Long Hair

BROWSER AIDES (Key quotes linked to their location in the text)

"Now she was a straight A student with a groupie lodged in her libido.

But I love you goddamnit, can’t you see that?!

“I was a patient at Langley porter, the mental hospital, up at UC."

It never entered his mind that she might actually be repulsed by him.

LINKS TO THE SUBSECTIONS
which must be read in-sequence.

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“Do you think you could love me again?” she asked.

He was numb with fatigue and his head ached from hunger. He just wanted to go home.

She now leaned against him and he understood it to be a signal that she wanted him to hug her, so he did. He didn’t want to deceive her, but even more, he didn’t want anymore crying.

He looked up and noticed there was only a hint of day left in the sky. Through the surrounding eucalyptus trees, he saw the Lincoln Avenue street lights come on. Earlier that afternoon, he and she had come here to Golden Gate Park for a promotional free rock concert. Common in 1968.

They left the concert in the middle, and when they reached her car, he said to her, while she rummaged in her purse for the keys, “I don’t love you anymore.”

She stared at him in disbelief. His casual indifference brought it home. When she didn’t speak, he felt compelled to.

“It happened back there,” he said, gesturing toward the distant, tinny guitar smudge on the wind.

He had expected when he told her that she would be sore and defensive. Perhaps for awhile she would even miss him, miss his companionship anyway, but certainly it wouldn’t be anymore difficult for her to forget him than vice versa.

Instead, she threw her fists at the sky and wailed: “Oh no, I did it again!”

Then tears started down her cheeks. Shit, he thought, where did this come from? Then she walked passed him and passed her car. He didn’t know where she was going and didn’t care, except that she was his ride home, so he followed her into the eucalyptus grove, where they waded through knee-high grass to a clearing.

“What did you expect?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” she blubbered.

“I didn’t know you felt like this,” he said.

“I didn’t either.”

They started walking along the perimeter of the clearing, around and around, trudging an oval rut in the grass. High overhead, the tips of the eucalyptus trees, glowing with late sunlight, were flung back and forth in the ocean wind.

“As usual, you’re right on time,” he said, referring to her insulting habit of being late for every meeting.

She smiled, almost laughed. The old, easy rapport resurfaced. Then was gone.

“You should’ve shown it earlier,” he said with glum resentment.

“I know. I couldn’t.” A streamer of mucous dangled from her nose.

“You said I was physically repulsive to you.”

“I know.”

“I’ve been miserable for weeks . . . ever since that day in the car... ”