Somewhere outside of Mesa Verde

  The slow creep of cold in the desert fall air started to ebb into the sunset. The aromatics of summer fading away with the dwindling of warm summer winds. Spruce dowel rods clicked and clanked as six deft hands spun delicate threads into beautiful tapestries.

  The scratch of carding wool kept time with the drop spindle spinning slowly against the open earthen floor. Birds sang softly in the distant cedar. The air was magnetic with the magic of prophecy, creation, and the truth of the inevitable eventuality of fate. Three women sit, working slowly as flocks of sheep muddle along in the warm afternoon light, their coats thickening for winter's chill.

  The youngest sister pauses as she comes to the end of a golden thread that shown like the sun. The three ply splits, roughly, abruptly almost as an insult to the piece. She stops, sweeping her long black hair over her shoulder. It's a shame that the thread had come to such an abrupt end.

  “Sisters...?” She asked tentatively running her fingertips over the last few rows. “Did we run out of the last bit of apple fleece? It's one of the last of the golden yarns. It's a shame to see it go...” Her voice trailed off as all three of them paused.

  “Littlest Sister, was it cut, burnt, or broken?” She asked pausing her spinning inspecting the end with a tut. “Last of it's kind it looks like. Oldest sister do we have anymore wool?” She asked as the eldest sister peered over the younger and the youngest.

  “That kind came from an old ewe that would come down from the mountain. They grew wild and care free. Only one kind of that sheep left. She only comes down when she wants to be shorn. Three daughters did she have, three daughters.” She trailed off in thought.

  There was a sigh of relief at the loom “Thank goodness she was a three strand. What's the colors? Let's see if we can't weave something new to continue the piece.” She turned with a frown. “Is that all the yarn?” she said in dismay holding up a full skein of rich emerald black, a smallest length of spliced and knotted cord, and a small bobbin wound on a short rod.

  “Eldest sister?” asked the second sister.

  The eldest sat back and resumed her carding with a shake of her head. “I didn't say that all of them lived.” She fought back a smile. “It's not like the sons of Dionysus.”

  I woke with a start on the bus. It had started to rain and Felecia still had her head pressed against a window. Looking out of the blurry glass. She was lost in herself again, in the half-awake state prior to full sleep. She was always so deep in thought she could certainly drown in her own depths.

  Felecia's parents passed in a car accident on the Dan Ryan after a truck jack knifed off the bridge. She knew that she had a bunch of settlement money. She really could be anywhere, doing anything, being someone. She decided to stay here. I had known her since we were three, going to the same Greek Orthodox school. Certainly she would be running this city or off doing great things to make her dreams become reality. Here and now, she was on a lonely bus that was taking her to the stop where they would have to part ways.

  Carefully I took out my contacts. Sleeping in them was irritable, even for this short time. I pulled out my glasses and things started to swirl back in to focus. Felicia could be more than someone. She had the gaunt athletic frames that models would die for, and hair with the natural wave added red toned strands among her long black hair. That had gotten her into a fair share of fights in school. For some reason everyone thought that she wore a wig or a piece to have such a full head of red-streaked waves.

  I opened my giant grandma bag of a purse to put away my contacts case where there was a note. It was scrawled on Osco stationary from the closet of supplies that had been there since the day they had opened the store. Never officially banned or pitched, but never thrown out once they changed to Jewel-Osco, Waste is waste, so now used for notes and inventory sheets, tic-tac-toe for the restless, I opened the envelope and looked over the letter, then back to Felicia who had dozed off at last, with a single head phone across one ear.

  It was no wonder she's tired. I would be tired. Her birthday was a week off. Having to live with the big empty apartment full of memories in a cold and unforgiving city. She'll be a no show tomorrow. It's 12 hours notice. A couple of calls and two days can be covered. She did buy an awful lot of bath supplies lately and a new toaster oven, she needed the time off. She earned it. Some good soup, grilled cheese sandwiches and she should be better than new.

  She should sleep. She had all of the reason in the world to sleep and dream. She had to call so many law offices and the courts for her father, who was a lawyer. The firm settled the wrongful death suit pro bono, and kept it out of the head lines as agreed. The gist of it was the company had a lack of experienced drivers, so the company had head-hunted kids right out of high-school to drive big-rig trucks on the long-haul routes. Never in any town long enough to get caught for ticket-able offenses.

  Over-exhaustion was rampant in the company, easily documented, and this accident was far from their first. Quite a few law firms latched on to the case and initiated peripheral law suits to make sure it would be the last. That resulted in a few laws to make sure that co-driving was the standard from then on industry wide. The standard was written into Union contracts. It was bad-turned-good, but still the loss was fresh every day for at least one survivor.

  She worked so hard day in and day out. In and out from the city to the suburbs every day. It would be one thing if she had had a desk job but this was different. It was war. It was retail. There was a different kind of tired that came with it. It was the kind of tired that would grind you down in your bones: Made you hate people. Replacing one kind of pain for another. Distracting the pain with another kind of pain.

  I paused shaking away from her churning, disjointed fading thoughts sharing space in my head, only to see an unusual man giving a leering stare at Felicia. He was the grossest cartoon character of a man. One that had that entitled look on his face and wore his one brand named item like a personality. Evilly and purposefully spread-legged on the jouncy bus, looking over my sleeping friend.

  I glared daggers into his eyes as I semi-thought out loud “Stop looking, you creep. I hope the grass eats you alive.” But said barely over a mumble as the bus came to an abrupt stop, giving him an unexpectedly painful jolt. Felicia echoed my words in her sleepy repose, nearly drowned out by the bus break's sharp shriek.

  It was the end of the line. The place where we two would inevitably part ways. I would go west into the suburbs with Hadrian, and Felicia would go east. Felicia started to wake up with a sleepy groan not wanting to get up from the seat that was right above the heater.

  “How long was I out for?” she yawned scrambling for her bags as I continued to cut holes to the back of the creeps head . Felicia's face held the impression of the window bar on her cheek as she stirred.

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  “Right after Holman you were out like a light.” I said looking about the bus. “But let's be honest I really think that you needed it.”

  Felicia was nodding her way off of the bus sleepily. “I'll be fine don't worry about me. You can take off without me.”

  I scooped up the crook of her arm as I helped her right herself like a wobbling newborn deer. It was one thing that Felicia could do, sleep. We called it 'time travel sleep' she would fall asleep one place and wake up in a another. Car rides, bus trips. Hell, even on trains it was all about the lull and I couldn't blame her. I hadn't seen her fall asleep this hard since 'doing time' in grade school. I knew she was over due for some time off and I wasn't at all put out to cover for her on the next shift 'till Monday. It was a 'holiday'. Having her come back to work on World Mental Health Day was hilarious and timely.

  “No No you big sleepy deer. I'll wait with you, don't care if Hadrian's there. We're going to wait together 'till your bus comes in. I don't care if he's there with his motor cycle ready to go. I'm going to make him wait.” I said in an all knowing voice.

  “Well Ms. Money-penny he... is right there.” Felicia had a bit of a stumble off the last step but there he was at the end of the bus stop curb, helmet in hand.

  I think that I may be getting over worked myself, from time to time I would look at him and his head would be missing. It's not something that I brought up 'from time to time'. It's not not like his head was NOT there. It was kind of like the warped space off of a flame.... his head. It would just be missing. I am pretty sure I am loosing my ever loving mind completely or it has to be drinking three cans of nitro cold-brew poured over Byers ice-cream would push me into a mild over caffeinated state.

  “Ope. He's spotted you. If he proposes again I'm gonna puke.” In the few steps from the bus stop and onto the concrete platform, Felicia had found her feet again with a stumble and sway. “What did he do to his hair? That's an odd shade of blue.” I squinted putting a hand over my eyes the glare of the high sodium lights always messed with my sight in the darkness.

  Hadrian's headless body bounded up. I knew that he didn't have a head because I could see the tag of his faded glory flannel under his band tee his jacket a large empty hole where his head ought to be, his helmet under his arm.

  “Hey, Sweet Pea !“ Hadrian cheered excitedly before he kissed my cheek.

  'How can he feel real despite not having a head? ' I absently thought for a moment as I closed my eyes and squeezed into his side. He was warm; smelled like a warm leather coat that had been riding thru the fog. “We gotta stick with Flea-butt for a while. She had time traveler sleep and woke up like a new born giraffe.”

  Felicia had switched out her work shoes for a new pair of tennis shoes.”Look Penelope Pug Face. I am going to be completely fine. You on the other hand accepted pond scum flowers and ditch weeds from The Rat King.” She jabbed back loosing her footing momentarily.

  “Oh ? The Rat King?” Skewed, Hadrian altered the tilt of his shoulders, which was similar to the way he would tilt his head to the side, like a big confused puppy might. This despite his missing head.

  I rolled my eyes. “Felicia calls him Rat King. You know, he's one of those guys from the Mag Mile; old money and doesn't know where he's at most of the time. He actually wanted to ask out miss Flea-ridden. So I don't know, she just doesn't have good manners.” I nodded to myself as Felicia's jaw dropped.

  “What do you mean? The man is OBVIOUSLY homeless. He runs around at all hours of the day in a pair of sweat pants bound off below the knee in duck tape with an old ass Colombo jacket over his shoulders. Oh.OH! Hadrian … Get this: he has an old style Burger King crown that he has on his head!.”

  Hadrian put up a hand cutting her off. “Whoa Whoa Whoa... I didn't say I didn't believe you. I know who he is, don't worry about it, and you know everyone's perspective is different. I have seen him. On Lower Wacker with the Heroes of Olympus, or that's what he was shouting at the top of his lungs at four in the morning.”

  “Hadrian! “ I cut him off. I hated it when he drove the late shifts. People on the south side started to drive half asleep around that time and it's never a good look. “I don't want you driving that late. “ I could feel my nose scrunch pushing up my glasses.

  “No no no. Your just not awake for it. Driving around the city at four is not that bad. It's like I have the entire city to myself. There is absolutely no one on the road. It's just me and the city. It's practically empty at four. “

  I pushed up my glasses and I pinched where I thought there could be cheek. It was nose. “You should not be staying up so late! You need to sleep some time!!!! You're either up too early or out too late! You can't be going around like that!” I made a little scene but then I heard the dozing off of Felicia hitting a light snore while still standing upright. That made me stop in a fit of laughter.

  Hadrian wrapped his gloved hands around mine “I think we should worry more about your friend.” He said. I could hear the smile in his voice I could only smile back to his collar label, shifting.

  He paused half way to waking up Felicia as she unexpectedly pointed over towards a box in one of the shadowed alcoves. “Oh man I hate it; finding boxes all over the place.” Then Felicia snapped right to it. Momentarily giving Hadrian a hard look like something was a bit off. “I hate it when boxes are abandoned next to bus stops. I never can tell if they're full of trash or full of kittens or dogs that people can't afford anymore. People from 'The Green' will take their pets to upscale neighborhoods hoping that someone will have the money, the heart and sympathy, to take them to the vet.

  Felicia glowered walking up to the box. “People still do that kind of thing? I thought the low cost shelters and mobile vet clinics were to help out with that stuff. “ Felicia asked while rubbing her eyes and pulling on a glove from her hand bag. “It's stupid cold this time of year. It's really very inconsiderate.”

  Hadrian opened the box holding his breath, happy to find just a natty moth ridden blanket, probably left behind for or by someone. I sighed a breath of relief. It was really easy to fall into just thinking about yourself this time of the year and not getting too concerned about people with less in the city. Earlier in the day there would be a man here with a double hoodie on selling Street Wise, one of the few publications that was sold exclusively by the homeless in the area.

  I would try to get a few copies in the morning and use them to wrap around the floral bouquets in the shop before putting the cellophane over them. They were my little way of helping. I know it was about as useful as dumping a cup of water in to the ocean to make it less salty but I cant help but be human and have some feelings like it is helping somehow. My own self-appointed 'Sisyphean task'.

  “Yeah but we shouldn't be leaving Felicia alone either she's been dozing off all day and has been getting her fair share of lookers. I don't mind Rat King coming around to chat her up. But you? “ I pivoted the conversation as we started to walk as a group to Felicia's bus pick up. “Felicia needs to watch herself on the bus. People get eyes on a girl that falls asleep on a bus they think that they are easy targets..”

  “Oh. I'll show them an easy target.” Felicia said taking out what looked like a lighter until it arched electricity out of it. “I'll give them something to limp home about.” She said with a chuckle shaking off her sleep and getting to a 'third wind' for the evening.

  Her bus was late by about a half an hour. We ended up walking laps around the terminal and chatting about pretty simple stuff. We did find a pair of a certain name-brand shoes left behind on an exceptionally green patch of grass. It was unusual to see that, but then again so was the blanket.

  Hadrian drove me home on his motor cycle, I pressed into his back, closed my eyes and I could almost hear in my imagination chariot horses in the roar of the engine as we stole away into the autumn night.

  It would soon be winter.