The steam from the chamomile tea floated up from his cup, got sucked through his nose, snaked around his sinuses, and settled on the walls of Lou’s throat. Malcolm had recommended this tea before. It could calm the mind, soothe the nerves, and relax the muscles. Lou trusted Malcolm. On the other hand, chamomile was a weedy little plant that grew along the sidewalk. An area known more for muddy shoes and dog piss than for medicinal properties.
But here he was, confused, agitated, tense, and out of pot. Lou needed some tranquility or his head would buzz all night with unanswered questions. Thus, chamomile tea. He wondered when it would kick in and how long it lasted.
The apartment door opened and Nobody came in alone.
“Hello, Lou. I expected you would be downstairs by now, working on your chill.”
“Yeah. Me, too. I thought you’d still be at the dance.”
Nobody sat down across from Lou. “It was fun, until it wasn’t. The sound board up and died. I don’t know why. Most of the musicians packed it in.”
“Most of them?”
“The drummer stuck around, bless him. We jumped to that for a while. But his crew said they needed to pack his gear in their van, so that was that as far as music goes.”
“Where’s Tomoko?”
“She stayed. Tomoko doesn’t need music to dance. She’s a gem, that one.”
Lou imagined Tomoko dancing by herself in a quiet ballroom. Yeah, that fit.
“How are you doing now? You were in a state when we left.”
Lou held back from answering Nobody while he sipped his tea. He barely knew this older roommate. Did he really want to spill his troubles? Even so, Nobody had a kind and settling presence. It might be a good idea to debrief over what happened. Get this web of toxic notions out of his head. Nobody could be just the person to listen without judgment.
“Well, whatever was bugging me before is, like, ancient history. Tonight was just…” He raised his palms and looked upward, as if heaven held the answer.
Nobody leaned in with narrowed eyes. “You’ve told me a lot just now, without saying anything.”
With that, Lou opened up about Jax. From the moment they first touched, to being kicked out of her house. He rewound and played back his memories of the night. How he was invited inside, and fed, then led to her room. The way her studio/bedroom dazzled him. Sitting on her bed, how they drew close, then apart, close once more. But her mood leapt here and there. He tried to follow, or duck, or parry, never sure what had happened or why. He could barely recall what they talked about. But then, it wasn’t so much a conversation with Jax. It was an emotional joust.
Lou finished his tale and looked down into his cup of lukewarm tea. “Ya know, I went out tonight without expecting anything. But then so much happened. And now, I don’t even know what happened.”
Nobody had listened in silence until then. “I’ve come to expect the unexpected. There’s less shock to the system.”
Lou looked at Nobody. “So, do you have any answers for me?”
“Me? I haven’t heard any questions.” Nobody got up, disappeared down the hall, and left Lou to puzzle things out.
…down in his belly a twisted knot formed and squeezed.
Plan A was for Off Center to have their affinity group meeting in the ADA office. Lou received a phone call forty-five minutes beforehand that said they were switching to Plan B.
“Meet in the common area? How come?”
“I don’t know.” It was Howie. “Betsy called me and said pass the word.”
“Okay. See you at Cascadia.”
Lou arrived at the Cascadia Market building a few minutes before eleven. Some other Off Center people were standing in a small cluster at the top of the stairs. Both common areas were crowded and absorbed in commotion.
“What’s up?” he asked anyone who might answer.
Geezer replied first. “There’s some hassle about who was gonna meet where. Both FOLC and Confluence had planned their meetings in the big room, ‘cause they both have too many people for the small room.”
“What’s FOLC?”
Betsy cut in. “Food Out Lane County. They work to reduce hunger by creating access to more food. Like through gleaning, community gardens, and rescuing blemished food. And Confluence was meeting about their initiative to support grassroots projects.”
“Yeah, so, who was scheduled for the big room?”
Betsy and Geezer regarded Lou like he had just landed on the planet.
“You’re kidding, right?” said Geezer. “There is no schedule. People just show up.”
They heard a loud cheer from the larger common area down the hall. A woman of solid demeanor came through the hallway and made a resounding announcement.
“Listen up, people. Both FOLC and Confluence have decided, in principle, to merge into one organization. So we can all squeeze into the large room, and use this room for the overflow.”
Shouts of approval and loud applause filled the room. “Yes!” “Far out!” “Now we’re all FOLC!” a voice called out. “Confluence!” someone answered. “We’ll be Confluence.” “FOLC!” The commotion resumed.
The Off Center affinity group accepted that it was time to leave. Geezer led the way back downstairs, where they congregated on the sidewalk.
Olympia voiced the question they all wondered. “What now? What happened to meeting at the office?”
“I went down there early,” said Geezer. Everyone turned to him. “A sign said it opened at noon. And I have no idea who has a key.”
“I have a key.” Everyone looked at Lou.
“Why didn’t you open the office?”
“Howie called and said we were meeting in the common space.”
Everyone looked at Howie. “That’s what Betsy told me.”
Everyone looked at Betsy. “That’s what I heard from Geezer.”
Everyone looked at Geezer again. He put his head down and shuffled his feet. “Aw, shucks. I’m sorry, guys.”
#
Off Center finally began its meeting, only a half hour late, at the ADA office. They had thirty minutes before the office opened and became active. For rare expediency they agreed to wing it. They skipped choosing a facilitator, personal check-ins, and announcements. A new member, Pam, was welcomed without a speech. They confirmed by show of hands that everyone had completed non-violence training (applause for themselves). Next up on the agenda: Should they engage in civil disobedience as a group, or leave it to individuals?
Discussion bounced around the circle, overlapping, interrupting, sounding more like a fraternity food fight than their usual well-mannered, sensitive meetings. They were close to consensus, but Howie and Geezer held to conflicting ideas regarding mutual support, individual conscience, loyalty, and commitment. Fortunately, Geezer came around to Howie’s position. Unfortunately, Howie was convinced by Geezer. They swapped positions. Consensus failed. The subject was pushed to the next meeting.
Lastly, Olympia reported that the latest group spokes meeting discussed geology. Was the site of the Apollo plant as safe as Portland General Electric claimed? None of the spokes had a clue. Olympia had kindly volunteered Off Center to do some research. She smiled like she did a good thing. No one in Off Center had a clue either. No one knew where to begin. Until Lou said, “Um.”
All heads turned to Lou.
“I sort of know a geologist.”
He regretted it as soon as he said it. Yes, Anne’s boyfriend Philip, he was some kind of geologist, wasn’t he? Up in his head, Lou saw this as a smart idea. He could ask Philip for scientific data, share useful facts with the group, find out if PGE was being honest. But down in his belly a twisted knot formed and squeezed. Lou would need to go back to that house.