Raymond Soulard, Jr. New Songs (for Kassandra) - The ...

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Gretta grins. “Yes! Oh! She hasn’t begun to figure you out yet. You’re her deepest
obsession. Nothing else really matters to her. She runs thinking maybe she can lessen the
whole thing, have some of her former life back, even if it was bad. But it doesn’t work. It’s
not working tonight, right now, While you sit moping she’s fiercely wanting you. If you only
knew.”
“I don’t”
Both women shake their head.
“How long do I have to wait?”
“Not long. You know that”
“Then what?”
“Resist being weak.”
“I don’t know how.”
“Learn. Fast.”
I sit up straight. “Riddle me this, then. How do I defend against the daylight?
Nighttime hope laps me up, easily. But come a thrashing sleep’s finish I awake empty &
nothing.”
They look at my pen. They look around at the grand-windowed coffeehouse we sit
in.
“When she calls you, the only thing on her mind will be: does he still love me? She’ll
only believe it or not believe it by your voice, & she’ll need to see you to confirm this. She’ll
need your touch, your kiss, your vow, & repeatedly. No less, & of course more.”
“You’re so frankly certain.”
“Of course. We’re part of your greater self, Raymond, who you squirm against no
matter how many times proven accurate & real.”
“She’s got ideas of me visiting Portland”
“Yes. Many.”
“As a buddy?”
They break up laughing
“So how do I deal?”
Gretta takes my hand. “By standing up straighter than you have in a long time.”
“Now what? Two weeks pass & suddenly word. She misses me despite her recent
nastiness. Is marrying, again claims so, & then he’s off to join the military. Now what?”
“Now you do what we advised. You stand straight. Let the dust clear. Wait.”
“Fuck it.”
“No way out but through, Raymond. You know that.”
A choice, as always. Belief in sequence or flow. Dream or polity. Gut or gutter.
“Vanilla or butter pecan” & two girls laughing.
Follow her while she watches you. Sing, listen. Believe. Flex but do not break from
the pain.
“She loves you, Raymond. As serious & vital as anything ever in your life, she loves
you. This matters. It simply does not end.”
I look from one to the other. “I keep failing to surrender.” They nod. “What next?”
“Reunion”
The Cenacle | 59 | October 2006