Beyond the Song

by Carol Selick

  A half an hour later, Melanie came back. “There’s something about that guy, Carol. He’s mysterious and I get strong vibes from him. Maybe it’s those dark eyes. He wants to show me his treehouse in Sausalito. He has a friend with a motorcycle who could give you a ride back to Berkeley. Are you cool with it?”

  I could tell she was really into him. She was talking fast and practically gushing as she clued me in.

  “Sounds okay,” I said half-heartedly.

  I didn’t know which was more dangerous. Me with no helmet on the back of a strange guy’s motorcycle speeding down a mountainous coast with no guard rails, or Melanie spending the night with a mysterious stranger, god knows where whose name I didn’t even know. I wasn’t worried about her, she could handle herself. As for me, I was getting used to living on the edge. The ride was exhilarating! I hung on to my anonymous biker and closed my eyes for half of the trip. When I did have the courage to open them, I looked down at the Pacific waves crashing on the rocks. We were riding so close to the edge and were so high up, one wrong turn would send us plummeting to our death!

  You’ve come a long way! I thought, and I felt empowered by every mile I’d traveled. I was no longer that sheltered teacher’s pet, a goody-goody living in boring suburbia. I’d finally broken free. Unfortunately, there was zero attraction between me and “motorcycle guy,” so I thanked him for the ride, jumped off the bike, and put my sandaled feet on solid ground.

  The next day, a glowing Melanie described her romantic adventure.

  “His name was Stacey and he did have a treehouse.” She dreamily relived her magical night as we drank our coffee during one of our many round table discussions.

  “It was the best! We did it on a bearskin rug! The vibes were so intense I swear I saw lightning above the trees! It was cosmic!”

  “Unbelievable! I’d settle for a few sparks. But summer’s almost over!” I whined, feeling frustrated with my fate. “I’ve got to go back to school a changed woman.”

  With only a week and a half left of my California trip, I was determined to find the right guy to change me from a “flower child” to a “de-flowered child.”

  Two days after Melanie told me about her amazing treehouse experience we were walking down Telegraph Avenue when a cute guy came our way. I felt an instant attraction. Our eyes met and we smiled at each other.

  “He’s mine,” I whispered to Melanie and she winked and walked away.

  “Hey,” he said. “What’s happening?

  “Not much,” I smiled up at him. “I’m gonna check out the music at the plaza.”

  “Cool. Want some company?”

  We fell into step and started to talk. His name was Richard and he was from Buffalo. He was exploring the scene on the West Coast before he started graduate school in the fall. He was handsome, medium height and weight, with short black hair, round wire John Lennon glasses, and a nicely trimmed beard. Except for his short hair, he was my type.

  Rich—that’s what he liked to be called—asked me all about myself and seemed genuinely interested. Three blocks later he’d invited me to go to dinner.

  “I could really be into you, Carol,” he said as he planted a kiss on my cheek. “See you tonight, then.”

  Maybe he’s the one! I thought as I rushed home to get ready.

  During dinner, I broke the news as we ate our Wonton soup. We were at the Yahtzee River on Channing Street, a popular Chinese restaurant within walking distance from my place.

  “I have something to tell you, Rich,” I stopped to take a gulp of tea. “I want to be with you, but I’ve never done it,” I whispered.

  “You mean you’re a virgin? Really?”

  I nodded and stared down at my soup. I felt like crawling under the table and hiding behind the tea-stained tablecloth. When I finally looked up, Rich stared deeply into my eyes and said, “Carol, I think I could fall in love with you. I want to make your first time special.”

  I ate some of my chow mein and we made some small talk, but it was pretty obvious that neither of us could wait for the main course. Things were falling into place. After dinner, we got into Rich’s rental car and drove around until we spotted a cheap motel on the outskirts of Berkeley. As soon as we walked in the door I went straight to the bathroom to inspect for bugs. I walked out to find Rich lying on the bed butt naked!

  “Come here, Carol,” he stood up, took my hand, and led me to the bed.

  “Take your clothes off,” it was more of a sigh than a command. I quickly undressed down to my underwear. We got under the covers and he rolled up on top of me and slid the only lace panties I owned down my legs as he gently kissed the inside of my thighs. Some awkward moments, a hesitant thrust, a little bleeding, and the deed was done. I still had no idea what an orgasm felt like. It was totally underwhelming. Afterward, we smoked our cigarettes and rolled over on our separate sides of the bed.

  The next morning while Rich was still snoring, I wrapped a blanket around me and tip-toed over to the sliding glass door. As the sun came up, I spotted a middle-aged woman hanging crisp white sheets in a neighboring backyard. I was overwhelmed by a strong spiritual connection to her. This simple act was a powerful reminder of the bond we shared as women. She was an archetypal symbol of womanhood, and now I too was initiated.

  Driving back to my place, Rich panicked and told me he was engaged to a woman back in Buffalo. “Last night was wonderful, but I don’t want to give you the wrong impression about our future, Carol.”

  I felt hurt but knew all the same that he’d given me something way more important. I’d finally done it! How could I feel used? I’d crossed the line. We’d used each other, just for different reasons. A vague emptiness overcame me as I kissed Richard goodbye. What would having sex with someone I was in love with be like? When I got back to my room, I took out my guitar and let my feelings out in a new song.

  I’m A Woman

  Hello my friend, I’d like to make a confession.

  I think you’ve got the wrong impression of me.

  I’m not the girl who I pretend to be.

  I’ve not yet given up my childhood fantasy

  Of what I think my true love should be.

  But I’m a woman and I need loving,

  And I need someone to ease the pain

  Of being a woman and needing loving,

  And the man I’m lovin’s got to feel the same . . .

  6

  THE FALL

  Then I decided to be on my own,

  And face my fears about being alone.

  But my Daddy’s words echoed in my head,

  And I wanted to be loved like my Daddy said.

  I knew California was not forever. Before we left on our cross-country trip, Melanie and I had found a furnished apartment near Dupont Circle. The neighborhood was a little dicey with students, hippies, and druggies, but it was within walking distance of GWU. Our place was on the second floor of a three-story building with two apartments on each landing. The best thing about it was our neighbors across the hall, Bonnie and Marsha. Our apartments looked exactly alike: a big living room painted a sickening hospital green, Goodwill furniture, a small kitchen, and three single beds in one bedroom. I was impressed by how Bonnie and Marsha used the extra bed as a place to pile their dirty clothes on.

  Our new neighbors were also juniors at GWU and Melanie had been in English 101 with Bonnie, freshman year. Bonnie was a French major who had spent a semester in France. She loved to travel and was bubbly and animated, especially when she talked about the countries she planned to visit after she graduated. She was very pretty, with wavy, long blonde hair, blue eyes, and a mouth that turned up at the corners, even when she wasn’t smiling. Bonnie was convinced that eating the French way was how to keep thin. She ate exotic foods like pate and camembert, but in very small amounts. She laughed easily and always had men circling around
her.

  Marsha was the calmest of the bunch, a real Earth-mother. She wore long dresses and hand-crocheted shawls and very little make-up. Chestnut-colored hair cut in a page boy framed her dark brown eyes and lightly freckled face. Marsha was wise beyond her years but loved to laugh and was always ready to get high. Evenings I often found her in the kitchen enjoying a joint and baking up a storm. Her banana bread was delicious, but it was her hash brownies we really looked forward to.

  Marsha’s mystery brownies weren’t the only way we got stoned. At the start of the semester, Melanie had become friends with Big John. He owned an underground record store in Georgetown, but bootleg records weren’t all he was selling. He was always in a mellow mood, mostly because of all the drugs he did. Big John started hanging out at our apartment, hoping Melanie would turn on to him, but that was not about to happen. He looked like a big teddy bear, tall and stocky with a full head of curly brown hair sticking out from his signature brown suede cowboy hat.

  One night the three of us were passing a joint around when Big John came up with a business proposition. If we agreed to keep a grocery-sized shopping bag of LSD in our refrigerator, he would pay our rent. It seemed like a good deal. We would have some extra money since our parents would still be paying our rent every month. Big John convinced us that no one would suspect two innocent GWU girls of possessing drugs, and said we could take free samples. Melanie and I went for it.

  It was Friday night and Melanie and Marsha had sampled some of the powder in Big John’s bag. Bonnie was on a “study date” and the three of us were sitting around the kitchen table staring at an egg candle melting yellow wax. I was the only one who hadn’t tried the LSD.

  “Look at the way the egg cracks open the warmer it gets. It’s like life. Never knowing what’s on the inside,” I mused.

  “Yeah, that’s deep,” Melanie said. Are you sure you’re not high?”

  “No, it’s a contact high. I’m picking up on your and Marsha’s vibes.”

  By the following Friday night, my curiosity about tripping took over and I dipped my finger into the magic bag and waited for my free sample to kick in. I felt safe with Melanie and Marsha who were staying straight just in case I had a bad trip. They were sitting on either side of me on the couch when suddenly I felt a rush of energy. I jumped up and ran to the closet to put on my skunk fur coat with big shoulder pads, an unclaimed item I’d inherited from my grandfather’s dry-cleaning store.

  “I have to get out of here!” I ran down the stairs with Melanie and Marsha trailing behind me. Standing on the corner under the streetlight, I was filled with love for everyone in the universe and wanted to share this new revelation with them. It felt amazing! I started waving wildly, calling out to people walking by. “Hey, you wanna get high?” Luckily, no one took me up on the offer.

  “Carol! Stop saying that. Come on, let’s go back upstairs,” Melanie coaxed.

  “Shhh! You wanna get us into trouble?” Marsha was freaking out.

  By then I was staring up at the stars. “I’ve gotta get to the country. Take me to the country. If I don’t get to the country, I’m gonna die!”

  “Okay, okay,” Melanie calmed me down. “We’ll get Big John to drive us to Rock Creek Park, but first you have to chill.”

  It was pitch black when we got there. I ran out of the car and immediately took off my boots and socks. The feel of the cool earth beneath my bare feet grounded me and instantly offered me relief. The gentle, reassuring sound of the water hitting the rocks in the nearby creek whispered to me, “You’re safe. You’re safe.” The sound was like a natural mantra, breathing calm and oneness into my being, making me feel part of a force much bigger than myself. I was egoless—devoid of any separation between me and the outside world. Marsha and Melanie huddled around me, instinctively protecting me as Big John rubbed my neck. I still felt scared but agreed to go with the flow and ride back with them to the apartment.

  It was when we got back that my hallucinations really took hold. I was on a trip I couldn’t control. Bizarre images of mysterious creatures danced in the shadows of the walls and even my friends’ faces became distorted and ugly. Everyone looked like the Wicked Witch of the West. Melanie and Marsha lovingly guided me through the kaleidoscope of emotions with music and reassuring words. I gradually transitioned from a bad trip to a good trip. Prismatic images of lights and colors shone like halos around my friends’ bodies, and vibrations vividly danced in front of me. Toward dawn, Melanie put on Abbey Road. The lyrics spoke to me as if I were hearing them for the first time. The Beatles were bringing me a message from a higher plain to heal my soul with love.

  Standing at the kitchen window, I watched the sunrise in the pale limitless October sky. Daybreak had never looked so beautiful. Across the street, a middle-aged woman in office attire stepped out of an apartment building and made the sign of the cross. A simple morning ritual to summon protection for the day. Another powerful message from the universe that spirituality and a higher power were everywhere.

  It took me a few days to completely come down. Big John had neglected to tell us that the acid was laced with speed. The way I viewed life was changed forever. I vowed this would be my first and last trip. I’d heard of people who took trips and jumped out of windows or went insane and never came back. I was already having a hard enough time holding on to reality. Why tempt fate?

  As the weeks flew by, I forced myself to go to more classes and smoke less pot. I was a sociology major, but the only class I liked was Marriage and the Family. The professor made a point of telling us that the United States was the only country that combined romance and marriage. European countries traditionally regarded marriage as a practical partnership and romance was found outside of marriage.

  My father had proclaimed that one day I would fall in love and experience true bliss. But what he really meant was that I should wait for Mr. Right before I did something wrong. He was a hopeless romantic and proud of the fact that he was a virgin when he got married. But I wasn’t buying it. I thought it had to do with those scary VD movies they showed him in the Army.

  I was still questioning whether my Knight in Shining Armor would ever appear and writing songs about it.

  When I was just a little girl, my Daddy said to me.

  “A man’s gonna come and love you some,

  That’s your Daddy’s prophecy.”

  But it keeps on a-worryin’ me

  Oh Lord, It keeps on a-worryin’ me.

  Meanwhile, I was getting more and more disillusioned with school. How could statistics help me in any way? I wrote a note to myself during one of my classes:

  Sit in the classroom and listen to the teacher, even though you’re bored to death. Copy down notes and read the bullshit, memorize it, and take a test. Get your little word grade, which tells you where you stand compared to the other goons who have done the exact same thing. Do this process about forty times and whoopee—a piece of paper signifying that you are in the educated elite.

  I couldn’t tell my parents how I was feeling about school. They were still recovering from the one time they’d visited me. I’d tried to clean up the apartment and hide the ashtrays and other paraphernalia, but they’d only stayed an hour and then took me out to dinner. I found out later that after they dropped me off, they sat in the car and cried. Maybe they got a whiff of what was going on in my hippie pad, but to me, it was just a typical apartment of a struggling college student.

  I was home for Thanksgiving vacation when I got a frantic call from Melanie.

  “Carol, Big John got busted! They arrested him and put him in jail! God—What are we gonna do?”

  “I hear you. It’s time to clean the refrigerator.”

  When we got back to Washington, the first thing we did was flush all the evidence down the toilet. Lucky for us, we were never contacted by the police. We never found out what happened to Big John either,
and were too afraid to ask.

  7

  SEASON OF THE WITCH

  I’m a girl-woman, I need a boy-man.

  I’m gonna give him all that I can,

  ’Cause I’ve got a feelin’ that I’ve got to share . . .

  It was a gloomy Saturday afternoon in late November and Melanie and I were taking a study break. “Something about this time of year feels strange,” Melanie said as we drank our chamomile tea and listened to a Donovan record.

  “I know what you mean, there’s some bad vibes brewing.”

  “Yeah, it’s like Donovan’s “Season of The Witch.”

  I’d gotten past Big John’s bust scare and was getting more into my music. One of Bonnie’s boyfriends was an amazingly talented guitar player who was giving me lessons. Bonnie didn’t seem that into him, but I was blown away from the minute he walked in the door. Michael reminded me of a cherub with street smarts. He had dark curly hair, large brown eyes, an olive complexion, and a soft, sexy voice. Added to his coolness was a small, gold stud that he wore in his left ear. He revealed to me that he was brought up by Jewish middle-class parents, but had quit high school and been on his own in New York City since he was sixteen.

  Michael cupped his hand over mine and I felt a spark. “Here, let me show you how to bar that chord, Carol.”

  It was my second lesson and we were working on a traditional blues song, “The Sun’s Gonna Shine in My Backdoor Someday.” He had a soulful way of bringing out the music. I sensed he was feeling something for me too, but I didn’t want to make the first move.

  “Are you still seeing Bonnie?” I asked innocently.

  “I don’t think she’s my type,” Michael said. He pulled my face toward him and kissed me softly.

  The next day Bonnie and I were having café au lait in her apartment while discussing our upcoming plans. The four of us were renting a townhouse starting in January, and Melanie and I were moving in with Bonnie and Marsha for the month of December. That was a big reason why I didn’t want my feelings for Michael to get in the way of our plans. We all got along so well - even our astrological signs were complementary. I was an air sign, Gemini; Melanie was water, Cancer; Marsha was earth; Capricorn and Bonnie was a fire sign; Leo. Taken together we comprised all four elements—we were in our own little world!