Eye of the Storm

See, this is why I love Seattle. You never know quite what’s going to happen. In the past 2 days, I’ve surfed a windstorm, danced the night away, and shredded the backcountry snowboarding with my boy Wade. That’s more adventure than I’ve had in months.

 Have to say, though, this trip did not start off so well. When Charlotte texted me, I was in Death Valley with Marek. She said that she needed to talk to someone, but wouldn’t give me any details no matter how hard I tried to press them out of her. Cryptic messages about some fight with a friend were all she’d fire back with. I got concerned and sent a text message off to her husband, hoping for some answers. None were forthcoming. Frustrated, I asked if they wanted company. Asking was only a courtesy. I was going to show up whether they damn well wanted me to or not. 

 Our first night in Seattle was awkward, to say the least. I like to think that I know Char and Peter pretty well. They’re two of only a few nomads that I actually keep in contact with. (It’s Char’s fault that I have a damn Twitter page – she wouldn’t shut up about how easy it makes keeping in touch.) But from the moment that they came around the corner, I felt like I was looking at two strangers. Peter’s face looked cracked with greif and worry, though his lazy relaxed smile was plastered on. Charlotte’s always been fair, but her skin was unnaturally pale and her eyes were sunken in. They both looked like they had just weathered a storm.

 I knew better than to ask what had happened to them, but I picked pieces up along the way.  They had some kind of brawl with a longtime friend. Char later said that he was a VETA who’s now decided to turn on his friends who don’t agree with his lifestyle. I think she might have thrown the world cult into the mix, or maybe that was just my own internal commentary. Don’t know. Don’t care.  Marek and I did our best to just keep the conversation flowing; seemed like they just needed to lose themselves for a bit and find some distraction.

 They think they’re fooling us with those forcefully bright expressions. I’ll keep quiet and let them think they’re pulling something off here, but the fact is, these two are probably closer to the edge than I’ve ever seen them.  Peter can’t keep his hands off of her. They try to be subtle about it, but every time I look away, he’s reaching out to her or she’s reaching out to him. They’ve always been cute, but this is different. It looks like they’re both terrified of losing eachother, so they’re gripping on as tight as they can. When their eyes lock, it’s expressions of fear and worry that unite them, not the love that I used to see in their eyes.

 I don’t know what to think of this. I don’t know what to do or how to fix this. My gut instinct is to head to Forks and tear the bastard who did this limb from limb. Somehow, I don’t think that would help Charlotte or Peter in the slightest, so I’m keeping myself restrained. But the temptation to kick some ass is bubbling beneath the surface.

 I think probably my biggest indication that things are right on the edge of spinning out of control was that we headed out to Sangre and Peter was nowhere to be found. Peter and Char don’t separate. They just don’t. Then, I catch Charlotte slow dancing with Wade. Now, I know it was completely innocent, she’d never dream of cheating on Peter, especially in front of me. I wouldn’t let either one of them eff up what they have with eachother in such a ridiculous way.  But I could tell from the way they were talking so softly as they danced; there’s a connection between them. I ain’t happy that she’s not talking to me, trust me.  I don’t like being shut out. But I figure, at least she’s talking to someone, right? Well, that’s what I keep telling myself. I could be lying, who knows.

 I gotta jet, folks, we’re about to head back to the city.