Hindsight Jan. 1, 1986
Happy New Years!
It’s been three years exactly since I last said these words
to Fran. The events of that day should have warned me what to expect for the upcoming
year, and the relationship to come.
My relationship with Fran began a month and half earlier in
late 1982 when I first started seeing her seriously.
I met her while working at the Clifton Fotomat on a Saturday
and arranged to take a walk with her in a park early the next morning.
It started as a walk and ended up later in my bed with Pauly
waiting elsewhere annoyed for me to drive him to practice with the band.
He lived in Towaco at the time.
That same day, Michael and his girlfriend, Linda, were
having a poetry reading at a local club. Fran and I showed up late.
If I believe in omens, then I might have taken an event
later in November when a neighbor pounded on my door while Fran and I were
making love, yelling that someone had just hit my car.
It was a drunk without insurance, resulting in my car
getting laid up in the shop for a few days.
Christmas came with great expectations for the new band
Pauly was singing for, only to have the band peter out after only three
performances, and I lost the $25 fee as sound man for the last performance.
Fran and I took a trip of Pennsylvania on Christmas Eve to
see my ex-wife and kid, only to have Fran’s “Pal” Bill tag along with a fateful
stop at Pauly’s place where he and Bill – two of a breed – tried to one-up each
other with their conspiracy theories.
Pauly was supposed to have come with us to see my ex-wife in
Pennsylvania but copped out last minute the way he had earlier when we had planned
to go see Robin Williamson perform in New York and rather than waste the ticket
we’d paid for, we took Garrick instead.
Bill, a diehard alcoholic, had worse gas mileage than my
car, forcing us to stop to pick up enough six packs of beer to last him the
trip west.
The heavy stuff didn’t happen until we got to my ex-wife’s
place where Bill began his manipulations. Bill didn’t feel comfortable staying
the night there, knowing I was in the next room screwing his ex-girlfriend, and
so he arranged to spend the night screwing my ex-wife.
It left a lot of bad feelings, especially when Fran tried to
protect Bill, trying to shift blame onto my ex-wife, whom I got protective of.
This should have warned me of things to come.
A week later, on New Years Day 1983, Fran and I drove up to
Oakland in her car for a walk in the woods, when a pick-up truck slammed into
the back of us. The driver had been distracted by a jogger waving a night stick
and didn’t even hit the brakes.
We weren’t hurt. But the car was, front seat mangled, rear
truck bashed in, the carburetor shattered so that the engine would not start.
After all the legalities, I called Pauly, hoping to catch
Garrick there, and he was. They agreed to come pick us up. Fran was more
concerned about having to tell her father. She didn’t want him to interfere.
She hated him and had a blow out with him on the Thanksgiving
before, the same day I drove her down to meet my family in Toms River. She didn’t like my uncle’s wife but loved
meeting my mother.
Now, we had this other disaster on New Year’s to report.
We left the car on the side of the road and went for a walk
in the woods until Pauly and Garrick arrived. They met us up the road, Pauly
making wisecracks, Garrick snapping back.
Looking back, I realize just how big a part Pauly would play
later in the demise of my relationship with Fran. Hindsight as they say is 20
20, although I’m not sure if I would have done anything different over the last
three years if I knew then what I know now.
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