Santa Cruz

The floors where Terry lives slope either one way or the other ...and the doors don’t sit right … cold air rushes in at night. “It used to be a surfboard shed” she says “but I don’t complain, the rent is cheap and I can hear  sea-lions barking.” We’re eating cereal and drinking licorice tea on the wooden porch in front of the house that's in front of the shed where she lives. I see surfers covered with tattoos staring at us from across the street. Terry tells me to ignore them ...they’re usually tweaked. Say’s her neighbor Julie’s probably been bad-mouthing her again. I ask about her mother. “She's relentless …keeps tellin’ me I dress in skid-row fashion …going out to dinner is slow torture …she keeps bitching ‘bout the way I eat …says I got absorption problems ...probably not getting enough lithium in my diet or something.” I laugh and say “You mean calcium?” She goes “Yeah, that could be it ...kinda’ hard to tell when I stop listening.” I tell her lithium is a mood-stabilizer. She goes: “It’s probably lithium then ...” and we laugh. Later we go see Juanita who makes killer quesadillas and appreciates it when Terry tutors her kids.