by Randy Mixter
“No holes in here,” Sarah said to the inquisitive chicken. “You’re safe until Alex gets the impulse to go on a tickling frenzy. Then all bets are off.”
The warning turned out to be unnecessary. After a few minutes of exploration, Oswald squeezed into the small space between the cabinet and the wall and promptly went to sleep.
“It appears the kids have gone to bed,” Sarah said quietly as they hugged each other close. “Want to go on another adventure?”
Alex answered in a way appropriate to the question, and they left the sheet around them just in case a young one should wake.
The weather cleared on Friday, but the air was cool. Alex lent Sarah his jacket as they walked to the Japanese Tea Garden in the Golden Gate Park.
They drank tea and walked the humpbacked bridges through the gardens. Sarah said a prayer in the Zen Garden and Alex joined her in one at the Lantern of Peace.
In the afternoon, they went to the Conservatory of Flowers. They spent the remainder of the day in the immense glass structure.
“Now I know where you get the flowers for your hair,” he told her as they toured through acres of exotic plants and flowers from around the world.
They found the house in a somber mood upon their return. A friend from a nearby house offered Isis and Scarlett transportation in a van leaving Sunday for Washington.
“There is a large cooperative not far from Seattle that has accommodations for families. They have a school on the property and many children of Scarlett’s age for her to play with.” Isis said to the remaining houseguests as they sat at the dinner table.
She looked directly at Sarah and continued. “The adults are looking to organize into a society that promotes our causes to the community and eventually around the Northwest. And the children need someone to tell them stories at night before they go to sleep.”
“Starlight, starbright,” Scarlett said from her place next to her mother.
“First star I see tonight,” Sarah replied to her.
Scarlett smiled as children do when an adult understands them perfectly.
“Will you excuse us for a while?” Sarah stood and took Alex’s hand. “Alex and I are going for a walk.”
Night fell on them as they sat on the park grass. They were in each other’s arms, sharing their warmth, on a cool early September night. The breeze from the bay had the slightest trace of salt to it, even at this distance.
She looked at the night sky. One star shone bright near the horizon.
“The first star of the night,” she said. “It’s proper to make a wish.”
“I already did,” Alex replied and held her closer.
“I believe I’ll go with Isis and Scarlett on Sunday,” Sarah said, still looking at the bright star in the sky. “I believe that is for the best.”
Alex could not look at her. He did not know the exact rules on making wishes, but he took a chance and made a second one on the same star.
“I expect I’ll be crying a lot tonight and tomorrow,” she said as she rested her head, for perhaps the last time, on his shoulder.
“Prepare yourself for it.”
THE DAY ETERNAL
As it turned out, Sarah rested her head on his shoulder many times that night and the following day.
They walked around the community during the day on Saturday. In the evening, they journeyed to the Golden Gate Park and Sarah went a final time to the top of the hill to dance for her parents.
“They’ll follow me,” she said upon her return. “That’s what parents do.”
Sarah lit a fresh candle for their last night together. It seemed appropriate that Jezebel join them and she did. Oswald, however, was nowhere to be seen.
“Probably plugging a hole somewhere,” Sarah said, and, for the first time in hours, they smiled.
“Jezebel is coming with us,” she added. “And Cowboy is too, with Oswald of course.”
They lay down together on the sheet covered mattress they called their bed. On the ceiling, shadows danced.
“I hope this night lasts forever,” she said.
He held her close to him, as close as he possibly could.
“It will,” he whispered to her, then their lips met and no more words broke the stillness of the night.
They had a breakfast of corn flakes. It was the last meal they would share together. The house was as active as it had ever been in the before noon hours.
Chick and Belladonna packed their belongings in a suitcase they picked up at the Free Store. Chick told everyone within earshot how all his friends in the area bid their farewells and then proudly showed off several good-sized bags of cannabis.
“Enjoy it while you can Chick,” Belladonna said. “When the baby comes you’re going cold turkey.”
Chick grabbed Skip and Benny, who had both told Chick that morning they had decided to go with him and Belladonna to the commune, and headed for the porch.
“Smoke ’em if you got ’em,” he said to no one in particular, as he went out the door.
A short while later, Cowboy arrived at the house carrying a large cage.
“I hope they have room in the van for this. I had to go to a pet store five blocks away for it.”
“Oswald’s in the hole,” Chick yelled to him from the front porch.
Sometime, in the late afternoon, Sarah and Alex went into their room. Sarah removed her clothing from the cabinet drawers and folded them into a small suitcase. She took the picture of her parents, put it on top of her clothes, and placed the framed photograph of Alex, from the San Francisco Chronicle, on top of the other. She zipped the suitcase shut and turned to him.
“I want you to have this,” she said and placed something in his hand.
“Put it in your pocket. Save it for later.” She kissed him softly on the lips and then turned and picked up the lit candle.
“I think we should do this together.”
He put his arm around her and they faced the flame. And their joined breaths carried them into darkness.
Belladonna left first. Their van was two blocks away at the house of some friends. She told Chick to meet her there within the hour.
Before she said her goodbyes to the girls, she walked up to Alex.
“I realize we got off to a bad start,” she said to him in the lobby. “You turned out all right though.”
“So did you,” Alex replied.
They hugged and she whispered in his ear. “You didn’t lose her.” Then she moved to her friends for a tearful goodbye.
“Come on you two,” Belladonna said to Skip and Benny as she approached the door. “You can help me carry some of this stuff. It’s good practice for farm labor.”
They both looked to Chick who shook his head and shrugged them off. “Bella’s just looking out for your physical well-being, guys.”
“I wish she wouldn’t,” Skip replied as he hefted a large bag of clothing on his shoulder.
They both wished Alex good luck and reminded him one last time on the most effective way to thumb a ride as they left the house.
The van pulled up to the curb. Cowboy immediately ran to it and was promptly assured by the driver that there was ample room for Oswald in the vehicle’s rear.
Alex walked Sarah to the sidewalk. She turned and faced him. A gust of wind blew by; cool enough to cause her to shiver.
“Wait a minute,” he said, and ran back into the house. He returned a few seconds later carrying his jacket.
He draped it around her arms to keep her warm.
“Are you forgetting something?” Chick said from behind them.
They looked to see him holding Jezebel.
“Come here, Jez,” Sarah took the cat from Chick and wrapped her arms around her. “Us girls need to stick together.”
Cowboy sat in the passenger seat and Isis and Scarlett sat behind them. Isis strapped her daughter into the van’s car seat.
“Hurry up Aunt Sarah, I want you to tell me a story,” the little girl said.
“I’ll alwa
ys love you,” she whispered to him.
“I’ll always love you,” he said back to her. Alex took her in his arms and they kissed one last time as Jezebel purred between them.
“Take care of her, Jez,” he said and rubbed the feline’s head. Jezebel looked up at him and meowed as Sarah stepped into the van.
He watched as the door closed. From the side window, Sarah looked his way. Their eyes met. Did a tear run down her cheek? It was hard tell through the dusty glass. Sarah wiped the window the best she could with the arm of his jacket. It was enough for him to see her smile. That was Sarah, crying one minute and smiling the next, always torn between heartbreak and happiness.
Jezebel had joined her at the window, her head cocked in his direction, to favor her good eye. He wanted so much to join them, to go with Sarah to secret places and faraway lands.
He smiled the best he could and waved to her as the van pulled slowly away from the curb. Sarah’s hand touched the glass as her head turned toward him.
“Someday,” he said, loud enough for her to hear it, and she smiled at him one last time.
The van moved down the street, the symbol of peace on its trunk lift became smaller as it ventured into the traffic of San Francisco. It disappeared in that manner. Another van graced with peace signs, blown by the first winds of autumn into places unknown.
Moments in time. Moments that last forever. Sarah was gone, but she felt near. It was time for another story, told to a small girl who sat next to her, and, perhaps, even a finicky cat who graced her lap.
Maybe, if he listened hard enough, he would hear the story too. Somewhere, not far away, a princess was saving the world through the eyes and ears of a child. One life was making the difference in the lives of many by telling a story of hope and love, a story with no ending.
“She wanted you to have this.”
Alex sighed and looked one last time down Ashbury Street before turning to the voice. He was not ready to let her go yet. He was not ready for Sarah to become a memory. He needed more time with her.
Chick had a book in his hand, holding it out for Alex to take.
“She knew you couldn’t go with her. She said you’d remember her with this.”
When the book had passed hands, Chick grasped his friend’s shoulder.
“It’s time for me to leave too, champ.” He did not look Alex in the eyes. There was too much sadness there, and Chick despised sadness because he feared it so.
“Bella’s waiting for me at the van with Skip and Benny. I have no doubt that, by this time next week, I’ll be up to my elbows in beets and asparagus plants. Who’d of ever thought me a farmer.”
Chick saw Alex staring at the book in his hands. “It’s a good book. Make sure you read between the lines.”
Alex studied the book. “I will,” he replied.
“Good luck champ,” Chick said, and turned to leave.
“Wait.” Alex raised his face and looked at his good friend.
“I want to thank you for your guidance and your friendship. You’ll always be a part of me Chick.”
Chick turned his head away from Alex. For several seconds the sounds of distant traffic prevailed, and then Chick drew in a deep breath. He always had difficulty saying what he did not believe, but he spoke anyhow.
“I have no doubt you’ll see her again. You may have to seek her out, or maybe she will come to you. It will not be easy, but she’ll wait. She will wait for you. Be careful in the army champ.”
“Have a good life Chick, despite the beets.” Alex spoke in the most jovial manner he could muster.
Chick chuckled a little then looked back at the house and his mood became melancholy.
“I’m going to miss the old place, especially that swing.” He shook his head and sighed. “Make sure the lights are off and the doors locked before you leave. My father still pays rent until the end of the month.”
Chick walked away then. He did not look back, just waved and gave the peace sign as he too began a long journey to a new home.
It was never really quiet on Asbury Street. Car horns sounded regularly, as pedestrians mingled with automobiles in awkward and dangerous ways. However, in this hour before the night ushered out the day, Alex heard nothing but the loud thumping of his heartbeat.
The book in his hand was entitled ‘Children of a Broken Sky’. He remembered Sarah reading this book of poetry on several occasions.
Though it appeared bookmarked in its center by an object of some sort, he opened it to the first page. There an inscription marked the page that preceded the index. It was in Sarah’s writing.
My dearest Alex,
I am writing this by candlelight on our last night together. I see you sleeping in the shadows not far from me. Soon I will put down this pen and join you in bed. I will hold you tightly for perhaps the last time.
I know that you will not join me on the new adventure. I do not fault you for that. I have always known that love, no matter how strong, could not break the bonds of family and responsibility. My own past taught me that lesson in the harshest of terms.
We were lovers with different destinies. Yours will send you into dark and cruel places, and mine into the dream of a better peaceful world. I believe you knew, as I did, that these obstacles were too sturdy for even our love to conquer. And I love you so much Alex, more than you will ever know.
Please forgive my lifestyle as I forgive yours. Tonight I am not a peacemaker, nor a dancer or dreamer. Tonight I am just a scared girl afraid of losing all I need or love.
I live by the words you once spoke in a candlelit room to a group of strangers. We must have the courage of our convictions. I know of your courage, now I must show mine.
Remember, in the time to come, that my feelings for you will never change. I pray that I will always be your sweetest memory.
And now I’ll put down the pen and join you under the covers. I need the warmth of your body to sustain me through the cold nights ahead.
You are my only true love.
The shadows of the coming night conspired to prevent him from reading more. But he did open the book to the place where something had been inserted. The bookmark was a rose. The flower was in full bloom and, though flattened somewhat by the pages, was as vibrant as the day it had been picked.
Alex knew it was the rose that adorned Sarah’s hair last night. It rested on a page of prose entitled ‘A Garden of Daydreams’.
He picked it up gently by its stem. He brought it to his face and smelled it. The wind gusted and the flower bent with it, but the petals held firm. Soon it was upright again. He placed it back onto the page and gently closed it tight.
The wind buffeted him; a strong blast that brought a chill with it. For a moment, Alex let the wind’s sting wash across his face. He put his hands in his pockets and felt something there.
He had forgotten Sarah’s gift to him in their room. He pulled out a gold locket. He snapped the coupling and it fell open. Inside was a photograph of Sarah’s face. The flowers in her long blond hair informed him the picture was taken some time this summer. He brought it to closer to him and saw an inscription written on the inside.
You will be safe. They promise, it read.
He turned to Ashbury Street. She was still close enough to catch. Soon she would be too far away.
He looked back at the locket for a while, and then he closed his eyes and chased her one last time before the summer ended.
When he opened his eyes, the bitter wind was his only companion. He gently snapped the locket shut and put it in his jeans, then turned and faced the house. The wind rushed toward him, cold and indifferent.
He lowered his head and walked into it.
EPILOGUE
The rain fell in sheets. It was a cold rain that, before night’s end, would become sleet or perhaps even snow. For now, it contented itself to beat noisily against the window, pushed by a late autumn wind.
He stood at the glass watching the gray landscape slowly melt away. H
e touched the panes. They were cold and caused a chill to run through him, but he let his hands stay there for a while anyhow, hoping the sensation would rescue him from his memories.
Occasionally the cold worked, but this time it did not. This time her image still danced about in his head, as playful as a daydream, as elusive as a butterfly. Once again, she had found the perfect hiding place where he could never hope to find her. There she was content to remain sheltered from age as his days melted into nights and his years dissolved into decades.
And it wasn’t fair. He was sixty-five years old and she remained young and spirited, forever eighteen. How could he possibly expect to catch her now? She would leave him behind when he was young and flashed about at breakneck speeds by the summer’s end.
He pressed his hands harder against the cold glass. He could see his reflection, blurry and vague, in the rain. He moved his face close enough to the window for his breath to fog the glass. Today he did not wish to see what the years had stolen from him. Today was for memories. Most days were.
Would he have let her go, could he have let her go, if he had known that he would never see her again. He doubted it. He always knew in his heart that someday he would find her again. He was sure that no obstacle could keep them apart. As much as she was a child of the stars and the heavens, she was still earthbound. He would find her.
He never did.
When he returned from Vietnam, after his discharge from the army, he began his search. He took a flight to Olympia, Washington, rented a car, and started looking there. After a while, when he realized how many communes were scattered about the state, he bought a used ’65 Volkswagen.
The commune hippies were friendly and, unlike some of their San Francisco counterparts, hard working. For the most part, they had become farmers, though they would be the last to admit it. Locals would rent them land, which they would cultivate with, mostly legitimate, crops. These were the true believers, not the pretenders who scurried back to their old haunts and lives when the bubble burst in the autumn of 1967. Here, in the quiet fields and valleys, they grew enough to live off the land, and eke out an existence free of burden and care.
