RED BLUFF
i had an encounter with a man in red bluff, ca. i think that redding county would be more geographically accurate, but for some reason i associate my time spent in california with red bluff. one night him and i drove over to rosewood (definitely in red bluff) to the rundown driving range. he gave me a few dollar bills and told me, like a child, to go buy some flower stickers from the vending machine at the other end of the alley. i chatted with the cashier at the golf ball counter as she made change for me. the machine only accepted quarters. while i was gone he texted the 20-something he was involved with, the one i called miss red squirrel.
when it was my turn to golf, i awkwardly hit the ball and would then spin around to face him, in hopes of a reaction. most times he would be on his phone and wouldn’t look up, but every other turn or so i would look to see him taking photos of me with his cell phone. i often wonder if those photos of me still exist somewhere. i also wonder if he was merely taking a selfie and no photos of me ever existed for him.
we went to the bathroom and covered our arms with flower stickers. i was taking photos of our arms and my cell phone started playing the last song i had paused on shuffle. he heard the music and smiled and asked, coyly, if i was trying to set the mood. not with bear hands, i laughed. i left california a few days later.
a few months passed and we met up for lunch when i drove through red bluff on my way south. he ordered the jalapeño poppers to start, the house salad, and a few glasses of wine, dry, dry, dry. i wasn’t hungry. we talked about the ranch and the land rover. the new girl he really cared about. the last girl he still cared about. he winked at me, like he always used to, but this time it was slow and almost jittery. i looked at him with squinted eyes, exasperated, eyebrows merging with darwin's grief muscle. we both knew it felt wrong. the next morning he told me i could stay at the ranch for a few nights, whatever i needed, but that he had to go back to l.a. that afternoon. i watched as the land rover peeled out of the driveway. i packed my car and left him some writing in his room. i couldn’t physically stay.