robby

a post about a post

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Reply to: anon-44783640@craigslist.org
Date: 2004-10-07, 1:26AM PDT

i have been scavanging. i have decided that for as long as i am poor i am going to live completly beneath the economy. i am on my computer all day, sometimes even working, but i keep a constant eye on the east bay craigslist postings. it has been this way for about a week.

then wednesday. "lots of stuff, household items, on the curb till the truck gets it tomorrow. COME TAKE A L@@K," it said.

ok, i need household items.

an eight minute drive to a minor suburb and there is a lawn full of household items, as promised. a bookcase, a sofa, a stereo. a young asian couple, an old woman from down the street, and a tall glazed red headed boy in his twenties. all standing. looking at the stuff. the asian couple has already surrounded themselves with a small pile of goodies. most of the actual goodies in fact. the man of the couple is contemplating a well designed but cheaply made swedish chair.

the old woman is wandering thought the stuff, ocasionally bending over to take a closer look in the street light. it is night. it is always at night when this happens. taking things from the curb during the day is stealing.

the lanky redhead is just standing, looking around. i understand that this might be his stuff. maybe he is on cleansing binge. he's wearing jeans and a checkered shirt with a nametag. from a mechanics shop perhaps. i take this to be scavanged indy menswear. i have one just like it.

the old woman asks if this is his stuff. as soon as he opens his mouth i know that his shirt is not scavanged indy menswear, but his own shirt, from his own job, with not a touch of irony.

he is glazed, sort of hesitant in his reply.

"its my friends," he says, "she lives... used to live here."

"oh, youre helping her clean out her apartment?"

"no, well, sort of. she died. a few days ago. she died here." He gestures to the house, which i look at for the first time. Of course in my mind it now has sort of a sad romantic, creepy glow to it. It seems like a one bedroom apartment house, cookie cutter, vinyl siding kind of place. he has a vaguely attractive drawl to his voice, not southern exactly but maybe rural community college.

his sentances are short, stunned, with long pauses. she committed suicide. on monday. here. in her house. me and my friend. we saw her cat outside. it was an inside cat so we came over. we came in and there she was. with a plastic bag over her head. this is her stuff. we didnt know what to do with it. its just here. its weird cuz the people who lived in the house before her. they committed suicide too. people say its strange. these are her things. i didnt know what to do. i didnt know.

the asian couple stepped away from their booty as soon as the word 'suicide' tumbled furtively out of the boys mouth. i watched for that. i knew it would happen. i had the same urge myself. i was secretly happy that i hadnt taken anything to claim as my own so i wouldn't have to carry the guilt of superstition in the twenty first century.

"this feels awkward" the asian man said, as soon as there was a long enough pause. everyone wanted to run away. the couple was not going to be sheepish about it.

they left without saying anything more. i looked at the boy. he knew he shouldnt have said anything. he knew it was too late. it all would have gone to good homes if he had kept his mouth shut about it. he seemed embarrassed. i was embarassed for him.

the old woman, she knew it too. "i feel weird taking things now, too," she said to him. She looked up at him, into his eyes. He was cloudy. "but it was on craigslist, lots of people will come, this stuff will be gone by morning."

Slowly, "Craigs. List." he repeated, with that far away stare. Then he came back. "Is that where you heard about it?" He seemed honestly confused.

"Yes, didnt you put it on there?" she said.

"No. Maybe someone just saw it all out here. She has a brother. But he's in Baltimore. It only happened on Monday. He couldnt have known. Unless he drove for three days. but no. he couldn't. she hated her brother. wasnt close to him. She wasnt close to me really either. Didnt have many friends." He suddenly seemed dumbfounded about how all the housewares came to be on the lawn.

The old woman left, hurried down the street as soon as he glazed over again.

It was my turn. He looked up and realized the old woman was gone. Just a shadow a half mile up the sidewalk by the time he finished talking. I couldn't just leave hime here.

"How do you feel?" he said.

This seemed like a very emotionally progressive question from community college. "How do you feel?" Then I realized that the two responses before mine had been statements of feeling, I was still impressed that he chose to follow that line.

"I'm sorry about your friend," i said, "that sucks."

"She wasnt. I mean, I hardly knew her. I live over there." He pointed to an identically sad house, four driveways up. "I helped her out with a drain. Then she would come by sometimes. Bring me stuff. Thought she was helping me out i guess. Stuff she wasnt gonna use. I dont know."

He was sort of attractive. In a red headed farmboy sort of way.

Then I got scared. Maybe he killed her. And here i am, a woman on a dark street talking to a murderer. Me and him. Chatting. Over post-asphixiation prizes.

Then there was the rational. I'm over reacting, he clearly is still in a mild state of shock. He is sad and lonely and stunned. Poor, sad farmboy, with no one to hug.

"You dont want anything do you?" defeated. he sounded defeated.

"no. i was looking for something." guilty superstition averted.

"what was it? what were you looking for?"

i scanned the lawn. "a futon. i was hoping to find a futon."

he looked around. he had no idea what was out here. "i dont know if she had one. maybe she did. maybe someone took it already. sorry about that."

"thats alright."

he was glazed again. i turned to walk away. the movement broke him out of it though. "you seem like good people," he said rushed, to my back. please, please dont leave is what i heard in his voice. I turned and gave him the head nod.

"you too," and turned back around.

"maybe i'll see you around. take you out to dinner or something."

by this time i was almost at my car, quite possibly out of earshot. of course, i wasnt. but to him maybe i was. i didnt respond.

i'm not sure how much scavanging i can do now. i keep thinking about dead women and my farmboy killer.

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44783640