Authors: Randy Mixter
The next stop was a shop call Xanadu, a couple of blocks away, a place Chick swore sold the best sandals in the area. The trip between stores was a long one. Chick was constantly meeting and greeting his friends and admirers while Alex searched in vain for a working phone. They were almost at their destination when he found a phone that produced a dial tone.
While Chick held court outside, Alex closed the door to the hot musty booth and dialed the operator.
His first collect call was to his home, where his mother’s sharp yes to the operator’s question of accepting a collect call spelled trouble. He was right. She let him have it for not calling earlier. She did not want to hear that the house phone no longer worked, nor that the walk was four blocks to the nearest functional one. Eventually she calmed down and actually seemed to sniffle when asking if he was taking care of himself. After finding out that his father was currently in team competition at a local bowling alley, he promised her he would call at least three times a week, though he doubted that schedule would last past his old man’s first phone bill.
Next, he placed a call to his workplace. An operator quickly transferred him to an assistant editor, who, in an annoyed tone, went down the list of what was required of him during his two-month stay. He was still going over some details when Chick pounded on the outside glass loud enough to break his train of thought.
“Tell Uncle Max I said hi!” he yelled into the booth.
The assistant editor sighed loudly when Alex told him the noisemaker was Bestwick’s nephew.
“I’ll pass that on to him immediately after I hang up,” he said in a sarcastic manner.
After making the Western Union mailing arrangements, in delivering the copy and obtaining his paychecks, Alex gave both his and Chick’s regards to the editor and hung up the receiver.
“So how’s Uncle Max doing?” Chick asked the minute Alex exited the phone booth.
“I didn’t talk to him,” Alex replied, and was surprised when Chick looked a little disappointed. He was about to ask why the concern when Chick beat him to the punch.
“I knew him before he became an asshole.”
They once again navigated Haight Street. Chick, the consummate tour guide, pointed out places and shops of interest along the way. Young men, and occasionally women, asking for money, stopped them many times along the route. Chick brushed them off with a gentle “sorry, man,” and walked on.
“The true believers,” Chick pointed out, “don’t ask for money. They know how to get by without it.”
Alex had been thinking about Sarah since they left the house. He did not want to rush his tour guide, but he thought it time to toss out a reminder.
“You said something about checking out a couple of places where Sarah might be.”
Chick glanced at him and smiled.
“Alright, we’ll skip Xanadu for now and head to the Free Clinic. But first, I need to look up a couple of friends at the Diggers Store.”
They turned right, walked a block, turned right again, and were on Page Street. Alex saw a wooden sign on the sidewalk, leaning against a lamppost, it read: FREE FOOD AND STUFF.
“It was a multi-car garage at one time,” Chick said as they crossed the store’s threshold.
People rushed about the building. Men and women rummaged through the tables of free food, clothing, books, and other various merchandise. Most of the clientele were young, but Alex noticed some older shabbily dressed men wandering around with bags of free food. It was apparent that the Diggers did not discriminate with their handouts, which he found honorable.
Artwork, and empty frames, hung from the walls. A young couple blissfully occupied a two-person swing, suspended from the ceiling. Their laughter echoed throughout the building as the pair arced into the sky, seemingly on a mission to touch the exposed roof beams of the place.
Chick had wandered off, meeting and greeting old friends. Alex moved about the room, looking for Sarah. A painting on the far wall drew his attention. The girl pictured there bore a remarkable resemblance to Sarah. He was approaching it, when a hand grabbed his arm, stopping him. The swing creased the air in front of him.
“You need to be mindful of the swing,” a voice said softly from behind him.
He turned to face a girl with bright red hair and a smile on her freckled face.
“You must be new here. The regulars know to avoid the swing. My name is Sherry, but I get called Freckles a lot,” she said, pointing to her face.
“I’m Alex.” He shook her hand. “I thank you for saving my life.”
Sherry’s smile grew wider. “I doubt the collision would have killed you, but I have seen people lose limbs.”
Alex could not help but notice how cute the girl was. Her tee shirt was tight enough to see she was braless. Her jeans rode low on her hips and flared out at her sandaled feet. For the moment, he forgot about the painting.
“Do you work here?” he asked.
“Nobody works here. I volunteer to help out from time to time, here and at the Panhandle.”
“The Panhandle?”
“It’s a park not far from here. The Diggers serve up food there a few times a week. I usually give out the bean soup, which is our most popular dish. You’ve got to try it sometime.”
She edged up close to him, close enough to feel a breast against his arm. Her mouth moved to his ear, and he smelled the scent of vanilla on her breath.
“Look for me when you get there. I’ll give you extra beans.”
Then she was gone. Disappearing into the crowd before Alex could respond. He rubbed his arm where, a moment ago, a breast had been. He wondered if Sherry was freckled there too, and in his contemplative daze nearly fell victim, once again, to the treacherous swing.
They left the Diggers store not long after that. Upon closer inspection, the painting, that had almost cost him a limb, looked nothing like Sarah.
Alex confronted Chick as they made their way to the Free Clinic. “Why do they have a dangerous swing in the middle of their store? That thing could kill someone.”
“That’s the way we rid ourselves of inattentive individuals in our community. We bring them to the free store and let the diabolical swing do the rest,” Chick replied as he took a fresh joint from his shirt pocket and lit it up. “Writers, in particular, don’t last long in Haight-Ashbury. They daydream their way into oncoming swings. Fortunately for you, Freckles was nearby.”
The mention of Sherry took his thoughts back to the store. The painting on the wall that looked so much like Sarah from a distance, the pendulum like swing, Sherry’s breast on his arm.
“She’ll break your heart, you know,” Chick said as they neared the clinic.
Alex found that an odd thing to say about a girl he had just met, and who had yet to give him extra beans. Before he could reply, it dawned on him he was referring to Sarah.
“As I said before, she’s a free spirit and I doubt that anything, or anyone, could change her ways.” He offered his smoke to Alex, who gracefully declined.
“My advice is to enjoy your time with her, but to avoid a courtship. I might be wrong, but I believe that if you try to romance her, your story will have a sad ending,” he added, taking another long drag.
Chick’s words did not entirely convince Alex. Sarah’s actions still confused him. One minute she desired his company, the next she ignored him. He wanted her to be more like Sherry, who offered both breast and beans without provocation.
They rounded a corner into a row of Victorian homes. A sign hanging from the door of one announced The Free Clinic.
“We’re here,” Chick said, while rubbing out his reefer on the porch steps. “They prefer we abstain from drug usage while on the premises.”
A makeshift waiting room greeted them in the foyer. White plastic lawn chairs encircled the perimeter, all occupied with a young man or woman. A few sat on the foyer’s hardwood floor.
There were two closed doors on either side of the room. On one door a sign read DOCTOR ON CALL, the other read CALMING ROOM.
“If she’s here, that’s where you’ll find her,” Chick said, pointing to the calming room.
Alex nudged up next to Chick. “What exactly is a calming room?”
“Just what it says it is,” Chick replied. “It’s a place to back off of a bad trip, with the helping hand of a calming presence. In this case, that would be your lady in waiting, Sarah.”
Chick move closer to Alex and lowered his voice.
“The thing about acid is that it feeds off your vibes. Good vibes, no problem. However, let a bad one slip by and even the best acid will turn on you, usually without warning. It frequently happens with first timers not partnered up with an experienced user. Paranoia sets in and then it’s bad trip time.”
“Ever happen to you Chick?” Alex inquired.
“Once, but I think I got hold of some bad stuff. Do not buy anything off the street. When you are ready to try it, let me know. I’ll see that you get top quality.”
Chick walked away and was soon socializing with half the people in attendance. Alex stood close to he calming room door, waiting for it to open. When it did, minutes later, all conversation in the room came to an abrupt halt and every head turned toward the door.
Sarah walked out with a girl who looked to Alex to be no older than sixteen. Sarah’s arm wrapped around the girl’s waist and she was whispering into her ear.
The girl found whatever Sarah said to be amusing. Her face lit up as she smiled brightly. Sarah walked the girl to the front door as those assembled in the lobby silently watched.
Once again, Sarah whispered to the girl and then, to Alex’s amazement, the girl kissed Sarah, gently on her cheek and walked out the door.
Scattered applause broke out as Sarah turned back to the lobby. When she asked if anyone else needed her assistance, at least five hands went up.
“I don’t want to be tied up needlessly if an emergency arrives,” she said, and all the hands lowered.
She was making her way back to her room when she saw Alex.
“So, what brings you here on this fine summer day?” Sarah asked him before glaring accusingly at Chick, who vigorously shook his head no.
Before he had time to speak and seemingly satisfied that Chick was not the culprit, she motioned him into the room. In deference to the hand raisers, she left the door ajar.
Alex noticed that the small room contained but two items, a small bed and a chair. The walls displayed a light blue paint and pictures of pastoral settings, waves breaking on a beach, and flowers graced their surface. Candles placed on wall shelves lit the room. Alex thought the room suitably named. He immediately felt more relaxed, even in Sarah’s presence.
“Sorry” Sarah said as she patted down the creases on the bed’s sheet. “I just don’t trust Chick. He means well, but a good percentage of my customers refer to him by name.”
“I’ve been drug free for the day,” Alex responded with some pride.
Sarah, her back to him, said nothing as she continued to straighten the bed. Satisfied with its appearance, she turned to face him. She again wore a long white dress, but it was subtly different from yesterday’s attire. In place of the crown of flowers, she wore a single rose in her hair, near where it parted down the middle. He saw she was once again barefoot.
“Drugs are part of the culture here. I have no problem with marijuana, but L.S.D. is another story. It brings me too many patients on the days and nights I help out here.”
“You work here nights too?” Alex asked.
“Only when they expect a rush. During and after shows at the Fillmore, Winterland, and The Matrix are busy times.”
He caught her gazing at him intently. It felt like her eyes were probing his soul. He squirmed a little in his seat.
“I’ll be walking up to the park again this evening after I tuck in the children. I’d like your company if you have no plans.”
“I’m free tonight.”
“Good. I thought you might be leaving us.”
He thought of his close encounter with the swing and was about to ask her how she knew of that event, when he saw her looking at his back.
He glanced over his shoulder, briefly startled by the green canvas backpack. Between Sherry and Sarah, and a breast thrown in for good measure, he had forgotten he was carrying it.
He stared at it for a moment, trying to place its reason for being there, when it came to him.
“Chick took me shopping for some clothes,” he said with more than a little pride.
Sarah shook her head. “Please tell me you didn’t let Chick influence your buying decisions.”
He explained to her his preference for shirts of a solid color and pants without patches. He did not tell her about the maroon sunglasses however.
“Good for you Alex.” She was once again staring at him, but this time her eyes were playful and her voice mischievous.
“Be who you want to be. Dress anyway you like. Do not let anyone try to shape you into something you are not. It’s important you stand up for your beliefs, even if others think them wrong.”
In the lobby, a girl screamed. It was loud enough to cause Alex to flinch.
“Sarah, you have a customer,” a male voice said from opposite the door.
“Tonight then, on the porch,” Sarah said.
She touched his arm, very close to the spot where Sherry’s breast had been, and led him out of the room.
“I see fire!” the girl in the lobby shouted. “It’s bright! My eyes! It’s burning my eyes!”
Her male companion, who looked panic-stricken, held her up as she came through the door. For a brief instant, she looked at Alex as she passed him. Her eyes were blood red.
“Fire!” she cried to him before she was ushered into the calming room.
Alex felt the need to address the drug issue as they worked their way back to the house. The spectacle at the Free Clinic had shaken him to the core. Chick, however, wanted no part of it.
“As I said before, some have problems, especially first timers.”
Alex let it go at that, and, for the remainder of the trip, they walked in silence.
HOME
After they arrived at the house
on Ashbury Street, Chick disappeared and Alex went to the bedroom to try on his clothes.