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She smiled at me archly, wisely, as she usually does. УBut weТre not wandering through ghost towns here, anymore, hon,Ф she said. УWeТre telling ghost stories. And after weТve told them all weТll collect them all and walk out to the end of that pier and just expel them from our viscera into the midnight high tide,Ф she finished, smiling widely and excitedly making a motion with her hands and arms that began at her abdomen and concluded in an expansive, outward shoving action. I smiled wryly. Threw my discount marlboro cigarettes onto the ground and stepped on it. Secretly wondered if I was strong enough and confident enough to do that, as I knew she was. I thought about her words as I strutted past HulaТs, waving up to the boys and men who sent catcalls down at me from above; as I passed a karaoke bar on Kalakaua Avenue that Gavin and I once patronized; as I remembered a similar strut up the avenue two Halloweens ago with Bartholomew, all fuchsia wig and six-inch Patricia Field stilettos, made up as Gwen Stefani After A Bad Break-Up.
