Double Tears
Chapter 109
“Satisfy people’s desire for the ridiculous and they will accept your idea of the sublime.”
—Maurice Willson Disher, Clowns & Pantomimes
8 JULY 2020
We’ll be leaving shortly. The ‘time off’ has been limited. I’ve rehearsed the serious stuff with Cindy each day but not with the intrusion of our teachers. That’s something I’ve learned about musicians. We are expected to know our parts and be able to put them together with other musicians on demand. That’s a bit I might have trouble with. It has to be note perfect.
Monday night, Em and I spent the night with Nanette. It was wonderfully peaceful and refreshing. As well as sexy as hell. It’s like Em knows our oldest lover’s body like she knows her own. And our conversations are far more life-oriented rather than school and growing up. I’d have to say, if nothing else, Em has aged over the past year. It doesn’t show in her body but it shows in her speech and her opinions. My own opinions were handed down from another life. I spend most of my time correcting them. Emily’s are being grown from within and it is very difficult to contradict her.
And my truck is running in top-notch form. Thanks to Em. She said that part of driving was maintaining your vehicle so it never let you down. I hadn’t looked under the hood of a vehicle in twenty-five years and was amazed at what I saw. Em gave me an instruction course on both the mechanics and the electronics.
Rachel and Livy are in bed with us. I’ll be separated from them three and a half weeks before I see them again. Or Nanette or Donna. When Donna asked us to stay over Sunday night, it wasn’t for her benefit but for Beca’s. We did our best to get her to join us, but in the end, Donna went to bed alone while Em and I did our best to show Beca how much we loved her.
This morning, Em and I will pick up Sophie, Brittany, and Desi for the trip to Denver. At least this time, I have another experienced driver who can share the task with me. 1200 miles is a long way and we need to be camped by Friday afternoon with the Denver Renaissance Festival opening at four o’clock.
The girls said they wanted to go for a fast run this morning before we leave. That means I’d better wake them up.
There is nothing to be said for the drive across Indiana, Illinois, Iowa, and Nebraska on I-80 except, ‘Damn, it’s a long way!’ At least it was a different route than repeating I-70 yet again. We were on the road by seven-thirty after tearful goodbyes with Mom, Dad, Pey, Rachel, Livy, and Nanette. Em and I split the driving and pulled into a Motel 6 near Des Moines for the night. Luxury accommodations with two queen-size beds and five of us to sleep. I was amused when the coin toss was to see who would get to sleep with Em and who had to sleep with me. Desi and Brittany shared me nicely between them but we ended up in a fit of giggles over all the moaning and noise coming from Sophie and Em. We finally told them we all needed to get some sleep or we’d be too tired for another long drive tomorrow.
At least in Des Moines, there was a Starbucks a couple of blocks away from the motel and we ate breakfast sandwiches and got huge cups of coffee. For comfort’s sake, we rode two in the front with the center rest down to hold our coffee and three in the back. Sophie joined me up front and kept me talking about what I might write for a story performance. Cindy and I talked a little about it in our two rehearsals but hadn’t arrived at a conclusion about what we’d do. Her mom always seemed to be at the door of the practice room during any silence in our playing and we didn’t want to expose our plan just yet.
Desi and Emily took the second half of the drive to Big Springs, Nebraska and I got left seat in the back with Sophie sandwiched between Brittany and me. The sleeping arrangements in Big Springs were about the same as Des Moines, thanks to another Motel 6. This time, Sophie gave me all her attention while Brittany and Desi tag-teamed Emily. No one had to call a halt to things because we were all so tired from the long drive we didn’t need to be prompted to go to sleep. There’s no Starbuck’s in Big Springs and we satisfied ourselves with greasy breakfast burritos and trucker coffee at Flying J.
Brittany rode shotgun in the morning, making sure I made the turnoff from I-80 to Denver and using GPS on her phone to guide me to the Renaissance Village. The farther West you get, the more liberally the notion of a Renaissance Festival was taken. We’d had our share of pirates and steampunk in Kansas, but in Denver, an entire portion of the festival grounds was taken up with Frontier Town. A permanent frontier settlement and fort was more the focus of the festival with the typical Renaissance village set up as a temporary addition. I wasn’t sure how it would work with our music.
“Just play what you usually play,” Riko said. Cindy and her mom flew in that morning and were already in the booth when we got camped and arrived. “But let’s change up the costuming for the girls.” She produced four western costumes that had them dressed more as saloon girls. Betty started to protest and Riko handed her a costume, too. She looked pretty good as a gunslinging madam.
We kept to most of the typical music and acting Friday night, returning to the Renaissance portion of the village for our two performances on a little stage. It was interesting that the girls looked pretty much as at home in their costumes in the Renaissance village as they did in the western settlement and fort. I didn’t change costumes and for all intents and purposes looked more like a Kwai Chang Caine when we walked through the village. Of course, Cindy had a sort of Chinese flute she called a dizi that she used when we were in the western part of the fair. It worked pretty well.
Friday night, I looked up the theme music for Kung Fu and practiced it. I introduced Cindy to it Saturday morning, and master that she is, she picked it up right away. We were early enough we could practice a while and found a second, longer theme called ‘Dragon’s Eye.’ We added both pieces to our repertoire and were very successful in our performances throughout the long day. I did a lot of tapping on the lute instead of strumming to add the percussion aspects to the piece while Cindy carried the flute part.
“This should show you that you can quickly improvise to the story,” Em said. “You and Cindy can put music to any theme. You need to improvise more.” I guessed she was right. Saturday night when we crawled into our tent, there was no question about who was sleeping where. Em was flying out to San Diego Sunday afternoon and shared her warmth with me as we made love much of the night. More or less quietly.
When the troupe returned to the booth after our first afternoon performance, we found Emily packed and ready to go. Betty had kindly volunteered to drive her to the airport. We each—Desi, Brittany, Sophie, and I—had a long kiss goodbye. Cindy hugged Em and gave her a kiss on the cheek. Em whispered something to her and then she and Betty were off. The rest of us still had five hours of performing to go and we headed out. At least this time it would only be a week before I saw her again.
It was an interesting drive to San Francisco. Cindy and Betty turned in their rental car Monday morning and joined Desi, Sophie, and Brittany in the truck. She raised an eyebrow when she saw the bed in the back of the truck as I packed their bags in the back. It was pretty much covered with luggage and I just said, “I use it when we’re camped at the festival.” That seemed to put her mind at ease. She and Cindy claimed the front seat and I was thankful Cindy provided a buffer between us.
And Betty wasn’t afraid to drive the big truck. We traded back and forth as we headed up I-25 to rejoin I-80 in Wyoming and then head west. Wyoming is really pretty along that stretch with a number of mountain passes. But there really wasn’t suitable accommodation until we reached Park City, Utah. It was a long day and after a decent meal, we went to our rooms. Cindy, of course, camping with her mother, who intently looked elsewhere as the girls and I went to one room. A room with a king-size bed and a nice bath.
It was a toss-up as to how far we’d go on Tuesday with Betty and me once again sharing the driving. It was a long and boring drive to Reno. Betty had just begun her first leg of the trip when she realized Sophie was sitting beside her with Brittany riding shotgun. She looked in the mirror with concern and found me already leaning against the passenger door in back with Cindy in the middle and Desi on the left. She couldn’t say too much as Cindy was the smallest of the three and I guess she didn’t complain when she saw all three of us leaning to the right sound asleep.
She pulled into Winnemucca, Nevada and declared that was all for today. We found a hotel that had a Basque restaurant in it and we got our rooms and met for a fun, relaxing family-style meal. If you’ve never gone to a Basque restaurant, don’t miss the opportunity.
Wednesday morning, we were beginning to feel refreshed and I headed west with Sophie and Brittany beside me. Betty took the back seat with Cindy and Desi. I guess she was beginning to gel as part of the company. She directed me to the Grand Sierra in Reno, even though it was only one o’clock when we got there. V1 hadn’t been to Reno in thirty years but was sure this had once been the Hilton. Even though it was hot as blazes, I had to get out for a run. I found a great trail down by the Truckee River and just stretched my legs. There was plenty of shade and I had my CamelBak water pouch. I got back to the hotel and sacked out after my shower. I guess the girls had all gone shopping. There wasn’t much else they could do as most of us weren’t old enough to go into the casino.
Betty collected us all at six and took us to the Charlie Palmer Steak restaurant. This was way outside any of our budgets.
“It’s Cindy’s fifteenth birthday,” Betty said. “We’re on a marvelous adventure with our friends and I want to treat everyone to her birthday party.”
“Happy quinceañera!” Brittany said excitedly. “This is the day you get to dance with any boy you like!” Betty looked at her severely. As if that was going to happen.
It was a truly incredible meal. You know, people could afford to eat at more fancy restaurants if they didn’t need drinks and wine. The tab was probably half what it would have been if we weren’t all underage except Sophie and Betty. Neither of them had alcohol, either.
Like all these resorts, GSR has a shopping mall. Modest if you compare it to something like The Venetian or Caesar’s Palace, but Sophie skillfully guided Betty into Allure, a trendy sportswear shop, while the rest of us stayed in the hall.
“This is your opportunity,” Brittany said. “Have your birthday dance!” Soft music was piped into the hall and I recognized a waltz.
“Miss Marvel, may I have the pleasure of dancing with you in celebration of your quinceañera?” I said, bowing to her.
“Here?” she squeaked. I held out my hand. She took it and I led her into a dance. She might have expected we were just going to clutch and shuffle as I’m sure that’s all she’d ever seen teens do. But Cindy is a musician and has an innate sense of rhythm, so when I led her into a basic waltz step, she followed. I wasn’t sure what Sophie was doing to keep Betty occupied, but we continued dancing into the next song and the next. When we finished with that one, Cindy was beaming at me and I bowed to her.
“All right, you had your birthday dance,” Betty huffed from beside my girlfriends. “If you’d told me that was all you wanted for your birthday, I wouldn’t have bothered buying all this.” She held up a shopping bag and like all teen girls I’d ever met, Cindy squealed and ran to open her presents.
We had the early bird breakfast at the buffet and I stopped at Starbuck’s to get a large Americano before we headed to the truck for the last 200 miles of the trip to San Francisco.
This venue had no permanent buildings at all and was set up in Golden Gate Park. Of course, there was no camping, so we were all registered at what I was sure was the cheapest hotel in the area. At least I’d be able to get a run in early in the morning in this park. There was a section of the village that had a definite ‘Gold Rush’ feel to it, but mostly we were back to a focused Renaissance theme. We returned to our normal costumes and had a great time entertaining on the pathways and the little stages set up around the area. The Festival started at noon on Friday and closed at sundown, according to park rules. It was much less formal in its organization and we could pretty much stop and perform anywhere in the park. On the other hand, it probably had three times the number of vendor booths as Denver and near double that of Kansas.
The big downside was that everything in the booth had to be locked up in cases at night, so Riley and Riko closed shop an hour before the show closed in order to get everything secured. The festival had security guards that patrolled but everything had to be buttoned up tight. On the other hand, people in San Francisco seemed to love dressing up in costumes. I think they sold more at this one-weekend show than they had in Kansas and Denver combined. And neither Riko nor Riley batted an eye over selling dresses to guys.
Sunday night, everything was down and packed in the truck by eight. For us, the show was over. We went back to the hotel for dinner and in the morning, Desi and I were out front to hug Brittany, Sophie, and Cindy as the airport shuttle arrived to pick them up. I was floored when Betty hugged me and then Desi.
“I’m still concerned,” she said. “But I’m growing to trust you.” As soon as they were out of sight, I kissed Desi and headed for my truck with a large coffee in hand. San Francisco is one of the places in this country where you can get a really good espresso without patronizing a major national chain. I was off and headed for San Diego. I picked up I-5 and set the cruise control.
All I can tell you is that California is a fucking long state. I-5 through California is only about 80 miles shorter than I-10 across Texas. My 500-mile drive took all day. I couldn’t risk getting too tired and distracted in this traffic. It’s always rush hour in Los Angeles. The other thing apparent to me was that California had never figured out the concept of rest areas. I pretty much set my GPS to follow from Starbuck’s to Starbuck’s as I drove south.
I pulled in to the parking lot at Em’s campus at seven. She pulled in right beside me.
“J! You’re here!”
“I’m here, my love. Exhausted, but I’ve arrived.”
“It’s been a crazy day but I have three days off just to be with you.”
“The con doesn’t start until Thursday night, so I have three days to be with you.”
“Let’s go get a shower and go to bed.”
I grabbed my bag and my guitars and followed Em to her dorm room. The rooms were pretty decent. There was a small common living area, a bath, and four bedrooms. You could tell this was set up as a study pod and I wondered if people in these arrangements managed to have longer term relationships with each other. Em had once mentioned having sex with her roommate. I wondered if I’d meet him or her.
We grabbed showers, ordered a pizza, and settled into bed.
“I’m selfish, I know,” she said, “but I just want to make love to you all week. Do we need to do touristy stuff while you’re here?” She sounded a little down and I cuddled her close to me.
“What’s going on, love?” I asked.
“I’m getting transferred,” she sighed. “This will be my last weekend delivering groceries. I ship out on Monday.”
“Ship out? Where to?”
“Would you believe they threatened to send me to Guam for the rest of my service? I grinned at my manager and said, ‘Nice.’ It’s a tropical island and I’d be running a tractor carting pineapple or something. When he saw I wasn’t going to change my mind and sign the career extension, he finally shoved my transfer papers at me. I’m headed for Salina, Kansas.”
“What the fuck is in Salina, Kansas?”
“Nothing. It’s in the middle of the biggest wheat producing area of the country,” Em said. “The harvest just ended and tons of wheat are sitting in storage. For the next three or four months, I’ll be driving a grain truck from point to point, essentially, anyplace the railroad can’t conveniently transport it.”
“How can that be, Em? Isn’t that all private industry? Truckers must be pretty pissed.”
“It’s operated as an adjunct to the railroad. The railroad is a government subsidized industry. Part of the subsidization is labor. I’m lucky in a way. If I’d joined right out of school like Joan did and turned down promotion, I might have been sent there in June. Then I’d have spent the hottest part of the summer driving a grain truck behind the harvesters in the fields.”
“It seems so ridiculous,” I fumed. “They’re doing this to punish you, aren’t they?”
“Yes, in a way. They can’t legally intimidate a serviceman into taking a specific promotion or signing an extension. We’re civilians. But they can still assign us to any job they want to. With the tightening of the borders, we’re becoming the migrant workers of the twenty-first century. We’re a labor force that’s eight million strong that can be sent to any government interest—even to local governments who contract with the Feds.”
“What happens when the wheat is all moved?”
“My best guess is I’ll be sent south into Texas to help with the cotton harvest. It’s always possible I’ll be put on a cattle truck, of course.”
“I’m so glad you only have a year remaining,” I said.
“Eleven months and two weeks,” she sighed.
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