Nostos

We could hear the tires screeching all the way down West Seattle’s California Avenue. Only the taillights and a glimpse of the whitewall tires could be seen of his 1972 Cadillac El Dorado as he sped away.

His temper had gotten the best of him, but I’ve always imagined that he softened as did the El Dorado’s cold leather seats by the time he rounded the corner onto South I-5. Once over the West Seattle bridge, he would not turn around. He would drive all the way home to Federal Way over this.

In the living room of my Grandmother’s Sixth floor condo that overlooked West Seattle and the Puget Sound, and on a clear and cold night, we resumed Christmas Eve as if nothing had happened. Lights twinkled on the tree that was adorned with crystal ornaments from Fredrick and Nelson and smooth jazz played in the background. Laughter filled the room as everyone relived the argument. Hands with red painted nails and silver rings clinked against glasses. My Grandmother once more, felt vindicated at how impossible he was; thusly why they had been divorced for twenty years.

“I don’t give a shit what he thinks!”

Of course she did. Olive skin. Her signature red lipstick. She was dressed to the nines. Sheer black pantyhose and black Cole Hahn high heels. A gold pendant, the longest of three gold necklaces, swung back and forth against a form-fitting black dress on her petite frame. The look served both revenge and elegance, even in the midst of an argument. When you dressed like that, it doesn’t matter what you’re arguing over so long as you look good.

And, still, he left. A mix of crown royal and pride had taken over.

Moments before, My grandmother had looked out over the water, marveling at the view and the stature of her address.

“Oh, look, there’s the Vashon Ferry.”

There was some back and forth between them. My Grandfather couldn’t take it any longer. He slammed his whiskey glass on the coffee table, it’s crystal bottom landed heavily.

“You’re wrong! It’s the Fauntleroy ferry!”

You’re wrong was said so strongly and so finite. It was a statement to sum up a lifetime. Two words so accusatory and short have become legendary.

He stormed out, slammed the door, and fired up the maroon El Dorado.