Twenty Two

 

1974

Maurianne was up when I awakened. It is very unusual for me to sleep later than someone else. Typically, I am a very early riser, even when I go to sleep late, or have had an exhausting day. But there she was in the kitchen trying to stay quiet moving about my sleeping self on the couch.

She said she would fix us breakfast but had almost nothing in the house, so she asked if I wouldn’t mind going to the grocery for a few items.  She started to give me money, but I told her that after she saved me from a charged wire in Utah and drove me close to 750 miles I could spring for eggs, bread and milk.  

Pacifica, as the name suggests, is right on the Pacific Ocean and this grocery was only about 50 yards from a beach, not more than a half mile from Maurianne’s home.  I bought the eggs, milk, bread and a sweet treat from a bakery section.  It was a charge to see Jack Daniels and all forms of alcohol on display next to the animal crackers and boxes of Cheerios.  In New York groceries could carry beer but the hard stuff was sold in dedicated liquor stores.  Not in Pacifica. Pick up a liter of Johnny Walker, the pancake mix, and a Hershey bar on your way out.

Maurianne made breakfast and we sat around schmoozing over it and coffee for the entire morning.  She and I had become fast friends in 24 hours so much so that she offered to lend me her car to drive out to my aunt who lived in Santa Rosa about 60 miles away.  She said she didn’t need it for the next few days.  I am not sure if I would have taken her up on this largesse even if I could have driven a stick.  Still it was a kind gesture and I gratefully thanked her. 

She brought up Shel and Barbara again. 

“In Elko. Something about that visit with Barbara was not good. Something was not good. Something was off.”

“I didn’t sense anything.”

“What about the kid neighbor?” Said Maurianne.

“I thought nothing of it until you mentioned that Barbara thought there was an affair going on.”

“An affair? Hah. You call it an affair?”

“Well, you’re not even sure if it was anything going on, but if there was...I mean what do you call it.”

“I call it taking advantage of a kid. I call it pissing on your wife and rubbing her face in it.”

“Barbara wasn’t sure.”

“Something wasn’t right. The kid seemed surprised when she saw us. Then got fidgety. And it was like the visit was planned.”

“She would have been surprised seeing us.” I said. “We don’t live there. What do you mean like the meeting was planned?”

“Mail is delivered on Saturday. Why didn’t she bring the mail over on Saturday?”

“Maybe her mother didn’t mention it to the daughter until Sunday.”

“Well, why didn’t the mother bring it over?”

“Could be lots of reasons.”

“No.” said Maurianne. “Barbara was supposed to be away.  At that meeting she was supposed to attend. She didn’t go because I called.  Shel could have told the tattooed kid that the coast was going to be clear.”

“I guess that’s possible.”

“And what’s with that bathing suit top.” 

“It was hot. Maybe the kid was sunbathing or going swimming later.”

“Maybe.  Maybe just showing off that tattoo.”

“It was hot.”

“It was hot, alright. I told you about my brother didn’t I?”

The shift to the brother seemed like a non sequitur. “Your brother? All you said was that he, like you, was angry at your dad. He, even angrier. What’s that got to do with Shel and the kid?”

“Nothing. Never mind. Forget about my brother.”

“I can listen.”

She waved her arm.  “Never mind. Not important. You’re leaving.”

"Try me."

Then I heard a bit about her brother.  Like the beginning of Anna Karenina. Every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.

Maurianne drove me to a road in Pacifica where she thought I’d have a good chance of getting a lift and dropped me off.  She gave me a piece of paper with her phone number on it in case I needed a place to stay in San Francisco. We hugged more meaningfully than I had with Becca forty years later.  I started getting some ideas about maybe Maurianne being someone I could have gotten to know beyond a hitch-hiking companion, but I’ll never know since I did not see her in the flesh again.  

I told her good luck with her kids and family.  She thanked me and gave me a little kiss before turning away abruptly.  She got back in her car pointed in the direction where I had to go and waved goodbye-a stiff wave, what in another context could have passed for a salute--while driving away.

I was back again on the road looking for a ride. I was not standing long before a young couple, probably not out of their teens, stopped and drove me all the way over the Golden Gate Bridge.  I started singing, “Open up that Golden Gate, California Here I come” as we drove over. The couple laughed at me.  

“You’re excited for an older guy.” Said the girlfriend; her head was facing mine having turned around in the passenger seat using her knee as a pivot.

Older guy. Now I am an older guy. Then I was a not yet 25 year old--and I knew from nothing.