I shoulda said something about this before. Before Blaireau and me took off in the boat I went out to Starbucks and checked my email. Mostly a bunch of spam but a two day old note from Noelle. Just when I'm thinking I'm over her she has to let me know I'm not: "Hi Butter Boy, I know you don't like me anymore. I don't blame you. I wish we could have been just friends. I hope we can be friends again. I mean I want you to forgive me. You were there for me when all my so-called friends were not. I'll always owe you for that. It's just that I don't love you. Anyway it's really hot and icky here and I'm very busy but I think about you. I hope you catch Roy. I hope you're safe. I want you to come back to Miami Beach soon. Your friend,Noelle."
Friend? I had a printout of the email with me on the boat. I'd already reread it ten times and just had reread it again, leaning on the rail, watching the pleasant French countryside pass by. Blaireau was watching me, curiously, measuring my mood. I guess he picked up on what I was feeling.
"You are thinking of someone, mon ami?" He walked over and leaned on the rail a discrete length or two away.
"Girlfriend." I explained. "Well, not really, just a friend, someone I knew."
Blaireau nodded, reading my mood more than parsing any meaning from my words.
"Alors, friends are good. I have a friend not far downriver. Perhaps we say hello."
"Sure, Yves. Let's do that. Any friend of yours is a friend of mine." Truth was I was getting a little bored with the river and a little down from thinking about Noelle.
Sunday, August 26, 2007
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