Meeting April In June

After taking my leave from Homer and Insensitive Juice Bar Owner, I made my way to Starbucks on Fourth and Vine. I stayed there and transcribed my Toby interview until I passed hungry and reached starving, then went to experience another Cincinnati standby - the chili.

Apparently chili is a big freakin’ deal in Cincinnati - I guessed that years ago when "Cincinnati-Style Chili" restaurants began popping up in Central Maryland and I wanted in on the real thing. I went to Skyline Chili, the main chili chain in town, and told the waitress, "I’ve never been here. Will you please bring me the most popular thing?" Three minutes later she appeared at my table with a plate of spaghetti covered in chili, covered in a mound of shredded cheddar cheese. It looked bizarre to say the least, but I was so hungry I would have eaten a stick at that point. "Um, okay," I said, a little surprised at chili on pasta. "Can I please have a spoon?"
"Oh, you’re not from around here, are you?" she asked. I think my Doc Martens give it away every time.
I blushed, "No, I’m not. So, why can’t I.. have....a spoon?"
"Oh, you don’t twirl it! You just cut it, like a pie. That way you get every flavor in every bite!"
"Ohhhh, okay." That made sense. Kind of.
So I cut my pasta like a pie. My Italian friends would have abhorred to see me do it, but as Ron Burgundy says, sometimes you just have to look yourself in the mirror and say ‘when in Rome’!"

Well, from experience, when in Cincinnati, don’t eat the Skyline Chili when you’re really hungry and eat fast. For some reason, it made me feel awful. I went to my car and tried not to throw up as I passed out for a nap in the front seat. It was the only thing that could make me feel better. I woke up sweaty and groggy when the poor woman parked next to me came to get into her car, noticed me, and gasped loudly. I guess she wasn’t expecting to see a bedraggled transient passed out in the car next to hers. I raised my head sharply, to see what had scared this woman, and after looking around I noticed her eyes were trained on me and that I was the scary thing. I was too tired to care so I rolled my eyes and laid my head back down. I thought about explaining the situation, but that would have required opening the door, poking my head out, and saying, "It’s okay, I’m just homeless!" While I’m sure that would have gone over smashingly, I just went back to bed.

After awhile I woke up and resumed my quest to find Rev. Shuttlesworth and somehow ended up in Kentucky. Seriously, only I could go looking for a church in Cincinnati and end up in Kentucky. After I crossed the border I figured, "Well, might as well stop and look around," so I took a drive down Dixie Highway. Two miles into it, I turned around to go back to Cincinnati. I didn’t like Northern Kentucky very much. The reasons why are as follows:

1. I stopped at a gas station to change my clothes and got only dirty looks from every single person in the place, especially the guys behind the counter. I wasn’t doing anything wrong, but from the first moment I walked in the door they were really hostile. I hate hateful people.

2. The strip is just like Rt. 1 only in Kentucky. Traffic lights everywhere and people are cutting each other off, swerving all over, just basically driving like shitty Maryland drivers.

3. Gas is even more expensive than it is in Cinci - $2.35 a gallon for unleaded! I got spoiled by $1.96 on the Seneca Reservation while in Dunkirk.

4. Whoever the Covington, KY city planners were, they probably could have been outdone by chimps. I know that I’m embarking on this trip to extol the virtues of every person and always give the benefit of the doubt, but I have little admiration for anyone who ends a two-way, eight-lane highway at a T-stop with a two-lane road with no demarcated left-turn light. Can you say "clusterf*ck"?

So after changing into semi-nice clothes and trying to do something with my greasy hair, I fled like a traffic-rattled refugee back to beautiful downtown Cincinnati, where I did the patriotic (pathetic) thing and went... right... back... to..... Starbucks. *sigh* Now before you say "BOOO!", it was the only place I could find that had a power outlet and that would let me sit for hours on end, starting and stopping a tiny tape recorder over and over again.
I worked until it got late, about 8:30, and then started walking over to McFadden’s to meet Kurt, when my phone rang. It was Donna, and she had a lot to say.

"I want to apologize," was one of the first things she said.
"Why?"
"I feel like I missed the boat. I read some of your blog last night and didn’t realize how you are. And I had you here in my home and didn’t even get a chance to talk with you. I was too wrapped up in my own thoughts. And when I got home from work today, it was like you’d never been here. You didn’t leave anything, you didn’t take anything. And the house felt a little empty all of a sudden."
"You didn’t miss anything, hon," I said, blinking back tears. "If anything I the one that missed out. I was so stressed about writing and my own chaos that I couldn’t even hold a conversation. And I kept accidentally cursing in front of your daughter."
"Oh, it’s okay. I just.... I don’t know. I feel like I missed it." She said a number of other things, the kind of compliments that leave you blushing for days. "And I have to tell you, I felt bad because I’m usually a very open person, but when CJ said all that stuff, I let it get to me. That night you slept in my room I couldn’t sleep at all, out of fear. And it was awful! Because I’m not like that! But I let her get to me."
I could understand that. Sometimes I don’t realize that people are taking just as big a risk on me as I am on them, because I know that I have no malintent. They don’t.
"When my kids liked you," she said, "that’s when I realized it was okay. But I was still in a funk. I’m so sorry."
"I am too. It’s okay. We’ll just have to get together again soon and hang out for real!" That made her laugh.

After awhile she said, "I’d really like to help you to the Alive concert. If you want to go, I’ll send some money with Jessi. That way, I’ll get to see it through your eyes."
"Oh my god, yeah, that would be awesome! I’d love to go!" Actually, that wasn’t a lie. I was really looking forward to it, and planning on going anyway.
"Okay, then we can settle the details with Jessi tomorrow," she said. "And I just want to thank you. You broke me out of my funk."
"I’m so glad. And thank you for everything you did for me. You’re amazing."
It was one of the greatest conversations I’ve ever had.

After that, I kept walking over to McFadden’s and tried to write some more. I write better on the computer than on paper, so that meant having the laptop up on a bar. And if there’s one thing that attracts drunks like a moth to a flame, it’s a glowing LCD screen.

"What are you doing? Are you in school? Then what is this for? Why are you doing that? How are you funding it? Where do you sleep? What do your parents think?" Once these questions start rolling, I know I’m not going to get anything done. So I start typing what they say instead. One guy, Bill, sat next to me at McFadden’s and said, "I hope for your sake you have a trust fund."
"No, I’m pretty poor. Actually, I’m really poor, come to think of it."
"Are you happy?" he asked.
"Yes."
"Then that’s all that matters. Put that in your book."

Bill also said, "Cincinnati is like the center of America. Proctor and Gamble? How much more American can you get? Hey, remember Marilyn Chambers, the X-rated movie star? Well, she was the Ivory Soap baby then she went on to become an x-rated movie star. She’s from Cincinnati." A child model who represents all things innocent who goes on to get gang-banged by the cable guy and milk man? Yes, how much more American can you get?

Kurt came out of the kitchen a few times but had to keep going back. He ended up not getting off work until almost 11:30. In the meantime, I started talking to the little pixie hostess, April. I forget what was said to get us into a conversation but by the time Kurt was off work and out of uniform, April and I had covered everything from shoes to boyfriends to Christianity to hair care products. Have you ever met someone you felt was just a kindred spirit? Well, April and I are kindred spirits, no doubt. We’re almost the same person.

Kurt came out and the three of us did some shots. "To making new friends!" I said. Handing the glasses back to the bartender, April said, "You should come home with me tonight! I’m going to make a cheesecake for my boyfriend, I was just about to go to the store! You can help! And then I can play some guitar for you!"
"Wait, wait," I said. "You play guitar?"
"Yeah! Why, do you?"
"Um, yeah! It’s in my car right now!"
"Do you write your own music?" she asked.
"Yeah! Why, do you?"
"Yes!"
"Oh my god!"
We clasped hands and screamed like teenage girls at an O-Town concert. Poor Kurt couldn’t do anything but sit back and watch, amused.

"So are you coming?" she asked. "Come on, let’s go!"
I looked at Kurt. "Um, actually, Kurt and I were gonna hang out tonight." He and I hadn’t made specific plans, but I’d feel bad ditching him in the eleventh hour.
With a bemused grin, he said, "No, it’s cool. You can go with April. We can hang out tomorrow or something." The debate went back and forth for another ten minutes but I finally decided okay, go with her.

April is a tiny girl with short, black hair and huge brown eyes. With her dark skin and exaggerated features, she could pass for Hindu, Polynesian, or even Middle Eastern. She is actually Native American and Hispanic. She’s only 21, but she acts so much older. Back at the bar, while waiting for Kurt, she told me the story of her parents:

"We lived in Oklahoma, my mom, my siblings and me. We were really poor. My parents fell in love but my mom was very Christian. My dad’s not. They weren’t married when we were born. Three different people at her church, even the pastor, told her, ‘If you marry this man, you will go to Hell.’ So she married another man, a man the church approved of. We moved to Texas. But my mom couldn’t help but think of my dad all the time. He was living [in Cincinnati] by then. She left my step-dad and they got back together, after years and years, and got married. Now they’re older, but they still hold hands and everything. They’re so cute."

If anyone reading this is still asking, "Jessica, why are you doing this?", the answer is right there.

She and I went to Meijer’s, which is just like a Super Wal-Mart in that it’s open 24/7 and sells every freakin’ thing under the sun. We bought all the ingredients for cheesecake and I was hit with a late-night sushi craving so we got some of that as well. At this point it was about 12:30. "It’s a crazy life," I thought as this random girl and I loaded the groceries into the car and headed home through the Ohio night to bake a cake.

As we stumbled through the recipe, both never having made a cheesecake, we told each other about our lives, things that broke us, things that made us stronger. April had a drug problem as a teenager and told me all about it. When I asked what a certain kitchen cabinet contained to warrant having a padlock on it, she said, "Pills." I told her all about Sean, my violent ex, and being homeless in New York City. She nodded her head vigorously when I said, "I don’t mind the pain and I wouldn’t change it if I could. It made me who I am today and I like me," exclaiming, "Yeah, yeah, exactly! Me too!"
I laughed, saying, "Kindred spirits, party of two!" I saw so much of myself at 21 when she told me about her friends and relationships. I tried to impart as much knowledge and advice as I could while still reminding myself that she has to make her own mistakes, just like I did.

She told me about her boyfriend, how he was perfect except for one thing - he was overly competitive, obsessed with money and power, coming from one of the richest families in Northern Kentucky and graduating top of his class in Poli-Sci. He introduces himself using his last name - "Hello, I’m Matthew Henner" - because that name carries a lot of weight. He’s in his first year of law school and wants to marry April, but she says not until he lets go of his I’m-A-Henner attitude. Together, they make quite an odd couple - he’s a blonde-haired, blue-eyed, trust-funded lawyer-type and she’s a tiny pixie with tattoos and a pink streak in her black hair, working her way through cosmetology school. But they love each other. It’s awesome.

She asked if I wanted anything to drink and I spied a can of grape juice in the fridge. "Can I have this?"
"Sure!" she said, handing it to me. I popped the top and took a gulp, then was accosted by a thick glob of sweetened corn syrup swirling around my mouth. I looked at April with huge eyes and bulging cheeks before I ran to the sink to spit it out.
"It’s concentrate!" I managed to say as I was scraping my tongue and laughing simultaneously. "AAAAHHHHH–EEEEEEEEWWWWW!" April about died laughing too and then we made the juice, still giggling. I’ll never forget how awful that tasted going down.

When our cakes were done - and they came out pretty! - we dragged ourselves up to her room.
She lives over the garage, so we could be as loud as we wanted without waking anyone. She grabbed her guitar and we took turns playing songs we wrote for one another, then switched to covers. I taught her how to play "Time After Time" and she showed me "Hey Jealousy". Before we knew it, the sun was up but we didn’t care. April told me about being a gymnast and how her parents took her to a hypnotist for weight loss when she reached 99 pounds. "Right now I weigh 102," she said. "The other day they pinched my waist and said I needed to stop eating so much." When I didn’t believe her, she showed me the receipts for the hypnotist, and for Weight Watchers, which they also put her on. "I really don’t care what they say. I feel comfortable the way I am. And I don’t compete anymore, so I don’t know what they’re worried about." Neither do I. Honestly, April is perfect, one of those girls that’s annoying because she can eat anything and never gains a pound, can wear anything and look amazing, and is so nice that you can’t hate her for it.

She told me about her old group of friends, the drug users and club kids, the ones that dragged her down. "I hit a breaking point and ended up in the hospital," she said.
"Funny, me too," I thought to myself.
She showed me a photo album, pointing to each person and telling me the stories. "That one, he went crazy one day and started slicing his arms with a penknife. It was in this room, too. See that desk over there? It still has blood stains on it. This one, he went into the hospital the same day I did. He overdosed and wrecked his car in the process. Now he’s clean, he’s in the Army. That girl, her parents were crazy-Christian. They sprinkled holy water on people before they went in their house. She developed an eating disorder and did a lot of coke. She tried to get away from her parents but she couldn’t. This girl, she had an eating disorder, too, and she almost died. She’s 5'7" and weighed 85 pounds. They took her to a hospital in Atlanta that specializes in eating disorders and now she’s doing better. She still lives in Atlanta."

So many broken toys.... Of course there were other things we talked about, all kinds of things, and found we had all sorts of things in common. Still, I don’t know that I want to write all of it here, because it’s somewhat personal. I’ll probably save it for the final version of the book - after getting consent forms. For now, just know that April and I left no subject, no matter how painful, uncovered and had a fabulous time. She is truly unique and amazing.

We went to sleep late and woke up early, high on excitement and music and fun. "Let’s go to Kentucky! There are actual nice parts of it, believe it or not!" she said. On the way out of the house, I met her mother and grandmother. Looking at her grandmother was like looking at a live version of Every Elderly Native American Woman In Any Movie Ever. She was so beautiful with her salt and pepper hair and deep crevasse wrinkles showing a life well lived. Her almond shaped eyes were cradled by high cheekbones and the lines around her mouth were obviously from years of smiling.

April took me to a beautiful spot high on a hill where the sunrise is said to be amazing. The Ohio River snakes east through the center of the vista, separating the two states. We took some pictures, then moved on to Devou Park, a public park set high on another hill. It also overlooks Ohio, but the view is northward, facing downtown Cincinnati almost head on. The city looked so gorgeous and looming over the green Kentucky foothills and Ohio River basin. For a moment I thought, "It’s huge!", then I remembered what New York City looks like from the rooftop of the apartment I had on Amsterdam Avenue and laughed to myself. Time can play tricks on a memory - almost.

April and I drove into beautiful downtown Covington (and by beautiful I mean ugly and by downtown I mean congested) and got some brunch at Frisch’s Big Boy. Not Bob’s Big Boy. Frisch’s. Coming from Bob’s Country, I asked her, "Who’s Frisch?"
"Um, I don’t know," she said. "The Big Boy’s dad?"
"Huh. I always thought Bob was his dad. This sounds like a paternity suit waiting to explode."

We went inside and I met my first nice Kentuckian! Our waitress’ name was Pat and I wanted to adopt her as my grandma. She was so tiny and adorable and sweet and her voice was high-pitched just like Minnie Mouse’s. She spoke very fast and everything was, "Yes, sweetie" and "Okay, honey". When she dropped the check, she told us, "Ladies, if you enjoyed my service this morning, the next time you visit you can just ask, ‘May Pat wait on me, please?’, and I sure will!" Well, I sure will, Pat. I will ask for you.

A pane of frosted glass separated our booth from the adjoining one, just like when John and I were at Bob Evan’s in Dunkirk. I told April the story of The Pig-Faced Little Kids and she dared me to smash my face against the glass the next time someone sat down in the next booth. Well, the next occupants were these three semi-cute, young businessmen in suits having a meeting. They seemed in no mood for games. Come to think of it, no one looked happy at all in Kentucky, except for April and I laughing our asses off over nothing and Sweet Lil’ Pat running around filling water glasses. I asked April why that was and she answered, "Northern Kentucky people are just pissed, because they’re a southern state but they’re not really in the south, their kind of up north. And they’re pissed that Ohioans are responsible for a lot of their economy, or that they have to come into Ohio for work, like in downtown Cinci or whatever. They resent Ohio. It’s almost like they want to be rednecks but the place is too populated and commercialized for them to really reach their full redneck potential."
"That’s too bad," I said. "‘Cause what this country really needs is more ‘Git-R-Done!’ bumper stickers."

Kurt called after breakfast and I told him, "April and I were actually very glad that you weren’t with us last night because you’re a professional and would have thought we were retarded the way we were bumbling through that cheesecake recipe!"
"Um, okay. Thanks?"
"Yeah, yeah, it’s a good thing, trust me."
We made plans to meet at 5. April had a doctor’s appointment and dropped me off in downtown. On the way, we made plans to hang out again the next time I’m in Cincinnati...whenever that is. Once I got to the city, I went to my old standby Starbucks, because I’m a complete loser.

At five I walked over to McFadden’s. Kurt introduced me to his friend Kevin and the three of us hung out and drank all evening. It was great because, again, it was like I was one of the guys. We just sat around bagging on each other for a few hours, basically, and then Kurt and I went back to his place and ordered pizza, and I was so hungry I didn’t even pick off the olives. We had made plans to go back out into the city after eating and changing but we both fell asleep, me on the couch and him on the loveseat. The next morning I rode into downtown with him to pick up my car and then went right back to his house - it would be better to chill and write there than spend money at Starbucks, y’know?

I spent the whole day there, being boring and writing, save for the 15 minutes when I went to the store for a soda - excuse me, a pop - and the two hours I took a nap. When I got online, Jazz The Kitten kept walking on my keyboard and sending my friends messages like, "ddddddddd333333333yyyyyyyy666iiiiiiiiiiiiii". Kurt came home, exhausted. Again, we had talked about going out on the town and again we ended up on the couches watching basketball. It was fine with me, it’s cheaper than going out. Between Kurt and his kitten the company was good and the basketball game was intense, although I was rooting for Detroit and they lost. I had to leave the next morning at 4 am anyway - to make it to the Alive, the big Christian concert, by 10 to meet Jessi.

I didn’t know what to expect at all. I was excited to see Jessi and see Relient K, the band she had gotten me hooked on, and that’s all I knew. Kurt got up with me to help me re-load my car. "Thank you so much for everything, f*cker." I said.
"You’re welcome, dyke. Keep in touch, okay?" I love being one of the boys.

Getting on I-71 North required driving straight through downtown Cincinnati one last time. "Goodbye, Rev. Shuttlesworth, wherever you are!" I shouted into the early morning dim. I decided that I loved the city, and wouldn’t mind living there if the opportunity presented itself, "opportunity" meaning grad school. The people are welcoming and smart and the city is fun, more fun than one would expect. I don’t know, for some reason the whole place really tugged my heartstrings. I felt at home there.