Fourteen

 

Fourteen

 

     I woke up Sunday with the personal determination to do something different from the day

 before and was quite relieved when E said we were all going out for breakfast and then to the

 pumpkin festival. I told her I was bringing my bag and after the pumpkin festival she could take

 me home. I would tell Mr. Long Beach that I was staying with a friend in the city on my final

 night of my visit. E asked if I could stay over one more night, but I told her I had to go to work

 the next day. She sulked for a while then got over it.

     We all piled into E’s car. Her and I were both wearing red, and Mr. Long Beach said he felt

 out of place. I told E to stop somewhere so he could buy something red to wear. He said never

 mind and sulked awhile then got over it.

     E said she was taking us to a local spot that served the best breakfast and as we parked across

 the street from the place, we were greeted by two muscle cars racing past us with one following

 the other. E knew the drivers and waved and when they turned around and met us I told both of

 them that I wanted a drag race and I wanted it now. They laughed and raced their engines. E

 leaned into the window of one of the cars and spoke to the driver which I could tell really

 bugged Mr. Long Beach. I slapped his shoulder and told him not to worry.

     E stepped over and joined us and both cars honored my request by squealing their tires and

 zooming off side by side. I stepped into the middle of the street so they could see me in their

 rear-view mirrors and gave them two thumbs up.

     I let Mr. Long Beach and E go into the restaurant before me and I could tell that he was

 asking her about the guy she spoke to who was driving the car and I could tell that she said

 something that only mildly put his mind at ease. He seemed badly bothered.

     There was a wait to get in. We all sat in the sun on the wooden bench outside and talked. I

 saw that there was coffee outside on a ledge complete with cups and sugar and crème. I told E

 that when I was homeless at least I knew where I could come to get coffee.

     After a while we went inside and ordered. I love Tabasco sauce and when my food arrived, I

 doused it like I normally do. Mr. Long Beach said he could smell it from his side of the table

 and that it made his eyes burn. E said she guessed some just like it hot and proceeded to douse

 her food with Tabasco sauce as well. I made short notice of my meal. I’m actually a very fast

 eater. It’s terrible. I really have to watch it and make an effort to pace myself if I’m eating with

 someone who actually takes the time to chew their food. Mr. Long Beach finished second and E

 hardly ate anything.

     We left the restaurant in a blaze of glory with E following the example of her hot-rodding

 buddies much to the distress of Mr. Long Beach and my delight.

     We exited the freeway and drove the small twisty turning country roads until we came to the

 pumpkin festival. There were pumpkins everywhere. They were piled in lots, along the

 entrances to businesses, and in the back of people’s cars.

     There was a little gift place she wanted to visit so we stopped. There was a petting zoo across

 the pumpkin patch behind the shop and I let them go inside while I stepped through the patch

 taking care to dodge the pumpkins. The petting zoo had some pigs, goats, and a couple horses

 you could pay to ride. I watched the kids petting the pigs and smiled. I thought about paying to

 ride one of the horses and slowly trotting down the road until I was out of the sight of the zoo’s

 curator and then galloping away. But I decided against it. I didn’t have my bag and really didn’t

 know if horse stealing was still a felony. Hung by the neck until dead. I can just see the sheriff

 passing judgement, stringing me up, while the locals took out their phones and snapped photos.

     I sat at a pic nic table back across the patch and smoked a cigarette. The lovebirds were still

 shopping, and I went in and found them talking over which bottle of wine to buy. I could have

 cared less. I left and sat on the car hood. Eventually they came out. I slid off the hood and stood

 next to the driver’s side fender. E showed me her choice of vino while pressing her knee against

 my shin. She handed me the bottle to examine and brushed her hand across my belly as she

 reached to take it back. I wondered if Mr. Long Beach had seen any of this. As we drove off, he

 tried to hold her hand. She pulled her hand away.

     Our next stop was in the small town that was hosting the pumpkin festival.

     Mr. Long Beach was a big surfer, so we went into this surf shop where I found a wet suit that

 I really liked. It was marked down in price which made it even more appealing. The only thing

 is I don’t surf. I couldn’t figure out when or where I could have actually worn the thing. Maybe

 on casual dress Fridays at work.

     The only other store worth mentioning that we visited was some new age place that had

 crystals, jewelry, and animal toys.  I bought a rubber Gecko and struck up a conversation with

 the cute White woman with nice hips working the register and she told me the Gecko was the

 item of the day. Apparently, they were quite popular, and she said she couldn’t understand why.

 I almost told her it was probably because it was the least expensive item in the place, at least

 that was why I bought it, but I instead told her that this weekend was actually celebrate the

 Gecko weekend and that was why she was selling so many. She couldn’t tell if I was kidding or

 not so when she asked really, I just smiled and left, waiting out front with a couple of Brown

 people on a small wooden bench for the lovebirds. Eventually they came out and showed me the

 crystals and jewelry they bought and then we walked back to the car and left.

     E wanted to show Mr. Long Beach one of my favorite spots from when we were kids and

 drove us along the coast stopping on the shoulder of the highway in front of a high metal gate.

 There was a sign that said no parking, I wrote a note on an envelope saying we were out of gas

 and put it on the windshield. E asked me if I remembered all the fun times we had at this place,

 and I told her of course I did, and we stepped down the hill and made our way around the gate

 and began climbing the deteriorated cement stairs that led up the hill to this old, rusted metal

 lookout tower. Apparently, it was used during the last world war to keep watch on the coastline

 for enemy attack. Mr. Long Beach mentioned something about being scared of heights and I

 pulled myself up and climbed the rungs that led to the top. You had to watch where you stood at

 the top because there were areas that were rusted through making holes in the flooring.

     E hollered that she was coming up and I stepped over to watch her as she climbed. Mr. Long Beach said he would be staying on the ground and neither of us tried to convince him otherwise.

     There was a tall tree growing up along the tower and it sheltered our view from the bottom.

 We hid in the branches and kissed. E laughed and whispered about how she couldn’t believe that

 we were actually getting away with everything and I just lost myself in her pretty face.

     We moved to where Mr. Long Beach could see us and leaned on the railing looking out at the

 ocean. It was beautiful. E mentioned that maybe we could have a pic-nic here sometime softly

 so Mr. Long Beach couldn’t hear, and I nodded thinking about how it would be great if we both

 suddenly turned into birds and just flew off over the cliffs.

     E stepped into the branches, and I followed. We kissed one more time before we made our

 way back down.

     Mr. Long Beach said he needed to go to the bathroom and to wait before heading back to the

 car which we did using the opportunity to enjoy another kiss. When he returned E called me Jim

 and asked me if the place was as cool as I remembered and I told her that it was.

     When we got to the car E removed the envelope note that I put on the windshield, and we

 headed to the city. I was to be dropped off at my friend’s where I would be spending my last

 night in town. E had her stereo blasting the soundtrack to one of the many nineteen seventies

 disco glorification movies that had been released that summer. She kept the volume up as we

 made our way into the city, which was kind of embarrassing, especially as we made our way

 along Mission Street. As we drove along, the Brown people standing or walking in front of

 stores and churches looked at us like we were intruders and I felt humiliated. After all this was

 where I lived, and this was the first time I had felt like I didn’t belong. E asked if we had time to

 go somewhere before she dropped me off at my friends and I told her I couldn’t hear her

 because the music was too loud. She turned it down and asked again and I said sure we could go

 somewhere, and I directed her to a bar on Sixteenth Street.

     We parked across the street from the police station in the bright sunshine and I said my friend

 brought me here the last time I was in the city, and I thought the place was pretty cool.

     Inside I found the Fringe Folks and I felt relieved. I sat the lovebirds down at a table near the

 back across from the pool table and got them each a beer. They looked extra White against the

 general unkemptness of my kind, and I wished I had sunglasses to cut their glare as I brought

 them their beers. Mr. Long Beach and E both called me Jim and told me thanks. E looked

 around at the multi- colored hammerhead shark and fliers of the local shows on the wall and told

 me she liked it here and scooted next to me in the booth. Mr. Long Beach had been more or less

 silent since we left the observation tower, but after a couple of beers he was inclined to tell E

 and her brother about his friends back home.

     Apparently, he and his friends showed their affection for one another through violence

 because he detailed several brutal fights they had with each other over the most trivial matters.

 After each story he laughed about the good-natured fun they had shared bloodying each other’s

 faces.

     I was stunned and told Mr. Long Beach that his buddies sounded like swell guys. E asked

 why she hadn’t been introduced to these gentlemen yet and he said she would. I could tell E was

 equally taken back by this revelation and she didn’t say anything for quite a while. She just

 looked at him while he accounted his merry adventures to me, oblivious to the actual horror of

 the situations. He stopped talking long enough to go to the bathroom and I noticed E was sitting

 very close to me. She muttered something and asked me to hold her hand which I did. When Mr.

 Long Beach returned, I challenged him to a game of pool. He was quite chipper. It seemed like

 relating his many friendly adventures had lifted his spirits.

     We played a couple games, and the lovebirds had a couple more beers. I couldn’t tell if Mr.

 Long Beach was a good loser or not. I intentionally played poorly in order for him to win and

 stay happy which he did. After our last game I noticed the lovebirds were both quite drunk and

 when Mr. Long Beach left to use the bathroom, E pulled off her tight sweater revealing an

 equally tight red tank top. I ran a finger along her ribcage and told her she should take the tank

 top off as well and she punched me very, very hard in the stomach saying incest wasn’t best. I

 let her be while I got my breath back and after several minutes rejoined the lovebirds at the

 table. I guess she wasn’t as drunk as I thought. Whatever anger attack she had sobered her up

 because she was now totally alert and able to drive. I told her it would be great if she took me to

 my friends.

     Mr. Long Beach was so happy it scared me. He held E’s hand and rocked it back and forth

 like a child on a hobby horse. E told me that it was a shame I hadn’t had a chance to visit

 Grandma since she wasn’t doing well, and I told her that I would call. The sun was very bright,

 and my stomach now ached almost as much as my head. I was quite relieved when E pulled up

 next to the deli with the mural near my home and let me out. I grabbed my bag and kissed Sis

 goodbye on the cheek and shook Mr. Long Beach’s hand telling him to stay out of trouble. He

 called me Jim one last time and I watched them speed off up the hill and heard E turn up the

 disco music as she stopped at an intersection letting a young Brown woman pushing a baby

 stroller cross the street.