2019-10-27 - I think I'm going to Portland

It's a few minutes past noon when Andy's Lexus GX pulls up in front of Clarissa's big house. He briefly considers giving the horn a honk, but instead takes out his phone and send her a text message. "Here." Then he sets to killing time by fiddling with his phone, refreshing Facebook a few times, checking his email, looking at Twitter, all the normal stuff one does with a phone when one is killing all sorts of time.

There's a bunch of time to kill because Clarissa's mother was old fashioned and she learned early that you make a man wait for you. There's makeup to be perfected and hair to be spritzed one last time and then the shoes, there's a whole system. When Clarissa steps out of the house she looks like she's maybe on the way to some important fancy meeting with a black boatneck dress that's fitted at the top and through the three-quarter length sleeves and then flares out from the waist with a thick pattern of white lace around the hemline. And black heels of course. Half of her hair is pulled back and all of it has been curled without a wisp out of place and her bright red lipstick means she won't be getting lost in the fog or any crowds. Her usual vintage Hermes has been replaced by a small black clutch, which she holds in front of her as she waits expectantly for him to notice she's there.

Andy looks at whatever he's looking at for a little bit longer, waiting for some kind of text message to let him know when she's on the way out. On his screen a little person in the corner plays a very difficult Super Mario Bros level and is apparently not doing very well since hes getting increasingly agitated while Andy chuckles with the sort of vague amusement of one who is game. Eventually he does glance up, sees her and his eyes widen. Why the hell wouldn't she text?! He presses the button to unlock the door and sits there for a second, then makes a face at his own lack of refinement, gets out of the car and runs around to open the door for her. The inside of the car is clean, though may smell a bit of old fast food. There's a small Mickey Mouse sticker on the rearview mirror and a small stuffed raccoon toy sitting on her seat. Andy picks it up and tosses it on the dashboard, then steps aside for his 'date'. "I said the drive was an hour and a half. That was a typo. It's two and a half hours. Soooo... have you ever heard of Doug Loves Movies?"

She might have been getting annoyed at his lack of notice that she had appeared, but Clarissa takes it all in stride when he does notice her and gives him a smile when he pulls the door open. The sticker and the toy get a quick look, "...were you babysitting?" she asks uncertainly. He never mentioned kids. Or did he? She tries to remember as she gets into the car, "I have not. Is it playing in theaters now?" she sets her clutch down then puts her seatbelt on, folding her hands in her lap and turning to look at him, held tilted a bit. Is he asking her to the movies now? It's kind of adorable.

Andy glances at the sticker. "That's mine. I like Mickey." He gives her a challenging look, then puts the car in D and takes off. "What? No. He'll probably do a show in Seattle or Portland eventually, though. It's a podcast. These days I normally listen to audiobooks, but a podcast is a good way to kill time if you have someone in the car with you who maybe doesn't want to listen to whatever weird book you're 'reading'." While he's driving he pulls out his phone and makes a number of attempts at getting it plugged into the car's system. This is alarming since it means he's got his elbows on the wheel and his attention mostly in the no man's land between the seats. Finally the phone is plugged in and he gives a firm nod before resuming paying attention to traffic. Music starts to play. The Decemberists singing something sad.

Clarissa watches him throughout all of that, mildly impressed and terrified, glancing from his hard work to the road and back again. When he's finished and the song starts up, she leans over to unplug the phone, "Or, we could just talk. You haven't actually told me what this errand is. I assume it's something more important than groceries or bill payments."

"Hey! We can talk while music is playing! What the hell, lady?" Andy gives her an annoyed glare, then gives his unplugged phone an even more annoyed glare, then gives her a third, most annoyed and glarey of all annoyed glare. "It's just a thing I have to do. You can wait in the car while I do it. I just wanted company on the way down. And it's a pretty drive, so you can entertain yourself by looking at trees and quietly judging people in American made cars."

Clarissa gives him such a look, "I am not waiting in the car after a two and a half hour drive just so we can drive two and a half hours back. But if you want music while we have a discussion," she lifts her own phone closer to her mouth, "Siri, play Camille Saint-Saëns." And then, inexplicably, the phone actually does it and moreso, appears to have taken over the bluetooth connection because lovely, calming classical music starts playing from the car speakers. Looking incredibly pleased that it worked, Clarissa turns her attention back to Andy, "Is this police business? Some kind of clandestine operation? Am I your cover for getting close to something?" Someone watched way too much Castle.

Andy looks ready to protest, but then Aquarium starts playing and he listens for a moment, then shrugs and turns his attention back to driving. Just outside of the city they come to the US-12 interchange and he pulls up onto the highway, headed east. "Is this the Impressions of France song from Epcot? I love that. It's very pretty." But seriously, her phone is getting the boot if anything that isn't from Epcot starts playing! "It's not police business. And we're not just going to turn around. We're getting food. I'm not driving to Portland and not stopping by one of my favorite places. If you want fried chicken we can find out where FOMO is parked or we can hit up Cartlandia and you can choose from like a half-dozen different trucks. Though if you want pizza we can go to Scottie's or Pizza Jerk. People like Apizza Scholls more, and you might too, but Pizza Jerk is where it's at every time in my humble estimation. At least you don't have to wait an hour in line."

"If you can find me something that resembles a New York slice it will make the whole drive worthwhile," Clarissa leans back and closes her eyes for a moment to listen to the music, "Cartlandia sounds interesting, but I might be a touch overdressed for that." She opens her eyes and turns her head to watch him as he drives, "Was that what you liked best about Portland? The food?"

"It's Portland. There's no such thing as overdressed." Andy stays in the slow lane, his cruise control keeping him at no more than five miles an hour over the limit. "And Portland has its own sort of pizza. Baby Doll is good, too. But Pizza Jerk is New York-ish." Andy glances in her direction before looking back to the road. "I love Portland because it's a fantastic place to live. No American city is so green as Portland. So three dimensional. So varied. Varied in everything, from the food to the people to the ways a person can enjoy themselves. The view is beautiful no matter where you are. It was home for me for several years and considering I still have a condo there continues to be home, though I'm renting it out to someone else for whom it's home, so I guess these definitions are slippery." He gives the faint grin of someone who knows the answer to a question he's about to ask. "What do you like so much about New York?"

"Everything," Is Clarissa's answer, looking back out through the windshield, "It was always busy. There was always something going on. And if you like food, New York has a little bit of everything and then something else you never thought of that is more delicious than your favorite dish. There's something comforting about a city that never sleeps. Everything is right there, written on its face. Not like Gray Harbor, where every shadow seems to..." she interrupts herself with a shake of her head, dark curls bouncing, "Were you expecting me to say the pizza? The pizza was definitely a highlight, but so was being able to get a shawarma at any time day or night. Or even a hot dog. Not the cheap ones the tourists went for, don't ever buy anything from a vendor within three blocks of times square."

"The best hot dog I ever had was from some old guy who ran a cart in the middle of the Fish Market in one of the shittier parts of Boston. Speedy or something. Gigantic hot dog, absolutely drenched in some kind of special sauce of his own invention." Andy gives an approximation of a chef's kiss, bringing his fingers to his lips and giving them a quick smack. "Probably the least healthy thing I've ever put in my body, but it was good. Didn't need to eat for the next three days, too. No lies." The rest gets a nod. "I always thought New York seemed like a good place for insomniacs. Someone's always got a party going they don't care if people go in or out of. Probably some 24 hour gallery out there showing off a new collection of black velvet clown paintings or whatever. "

Clarissa nods, looking briefly wistful, "It almost didn't give you time to think there was so much happening. But you really think Portland is greener than Boston? Don't get me wrong, New York has my heart, but Boston was beautiful with the river and all the trees. The one thing about New York was that you had to keep looking straight ahead, otherwise you might notice you couldn't see the sky. It used to bother me as a child, I loved the park because it didn't seem like the buildings were coming down on me."

"Portland is significantly greener than Boston. Boston has some nice green space, yeah, especially since the Big Dig ended, but Portland has all the green of, say, a Boston Common condensed into a small park and staggered every couple of streets. It has trees jutting out of sidewalks that make an urban area into a forest of concrete and leaves. I've been told there is no place on Earth as green as Ireland, but I bet Portland could give it a run for its money." Andy tilts his head toward Clarissa, eyes on the road. "That said, I like Boston too. I could just do without Bostonians."

"Well, that's just sensible," Clarissa at least agrees with his last sentiment, "I've been to Ireland and it is magnificent. A castle on every corner. So many that the majority of them are crumbling and left to grazing cows. There are so many ruins like that the locals treat them like we might treat stop signs. Just things you walk on by without hardly noticing. If there ever was a place that might actually be magical, that was it."

"Yeah," drawls Andy, "it's weird that you'd say that as we drive away from a city that is actually, legitimately magical. Apparently." About halfway to Olympia US-12 meets I-5 and he heads south on the interstate, their home for the next two hours. "I've never left the country. Well, no, I've done the occasional weekend in Toronto or Montreal. But that only just barely counts. I've never been across either ocean."

"Maybe I'll pick the location of our next date then," Clarissa says with the smug tone only the rich seem to have. Her smile fades quickly at the mention of Gray Harbor being magical, "Whatever Gray Harbor is, it isn't magic. It's just..." she trails off since she doesn't have an actual response to that except for the denial. "I'm holding an open meeting tomorrow at town hall, are you going to be there? For people to express their thoughts about the whole casino thing. It's a done deal at this point, but I'm going to present a petition to the mayor and Foster and see if maybe we can get them to agree to one or two things that might protect the town. Parts of it, anyway."

"Well now I want to move on to the next date already. I've always wanted to see Hong Kong." Andy reaches across her to pop open his glove compartment before pulling out a pack of cigarettes. The pack gets dropped into his drink holder. "I'll probably be there. The casino doesn't make any fucking sense to me. Though I doubt anyone will be willing to answer me if I stood up and said 'hey, could someone explain this to me starting at the very beginning?'."

"It wouldn't matter even if they did. It's going to open and what we need to be focused on now is making the best of it," Clarissa eyes the cigarettes as he takes them out, "I thought you quit?"

"I did," says Andy mildly, even as he snaps up the back and taps the bottom of it against the dashboard. This doesn't do anything useful, but rituals are rituals. " And while I may not be able to stop the casino, I'd still like the whole damn thing explained to me, because it doesn't honestly make a lot of sense. Even knowing what I know."

Clarissa watches him bandy the box about with a look of disapproval before sniffing and looking away, "Money. That's really about it. Someone thought they could make a lot of money and convinced other people they would too and there you go. It's just a numbers game."

"But if the owner of the Quinault casino supports this new casino, then there must be more to it since the new casino will just split the audience to the casino he already has. People who weren't gambling before aren't likely to stop gambling now, but people won't want to take the time to go thte res will go here. It's just weird politiking. If anything he should have been fighting against."

"The owner of the Quinault casino appears to support Foster and this is a professional courtesy. At least, that's how it appears to me," Clarissa replies with a shrug, "He helped them get off the ground and become successful, it would probably look bad if they didn't support him even if it might cut into profits. Or maybe they have some sort of deal where if the profit dip happens he'll step in and share. They weren't very forthcoming with me in my meeting." She sniffs, like reverse racism might be a thing.

"That's not... that's not how it works, though. Do you know about the Mashantucket Pequot in Connecticut? They own a casino called Foxwoods. The biggest casino in New England, dwarfing its Mohegan-run rival Mohegan Sun. The Mashantuckets and the Mohegans don't like one another. The Mashantuckets had a ten year head start and the Mohegan claim that they're not really native, or at least not really Pequots, while the Mohegans are seen as copying the Mashantuckets to carve into their profits. And true enough when Mohegan Sun opened Foxwoods saw a 20% dip in revenue. Their first drop ever and it was tremendous." Andy glares daggers at the CRV in front of him. It's going VERY SLOWLY. But everyone in the passing lane is going VERY FAST. And this is putting him in a predicament that he DOES NOT LIKE. "Not tremendous in a good way. Anyway, in 2002 the Eastern Pequots of Connecticut come up with an idea. Hey, we should also open a casino. They put out feelers, put together a committee. The Mashantuckets suggest that maybe they shouldn't do it since the casino game is a tough one. The Eastern Pequots are sure that this is a good thing for their tribe, though. So they push onward. Less than three months later the state of Connecticut revokes the Eastern Pequots' tribal status. They are no longer recognized by the state or the feds and they can't open a casino." A quick glance back at her. "The Mashantucket and Eastern Pequots are both native, but more than that, they're of the same nation, hell, they were once simply the Pequots and members of one tribe until the government split their land and shuffled them into two different reservations. This is as close to brother and brother as you can get without sharing parents. And the Mashantuckets happily fucked their cousins just like that to keep from further splitting up their profits." With a roll of his eyes he pulls out from behind the CRV and guns the engine to pass. "In this game there is no professional courtesy."

"So what I'm saying," he finishes, "is that there's some shit happening and we should be concerned."

Clarissa listens through all of that with a very polite expression because he lost her somewhere in there when he started saying a lot of M name, "I am concerned, but I'm also practical and the casino is opening no matter what anyone tries, short of burning it down. So, it's just damage control at this point. We try to stop them from ruining an already pretty ruined town."

Andy gives her an incredibly annoyed look, then turns back to watching the highway as the careen their way down it. "Sure. You're rich. Whatever the real story here is, it almost certainly won't touch you." He grabs his pack of cigarettes and flips it back and forth between fingers, a mostly unconscious gesture. "But someone needs to figure out why this is happening. It's important. Nothing should tell you that someone is scary quite like having the meanest capo in history give them a smile and a deferential nod."

"Whatever the real story is here it's unlikely I'm ever going to hear of it and be involved," Clarissa replies in a testy voice, "One of us here is a police officer and the other is not. You can go ahead and play detective, but people like me--and by that I mean regular citizens of Gray Harbor--are unlikely to ever know unless it hits the front page. The thing is already basically finished. They're not not going to open it now. Thinking that you can somehow delay the inevitable is ridiculous, no matter if there's ill-intent behind it or not."

"Just because you can't stop something doesn't mean there's no reason not to try and figure out what that something really is," snaps Andy in response. He taps the cigarette pack and a lone tube slides out. Then he turns his hand and it goes back in. "But sure, you have your meeting. I'm sure the marsh finches will be glad that you made sure their land was respected when it turns out that this guy has links to ISIS or something."

"Well, you'll be able to tell me since they talk to you," Clarissa snaps back, folding her arms and looking out the passenger side window in a huff. Maybe this trip was a mistake. Some date! "Unlike you, I know the limits of what I can and can't do. And I can't stop the casino from opening so I'd rather focus my efforts on making sure they at least know that there are people in town that will fight them on things if they decide to be bad neighbors."

"Considering how little effort you're willing to expend in thinking about this I'm not sure you'll ever actually realize if they're a bad neighbor or not," grouses Andy, setting his cigarette pack aside and reaching down to unplug her phone. An hour of that is QUITE ENOUGH. "Plug my phone in. I'm driving. I have the right to decide if I want to listen to music other than that which makes me feel like I'm at a dentist's office."

Clarissa's phone was using bluetooth thank you very much! But she does as instructed and plugs his phone in, which takes over the sound system, "What do you want me to say? Of course there's something shady going on, but what do you think I can do about it?"

Andy sits in sullen silence for a few seconds too many before sniffing and primly saying, "It's good to know. Knowing is half the battle."

Clarissa gives him a very long look. Then she picks up her phone and starts silently thumbing through Instagram photos of shoes.

Andy lets that silence streeeeetch out. At one point he stops with the music and turns on a podcast. It's three guys, apparently brothers, with West Virginia accents making absurdist jokes and occasional jokes about dicks and farts. The scenery of a day that seems to have kind of gone to shit just flies by. Finally, when the show reaches a commercial break, Andy says, "Sorry to get snappy."

Clarissa does not seem too thrilled with this change, but she doesn't look up or otherwise even acknowledge that something is playing after awhile. "It's fine," she says in the smooth tones of someone to whom it is not really fine, "It's your home. I understand."

"Look, I'll just take you someplace nice, we can have some lunch, then I'll drop you off at a touristy thing. You can grab a trolley or something. Then I'll pick you up." Andy sniffs, glancing off toward oncoming traffic as a state trooper whizzes past. "This was a mistake anyway. It's too long a drive for something like this."

"What exactly are you going to be doing and why won't you actually tell me?" Clarissa asks, giving him an exasperated look, "I don't particularly want to spend a bunch of time by myself if we are supposed to be on a date. I could've just stayed home for that."

"I like you, Clarissa. It's why I wanted you with me. It's a long drive and..." Andy shakes his head, uses the excuse of passing a car with a big TRUMP 2020 bumper sticker. "I think we aggravate one another tremendously, but I'm not sure that's not a part of it. You're very annoying, but I still like being around you. So maybe we get there and get some lunch and go do a couple of things, take a trolley tour to the top of Washington Park and take in the sights, go to Powell's, see the tunnels, get a room at the W, enjoy it for a couple of hours and then go to dinner. A date that is a series of dates. Go see Zombieland 2 or Gemini Man or whatever. Have fun."

Clarissa studies him, trying to figure out if those were actual compliments or not, "That all sounds very nice, but what about that errand you still haven't mentioned?"

God she's annoying. "We're going to see my kid for his birthday," says Andy eventually, after much thought. "He's turning five today. The toy is for him. He loves raccoons." He gives an uncomfortable shrug. "Sorry. I didn't really mean to pressgang you into this, but apparently I also kind of did. Like I said, we can go have a good time and then you can stay at the hotel and have a champagne bath or something."

There is a long pause he could probably see coming as her mind whirls. Has he ever mentioned children? Is that what the raccoon is? She thought maybe it was a chew toy! She went over that whole line of thinking earlier and she's definitely sure, "You've never mentioned you had kids. Not that that's a problem," she says quickly, in the sort of tone that implies maybe it might be a problem, "But do you think it's...it's pretty early to..." he didn't actually invite her, so now this is awkward. "This is why you didn't want to tell me."

"Ah. Well." There's a long pause there as Andy looks at the road ahead of him. "I just have the one. Henry. He..." Andy's eyes are firmly on the California plates of the RV in front of them. The guy is going too goddam slow, but Andy doesn't look about to zoom around him. "When Henry was born he was the goofiest looking kid. I mean, I'm a good looking guy, and Manjula is gorgeous, but somehow our features combined to create a kid with just the doofiest face you can imagine. My love for him was instant and unconditional." He finally gets annoyed and pulls into the passing late, causing the guy who was also pulling into the passing lane, to honk angrily. Andy speeds up and passes the ancient camper. "I was overjoyed when I first met him, but I didn't cry. When he was a month old he smiled. A real smile. They say that at that point it's just reflex, but he saw me and he reached out his chubby hands to my face and gave me the biggest smile. That was the first time he made me cry." He lets the moment stretch out, just the faintest smile on his face, then when he speaks his voice is hollow. "But not the last time."

Clarissa does not pick up on the subtext here because she just got over the fact that she's interested in a cop and now he's a cop with a kid and that brings up all kinds of weird feelings, "That sounds...nice," she says hesitantly, "Pierce and I planned on having kids eventually but that...my mother thought I should rush it a bit more when he started to...but then he wasn't...it just didn't work out. But Henry. That's a good name. How old is he now?"

"Five." Andy slows as traffic starts to back up, leading to the I5 bridge over the Columbia River and into Portland. "He took his first steps when he was eight months old. That's early, you know. He was rock steady. If he could get there, he'd go there. God, that kid loved to walk. He was just waiting to run. Just waiting to get on a track. Win a pile of medals. Go off to Seoul or Brisbane or whatever, bring home some gold." He smiles at that, a genuine, fond smile. "Before his first birthday he stopped walking. He'd just fall over whenever he tried. He lost his balance or..." The car rumbles over the last bump in the bridge as he joins traffic in Portland proper. "He spent his first birthday in the hospital. Overnight for observation. He didn't... they tried... but..." He loses his words over and over, trying and failing to find his verbal footing. "We were in and out for months. He was looking forward to his second birthday. He wanted a dog. Or a raccoon, he said. I tried to explain how bad a pet a raccoon would be, but he was convinced that one would be good because he could use their bushy tail for a pillow." A quick laugh is cut off by a honk from behind as he's spent the last few seconds staring at a green light. Startled back into himself he says, "I'm sorry. You very, very much did not ask for any of this."

It takes a moment for that past tense to sink in and Clarissa keeps her eyes on the road ahead, before looking out of the passenger side window since she doesn't know what to say. "I don't know what to say. That sounds..." she trails off and then without looking at him just reaches over to set her hand on one of his on the wheel. She doesn't say anything else, she just squeezes his hand.

"It's not fair to spring this on you. Especially under the guise of you joining me for a personal errand." Back in the present Andy looks around like someone who hasn't been back home in twenty years and has found it all changed. "Jesus, where the fuck am I? I was just here a month ago." He sees some landmark, shakes his head and starts down the street. He turns his hand to squeeze hers in return. "I'm sorry. I just... I didn't want to do that ride alone." He makes a face. "God, I feel like a dick." Then, chipper, "Let's go get some pizza!" And then, "Now I feel like a sociopath."

"It's understandable," Clarissa replies quietly, "Whatever you need. If that's pizza or just someone to take a ride with you, it's fine. I've never actually been to Portland. We lived in Seattle for a hot minute when Pierce was in his...right before we moved to Gray Harbor, but I never came down here." There's a pause, "You can tell me if I'm--if you don't want ot talk about it. But is that why you got divorced? You and your ex still seem to get on pretty well."

"Yeah. I think... I think it takes a special kind of marriage, a special kind of person, to be able to survive something like that. To continue and to try again." Andy considers the city in front of him, then turns down a street that presumably leads to some pizza. Though at one point he takes a detour and starts up a windy road into what signs purport to be a public park. "I wasn't that special kind of person. I couldn't get past it. I'm still not, I think. I mean, if I was would I be visiting him on his birthday? Would I be bringing him a present?"

This is all so way out of Clarissa's depth that all she can do is continue to hold his hand and struggle to find something worthwhile to say. It seems so silly now to have dressed up so much for this. Then again, if he wanted someone with him to serve as a distraction, maybe it was a good call. "We don't ever forget the people we love, even after they're gone. Even when it would be easier to. Maybe especially because they're gone. I don't know the sort of loss you still carry, but it's...it's hard. It's always hard. Someone once told me that it gets easier, but that's not really true. It's always there. It just gets...what gets easier is not thinking about it moment to moment. But there are times when the pain is as fresh as if it all happened a moment ago. And I don't think that ever really goes away. You don't get past it, you just learn to live with it better." She blinks a couple of times and looks away, brushing the fingers of her free hand under her eye a moment before giving him a brief smile, "Sorry, if you want to change the subject we can."

"No. I got you to come down here with me, least I can do is not insist on changing the subject." Andy slows as he comes to the top of the park, a tremendous view of Portland and its staggering backdrop of Mount Hood. "I'm glad you're here with me. Even if I brought you through sketchy means. I thought... I mean, I like you anyway. But I also knew you'd probably be able to appreciate... certain things." Bringing the car to a halt he leans over to kiss her cheek, then sits back. "Pizza?"

Clarissa's eyes go wide taking in the view. It almost looks like a place people other than hippies and vegans would want to live from here! "You're pretty okay for a cop, which is to say," She adds quickly, giving him a smile lest he not realize she was joking, "I like you too. And so long as the pizza here is better than Gray Harbor, that sounds lovely."