A surprisingly cool June Friday in 1973 was my last day of
senior high school. There wasn’t much to think about, but I let the whole event
rabidly preoccupy my thoughts. After all, I hit a transition and just as I got
over one hurdle, the endless supply that life lines up would shortly follow.
Almost every seventeen and eighteen year old goes through that dramatic crap of
graduating, leaving home, and sheepishly going to a paid institution and now
how scripted it was that I was next in line.
None of this happened in some big blast. In fact, those past
few months were like a wind-down period. The football season seemed too distant
ago, there were only a few tests to take at the end, and people got busy making
their plans for college. Not wanting to differentiate themselves from the rest
of their social circle, my parents had made sure their boy was going to a four
year program, too. Though my sports scholarship didn’t come through, which I
didn’t think it would, I was certain I’d get one for academics.
Also, my fear of the draft was dissipating. Going into
college, my friends and I had little worries. But I couldn’t help worrying
anyway because my older brother Sam got his draft notice in the spring of 1967
and was KIA within seven months of service. Mom and Dad had lost their first
son. With there being about six years between us, he and I rarely saw eye to
eye (and not because he was taller). He was rough and tough, definitely the
army material. I was always held to the standard Sam created in their minds. After
he died, I knew I wouldn’t make a suitable replacement but I gave it my best,
guns figuratively blazing.
On that same June Friday morning, there was an alternate
reality for Jenny. As she recalled to me once, a harsh, sudden buzz rang from
her alarm clock. Rotating numbers and electronic crying awoke her from a night
of repeating dreams about the way her life should be. It was a couple minutes
after 6 AM before she slipped out from her shroud so snug and cozy and into the
cold morning room. Bare toes cracked and crept around blindly between dark
spaces. Light was barely visible and the sun too was awaking with Jenny. She
shivered, grabbing to her oversized shirt that doubled as pajamas. It was a
man's Medium (mine actually) that would fit a normal built guy but hung low and
loose on her small frame.
Quickly she got ready for another dreaded, yet final, day at
"Losers' High School” as she coined it. I felt the majority of that
student body was not qualified to be a friend of Jenny's. And every day was a
drag and endlessly boring: nauseating hours and even more disgusting food
served at the rank cafeteria. For her, school was never a real challenge and
did very little to keep her conscious.
From down the road Jenny awaited the ugly school bus, the
cheese wagon that was entombed in daunt, yellow paint and mud stained sides.
Its inside smelled of old plastic and un-bathed children that were kept fifty
miles from any shower or bath their whole lives. School was no better. The same
kids on the bus filter through each and every class until the feeling of filth
becomes unbearable. This day happened to be a very unpleasant one indeed, not
any agonizing seven hours Jenny would like to suffer on Friday. A few tests while
half of her friends were absent, skipping exams. Where would be the ones who
kept her company and brought light to her darkened world? By the end of the
day, her face became a red traffic light and her eyes tiger-like. It was over.
The yellow hearse of “LHS” took its final bumpy, afternoon
voyage and Jenny couldn’t say she was anymore happier to be home. She rushed
off the bus and entered the front door in a rage. Her mother took notice and
had seen her like this before but not as angry. She figured her Jennifer was
just acting like any typical eighteen year old. Instead of saying hi to her
mom, Jenny rushed down the hall and slammed her bedroom door behind her,
condemning the world.
This quiet abode was her dwelling/castle and no one but she
entered it, unless invited. The walls were covered like a mural in posters and
magazine cut-outs. Not one bare spot remained, especially the one which faced
the west as the sun fell asleep every day. They had a life to them that made
one feel spirits were watching. Each section of wall was more unique than its previous.
Dozens of Adonis-like rock stars were singing, dancing, or playing instruments
for her. Clips of poetry and art work fit in between each concert stage. Some
were original and others of great artists torn from stolen library books. Even
with the concerts growling, Jenny’s room seemed depressing. She was the sole
resident with no other life in its confines. This bedroom was an island
hundreds of desperate miles away from any civilized land mass. Alone was the
rule of each day, looking out from her lonely gloom. Her only companion was the
radio/record player but nothing was on except the same old repeat of songs.
Jenny’s silent moment was broken by her mother’s curiosity
from the door’s other side.
“I see Eric didn’t drive you home today.”
“No, he stuck around with the coaches after school.”
“You didn’t want to?”
“I’m home aren’t I? He’s picking me up in an hour though.”
That night, my friends, Jenny, and I celebrated our
graduation by hitting Anderson’s, a local diner-style restaurant that had been
around since I was born. All the guys and their girls downed sodas and chowed burgers
down their gullets the way bottomless stomached teens do. We put some dough in
old man Anderson’s register that evening. By 8:30, everyone parted ways and I
dropped Jenny off at her house, “I’ll see you in the morning, alright?” She did
her wink and bounced to the front door where I saw her disappear inside. I spent
the rest of the evening talking with my folks and then packing.
As much as I wanted to keep my trip a secret from my
parents, I’m not the type of person that would lie to them. Saturday morning
was to be departure day in my ‘69 Camaro, setting off for a little excursion
into an unknown story. I had never done anything quite like this, especially
not alone with Jenny. We took our outings as far as outside of town, but not as
long as the planned week or two coming up. I can’t say my parents were thrilled
at the notion of their remaining son and some girl off together and alone. I
wasn’t ready to entertain my mom’s concerns when she continually mentioned a
“baby.” That word and her tone made me shudder. Nonetheless, they gave me some
money for the trip instead of buying a graduation present.
About 9:45 that night, the phone rang. Not expecting a call,
I didn’t answer it. My mom yelled out, “Eric? Phone call!” I’m sure a puzzled,
raised eyebrow look came over my face and I answered in a what-do-you-want
voice, “Yeah?”
It was Jenny in a low tone, “Can you come pick me up?”
“Yeah, tomorrow.”
“No, now!”
“Now?” Insane.
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
“I need you to.”
“No you don’t. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“I can’t stay here.”
I was getting frustrated, “What is wrong then?”
Sigh, “Can we talk about it after you get me?”
“This is dumb.” There was a long pause as stalemate ensued.
“Please.”
“I’ll come get you, but not now. My parents are heading to
bed and they’ll hear me leave.”
“Fine, I’ll look for you whenever you show up.”
Just before midnight, I snuck outside, rolled the car into
neutral, out of the driveway, and down the street a little before cranking it
up and closing the heavy steel door. This tactic had worked before. As I got to
Jenny’s, I killed the headlights. Unfortunately, the V6’s idle and exhaust was
noticeably loud in the silence of the evening. Jenny and her entourage of
belongings fell out of her bedroom window. She turned to close it, and wobbled
over as fast as she could like an old lady with 10 bags of groceries trying to
make the bus. When she got to the passenger door, she slid the bucket seat
forward and fumbled her mulch-covered stuff onto my backseat.
“What the…”
“I’m sorry Eric, I couldn’t hang around any longer.” Her
words were a little out of step as she tried to catch her breath.
I looked at her and my cluttered backseat, “What’s going
on?”
“Let’s just go please. I don’t want to stick around.”
“Go where? It’s the middle of the night. Nothing is open.”
“Back to your house, silly.”
As my eyes flared into fiery fury, “What? Are you nuts? I
can’t take you to my home at midnight.”
Almost honestly she asked, “Why?”
I had an aside, staring out my window, “I can’t believe
this.” I drove back to my house in the same stealthy way I shouldn’t have been
doing. All of her belongings stayed in the car. It was hard enough sneaking her
into the house, let alone this ensemble of travel gear. How my parents didn’t
catch us, I don’t know. Out of some cheap horror flick or episode of Scooby Doo, I think she and I hit every
squeaky board and furniture piece in the house on the way upstairs. But before
heading up to my room, I grabbed a beer from my dad’s ice box in the garage.
Rarely did I sneak a drink from him, but if there was a reason for Jenny to
slip out that evening, I might need the beer.
Once inside my room, she sat down on the bed after a search
for a place to sit. Her feet enclosed my school bag, locking it firm against
the bed and floor, while twisting bed sheets in her fists. The whole day, her
whole life replayed in her mind like an annoying TV ad. Trying to hide her
tears, she looked straight down onto the bag, taking a sip from my beer. Her
strong nature gave into a weaker half. I wrapped my arms around her as she
cried, which she fell back onto the sheets, and was soon asleep. Before I
nodded off, I set my alarm a little earlier than I wanted to so we could repeat
the sneaky journey out of the house before my folks woke up.
In a few quick hours, my eyes opened to see that it was 5:53
and my light was still on. For a moment, I gathered my thoughts, tasted the
stale beer on my tongue, and digested what happened the prior evening. Before I
could stop my alarm, it went off. Despite her small frame, I couldn’t slide out
from under Jenny fast enough to disable it. “Crap,” muttered from my mouth as I
hoped not to wake up my parents. Jenny took a look around, realizing it was not
her room – there were no idols on my wall to address her mood or play host.
“Eric, what are you doing? What time is it?”
“We’re getting out of here. My parents won’t wake up until
6:30 so we have only 30 minutes to get ready and leave.”
“Alright!” Her eyes wandered the landscape, “This is real
isn’t it?”
“Damn right. I got my stuff, I just need to use the
bathroom.”
Jenny stretched and let out a long yawn, “Me too. Any place
in mind we can go and travel to?”
It was easy to notice the funny smell my room had in the
mornings, a smell like no one has ever been in there before. The faceless odor
was heightened by the unusually cool temperature for this summer. “I’m not
sure. I heard ‘West is the best.’ I guess west it is.” With an arm half-asleep,
I shuffled into the bathroom while she got dressed on my bed. After relieving
myself, I grabbed a toothbrush, toothpaste, deodorant, and razor. I probably only
shaved two or three times a week but I figured I’d be gone longer than two
shaves. The thought of never returning selfishly snuck into my mind. Leaving a
loving family is hard to do. I loved Jenny more than I loved my parents. I
loved her more than anything in the world. She depended on me to rescue her
from a sinking boat.
Walking out the bathroom, I noticed my accomplice was no
longer in the room. “Oh shit, where is she? What if she wakes up Mom or Dad?” I
quickly went downstairs and whispered her name until I heard a reply from the
kitchen. “What are you doing in here?”
“I’m hungry. Last thing I ate was my mom’s slop casserole.”
She reached over, “I made sandwiches, want one?”
“Sure,” taking the offer. The sandwich was made of cheese,
ham, and a large quantity of mayo. “We need to get going. Stay here and I’ll
get our things.”
She continued eating, dropping a few crumbs on the floor,
while I in the same fashion went back to my room. I scooped up the bags of
equal weight and reentered the kitchen. Two remaining bites of my sandwich were
taken. Concerns of my parents wondering where I was troubled my mind. A good
lie could replace the truth.
“What are you doing?” asked Jenny seeing me dig through my
bag.
“Got a pen?” tearing out a piece of notebook paper.
“A pen, sure. What for?”
“I’m writing my folks a note, you know, so they don’t
worry.”
“What!? Let me guess--Dear Mom and Dad, Jenny and I are on
the run because she is a psycho. Just letting you know why I’m not home.”
“No,” smelling her sarcasm.
Dear Mom and Dad,
Jenny and I left early to get a start on things. Didn’t want
to wake you this morning. I’ll give you a ring in a few days.
Love,
Eric
“Here, read the note.” She scanned the note with the most
legible of any male’s handwriting.
“Ooh, “Love, Eric”, how sweet. You sign the letter to them
as you do for me, without the heart of course.”
“Ha ha, I can always put the heart over the “I” if it makes
you feel better. Now let’s boogie.
“…before they awake from their crypts.”
On the kitchen counter near the sink rested the note. Jenny
inhaled her second sandwich and put the bread, ham, cheese, and mayo back in
the fridge. Most families store bread on the kitchen counter but this way helps
prevent mold. With bags in hand, we made our way outside. My father’s alarm
clock rang and the break of silence made me jump, almost dropping my bag. “Mom and Dad lay up their oblivious to
everything. I never said goodbye. God, I’m gonna miss them.” I don’t
know why that idea kept crossing my brain’s intersection.
“Eric, come on, before they catch us!”
I raced to my car, covered in a fine layer of dew like a
runner’s brow after the long triathlon. Once again, odd for a June morning. As
always, I unlocked the passenger side letting Jenny in first. She reached over
to her left unlocking my side. Similar to my room, the inside of the car had a
certain empty smell and cold feel. The loud start of the car caused a startle,
as had the alarm clock. Backing out onto the street, this departing, remaining
son took one final look at his house and family. I thought back to the last
time I hugged Mom, and even harder to remember, the last time I hugged Dad.
Those thoughts were cherished and quickly buried.
“I’m sorry about last night, Eric.”
Jenny’s apologies were not healing, the tires were peeling
as they screeched. She silenced as I continued to speed to the stop sign.
“Since you ate two sandwiches, I’m assuming you’re no longer
hungry.” She thought about it. “Because I still am, plus I’m getting coffee.”
“Well, I could go for coffee, too.”
Ten miles westward, there was a gas station with a built in
diner where we two wanderers could fill up our car and stomachs. Inside, the
smell of fresh food and coffee hit our faces. Shelly, as it read on her homemade
name badge, was cooking up some goodies for truckers that usually come in at
dawn. Our presence went unnoticed as she continued frying eggs, buttering
toast, and whistling with a mix of singing. Any little of the words she sang
was unrecognizable. We peered up at the menu board as our mouths watered from
the ever present aroma. Shelly flipped aside her hair and saw us out of the
corner of her eye.
“What can I do ya’ for?” I turned to Jenny but she
encouraged me to go first.
“Well...I’ll have the breakfast special and a cup of coffee,
uh, with cream…no sugar.”
“Ya’ want bacon or sausage?”
“Bacon, please,” turning to Jenny.
“Since you got something, I think I’ll have a powdered donut
and a coffee with cream also…no sugar.”
Wow, we like to eat.
“Okay hun, that’ll be $2.25.” I fumbled in my pockets for
the change ‘til Jenny made the save. “It’ll be ready in just a sec.”
Over at the blue benches, I took a seat as my runaway friend
browsed the gift shop. A small portion of the gift shop was dedicated to
humor/novelty items. Jenny came running back wearing gag glasses with dangling
eye balls.
“How do I look?”
“They suite you perfect.”
“These eyes sag like Shelly’s tits.”
She went back to looking as Shelly herself came with the
food.
“Here ya’ go sweety. Enjoy!” She started to walk back to the
kitchen when apparently she noticed we were alone. “Ya’ know, yer kinda cute for
a young fella.”
Jenny came in at the last of Shelly’s words, turning a
slight red and calmly told her, “Listen, your job is to serve food, not ass.
He’s got a woman and it’s me, so shove off you old cow!”
Shelly trotted off, returning to her song and ad-libbing an
obscenity here and there. Jenny seated as I leaned over the table to kiss her
on the forehead.
Laughing, “You’d think she’d do her whoring after
breakfast.”
Rolling her eyes, “Now I’ve got a reason for stealing these
gag glasses,” pulling them halfway from her jacket pocket as we both chuckled.
Ready to leave and forgetting what Shelly said, I gave her a
ten for gas. I pumped rolling numbers while Jenny went to the bathroom. By the
time she was supposed to have been done, yelling ensued and Jenny came
strutting out with a hearty grin filling her dimpled cheeks.
“I wasn’t going to let her get off that easy. By the way, I
lifted a few snacks for the road,” halfway pulling out beef jerky, candy bars,
gum, and of all things: a beer.
I scolded her, “You could have at least taken a good beer.”
“Hey, it’s free, right? And I got it so it’s mine anyhow.”
“We’ll see,” with a smirk.
Unguided miles lay ahead. I knew where my withholder was
ticklish. A few rakes under ribs or pelvic region sent Jenny into hysterical
laughter and cries of “no.”
Taking the beer, “Mine, not yours.”
Realizing her loss, “Yours?”
I reconsidered, “We’ll share,” handing it back.
“Asshole.” Laughter broke out between us.
“Where to? There’s four ways, pick one.”
“You’re driving, you pick one.”
“Okay, how about: still?”
“Ha, didn’t you say West before?”
“The West is the best.”
Behind the two of us, the rising sun somehow symbolized our
burdens. Driving away, a driving desire for freedom. The sun will catch up no
matter how fast one drives. It stared at me like a big brother through my
rearview, melting the dew. This child will part from family to live on his own.
This boy and girl, inseparable, together in a basket carried by inspiration
toward the horizon. Who knew our path, how long could this journey be, and what
would become of us?
Before advancing West, I turned to my right where one was
still proud of her beer, “No matter what happens, I’ll always love you and be
there when you need me.”
She forgot the beer and dropped a tear on its cold top. “I
love you too, Eric. You’re all...we’re all we have now.” I got a queer feeling
that we really were alone, on our own, on an atoll with no one else. We kissed,
me tasting her tear’s remnant and sped off repeating, “The West is the best.”
Heading onto the interstate, a car in the far left lane was
making driving difficult. The sun was reflecting off the back window and
leaving after-image spots all over my line of vision. Speeding up got out of
the glare. I looked at the car’s tag and saw a blue California plate, “That’s
it! California, we could go to California. The West is the best. It’s the
farthest West we can go. Where the sun sets on America. The end of the line for
settlers. The buildup of a dream. The West is the best. How about California?”
Giving it some thought and almost agreeing, “But isn’t
California a long drive?’
True, “It’s the farthest place from here, plus it’s crazy.”
With attention grabbed, “Well, we’re crazy! We’re
set.”
The monomyth began.
“The best I can do
Is say to you
In my own little way
Each and every day
“I love you”
I’ll remain your friend
To care and mend
And see you smile
All the while
This heart beats for you.”
Very Interesting Paul....
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