THE HEIGHTS
Yulan walked in, his dad was listening to the Yankees and as custom asked with a hesitant voice, “what’s the score?”
“Oh, hello kiddo, I’m sorry you asked, it’s a feint. The whole of it is rigged, its a gimmick. They keep paying these people and
that batter boy is over 40, still can’t figure out he never had a mitt for a left handed hockey goalie.” He got up and walked in the
kitchen turned the ceiling fan on. He pulled out a plate from the refrigerator removed the cheesecloth napkin placing it in the
dish-drainer. “You want some pickle-loaf?”
“Thanks, I would have a tad. Have we got any relish?”
“Here,” reaching into the fridge his father pulled out relish and mustard and cheese. “We are out of bread, get some tomorrow
will ya? You want the crackers or that biscuit thing your mother made?”
“Have you tried the biscuit?”
“No, she put baking soda in it. That baking soda was in the fridge for four years. Those crackers are safer, they have a five
year shelf life I don’t care what the box says.”
“Oh I’ll try it, the biscuit thing? I knew you could brush your teeth with baking soda but didn’t know you could cook with it.”
After the first bite he did slather a bit of extra mustard but in defense the relish was a bit heavy to begin with and very quickly are
the biscuit the size of a bun.
“So you got your cap and grown back from the cleaners. Ready to go, right? You are all done with the grades? Don’t have
any surprises?”
“No, smooth sailing.” He smiled purposely reassuring.
“Good, smooth sailing, I’m gonna go to bed. Your mother had a headache.”
“Night, dad.” Yulan went into his room. He looked at his couch-bed and his computer picked up his cell and connected his
tether internet. It was a true conspiracy about the wireless cell phone tether interface, he was curious if that IT girl knew more but
he only had a few classes with her and what little he talked to her it seemed absurd to see if she wanted more. He already knew
that she was on the honors list so she must understand some of the things about networking he didn’t. He already knew the
Scripted
cable, phones, and the cellular were all on new carriers. He didn’t know where these installation people came from nor how they
got enough money to live where they were living, strange accents and the few places he would frequent has such a high
turnaround on employees he never could really figure alot of them out. He tried to go to the same cell phone store but then he
couldn’t get the same person at pretzel stand. Getting to know someone was impossible. He never saw new graffiti and no one
ever buffed the old graffiti, some of it was at least ten years old. He lost touch with his high school friends and anyone who could
afford to move, moved. He could not fathom how people could afford cars. He finally got his internet working, he still wrote things
down on paper before typing anything and decided to put one step forward picking up his address book, and wrote the smart
bagel lady an email. He wanted to ensure she didn’t get the wrong idea, he only wrote her about classes mainly just to contact
someone he saw almost daily and he always got the same dog walker, but he needed to build some form of business relationship
with her. Having the same routine was not enough. He thought she was to her professional nature, not seemingly attractive, not
ugly but not a head-turner, but she may know more about the type of business venture he felt would be necessary to survive. He
already knew neither of them were important enough in the scheme of things to draw to much attention, but she had no
personality whatsoever. Oddly, he thought that may be why I think she is perfect to figure out how to get money when not one
person wants to hire someone from his neighborhood.
The instantaneous email he received back was just as confusing as his apprehension about writing her in the first place. “We
had a class together two years ago, did you not contemplate this at the time? Surely, there we would have had an opportunity to
develop a long-term plan, in either case my internship never went through. No surprise, however the less of the even scale is
weighted with socks and stocks. Cheesecake always had the strawberries hun. I’m Lorena Bobbitt to these people. The factory
that used to supply your shoestring salesman is out of oil again asking with that car you don’t own. Are you contemplating stock
options?”
He couldn’t figure out the immediate response but wrote an instant reply. “What? Yes a restricted application that allows
people to watch the stocks I recommend and when they are applied, and I could show prospective clients the way they can
always assess real time results but show the graphs of potential growth so they don’t freak out on a bad market week. I don’t
have any money to pay you upfront but a per client commission might be the only thing provided I can muster some. How bout it?
I know your not from the neighborhood and wondered where you were moving.”
The reply again was instant, “I understand you speak a different lingo. They only have Apple and Cherry pie but Key Lime is
still hats down my personal favorite and that server always lies but it was about a rich boy who never came back and they all
wanted a better opportunity to find a pretty woman but then I’m not a truck driver and the rotten eggs are an empty cardboard box
sitting outside the restaurant. Go wait tables for men who mark time slapping a female rear end is my only prospect. I think a me
complicated design would financially benefit and since I’m already aware everyone in your family is an accountant we should
entertain the ideas of international currency options. That waitress hands out free stolen Pop tarts marking time on the wrong
vending machine. No coffee machine, no taxi, no law. All legal money routes just timing is everything. Finding clients who are
less interested in controlling people is the tricky part. People like to advise the help in this perfect future. But that was how they
knew Mr Ed was still buying shoes. You know the horse? That’s why it is the wrong vending machine. I always liked the blond
better who drives the distribution truck but no tree, no sap. It’s a promising prospect, let’s get together after graduation.”
Yulan sat and realized cherry topping was his own favorite if it were cheese cake, but they were maraschino one time and it
was still Sunday Bloody Sunday every morning. He didn’t know her nor when it was her maraschino Cherry Coke, and the last
time he asked for maraschino they had none, what if he was an Amaretto shot in some random bar? He learned early on bars
waste time and money. He was fishing for a hacker but he already knew exactly which bat they stuck his dad on, and didn’t even
know if she liked baseball. He laid down and tried to remember the first time he met her and couldn’t quite remember exactly
when as he drifted off to sleep.