The Lost Tiki Palaces of Detroit

Dyskinesia

18 james Topper had been doing a lot of traveling. He wasn’t sure why he was traveling, but he was definitely eating well: fiery gumbo in New Orleans ; dry-rubbed ribs in Memphis; Evansville, Indiana’s squirrelly hot burgoo; cocoa-spiked Cincinnati five-way chili; as well as Buffalo’s majestic chicken wing. Yet no matter how good the food was, he couldn’t seem to stay in one place. He had lived in each place only about three or four months. The neighborhoods he stayed in, as well as the jobs he worked, got progressively worse with each town. At the time, it seemed imperative that he just keep moving. James had left his wife back in Detroit and had heard that she was looking for him. Not to kill him, or even to hurt him, though sometimes he told people that because it sounded a lot more interesting. Actually, Tisha just wouldn’t accept the fact that he didn’t want to live with her anymore. It had finally, truly ended in Toledo, a town good for that sort of thing (and Hungarian hot dogs). James had been staying at a friend’s place and she had caught up with him there. He was going out to get beer when she walked up to his car. He looked at her and sighed. dyskinesia 19 Dyskinesia “Get in,” he said. They drove to the Kroger. Standing in the check-out line with Tisha and two twelve packs of Miller High Life, James saw a woman’s magazine and right there on the cover next to a famous blond TV star was a big headline: CODEPENDENCY— WOMEN WHO CAN’T STOP LOVING. James picked up the magazine, handed it to Tisha, and said, “That’s you.” She bought the magazine with her own money and they both went back to his friend’s house. After James’ fifth beer, Tisha pulled her nose from the magazine, looked at her husband, the huddle of beer cans next to his chair, and said, “You’re right. It is me.”Then she stood up, opened the front door and left without another word. Five weeks later, there were divorce papers waiting for James at his parents’ house just outside of Detroit. By that time, James was back in Michigan, up in Traverse City, staying with a cousin, wondering what he was going to do next. From all the moving, his car had taken on the look of one of those Salvation Army bins in strip mall parking lots. It was such a mess that he could barely see out the back window. He was broke, sick of working odd jobs, and had run out of people to mooch from. Besides that, the only local delicacy in Traverse City was fudge, which he hated. There was no place else to go but home, except there was no home to go to. For once, it seemed like a good idea to stand still. At least long enough to sign the divorce papers. Not long after James moved back home with his parents, he met Madge. He was in the hot sauce section at the local market late one night, when he saw an older woman, around sixty or so, with long gray hair, braided, and wrapped around her head. She was trembling horribly, trying to reach for a bottle of Melinda’s XXXtra Hot Habanero Pepper Sauce. One arm was held close to her body, her hand trembling in a way that looked almost exaggerated . Her head was cocked, as if continually nodding yes. James thought that 20 The Lost Tiki Palaces of Detroit if she got close enough to the bottles there would be a major accident—hot sauce everywhere, extremely hot hot sauce. “Can I give you a hand with that, Ma’am?” he said gently. The woman turned at him like a cornered badger. “No, you most certainly may not,” she said in a low voice, almost a hiss.“I am not helpless. I can get a bottle off a shelf by myself, thank you.” “Sheesh. I’m sorry,” said James. He grabbed a bottle of Caribbean O-SOHot Sauce and was about to clear out when he felt the corner of a shopping cart poke him in the back. He turned around to find the woman standing there, still shaking, but attempting to smile. “Young man? I’m sorry...