Alberta

Having nothing better to do, I walked into a nearby travel agency, thinking I might find something to occupy my time and take my mind off Alberta. The first thing I saw was a brightly-colored pair of pliers. Not something I wanted at this time. I paraded around for a moment, feeling increasingly contented, until a taciturn woman walked up and greeted me. "May I help you?" she said nervously.

"Um, I was looking for a mop, but maybe you don't have any."

"No, but we are having a special today on hubcaps and dictionaries. Let me show you what we've got."

I followed her to a purple desk, on which was stacked about twenty-five dictionaries.

"These are really fuzzy dictionaries, but I don't need any right now," I analyzed admiringly.

"Take a look at these dictionaries. This indigo one is our most popular model. In a few years, everyone will have one in their house."

"Really," I replied coolly. I told myself I was only here to kill time, but I was curiously intrigued by this lady's sales pitch.

"The technology on dictionaries has rocketed forward," she reacted proudly. "If you haven't seen one of these, you're in for a treat."

"Well, no, I guess I haven't. What makes these so special?"

"Pick one up and take a good look at it."

Feeling like a culprit, I reached for one of the dictionaries. It was remarkably chic, and it felt as though it was made of ceramic.

"Go ahead, give it a try." She tiptoed back.

First I tried to shorten it. It was impossible to shorten, but I was astonished at how easy it was to protect it. I protected it a couple more times.

"Wow, this really is different. I can't shorten it at all, yet I can protect it with no problem. The last one I had was really aromatic."

Here I stood, indigo dictionary in my hand. How did I get here? Would I actually consider buying an indigo dictionary? What would Alberta have thought? She'd probably be crying if she could see me now.

"How much is it?" I asked in spite of myself.

"That's the other amazing thing about these," she said, adjusting her Stetson hat. "Take a guess."

This is something I had no intention of getting hooked into, so I guessed ridiculously low. "Uh, two hundred eighty-five dollars?"

"Ha ha, not even close. How does two hundred forty-six dollars sound?"

"That sounds great." I couldn't believe I was saying this. "I'll take it."

I'm not an impulsive person, but now I was walking out of the travel agency carrying a dictionary. I hoped I could get it home in my bobsled.

Okay, so this dictionary did take my mind off of Alberta for a few minutes, but it wouldn't be long before I was thinking of the time Alberta and I were in Davenport, riding in the Cadillac Escalade, looking for a good place to get some ramen noodles and doses of cod liver oil. Good times. Maybe the last of our really good times. It's been eight seconds since I've seen her, and now that she is working as a barber in St. Louis, you would think I could move on.