Nobody Bats a Thousand (38 page)

“WHAT?” Chet picked up the remote and muted the TV. The
Stones
continued to play at high volume. “So the Young Republican wants to get high. What brought this on?”

“I don’t know. Troy and I were talking, and one thing led to another, and then I dunno, I thought about asking you.”

“Wow.
” Chet rubbed his beard. “Hey, I know you’re already eighteen, and I’m the last guy to tell an adult what to do or not to do, cause bottom line you can’t legislate morality, but hey, I’m not your fucking drug guru. And why come to me? I thought every kid above the age of six knew where to score some weed. Plus, if it ever got back to your step-mom she’d hang my ass. Isn’t she the head of some local anti-drug committee?”

“I think she has a meeting once a month. But that’s mostly why I came to you so nothing would get back to her. It’s a small school and Peter has a big mouth. Plus, at school everybody stays in their little groups. The Stoners party, and the Rah-
Rahs
campaign against it, and both groups act real superior and smug. Like they know something nobody else does.”

“It was basically the same when I went to high school thirty year
s ago. Kids never really change.
” Chet went to the refrigerator, topped off his jar with wine, and
sat back down. “And like I said if you got busted
I can see the headline now ‘Young Republican succumbs to

’”

“I wish you’d stop calling me that. You know I’m not political.”

“Come on kid.
” Chet sat forward and smiled. “You’re being programmed and groomed for it. I bet your parents have your choices of colleges down to three or four, and choices of fraternities down to one or two.”

Danny broke off eye contact and looked down at the floor. “It doesn’t matter. I’m not going to college, at least not right away. I’ve made up my mind to join either the Navy or Air Force after I graduate.”

“But you haven’t told anybody but me, right?” Chet did not wait for an answer.  “Hey, the service isn’t for everybody, neither is college, but at least in college you should have a little less of a chance of getting your balls shot off.”

“Did you do either one?”

“I lucked out in not having to go in during the end of Vietnam. My
draft lottery
number didn’t come up. So I stayed home in Utah and got whole hog into education. I was the Editor of the school paper for two years, campus President for three semesters, worked in the church,
you know the whole Mormon thing,
and I still had my Masters at twenty-two.”

This picture of Chet puzzled Danny. “What happened?”

Chet laughed
. “Hey, what happened to you?” H
e laughed again.  “I’ll tell you what happened, kid. I lucked into a good job in San Francisco, came to California, and in thre
e months I went from LDS to LSD.
” Chet took another drink. Moisture from the outside of the jar dripped onto his overalls. Several drops of wine escaped his mouth, rested a few seconds then slid down to hide under the first layer of his beard. “Hey, believe it or not I’ve got a good reputation and I’m good at what I do. It’s just that sometimes, well most of the time,
it takes a while to get it done,
which, by my weird way of associating, brings
me back to the subject of weed.
” Chet grunted and farted. “It’s being made into too big of a deal. I mean nobody has ever
OD’ed
from it, and it can’t turn you into an unfeeling, psychotic crazed maniac like crack or meth or alcohol can. It just relaxes most people and makes ‘em lazy, which explains why it’s been a thorn in the side of
every industrialized society since the British tried to colonize the Middle-East, and they had to keep chasing down all the day-laborers, who were hiding out somewhere smokin
g hash and staring at a pyramid.
” Chet leaned forward and began to talk quicker with more intent, barely drawing a breath. “Of course I know people who, when they get loaded, get jazzed up and energ
ized and work like albino mules.” H
e patted his knees with the palms of his hands. “Pot’s kind of a personal thing. I guess that’s why it can be sort of mystical
, but it’s not that big of deal. Sure
the shit’s bad for your lungs but so is living in Pittsburgh or LA. And it can scramble your IQ around and put your memory in a delay mode for a few hours, but it also breaks down categories in your brain, and lets different parts of your brain get acquainted, which can give you a fresh viewpoint on things.
Which isn’t bad for some people.
” H
e drank some more wine while he thought that over.

“I mean there’s a time and a place for everything, you dig? I mean you shouldn’t get high and try to fly the fucking Space Shuttle or drive a bulldozer or bolt together my new car on the assembly line, but to relax and watch a football game, nothing is be
tter than a marijuana cigarette.” H
e smiled. “And
sex is great when you’re stoned.” H
e stood. “
I don’t k
n
ow, I don’t know.” H
e
walk
ed to the refrigerator to top off
his jar with wine and ice.

Danny sat silently, partly watching Chet, partly watching the game. The
Stones
had quit, and a Hank Williams Jr. CD had started automatically. Danny was now very sorry he had started this controversy. He sat hoping he had heard Chet’s last bit of raving for the night, hoping the whole thing could now be constituted as a dead issue.

Chet plopped back down. “Shit.” H
e pounded the arms of his chair. “It
really shouldn’t be a big deal,
abuse,
abuse is the key word, that’s what they should be worried about. And abuse, harmful abuse can incur wit
h cocaine or cheesecake…or wine.” H
e took his quart jar from the table and sat back to drink heartily.

Danny now realized he had somehow struck a deep nerve. Many times he had sat and listened to Chet rant and rave about politics or sports
or bad service at the grocery
store,
but his discourses had never lasted long, and he had never seen Chet become so sullen and intense as quickly as he had on this night.

Long before
,
Danny had observed that Chet, like Troy’s granddad with his pompadour and shinny ’55 Chevy, was caught in a time warp. Chet was stuck in the 60’s, Troy’s granddad in the 50’s, both longed to preserve the past, and Danny thought that might be a key to Chet’s sudden change tonight.

Whatever the reason, as they both sat silently watching TV Danny now tried to plan a tactful way to dismiss himself.

Then Chet started again.

“Abuse is the key word, and everybody ha
s to deal with their
own demons.” H
e grinned and nodded his head. “Hey,” his voice grew louder like he couldn’t sense its volume. “I admit I’m getting a little messed up tonight, but I’m not out on the highways killing anyone. This is just a reward for staying sober the last few weeks while I was right in the middle of all kinds of depressive shit, and a half-gallon of wine and a couple of joints is no big deal. A good party night for me used to be a quart of Wild Turkey and an ounce of coke, but I’ve
straightened up. I’ve cut
down.” H
e paused for a few seconds. “O
f course I had to lose my family before I fin
ally woke up.
” Chet blankly stared at the TV as he slowly rubbed his hand up and down his stomach. He looked at Danny. “But you have people like Nancy Reagan and your step-mom who want to control everybody’s buzz. A cocktail or two at five o’clock is fine, that’s legal, or some schmuck with an advanced degree writes them a prescription for Prozac or Valium, that’s OK too, that’s modern medicine. But if some brick mason wants to relax and self-medicate himself by burning a joint after work, then he’s a crimi
nal and an accessory to murder.
” Chet stood, picked up his wine and began to pace the wide space of carpet in the middle of the room.

“Everybody wants to get a different slant on reality at least once in awhile. Every species on earth gets
high one way or another. That’s what a kid is doing the first time he hangs upside down on the jungle gym, it’s natural
.” H
e continued to pace.
“Catholics
drink altar wine to put them in a better frame of mind to talk to God. Now I’m sure there’s some good, straight-laced Protestants who would think the Catholics immoral for sipping wine in church, but why would that be any of their business. I mean the whole point is if someone wants to be Donna Reed or Pat Boone that’s great, but that doesn’t mean everybody has to be that way. Radical, intellectual, potent motherfuckers who were out there on the edge created this country, freedom and individuality and change were the big keys, not the status quo. Change, or the opportunity to change and grow, harnessed by the Constitution, that’s what it was all about. What enlightenment, what a document, what a huge step up for the human race. The Founding Fathers, those cats were something else, man. They stared down reality with a vengeance, and they
weren’t ready to be fucked with.” H
e stopped his pacing and stood in the middle of the room.
“They had questions, deep, deep questions, they wanted answers, and they weren’t abo
ut to be denied.
” Chet looked directly at
Danny. “Blind Faith don’t it get kid, never did, never will.”

Danny sat almost motionless. He had more or less followed Chet until just towards the last, but now his concern was turned to where the speech was headed and when it would end. He checked his watch.

“Nothing in life
is all black and white, nothing.
” Chet began to pace
again, now
bit faster
than before,
while his dog, lying prone, moved only his eyes to follow his owner back and forth across the ro
om. “I don’t know, I don’t know,
in this society if you’re a workaholic that’s acceptable, you’re probably considered a success, but if you’re another type of extremist, like say a junkie, then you’re a fucking loser, case closed, but they’re both addict
ions…I don’t know. I don’t know.
” Chet plopped back down into his chair. The tightness left his face, and he sat staring at the television, looking weary and defeated.

The CD ended and the music stopped,
with the TV still muted Chet and Danny sat in silence. A full, awkward, forty seconds of silence, during which Danny saw the chance to diplomatically break away. Again he checked his watch.

“Well, uh, I better get going. Troy
should be out there pretty soon.
” Danny stood.  The dog was quickly up and ready, following Danny to the front door.

“Wai
t.
” Chet came to his feet, caught up to Danny, and then stood near the door, facing h
im. “One time and one time only.” H
e pulled two hand-rolled cigarettes from the breast pocket of his overalls. “Here’s something you guys can handle. Just don’t get stoned and drive and don’t ever ask me to bu
y you any booze because I won’t.” H
e held the cigarettes out to Danny.

Danny stopped. He looked at the joints, then at Chet, then again at the joints, but he didn’t begin to reach for them. At that moment, standing in the foray, he saw Chet—eyes magnified and distorted, a tall meaty lump of faded denim—as both an innocuous and devilish friend, and Danny suddenly felt splashed with a loss of innocence which he felt no need to magnify or pursue.

“I hope you won’t be mad, but I’m
gonna
pass.”

“Mad? Heck, these will come
in handy during the second half.” H
e carefully tucked the joints back into his pocket.  He slapped Danny once on the back. “You made a decision and that’s great,” he said. “
You done
good kid.”

After quickly pounding the hard-muscled shoulder and scratching the head of Chet’s dog, Danny was out the door.

“Sneak over whenever you like. I’ll even give you a rain check on these two
doobies
.”

“Thanks.
” Danny buttoned his coat and turned to walk away. He was halfway across the field when Chet called out.

“Hey kid, don’t forget what I said about dreaming, okay?” Chet shut and locked his door.

Danny went back through the fence and began to walk down the long dirt driveway. He had a clear view
of any traffic coming down Grover for over a mile in either direction. Spotting no headlights, he felt unhurried and relaxed. The fall air tightened his body and stirred his blood. The darkness around him slightly lightened just above the horizon, and the sky, the world, widely opened above the orchards and vineyards all around him.

Once he reached Grover he crossed the street and stood waiting, warming his hands in his coat pockets and kicking a few small rocks into the street while he made plans for the following day. After several minutes he saw a pair of headlights, probably Troy’s, turning onto Grover about a half a mile away.