was for certain.
“I don’t know, man, Dr. Phil. You know, you just sometimes have this feeling like a lady is different than the others. Like she’s been through some sort of life tumbler that’s polished her into a rare gem.”
“Woah, Auggie,” Philip said. “That’s a bit idealistic for a stranger, isn’t it?”
“It’s true,” Auggie said as he leaned back on the couch, his arms clutching his knees. “Anyway, I just asked her out. I always thought she was taken, I don’t know why. I know it’s a little early to be talking about her. And I’m still seeing Stevia, who is a goddess but obviously very calculating, though I don’t think against me. I think she just doesn’t take me seriously, and that starts to weigh on your heart after a while, you know? Someone refuses to see you in a way other than ‘not good enough’ and you can only take so much of that.”
Philip stifled a yawn and felt his eyes water up. He blinked hard and attempted encouraging. “From what you’ve told me, you’ve been having a perfectly fine time with Stevia. An enviably good time, come to think of it. So what makes you suspect this? Has she ever actually said that you weren’t good enough? Or are you projecting that opinion on her? Is it you that actually doesn’t think you’re good enough?”
Auggie looked down at his big hands, which had found their way back into his lap. Auggie reminded Philip of an overly-suspicious hybrid of caveman, golden retriever, and bear. He had both a happy-go-lucky sensitive side and a dark depth that continued to surprise Philip, the former of which especially, since Auggie had done two tours in Afghanistan and had somehow not become a serious drug addict.
Philip genuinely admired that Auggie refused to take meds and he didn’t really blame him for thinking everything was a conspiracy. In fact, Philip kind of agreed with Auggie, there. He, too, felt like everything was a trap. And that even just thinking that was a trap in itself. Life sure was a long, glorious mindfuck, wasn’t it? That was why he’d become a psychologist: No shortage of demand, there, and he loved sitting on the throne of knowledge in the world’s most stupefying court. He’d be self-employed until he didn’t want to be anymore. That felt
