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I never bet against myself.She leans against the window. I have the aisle seat. Her purse is between us. I give the conductor our tickets; He is a happy kind of guy. I hard working sort of loser, 23 or so. He has that wonderful New York way of holding is head up in a pile of shit. He hates his life, but oh god does he love himself. I have to get this done, I reach over and hold Ashley’s shoulder: My hand grasps softly, my arm pulls her sturdily. She turns easily, like a sack of rice, a burlap sack. “Listen, I am telling you this is all fine, don’t get down about it.” She didn’t like this at all, her face tensed, it revolted against my words. She spoke softly but with great force, in short restrained stabbing movements. “Don’t tell me this is fine, my friend is dead, your friend.” She looked down for only an instant, “and we are sitting here without him.” Now I held her little frame, like a real man. I said “Be honest with yourself, isn’t there something… Something in this life you. ’ I pushed a cart in her direction then took one of my own. She turned left and I turned right when we were in the huge store. I had to wait on line to speak with a pharmacist, but that was hardly a surprise. It was Walmart, after all. I explained briefly about the problem and she recommended a product on the shelves, telling me that a fine-toothed comb was included. After listening to her instructions closely I picked up a bottle of the shampoo then went looking for some other ‘necessities.’ Shampoo and conditioner were first then a toothbrush and some mild soap for her face. I already had plenty of deodorant soap. I picked up some razors and shaving cream and some anti-perspirant. Then I walked into foreign territory—feminine hygiene products. I had no idea what she used so I got one of each figuring that we could just leave the others at the cashier. Thinking that I had everything I walked away, but turned back when I realized she would need a comb and brush, at least. I found her.
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