The First and The Renegade Part I

There is a cowboy- not an actual bronco-wrangler but for some reason I'm thinking of him as the cowboy, it fits, though maybe The Renegade would be better. I like that better. It's like urban cowboy, it's the cowboy mystique without the wild west which is dissapointing with its strip malls and factory farms anyway. But the rocks are lovely.

So The Renegade, he is laying on his back across a couple of metal folding chairs in a row, looking lazy at the ceiling sometimes (there are big metal rafters up there, criss-crossing and peaking in the middle), sometimes eyes closed and you can't tell if he's awake. Basketball hoops are at either end of the row and people are hustling and bustling all around the perimeter, setting up for something. The Renegade blends into the very middle of it all, unnoticed but watching, or noticed but not bothered with, for just this moment. A door is open at the side of the gym (I guess it's a gym then, the rafter-building) and it is still daylight and it will be spring in three days but it is just close enough to pretend and to have a little pre-infatuation with the outdoors, which everyone is doing by leaving the door open. Plus, it's hot in there (all the people, lights).

The Renegade could be here or he could be miles away, dreaming about his previous lives, we still can't tell. He doesn't dress like a cowboy, but you could almost see the Stetson resting on his forehead so only a sliver is available to his eyes. Rolled up jeans and a cotton shirt, versatile looking sneakers that make him ready, all the time, for some kinda action, but they are kicked up just right, ankles crossed mid-chair and his body in a drawn out C shape slightly so he can fit on the row. Or maybe he is wearing boots, but nothing clunky. Athletic boots, that might be it, is that a thing?. He is like a lion on a rock in the middle of the savannah while creatures move about around about him and he is there but not, they know it, but not, and in five minutes this whole scene will be over and he will be animal again, not God.

There's a screech of feedback from the speakers, and a screeching chorus in response but The Renegade, he doesn't move, only closes his lids a little more and focuses on that one place where the beams are coming together up above. Everyone must leave the floor- he doesn't move- the lights are changing, someone is standing on a ladder with filters red-yellow-green-red-yellow, which The Renegade sees as dancing shadows and the announcement is made again- Okay, really this time, please go to your positions, we are going to start and now The Renegade stretches once and does a crunch up with his abs, turns to face front and notices there was someone sitting beside him, a chair away, for who knows how long now. She is adjusting her costume and smiles at him, says “Shall we?” and they both get up and walk to the side of the room with that door. The Renegade blinks, thinking where-did-she-come-from, (she is certainly not Savannah-brand) but no matter, it is all still flowing just fine, the people moving around this room, and it's time to start soon now so he asks her, “Are you ready?”

The show is over and the girl (who is Daisy) and The Renegade are packing up with everyone else, congratulating one another and laughing and taking photos. They are outside all loading up a van with lights and props and costumes. The soccer mom who owns it is efficient at packing everything in, used to mess but not to this drippy sticky makeup and it shows when she paws at her sweat with the back of her hand and catches herself, smearing (but she just laughs and someone takes a picture). After lifting and hauling for a while himself, The Renegade is waiting at the ready by the trunk but another man hands him a cigarrette and says simply, “hold this” and The Renegade complies while the man turns around and heads inside for a moment (through that same door that was letting the impending-spring in before, that is now letting out show-exhaust the other way). He stands and takes a drag, then Daisy comes up and takes a drag too, and the man comes back carrying a heavy trunk with another man and the cigarrette is kicked so The Renegade just puts it out with the heel of his boot (yeah, that was right, putting him in boots).

“R, come get a drink with us”, not “Will you get a drink with us?” but The Renegade wouldn't have said no anyway. He grabs his backpack, waves to the straglers left in the gym, and ambles up the sidewalk keeping three paces behind the rest of the group but a step ahead in their conversation. He is liked for obvious reasons and respected for ones less apparent. Daisy is hanging on to his arm and he lets her stay there, steers her away from parking meters and doesn't change a thing when she jumps ahead with her other friends before they arrive. He orders beer at the bar because he already had a whisky sour for lunch, but he does not refuse one of the tequila shots that appear after the first round.

The Renegade is sociable and good natured and when the crowd eventually splits, Daisy watches him walk away moving from pool of streetlamp to pool of streetlamp and she smiles to herself while she gets in the car. On the way home, The Renegade stops where the sidewalk is most quiet and looks up at the sky, the stars, the moonbeam rafters constructing the night and he feels a unique sort of bliss, a kindred-ness with the invisible people all around him, and a particular satisfaction.