Beset By Demons

• 7 Day Fast Over
• 22 Dollar Saturday

Saturday, I was walking towards the library at about noon, to post here.

Leslie called me, and began to apologize profusely about having called me a loser and an a-hole, etc. and then hung up on me; the previous morning.

Then, he saw me.

He just happened to have been calling from where I just happened to be walking past.

He said "Turn your head to the right, and you'll see me! I'll be right there..."

He then adopted several behaviors which have become "old hat" to me.

First was the sulking.

How soon he forgets...

I turned my head to the right and saw him on a corner about 100 feet away.

He turned and walked toward me, with his head down, as if in shame. It took him almost a minute to close the 100 foot distance.

I saw the almost full pint of Evan Williams Whiskey in his hand, before he arrived. A prop.

He saw the bottle of spring water, laced with cayenne pepper in my hand.

"Oh, you're not drinking, that's right...since last Sunday...that was the last time I saw you, on the corner of Bourbon and Iberville.. you had an Old English.*

Leslie was always good with, maybe obsessed with, locations. He could tell you that the first time we ever jammed together with guitar and two harmonicas was on the steps of 624 Dauphine Street; that night, for example. He gives excellent directions, as a result "...Then, there will be a house with a hanging plant on the front porch, with orange flowers and with frogs in the design around the rim of the pot...keep going, and then you'll see...etc.
He gave every indication of wanting to hang out with me.

I told him that I was very busy. We were in the middle of the French Quarter Music Festival and the streets were jammed with tourists. I left out the detail that I had made about $140 off of it, with 2 days left...

I needed to get batteries for my spotlight, and see about replacing a second fried micro-sd card reader (I think computer number 13 at the library is frying them) picks for my guitar; maybe a new harmonica, I told him.
That was like telling him that I had money.

He became exasperated. Here I was, with money, but couldn't be duped into spending it upon a binge-for-two.
He dropped his head and said "We could break off, then. You don't have to hang out with me" -the guilt trip?

Then, as my intention to do just that became clear and I started to turn away, he actually offered me a sip of whiskey, before "remembering" that I hadn't been drinking, going on 6 days. "Oh, yeah that's right..."

Then, a change came over his countenance, and his face took on a darker aspect, with flashes of anger in his eyes. "Hmm," he said, biting his lower lip and looking me up and down. "So, you're just drinking spring water...that looks like a Bloody Mary," he said suspiciously, almost accusingly (you're deceiving me?!?) and with a bit of venom.

"I put cayenne pepper in it," I said and started walking away.

Then, he followed the script with: "Well, is it possible for us to smoke some weed?"

I had some; and part of me felt like a Scrooge, but I lied** and told him that I would have to go and get it. 
Was he going to shadow me, so he would be right there if and when that happened. 
He didn't...

Smoking him up would mean spending time with him. He would spend that time trying to prolong that time; probably holding the joint forever and talking instead of passing it; and the talking would all be of the insidiously manipulative kind -him trying to get me to cave in and drink; or cave in and agree to go check out his new place, or just cave in and spend my whole day with him, instead of checking things off my list of "things to do."

*a cheap malt liquor
**it was a "white" lie; I would have to go into my backpack to get it.
22 Dollar Saturday