"Hm," I say in response. The apartment door has closed behind me and I am making my way down some burgundy heavily carpeted stairs. The apartment building is grand and old. The stairs are narrow and I hold the white painted banister with my right hand. I walk through the lovely lobby of the building, Mr. Gryphon behind me. I walk out of the building and turn right. I am approaching the corner of Gough and Broadway in my beloved City. It's a pleasant, cool night. The cool air feels good on my tear stained cheeks.
"Do you want my opinion?"
"You seem to want to give it to me," I say as we cross the intersection toward my car. I am making slow, almost swaggering strides. Lower Pacific Heights is a lovely neighborhood of beautiful houses, apartment buildings, and school buildings.
"The bones of your ghosts are seeping in compassion and trust. They cannot hold themselves together for long before they dissolve leaving you in a place of affection and friendship."
I turn around about a half a block from where my car is. I stare at Mr. Gryphon. "What the fuck are you talking about?" I put my hand on my hip. My trademark tears are starting up again. I am angry and hurt. Angry at myself for tender feelings. Hurt about the situation.
"I mean," says Gryphon as he walks slowly up to me and slides his arms around me, "I'm feeling an affinity for your pup, there." The way he's holding me is too familiar for comfort. I pull away and start walking back towards the car.
"Yes, Mr. Gryphon, you AND the dog are apparently in complete agreement." He says nothing in response, but I know that no matter what happens he will still be there with me. He will not leave me and he will always give me a place to come back to.
Some lines from a song plays in my mind:
Lights flicker from the opposite loft
In this room the heat pipes just cough
The country music station plays soft
But there's nothing really nothing to turn off*
I stop next to my car. "Mr. Gryphon, why can't you be my boyfriend?"
He blinks slowly before responding. "I'm your imaginary friend. Boyfriend or no, it appears you've found the real deal, Miss Turtle. There's nothing to turn off here from what I can see." I glare at him and then make my way to the driver's side of my car. I get inside then open the door for him. He slides in easily.
"This sucks," I say my voice breaking a little. I have put my keys in the ignition, but have not turned them yet. I put my hands on the steering wheel, gripping tightly. "It appears, Mr. Gryphon, that I have truly found what I've been looking for."
"So you have, Miss Turtle. What are you going to do now?"
I grit my teeth. "You know what I'm going to do now." Mr. Gryphon smiles a rare smile at me. I turn the key in the ignition and pull away from the curb. It will be good to get home.
*Bob Dylan, "Visions of Johanna," Blonde on Blonde, 1966