Gallivanting

I want no false coin from you.
I want you to come of your own free will.
-Philippa Gregory
"The Other Boleyn Girl"

May 27, 1984
Sunday

Today is Chris’ Dad’s birthday. He was going to spend the day with his pop, so I was not really expected to see him today. Chris did say he may telephone me. I decided to telephone him at noon but there was no answer. He called me at 12:30pm from his Dad’s pad.
“I just cleaned my Dad’s boat. And you know what?” Chris asked.
“No, what?” I asked.
“My Dad gave me his boat!” Chris announced happily.
I gave my two cents of congratulations on that remark when Chris asked, “Why don’t you meet me in Concord in about an hour?”
And so, like his puppet on his string I met him in an hour.

We went for a dip in the swimming pool and laid out, too. It amazed me when he went down under the water (and down on me). It was fun.


I sort of had the sniffles (probably because of the heat and coolness climate changes from having the Mustang convertible top down). I started to worry a little bit because I learned that Chris was never treated for his throat culture ordeal just because he felt ‘okay’. My throat started feeling raspy again. I know I am probably imagining things. It was probably a combination of that joint and a simple cold coming on. I am happy.

We escaped over to Cost Plus for a few items. We both bought safari hats.

Chris and I joined his folks for a dinner outing at Grogan’s in Walnut Creek. We had a good time. Chris’ mom is a sweetheart. She is so divinely likable. I dread thinking about her fatal outcome given her emphysema condition.

After dinner it was 9PM and Chris and I decided to check out ‘The Hub’. We danced the night away until Chris threw me for a loop.
“I’m going to ask that guy to dance,” Chris said smiling and in a straightforward sort of way.
I paused for a moment.
“Don’t expect me to be here when you get back,” I blurted after his annoying remark.
Chris got all pissed-off.

We left ‘The Hub’ and Chris revealed a surge of mishaps, jealousy and repetition in us to his former relationship with a guy named Tony. Chris was in a relationship with some guy named Tony for seven months. Tony, his ex-partner, was described to me (by Chris) as a partial black guy with green eyes.
“We just fluked it,” Chris said.
Fluked meant that they just “ended” it.
We continued to talk about this previous relationship and ended up arguing about other things like his going off to Eureka. And I couldn’t help throwing out references to things that Barbara had told me about his gallivanting.

Chris was hurt. I was hurt. He was hurt because I was hurt. I was hurt because he was hurt. As I write now I only feel that he was making ‘mountains out of mole hills’.

We made attempts to make up in the laundry room. Our bond started to get better.
“I don’t run your life,” I implored into him.
He agreed that I do not run his life. We seemed to be on good terms once again. We rounded up his sleeping bags and slept out on the nearby Concord hills. The bugs were a nuisance but we loved the night stars and each other’s company.