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| Max arrived in February of 1971 two years after the Valentines Day Oil Spill of 1969 |
A couple of hours later I was down at
the harbor watching the masts of the boats gently waving to the movement of the
waters. A petite woman with short-cropped dark hair caught my eye as she approached. A sea bag, packed full slung
over her slight shoulder, made her look exceptionally cute. She greeted me with
a cheerful smile, “Hey, can you help me with this bag?”
“Can I help you? Sure, sure I can!” I
was so eager the bag felt like it weighed no more than two ounces as she led me
down to her boat, The Sea Breeze.
“I’m Serena… what do you call
yourself.”
I stuttered, “M-Max…”
“Is that Max with two M’s?”
I laughed, “Naw, just one. I get
nervous when a pretty girl…”
Serena grinned a welcome grin, “Yeh, I can tell,” and, when I passed the bag over to her from the dock, she offered, “Come on aboard and
I’ll make you a sandwich… I’ve got cheese and baloney. That is… if you aren’t a
vegetarian.”
“Hey, I’d eat a mud pie if you’re the
one making it.”
So, it went like that. Serena was
renting the boat with a friend, Becky, who was hardly ever around. Becky had a
boyfriend in town and only used the boat to stash her stuff, so Serena had the
place to herself.
“You new around here, Max?”
“Yeh, I stayed at the Rescue Mission
last night. It was alright, but it won’t do for long.” I was at home with this
strange girl and fascinated by her exotic good looks. I just wanted to be near
her and it really didn’t matter why or for what reason.
“I’ve sung for supper there a few
times. The Bible thumping gets tedious, eh?” She busied herself with putting
together a couple of plates for the sandwiches.
“Yeh, but I like some of it.” I
looked around the boat. It was well kept and tidy. The galley was spotless, and
I noticed that Serena cleaned up everything as she went. Not a crumb was left
on the counter or cutting board. “Can I use the head?”
“If you have to go you will need to
use the can up topside.”
“Topside?”
“Yeh, the one on-board works but
we’re not supposed to use it in the harbor. It has a tank, but we save that for
night time. Go up the ramp and out the gate to the left, here’s a key… There is
a shower there too if you ever need to use it.”
On the way back down, I reveled in my
luck. The sun was out. The warmth of it had me enthralled enough but then I saw
Serena laying out on the deck over the cabin… in a very small bikini bra (tiny
triangles on a string) and gym shorts… my ecstasy was barely contained. We
chatted each other up and I enjoyed the easy laughter as we probed each other’s
opinions and attitudes.
“So, what do you think of the Jesus
freaks at the mission?” She asked.
I was sitting on the bow looking up
to her… my attention captured by a corner of her bikini bra that let peak the
underside of her small but well-rounded breast when she lifted her head to
speak, “I’ve been reading the Bible lately. I don’t know. The parts where Jesus
speaks in the gospels sound good… feels right, you know?”
She propped herself up on her elbows,
“Yes, I know what you mean. It seems a lot of hocus-pocus until you get it
straight. I have epilepsy and need to take meds for it. A guy at this church in
town claims Jesus can heal me if I throw away my meds.”
“You’ve got to be kidding? Eh?” I was
sure she wasn’t dumb. She certainly seemed smart enough.
“Well, he wasn’t kidding. I’m not
sure. He said that throwing the meds away is an act of faith.” She put a terry
cloth thing on over her beautiful bare chest and got up, “C’mon, let’s go for a
walk on the beach.”
As we were walking towards the cliffs
of Shoreline Park I related what happened to me in Berkeley and what Bob-O did
at the altar-call; how some of it seemed absurd while other things made perfect
sense.
“I’m Italian Catholic,” she smiled
showing a perfect row of white ivory, “we’re used to religion being absurd but
we aren’t into this snake-handling, holey-rollin’, faith-healin’ business.”
“Okay, I’m with you on that. I grew
up part Catholic too.”
“Part Catholic, how do you manage to
do that?”
“I didn’t manage it at all. I was
born with it. My dad is proud to be a Nothin’ and my mom is Irish Catholic.
They got married in the church but Dad had to promise to let Mom raise the kids
Catholic. She did and he let her... so, I’m part Catholic and the ‘Part’ part
of it wins except for the Big Questions.”
I had to believe I had struck gold.
Sex, romance, and religion! What could be better? The miraculous manner in
which it all folded together was a convincing argument for something happening.
I was as hopeful at last as I had been when I sat on that bus from Treasure
Island. I felt young again. At twenty-four years I had been feeling quite old
the past year: especially in Berkeley where it had drizzled nonstop for the
whole time I had been there. It was as though I had stepped out of darkness and
into the light as soon as I left the Rescue Mission that morning. Here I was,
walking on the beach, in the warmth of the sun with a beautiful woman… What
else is there here in this town that GAWD has in store for me!
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