Belltown Messenger

The gray remoteness of the Pacific Northwest can have an unwholesome aura. Looking west, while the rest of the sky is swathed in gray clouds and intermittent rain, a glow is sometimes evident, as if the feeble light was an accidental by-product, the manufactured detritus of a great energy producing machine not an organic orb of energy in the sky.

Seattle, a city that at times resembles an underwater metropolis, is not a relic of the past like a sunken port of call, but a moist city; busy, packed with cars, wet city streets where the few stray walkers are highlighted by the city lights in the murky rain.

Verity's eyes squinted towards the time on the cable box. 9:34. The rain had stopped, the sky a radiant cold blue. The cell phone next to her rang to the strains of "Black Hole Sun." She reached the on button after pulling out her earplugs.

"Hey girl, are you up yet?" It was her good friend Hermes.

"Yeah, that you and what time and damn it's early why are you calling so early & what day is & it's Sunday right?"

"You're just confused cause the sun is finally shining. I thought you were working last night. I was waiting for you at the club."

"Well, I did. I worked till midnight." Verily sat up grabbed the remote control and turned on the TV to channel 52, Breakfast with the Arts. Hermes, dressed in sweats and a hoodie, was already ready to head out of his small apartment to enjoy the sunshine. He reached over to the bedside table, grabbed his pipe and a lighter, took a big toke, coughed heartily and said, "You should have been there."

"What are you talking about?"

"The show last night up at the Lo-Fi."

"Oh shit, I know I was going go up there but when I realized that I couldn't find my video camera, I came home and tore this place apart. How the hell could I lose it? You know how much it cost me."

"Well, you missed a really good show. I don't even know who it was, you know, one of those local jazz guys but it was different, more soulful." Verity snuggled back into her bed. She looked out the window. The sun streaming in was blinding; after so many mornings of dark gray with the day starting to lighten at ten and darken at three, the intensity of the light depressed her even more.

"Hey, are you listening?" Hermes leaned back against the old iron bed frame. Cloistered by the continual rain during the darkest days of the year, the people of the Northwest tend to revert to a more primitive consciousness. The terminally depressed population searches for a deeper meaning to its existence, developing a subtle hypersensitivity to the environment. Either you crack or you try to have some fun.

"Yeah I'm here. I just can't believe I lost my camera. What did I do to deserve this?" She covered her head with the sheet and held the phone close to her ear, happy to talk to Hermes, a person she really liked. They meshed mentally. They had a special, almost supernatural, connection. Her eyes closed, she could picture him, his pale green eyes, dreads framing his light brown face. "Go ahead, tell me, tell me about the show," she said softly. "Well, I got there late, you know, about 11."

"Were there a lot of people?"

"Not too many; a lot of the usual suspects, Sabina and Mike and that girl with the big California teeth. What's her name?"

"Oh you mean Rebecca, she's so weird. What's she on anyway?" Verity smiled imagining that type of girl, the wholesome Southern California girl, with a crack pipe clenched between her teeth. "She probably smokes meth; crack is too ghetto for her type."

Hermes laughed along with Verity at the image. He continued, "Well, right when I got there the band started playing, three horns, an electric standup bass. The bass player was all over that thing. It was wild. There were drums, keyboard and two chick singers."

"Really, they usually have salsa or some kinda Latin jazz on Friday nights. What tunes did they play?"

"Hermes sat back on the unmade bed and re-lit his pipe. He inhaled deeply and coughewd out a big cloud of smoke. "Well, they started with a fast blues number just with horns. Wow, I mean there was this good looking dude on trombone, a black dude on trumpet; he was definitely cool and this old white dude on the sax all dressed up with shades on and shit." He swayed like he could still hear the music. "What are you doing this morning? I'm going to come over, ok?"

Verity's heart skipped a beat. Usually he was so busy that she couldn't hook up with him as often as she would have liked. "I ain't doing nothing, I guess. I still have to try and find out what I did with my camera."

"Did you check carefully? Where could you have left it? Did you have it when you got back from Portland?"

"I checked at work and I checked my place but I'm too scared to call the lost and found in case Amtrak doesn't have it."

"What are you talking about? Don't be so silly. You should call them." "I'm scared that they'll tell me it's not there. You know it's the karma thing. If I call them, it won't be there &."

"I guess I'll just have to come over and call them for you then." "My karma should be clean. I haven't done anything bad to anyone that I can think of. I worked hard to get that camera. I don't cheat or lie. I am a good girl. I don't see why this shit should happen to me."

"On my way over I'll stop and get us some munchies at Macrina. Do you want some coffee?"

"I can't stand the smell of coffee anymore since I got my BA, my barista degree. I'll make some organic green tea that I picked up at Uyajimaya's. Is that OK?"

"Green tea is perfect. I'll bring some smoke too. See you in a few."

Verity hung up her phone and thought about Hermes. He was so beautiful to her. They met a couple of years ago, when her boyfriend at the time played in a band with him. They hit it off right away; but Hermes was so moral. He made it a rule never to mess with the women of his friends, not like most of the Seattleites who shared themselves without any reservations. Hermes didn't want to lose his good dude friends over a woman. After she and David split up, Hermes remained her friend, although she would have given anything for a real kiss and more. She craved his touch but she controlled her deeper emotions so she wouldn't lose him as a close friend.

The doorbell rang. "That couldn't be him that soon," she thought. She got out of bed to answer the buzzer. "Who is it dammit?" she barked into the intercom. No one she knew would do a drop by without calling first, except the one person she dreaded seeing the most.

Hermes rode to Macrina over on First and Battery. As usual on a Sunday morning, there was a brunch line; and because it was the first sunny day in 33 days of rain, the sidewalk was crowded. He chained up his bike and headed towards the door. Sitting on the south-facing bench a familiar shape was basking in the cold sun, shoulders swathed in pale-blue and sea-green sari scarves. A smile broke out on his face as he rushed to cover her eyes from behind. "Guess who?" he whispered in her ear.

(To Be Continued)