Last night, I slept as close to Jenifer as two layers of mummy bags will allow in cold weather. There was definitely some electricity between us but we kept our hormones in check and bonded closer mentally. I was on one side of her and Kristoff was on the other. Nothing dishonorable occurred; we were all exhausted from the events of the first show day and snuggling beneath the tarp. I definitely was just playing it cool around her (I hope) because (1) any decision for her to make concerning us being together must be done with complete freedom and (2) I didn’t want to piss Kristoff off by making him think I was muscling in on “his” girl and possibly provoke an anger response which might make Jenifer choose me. Actually I was tempted to attempt the second option but that dumb southern mentality I have of “dancing with the one that brung ya” kicked in.
There were a lot of various tensions going on in my mind when I entered the stadium for the second and final show in Eugene, OR. Of course I was tripping, not as hard as yesterday in case any evil looking clowns decided to show up, but hard enough. The show was great; Jerry came out on stage and I cheered like a veteran when he gave his winning smile and started jamming. He really does resemble a big teddy bear much like the Grateful Dead icons depict. Everything was cool. Sitting in the sunshine with my girl, my long hair flowing down my back and wearing nothing but a pair of shorts made from an American Flag. We were totally digging the show when this guy sitting soft of next to us said “Isn’t your name Jenifer?”
I could tell right away it was bad by the look she got on her face. When she turned to see him her dead eyes and relaxed muscles only communicated “I can’t believe this is happening” over and over.
I shouldn’t probably mention that the first time Jenifer ever had sex she was date raped. One of our earliest discussions was about losing our virginity so I knew about the “evil first guy.” I knew how much this guy had traumatized her—as much as a male can ever understand being raped—and I knew how it led to a bunch of different insecurities and doubts in her life, as well as a revulsion that occurs whenever she hears the G-N-R “Appetite For Destruction” album because it was playing at the time of the incident. She never went into the graphic details, and I had assumed she only told me about it out of respect, but I secretly hoped I could ever get my hands on the guy. I would beat him into a bloody pulp for hurting her. This was a confrontation I never expected to happen because he supposedly moved to Washington shortly after it happened. Even though Jenifer, being young and confused, never reported the rape to any authority figure it did happen.
Surprise, surprise. She grew up and he grew up and 6 years later on they’re both on vacation in Oregon and end up sitting less than ten feet from each other at a Grateful Dead concert. Both Kristoff and I could tell something was wrong before she told us, but instead of beating the piss out of the bastard like I always imagined I would, I got scared. Physically hurting him would not have been a problem. I had the size on him and the anger was definitely there for a beat-down, but I got scared, interestingly enough, for her. I knew she was tripping really hard and I was afraid that being confronted by this old trauma would cause her to have a mental breakdown and flip out like some bad sixties horror story. It was such a strange situation going from a peaceful and loving drugged-out state to being thrust into a situation where I didn’t know how to react. It all happened so quickly. When I looked at Kristoff he looked really scared for her too. Fortunately Jenifer has one of the strangest personalities I know. She’s got a measure of control not many people could ever attain, though I could tell the discipline this time was fragile at best, so we shuffled her off towards the porta potties.
Later she told me that being at the “Grateful Dead” show surrounded by so much happiness and good vibes was the only place it seemed okay for a fucke—up confrontation like that to occur. I asked her if she wanted me to find him and beat his ass but she said “no” and fortunately for him (or me) the malicious looks shot in his direction made him back off during the show. His reacting like a wounded dog told me that he knew he was guilty in his soul and the darting of his eyes confirmed it. I can’t really comprehend why he would try and play it off, the fucking nerve of introducing himself as if nothing ever happened. Maybe that’s what the fucker has been trying to tell himself all these years. Maybe coming face-to-face with hostility will force him to finally confront his actions without the benefit of rationalization and he’ll blow his brains out in a bus station bathroom. In retrospect I’ll probably always regret that I didn’t react more violently, but like I said, I was more concerned about Jenifer’s well being.
The show didn’t seem so bright to me after that. Instead of losing myself in the music and sunshine, my protective parental instinct kicked in. The way a parent loses the ability to be free when he or she has their first child. Gone was my piece of a piece of subconscious that naturally keeps a person from being in a situation that renders them unable to protect their loved one.
We made it through the rest of the show. The music was great. Jerry was really on today. I don’t know how to describe a Grateful Dead concert on paper. Unless someone’s experienced a show personally it’s really an indescribable experience, so I will have to hold these memories close to my heart. It’s too bad one asshole had to fuck some of it up.
Afterwards, I walked down Shakedown Street and just took in the sights, knowing most of these people would soon be moving with us south to California. I tried to find some opium but the one guy who said he was selling it didn’t look quite right, so I passed him by. I’m running low on money anyway, have enough to make it to San Fran but not much else. I’ve already bought a lot of souvenirs including a cool “Steal Your Face” patch for $1 and a tie-dyed tour shirt for $5.
Now to the good part. Right around sunset I was walking around the parking lot by myself just processing the days events, contemplating prematurely moving to the wonderful state of Oregon and maybe even feeling a little melancholy for no particular reason. Watching everyone pack up their wares in preparation for next week’s shows reminded me that we have to leave this place soon. I bought 10 sticks of incense for $1—there are some incredible vendors of handmade incense on tour. The guy who sold it to me was packing up his stuff and since I was his last sale of the day he gave me a rambling lecture, one for which I wasn’t really in the mood…about why his fresh incense is infinitely better than store bought incense…but I didn’t pay much attention. I walked back to the tent area in hopes of finding Jenifer, who I had tried to leave alone for a while so she could get her head together. I handed everybody a burning stick of incense, stuck several in the ground around us and sat down to watch the sunset with Jen. Both of us were feeling sad because we would be going in separate directions come tomorrow. I was sitting on the green moist grass, my legs forming a “V” in front of me, my arms around Jenifer who was sitting between my legs. We sat facing West and watched the most incredible sunset I’ve ever seen in my life.
I don’t know how to describe what happened then, but somehow with the sun melting into the horizon reflecting liquid gold off the high cumulous clouds in the sky, somehow with the first chill of the nighttime breeze nipping the air, the smell of various incense around us, somehow with my arms around her belly and my head on her shoulder, my lips breathing warm air on her neck and her hair tickling my nose, I pulled a piece of her soul into me and intertwined our lives forever. Oblivious to whichever people might have been around us at that time, during those moments it was just Sam and Jenifer and the bounty of the world smiling down on us with approval.