Chapter 21

For his birthday Jerry arranged a weekend for him and Chloe to go to Ashland, Oregon. Home of the Oregon Shakespeare Festival, this college town offered Broadway quality shows in a bucolic setting. Instead of super-sized billboards clamoring for attention, theatergoers were surrounded by the Siskiyou Mountains, with plenty of trails, parks and forests to get lost in. He purchased tickets for Death of a Salesman and Twelfth Night. It just happened to be Halloween week-end.

For the occasion, Chloe got a new pixie haircut that enhanced her soul stained eyes all the more. Together, they loaded up the Dasher and headed up I5. Chloe lit up a joint, and shortly after they pulled off the highway. Jerry slid over to the passenger side and Chloe hiked up her skirt and descended on top of him. He was so relieved that he stayed hard. Note to self, pot really helps.

They pulled into the Mark Antony Hotel after night fall. Jerry lugged their two bags down the dimly lit hallway and into their musty smelling room. Perky as ever, Chloe slipped by him, dropped her panties and bounced bottom first onto the fairy tale plush bed, and threw her splayed legs up into the air. Jerry swan dived on top of her, giving Chloe a fit of the giggles. Throughout the night, the dance continued. 

In the morning, they mooned into each others eyes. Breakfast was heavy and to work it off Jerry recommended a hike. They found a trail that followed a stream upwards into an ash forest. Its golden leaves shivered in the morning sun. They found a pool and skinny dipped in water warmed by the long summer.

Jerry had read Death of a Salesman in college and knew this would be no laugh fest. Chloe’s clowning went absent during intermission. After the play, she didn’t look at him. Jerry moved in for a hug, but she turned sideways. They shuffled up the aisle. Small talk surrounded them: “Where do you want to get a drink?”; “Are you going to put a costume on?”; “I hear the Mark Antony has a band.” That last one sounded good to Jerry. 

“Hey, let’s go dancing,” he said as they hit the street. Mist fell upon his face like cobwebs.

Chloe grimaced. “I’m tired. Must have been the hike. Let’s go back to the room.”

“It’s Halloween. The night’s young,” said Jerry.

“You go.” 

OK, that took him aback. Jerry chose not to remind her this was his birthday celebration after all.

They buckled up in the car, but Jerry didn’t turn on the ignition. He gazed through the windshield. A mass of droplets coalesced into a major drop and descended erratically down the glass. A pumpkin hued halo surrounded the streetlight ahead. 

He turned to Chloe. She turned her head away from him.  

He placed his hand between her shoulder blades. “Hey,” he said.

Her back trembled, then she gasped for air, followed by sobs. 

She turned back to him. Her face glistened. Jerry smelled the wet wool of her sweater jacket.

“That play was about my dad.”

Jerry’s eyes softened like pillows inviting her to rest hers there.

“When he died he didn’t have a job, and he never told anyone. My mom only found out after he was gone. 

“He was an advertising executive and when he was fired he kept commuting into the city, dressing up in a tie and jacket as if he had somewhere to go, coming back at night for dinner. 

“Then he got cancer, a very aggressive cancer, and he died within a couple of months.

“And,” her voice thickened, “I never went to visit him in the hospital. 

“I was awful to him, and that’s something I can never change. I never said goodbye, and I suck, I really suck.

“Oh man, I’m sure he knew you loved him.”

“No, no, he didn’t, that’s the thing.” Through gulps for air she said, “My mom begged me to go see him. I never thought he’d actually die. I don’t know why I didn’t go. Well…

“He would get drunk and come into my room and stick his tongue down my mouth and squeeze my boobs. And then he’d just laugh at my protests. 

“And when my mom came home and told me had had died, the way she looked at me, the scorn in her eyes, I couldn’t bear it.

“But tonight. I felt so sorry for my dad, what a shell of a life, and how alone he must have been when he died.”

“You did what you needed to do,” said Jerry.

“I was a brat.”

“That’s kind of harsh.”

“I was. Let’s go home.”

“Tonight?”

“To the hotel.”

They got back to the room, and Jerry stayed close beside her as they washed up. They slid under the covers, and Jerry pulled her in.

“Life has so much pain,” he said.

“Yeah.”

“Do you ever wonder why?”

“No.”