Santa Cruz.
I get off work and head down the alley to my home, where I don’t wait long for Jenny to show up and holler up at me from the street below. I hurry down to let her inside and we stall for a moment in my room before I ask her if she’s ready to go and the answer is yes. So next thing we’re in her little car and heading down L Street toward the freeway. We get pretty far along before the rain starts.
We stop in Benicia to put air in Jenny's tires, fill the gas tank and grab two hot chocolates from the push-button machine. It's raining, lightly, and in the distance you can see the flaming tower of an oil refinery across the freeway. Seagulls fly in circles looking for scraps. It's about 3:00 in the afternoon, Saturday, as we pose for photographs in front of the No Trespassing sign keeping interlopers off the vibrant green hilltops. When we leave, we turn the iPod to classical music and head back to the interstate.
It snows on the summit while Jenny handles 17 like a pro.
Then we’re in Santa Cruz, checking into the Paradise Inn a few blocks from the beach, down the street from The Boardwalk. Our middle-eastern host fumbles with the check-in and it takes a good half hour for Jenny to successfully give the guy her information, due to a nearly impossible language barrier and Paco’s deficient computer skills. No bother. I try to keep from laughing out loud and read a pamphlet about The Mystery Spot.
The manager’s name wasn’t really Paco, but the nickname stuck.
The hotel room is tiny and uncomfortable, as expected. Jenny’s intention had been to stay at her friend Inga’s parent’s house, but they were in town. Then the hostel was fully booked. So here we are at some cheap motel, but it’s perfectly cheesy and I love it immediately. Jenny’s worried about bed bugs. We put our stuff down and feel out the room and then head out to search for food.
The sun sets while we share a pizza and two pints of beer. I’d forgotten my paper ID and my expired license was a concern, but this bartender didn’t seem to mind. We leave just as the place gets crowded with off-season locals.
We meet Inga at the bowling alley bar around the corner. Newly 21, the girl looks like she’s 25, and the way she wants to leave immediately makes me think that she’s just spent a half hour being hit on by sleazy forty-year-old men. Inga and Jenny met at UC Davis before Inga left to return to the coast. Her boyfriend is out of town. She takes us on a little tour of downtown Santa Cruz.
Coming from the perspective of an adult, I never realized how neat this city really is. As a kid on forced family outings, the vibe was much different. I liked being able to appreciate the city with a new point of view. I could see myself living here.
We went to a handful of bars. I got pretty drunk off a mix of beer, red wine and screwdrivers. We smoked American Spirits and I spent too much money and pissed in public. We played pool at some point and also happened upon a balcony with a fire pit, where we stood and talked in the late-night drizzle about sex, relationships and life after college. Inga wanted to drive home but we convinced her to stay at her friend’s house and Jenny and I went back to the motel.
In the morning our neighbors decided to watch television at full volume. Jenny and I tried to ignore it as best we could, but couldn’t. At least there weren’t any bed bugs. At last the noise pollution and sunlight pouring in through the window forced us into consciousness.
I happened to find a Frisbee in the alleyway behind the motel and had to hop out the window to get it. We first tried the café next door to Paradise Inn, but it was closed, and we spent a while admiring a parrot chilling in the branches of the tree in front of the seemingly-vacant shop.
Then we made it to the beach. Sand. Ocean. The pier. The Boardwalk. Waves. Seagulls. Off-season crowds. Kids in the water. People running. Shells. Algae. Sand castles. Cartwheels. Sailboats. Sunshine. Sand dollars. Distant clouds, gray and gloomy, slowly approaching. We walked along the length of The Boardwalk, soaking in the scenery as much as we could, realizing how much we missed the ocean and the beach, and when it came time to head back and meet Inga for lunch, we took the route through the near-desolate Boardwalk to admire the crumbly old rides.
Paco was at the motel, and how conveniently because Jenny’s card-key was rendered useless by sharing a pocket with her cellphone. Paco repaired the card and gave us suggestions for photographs and excitedly wished us a good day.
We left the motel by car to meet Inga at a coffee-shop a few minutes away from the shore. There was a line. Inga couldn’t stay long. We said our hello’s and goodbye’s on the coffee-shop porch and hugged and went our separate ways.
Jenny wanted to take me to Café Brazil but it was too crowded. After checking out of Paradise Inn, we went to the Bagelry instead. Jenny found my keys in her red coat pocket and neither of us had any idea how my keys got there.
Next we went back to the beach, found parking, and smoked pot in the field across from the cliff edges and talked about threesomes. We watched the surfers ride waves back to shore and then found our way down to the water, where we laid for a while on the beach in the sunlight with our eyes closed and ears tuned to the comforting soundtrack of a Santa Cruz afternoon. Next we strolled the length of the Pier to look at sleeping sea lions and souvenir shops, and when we made it to the end we realized that it was time to go.
After a brief stop at Emily’s Bakery for lunch, we made our way back to the freeway and left Santa Cruz around 4:30. Maybe a half hour later, we switched spots and I drove the rest of the way to Sacramento. Sacramento was a little depressing after spending most of the day on the beach.
I went over to Jenny’s apartment and stayed the night and left early in the morning for work at Old Soul the next day. After work I went to yoga with Jenny around 4:30 and sweated like I’ve never sweated before. We had Chinese food for dinner, watched The Royal Tenenbaums, read some poetry, and then fell asleep late in the night.
I’m more or less convinced that I’m in love with Jenny.
I told this to Kirsten, who has a date in San Francisco on Wednesday.
From Kirsten @ 11:07 AM
What does your gut say? Don’t be wary. If you bet small, you lose big when you win.
To Kirsten @ 11:08 AM
My heart says being in love will be just as good for me as getting my heart broken, so I can’t really lose.
From Kirsten @ 11:09 AM
Exactly.
I’m heading out to see Bryce on Wednesday night after work, then I’ll swing over to Redwood City to visit with my Dad and the Fryer side of the family. I have to leave on Friday before 3:00 so I can make it home in time to go to Jenny’s birthday party.
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