The Secrets on Chicory Lane: A Novel(22)
There was a boyfriend named Andy for the latter half of my junior year and most of that summer. I suppose we were pretty serious for high school kids. We experimented with sex but didn’t go all the way; that just wasn’t done in 1970 or ’71, especially in our small town. I can’t remember why we broke up. We were both seniors and wanted to date other people, I guess.
I didn’t smoke in high school; I’ve never smoked tobacco. I first tried marijuana when I was in eleventh grade, though. Everyone experimented with it at least once, I believe, at least the more adventurous kids did. I did it only a handful of times when I was out with fellow cast members from a production or at a party. I’m sure Eddie was into it, and maybe other drugs, too. Because of the more relaxed restrictions then, it was also much easier for sixteen-and seventeen-year-olds to get alcohol. Sure, I had some wild nights, especially during my senior year. I wasn’t tied to a single boyfriend, and I had a crew of best friends—Marilyn and Janine. We called ourselves “The Unholy Three,” after an old movie starring Lon Chaney. It was on Strange Theater one Friday night when we were having a sleepover—that was Limite’s local TV station version of a weekly old horror film broadcast, complete with a newsman dressed up as Dracula and acting as a host.
Don’t get me wrong—I wasn’t a bad girl. I was actually a pretty good student; I received high grades and was in the Honor Society. Teachers liked me. Although I wasn’t one of the super-popular kids that got voted Most Beautiful or Wittiest or Most Patriotic, I did all right in high school. It was the best time I’d had in my life thus far, considering that the preceding years in junior high had been so awful.
On the contrary, Eddie became an outcast. He was one of the stoner kids who grew his hair long when the dress code rules were finally eased in ’71. He could often be seen hanging out with the guys most people deemed losers, occupying the smoking area behind the school. At that time, the students who smoked were not ostracized like they would be today—they were just relegated to a designated spot, which ultimately became littered with nasty cigarette butts. It was a janitor’s duty to clean it up every week. At any rate, Eddie did everything he could to project a bad boy persona. He even rode a motorcycle and wore a black leather jacket. Then, when he turned sixteen in 1971 and was about to enter eleventh grade, Eddie abruptly dropped out of high school and joined the army. Word on the street was that he faked his birth year since he looked older than he really was. He volunteered to go to Vietnam and was in a ground combat unit; I’m pretty sure most of the fighting units were brought home in ’72. The war was declared over for the US in 1973. That’s when Eddie must have returned to Limite. I’ll never understand why he joined the army. Probably to get away from his father. But I know for a fact that the experience pushed him further into darkness, and he came home a changed young man.
I graduated from high school in 1972 and, that summer, moved to Austin for college. I was eighteen. Finally, I was away from Limite and no longer had to live in the oppressive atmosphere that still informed my home. Eddie was far from my thoughts by then; he was still overseas. I completely missed his homecoming.
Austin between 1972 and 1976, my undergraduate years, was a fabulous place to be. The stimuli on campus were powerful and life-changing, and I truly found myself, just as most young people do when they go to college. New friends—longer lasting ones—and new lovers. One serious boyfriend my sophomore and junior years—and a bad breakup. More awareness of social issues and the youth counterculture. I got heavily into rock music and movies. Theater was my passion, and I majored in acting—although I was writing fiction more often in my spare time. I’d written a first novel by the time I was twenty. It was terrible, and I’m not sure I still own a copy. Back then everything was written on typewriters.
College was a time for more experimentation. I tried different recreational drugs, drank more alcohol, and had casual sex with boys. Signs of the times. Everything was about Peace and Love. The Vietnam War was a major concern on campus. It wasn’t really over until ’75. Then suddenly it was my senior year.
May of 1976—I turned twenty-two and graduated with a Bachelor of Fine Arts degree. I decided to attend graduate school and was accepted at Northwestern University in Evanston, Illinois. So I picked up and moved cross-country once again and found myself battling the Chicago winters for the first time. It was quite a contrast to Texas, but something about the city and people stuck with me, got under my skin. I fell in love with it. As it turned out, I never left.
The plane I am on begins to make its descent into the Houston area. Short flight, only a couple of hours. The time passed quickly, as I’d been lost in my thoughts. As we land, my mind focuses on the next major interlude in which my life intersected with Eddie’s. Who would have thought that during the Christmas break of 1976, when I was home visiting my parents, I would randomly bump into him and begin a torrid, passionate love affair?
9
Navigating Houston International Airport is easy, although it’s a big place. I catch the sight and smell of a favorite Mexican chain restaurant in the food court, and for a moment I’m tempted to stop and have a meal. But there’s no time, and it’s too early for dinner. I’d previously decided to rent a car to drive up to Livingston and stay in a hotel in town. It’s roughly an hour-and-a-half drive—not bad. Eddie’s lawyer recommended a couple of popular places to stay. I had Billy make my reservation at the newer Best Western. No doubt the Livingston and Huntsville hotel business accommodates a good deal of prison visitor traffic.