I tell him, "This is what you were meant to do. Forget about selling cars, go back to your music, please. Go back to the thing you really love."
"Oh, babe, I wish I could. I'd like nothing better than to perform on stage again, especially if you were with me. Just keep that in your heart, I want it to happen one day, but I don’t see it happening right now.”
"If it’s what you want, then we'll make it happen, don't give up on your dream."
“Oh, Jesus, Lib, I wish I could it but I’ve got to go to Ellensburg. This contract they have me on is a ball breaker.”
“Listen, there’s something I’ve never told you about before, my Grandma owns a recording studio in Seattle. Get a band together, start writing some songs, and I promise I can get you recorded.”
“Oh, God, I love you for that, babe, but I can’t do it now. Just let it go, we can talk about all of this in the future.”
I can’t believe that he wouldn’t try to break that contract. Something more is going on here, but he won’t talk about it.
After he leaves on Sunday, I find myself just moping about, crying off and on. It will be three days before he calls again. Three days of wondering what’s going on, three days of a sick panicky feeling in my stomach.
When he finally does call, he apologizes and gives me the excuse that he has been on the road ferrying cars. I believe him but I don’t understand why he couldn’t find time to make a phone call.
It will be four days before he calls again. He has never been this inattentive. His birthday is coming up and I ask him if he wants me to come there for it. He says he’ll be too busy, he’s working six days a week and spending four of them on the road ferrying cars. I know something is horribly wrong but when I ask him, he denies it.
I hear from him only one more time before his birthday so on his birthday I decide to call him. His phone has been disconnected. I call the car dealership and ask for him, they tell me that he doesn’t work there anymore. He quit a week ago, and they don’t know where he went. Frantic, I call Carol but she hasn’t heard from him either. She wants to know where he is too, because he hasn’t paid his child support for the past month. Then I call his brother Bob in Eagle Valley but he doesn’t know anything. “You need to dump that sorry son of a bitch,” he tells me. “You’re too good for him, Libby, he’s never been one to be faithful, and he cheated on Carol plenty.”
But doesn’t look like it will be me who’ll be doing the dumping. It looks like he has already dumped me.
I keep on trying to find him. I call everybody I can think of who knows him, but nobody has heard from him. Carol and Bob both call the dealership but it all comes back the same, he's not there. It's as if he's vanished off the face of the earth. We don't know if he's dead or alive.
A couple of months later, I'm sitting in the bank, waiting to talk to someone about closing out my account, when I see an Ellensburg newspaper on the table in front of me. I pick it up and start thumbing through it, my intuition takes me to the vital statistics section, and there I see his name in the marriage notices. He’s getting married to someone named Linda Roberts. I’m sure it’s Red because his middle name is Xavier, and how many other Norman Carlson’s can there be in Ellensburg with that middle name? I scream to myself and start sobbing. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to recover from this. Now it’s final, I have lost everything that is important to me. All of my hopes and dreams, and not only just my boyfriend but my best friend as well and I don’t know why.
CHAPTER 11
July – November 1969
In the months since I found out that Red had gotten married I have become a real drunk. I moved back to Eagle Valley and found another job. Beth and I go out at least 3 times a week to the bars, drinking and feeding off each other’s sorrows, looking for men. I go to the doctor and get a prescription for birth control pills. I never had to worry about that with Red since he’d had a vasectomy but I sure don’t want an unwanted pregnancy if I find a man I like.
One Wednesday night we’re drinking in a hotel lounge when two good-looking men walk in. They sit at the bar but keep looking over at us. Finally, the younger of the two comes over and asks if they can buy us a drink and sit with us. He is one of the best-looking men I have ever seen. He’s short, about 5’ 8”, slim, with black curly hair and brown eyes. From the sound of his accent, I think he’s probably European. We tell them yes. Beth starts chatting up the other guy while I focus on the gorgeous one.
“Hi, I’m Libby. What’s your name? Where are you from?”
“My name is Desi and I am from Paris, France but I have been in the United States for 8 years. Jim and I work for a pole spraying company in New York. We spray the telephone and power poles so they won’t decay. We are here on a contract for the summer. Would you like to dance?” I tell him I’m a lousy dancer but get up to try it anyway. He’s a good dancer and makes it easy for me.
When we get back to the table, he asks me out for Friday night and I say yes. Jim has asked Beth out too so we tell them we’ll met them here at 8:00 Friday night. Then we thank them for the drink and head home.
“Oh my God,” Beth says. “We’ve gotten ourselves a couple of cuties this time. I can’t wait for Friday.”
“What about Harold?” I ask her.
“Oh, Harold, shmarold, I won’t see him for months. He doesn’t get furloughed until January.”
“Just remember, these guys are only here for the summer. Don’t get carried away like you did with Andy.”
On Friday night, they are waiting for us and take us dancing to three different clubs. It’s a great evening and they ask us out again for Saturday night. This time we go to dinner, and a movie at the drive-in. On the way home Desi asks if I would like to have a picnic with him the next day. He says he’ll bring chicken, baked beans, biscuits, and beer. I tell him, okay, and that I’ll make a fruit salad. I show him where my apartment building is and he says he will pick me up at noon.
On Sunday, we go to a small deserted campground with a creek running through it in the national forest and spend the day getting to know each another. He tells me that his father and two sisters live in Paris. His mother died when he was 13. He only finished the 8th grade because he had to go to work to help support the family. When he was 20 he came to the U.S. to stay with a friend of his father’s and he’s been here ever since. He goes back once or twice a year to see his family. He has never been married. I tell him about myself and after we eat our picnic, we explore the forest and goof around in the creek.
It’s the start of a summer romance; one that I will always cherish. We see each other several times a week, have drinks, go dancing, go to movies, and explore the wonderful outdoors. Eventually, we make love. We’re not in love with each other but we’ve formed a special bond that I hope will last, even after he’s gone.
By the time September rolls around I have missed my period. My God, how can I be pregnant when I’m on those pills? I make an appointment with the doctor but the test comes back negative. “It may be too early to tell,” he says. “These things aren’t foolproof.”
By the end of September I know that I am. There are changes in my body. My breasts are sore and certain smells make me slightly nauseous. There’s a dull ache in my lower abdomen. I have to tell Desi, he’s leaving in a week.
He takes the news well but I can tell he isn’t happy about it. Neither am I. If I wanted a child, I would never have used birth control.
“I will write to you and tell you where I am, you must let me know as soon as you find out for sure,” he tells me. He gives me the address of his employer in New York and says I can write to him anytime. They will forward the letters to him. Right now, he is going to Iowa for a month.
After he leaves I get a beautiful postcard from France, he has gone to visit his family for a few days, a letter from Iowa, and then nothing. I write to him but another month goes by with no response. My next pregnancy test finally comes back positive, and it seems that another man ha
s disappeared from my life.
This time I have to know what’s going on. With Red, I didn’t pursue it as much as I could have, and I’ve regretted that ever since. I call the long distance operator and get the number for his employer. Once I have it I’m not sure if I have the guts to make the call but finally I do. I tell them I’m looking for one of their employees who was working in Washington this past summer. They transfer me to the personnel department and I tell a lady there who I am and who I’m looking for. I lie to her and tell her I have some of his personal belongings and want to get them back to him.
There’s some silence on the phone and then she says, “Libby do you live at the Parkside Apartments in Eagle Valley, Washington?” My God, how does she know this? I tell her that I do.
“Libby, I have some terrible news for you. Desi was killed six weeks ago from an accident on the job. We found your letters to him in his personal effects. We’ve been meaning to contact you but we always try to contact the family first. Do you know where his family is?”
Devastated, crying, and sobbing, I tell her, “I don’t have an address, but he told me that his father and sisters live in Paris.”
“Libby, would you like to have some of his personal effects? He started a letter to you and some poetry. We’re aware of your situation.”
I tell her that I would and then put down the phone and cry and cry. My sweet, sweet, Desi, what am I going to do now?
Three weeks later, I lose the baby.
CHAPTER 12
December 1969
After the deaths of Desi and our baby, I am totally dysfunctional. I quit my job. I want to get away from here and decide there’s only one place that I want to go. My Grandma Jessie’s in San Francisco. I call her and tell her what’s happened. She cries along with me and then says, “You’re coming to stay with me, and that’s final. Get yourself packed up and when you’re ready I’ll send my Learjet for you.”
A Learjet, oh yeah, Grandma has a jet; she is wealthy, massively wealthy. Her daughter and son-in-law used to own three newspapers in California and when they were both killed in an auto accident Grandma inherited it all. She sold the newspapers and invested the money. She is set for life. She also inherited their beautiful 4 bedroom, 3-bath home in the Sea Cliff neighborhood of San Francisco. It is huge with 4,000 square feet and a fantastic view of the Pacific and the Golden Gate Bridge.
Grandma is also no stranger to troubles and bad times. When she was a young bride with a new baby, she watched when her father was killed when he drove his team and wagon across some railroad tracks and was struck by a train. Two years later, her mother died of a ruptured appendix. She took in her little brother and raised him only to suffer his death in World War 2. Then five years later her husband dropped dead suddenly of a heart attack. If anyone can help me through my despondency, it will be Grandma.
I sell my car and some of my furniture and give everything else away. I rent a storage unit, paying a year in advance, and leave my accordions and music equipment behind. I call Grandma and tell her I’m ready. She tells me the Learjet will be here on Thursday, two days from now at 11:30 in the morning.
I hire a taxi to take me to the airport and get there early. I want to see the little jet come in. I’m no stranger to aviation; my Dad was a pilot and an aircraft mechanic by trade. He would buy wrecked planes and re-build them. We always had an airplane to fly when I was growing up. I held the stick of a plane long before I ever held the steering wheel of a car. He taught me to fly and I got my private pilot’s license but I’ve never been in a jet.
I watch as the beautiful little white and blue striped jet comes in for a landing. When it stops the pilot and co-pilot both get out and introduce their selves to me and then I see her at the top of the stairs, its Grandma. “Grandma, Grandma,” I scream and race up the stairs to her. “What are you doing here?” We hug and kiss. She looks so beautiful. Grandma is 69, still slim, 5’ 4” with salt and pepper hair and beautiful blue eyes. I can’t believe she is here.
“Do you think I’d let you come alone on a long flight like this? Besides, we’re not going to San Francisco. I’m taking you to Las Vegas for some R and R.”
Oh, geez, Vegas. Grandma likes to gamble, Blackjack is her game of choice. She taught me to play when I was 7 years old and I became so much of an addict that my Dad finally had to put a stop to it.
“Vegas, why Vegas, I thought Reno was your favorite?”
“Reno’s too cold this time of year, and besides don’t you want to see Elvis? I’ve booked reservations for us to see his show at the International Hotel.”
I throw my arms around her and cry, “Oh, Grandma, thank you, you are so good to me.”
“Nothing’s too good for my sweet girl. Now hush that crying and come sit down and fasten your seatbelt, we’re about ready for takeoff.”
After the beautiful flight attendant, Sandy, serves us lunch, the co-pilot, Dave, comes out and says to me, “Go on up and take the right chair. I’ll keep your grandmother company while you’re gone.”
Another surprise treat from Grandma. She’s told them that I used to fly light aircraft and would probably love the chance of sitting up front. So I go into the cockpit and buckle myself in the co-pilots chair. The pilot, John, grins at me and then says, “Well are you ready to learn how to fly this baby?”
“You’ve got to be kidding me, this instrument panel is mind-boggling.” I manage to locate the airspeed indicator and altimeter. We’re flying at 30,000 feet with airspeed in excess of 400 mph. He laughs and then starts telling me all about the jet and before I know it, we’re almost to Vegas. When Dave comes back in, he tells me that he hopes that this is just the first of many flights that I go on with them. We’re just about to land so I go back and sit with Grandma.
After we land a limousine is waiting for us and takes us to the beautiful International Hotel where we’ll be staying. It’s the same one where Elvis will be performing. I can’t believe all this is happening.
The best part, though, is that for the past hour and a half I haven’t had my mind on my sorrows.
CHAPTER 13
We spend two glorious days in Las Vegas. The first night we relax in our beautiful hotel suite and order in room service. We talk and talk, getting re-acquainted with each other. The next day Grandma takes me shopping and buys me a new wardrobe including a couple of evening gowns, one of which I’ll wear when we go to see Elvis.
“Grandma, it’s too much.”
“Nonsense, girl. I want to give you something while I’m still alive, not make you wait until I’m dead and buried.”
Then it’s off to the jewelers where she buys me diamond stud earrings and a matching pendant necklace. Next, we go to a salon where she’s booked appointments to have our hair and make-up done. I feel like I’m some kind of celebrity. A Learjet, a limousine, fancy clothes, exquisite jewelry, plus being pampered. Grandma leads some kind of life.
When we get back to the hotel Grandma says she wants to do a little gambling so I leave her to it and stay in the room so I can try on some of my new clothes. God knows where I’ll wear them all to, it’s not like I’m going to have a big social life. Or am I? I really don’t know what kind of lifestyle Grandma leads.
When she comes back we dress and go to dinner, then it’s off to see Elvis. Oh, my God, 90 minutes of watching the sexiest man on earth perform. And perform he does, he’s an extraordinary entertainer. I can’t believe I’m really here seeing him in the flesh. I’ve been hooked on him ever since he first came on the scene in the late 1950’s. The first record I ever bought was his Heartbreak Hotel and I still have it to this day.
The next day we go on a bus tour to see the city and later make the rounds of some of the other casinos. They are all so beautiful and there are so many different things to see and do. A person could live here forever and not experience it all. Grandma gambles and wins about $500.00 but I mainly wander around and stare in awe at this opulent world I’ve never seen before. Tomor
row we’ll be going home to San Francisco.
After breakfast, the next morning, the limousine picks us up and takes us to the airport where the pilots and the jet are waiting. Once again they let me sit in the right chair. “You should think about getting type rated,” John tells me. “I know your grandma would pay for the training.”
“I don’t think so. I grew up in aviation but it’s never been a real passion. I don’t even have my private pilot’s license anymore.”
“Well, consider it. Dave and I will help you anyway we can.”
When we get to San Francisco a small limousine and driver are waiting for us. “This is my personal car and my driver Henry,” Grandma tells me. “They’re at your disposal for wherever you want to go.” I can’t believe it, my own limo, and driver.
Once we get to her home, Grandma asks me which of the vacant bedrooms I want. There is one upstairs next to her and two in the lower level. I choose the downstairs. “It’s closest to that wine cellar,” I tell her. “One never knows when that’s going to come in handy.”
She gives me one of those ‘Don’t mess with me, girl’ looks and says she’ll have her housekeeper Meg make it up for me and bring my things down. She tells me that after lunch, she wants to take a nap and suggests I use the time to familiarize myself with the place. I’ve been here before, but it’s so big that I don’t remember where everything is. On the main floor, there’s the living room with a stone fireplace and three French doors that open out to a balcony from which to enjoy the view. The elegant dining room can seat a large dinner party and the fully equipped gourmet kitchen is a chef’s dream. Adjacent to the kitchen is a family room with another stone fireplace and French doors, which open out to a garden area. Then there’s a powder room, mostly used for quests. On the upper level is the luxurious master bedroom with a stone fireplace, a large window seat to enjoy the view, a huge dressing room, and full marble bath with a view. A view office space with built in bookshelves and a bar refrigerator adjoins the bedroom. The second bedroom with bath has a balcony overlooking the front garden and the street below. Then there’s the laundry room and additional attic space. On the lower level, there are two bedrooms, one bathroom, a wine cellar, and access to the two-car garage. Wow, what a place!
Where Does My Heart Belong? Page 4
