This morning, like many other mornings, was freezing. We had planned to take a cab; however, it was cold enough that they were hard to come by so we managed to figure out the bus and subway there and were at the salon in reasonably decent time.
The place was nice; there were many chairs and a curt salon hostess getting people in for appointments. There was much chatter and hair cutting. I felt horribly out of place. Mario was happy to see us. He is almost exactly what you would think a stereotypical New York hairdresser would be like. Gay as the day is long, burner-level piercings, dressed with a flair and total a chill person to hang out with. He and the Artist immediately hit it off.
“Well, who should I do first?”
“Her. I’m not going to be that difficult.” Which pretty much settled that.
We both got hair washes, she got a trim and a bit of tint and a gloss. We talked at random with Mario about our lives and who we were, where we were going, how we met, the lives we have entwined with others. As she was getting her hair done (which did in fact take much longer than me) I watched strange American soap operas and wondered how they managed to keep going. Haven’t we moved so far past the age of daytime television that there is no one left to watch? I supposed there must be viewers but who? I found myself wondering about who would be watching the strange colliding story if not just random strangers in a salon.
We hoped into a taxi to work our way back home, and before finally getting back to the apartment stopped off for some bread and additional snacks for birthday lunch, which was composed mostly of carbs, caviar, champagne, asparagus and cheese. Hellion joined us after he got off work, when we were still knee deep in caviar and champagne, so he joined us for our meal.
“Is that caviar?”
“I’ve never had caviar.”
“It really tastes best with the lavender confit.”
I think we rarely have a get together now without lavender confit. Her eyes meet mine and we smile as Hellion tries the caviar.
“You know it really tastes like fish.”
We both smile again and all three of us make an entertaining night of laughing, talking and drinking. So much so that eventually we give up on plans to venture out in the freezing cold night for a musical show. The warm of my apartment pulls us in on Saturday as well. We spend the last two days of her visit happily holed up in my apartment, vacillating between naps, talks, kisses, and my bed. It was the best possible way to spend those two days.
I helped her pack on Saturday and called a cab for her on Sunday. When Monday finally came around I just tried very hard not to miss her, while I missed her every step of the cold, winding way to my train.