Chapter 22 – My Back Pages

 

Dearest Jenny,

Last week, I decided to visit the library down the street from me. For about two hours, I sat and read through their music and entertainment section. It's amazing how many books have been written on musicians from our time. I know you'd love to have read a lot of them. Danny Sugarman's book "Wonderland Avenue" is pretty good. I remember you told me you met him once when you were still waitressing tables. Unfortunately, he's gone now, too.

Hunger then kicked in after removing my brain from books. Not too far from the library is a small pizzeria, so I walked down there to pick up a slice. At first, no one was at the counter and just as I grew a little impatient, out came an amazing brunette…and I say that because she looked just like you. She was about 5’4”, maybe 110, eighteen or nineteen years old, long silken brown hair, and had such a radiant smile on her. After she took my order, she took the turn back into the kitchen and gave me the exact same smile you used to. My knees just buckled. Her voice was similar to yours, but not the same, and she had brown eyes, not green. But for the entire time I was there, I stared at her in sheer awe. There was little to convince myself that this girl wasn’t you and I wasn’t seeing a ghost. She could have been your daughter or little sister. Bewildered, I walked back to my car, got inside, and cried as the slice of pizza got too cold to eat.

Instead of cherishing such a coincidence, instead it hurt me so deeply. If only I had you beside me. What a relief it would be to hold you again, taste your kiss, touch your body, look into your eyes, or make love together. After all this time, all these years, I’m still wandering in a maze, lost by how much I miss you. So much in me disappeared in your absence. The one thing that truly made me happy has gone. I’ll never know the joys of our future or being reassured that the Christmas dream was to come true. Fate has steered me on an odd course and I’m reminded of the finality of death. My sorrows are not a dream which I know I can wake from.

In your short life, it was I who knew you best. It's bizarre that you have been gone longer than you lived in years. Since then, so much time has slowly inched forward. There is not a day that I don't reminisce over a memory of you, which causes me to miss you a little more than yesterday. All that which you didn’t get to experience, I spent it alone. Be thankful you didn't get old like me. It's really a mixed blessing. Back when we were young, I felt like I had an identity and there were endless roads to take in life. However when you get more than halfway through your drive, your first thought is of how long will it take to get to the final destination. As it is, I haven't got anything better to do than count mile markers and throttle it.

During the years we lived in L.A., you and I sought serenity and nirvana in the infested lands of the West. During those magical experiences we enjoyed love, freedom, and harmony just as the youth we idolized of the 60s had before us. But we did it in our own way in a new and rugged landscape. The world we created was the reality and the boundaries we set for four years. It shaped who I am now and who you became in the last years of your life.  You were a hippie girl who came too late to be with those you adored. Maybe on the other side they’ve dropped you a line.

Over thirty years have flown past me and forgot its kindness. Desperation, anxiety, and loneliness have yanked at my soul the entire time. Most people would have moved on and taken their losses. Perhaps I’ve been missing that emotional tool called acceptance because I’ve never let go nor forgot.

To take a phrase from one of your notebook…there is an effect from amputation called “phantom limb,” meaning the mind cannot possibly comprehend the limb is no longer there, and continues to falsely produce sensations to that body part. Nerves are severed, tendons and muscles lost at a nub – the brain doesn’t rewire itself to understand the loss. Perhaps it knows it needs it to survive. When I lost you, I lost a huge part of my life that my emotions couldn’t forgive. Life simply shattered, lost, and left for buzzards.

The mystery and uniqueness of our love is gone. Being without, after knowing what life is with that particular element, it’s not like going back to life before. Even for Mom and Dad and essentially Diane, who lost a son, they live a life which is no more than second best. Happiness will never again be 100% achieved. That is where I am as well: the point of no return.

“…there are no more nights I sleep alone. My tragedies have concluded. The play itself did seem like it took too many acts to reach its end. You know, it’s funny I use that reference and I never liked English class. But really, having Eric does so much for me. My words are not enough so that I can detail my true feelings.

…today, I feel pretty and like a woman! Eric bought me a green, flowered dress to accompany my ring.

…I know that Eric will hug me, kiss me, make love, and we’ll spend the day down by the beach. Those are our special rituals. Each moment bonds us closer together.”

In the weeks before we made our first outing to California, I imagined what my time with you would be like. The opportunity to remain alone, together, and away from the world seemed so grand. And yes, my carnal male nature had some insight in to the intimate goings-on, but my genuine yearn to be close overpowered me throughout the end of school. So, I drowned in the surf and I asked myself, “Wouldn’t it be nice?”

Years of motioning the same routine, living out fantasy-like scenarios in an internal world, and bottling up immense anxiety…that was me before having you to myself in our own little world. And it was a tiny solar system we made, surrounded by an endless galaxy called L.A. Somewhere in its core, like our own Milky Way, was a black hole. For those helpless souls who did succumb to its might and mass, they were absorbed into the void. It’s a concept where Stephen Hawking meets Nietzsche.

Too many people have shared their opinion on why California is such a strange yet magical place. Probably the logic differs among geologists, religious freaks, spiritualists, hobos, and hippies. With that said, I won’t detail my reasoning except to say it truly is a land of intrigue. I think it would be more appealing if San Francisco, Los Angeles, and Hollywood had never known fame or the face of the White Man. I’d like to see the state quiet and unknown, like Wyoming or North Dakota. That way I could have had more of it for ourselves. How amazing it would be to take an early walk along the cool beach of Redondo, then look down on Los Angeles from the southern hills and see nothing but earth – no homes, no people, no smog – only land and ocean. But once again, I’m saddened by only what is imagination and not actuality.

When I can wipe those watery beads from my red eyes, I close your notebook and pack it neatly away with my keepsakes. Even today when I am absolutely alone and emotionally spent, I flip through it again or hold your crucifix or open your music box I got you for Christmas. This is a self-torture and healing all in one. During those quiet moments, staring out my window looking west, I can almost sense you standing there behind me with your arms wrapped around my body. It would be kind knowing you’re checking up on me or even waiting for me to join you.

I regret nothing except that maybe I wasn’t tougher on you, but you were destined to live your life in the way you saw fit. Like Rick Nelson, you got tired of pleasing everyone, so you pleased yourself. Jenny, I am no cowboy and do not know how to tame a wild horse.

Wherever you are, I hope it's pleasant and pain free. I hope you have music, sunshine, and beaches. Though we are more than a horizon apart, please continue to think of me as I do of you. God willing, one day we'll meet again. I prefer not to delay the engagement any more than I have to. I shall be released.

For whoever finds this, I ask that my last wish be carried out: that I, Eric Daniel Baker, be buried next to my eternal love, Jennifer Dawn Montgomery.

Jenny, I miss you. I love you, baby. May God ease your tired soul. Peace be with you, stay young, and now it's your turn to drive. I’ll see you soon…and the Holiday People. Amen.

“No matter how hard I try to form you in my mind

Recalling the sound of your voice or the feel of your skin

Nothing compares to having you actually beside me

Reflecting back to times spent with you, knowing that when they happen I will only miss them afterward

So I try to enjoy you as much as I can when we’re together

Clinging on to each second

Losing the fragile progression of time

Almost allows me the opportunity to have you forever

An eternity to spend with you

I’ll make us a heaven

And we’ll always have each other

Somewhere deep in the midst of tranquility."