Chapter Ten Eight Vagabond Gypsies Part Four Invitation Only After I had acquired my new 1976 Dodge, Vardo style van, I slept for about two to four hours in that single bed, I was not only relishing my independence, rather, more so, my independence as well as the safety that my newfound van provided me with. When I had fully rested, I went back out to try and fly my beer sign for some food, some wine and perhaps even another blanket and a pillow for my van. I was happier than a pig in slop with the prospect of not having to worry about getting rained on or messed with while I was sleeping ever again. When I had gone out, I had made some money for a little food and my usual half-gallon of Burgundy wine in what I called a “Bum jug”. No time was wasted whatsoever in returning to the solace of my Vardo van, eating, drinking, listening to a little music on the F.M. radio and even taking a nap for another hour, maybe less. I had a nice little wine buzz going and I was feeling the need to go out and see if I could track down what Erica, Dove, Forest and Jude were doing. The first person that I saw was Erica. In retrospect, I can recall Erica quite vividly as in my own opinion I believe we would have considered ourselves to be more so intimate friend’s rather than “Friends with benefits”. I hope that I worded that last sentence correctly. As I was wandering the sidewalks in a sort of nice, floating “Day-Fade” (Being intoxicated during the day), I had a little food and was just wandering and somewhat wallowing in my own accomplishment, not a lot of wallowing, just a little mind you, dear reader, I met up with Erica. To best describe Erica, physically, well, to properly describe anyone physically for that matter, especially in the literary sense take’s a great deal of finesse, always with a degree of finesse. Erica, had a shaved head, (Due to a more recent case of head lice), was all of about five-foot eight inches in height and probably weighed about one-hundred twenty to about one hundred-thirty pound’s. In essence Erica had a very cherubic face and a personality for both fun as well as mischief. Make no mistake dear reader, Erica was a “Brick house” as far as her body went, big boned, with more feminine than masculine trait’s though, she had her own set of those too. Erica was, most assuredly is and will always most likely be a Lesbian until the day she dies, hopefully of a long, ripe old age as a powerful, insightful Woman who, perhaps one day may tell her Great Grand Children this same story as I am about to tell it to you dear reader. As I approached Erica, she did not seem to be in her usual happy state of mind. Erica seemed to be pretty lit (Drunk) herself, although, in all honesty she did not look to be having a good day fade rather more of appearing to be on a depressive emotional nose dive. I could only tell as I have been on a “Manic Crash” before and drinking never help’s to get rid of the depression only making it worse. When I asked her what was wrong, she couldn’t even answer me without breaking into tears. She just automatically hugged me and started literally crying hysterically on my shoulder. I never liked it when one of my friend’s, especially my street family were upset and Erica seemed really bad off, though, I could not get her to vocalize what was wrong through her tear’s. I finally told Erica that my mom had just wired some money to me and that I had acquired a used van conversion only a few Hour’s prior. I gave Erica a napkin from a sub sandwich that I had bought to blow her nose with. After Erica calmed down and her eye’s dried with her hysterical breathing down to a minimum once again, she looks at me with her brown eyes and say’s. “Really? You got a van??” “Yes Erica, my mom had sent me some money through Western Union and I paid for it about three-hour’s ago, I own it now…” As the realization had sunk in after a minute or two and Erica realized that that I was telling the truth and not simply exaggerating as most people might about something like that or leave out some minute, technical detail, it had finally sunk in that I was telling her the complete truth and not just a good part of it a wide smile came across her face. “Can I see your van?” “Sure, come on…” I gestured with my hand waving her in the direction of which I had found a good place to park the Van more solidly in a less conspicuous place on a residential street. “Really?” Erica said in a sort of disbelief. “Sure, it’s alright; I’m not some sort of Wingnut or anything.” I tried to reassure Erica that I was not trying to lure her into some sort of weird, un-comfortable situation as on the street’s I could have been some nutcase that would try to hurt her or take advantage of her, which was the furthest intention from my mind. I suppose, in my mind and even my spirit I often have this want, need or desire to always’ be there to help a woman in distress, out of the current harmful situation that she might be in, well, dear reader, come to think of it, anyone for that matter. As we made it a few blocks from downtown and into a residential neighborhood where I had my van quietly stashed, I motioned with Erica to not say anything until we were in the Van safely as I did not want to draw any attention to the neighbor’s that we might have been camping in there as I could not afford the two-hundred and seventy dollar camping ticket.
Above is an excerpt from Chapter Ten |
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