Chapter 2 - John and I walked toward Clive’s studio apartment surrounded by a comfortable silence that best friends can afford. The palm trees lining the sidewalks glistened under the street lamps. The mist slipped off the leaves like oil taking the light in each drop of dew. I even noticed the paw prints of a cat that had walked in the freshly poured concrete years before. I would have never remembered such things had I not gone up those old enamel-navy-blue-sun-bleached-rotted-out-soggy-wooden stairs.
She loved to hum “Dha Dhoo Rum Rum” every time I passed behind her. It drove me crazy and she knew it. When I confronted her, she told me I reminded her of Shaun Cassidy. “Who the fuck is Shaun Cassidy?” I said. They were not used to foul language in that kitchen either. “Look it up fly boy.” That’s what she said. I had no idea whether I supposed to look up Cassidy or fly boy.