Rachael's Memorial (Part 3)

Both Comic Book Girl and I wanted to flee but we also had too many unanswered questions to skip the potluck at Mother’s house.* After some ranting and crying we drove back to downtown Graton. When we got there, I sought out Rachael’s Dad and told him that I didn’t know what to say when I first saw him, but that I had loved his daughter very much and that I was sorry. We hugged. He could barely talk, and I realized he hadn’t said a word during either ceremony. CBG said he was often like that.

Unfortunately Rachael’s co-workers didn’t come to the potluck. I’m mourning, otherwise I would never put words into the mouths of people of color, but I’m sure they said, "Let’s get away from these crazy white people."

I found Rachael’s last boyfriend who it turned out went to our high school also, class of 1986. I tried not to hate him for no reason. Unfortunately he wasn’t really deep or tactful, and I thought CBG was going to hit him when he said, "I was dealing in those days and it caused tension between us. But she didn’t complain when I brought home wads of cash." He didn’t seem to be someone to trust with the questions that could crush me if I heard a painful answer.

I found a stack of photos Rachael had shot in high school. Concerts I had attended with her: The Clash, Dead Kennedys, MDC, Dicks, Siouxsie, Gun Club, and that we reviewed for the school paper: The Police, Madness, Oingo Boingo, Elvis Costello. I thought back to seeing X with her at the Phoenix Theater in Petaluma in 1984. She couldn’t bring her camera so we hung out together for a change, standing dead center in front of an extremely drunk Exene and screaming all the lyrics as much bigger people bashed against us.

I wondered what happened to all the letters I had sent Rachael and whether they would surface. Would mom read them and what would they say about her? During the service Mom had said, "She loved you all. She saved everything. You all meant a lot to her even if she never told you." I decided to send her an e-mail and ask to get them if they turn up. But we’d had enough.

CBG and I turned and headed to the car. Back to the City. Time to get drunk.


*obliviot and psoup, her mom’s house is very close to, if not the place you lived in when you were in Graton.