Let me say right off that I'm not naive.I've spent all of my 18 years growing up in the toughest part of town, and believe me, that's an education in itself! But suddenly last Spring I found myself up against something which jolted me right out of my skin. I got a double-barrel shock, for I fell head over heels in love with the boy I'd long dated, Cal Tooker. It was that very love that brought me face to face with the weirdness of the so-called Acidheads!
Since my father died and my mother went to Chicago I've lived with my Aunt Olive, who was something of a puritan. "Betty Barnes, you were born with the stars against you," she said one night as I was getting ready to sneak out to see Cal. "Your mother was no good, I told your poor father that before he married her. And you're not smart enough to make your way in the world or snag a good husband, so watch yourself girl! It's your kind of girl that throws herself at the first man who gives her the eye - and ends up regretting it all their life!"
Deep down I knew that Aunt Olive wasn't really getting at me personally - I suspected that her great remorse in life was that she was downright ugly and no man had ever given her the chance to fight for her virtue. I just used to pretend to listen and nod as her thin, bee-stung lips flapped on about the evils of men. But my mind was miles away - two to be exact, at the car park where Cal worked as a car jockey. But maybe, just maybe if I'd listened more carefully to that pitiful old spinster.......
I despised snaking out behind Aunt Olive's back, but I had to - she thought of Cal as a "worthless boy with no background." When he picked me up later in his new sports car he said, "You're looking extra gorgeous tonight honey." As I got in he leaned over and caressed my long blond hair and brushed his lips against my cheek. As always, I felt a crackle of delight flare all over me when he touched me. "I got something for you," he said in his low husky voice. He opened his hand and there was the white gold and diamond-encircled engagement ring I'd fallen in love with at Draper's Jewelers.
"Say you will baby," he implored. I was speechless. "You will won't you?" he said again as he raised my hand and slipped the ring on my trembling finger. I felt the world rush past my ears as I cried, "Yes! Oh yes Cal! I want to marry you more than anything else in the world!" Our lips melted together in a kiss that made the world melt away with its sweet wildness. But our joy was brought to an end in the rudest of fashions. Suddenly a tapping on the window scared us both into sitting bolt upright, and we saw a policeman bending down to peer at us. "All right, move along with you," the cop snarled. "You can't park here and carry on!" Cal hurriedly started the motor and drove off. "Cops! They spoil everything!" He muttered angrily. I remembered that he had once been rounded up for a gang fight. I kept silent, wanting to ignore all the ugliness that surrounded us, wanting only to return to that blissful state of ecstasy in Cal's kiss, and never leave it - never!
Eight weeks down the line and things were very different. One night, for instance, I finally had to face that old problem that I thought I had settled - Sex! "But baby, we're engaged now," Cal pleaded with me one Friday night when we parked in lover's lane with about ten other steamed-up cars. I pushed his hand away and wished we'd just stayed at the Drive-In. "Cal, please don't go back on your word now," I said. I felt guilty, for I too suffered from a strong impulse to throw all caution to the wind and forget my dreary life in Cal's arms. "We'll be married soon, then you'll be glad you waited." Cal gave a little laugh, pulled away and angrily lit a cigarette. Then he did something he'd never done before on a date with me. He grabbed a pint bottle of whisky from the glove compartment and took a huge swallow. "Cal!" I snapped. He looked at me with frustrated eyes and coughed on the burning liquor. "Here, if you won't love me, at least take a drink with me." I turned my head away, for I despised the stuff. Cal gave a mocking laugh and finished the bottle. " Okay Betty," he said coldly, "I guess you'll never fall off your little pedestal, will you? So it's strictly hands off - but let me remind you, baby - I'm only goddam human!" I didn't like the tone of his voice, or for that matter, his cussing, but I chalked it off to the booze. I tried to forget that this whisky-breathed guy was the same sweet Cal I loved with all my heart.
Virtually every night aftre that we would argue - booze one night, money the next, and sometimes he'd just be moody for no reason. I began to wonder what had happened to the joy and goodness of our love. "I know I'm cranky tonight, Betty," he snapped one night when we were going to meet some of his new friends from the car park. "But what do you expect? I hustle my tail as a car jockey but I can't ever get anywhere! I've been on that job two years and I'm still a big nothing!" We parked outside a dingy night spot, a hangout of Cal's new buddy Boots Silvers. I gave Cal a kiss to cheer him up. he kissed me back and I felt a little easier, but I sensed I wouldn't really like the gang Boots was running with.
Inside Boots' hangout it was the kind of place I'd never seen or even dreamed of before. It was painted black inside with plaster peeling off the walls and all kinds of weird paintings and staues hanging about in unexpected places. Instead of booths there were old wire chairs and tables, and instead of regular floors the place was covered in peanut shells! The music (if I can call it that) was a sheer wall of sound, some kind of mixture of jazz and whiney music. I thought I'd seen some strange places before, like wino taverns and passion pit rock 'n roll joints, but this one took the cake! "Well sugar, do you like The Purple Trip?" Cal aksed. "It's all right," I said unconvincingly as he dragged me to a table at the back, where a group of young people were lounging about. He cleared his throat nervously and introduced me. "Betty, I want you to meet Boots Silvers and his chick Neva Hunt, and this is Marty and his girl Fran." The four nodded distractedly as I sat down. I made some kind of simple remark like, "Gee, this place sure is popular," but nobody answered me.
Looking around, I realised they were all wrapped up in something I hadn't noticed. Recessed high on one of the walls was a kind of stage where a tall blond girl wrapped in colored gauze danced, weaving her body in time to the strange music. Cal said, "That's Boots' ex-girlfriend Myra. She's kind of far-out all the time, and she just dances there until she drops. Funny, huh?" I looked back at the sexy dancer, unable to work how if she was drunk she could keep her balance up there. I didn't imagine at the time that perhaps she was high on something else other than liquor!
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
