Off the Shelf

When MikeDeCapite's new chapbook Creamsicle Blue came out last year, I promptly ordered a copy. I'm a big fan of his writing. Mike grew up in Cleveland and his wonderfully atmospheric novel, Through the Windshield, is set primarily in Tremont. I was living in Tremont when I read it and I felt like I was riding in the backseat for the whole journey. I had not yet met Mike when I ordered Creamsicle Blue, but we have a lot of mutual friends and he had generously accepted my Facebook friend request. 

After I ordered the book, I was surprised and pleased to get a personal email back from him, asking if I would like it inscribed in any particular way. Well boy howdy, give me an opening like that, and I'm liable to run with it. And run, I did. “Indeed,” I wrote him, “Please inscribe it, 'To my darling Blayne, Love of my life,' or something like that. Point being,” I said, “...something to make the book club ladies jealous.”

When the book arrived, I was not the least bit disappointed to see the following:

For Blayne- I'll never forget you, although you cast me aside. 

I still have your hatpin, by the way. And your tire iron, and your turtle food. 

 Mike 1/3/12

O, happy day! And I immediately thought that it might be fun to make up a back story to go with this inscription, but I was busy, and the idea was shelved. Until this past month, when the prompt for my writing group was “Off the Shelf.” So I wrote it. And I sent it to Mike and he said-- and this is a direct quote, mind you, “How great. I love it.”

I have now met Mike in person (exactly once) but I'm going to include the following disclaimer: While the two main characters in this story are actual human beings, the events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual events is 98.42% coincidental. No turtles were harmed in the writing of this story. To the best of my knowledge, my grandmother was not a Nazi. This story is not intended as a substitute for the medical advice of physicians.

Okay, without further ado...

2/18/13

Mike-

Thanks for sending me your new booklet. It was really nice. Sorry it's taken me so long to write back. You know what a procrastinator I am, plus I had to kind of...think things over. I didn't really expect to hear from you again at all, given what happened when we last saw each other. And I don't know where you come off with this “cast me aside” business, given that you were doing more than your fair share of casting yourself. Oh, and speaking of casting, I want that tire iron back! Did you go back for it that day, or did you wait till it stopped raining? Frankly, I'm surprised you went back for it at all and even more surprised that you found it. You flung it pretty far into the woods.

I actually had a flat tire about two weeks before I got this booklet from you, and I had to call AAA and wait a fucking hour and a half for them for want of that damn tire iron. So the timing of your letter was interesting, to say the least. The minute I opened the trunk and saw that the tire iron was missing, the memory of that day and all that followed (or didn't, as the case may be) came pouring back. And at first I was really steamed all over again. Jesus, if you could have seen the look on your face when you winged that thing. “Next time, change your own damn tire,” you yelled. Which is fucking hilarious, given that you know perfectly well that I tried to do it myself and you pushed me aside and said it was “man's work.” I know this was supposed to be your ironical feminist-hipster stance and you were probably just trying to help, but still. I could have had that tire changed in ten minutes flat, and without stripping the goddamn lug nut. And I think you really did have some macho pride and didn't want the guys driving past see you stand idly by while I, a mere girl, did all the work. Stupid male egos. Face it, I was always better at mechanical stuff than you.

But the whole thing actually strikes me as kind of funny now. Remember at the service plaza before we got the flat tire, that bride and groom in line in front of us at the Burger King? I think we totally ruined their wedding day, what with your being “inspired” (haha) at the sight of them to drop to one knee and propose to me on the spot, and my refusal on account of you didn't have a ring. That guy looked like he was ready to slug us both for mocking him. If I hadn't started up with the crocodile tears, I think he would have. On the other hand, they were eating turnpike cheeseburgers, dressed up in a cheap white gown and veil and an ill-fitting rental tux, so what's to ruin, right? I still wonder what their story was. I've occasionally thought that I should make up a back story for them. But actually, you should do it. You're the real writer. Do it and send it to me, okay? Seriously, it would be funny.

This is getting ridiculously long. Listen, you can keep the hatpin, or sell it on ebay, or whatever. That thing creeped me out anyhow. Why on earth my grandmother had a hatpin with a swastika on it, I'll never know. I've wondered if she was secretly a Nazi but I have no evidence for it other than that crazy hatpin. Did I ever tell you about what happened when she joined the Fairfield Transcendental Meditation group? Funny story; maybe I'll tell you someday. She was a quirky lady, my grandma. She always liked you.

I assume the fact that you still have turtle food means that Raphael died, huh? That's sad. I should have come back for him but, well, you know. I always thought of him as your turtle anyhow, even though I bought him. Why would you keep the food? WTF? You're a weird guy Mike, you know that?

And yet...(That's from your book, get it? )...I'm glad you got back in touch with me, really I am. We did have our problems, we were no match made in heaven, but what the hell. We had some fun too, didn't we? This new little book is actually pretty cool; it almost reads like poetry. You were thinking about me when you wrote that part at the beginning, weren't you? Is that why you sent it to me? It sounds like you've been doing some serious soul searching and maybe you've let go of some of that angst you've been hauling around. So you have a steady girlfriend now, huh? I'm glad for you. I hope everything is going well. How's life in the Big City? I've been dating this guy Micky off and on for the past year and a half. You remember Micky? Used to hang out at Edison's with Chuck and Alex and those guys? Well, right now were off. But he sent me a bouquet of pink daisies on Valentine's day, so...maybe.

Well, I hope you're still working on getting that novel published. You been working on that thing for...well, since me anyhow, and that was...how long ago now? A long time. Lot of water under that bridge.

I hope this means we can both let go of the past now. I'm going to unblock you on Facebook, so if you want to send me a request I'll accept it, okay? Friends?

Oh, and Mike? I'll never forget you either. How could I? Your name is tattooed on my left baby toe.

Blayne

P.S. I have a blue notebook of yours with your notes from that lecture we went to by that weird German guy about music and syntax or some crazy-ass shit. The notes don't make any sense to me, but neither did the lecture. He did have the greatest accent in the world though; that I remember. If you want, I'll mail it to you. Also, your 20 pound barbells, but the hell if I'm shipping those suckers.

P.P.S. I'm enclosing $5 toward shipping for the tire iron. Really, I want it back.