“I toast all of you,” I said. “Truly you are the survivors of both capitalism and the rapacious, fanatic counter-culture it spawned. When I said earlier that I envied you your freedom, I was bullshitting. I thought you were just another cadre of dumb hippies. But I was wrong to condescend. I apologize. In a small way, you have life by the ass and I salute you.” They didn’t quite know how to react. The joint was passed to me and I inhaled deeply. I was expecting more applause or laughter. Instead, through the blazing fire I got warm smiles and puzzled looks.
“What do you do back in L.A., man?” Brother Randy asked.
I gave it some thought. Another joint came my way and I hit again. This time even deeper. It was good shit. I hadn’t been blown away on weed since my Hollywood Vice days, but I was getting there now; drifting into a shadow world of fantasy. I considered Brother Randy’s question for a second, then answered: “I do my best to survive. Most of the time it’s easy, but lately it’s been tough. Mostly I repossess cars. I hope you people dig property rights enough to realize that repo men are necessary. We keep the credit racket in line, and keep America from going insane and bringing back the days of debtor’s prison. People like you, the so-called counter-culture, can exist only in places where capitalism is strong. I used to be a cop, but I gave it up. I saw too much stuff I couldn’t tolerate.”
I stopped and took a blow off the pipe that was handed to me, became full-out zonked and surveyed my rapt audience. The women looked very beautiful. When I returned to my story, I took off on a rhapsody of poetic lies: “The corruption, the racism, the violence, I couldn’t handle it. Dealing with so many lost people, most of whom were wearing blue uniforms, the young people trying to live differently, more honestly than their parents, and how the cops reviled them for their lifestyle. The blacks in the ghettos, the winos, the homeless derelicts of Skid Row. There was a gentle side to me I couldn’t express, so in the end I quit. What I really wanted to do was learn to play the violin. But I didn’t have the patience or the drive to pursue it.” It had started out to be rhapsodic bullshit, but on finishing I felt that the whole fabric of lies contained some intrinsic truth that I couldn’t put my finger on. I was floating so high on weed and dog meat that everything seemed within my reach, but this eluded me.
“So you came to Baja looking for something, right, Fritz?” This was from Sister Carol.
I laughed. “You could say that.”
“Do you think you’ll find it?”
“I’m not sure.”
“How old are you?” my favorite, Sister Kallie, asked. Warm antennas or tendrils seemed to drift toward me from her direction. Her head seemed to be enclosed in a halo.
“Thirty-three.”
“That’s not too old to change your life,” she said. “You’ve been through some heavy shit. Pain causes growth. You could still be a great violin player. I learned the guitar when I was twenty-four.”
“Thanks. Maybe you’re right.”
The party started to break up. Everyone except the sullen Brother Bob wished me good night and invited me to return any evening to enjoy their hospitality. I told them I would take them up on it, only next time I would bring steaks and beer. They then wandered off, grabbing their bedrolls and heading for cozy sand drifts. Except for Kallie. She stayed behind, sitting cross-legged across from me by the remnants of the fire.
“Are you the odd woman out, Kallie?” I asked.
“Not really. Mark and I are together. I just felt like staying behind and rapping for a while.”
“Thanks. I wasn’t quite ready to walk back to my room yet.”
“You know, I didn’t believe most of what you told us. I believe you were a cop, all right. You look like one. But the rest of it was a con job, right? I mean about being sickened by the violence and racism and all that. Right?”
“I guess so.”
“Why did you lie?”
“I’m not sure. I wanted you people to like me and I wanted to move you on a level you could appreciate, but I didn’t want to give up too much of myself in the process, I guess.”
“You’re in trouble, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Bad trouble?”
I nodded.
“I knew it. It’s your eyes. They’re scary. They’re not indent, whatever that is.”
“You’re not afraid of me, are you?”
“No. You’re scared enough for the both of us. I’ve got good antenna. I can tell when someone’s hurting. You’re hurting bad.”
“I’ll be all right, I think. There are some things I have to do down here, and a big mess waiting for me back in L.A. I’ve been drinking, but that’s over, so I should be okay. I appreciate your concern, Kallie. You’re a lovely young woman.”
“Do you have a girlfriend?”
“I hope so. I got involved with a woman in L.A. just before I left, but I’m not sure what will happen when I return.”
“I was just wondering.”
“I’ve got some business to attend to that should keep me busy down here another few days. I’d like to see you again.”
“I don’t think that’s possible. I want to give you something, but I don’t want to get involved.”
“I guess I was being forward. I’m sorry. I’m very stoned. It’s a strange sensation.”
“Don’t be sorry, Fritz. I like you. I’ve got a thing for men who are hurting. It’s kind of sick, I guess. If you want, you could stay with me tonight.”
“I’d like that.”
“Please don’t misunderstand me. I don’t want to get it on. I’m not promiscuous. I’ve got an aura. I can impart good feelings to people in trouble without sex. I’m a love carrier. I can help you. If you could see your own face, then you’d know how bad your vibes are.”
“I’ll do anything you like, sweetheart.”
Kallie led me to a high sand drift away from the other brothers and sisters. We laid out a large double sleeping bag and got in with our clothes on. We held hands and cracked jokes for about an hour. After a while exhaustion caught up with me and I started to drift off. Kallie placed my head on her breasts and gently ran her fingers through my hair until I fell asleep. I awoke in that same position hours later, as dawn broke across the water. Kallie had bared her breasts during the night and they were flushed and sweaty from the weight of my head. As I came awake, she did too. I looked at her expectantly, hoping her nakedness meant that we could now make love, but Kallie shook her head. We stood up and embraced.
“Thank you,” I said.
Kallie nodded and squeezed my hand. “Don’t come back, Fritz. I know you. You’ll do something to blow it here. I’ll remember you in my meditations. Count on that.” It was very final. I kissed her on the cheek and walked back to my life.
My room looked different when I returned to it. The squalor of peeling paint, the musty smell and the rusty furnishings caused me a long moment of self-revulsion. But that passed. The past was dead and there was a future to contend with. I started by pouring the remains of my Scotch down the sink. Then I carted my records up the fire escape to the roof of the building and sailed them off” in the direction of the housing development. Most of them died abruptly, but some managed to land on the roofs and gravel front yards of the impoverished dwellings. It made me feel good, like a god sending culture to the culturally deprived.