Chapter 9 – Summer’s Almost Gone

Hitting the beaches as often as possible, we really enjoyed our new found summer tradition. Jenny and I got respectable tans, coasted up and down PCH, and religiously stuck to hitting Redondo, Torrance, Hermosa, Manhattan, and Venice Beach. I heard there’s now a giant mural of Jim on Speedway. Though Venice (aka Dogtown), was a little grungier than the traditional beach communities and would soon make it as a skateboarding Mecca, Jenny and I liked the weird, gypsy vibes out there. We made trips to famous places, big towns and cities, and even the desert where Gram’s ashes were unsuccessfully scattered. Locally, there were always the reminders of Jim’s favorite haunts (as we often passed the La Cienega Motel where he used to live). Not purposely or selfishly, I kept Jenny from her friends a lot of the time. Where she had previously been with them three to four days a week, eventually had dwindled to one or maybe even two.

So often in each other’s company, we in organic fashion grew closer than we imagined. Though we hit a few clubs here and there, we had good old fashion fun. I had enough money to buy gas and food before school started back up. Jenny somehow had cash, but wouldn’t tell me how she got it. She’d slyly confess, “It’s a gift from the Holiday People. Christmas in July, Eric.” And in that summer, I again realized why I loved her to begin with. All of the harsh negativities of late winter left like speedy storm clouds. These were clear skies, man.

Jenny possessed the qualities of an attractive yet mysterious female. She looks at you from the side of her vibrantly green eyes, luring you in seductively. Her voice is soft with a sense of desperation so that you wait to hear her speak again. Her presence combines her unique beauty and lack of fear. And by no means is she socially delicate; she is a boy’s type of girl. Jenny is lovable and accepts attention, almost seeking it at times, but remains truly shy and complex. If one were to be seated next to her in class, they’d be fixed on her cool demeanor, hip threads, and bright aura. Boys and girls alike would find themselves staring.

Being apart earlier in the year, my worries almost overwhelmed me. Breaking up would have been very easy and so very difficult. Life is fragile in that sad, Hallmark kind of way. But then life and opportunity spring from nowhere and rejoice. It’s one of those rare instances that you feel you’re on some divine, pre-destined route. And to say we were in the rebirth of our relationship sounds corny, but is appropriate. I seated my role and niche in her life. We were tighter than ever.

The fun only got better because Nathan hit twenty-one and made beer runs for us, which is a lot safer than getting caught lifting it. I also got tired of hearing, “Look kid, I know you’re only eighteen or heck, maybe nineteen. I don’t sell alcohol to kids and I don’t want to ever see you in here again. Got it? Now beat it before I call the cops.” I wasn’t going to test a store clerk’s bluff, but Jenny would sneak a bottle into her purse.

Nathan had also been spending more time with us at the apartment. Now graduated, he sat in some sordid limbo. All of the partying he’d done with his friends at Cal Tech was over, so he hung out with me and Jenny. Not that he was a wild animal like his pals, but for a geeky guy, I never imagined him drinking or cutting loose. To me, his Peter-Tork-with-glasses image didn’t equal cutting loose, but he had a way of proving me wrong. He was a lot milder than Jenny’s crew, that’s for sure. Because technology was his main priority, I felt Jenny was safe with him when I wasn’t there.

His true, timid nature surfaced while he and I were sharing some cold ones. I made an off-color remark about he and Jenny having a one-off affair and Nathan completely tensed up. He stuttered (which he did when he was nervous), “I…I…I would never do such a heinous thing as to offend you.” I laughed at his seriousness as he continued, “Oh God, you’d beat me up something severe if I ever…” I was sorry for my rib, knowing he was so shaken at the mere thought of it.

Things continued their harmonious course when after a few phone calls, Mom and Dad started to come to terms with my situation. Not that I completely trusted them, or their old fashion feelings, but that’s how it had to be. At least we had open communication, the arguing got less, and we were meeting on a mature level. Dad probably came around the most, realizing his son was only following a dream, and he did the best to support it. In fact, once again, he made arrangements to transfer funding and wire me money so I could enroll with relative ease. And as my family and I tried to mend our situation, not once did I hear Jenny call her mom or talk about her.

When I mentioned it to her, “Yeah, I know it won’t help, but your mother is alone. I’m sure she misses you.”

“She’s dead.”

“Why do you always say that?”

“She died when Daddy did. He was her world. We never connected the way mothers and daughters should.”

“So, you’re going to leave this open ended? You’re not going to call her and let her know you’re okay?”

“When I’m dead, someone will let her know.”

Her morbid statement sent a cold, unearthly chill down my spine and created a large lump in my throat. Blinking my eyes in disbelief, yet I had nothing to reply with. Pressing the issue further seemed unnecessary.

Fun in the sun was cool, but there was a change in the winds and Nathan was leaving in August. One of his professors did some digging via business and academic resources and had a high end job lined up. Nathan had only stayed in the apartment as long as he did to avoid entering the real world. So, for a while, his agoraphobia toward maturity helped us out. Jenny made arrangements with a friend of hers, Diane, so we’d have a place to stay in Hawthorne. She was a twenty-eight year old mom who lost custody of her son to her ex-husband. A very thin frame and long, thick brunette hair, she looked very much like Emmylou Harris. Even though Diane struggled with bills, basically we were only charged a nominal amount for rent and we bought food for the three of us. My parents only sent enough cash to cover tuition and my own had run out.

In order to have any money, I began working at a record shop around late July just before Mama Cass passed away. It didn’t pay well, there was an unforgettable odd musk to the place, but it was a fun atmosphere and I made some contacts and friends. Well, more so when I finally got to work the register and had real customer interaction. Jenny had to teach me beyond what I already knew of music because the customers were pretty hardcore. Sometimes I felt lost and dumb because all the other employees, like Jenny, were encyclopedias who could throw an answer just as quick as the customer asked. The guys at the store had an almost ESP feel for what the customers wanted. Though, apparently, great at remembering names and songs, they couldn’t total money to save their lives. The twelve volume set didn’t come with a math book. After a month, I became the unofficial bookkeeper. Besides, the new scene in L.A. was not my cup of tea and it was better I didn’t become intimately involved.

Jenny waitressed a few of the hot spots in and around the Strip and smaller restaurants near Diane’s. Nothing too grungy, nothing too great either. She’d usually work a few weeks at one, then decide she couldn’t take it, quit, and try her luck at another place. On the upside, she made well in tips and got to know a lot of people; but between drunks flirting with her, the strange element that was sifting into the scene, and other issues plaguing 1974 society, she was looking at doing something else entirely.

Most nights when she staggered in, I got frustrated with her coming in completely exhausted. Some shifts were fine; others, she had dark circles under her eyes and looked like she’d been through a walking tour of hell. I questioned her health, if doing this type of work was best for her. I mean, in the big city, there were other alternatives.

“Yeah, it wears me out. But the girls there gave me some stuff. They keep me going for a while.”

“Stuff?”

“Yeah, pills.”

“What kind of pills?” I never really considered such a thing to get you through work. Usually, soda or coffee did the trick, at least for me.

“I don’t remember what she called them exactly, but they’re uppers.”

“Up her?” I sort of joked.

“No, uppers. They bring you up and keep you going. Amphetamines.”

Stress and reliance built up. Jenny told me she began requiring it to get through work. Not really understanding the complete implications of this, I could only joke with her about taking these “pills,” but never really stopped it. I didn’t know they were narcotic drugs or that they could be harmful. A buddy of mine back home, his dad was a trucker. He used to make long drives across the Midwest and then South, sometimes taking medication to keep from dozing off on the road. So, it didn’t strike me as overtly odd. Perhaps some people did it when they needed it, right?

Jenny would take them, speed her up for while, then crash like the Challenger in Vanishing Point. Then she’d take more. Over the course of an eight to nine hour shift, it made things easier. But when I saw her, she was wiped. It was a Catch 22. We needed the money to live and her tips really helped out. As a hot girl, people were dishing out big bills to her nightly. Jenny never really complained, but she considered cashing in her chips because she did want out.

“Some club owner approached me about dancing topless. He said I could make a lot of money. Thanks for the compliment, buddy. Who cares, you know? On the exact same night, some guy asked me out. Said he was a big shot football player. I told him I was already dating one. He asked who and I kept walking. What a creep.”

In addition to working, we enrolled in our second year. For me, my dad took care of all the necessary paperwork. As for Jenny, I don’t know. I never knew how hard school and work together was until I did a few weeks of it. My manager even noticed it on my face. In an act of sympathy, I got a weekend off after a big sale to catch up on school work and be with Jenny. She, on the other hand, now found herself alone on days she wasn’t in class or working. It was almost no different than the spring.

By the end of September, things did start to smooth out. My schedule and Jenny’s began to flow better. She cut her hours and changed her shifts. Most of my friends were Jenny’s friends, by default, and when we needed a social outing, we sought them out. Through casual conversation, I noticed Jenny had been spending a lot of time at Jerry’s. I figured as much, but she had classes, too. Right? To me, she didn’t have time to do all this stuff while still maintaining her busy life. And as usual, when I saw a problem, it was easier to skirt around it unless needed. But, curiosity had been tugging my shirt.

One night, we left Jerry’s and headed back to Diane’s. I felt I needed to know more about what Jenny was doing. I was the dad, asking his little girl what she’s been doing with herself. We were in survival mode, living on our own, and up until now, I didn’t question anything. She’s an adult, just like me. We can handle this.

“How many classes are you taking?” I asked in that dumb, I don’t know, kind of way.

She curled her forehead, “Why?”

“Question.”

“I already told you before.”

“Just wondering.”

“I’m…I’m taking three.”

“I never see you doing school work and you spend a lot of time with your friends.”

“What are you asking me, Eric?”

“I’m saying, I don’t think you’re attending classes.”

Very casually, “No, I’m not. I didn’t even sign up.”

I was sort of half surprised, half not, “Wha’ the hell…then why did you lie to me?”

“The loans never came through. Was I gonna put all that on my mom? Then, to tell you…I thought I would disappoint you. I know how much you think school is important.”

“Yeah, it is. So is honesty.”

What other secrets were being kept from me? My sense of optimism kept me from exploring any darker depths. I hated to question it because she always seemed worn out and then get quiet. During that state, people become irritable. If I bugged her about it, I’d just seem like a whiny husband rather than a fun-loving boyfriend. Since we had been saving money, working as hard wasn’t necessary. I cut back a few hours since Jenny did the same. Besides, I didn’t want to spend the little time I had with her being a jerk.

Though Jenny was trying to get steady afternoons, the club needed her at night. That’s when the business was drummed in. If I only saw her a few hours, she’d have to take off, head to work, and be out real late. Somewhere in the AM, she’d stealthily crawl into bed.

“But I’m having fun with what I’m doing.”

“Jenny, I’m not asking you to quit. All I want is to spend more time with you. At no point of time do I want to see you tired.”

Diane walked by. She normally never edged her way into our business. “Jen, you are burnt out.” Gesturing to me, “He’s right: you’re doing too much. All Eric is trying to do is take care of you,” pointing to Jenny. “Stop putting in such insane hours at the club, and just relax.”

Jenny looked at both of us, not sure what to say and half tempted to roll off bitterness in our direction.

In the pause, Diane continued, “Maybe he doesn’t know it, but I know. You need to stop that other thing you’re doing, too.”

Grabbing my attention, I looked at them both, “Stop what?” Jenny looked down.

Diane delicately lifted Jenny’s chin up, looking at her at eye level, “You’re hurting yourself, you’re hurting him, and if it comes in my house, you’re out.”

Still confused, I raised my voice, “What are you talking about?”

Jenny walked between us and out of the room. I stared at Diane, demanding an explanation.

“Your girlfriend is on dope.”

“No she’s not!” Her eyes weren’t lying. For a brief second, my mind tried to imagine the reference. “Wait…you mean the stuff to keep her up?”

“It’s a little more than that, my friend.”

It wasn’t denial, because I knew nothing, “I don’t believe that.” It seemed more a false accusation than anything else. I knew they had some tiffs recently. Maybe she was being vindictive?

“She’s kept it from you, Eric, and you’re too naïve to know better.”

“What drugs is she doing?”

“I’d guess speed or mescal, just to start with.”

“What are those?”

“You are naïve, aren’t you?”

“What would Eric think of the pills if he knew about them? What label would he tack to my forehead?

There are atlases to get you there but no survival guides for once you arrive. I live life by trial and error. For all the things I do right, it means I equally make as many mistakes. The only person to truly teach me anything meaningful is Eric. School teaches facts, numbers, names, places, and other unimportant nouns. My parents taught me enough to make it through life without being hit again. And here we are, living as human beings on a blue Earth, all so different: lost and confused.

When my grandmother used to take me to church, I remember on one occasion they were talking about the trials of life, challenges we have to face. As a kid, that meant nothing. Years later, left to our devices, we always manage to complicate our situation. Whether it's God, Osiris, or maybe Buddha at the end of our travels, it is Eric who is my real judge with worthwhile input. Perhaps I can strike a deal with offerings of love?”