By five p.m., rain was pelting down in spear-like sheets. Stephen and Alicia were huddled toward the back of the tent making love, I was pretending to be asleep while counting the rain hits, when a soft jabbering from outside caught my attention.
A young boy of about thirteen was sitting, miserable, under a garbage bag.
“Do you want in?” I asked. He shook his head.
For want of something else to do, I kept the flap open and started a conversation. Turned out he was in middle school about to enter high school. He had run away from home and his name was Wally. His eyes were a light blue, his freckled face appealing. We must have chatted for a good half hour during which time I learned how much he loved pizza, his favorite book was Robinson Caruso and he was really nervous about starting high school.
“Don't you think you should call your parents?” I finally mentioned, recalling the snake-like lines of kids calling their folks on phones set up by the coordinators.
He shook his head vehemently.
“They're probably worried sick about you.”
“You think so?” He looked dubious.
“Of course. Now, you promise you'll call them soon?”
He paused. “The lines to the concert phones are so long.”
I placed my hand on his shoulder. “It doesn't matter.”
He brightened and took off, making sure I'd save his spot. I grinned, satisfied somehow as I watched the little black plastic tent wander off, nearly tripping over a couple sprawled out on their blanket.
Later, down at the stage, everyone agreed, the Grateful Dead could have phoned in their performance and Janis Joplin? As far as I was concerned, she wouldn't last another two years, she was so wasted.
We made it back up the hill by nine p.m. as the rain was doing its thing again—hard, driving, purposeful. From out of the darkness, a black blob started talking and I would have assumed I was loaded had I not known better. It was Wally, covered in even more plastic trash bags, like a small, garbage dump, and in the midst of laughter and mutual admiration for his ingenuity, we all said our goodnights and I fell into a dreamless sleep.
The next morning, the lineup was even more exciting: Joe Cocker, Country Joe and the Fish again, Blood, Sweat and Tears, Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young, Neil Young, Butterfield Blues Band, Sha-Na-Na and last but not least, Jimi Hendrix.
The three of us began our trek down to the johns and food, passing a sleeping ameba-esque Wally, and as I leaned down to check for breathing, I was relieved to see a slight up and down movement coupled with several snores. Chuckling, we went our merry way.
By midday, a lot of people were already leaving the field, getting a head start on the exit traffic, but Stephen was determined to stay until the Bitter End.
I was soaked, exhausted, and totally immersed in hormones. Everything was beginning to irritate the hell out of me, so by seven p.m., when Stephen declared, “I've had it with the military! As far as I'm concerned, they're all a bunch of bums, from top to bottom!” I wanted to slap his face.
Alicia, basking in the recent glow of lust nodded as I stood up on our blanket, sputtering.
“Listen, you two! I've had it! According to you my husband Sam is one of those bums. He really didn't want to go, tried to get out of the draft, but in the end, he had no choice and he took it like a man! And by the way, he's miserable over there. Miserable! I guess it's easy to say they're all bums, isn't it, when you're thousands of miles away, safe in the arms of the U.S.!”
Their mouths dropped while I flopped down again on the blanket. As I steadied my pounding heart, Stephen ventured forth a supportive arm around me and whispered, “I'm so sorry, Lily. I—I didn't know.”
I nodded slowly and gazed up towards our tent area on the hill. I could see quite a few of the other tents had already been taken down, replaced by a few local garbage trucks, also getting a jump on the upcoming enormous cleanup.
We stayed through Jimi Hendrix doing his magnificent, Star Spangled Banner, then slowly worked our way back up the hill to a good night's sleep. Surprised by all the empty spaces, we commented on how important the weekend had been, an experience to always remember as I looked for Wally. He wasn't there, and from out of nowhere, I blurted out how I really hoped he had returned to his parents and what a cute kid he was.
Alicia smiled. “Maybe you're meant to be a mom after all, Lily.”
Monday morning was D-Day as far as packing up was concerned. Once again, Stephen was extremely resourceful and had our stuff ready in no time flat. We were about to wind down to the road when several ambulance sirens blared through the stifling heat.
“Let's head down to the clinic area,” Stephen announced. “I'm curious. This could be yet another angle for EVO.”
Loaded down with gear, we ambled over to the makeshift clinic, where a small crowd had gathered. Someone in a body bag was being hoisted up into an ambulance. We had heard through the grapevine that a girl had overdosed, so of course that must be her. I watched the EMTs being both purposeful and annoyed by our presence.
“Get out of the way, folks. Let us do our job,” a big burly one said.
That didn't stop Stephen. He got out his weathered EVO press pass and shoved it into the guy's face. “Look, man! I'm a reporter for a newspaper. You gotta tell me what happened!”
“Oh, no, I don't.” The bulky guy snapped.
“Come on, man. No bogus rules, no bullshit. This has been the most freeing weekend on record. Just tell us the truth, man and we'll leave you alone to do your job.”
The EMT looked hard at Stephen then shrugged. “Okay. Okay. Some dumb kid got himself killed by a garbage truck, just because he wrapped himself up in trash bags. What a goddamn waste.”
A pale Stephen asked one last question, “What—what was his name?”
He never heard the answer. He was too busy comforting me.
“Mother, I have some news to tell you.”
“Yes, Lily, what is it?” I could tell, although she'd never admit it, Rose was happy to finally hear from me.
“I'm going to have a baby.”
“Why, that's lovely, dear. I'm assuming Sam knows?”
“Yes. He's coming home in a few months.
There was a long pause. “Well, maybe now you can go back to leading a normal life!”
Chapter 5: Beginning Revelations
At the psych exam, Harry made sure he was sitting in close proximity to Sonia as Deanberg Lecture Hall was filling up. To his right, he could see Sonia leaning over her exam booklet, her index fingers tapping to the right, then to the left of it several times before she broke the seal and started in. In full concentration mode, she had forgotten to park a few stray strands of hair behind her ear, and it made him smile. She reminded him of an innocent child, with her brown, silky fly-away hair.
He also noticed how Mark, one row over, was leaning over towards Pamela and staring at her answer sheet before he broke his own seal. The test proved less difficult than Harry had thought, and finishing an hour and a half in, he leaned back, stretched, and glanced at the clock. Many people had already left, others had taken on that oh-what-the-hell-this-is-another-one-lost look. He glanced over at Sonia and saw she, too, was finishing up.
She turned, smiling, and passed him a note. “A post-exam coffee?” He nodded, signaling swat team-style for both of them to meet out in the hallway.
“How are you?” he asked as they sat down in Bart's Café, a local hangout.
Sonia giggled. “Did you see Mark cheating?”
“Yeah, that was interesting…” He watched her sip her coffee, delicate, ladylike. He paused, wondering how he should begin, but Sonia beat him to the punch. “So, what's your story, Harry? How did you get interested in psychology?”
“I enjoy the inner relationships of people—how people think, react, come to solutions about problems. You?”
“Oh, I suppose I'm just searching for my solutions.” She grinned. “Do you have any siblings?”
Harry sh
ook his head. “You?”
“No, I'm an only child…” She leaned in. “What about your parents? Do you get along with them?”
Harry chuckled. So much for her timid appearance. “My father is in business and my mother…well, I guess she's always been a housewife. Yours?”
“My dad is a Vietnam vet. In a wheelchair, the whole magilla, so my mom stays home to take care of him. A very sad tale indeed.” She raised her index finger to tap.
“My dad was also in Vietnam, but I guess he was one of the lucky ones. He got out with all his limbs intact. However, my mother did tell me that when he first returned he was a mess and she didn't know what to do, until a neighbor urged him to go to a VA support group. It saved his life, I think. That and helping a buddy from over there who desperately needed his support.”
He took a chance. “So, how long have you been with Mike?”
“Ah, about two months, why?”
He shrugged. “Oh, no reason, just curious.” He got involved in stirring his coffee.
“He's smarter than he looks and pretty successful in the rock world.” Her words sped up as if she were practicing a memorized line from a play.
“Didn't mean to pry…”
She stretched a tight grin. “No problem. He's the leader of a band, called Grand elbow.”
“Aha. Tell me more about it.” Not the moment to comment on how inane the name sounded.
“Yes, well he's definitely the leader.”
“Don't they have a manager or something of that nature?”
“Yes, of course. Ned—wait. Not anymore.” She frowned. “You know, I have to go. Promised Mike I'd be at his show tonight.”
Two paces out, she turned back as an afterthought. “Would—would you like to come, too?”
“I'm not much of a drinker…”
“You don't have to partake. You could even bring a date. Maybe that girl you're so loyal to.” She enjoyed getting that one in.
Harry looked confused. “Girl?”
“You know. The one you refused to abandon for our last cram session.”
“Oh, you mean Martha! No, she couldn't come with me. That's not possible.”
“Come on Harry, bring the girl you're so attached to.”
He got the same look as he did when he defied Mark. “No, no. That's really not going to happen. She has cerebral palsy and is in a wheelchair. In those clubs, it's much too crowded and overwhelming for her. I'm sorry. I just won't do that to her.”
Her eyes softened. “Oh, how kind…”
Harry shrugged. “I don't know about that. It's just that she and I have known each other since we were kids, that's all. Her folks were like my second parents, so I love seeing them as well.” He cocked his head. “Sometime, if you're interested, I can bring you over with me…” He waited for her reaction. “You told me your dad's wheelchair bound, right?”
“Yes, so?”
“Well, it might give you another perspective of someone whose life hasn't turned out so well, either.”
“Maybe. Sure…”
He got up. “Well, I should really be going too. Professor Seidell's not the only class on my schedule. See ya, Sonia. Take care.”
It wasn't until she had gotten into the club and was starting her second rum and coke that she realized she had spent the last two hours without tapping.
When the first rim shots rang out, the crowd went berserk—stomping, cheering, whistling. Without warning, Timothy Leary's chaotic household flashed across Sonia's brain, and it suddenly occurred to her that had she been there, unlike her mother, she might very well have reveled in it, no questions asked. No longer in a Manhattan club, she was transported to a blistering August day in upstate New York so long ago, waving back and forth, her arms flailing in complete abandonment.
At the end of the night, sweeter than cherry pie, thicker than molasses, more velvety than honey, floated through her mind as Mike's arms cuddled her and his lips nibbled her neck nonstop. “Gotta get me some tonight. No studying, right?” he whispered, the heat from his tequila and limed mouth condensing sweat down her lobe.
After their hazy early morning speed-dialing, cuddleless sex, she asked a question from out of the stillness. “Hey, Mike?” She kept her tapping as quiet as possible.
“What, Babe?”
She thought of Alicia's signage Babe sprawled across her photo. “How do you feel about people with disabilities?”
“Say, what?”
“ Disabilities, like cerebral palsy.”
“What's that?”
“It's a progressive umbrella neurological condition that can affect a person's brain in various ways…”
“English, goddammit, English!”
“Just take my word, it's a serious affliction.”
“Jesus Christ, Sonia. Why do you have to bring up something like that now? This is my mellow time, for God's sake!” He paused. “I guess it would creep me out. I'm not really comfortable with people like that.”
“Well, what about my dad?”
“Yeah, well. I have to admit, when I met him, all I wanted to do was get the hell out of your parent's home as quick as possible. Sorry, Babe. That's just who I am. Love it or leave it!” he murmured as she pictured the 60's Pro-War signs at Lily's and Stephen's protest rally.
“Well, the next two boxes are about my life again, as a child, with Grandma Rose, Grandpa Peter, Bimmy, and Sadie. See if that sparks anything in you…” Lily said cheerfully as Sonia handed back Sam's letters and one of his diaries.
“Bimmy and Sadie?”
“Yeah, my other two moms. Come on, let's do it!” She took Sonia's hand and led her upstairs to the sounds of Sam's soft, throated whistle sifting through Lily's hand-held monitor.
This time the attic didn't seem threatening at all. On the contrary, as Sonia approached the trunk, she could feel her pulse jump. Lily's childhood box was overstuffed as well, and as her mother lifted each item out carefully, she added a full commentary. First came a well-preserved Minnie Mouse blouse, then a Carnegie Hall ticket dated 1964: The Beatles In Concert'. A 45 record of Got a Whale of a Tale came next. The ticket brought a comment about crazy groupies and the record, a laughing comment of how she played that one over and over.
Sonia's ears perked up. ‘Played that over and over again'—OCD? Interesting, she mused, as she watched her mom plow through history. There was a red Snow Ball lipstick by Max Factor, which brought with it a confession of having stolen it from Grandma Rose, a Loew's Sheraton theater Singin' in the Rain ticket brought a smile then a frown, and a small Polaroid of three kids labeled Me—Sam—Leroy on the white bottom in black ink, with a thoughtful expression. The last item was a ratty looking Davy Crockett coonskin cap.
“Wow, Mom, this is great. Come on, tell me, tell me!” Sonia begged.
“Well, it's all in these diaries I kept growing up. Have yourself a blast.” Handing over the little girlie diaries, she added, “I always did wonder what happened to Bimmy or Sadie, or Leroy…”
“You're not in touch with them anymore?” Sonia asked as she studied the photograph.
“Sonia, we're not in touch with anyone, not even Billy R. who tried so hard to help your father…”
The monitor discharged a little burp and Sonia glanced at her watch. “Better go now. Thanks so much, Mom. I'll take very good care of these little treasures. Do you want me to help you put everything back?”
Lily shook her head and waved her daughter away. Wants her own time, Sonia surmised as she crept downstairs and let herself out. By the time she had reached her apartment building, Mike was standing outside, his hands shoved deep into his pockets.
“Mike? What's goin' on?”
“Well, that's a nice way to treat your boyfriend!”
“Sorry, I'm distracted, that's all. Come on up.”
She could feel him behind her, his heavy leather jacket squeaking softly as they made their way into her apartment. Inside she took off her coat, put on hot water for tea, tidied up.
“Hey, hello! I'm here…” Jacket off, he was already starting to unbutton his fly.
Sonia stared at his crotch, thinking only about the treasure trove of family information she was dying to start. The water started whistling and she ignored his hand signal to Do Her Thing.
“What's up with you, Sonia?” As he stood up and came near her, she flashed on Clevon and Stephen at her mother's Shangri-la, how they both wanted what they wanted with Alicia.
“I just had a long night, that's all…”
He chuckled. “That never stopped you before, did it?”
“Mike, I—I guess I'm just not in the mood, you know?” She bit her lip nervously.
“Yeah? Well, that's fine with me. I'll just have to go elsewhere, won't I?”
When she came over and wrapped arms around him, she could feel herself getting excited. Blocking out Clevon, Stephen, Alicia, Lily, she let him guide her with him onto the bed in a tumble of arms, legs, pants, blouse, bra, shoes, and boots. The odd thing was, when she was heading towards an orgasm, she saw Harry's face behind her closed eyes.
Immediately after, he fell asleep, giving her ample opportunity to read her mom's diaries and check her phone service.
“You have one call. Nine thirty p.m.” She pressed one.
“Hey, this is Harry. Got your number through Mark. First of all, had a nice time with you. Hope we can do it again sometime. Ah, second, remember I told you about my friend, the one with cerebral palsy? Well, her family is having a birthday party for her tomorrow night, and if you're free, you're more than welcome to come. You can bring your friend, Mike if you want. (pause) Anyway, have a good night. See ya.” Click.
Interesting, she thought as she withdrew the first of the diaries from her backpack. A bright pink number, halfway through the first two pages she smiled. Nice that Lily thought of each of these three women as her moms. Then she reread the passages again and thought how lucky she was; ‘I'd rather just have one good mom,' she reflected as Mike stirred in his sleep.
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