Country Strong

Another model cancels by obscure means hours before we shoot.  Sprained her ankle a couple days ago.  Thinks she needs to stay off it.  Hope this is not a problem.  Etc.

But you know--I'm tired. And I've overbooked.  I'm glad for the evening.  Except I cancelled my beauty appointment.  Yes, that's right--beauty appointment.  I have a woman who I pay to help me stay. . . O.K.  That's a stretch.  But she is not easy to book.

Still, after the model cancels, my Beautician says she'll take me at seven.  Good.  Time for the gym.  Afterwards I go to Whole Foods to buy a dinner I will eat at nine after the rigors of beauty ablutions.  I stand behind a woman in line at the checkout.

"Would you like to make a contribution to the. . . ," the hipster checkout clerk asks her with a very serious tone.  She pauses and says, "Do you punch in the amount?"  "Yes," he says.  "Oh, O.K., make it $20."  The boy is very serious as he searches the keypad.

Holy shit! I think to myself.  Does she even know what that is?  I know she listens to NPR like a Texan reads the Bible and has a book club to boot.  I'm not supposed to say that, I know.  But you know.

The hipster hands her her bag and she moves slowly to out to the parking lot to slide into her Prius.

Then he rings me up.  Beer, wine, 2% milk, full fat milk, yogurt, take out, and lots of stuff to regenerate my collagen and cartilage.

"Do you carry Camels?" I ask.

He looks at me deadpan.

"$63.96," he says without smiling.  I think about how much fun it would be to scare him.  He doesn't ask me if I want to contribute to the . . . .  I wonder at that.

I drop off the groceries at home and feed the cat.  An envelop is stuck in the door.  Very curious, I wait to get inside before I read it.  Too anxious, I set it aside.  Then I search the refrigerator for open beers.  I have three, and I don't know which is old.  I drink from them all and they all are, but the last one is really rotten and I'm afraid I might get sick.  Quickly I pull the scotch down and drink from the bottle.  I've had no other fluids since working out and few all day.  I feel the heat and the gentle confusion immediately.  Not wanting to get ill, I pour one for the road.  No use taking chances.

I remember the envelop and return to it thinking it is another offer to buy the Jeep.  It isn't.  And old girlfriend has dropped by.  She is only in town a little while, she says, and she would like to get together.  She leaves a number.

Not yet, I think, and hurry off to my little Russian Jew.  The Beautician.

On the way, I am stuck at a light, so I decide to call the number.

"Well, Jesus, if this isn't a mistake!  Now you'll be calling me every time you get drunk or need bail."

There is a blank pause on the other end of the line.  I tell her who it is.  When she speaks, I remember the smooth sophistication of her voice belies the maniacal life that proceeds it.  It is like slow honey.  I immediately get aroused.  She is free tomorrow night, she says, and she would like to get together.  It just so happens I have another model cancellation.

"Sure, sugar.  You know I always make time for you."

We used to see each other when she was dating a writer of some repute and was a part-time college student working her way toward twenty.  She was magnificent and everyone knew her.  I was far too old for her and did not take anything seriously which explains why I still have a sweet spot for her now.

We make dinner plans.  Sushi, I say.  Sure.  The golden light of sunset fills the car.  I reach down for the "go" scotch I have with me and take a long pull.  You can't be too careful when you are about to get a haircut.

"How do you look," she asks.

"I'm about to get a haircut, and my Beautician likes to cut my hair shorter than I suggest."

"Oh. . . I love your hair.  I love the way it feels on my cheek when I rub it across your back. . ."

"No.  That's the hair on my back," I tell her.  She giggles.

We agree on a time when her ex-boyfriend will drop her of at my place.

!!!!!!!!!

I come home much later.  I heat the take-out from Whole Foods and get a quick shower.  Then I open the wine and sit down in front of the television.  I find "Country Strong" on Starz, a premium channel I am paying for, so I decide to watch it.  Sappy.  Awful.  I finish dinner and pour a scotch.  I like a song.  Then a scene.  Then a scene that is a song.  It is a terrible movie and I must choke back the alligator tears at every awful moment.  I am sad.  I am happy.

Watch it after a phone call and whiskey and tell me what YOU think.  I can't wait to see if you are anything like me.