Start Fresh

Okay, that’s it. That’s all I’m saying. I’m done. Now all I have to do is get my sister to stick the sucker up on a website for me while the interest in elephant polo is still at its zenith. Have I said everything I need to say, though? Man, I hope so. Do I still want someone to sue me? Not really, no — I mean, they can if they want, sure, anyone can sue anyone for anything, but you have to be hurt in some way in order to win. There have to be damages. So, did I say anything that hurt anyone? I don’t see how it could have, besides it’s all true — and the truth is an absolute defense. Ha!

I guess there’s an off chance that Barbara Kalinowski might have construed my depiction of her as an invasion of privacy, but from what I remember of Barbara Kalinowski, she used to kind of like having her privacy invaded — the more someone invaded her privacy, the better she liked it.

As for Ginny, I heard recently that after she died her body was cremated and her ashes were scattered on Mt. Tamalpias. It comforted me to think that some of her ashes might have been blown by the breeze or washed by the rain down to the house in Kentfield where she and Elliot and I all lived for awhile — the house with the fishpond. I figure the fishpond is probably filled up with dirt again by now — dirt, ashes, twigs, dead birds, whatever — time for someone new to dig it out, no doubt, paint it blue, fill it with water, throw in some fish. Start fresh. I don’t know for a fact what happened to Elliot; I’m sure his mother saw to it that he got buried, but I don’t know where.

What about Melanie, though? Have I said everything I need to say about her? She’s still around, getting by from one day to the next. She’s still shy, not given to saying much more than needs to be said. We don’t live with each other anymore, no, but I still like her a lot. We went our separate ways. She became a Buddhist. I see her sometimes when I visit Wendy and my four darling grandchildren, each of whom I still, to the best of my ability, spoil rotten and dote on to distraction — Melissa, Amber, Caitlyn and…god damn it. What the hell is that other one’s name? I’m so fucking senile, I still can’t remember. She’s a cutie, though. The last two are twins, not quite four years old yet. I can see them in my mind’s eye — all curly headed and cherubic — but I can’t for the life of me think of the other one’s name…

Rachel!

Ha!