Page 84 - Reason To Sing by Kelita Haverland

Reason To Sing

a Beatles’ haircut. I think he wanted to look just like John
Lennon.
The music is getting louder as Vian and I reach the bottom
steps. It’s Pink Floyd. I can tell because I recognize the sound
of the cash register. It’s not my favourite kind of music; I’d
rather listen to the Carpenters or Bread or America. As I part
the seam to the curtained off area, and then walk through yet
another curtain, long strings of dark brown wooden beads
swish and jangle. I sense we are stepping into another world.
We enter Jimmy’s hideaway where the first thing I see is
a large circle and star painted on the floor. There is a black
velvet-cloaked alter in the corner and on it, silver goblets, a few
small swords and some candles. I don’t understand what it’s all
for but I have heard whispers about “meetings” Jimmy has. It’s
called a cult and they all sit around naked.
I don’t really know exactly what a cult is but I think it must
be bad. He does try to explain his out-of-body experiences to
me and he’s even tried to hypnotize me before. I don’t think
it really worked though. Jimmy does love to talk about this
weird stuff with me and I’m glad he does. I will admit some of
it makes me feel a little uncomfortable. But another part of me
kind of wants to know more.
Jimmy is reclining in his old, comfy burgundy chair. This
chair has big, well-worn arm rests. Jimmy’s feet are resting
casually on the matching foot stool. On the small wooden
table beside him, there is an ashtray full of cigarette butts and
a lighter. The tall lava lamp adds an eerie glow to Jimmy’s face.
The lime green blobs float languidly through the aquamarine
water. I love lava lamps. They’re so cool.
“Come on in, girls. How ya doing? Find a seat.” Jimmy
takes a long haul off his cigarette, blowing smoke rings as he
exhales. “What do you think of my new posters?”

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