PFK1 (42 page)

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trampled on by other people I hardly get upset about it anymore. Still,

I had to protest.

"You are fucking a snoop," I said. "You are no better than the other

one," I said. "Goddamnit."

"No, I am a lot better than her. I only poked into your stuff for

entertainment purposes. She read it to use it against you. She pulled

underhanded tricks to manipulate you. She was dirty. She kept

seeing her old boyfriend on the sly while demanding that you profess

your love to her. The woman had no integrity, Patrick. None. That

letter she wrote to you about her abortion was unbelievably cruel.

What sort of man do you suppose a woman like her will end up with?

Hmmm? What’s your guess?"

"I don’t know. Probably some chump," I said.

"That’s right. It will be some chump with a checkbook and nothing

else. Not that she’s going to get anything for free. I’m sure there will

always be a transaction. She even called him ‘parsimonious’ in a

letter herself, didn’t she?"

I said nothing. It was true.

Nick laughed a little before going on, adding:

"That’s great because that is what she deserves. For her, the

checkbook will always be the main attraction. She is the big loser.

I’ve been around you, man. When you are on, you are on. You are

smart and funny and hip and really care about people. When you are

here, everybody parties and has a good time. You are the life of the

party, Patrick. You are the fucking party. People dig you. Women

really dig you. Even people who don’t want to dig you end up

digging you. You are totally cool."

"Thanks, but I don’t see what it has to do with anything."

"See? See? There’s another part of your charm. I honestly don’t

think you understand how cool you are. You’ve got it all going for

you, dammit. Don’t be so blue. Megan loves you and she is yours for

the asking. And it is obvious you are in love with her. If you wanted

to hurt her back, you’ve done that but good. You’ve way overdone it,

in my opinion. She’s freaked. But there is no quarrel, my friend. It is

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over. You’ve won her heart. Don’t throw it away. Go with the

flow."

"Megan isn’t the only woman in the world," I said.

Nick wrinkled his nose, frowning.

"Okay, I just thought of something else," he said. "Remember

where you wrote in your diary that if you ever got angry or frustrated

with someone you loved you’d give them a second chance? Do you

remember? I think you wrote it right after your trip to see that other

dame in 1976. I thought it was such a great line. The perfectly

described lesson learned. But are you doing what you said you would

do? Doesn’t seem like it to me."

I hadn’t thought about writing that line for a long time. But Nick

was correct. I had written it. I clearly remembered putting it down.

"You’ve read that?"

Nick took a puff on his cigarette, nodding. "Yes, and you’ve got to

distinguish between a normal romantic shakeout and a mind fuck.

What the other one pulled was a mind fuck. With Megan, you’ve

experienced a normal romantic shakeout. There is a big difference.

Do you always want to be lonely and unhappy? Don’t you want to

win someday?"

I looked at Nick. I couldn’t think of anything to say. He was right

and I suddenly realized he was right.

Puffing on his cigarette, Nick laughed and gave me a look of smug

self-satisfaction. Older than me by five years and shorter by five

inches, Nick has bright green eyes, and curly brown hair, and the

impishness of a Leprechaun.

A sneaky little Leprechaun fuck.

All of a sudden I didn’t feel very much like leaving town anymore.

Nick was right. Dammit. I was deliberately making myself unhappy,

just like always. All the anger I felt towards Megan suddenly drained

out of me.

I felt foolish and ashamed of myself.

"What should I do now?" I asked.

"Make up with Megan. Tell her you’re sorry for being such an ass.

Tell her that you love her."

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"Right now?"

Nick thought about it for a moment. "Tell her tonight when she

comes over."

"What should I do in the meantime?"

"Unpack your shit. And then let’s stoned and drunk. Let’s get

really fucked up. Call the office. Tell them you need to take the rest

of the day off. Then we’ll get really wasted."

"Shouldn’t you be going back to work?"

"It’s nothing I can’t put off," Nick said.

I got on the phone and spoke to the boss. I told her I had a bad

burrito at lunch and wasn’t feeling so hot. The boss said she would

mark the calendar and pass the message to Megan.

Holy cow! For the rest of the afternoon I was now free as a bee!

Nick got his bong out of the closet and asked if I had any my special

African weed left.

"A couple of buds," I said.

"Ooooh yeah. A couple of buds. Perfect."

We got really stoned. Later Nick broke out his bottle of Chivas

Regal and started telling me about this Eurasian chick named Fianne

he fell in love with in Bangkok during the war. I only half listened, as

I had heard the story many times before. Fianne was both nicer and a

better fuck than Clarice, from what I have gathered.

The Chivas Regal hit me like a ton of bricks. Wham. I started

thinking about the years I spent at Jesus, Mary, and Joseph Catholic

School. What a fucking bum trip that was. Marching in lockstep.

Uniforms. Catholic bullshit. Taught to obey orders, no matter how

insane.

After a while, I saw tears running down Nick’s cheeks. The

inevitable climax to the Fianne story. I put aside my thoughts of

Catholic school as Nick went on a crying jag.

"I shoulda brought Fianne back home," he wailed. "I wanted to

take her with me but I figured that people would treat her like shit

back in Peoria."

"On account of her being half Siamese?" I said.

Nick nodded.

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"They probably would have," I said.

Nick nodded again, paused, and then started shaking his head

slowly back and forth, like my old man used to do. "That’s why you

gotta get back together with Megan," he rasped. "It is such a tiny

thing and you stand to gain so much."

"Now why should I get back with Megan?" I asked, playing devil’s

advocate. I already had my mind made up but I wanted to hear it

anyway. "Explain it to me again," I said.

"Because you are the one that needs her, my friend. You need her

bad. Have you by any chance considered what you stand to gain at

this point? Have you ever thought seriously about it?"

"What do you mean?"

An amused gleam appeared in his boozy leprechaun eyes. I

thought he was drunk but maybe not, because that’s when he sprung

the clincher.

"If you patch it up with her now and put it all behind you, I figure

you’re probably in line for some of the best sex you’ve ever had, my

friend. There’s nothing like making up after a lover’s quarrel to get a

woman’s juices flowing. Works like a charm. Mark my words."

Of all the things Nick had said, that may not have had the most

immediate and powerful impact, but it was right up there. I mean

before, when we were doing it, I could sense Megan was still kind of

holding back. Kind of.

Maybe Nick was on to something here.

"So what if we do get back together? What then?"

Nick grinned. "Name the baby after me."

* * * *

March 19, 1979

Practically a whole lifetime has passed since I decided to stay in

town. Megan and I have made up and I think things will be okay from

here on out. We took some psilocybin mushrooms to celebrate our

reconciliation and really grooved together. When the mushrooms

were at their peak, Megan kissed me and said we must leave our

problems in the past and act as though we were meeting each other for

the very first time.

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"Think of it this way," Megan said. "This is our own special life

from now on. It belongs to you and me alone. Everything that

happened before was an introduction. From this moment forward, we

are reborn."

"Yeah, I like that," I said. "We are reborn."

On the mushrooms, Megan acquired a deeply magnetic aura, tinged

ever so strangely golden. Her eyes stood out like saucers, shaded a

blue patina I think is aquamarine in color.

"I love you," I said.

"And I love you," Megan answered.

We sat on the sofa in the living room, in front of the fireplace,

listening to music, looking at each other. She wore this long-sleeved

green turtleneck sweater and tight blue jeans.

She looked so goddamned fucking beautiful in that warm,

flickering firelight. As the mushrooms started to wear off, we stood

up and danced to the music of Nick’s Boz Scaggs record. Silk

Degrees.

Once the mushrooms faded completely, we headed upstairs to bed.

However, we did not sleep. We spent hours making love. I cannot

explain how erotic and wonderful it was, not in mere words. Suffice

it to say that everything I’ve ever wanted in a lover Megan supplied in

overwhelming abundance.

It was pure heaven.

When the sun came up in the east, I felt the best I have ever felt in

my entire life, waking up with Megan in my arms.

We will be together for the rest of our lives.

Megan wants to plant a garden in Nick’s yard. He has these raised

beds he hasn’t used in years.

We should make things grow, Megan says. She intends to plant

tomatoes, corn, cucumbers, lettuce, radishes, leeks, zucchini, and all

kinds of herbs. I’m going to help.

Making love to Megan after two months apart was absolutely mind-

bending. Omigod. Everything I like and more.

Throughout, she was the most passionate and uninhibited lover you

could imagine. She tells me what she wants me to do and how to do

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it. Then Megan says what she wants me to do and makes me do it.

She is inventive and handles me expertly.

Truly an experience beyond words.

Nick was right.

I must stop briefly to adjust my briefs, for I am once again

developing an erection, just thinking about Megan.

Okay. Done.

And do I ever love lavishing affection on her sweet, beautiful,

slender, multi-orgasmic little bod! My tongue and cock were plumb

wore out afterwards and I think there may be these X’s where my eyes

used to be. I am in paradise.

Meanwhile, I feel the need to get healthy. Drink less, smoke less

dope. Concentrate my energy on my relationship with Megan and my

work.

Also keep dreaming about moving to Portland to run for the

legislature. As much as the job itself, I yearn for the adventure of

running for an elective office, of trying to get myself elected. It seems

like such a thrill.

Solitude wears me down. Writing is fun, but it estranges you from

others.

Megan and I spent this morning at Sutton Beach, sunning

ourselves. She had on her little white bikini and seeing her in that

skimpy outfit gave me a hard on a cat couldn’t scratch.

It was unusually warm for March, but with a breeze that came in

from the ocean. Man, I love the fucking coast. Josie’s church group

is visiting her in Heceta Beach, so Megan’s been staying with me at

Nick’s.

We had a great time at the beach. The sun felt good. It’s been a

long, dark, cold winter. No one was around so we did it in the dunes

behind the campground. Jesus, that knocked me out.

Megan is so hot hot hot. Incredible. I can’t fucking believe I

almost walked out on her. I’m sure glad Nick talked me out of it.

What a guy.

273

Later on, we drove up to Depoe Bay, looked at books and had a

nice lunch. The Channel Book Shop has this swell collection of old

Dashiell Hammett paperbacks.

I bought three of them, including Nightmare Town. All three have

these old Dell map picture backs. I also bought an ancient Raymond

Chandler title –
Pick Up On Noon Street
, a volume of short stories.

They’re so cool. The bookstore cat they have there even seemed to

approve.

At the restaurant, I nudged Megan’s right foot with my big toe. She

slipped off her sandal and curled her foot around mine. We split a

glass of red wine and then took a walk on the beach. Offshore, we

could see gray whales blowing water spouts, as they swim to Alaska’s

Chukchi Sea with their new calves.