VISIT WITH DAD
Peter Black
Now Les is to have taken off for Maine. Jocko, her husband, her old man, my one time fair friend, has run her off to get her head straight, spend sometime with her folks, get embarrassed about all the complications and, at least, for sure, forget about me. I've still got the heart of gold, think of her watching the ice flow on the Great Lakes from 35,000 feet, try to get myself together. Three cups of coffee and half a dozen scrambled eggs and a malt liquor. Sitting out on the step watching the frost drip off the big trees, and in comes Deed up the driveway in her Chevy. I can see Les is in the front seat too, and all I know is that my heart's smilin' again and that something peculiar is once again going on coming down.
I get in the house, get a pot of water on for more coffee, am sorting out the seeds and stems by the time the Chevy's pulled up to the house. Coming in the door, they find me putting another oak log on the fire and Deed just grins at me.
"She says she has to see you one more time before she goes."
I shake my head in disbelief at both of them. "I thought we was all going to have a vacation from all of this."
It's helpless as always. Deed and I get busy smoking up what's left and Les finds the mint and adds some boiling water to the cup.
"Will you make up some coffee, too?"
"Sure." And Les finds the instant and makes up a cup for Deed and I who have turned to grinnin' fools again passing the joint back and forth sort of looking back over our shoulders to see what Les is up to. She is definitely not letting on to anything, just keeping still and stirring cups of hot stuff. Finally she joins us, sits at the table and we pass her the joint and get a smile out of her and I get my hand in her lap.
Small talk, more coffee and another joint squeezed out of what's left and Les sitting quietly and taking my hand in hers now and then which I keep letting lie there. Soon there's a strain and I know it's Deed again getting caught in the middle.
"I gotta get back to the ranch, Les. We're being expected." she announces as she begins to gather her stuff, her smokes and sunglasses, into her beaded purse. My heart drops as they get up to leave. I get Les's hand for a good squeeze off and get in a long eye gaze before I let her go. I get up and go to the door to watch them walk out to the car, get in, gab awhile, and damn if Les doesn't come trotting back with her coat and purse as Deed starts up her car and pulls on out the road.
Trouble. The short and sweet of it. Les's eye's telling me it's just that as she comes back in the door. We grab each other in the warm embrace, hold on just a moment, and I ask her straight out if she's staying awhile. Her nod let's me know, quick, we better get the old Falcon fired up somehow and clear on out because, for sure, soon as Deed gets back to the ranch, Jocko's to know what's up and to be over here first thing to try and clear things up fast again.
The choke out full and a push and a shove and we're rolling down the drive and damn if she don't just sputter to life one more time and we're off like Bonnie and Clyde, on out to the pavemeant and up to the store for half a gallon of fine Chablis. I really do feel like a fifties greaser snatching his sweetheart off to the destruction derby somewhere. I want to strip to my T-shirt and roll my cigarette pack up into my sleeve.
"We'll go up to Jacy's. She's off to the city with Alice and I know she's got some tuna fish hidden out somewhere. We can have a picnic."
Les doesn't say anything, just looks up at me with those eyes of hers and I roll down the window and let the feel of pumping the bastard Falcon up the hill rush through and wash across my face. Nothing to say, just wonder to yourself as you pull around those turns up the mountain just what it is that it is all leading to this time. I look over at Les, but it's obvious that no one's got the answer, just get up the mountain, get out of it and away. Whatever else is coming ain't happening and dear, yes, indeed, this time could be the last. As always.
Sure enough, Jacy's van is gone, the old mill deserted, even the rasp of the huge generator missing at last. We make our way down the hill into Jacy's cabin, neat as a pin, the soft light pouring in through the plastic windows welcoming us into the warmth of the south slope and we just stumble off on into the bed and I find all the buttons now a little easier than ever and there is nothing but to slip off into it all again, at last, and pursue it as if it might last forever if only we could just contain all of it once.
Later, after our nap, I find some Erskine Cauldwell in the bookshelf hidden amongst all the science fiction, grab a towel and let the water run into the outdoor tub. All the length of the plastic pipe stretching down from the spring above has been heated by the afternoon sun allowing me the luxury of a fine hot bath and it has been days. I get the jam out from between the toes and lay back trying to keep the water off the pages as if my mind were together enough to read anything. Try to get my mind off Les making up sandwiches in the cabin. She comes out. We eat. Take turns at our Chablis. No way, it seems, to get a word from her, all these masked glances filtering our eye contact. I am lost. She is kind enough. Takes my neck in her hands and kneads out the knot. I keep trying to find words but each time I fill my mouth with them I feel I am saying too much, and I finally give out completely and join into her silence. I suppose it's just that she doesn't know either, and if there's nothing to know, there's nothing to say, but slowly this stillness between us is giving me the jitters, like feeling the shadow of the hawk, knowing it's some kind of a set-up for sure and that it's my heart that's to get broken or my jaw busted in two.
I stay in the tub as long as I can, letting the water cool off until I am shivering with goose bumps. Keep chugging on that bottle of Chablis until I realize I've come close to having drunk away the excuse. Watch Les through the window getting her clothes on, know it's time to get up and out of this and back into reality wherever it's disappeared to this time. By the time I'm out and dried and dressed, I find Les at the kitchen table nibbling at the left over tuna as she thumbs through one of Jacy's astrology books.
"Guess I best get you back down to your old man."
"I'm staying here."
"Gonna hide out?"
Just her eyes lifting up from her astrology book letting me know that, somehow, I've been had.
"Jocko's got to be looking for you by now."
"I don't care."
"So...you just want too hang out here?"
"Yes.
"Well, okay, but I'm going down the hill. I've got to find Carruthers. Jacy's not due back until tomorrow night and I'm sure it's all right if we spend the night. It's just... it's just that this isn't going to settle anything."
"I know. I just don't care. Not right now."
"Okay, but if I run into Jocko, I don't know a thing. Even if he asks me straight out, I'm not telling him anything this time."
"All right."
Riding down the hill, backing off the whole way in second gear and just letting the car roar it's way down and digging the racket. Fuck it. It's all on my ass again. Jocko will be at the bar for sure. All the bloody cat and mouse. But I'll be damned, sure to hell, if I give a fuck. It's between those two now, and if he wants her, he'll just have to be sharp enough to find her. If someone doesn't watch out, for sure now, I'm just about to get possessive. This thing about getting it thrown in your lap just only goes so far, and the guy with the wooden heart painted gold is just going to have to play a bit of the bastard himself.
Coming around the turn at the Grange hall, I can see that Jocko's heap is conspicuously absent from the row of junkers parked outside Jimbo's tavern, so I figure Deed has somehow found it in her heart to remain discrete for a change. Either that or he's off driving the road off to the swimming hole down Big River where he might imagine Les and I would choose to hide. I see that Carruthers must be inside sipping a brew as his black International is parked half-way down the line up outside, his Indian feathers fluttering in the breeze off the top of his radio antennae, his strange challenge to the narcs. I find him inside easily enough, down by the piano munching on one of Jimbo's superb eighty-five cent cheeseburgers and chugging his Coors.
"Sparrow!"
"Gene! What's up?"
"Nothin' to talk about."
Raising his eyebrows, he asks anyway.
"Les?"
And I confess.
"Yeah... but do me a favor if you run into Jocko. Just don't say a thing cause even I don't know what the hell is goin' on this time."
"Okay. Sure. But listen. Jimbo says your father just stopped by here looking for you."
"No shit."
"Yeah. Really. Ask Jimbo about it. He's the one who talked to him."
"Holy shit, amigo, is this going to get interesting."
I find Jimbo behind the bar, and he lets me know the reality of it.
"Yeah, he was in here about an hour ago. Said he'd already been out to your place and that he was driving on into the coast for some lunch and would meet you back here around three. Anyways, if I found you."
"Anyone with him?'
"Blonde lady. Who's she?"
"New wife. I've never met her. What's she look like?"
"Quite nice."
"Well, give me a draft on the tab and see if you can slip on some of the Stones on the turntable. This is going to get insane."
"Weren't you expectin' him?"
"Naw, this is the way he always likes to pull it. He's a great magician, always pulling himself out of air. I like to think of it as a perverse sense of humor."
"Well, have fun." he grinned as he scrounged up a pair of dice cups for the two loggers at the far end of the bar who had been bellowing for his attention all this time. I glanced up at the huge clock Jimbo kept up over the bar. Two-thirty. I wouldn't even have the time to drink myself into composure.
I take my beer over to the piano and Sparrow gives me the eye as I sit down beside him.
"Drop the smirk, amigo. This is going to be fun."
"How long since you've seen him?"
"Ah, I guess it was a year and a half ago when Ann and I were still living out in the tent. Just before she finally left me and just before he finally got his divorce. Another odd time. He always pulls it like this. Just shows up unannounced. But it's a good trick in a way. I never get the chance to get my defences up, but what a bloody adrenalin rush. Christ, you should see my place right now! The coons busted into the cookhouse last night and the place looks like the aftermath from Beggars' Banquet. Jesus. Too late to cover up for anything now, bein' he's already been out there. Lucky he didn't run into Jocko."
"What's he like, anyway?"
"My old man? Ah, he's got a good heart. And a Facisti streak this wide. You can dig it. He definitely doesn't understand this trip, my consuming interest in poverty and desperation, but I think I entertain him."
"Good luck."
"I don't really need it with him, we stay out of harm's way these days. I just want to stay clear of Jocko. But look, let's get out of this altogether. What I really wanted to know is if you're still into doin' a gig down here Friday night. I'll bring down the amp and the snare and King's gonna bring his horn..."
"Why not, the piano's in tune. Think Jocko's up to it?"
"Yeah, he'll play. He'd be coppin' a defeat if he didn't. Besides he loves to show off on those skins. He'll turn this whole thing into a moment of glory."
"Maybe..."
Jimbo got the Stones on, and as Sparrow and I talked up the band and the possibility of getting things off Friday night, we got the message.
"Here it comes... Here it comes... Here it comes your Nineteenth Nervous Breakdown."
I caught him as he came in the door. I thought I might be able to read something in his face as he incorporated the view, the jarring juxaposition of all the long hair and pony tails bobbing among the crew cuts on the logger crew, the clash of cultures the only bar in town resolves, but he seemed as at ease as I remembered him anywhere. He was dressed for the patio in his fine Bermudas and the L.L. Bean mocasins. Nice shirt! Mexican with sea-shell buttons. Hardly tourista. Very tastey. Actually no one else seemed to care or notice he was the only guy in the place out of uniform. No Levi's! However, the attractive blonde who followed him in got the appreciative eye from everyone. A short hush rolled like a wave over the rambled conversation filling this hideway of timber and cultivation bandits. There was something else, a recognition I hadn't expected. I had seen her before, had met her on the coast that last time the old man was up taking Ann and I off to lunch in Jaspar. He had introduced us to her as she exited from a gift shop. He had feigned great surprise on the off chance of running into her here, his secretary, also on a week-end vacation, North Coast, June.
Catching their attention with an upstretched arm, I waved them over to the table and stood to embrace the old man. Embarassed to kiss him in this public place, I pulled away, shaking his hand as he introduced me to his wife.
"Gene, this is Alicia..."
I assured her of the pleasure and embraced her somewhat awkwardly. She excused herself immediately to the ladies' room and as I ordered up three drafts in sign language, I buzzed my appreciation into Dad's ear.
"She's beautiful."
Dad grinned. A good start.
As the two of us sat at the table, Sparrow excused himself, and as Alicia rejoined us, I caught sight of Jocko climbing in amongst the stools, standing tall on the bar rail and stretching his neck to seek me out. I avoided eye contact but could feel the chill of recognition, but finding me with this strange couple he could not know, he left without touching the glass Jimbo had just poured him. What a wasteful fellow. I knew he wouldn't bother to come over, or ask. He'd leave pissed and confused, wondering where to continue his search.
Jimbo's rock and roll was reaching the volume he held back for crowd control and a brawl was breaking out around the pool table when Dad suggested that maybe there was a better place for us to talk. Even I was beginning to feel uncomfortable sitting with these poor outsiders and suggested we pick up a six-pack on my tab and a retreat to my place. Jimbo cooperated and I met Dad and Alicia at the door.
"You'll have to bare with me to get the show on the road. The Falcon's a mess. No starter. I got to get it rolling down this hill towards the store so that I can get her started up on compression. Maybe you could give me a hand, Dad, and then you and Alicia can follow me on home."
With my father pushing his considerable weight against the trunk and myself giving a heave at the door, we got the thing rolling, and, as I jumped in, I could see Sparrow beaming at us through the tavern window under the neon beer sign and finally crumble, laughing his fool ass off.
Dad's showboat, a new leased polished black Mercedes, somehow cleared the ruts up the old stagecoach road to my place. The Falcon collapsed where I usually left it, up the hill by the chicken coop where I could get a good enough run of it, get the thing sputtering to life again if I waited late enough in the day for the sun to warm her up good.
As the Mercedes scraped in below, I began to feel a little sorry for the guy. Here's his new lady being introduced to his lunatic son whose quiet country retreat homestead looks like the aftermath to the Rape of Sheeba. The aluminum empties had overflowed the trash cans a month ago and the damned coons had dragged their mess out across the yard to enjoy their feast. Paper and garbage everywhere. I hastened to try and explain the situation to Alicia as she got out of the car, my father still rummaging through the back seat for his portable bar.
"You see, it's all rather a renegade camp since Ann left."
"Why do you stay here?" she asked with overwhelming sincerity.
"It's my home."
"No, I mean, what are you hiding from?"
"You don't understand, Alicia, I'm not hiding out. This is where I'm living it out." But I had already caught in her inflection, her voice, her eyes, how much all of it dismayed her. How separate it all seemed from her real world. "I'd just be in jail if I had stayed in the city."
I popped a can of Jimbo's brew and averted Alicia's eyes as Dad made his way from his swank tank with his portable bar, a very respectable looking attache case, in tow.
"Can't say I see much improvement in this place since I was up last."
"No. You're right. Everything sort of hit a standstill since Ann left. I did get a cabin built. A little one just for sleeping. Come see, it's sorta cool. Like a tea room. It's hidden in the redwood grove over there so the building code people can't find it. You can't believe the hassle."
They followed me down the path to the minuscule cabin I had been working on. Still unfinished, there were great open sores of tarpaper showing where the siding still had to go up. Lots of empty beer cans laying around to prove I had been working there on and off.
"It isn't much, but it should keep me warm through the winter."
Alicia smiled. "I think it's cute, Gene. It's really remarkable what you can do with so little."
"That's the story, Alicia."
We fumbled around, found the words getting harder and made our way out of the dark grove and back into the sun.
"What are you two doing up this way anyway?"
"Well, we just decided to take a camping trip. Alicia's never really been camping and I thought it was time."
It was then I caught it, the change. Last time I'd seen him he was begging off helping me shuffle my old washer a few feet. He'd been given his life back. Or given it back to himself. Whatever, he hadn't been out in a sleeping bag in ten years.
"We stopped at the state park before we turned off the main highway and reserved a campsite, but maybe it would be alot more fun to just camp here, cook up a meal and have a good time."
I felt it then, again. The flash tinge of the inevitable fatal heart attack. Jocko was already overdue for his stopby.
"Ah... sounds good, Dad, but I think we might be a little uncomfortable here, ah, as... well, you see, I'm in a rather strange situation right now as, you see, I've become very involved with this very, very good friend and, well, her husband is very likely to show up here any time now, and the truth is, I'd just rather not run into him right now, I, ah, just wouldn't feel comfortable, so maybe if we headed back toward the campground we would feel a little more at ease."
Dad let a smile crack as he filtered my stammering and I felt a little less the toad. And thankful to be off the hook.
"Sure, Gene. Why don't we just pick up some hot dogs and whatever and just head over there to the state park if that'll make you feel bettter."
"Great. But... ah... you see this very good friend is sort of in hiding up the hill always and I'm supposed to find her so to at least let her know what's happening and ah... what do you think, would it be all right if she came along?"
"Sure, Gene. You go find your friend and Alicia and I will wait here and have a drink."
"Ah.. could I borrow your car, Dad?"
"Sure, Gene."
Pulling up past the tavern again, on up into the grade towards Jacey's, I flicked on the country western station out of Ukiah, dug on Merle Haggard as the Mercedes glided up past the turn off to Carruthers' place and on to the gravel. The world had turned mad for sure, Wild Goose flashed out in this luxury beast going to find his lady. I lit a joint of Carruthers' weed, fell back into the lushness of the bucket seat as I caught sight of Jocko's beat out Plymouth rounding the turn, racing ahead of his own cloud of gravel dust. Secure in my disguise, this strange expensive luxury car, I waved a sweet hello in his direction. Though preoccupied, he caught it and gave me a his momentary glance of recognition and I realized how much further this apparition must have confused him and as I spied upon him vanishing from my rear view mirror I caught my own goofy grin and felt suddenly quite vulnerable and shuddered.
I parked the Mercedes at the old mill at the top of the ridge over next to the old green chain, nothing now but a pile of old gearing and corrugated tin so that if Jocko had somehow caught my smirk and turned around to follow he would still have little clue as to my whereabouts. Crossing the road and looking back, the Mercedes framed with all the debris of the old mill backdropped by the fantastic skyscape of the mountain ridges running west to meet the coast, it all seemed a perverse vision from Advertising Age, a final turnabout that was going to set all things right, however that might be. It was the weed and the high off the brew and the adrenalin pump that kept the smile on and got me dancin' across the gravel and down the path, stompin" through the blackberries and around to Jacy's where I could see her out by the tub catching the last of the rays, stretched out in the weed grass still reading her astrology and, no doubt, figuring it all out.
I snuck up the last twenty-five yards like a kid playing indian and was actually bent over her before she sensed me and looked up with a start to find me ginning down on her.
"Gene, you scared me!"
"It's all gone bananas, a zoo!"
Her face immediately distorted into a concerned frown of desppair.
"Jocko?"
Gene laughed.
"Nah, better than that. My Dad!"
"What?"
"Yeah, he's shown up with his new wife and they want to take us off on a short adventure. They want to go set up tent at the campgrounds over at the State Park and actually... it would make a pretty good hide out. A lot safer for sure than staying around here. C'mon. They really want to meet you. They've really got a sense of humor about it, how about you?"
"Oh, Gene." she replied unconvinced.
"C'mon, they'll like you."
"I just wanted to hide out here and get peaceful and sleep and just forget about it all for awhile."
"Come on. It's just a mad movie. You're one of the stars, for christ's sake. The show can't go on without you."
"Gene..."
"It's okay."
"You run into Jocko?"
"Sort of. He came into Jimbo's just after I ran into my Dad and the sight just further confused him. Not to worry."
"Oh."
"Come on. It's ok. I just passed him going down the grade as I was coming up here and he didn't figure a thing or he would have followed me."
"Ok.."
"What the hell, Les. We'll just let the events carry us. It lets us off the hook. It gets us out of here and safe."
"Ok."
I hurried her up getting her purse feeling the heat of the pursuit. Took her hand and lightly tugged her up the trail to the old mill. Suddenly she came to a halt and surveyed the scene, dismayed.
"Where's the Falcon?"
I pointed out the Mercedes hidden in the shadows across the gravel, grabbed her hand and danced her across the road.
"I told you we'd be goin' places once we got started."
Pumping back down the grade, I turned the country western back up and let my hand slip into her lap.
"Oh Gene, this is insane..."
"It'll be interesting."
"What's she like?"
"Alicia?"
"Is that her name?"
"Yeah. She seems good. It looks like my Dad really feels alive again. Like what you're doin' for me. We all got our lives excited again."
Coming down the big bend, I could see through the twists ahead to the small flat of the valley below and spied the familiar Plymouth flying toward us.
"You won't believe..."
"Jocko!" she exclaimed psychically.
"Yeah. Heading up right now. Just get down."
"Oh christ."
"Just get your head down. Get down in my lap. You can give me a blow job while you're down there.."
She didn't laugh but scrunched down on the seat and lay her head in my lap. I smoothed her hair back and waved again as the Plymouth roared past, still not sure if he had a clue that it was actually me steering the high classed wheels.
"It's ok sweet, it's a minor Armageddon really, just a last day for our old time lives."
"No, Gene. It's just the moon in Scorpio."
Pulling the Mercedes through the last ruts of the old stagecoach road, Les and I could make them out, sitting with the attache case bar with the lid up between them on the front steps of the old shakemakers' cabin that served as our communal cookhouse. The plastic bag of store bought ice lay somewhat deflated at their feet. Through the windshield we had framed them in a toast to each other. Dad's highball glass was raised out in front of him in salutation as Alicia, wine glass cradled against her breast, bent an attentive ear.
"See. It's a launch. They're already off. It's going to be a party."
Les slid off the seat, grabbed her coat and bag out of the back seat and plunged on in, out the door and into the yard. I caught up to her by the time she had made it to the big tree and we greeted them together with a wave, went over and said hello. We immediately took the edge off by consuming ourselves in the last minute details involved in packing for our hastily planned expedition. I would have to get my pillows and the two sleeping bags and the extra blankets which made up my nest in my unfinished cabin. I got the trunk open and started shuffling the stuff in. Dad supervised the packing. Alicia and Les sipped wine under the big tree and philosophized on our progress and other matters of immediate importance.
"I'll get the good cast iron pan from the cookhouse and I've got a good incinerator grate if we need it."
"They've got grates on the grills, I'm sure, but Christ, Gene, don't forget the butt wipes!"
"Right on, Dad."
I trotted over to the cookhouse and got the last of it, found the T.P., remembered to pick up a number of forks and spoons and the knife. The raccoons had really done a job of it and I realized I hadn't cooked a real meal in there for weeks.
We got everything snug in the trunk and Dad got into the passenger seat up front carefully slipping the portable bar onto the seat next to him. Alicia climbed in to drive. Les and I fell into the back seat and we took off, harm's way disappearing at last into the dust behind us.
As we hit the pavement at the main road, the ride smoothed immediately and Dad took his risk, put the bar case in his lap and snapped the lid, offered Les a glass of Alicia's Claret. I popped another can of brew from the six pack I was protecting and Dad sloshed some soda water over his Scotch and ice. Alicia thoughtfully took it slow, and the fine luxury car could as well have been a grand Pullman car gliding us across the expanse of the Great Northwest.
"We're running the same route as the old logging railroad originally made it over the mountain. You can see some of the ties still laid out over there by the creek. There used to be tent cities along here where two thousand loggers would soak out the winter. A dozen bars, thirteen whorehouses. The whole bit. You can really feel it when you walk these woods. The whole place is haunted."
As I finished the spiel we came up over the ridge and slowly drifted through the long curve past the turnoff to Rector's commune where Deed and Jocko and the rest were still working on their shacks. I stretched a glance to see if Jocko might me pulled off there waiting for a clue, but the turnout was empty save for a lone turkey buzzard perched atop the monster gate post waiting for some poor skunk to get it on the pavement. I found Les's hand and gave it a squeeze. Found her ear.
"We're safe."
Past this last outpost, it was a free run to Anderson Valley and the campground. It was time.
"Dad? Could I have a sip of that Scotch?"
The campground was a circus, a midway in full swing. Little kids on bikes and skateboards race down the pavement paths separating the big camper rigs parked in stalls ignoring the screeching of hollering mamas and papas trying to pull off some evening order. We found our campsite. The site number carved in the upright 4x4 matched our reciept. We parked the best we could to block ourselves off from the roadway and packed the shit out. Almost dark, Les got the kerosene lamps together and lit as Alicia set the food out on the redwood picnic table, mixed drinks as Dad and I got a fire going in the small rock bar-b-que pit that came with the price of admission. As dark fell, the kids began to settle down and the evening slowly isolated us into the solitude of our island. Only the glow of a fire off in the mists or the hiss of a Coleman lamp to remind us how very in the midst of humanity we were. How much easier in a way to be in these unfamiliar yet extremely neutral and very public surroundings, be not so very different from the rest of them seeking a bit of privacy in the woods. On the land, at my place, we would already be into it, most likely at each other's throats, stuck in our own spotlights. What pleasant disaster a love affair can turn around.
We ate our hot dogs. Shovelled our beans from plastic cups. Laughed a lot and kept the conversation light. When Alicia asked Les about Jocko, I was curious myself, but she was circumspect and would only cop to a lingering fondness without providing the details Alicia and I craved. What scandal could we create if we put our minds to it. We were both rather renegade couples, it seemed, afterall. At least by all the standards my father had always professed to while serving as patriarch to me and all my sibs. But now, this relationship Les and I held for the moment seemed no further out of place than this adventurous second marriage. Afterall, why had none of us, my brothers or sisters, been invited to the wedding?
The bottle of Scotch stood a third empty by the time we got on kitchen patrol and started burning the paper plates. The brighter light cast from the fire seemed to illuminate the picnic table like a theatre set. Suddenly it seemed there was no time left. Everything needing to be said was aching for this particular moment, this one opportunity. Dad and I hadn't gotten into it for years. The last some battering argument over any possible merit in Castro's revolution. A night both of us stomped away. Always, from that night, my mother had made a point to step between us whenever the fragile peace between us might be broken or either of us sought to cause the other pain. So we had never really gotten to it. The classic, mythic father-son drunk debacle resolve. Since, I had always been somewhat envious when friends' would descibe that fine first punch from one's old man when things had finally gone past the limit and one or the other had pushed that final button letting it all come loose. Somehow Dad and I had grown past it without noticing. He was no longer being held responsible as the family man and I had gone mad to other issues long ago. We gave it our best though. Stirred the ashes. Built up a short flame out. I bitched about the relationships he had interfered with, how he had sabotaged my hopes of attending that far too liberal little college back east and manipulated me into the alma mater. Deep primal stuff. He went on about the dope, the faded marriages and how I'd never paid him back those bucks he put up for that little sports car I desimated while trying to finish school. What a bizarre pile of shit to bring up on the table. The ludicrousness of the situation could not escape either of us or help but leave its small sadness. These odd issues from the past had once stirred a great passion between us and now we had become somehow impotent. We made our attempt though. Raised our voices and held back a few tears. Then we dug the grave deep and buried the hatchet, battered handle and all.
Recovered, we drew back from each other where we had been almost nose to nose across the table. I finally noticed Les sitting away from me at the end of the bench totally bored and staring off into the starlight. Alicia made an appearance out of the darkness and tried to rekindle our interest but neither of us would take the bait, somehow satiated if nonetheless unfufilled. Finally we all coped to it and headed for the bags, but my adrenalin pump was still kicking on so hard just under the surface that I was on Les's ear for hours whispering stories from my childhood, strange father tales, until he himself called out across the darkness for us to "Shhhhhh!" just as he had so many years before to myself and my brothers and sisters while camping out near Yellowstone forest. And looking up I saw that very same sky, those very same stars, and I fell asleep happy having made love in a very new way.
We got up in the morning, certainly not the first, but hours too early to say the least. Suffered our hangovers with eggs and coffee, small fine sausage. Cleaning up while Dad was taking a shit, Alicia spoke to me smiling.
"He really loves you, you know. You really keep him interested."
"I can imagine. The very baffling case..."
"No, really Gene. There's a lot of love in there."
"I know. Really. I've got a lot of love in here. We's all very lovin' folk. Just stubborn, that's all."
"Well, you should let him know some time."
"I try, Alicia. I really do."
Driving back towards home it was very much that, too. A virtual love fest. A strange hungover quiet interrupted with little bursts of story from each of us reminding us of the times we had cared mucho big time. How many times had he thrust himself into my life as unexpectedly as he had just this very week-end?
"One surprise visit I particularly remember, Alicia, was during the year of my big drop out. I was 19 and I was living in Back Bay Boston to be with my girlfriend 'cause the family was back in California again after our time in Connecticut. Anyway, I'm holed up in this slum getting streetwise educated, in my tenement room. There's this heroin lady draped across my bed and this great black boogie player playing cards with some representatives from the local S and M clique. A couple of guys who are calling themselves "private detectives" because they carry guns. My girl friend who was, is certainly till, a fine artist and this gay live model from her art college at Boston University. Anyway, a very strange and enlightening crew. There's a knock on the door and I go to answer and of course it's Dad. He's taken time off from a business trip East to satisfy my mom who had begged him to check in and see if I might be ready to be heading home. My poor girl friend just freaked. She had met my Dad when we were dating in high school and the scene was just too much. She hid in the bathroom and cried her eyes out. But Dad was just so beautiful. I brought him on into the one room apartment knowing nothing else to do, and proceeded to introduce him around. He shook hands with everyone, so non paused I couldn't believe it. Then he motioned me aside, invited me to dinner later and split. I had to laugh, but it was so beautiful. It's a perfect example of what I've always thought "class" was really all about. At least we can count on each other for the acts of hard grind etiquette when it counts."
And we laughed and fell quiet and watched the trees grow as they sped past.
Dad broke the silence. "And where are you from, Les?"
"Well, I was born in Maine, but most of the time I was in Cuba...until the revolution."
"You must have seen interesting times."
Alicia has always sworn to the gun, and I have yet to convince her that one never did appear. Anyway, it would have been a perfect set-up for such for sure. When we got to the turn off onto the stage coach road, the turn to my place, we saw the Plymouth immediately. Whether he had stayed there the night, I'll never know, but he made us out easily this time, crushing hands in the back seat.
"Well, that's him."
"Who?" Alicia questioned looking back.
"Da husband in da matter."
"Oh..." and she turned away and redirected her gaze forward down the road. "Is it going to be all right?"
"I doubt I'll get shot, but there's going to be scene." I peeped up.
We pulled in close to the cookhouse and got out. Jocko stayed back a bit, then pulled his Plymouth over to the side of the road next to the big tree. Les thankfully hung back with the car as Alicia, Dad and I carried the pans and lamps back on towards the cookhouse. Glancing back I could see Jocko heading for the sleeping house and Les following him for the conference. Putting the stuff down on the doorstep the three of us faltered for words in the dust.
"Really Gene, is everything all right?"
"Don't worry Alicia, we're all friends. It's just a weird form of incest that breeds in this valley. Nothing's really happening. Relax."
"Okay." she responded unable to stop herself from peeking over her shoulder uneasily. We all stood there enduring the ackward moment in silence when Dad finally let it end easily.
"Well Gene, I thinks it's time for us to hit the road. We got a long drive home, but it's been great."
"Really Dad, we should get together more often. Maybe at an easier time. But really, it was great camping out with you two. It was a great rip."
We grabbed the moment and each other. Enjoyed a warm if uneasy hug and I gave him a little kiss on the cheek.
"You too Alicia, it's been beautiful. We'll have to get together in the city."
I embraced her and kissed her tenderly on the lips. It was a brief sweet touch, not sexual or intrusive, but still private and personal. I let my eyes rest on hers another short moment as we pulled apart. "You two take good care now." And I waved good-bye as they got in the Mercedes, backed it around and got it and them back on the road.
What a sideshow! Back in the cookhouse, turning my back on the continuing mediations between Les and Jocko, I fumbled about cleaning up after my bastard coon friends, but gave up soon enough, frazzled, just too blown away to really care. I got out the shoebox, sifted through the seeds and stems and rolled myself a slender skinny one and sat in the doorway to watch the big tree grow while the breeze blowed. Through the swaying branches I could see a dust clould building up like a litte tornado down at the turn-off. As she rattled over the loose plank bridge at the property line I could see it was Deed behind the wheel in her shades and I had to smile. She parked, climbed out and started towards me in an exaggerated hurried step so that even from the distance I could share all her pent up anxiety.
"Jocko's here?" she called out as she maneuvered her way through the mine field of my trashed yard. "Where's Les? I tried to warn you..."
I smiled and lit the joint.
"It's ok Deed. Sit down. They're in the sleeping house negotiating. None of this is your fault. In fact, we've all just returned from a small adventure. You see, my Dad showed up out of nowhere and we're been camping and..."
I told Deed the story in detail and she had to let out a chuckle herself but then the two of them startled us into silence as they reappeared suddenly in the yard heading for their Plymouth. Jocko kept his eyes averted as he strode on toward the car and I almost lost it, just wanted to turn away and escape back inside when Les stopped, started forward and then caught herself, tears running down.
"I'm going to Maine... But I'll be back."
She turned and went to the car. I climbed back inside the cookhouse like a crab into it's shell, pretended to find something important to rearrange on the boookshelf where I could still watch them from the window and follow their dust as they left.
Deed and I talked about it, chuckled about it and almost wept. Got a bottle of wine and drank on it. Wound up finally on the possibility of art.
I found them two days later upon returning from the store with a little sixer and my daily allotment of Kools. Two huge suitcases packed to the bursting point for the trip to Maine. The floor half swept with the broom standing against the door. I found her down by the creek gathering water. He had told her to come for two weeks, try it, then she would flee the madness and return for sure. She stayed much longer. We almost made it.
Peter Black
(c) 1974