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.