The edges were worn and the colors were faded with yellow age but the thirty year old girl was bewildering. Bewildering because she sat up in a hospital bed shooting up to the sky and smiling at the camera as if God had changed his mind. This was Mr. Anderson’s daughter and even riddled with AIDS and numerous infections, she had a vitality to be jealous of. I held the photo tightly to make sure he couldn’t easily remove it from my hand. “When was this taken?”

He sipped his coffee, glanced around Mocha Daze, and grinned proudly like an animal, “Two weeks before she died. Some woman huh? And that’s not just a pose either you know. She really lived like that until she died, always smiling, always sort of crazy with life as if an uncontrolled energy was let go within her.” He waved his hand across his face, “Oh, it’s hard to explain.”

“No, I get it. You must miss her.”

He gently removed her from my hand, “Oh, she didn’t go anywhere. She’s with me all the time.” He slid the photo back in his wallet. “Sometimes I see somebody that she would have loved. In a strange way, I think that about you. Now don’t get antsy on me, I just think the two of you could have been good friends.”

“I’m not antsy, I’ll take that as a compliment. It’s funny, as I looked at that photo, it gave me a feeling that should be in everybody I suppose, but I’d like to find that in a woman. I really would.”

“Her mother had it, God rest her soul. I’ve lost my two babies Michael but neither of them, even in death, will let me for one-second feel bad or sorry for myself. Damn women.” He started laughing and I grunted
along with him. He was a lucky man. “Anyway, enough of me. I approached the department head and we both agreed that we can’t give you a full three credits for the work at Greystone, but we’ll give one for your time there and another for a twenty page paper that garners a C or better, preferably an A.”

“Twenty pages, no problem. I’ve got ten times that in my journal entries already.”

“Well, for the paper you’ll have to focus on a subject which I suggest split personality disorder since that’s what Steve’s diagnosis is and that’s what you’ll be around most of the time. And a very interesting subject at that.”

“I don’t know how to thank you Mr. Anderson. You’ve been so kind and I’m not quite sure why you’ve been so supportive.”

“I’m a teacher, that’s what I do.” He stood. “You’ve got a lot more classes to take and that’s what you do.”

I shook my head, “I know, I know.”

He left and I thought of the image of his daughter. I forgot to ask her name, but it didn’t matter because I knew I would never forget her face. I was lonely, a realization that now occurred because I was more focused.

I saw a LA paper on a chair next to me. No, should I? I couldn’t. I picked the paper up and thumbed my way to the back pages. PERSONALS. Men seeking Men, Women seeking Women, Women seeking Men, then finally...Men seeking Women. Guess that shows you the hierarchy in Los Angeles. Oh well, I have no pride and I spread the paper over my table and drank coffee as I read about the kind of men women were looking for.