I had message for Denis last night, “Ilsa, it’s Denis. I am cooking. Will you call me back? Please, if you have a few moments.”

I rang him up and got a strange voice mail. I realized I was either calling his home phone for the first time, or I had dialed wrong because it was a young girl’s voice. I hung up and tried again, this time listening through the entire message… “to leave a message for Dr. Denis -..” Yeah, Denis is a doctor. I’m not surprised and I bet you’re not either. “Denis, it’s Elsa. You’re cooking, call me back when you’re not.”

Briiiiiinnnng! Brriiinmnng!

“Ilsa, this is Denis. How is your day today? Is it better? And how is your daughter?”

“Better and better, thank God. Today went okay, I made to the gym,” I said.

“Got a good workout? That always helps.” Denis loves the gym as much as I do.

“Yeah, and I just sort of laid low and regrouped. I feel better. I’m starting to recharge and tomorrow it’s supposed to be nice so I’m going to break out my scooter.”

“You have a scooter?

“You haven’t seen my scooter? The scooter parked in front of the gym.”

“No, Ilsa.”

“Oh! Well you can look forward to when you do. The thing is slick. It’s like… it’s the best scooter in this city, that’s for sure. And the only one like it. You’ll have to see it.”

He goes on to tell me his first car was a motorcycle, as was mine. I am sure his reason was the same as mine. We were (poor) Capricorns and it was all we could afford. “I rode that motorcycle for 3 years,” he said. “Best years of my life.”

“Well you will like this little scooter, Denis. You can ride it if you want.”

“Okay.”

“Okay! As soon as I see you with it, you can just… take off and go where ever you want. If the boy is with you, I’ll watch him. I’ll stay with him so you can ride.”

“Okay. That sound good.”

“But wait!” It occurred to me Denis had invited me to his house not one, not two but three times this last week and I turned him down every time due my daughter and the circumstances. Understandable, but still that’s a lot of rejection for a Capricorn. I realized I could and probably should invite myself to his house to spare him having to extend himself a fourth time. “Say! How about I just come over on it, tomorrow? Okay? Will you be around? Then we can visit and you can ride. I’ll watch the boy.”

The boy is a 23 year old autistic man who Denis cares for. He can’t talk and he has to be watched, especially when grocery shopping because he likes to open cans of Pepsi that have not been paid for, and drink them.

“Okay, Ilsa. That sounds good. You’ll have to come over in the afternoon though. In the morning I take this boy to church.”

“All right then. You call me when you get home and I’ll come over. Then you can go for a ride on my fine machine and when you wind up wanting one, I don’t want to hear any complaints…”

What do you do for fun?