Chapter 11 – Night Moves

Early February of ‘75, what was our love and our world were again seemingly calm and mellow. Not that it all hadn’t been before, but we didn’t discuss drugs because I didn’t see or hear of Jenny using them (except some occasional grass). It didn’t seem like I needed to pursue it deeper. As we continued to share more time with one another, I turned some of my contacts from work into friendships. A cat named Keith would come about once a week to pick up records and try to get me to give him free posters. Like all friendships, basically, we started talking first, then he invited me up to a pool hall on Friday night. I said sure. Jenny was working anyway.

Keith was a nice guy, with a shaggy Eric Burden style haircut and always wore a jacket regardless of the time of year. But being the month it was, the lamb’s wool jacket was appropriate. Keith also smoked cigarillos. He said it was his “method of concentration.” Smoking was his nervous habit, something he could whittle away at while in conversation or taking a shot from behind the cue. These weren’t regular cigarettes, but more like mini cigars. He described that, “They last a lot longer than your average, cheap tobacco. Really pays off, you know. I don’t have to always light up every few minutes.”

While we played stick, he wore this Paul Newman/Steve McQueen coolness. Maybe I had seen The Hustler too many times, but the confidence level was definitely there. His skills were fairly good, better than mine, but he’d spent as many hours in here as pilots do in the air. People make these places their home. Given time and opportunity, I could almost do so myself. Before my shot on the 9 ball, for win, he handed me one of his smokes, “Notice how I move the flame all around the end.” It was stronger than Pall Mall or Camel, that was for sure. Mmm…it tasted good. One thing though, it needed a beer.

Jenny was able to bring me around her brood, but mine hung out in joints like Keith’s. Bars, pool halls, and roughneck dives were no place to drag her into. However, Jenny’s daring nature pushed the matter and going to play pool seemed entertaining. She was either going to enjoy herself by having a good time or getting her rocks off from the danger factor.

            The test was taking her to the 9 ball team tournament Keith invited me to be his partner in. I slid quickly into one pitcher of beer, picked up my game, and made it half way through the brackets. Jenny just ate it up, yelling “yeah, baby!” every shot I got. She knocked back a few glasses of wine as I demolished the second pitcher.

            And though we only won one more set, just short of the semi-finals, it was a great run. Jenny was so happy for me, perhaps too happy. A wild look came over her eyes, she snatched me up, and gave me a wild evening back at Diane’s.

Those first nights at the Holiday Inn were reborn in a matured, drunken haze. Jenny’s cool, soft and creamy skin pressed against my warm, muscular frame is the most beautiful feeling to me. My hand would start from the back of her head, down her hair and back, and cup her behind. Her hair draped over my shoulders, her scented oils so delicious, and those green eyes fixed on me…only me. We make love until we fall asleep in each other’s arms at whatever time that didn’t matter.

            However, as I tried to sleep off the booze, Jenny wakes me at 5AM. As I shake the thick taste of festering booze from my mouth, she somberly asks, “Eric, have you ever come close to death?”

            “What?” One, I didn’t think she said what she did; two, why are you asking me this?

            “Have you ever come close to death? Have you almost died before?”

            “No. Why?” Still confused.

            “I just had a dream. In it, I was lying in a hospital bed. And I knew when I saw myself there, that I was dead. I was completely covered in blood.”

            “Honey, you have weird dreams all the time.” Yes, the dream was odd, but…

            “Fucker. Why do I bother telling you anything?” Jenny violently rolled back the other way, pulling the sheets over her and taking some of mine in the process.

            Feeling a little bad, “Do you think that dream will come true?”

            She took a long 30 seconds to answer, “Yes.”

            “Why?”

            A long exhale. “Because one night…fuck. One night, I thought I was dying. I bought some pills from a guy named Keno. He’s the P.R. guy I was talking about weeks back. Well, it made me really sick. Somehow Sissy found me and took me to Jerry’s. She told me my face was pale white and I was sweating huge beads. Supposedly I was conscious and awake, but I don’t remember a fucking thing. I was gasping almost for breath. They couldn’t snap me out of it. I think Sissy told me she covered my chest with ice and finally it settled.”

            “What the hell? When did this happen?” I did that thing where you roll your eyes looking for an answer, “Wait! Was that the night…”

            “The night you got mad at me because I was at Jerry’s all night. The night you thought I was sleeping with him. The night you fucking yelled at me!” Then she began to cry.

            “I’m sorry. You never told me all that happened. And why in the hell didn’t you?”

            Long sniff of mucus, “Because I know deep down you’re disappointed in me. I ruined your life by dragging you out here. You had a great life and lots of ahead of you. I had nothing. I know what I do, my way of coping bothers you.”

            “So stop doing it!”

            “It’s not that easy. I feel like I need it now. It helps me escape. It helps me escape all the terrible shit we left behind.”  

            “I thought you had stopped. I also thought coming here with me was the escape. Is doing drugs an escape from me then?”

            Jenny began to cry again, “No, that’s not fucking it!” She continued to cry “NO” as she lowered her sobbing tears onto my shoulder.

            For the next few days, Jenny and I hung out together like it was old times, like a summer vacation. After months of quietly slowly pulling apart, this long weekend mended much back to its state of origin. Things were back to just me and her – no one else. And for once, I wasn’t worried about her one bit – which also meant I wasn’t drinking (as much).

“Call on me, Jenny, and I’ll come to you.”

The following week, we broke our short lived rule and decided to reintroduce ourselves to the outside world. Our camping friends were going to be moving back to the East soon. Jenny didn’t want to miss an opportunity to say goodbye and called Kathy to get their address, which we had lost twice already.

On Pier Ave, and not knowing which place was Kathy and Rick’s, I parked somewhere in the alley and tracked it down on foot. Matching the numbers to what I had on paper, Jenny and I climbed the stairs that jutted up the side of the apartment-like building; her bell bottom jeans swooshing behind me.

“I hope we got the right place,” knocking my knuckles on the strange door.

Being used to doors always being unlocked at Jerry’s and Diane’s, I almost didn’t recognize the sounds of a deadbolt and slide chain from the other side, which I probably last heard at the Holiday Inn. The door swung back fast, but was caught right before it hit the interior wall. Our greeter, only in a pair of white shorts and a sweater of blondish hair on his chest, glanced us both up and down, then made intense eye contact with me.

“Yeah,” his voice spoke quickly.

Crap. Did we have the right place? Staring him back, looking at his curly, Chris Hillman/afro-like hair and beard, “We’re here to see Kathy and Rick.”

Lowering his head, “Oh.” He stepped aside, allowing us entry, and secured the door back to his paranoid liking. Hearing him do it, I looked over at Jenny, who had a slight concerned look on her face.

Stepping into the living room, my head rolled around, my eyes in tow, not only noticing the stereo, wall art, blue and green Tiffany lamps, and posters, but also looking for the couple we came to see. “So…where are they?”

“Who?”

I don’t want to play this game with you, man.

“Kathy and Rick.”

“Oh. They’re not here right now.” His voice had a slight hint that he was bothered by our company.

Jenny, still quiet, gave me that look again, then asked the guy, “You know when they’re getting back?”

“Hmmm…they just ran out, I think.”

I motioned Jenny toward the sectional, “What’s your name?”

“Fred.”

To eliminate the uneasy moment of us all just standing there, “Fred, do you mind if we take a seat?”

“No.” He didn’t ask for our names. In fact, he didn’t say anything else. He picked up a word search and pencil, sat in the kitchen, and starting writing in it. Not circling words, but seemingly writing a novel between the printed letters.

Without wanting to ask, Jenny picked up the beers we brought and put them in the fridge. Walking back, the worried look came off Jenny’s face and I almost thought she was going to laugh. Why the hell would you think this is funny? Though my stare asked that question, she wouldn’t say it out loud.

At my side, still covering her mouth, her eyes watered up and her face got flush.

Annoyed, “What!”

“Did you see his shorts?”

            “Sort of, why?”

            “He has a brown stain on the back of them.”

Like a non-believing little kid, “Nah uh…”

“Yep. Right between the cheeks.”

We laughed without notice. Fred seemed too wrapped up in his masterpiece. Then something on the shelf above the television caught Jenny’s eye. Bringing it over to me, she shows me a small, porcelain fishing boat.

“This must be Rick’s.”

            “How do you know?”

            “Kathy told me he likes to fish and go sailing.”

            “He seems more like a surfer than a seaman.”

            Fred spoke up from the kitchen, “He surfs, too!”

            Wow. So he was listening.

            The deadbolt turns and the front door opens as far as the chain will allow. Rick’s voice is on the other side, “Damn it, Fred. Why do you chain the door all the time?”

“I already told you.”

“Are you going to undo the chain or what, man?”

Fred slowly and methodically put down his pencil and book, unlatched the chain, and didn’t even open the door. He just walked back into the kitchen, grabbed his stuff, and went into another room down a hallway.

As he left, Rick and Kathy took their sandals off at the door and entered the abode. We were greeted with hugs and handshakes. Jenny helped Kathy bring in the groceries from the Alta Dena down the road. As they put everything in the fridge, Rick noticed the boat sitting on the coffee table.

“That little keepsake reminds me of home, back in Jersey.” He looked at it fondly, then placed it back on the bureau. Kathy asked us if sandwiches were okay for lunch. Everyone agreed. When we had our food, wine, beer, water, and chips, we all lounged on the sectional. The guys took the far ends, the girls in the middle.

Jenny initiated conversation, but had too much food in her mouth. She held up her finger until it was polite to start. “So Rick, how long have you been in L.A.?”

        “Oh, since ‘65.”

        “Wow, I didn’t know it had been that long.”

“Oh yeah, I moved out here right out of high school. Pretty much, I fell in love with the place.”

“Do you miss Jersey?”

“Some days, I really do. Obviously, the weather here is great. Maybe when and if I get too sentimental over ol’ Jersey, I’ll go back. You know?” (In a few months, he and Kathy did.)

“Actually, I do. I bet there’s been a lot of changes out here since ’65?”

“Hmm…yes and hmm…no. In ’67 and ‘68, things were really hip and everyone was having a good time. Being free was where it was at and everyone was so…innocent, I guess you could say. Times change, man. What are you gonna do about it? We gotta live for today and not look back at yesterday. Ya dig?”

“I think so. Say, what’s up with Fred?”

“Don’t mind him. He’s cool. It’s just since he got back from ‘Nam, everything’s been different for the poor fellow.” My concerns about Fred turned to sympathy. So what was worse: dying in the jungle or dying inside? I didn’t know. I put the last of my cigarillo out in a mound of other dead butts. I had opened my third beer and caught a slight buzz. While I had been daydreaming about Sam, Kathy came back with a bottle of wine. Rick had lit up a joint, passing it around in the same cycle (minus me) as in the valley.

I continued drinking, they kept smoking. Time and alcohol has lost the contents of that energy-filled conversation, but I clearly remember how all of us together made Jenny so happy. This couple was safe, people she could trust, and more portals of information. Arm in arm with Kathy, Jenny asked them the particulars of the late 60’s, deeply intrigued by the experiences had by people slightly older than us. Probably, she saw Kathy and Rick as us if we had the opportunity they did by getting here at the right time.

Rick pulled out a pack of cards, “Wanna play Hearts?” The girls didn’t know how to play, so we divided into teams (even though it’s meant to be a four player game). I got Kathy, Rick got Jenny. In our inebriated state, we struggled through the laughter to teach the rules, so we wound up just dealing cards and talked more than played. Bottles two and three of wine eventually were poured. I didn’t realize I was on my last beer until there were none left. Another roach went around the room and even I got a contact high.

After the fuzziness, I awoke in the darkened version of their apartment. I felt Jenny beside me, looked around, and could barely see anything. My only guidance was some light coming off a street lamp half a block away. Kathy and Rick were not on the couch and I didn’t want to go creeping through the unknown to find them. Jenny and I gathered our stuff and opened the front door. There was enough light to make visible a note left on the linoleum at the entryway. In a female’s handwriting it read: “Take some cheesecake.” And in the fridge was a fourth wrapped in tin foil.

Walking down the stairs, Jenny joked, “You think it’s okay leaving Fort Knox unsecured like this?” I smiled as she continued.

“Kathy discovers magic and enjoyment within a sunrise and sunset, a full moon, or a glimpse of a shooting star. She has more of that hippie sense and experience I’m not sensitive enough for.  I’m not as overtaken or humbled by those same pleasures unless I’m sharing them with Eric. To me, the real magic is having him with me on the beach or staring at the moon through our window.

Emphatically, Kathy would like me to be a more spiritual person. She tells me I should open my heart and soul to the beauty of life. I should be aware and listen to what’s around me. And most importantly, I should listen to my heart. Not that it’s bad advice, but when did I ever tell her what to do? Ha ha! I don’t always want the lecture.

I know where Kathy’s coming from. She cares for her friends and her boyfriend. She and Rick plan to marry someday. Maybe they’ll do it here. If so I’ll have no clue as to what I’d wear. Hell, I don’t even think Eric has any dress clothes. The only suit he owns is at his parents’.

Eric needs new clothes but hates shopping, where as I like strolling through the thrift stores and boutiques. I hardly ever purchase anything, I just like to look and make up stories of the people who I think wore those clothes. I have to say, the last time I was there, I saw a long dress very similar to Mom’s. It would have been her size, her color of yellow. The front had a grease stain on it, probably from cooking for her family. I wanted to pick up the dress and hug it. Seeing its dapper decor made me miss her so much. In my battle of tears, I walked right out of the store, still holding a porcelain figurine of a little girl I considered buying. It now discreetly sits on Diane’s book shelf. She’s never mentioned it being there.”

The doll and her long brown pigtails, overalls, and flower basket got a friend when Jenny found a dark haired boy to accompany her.

“You may dream

Azure and sunshine

Prairies and homeland

Where you wish to live

Married and a child

You may dream

Picnics in the meadow

On a blanket with a woman

Soft breeze from the south

Playing hopscotch in her hair

You may dream

Call out to the Gods

Wish sacred moments at night

And when you dream

Dream of me

------

You desire a woman’s friendship and love

& (of course)

Her soft naked skin

Long silken hair, vibrantly styled

Seductive eyes to lure you in

Curves to eye then grab hold of firmly

A sensuous voice to whisper in your ear

Lips to kiss you all over

Definitely the delicious sweetness of her loins

Enter her with a fury of passion, deep and strong

And you bellow:

Yes, I do want you, I want you bad and no other!”