Who Is Kelly Carson?

(This post is taken from another blog I read in passing. The writer is talking about our beloved step-sister, Kelly).

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Kelly Carson. I will not describe her. You who do not know her will not know her through here. Just recently Galo, close friend of mine bumped into her by accident. This was the scene.

Galo slowly pulled up the aluminum chair making an irritating clanging sound. The people in the restaurant did not seem to have noticed the noise he was making. Almost all 14 tables in the outdoor restaurant were occupied; chatting people here and there and the occasional sound of an automobile engine cruising by. He was meticulously ordering his Macchiato and a pack of Winston lights, when suddenly a deep female voice whispered in his ear.

“I’m not a slut, but I’d like to sit with you.”

Galo never spoke a word. He just looked at her with disambiguation.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” She positioned herself across him, pulled up her own more-irritating-clang-sounding chair and held out her hand. “I’m Kelly Carson.” She greeted with a broad smile.

Galo, apathetic.

Kelly took back her hand. She motioned the waiter who was still standing beside Galo and asked for a bottle of distilled water.

“You don’t know me.” She took out her pack of Marlboro Lights Blue and lit it. An ashtray landed almost immediately on the table. Galo’s Winston Lights arrived.

“I knew you smoked.” Kelly blew smoke away from Galo. “It is just written all over your face.” She smiled.

“Do you have anything better than that?” Galo felt the distinct edges of Winston.

“Oh yeah.” She tapped her cigarette on the ash tray and sucked on it. “If I were gay, I’d suck you off.” She blew the smoke slowly with her eyes on Galo.

“Flop.” Galo’s voice cracked in the boredom.

“You’re difficult.”

“You have no idea.”

“What’s your problem?!?”

“I know you.”

Kelly shrugged. “You expect me to be happy about it?”

“I don’t want you in my table.”

“Why?” Kelly laughed out. “What are you gonna do? Kick me off of my chair?” Kelly laughed louder.

Galo lit a cigarette as his coffee and her bottled water were served. He blew off the smoke then soaked his cigarette on the white foam of his coffee. Kelly was baffled as she looked at what he was doing. Kelly leaned back and pretended not to be worried about what he was doing.

“My problem is I know you and you don’t know me.” Galo took out his wallet and placed money for his bill. “You can’t compete with someone you have no idea about.”

“I want you down.” Kelly was not paying attention to him anymore. Kelly was watching a guy who just walked in wearing a distinctively Versace black suit.

“You way too far below to reach me and pull me down.” Galo moved his chair back

Kelly turned to him. “Really, now?”

“Yeah.” Galo stood up. “And seriously, get a better pick up line.” Galo slowly walked away from the table.

She was still looking at Galo when the guy in Versace turned to him and uttered something. He was standing at the bar by the entrance door. With his back to her, Galo did not seem to react to what the guy was saying. Kelly sat up tall, intrigued by the silent scene.

Galo reached for the handle of the garden fence that surrounded the restaurant and turned to Kelly. He smiled and left.

The Versace guy followed.

“God I’m getting old.” She looked at the familiar dance of smoke. She thought of Lyka.

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(I have nothing to say. I just miss my beloved step-sister, Kelly!)