Chapter 40

Two days later Wendy went to her guitar lesson. She started to get the hang of it. She took her sheet music home and practiced the song, “Close to You.” She had difficulty trying to learn to coordinate the strings on her right hand with the left hand, but she was determined to make it happen. One problem she encountered, she didn’t know how to tune the guitar, even though the teacher showed her. She needed the teacher to explain again, but Wendy’s sense of tone was not good. She’d learn it eventually, she told herself.

Wendy groped and gawked at the different clothes she moved back and forth in her closet. What to wear to the Weed Party? She pulled out two pair of pants and several tops and laid them on the bed. She loved the denim, hip hugger bell bottom pants and decided to wear them with a blue and white colored tie dye top.

She put on black eyeliner and mascara. She brushed and combed her long, thick, auburn hair so it would be tangle free and shiny. Looking in the mirror, she blew herself a kiss.

Wendy grabbed her purse, jacket and car keys and checked the address. After looking it up on a map she knew right where it was. She drove east on Santa Monica Boulevard turning north onto Westwood Blvd. The house was on Wilkins Avenue. A porch light lit it up. Wendy parked and walked to the front door and knocked. A sexy, long haired blond woman opened the door.

“Come get down,” she greeted.

Wendy went in and immediately looked around for Rusty. She passed the dining room table loaded with all kinds of snack foods, beer and wine. She wandered down a hallway where she spotted Rusty leaning against a door.

“Glad to see you made it.”

She followed him into an unfurnished room and sat on the floor along with everyone else. The guitarist, Cary, was quoting poetry. There were twelve other people there. He started to play “Mr. Bojangles,” an unhappy song, about a man who dances in worn out shoes, a ragged shirt, and baggy pants.

Several joints were being passed around, so you could take a toke, pass it on, and a minute later have another hit. Everyone mellowed and their eyes were glued to Cary. Wendy took her second hit, and then another. Rusty grinned and she momentarily put her head against his shoulder. Wendy was somewhere else, wandering around in her head.

The music stopped and everyone got up to leave, except Wendy. Rusty saw her glassy eyes and helped her up as Cary walked toward her and said, “You owe me an apology.”

Wendy couldn’t focus. “I do, why?”

“You know.”

She looked at him like he was an illusion. “I don’t know.”

Cary left. Some guy following him out the door said to Wendy, “Don’t worry about it.”

Wendy looked at Rusty confused. Her head wasn’t clear, and she was bewildered.

“Let’s go see what’s happenin’ in the living room,” Rusty said as he steered her there.

There were two bridge chairs open for them. The group talked about Nixon’s precarious position in the Watergate Scandal. Impeachment was close.

Wendy didn’t care, she just wanted Rusty to tell her what made Cary mad at her.

Wendy leaned into Rusty. “Please, tell me what happened with Cary.”

“In a while, this conversation interests me.”

Not to Wendy…she sulked with frustration. She tried so hard to remember the events in the bedroom. Cary read anti-war poetry. A conversation followed as they discussed the importance of caring about others. He sang a couple of songs. The next thing she knew everyone stood up. She remembered she couldn’t quite get her balance and Rusty steadied her. It was then Cary came over and hit her with the need to apologize.

Rusty shook her arm to get her out of the trance like state. “Are you okay to drive?”

“Yeah, I’m okay.”

Are you ready to go?”

“Definitely.”

As soon as they stood by her car, she pleaded with him. “Rusty, please tell me what happened.”

“Okay. First, you have to understand you were totally stoned. I looked at your face a couple of times and your eyes were glazed over like you were somewhere else. I think the weed was a very strong variety.”

“But, I talked, right?”

“Yes, a couple of times, but you were gone, metaphorically speaking.”

“Oh, great. So, I said, or did what?”

“You told Cary his voice was strident, and you couldn’t follow the song.”

She shuddered. “Oh, fuck. What did he say?”

“Nothing, but if looks could kill. . .”

“Shit. I did owe him an apology.”

“Yes and no. You couldn’t apologize when you didn’t know what you said, besides he should have known you were out of it, and completely unaware of your words.”

“I feel like...I don’t even know. It’s time to quit weed. I used to get a good high off of it, but now. . .”

Rusty interrupted. “You don’t have to quit. Just be aware drugs you don’t know could have more impact with their potency. Are you okay now?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” She stopped for a second. “Thanks, Rusty.”

He bent down to her, lifted her chin and gave her a kiss that lingered a bit too long for a friendship. “Good night, sleep tight.” He walked away.

The kiss stunned her. She got into her car and drove home. Once inside the house, she closed the door and leaned against it, still dazed by the ardent kiss.