Some Truth Ch. 3

Meanwhile, in 'sixty-nine, I had discovered a really good band from down south, by the name of Storm. The bass player, Doug, who had a cute little wife and a cute little spider monkey as well, invited me to come to their sessions, so I started going to some of their practices and gigs and twisting knobs for them. That led me into the inside bar scene enough to hook up with a British band that on their arrival in Lima, first played at the Spring Brook Gardens at the north edge of Lima, then played at the Guagenti's club called the Warehouse which was next to the old cigar factory in Lima. The band's name was Cream. Yep, the Cream with Eric Clapton and Ginger Baker in it. I thought they were a bunch of drugged out junkies at the time, based on how they acted off stage, at the cruddy little apartment the Guagentis gave them to stay at between shows, but, hey, what did I know. They weren't getting along very well with each other, and the skinny was that the Guagentis wanted to be rid of them, and they were just about to be deported by the government. Baker left town before the others, I guess to return to England, but I didn't really know what was going on with them. I also mixed for a band called Ohio Power, who were an excellent group with a line-up, style and sound a lot like the band "War" who had made it nationally. A very powerful and big sound, enhanced by an awesome horn section, and strong vocals. They almost went "Big Time". The drummer for them was Henry "H-Bomb" Weck, who went to classes at the Lima branch of Ohio State, where I went to college, and was a hero of mine, as he was a truly nice guy with a ready smile and a positive attitude for everyone. After we got married in 'sixty-eight, my wife, Patty and I had been staying at my parents house while I was attending college, working at a Clark gas station, and, during the Christmas season, working at the Post Office. I was coming home after my shift at the Clark station ended at midnight, trying to study for my classes, and taking care of the changing of diapers and the night time feeding of our newborn son Jaime, so that Patty could get some sleep during the night. It was a good experience for both Jaime and I, as we remained very close until he was four, when Patty and I divorced. Poor kid. Walking away from him is the hardest thing I've ever had to do in my life. I love him and I am deeply proud of him. My wife Patty and my Mom weren't getting along, which I blamed mostly on my Mom's impatience and over-protectiveness of me, so we moved to Patty's parents' house. This was a close arrangement, due to a small house, but they were a close, good-natured family, and we were both much happier there into the following year. The strain on everyone was evident though, and I was yearning to find a job that paid well enough for us to live on our own. I finally found one, on June ninth, the end of springtime in 'sixty-nine working for the United Telephone Company. Patty and I moved into a duplex on North Elizabeth Street in the north side of Lima shortly after I started working for the telephone company. We didn't know anyone in the neighborhood, but on Grand Avenue, the next cross street North of us, there was a convenience store and a laundromat within a block and a half walking distance, and family came by to visit, most often being Fred. Fred was Patty's brother, whom I loved like the brother I never had, and who was a decorated vet of the Viet Nam war. I was building a racecar, with the help of my high school buddy John Moss, out of an old fifty-seven Chevy station wagon that my Father-in Law had given me. I started experimenting with marijuana at this general time, that a guy at work turned me onto, which upset my buddy John, but induced Fred to visit more often. I met the neighbors' son, Terry, as a result of the pot, that fall. He was into some much harder drugs, which I knew nothing about, but was about to learn of, the hard way. He told me one Friday, that he had to make a road trip to get some money that was owed to him, and out of general politeness I asked about it. In my mind, I associated road trips with me and my friend Dan Mills running down to Indian Lake to chase girls in his Pontiac Tempest, while the song "Indian Lake is the scene you should make, In the summer time," blasted on the car radio, so I wasn't thinking of any dire consequences. He said, "Hey, I might have some trouble collecting my money, and you're a big guy, why don't you come along and make it look like I've got some extra muscle." I said if he needed me to, I'd be glad to help out. The next day, Saturday afternoon, we got into his friend's Mustang, a guy I'd never seen before, and didn't know at all, and headed out. We made a couple of stops, the one to get pop and candy bars being the only time I got out of the car, and then took to the highway. After a very long ride, during which I fell asleep sitting in the back seat, we stopped, which woke me up. We were parked on a very narrow street next to a chain-link fence. I had no idea at all where we were. Terry said "I'll be back in a minute, I've got to go check things out." and climbed out of the car and disappeared. Blue lights pulled up behind us, flashing and reflecting off of everything like they do, and we had cops with flashlights at each of the two doors. No problem, we weren't doing anything wrong, as far as I knew. They asked what we were doing sitting here at this time of night. We didn't have a good answer, because we didn't know. Then they asked if they could search the car, and the driver said, "Go ahead." They looked everywhere, and underneath the spare tire in the trunk, covered by a blanket, they found a white box, a little smaller than a shoebox, with a plastic bag in it full of capsules of some kind. We were hauled into the police station and put into separate holding cells. My one phone call was answered by my Mom, and thank God she came to my rescue on the following Monday. She couldn't come get me until I went to an arraignment hearing on Monday morning. It was a long two nights in jail, and the cops were taking me into a room and interrogating me repeatedly, trying to get me to change my story, and admit to knowing about that box, of what they said was a thousand hits of speed, but I couldn't tell them something I knew nothing about. It all ended when I took a lie detector test, after my arraignment, that I had agreed to, and which proved I was telling the truth. I was just a naïve farm boy from the country. I didn't know anything about any drugs, except a few tokes I'd taken off of some herb. When they finally dropped the charges against me and released me, Mom took me home. I don't know. I must have "liar" written across my forehead, because no one ever believes what I say until I prove it. Maybe I don't give enough of a damn to push myself onto people dynamically enough to be believed. Whatever, take it or leave it. Once I've had my say, I don't give a rat's ass if you believe me or not. I'm not going to argue about trivial bullshit. You'll find out sooner or later, even if it is the hard way, and if you don't, so what, no sweat off my back. I never saw Terry again after that, but since he wasn't at the police station, I assumed he never got caught. I suspected that he was a nark, and the whole thing was a setup. Patty and I moved to a nicer house closer to my job, and tried to smooth things out between us. I didn't know enough to go very slowly and gentle her along when it came to having sex. I would lick her pussy as she would be trying to climb naked out of the shower, and she always seemed to enjoy what I was doing for her. When I would try to take it to the next level, she would go cold on me, as I was too hot-blooded and anxious, so I couldn't seem to live up to her romantic expectations. I thought that it was her fault, and she thought that it was mine. I suggested that she try having sex with someone else to get some experience, as I had been her first and only. She did that, a week or so later, with Jim Douglas, a guy whose obit I read a few years ago, in two thousand nine, who happened to be a fellow I worked with every day at the telephone company. The idea of her giving her pussy to another guy, for some reason I cannot understand or explain, excited the hell out of me, but the reality of doing it only made matters worse. A week later, we decided to try for another baby, a personal sacrifice she was making for me, even though she was completely uncomfortable with intercourse, as a means of renewing our commitment to each other. Between her fertility and my virility, it didn't take long before all the signs indicated that we had succeeded. Then I started worrying that we should have taken longer before we tried, because now I would never be certain that it wasn't the guy I worked with, Jim's child. Nine months later, Patty was in the hospital in the beginning stages of a hard labor, from where I had just gotten home, and Jim showed up at my door as I was unlocking the front door to go into the house. He told me that he had a couple of hot girls who wanted to party, and asked if he could have them come over to my place, since it's so much bigger. I think we can read that as "cleaner". By then, I hadn't had any sexual activity in almost three months, and being the selfish idiot I am, I told him to go ahead. Boy, How much dumber can a twenty-one year old guy get? Well, at least I hadn't killed anyone...yet. Jim and the girls showed up an hour later, and I took one upstairs, while he took one downstairs to the basement I had fixed up. The girl I was with immediately stripped. Man, she had some big melons, but only tiny indentations where she should have had nipples, just like the end of a melon. I didn't even know what this girl's name was. She started pulling my clothes off of me, and was telling me what a nice big cock I had, and how lucky my wife was, and... That was it. When she mentioned my wife, my guilty conscience took over, as I thought about my beautiful Patty up at the hospital, giving birth to my second son, and nothing could have gotten me hard again. I explained what the deal was to her, and apologized for being a disappointment to her, and told her there was no way I could be that cold towards the woman I loved, and was committed to, who was lying in a hospital bed at that moment, going through a tough labor with my baby. We dressed and went back downstairs and waited on the couch for Jim and his girl to come back upstairs. A half hour later they were all gone. I have since been told how during Patty's pregnancy, I screwed every loose woman in town, but "Melons" was the closest I ever came to it. Besides her, I never saw any bare skin except Patty's. The other stories the gossips spread about me, just never happened. I was honest, and told Patty about the whole evening, and that all that happened was that I saw the girl naked and she held my dick. That ended up with me not being believed and us becoming separated, as I could no longer find the spirit to argue with her, and so, moved out. Too bad there wasn't a lie detector there for that instance. It didn't do much to make me feel open to working things out between us, that in the back of my mind was that constantly nagging thought that Jim Douglas was actually the father of our newborn baby boy. 71 3.23/512345