Her Thirties Part 60
We were sitting in Harvey’s eating bugers and I was trying to explain to Abe how I dreamt about Marilyn before I even met her. He was struggling to wrap his mind around that.
“Don’t they call these things déjà vu? Maybe Yogi Berra just invented that word.”
“Oh my God—it’s déjà vu all over again.”
Abe missed the subtext. “That’s it—you think something’s happening all over again.”
“Except, this happened before I met Marilyn.”
“Oh yeah,” he said, crestfallen.
At that moment, Abe’s restless eye syndrome went into overdrive.
“What’s up?” I figured he spotted something suspicious.
“Take a look at these two,” he hissed under his breath.
Two slender young girls came and sat down opposite us.
They were wearing identical outfits—skin-tight jeans and black leather jackets. The one was a blonde and the other a redhead.
“Even I can tell those two are hookers, Abe.”
“Yeah, Pal—but they’re also lookers.”
I shook my head and went back to picking at my fries.
“So, tell me about this dream.”
The last thing I wanted to do was fan Abe’s libido.
“Sam and I were at a party and I somehow ended up in a backroom with this girl. She was upset and I began to comfort her—and we ended up kissing.”
“Man, you’re just like me,” he said admiringly.
“Uh no,” I said firmly. “You deliberately indulge in mental adultery—I happened to have a dream. I’m not responsible for my dreams.”
“Aha! —But you’re trying to make me responsible for bringing you and Marilyn together.”
His eyes were shining. He had me and he knew it.
I caved. “You’re right—you’re off the hook. It was just a coincidence.” And I added bitterly, “—a cosmic coincidence.”
“So, maybe Fate’s your agent of action,” he said smugly
I shrugged. “I don’t have a better explanation.”
His bear paw clapped me on the shoulder, “C’mon. Let’s go.”
We got up and started for the door, Abe veered and sat down at the girls’ table. My jaw dropped. It dropped even further when the red head said, “Hey Abe—how’s it goin’?”
“Hey, Darlin’—you know me—always somethin’ goin.”
“Who’s your cute friend?” the blonde asked.
I felt the color creeping up my neck as patrons turned to stare.
Abe reached out, grabbed my arm, and pulled me down into the other vacant chair. “This cutesy pie here, is Scott—he’s a university Professor—very knowledgeable.”
The redhead laughed. “He looks like he learns most of what he knows after dark.”
This time the color shot up to the roots of my hair.
The blonde intervened. “Aw, leave him alone, Cindy—he’s cute.”
I looked desperately at Abe. “I really think we should go.”
He burst out laughing, and pulled me by the lapels so my ear was close to his mouth. “These aren’t real hookers, Pal—they’re undercover cops.”
My eyes widened and the blonde patted my arm affectionately. “It’s okay—I guess we look the part.”
“You sure do,” I blurted out.
The three of them laughed—Abe so much, he was wheezing. He had tears in his eyes.
“Gotcha this time, Pal.”
I smiled resignedly.
Abe stood. “Well Darlin’s, we gotta go—hope we made your night.”
“You did, Abe—you always do. Drop by The Wheat Sheaf some night and bring your partner—we’ll show him a good time.”
“I’m sure you will,” he smiled. “Good night, Ladies.”
“What’s The Wheat Sheaf?” I asked on the way out.
“You teach history and you don’t know about one of Toronto’s oldest taverns? That place dates back to the 1840’s—always been a watering hole for cops. Hell, they say there’s an underground tunnel connecting it to Old Fort York.”
“No kidding!”
“”Yup—seems even back in the day, the militia would sneak away for a pint.”
We drove back to the Cosy Book Nook and sure enough, the two cops were parked outside closely watching the place.
“What time is it?” I asked Abe.
“Just past eight. You planning on staying the night?”
“Fat chance,” I snorted. “No, I’ll just go in and check on her and go home. Besides, I’ve got a committee meeting tomorrow and I have to read a brief.”
He smirked. “Let me tell you, Pal—I read briefs all the time and what I found out—they ain’t brief.”
I grinned at him. “I appreciate your looking out for us, Abe.”
“That’s me. Take care of yourself Pal, and kiss Marilyn for me.”
I gave him death eyes. He just laughed.
I doubt there was much that ever upset Abe—even being an unwitting agent of change in some fatalistic melodrama.
But, Yogi Berra? —That one surprised me.
Wasn't Yogi Berra a baseball player?
Yogi Berra was a ball player and famous for making illogical remarks like, 'it's deja vu all over again.' Abe quotes him unaware of the joke, but on a deeper level it's ironic because Scott is trying to decide if it's deja vu or his infatuation with Marilyn that's making him share in her possible delusion. Also he's puzzled by how he dreamt of Marilyn and became enchanted before he even met her. Weird...
To those in the know ... it is called manifestation. I like that your story works on the metaphysical level. It makes it layered and complex:)
thanks for sharing this post.
i appreciate your story
this great fiction.............
nice post , am gona follow it ,thank you
It is obviously a great writing & most educative value for us.
Love is forever that we know by dint of this pos.
Thanks for motivating us.
Nice story, looks somehow poetic, or is it just me
This is very interesting
You got a 1.72% upvote from @postpromoter courtesy of @johnjgeddes!
Want to promote your posts too? Check out the Steem Bot Tracker website for more info. If you would like to support the development of @postpromoter and the bot tracker please vote for @yabapmatt for witness!
This post has received a 2.41 % upvote from @boomerang thanks to: @johnjgeddes