Debbie introduced us after Art class, during the morning break. We were on our way to Sambo's for coffee.
I remember the two little old women sitting in their car at the stop sign, staring at these three delinquent teenage girls dressed in ragged blue jeans and tank tops, long straight hair and bare feet.
You looked at me. I looked at you. Our thoughts merged. We hugged, grabbed each others hand and skipped across the road in front of them. They just stared, their mouths dropping open at such blatant behavior. We smiled and blew them kisses.
I remember talking for hours. Sitting in Sambo's day in and day out, during every break and lunch hour. Just drinking coffee and talking.
I remember the night I met you and Allan under the bridge and you took me home with you. You took me into the house, sat me down in front of Natalie and said "Can we keep her?"
She said yes.
I remember the weekend we spent laying on our stomachs on a raft in the middle of a lake in a place called Sweetsmill.
It was a nude weekend, with people of all ages. We were young and embarrassed and afraid to roll over. We sunburned our butts and the ride home was extremely uncomfortable.
I remember the nights spent sitting outside the club, leaning against the wall and listening to the band inside. Our guys were playing. Kirk and Leland and Donny.
We were so young. So much in love. Me with Kirk. You with Leland.
I remember the night we got busted. I had that tiny apartment and when the door came down, it almost hit the opposite wall.
You were still a minor and Natalie took you home. You all went camping the next day, fully expecting me to be released. But I was considered an adult and it was my apartment, even if it wasn't my dope.
I remember how bad you felt when you found out I had spent the week in jail.
I remember you cried when I moved to Texas and got married.
I remember you cried when I got a divorce and moved back.
I remember the night we dressed to the nines and went out to see our new guys playing in the band. It was right before you left for Alaska.
I remember when you left. You and Ron, so brave and daring, driving that little VW bug all the way from California to Anchorage.
I remember when you married Bobby and Natalie and I flew to Anchorage. You were such a beautiful bride. You were so happy.
I remember the phone calls when you and Bobby started having problems. You went through rehab and cleaned up but the marriage was over.
We both cried.
I remember when you met Tom and moved to the Island, starting over with your own business.
I remember the first time I saw the Saturn commercial on TV and realized it was you, looking into the camera from that little island in Alaska.
I remember when you and Tom came to California and we all met in Carmel for Thanksgiving. You seemed happy but you were also so very troubled.
You were on a slow, downward spiral and you didn't know it. None of us did.
I remember the breakup with Tom and the union with Robin. You seemed happier but the spiral continued.
I remember when you decided to go back to school. I surprised you by showing up at your graduation and it was the beginning of my renewed relationship with Natalie. I had quit drinking. You hadn't.
I remember more phone calls when you were drinking and all you wanted to do was re-live the past. All I wanted to do was let it go.
I remember the last time I saw you, as you were leaving for the airport the day after Natalie's memorial service. I wish I had said more then. I wish I had told you that the person I held hands with thirty some years ago was still in there somewhere.
I wish I could save you. I can't. I can't even recognize the person you are now. I wish I could find the person you used to be.
And it breaks my heart. Because I miss her.
