He came from Detroit; yep, same town moved from; came down with his mom, maybe to take care of his grandmother or something, while his dad stayed up there and worked, so mom thought he might need a friend so she sent me out to his house – yea, I know, what kind of mother does that? and, yes, wasn’t too keen on going and normally I was always in a hurry. In a rush, maybe because of mom’s nervous energy, really I think that’s why she sent me out there in the first place, because she needed me out of the way of hers. And dad was working during those hours. So, if I rushed around her, it just made her more nervous. So I was in a rush and ran upon a curve in that unfamiliar, but, dirt and gravel, road that, yes, I tried to straighten out and ran that car off the road into the grass, thankfully, only, and got stuck. But here comes somebody, no, not him, a girl, but a country girl, but at least one from the other end of the country from where I went to school, so not one I knew and one who was willing and able to help me get unstuck, which we did, who then wanted to know if I’d take her to DQ for doing so. Well, sure, let’s go get some ice cream, not dreaming, in my naivete, that that wasn’t what you went to DQ for – no, that’s where the guys were! No, that’s where he was. Slow as could be (physically moving wise that is) eating all that greasy DQ food – well, not all of it, but not somewhere we ever went to eat, actually not even their ice cream. An electrician’s helper.
We became inseparable. He was already out of school while I had my senior year to finish. Then after that next summer, after he came back, 4 mos. later we got married, with my dad’s reluctant blessing and rented a relatively small apartment (which, irony of ironies, was the very same one where I’d met my very first boyfriend years before, right across from a cool little art place there at the time but gone by then but that’s another story), again, staying in that town of my mom’s family, that quite likely, as small as my parents house was, could have fit in their living room but was perfect. He understood my need to get away from my hometown, maybe much as he did when he was young. It costs an arm and a leg because it was close to the college, where I was still in school and he was working, but it was handy to be able to live so close even though we eventually found another place on a corner lot where I could have my own flowers and was cheaper besides, though farther away, where I planted marigolds that I loved. My dad brought us a table he rescued that some artist students, no doubt, had thrown out at the college in the fine arts department where he worked, that had a nice mahogany veneer. We used it in our kitchen and later in our dining area after I worked the summer of 1978, when the topic of leaving there began to come up in regards to buying our first home, a mobile home, which we then set out to paint and make our own.
I painted that bathroom a bright sunshine yellow.