Spirit of the Seventies.

I can't remember where, when, how or even why I met Petro. It was the late seventies and I was stoned most weekends from Friday night to Sunday night. I guess that answers the why part at least.

I was eighteen and the sound of the school bell had not yet become a distant echo. I had a job and had left home to live in a downtown rented room in a private hotel. It cost a third of my wages but at least three meals and laundry was included.

My best mate Lenny shared a place with his older brother Cecil and every Friday night after work I'd buy a bottle of vodka and catch a number seven bus to his place. There I stayed until Sunday night. It was so cool.

Cecil worked as a rep for a large food-canning factory so there was always enough food in the kitchen cupboards for us to eat. One of the crazy things we used to do when we were stoned was to take the labels off all the cans in the cupboard so that we never knew if we were going to have baked beans or spaghetti for breakfast. This was always very funny when we were pissed but having to eat a tin of peaches when you are hung over wasn't always fun.
Lenny always had his own bottle of vodka plus a handful of joints so the first thing we did was get drunk/stoned. About eight o'clock we went dancing, only then we called it "going to a session."

First it was Club Ten, which was in a hall in the agricultural showground. Here the Saints were the resident band. Four white guys and a Chinese singer. Club Ten was in a middleclass suburb but even so you had to know which chicks you could ask to dance and which you couldn't, unless you wanted to leave some of your teeth behind when you went home.

Next in line was the Crispin Hall. Same thing only the band there was the Cavaliers and they were all friends of mine. In those days if you were mates with the band then you seldom got the sh-t kicked out of you, at least not until after the session when the band had packed up and left.

If by this time we were still standing and drunk enough we went on to the Big Beat. This was in a really seedy part of town near the harbour. On Saturday nights it was packed with sailors from the two Union Castle mail ships that were in port. We called them”limeys” and the chicks liked them because they always had a lot of money. This was enough to make us pick a fight with them but there were always a gazillion of them so usually we got our a-ses kicked big time.

Petro was eighteen, at least that’s what she said. She had very short flaxen hair cut close against her head in a sort of Mia Farrow style and she had large blue eyes, I think. Petro was small, elfin like, a waif. Like she looked about thirteen and she said she was a student nurse.

Anyway on Friday nights Lenny and I usually got to Club Ten about half past seven and every Friday night without fail, fifteen minutes later Petro and I were on the dance floor or outside in the darkness sharing a joint. Where she suddenly came from I still haven't figured out until this day. Every time I was there Petro was there.

So that’s all I knew about her. She lived in a small town, which was about twenty miles away from my hometown and it was that small and that close that it was almost a suburb.

Every Friday Petro and her best friend Marlene took the train from their little village to our big city. Marlene was tall and wore the shortest minis I'd ever seen on a girl. She also had the greatest legs I'd ever seen on any girl. Also she was quite a bit older than Petro.

Marlene and I were also good friends and she always carried this very big handbag with her at all times. A bottle of vodka easily fitted into it and the bouncers never ever asked to look in it. I guess it might have been because she also carried a knife in it. Marlene had contacts and we never ever went to the Big Beat unless she was with us. She sort of looked after Petro until I took over.

Saturday night would be the exact same procedure. Stoned, session, Petro, stoned, sex. Sunday morning at the station again and she would cling to me like she would never ever let go. Like she was so afraid but of what I've no idea.
We sat side by side on one of those hard wooden benches and she'd keep kissing me and wanting me to kiss her like it was going to be the last time we'd ever be together. Only when her train pulled in would she let me go and then Marlene had to almost drag her away.

Sometimes, usually at the Crispin Hall, I'd have too much to drink and smoke too many joints and I'd pass out. At these times Lenny told me Petro wouldn't leave my side and cradled my head in her skinny lap, brushing my hair out my eyes and kissing my feverish lips. At these times, he also told me, many random studs tried to get off with her but never once he said did she show the slightest interest in them.

This went on for about three months. Then this one Friday night Lenny and Cecil had to go out of town for the weekend for a wedding. I always had my own key to their place so that was no problem.

Petro arrived at Club Ten alone. No Marlene and when I asked her about it she sort of changed the subject. I assumed that she and Marlene had had a fight or something and that was that. One thing though she cried a lot that night. I don't mean like howling bawling and squealing type crying. She just had tears in her eyes all the time. Mostly that night she was seriously stoned so I figured that was the reason. Some chicks I'd known cried a lot when they were drunk. I dunno why.

She cried while we were dancing, cried while we shared a joint and cried while we were kissing. When I took her to Lenny’s place, she cried while we were making love and I couldn't understand it. Maybe she had an allergy because I swear it wasn't me who made her cry. Back then I was a really good-looking dude.

Sunday when I took her to the railway station, man that was something else again. The tears just rolled down her pale cheeks and she was kissing me something fierce. When her train came in she begged me to go with her but I couldn't. I had to work the next day. I couldn't understand why she was behaving this way. Eventually just as the train was pulling away I managed to get into the coach.

Usually as the train pulled out of the station, Petro would lean out the window waving and blowing me kisses. This time, though I watched until the train was out of sight, she didn't wave and didn't blow me a single kiss. Bummer.

Monday night after work I'd just got out of the shower when Lenny and Cecil arrived and I could see by the look on their faces that some big sh-t had happened.

Lenny was carrying the evening newspaper and he spread it out on my bed and opened it to page two. His index finger tapped a photograph of Marlene and Petro. The headline under their photo read: "Mother and Daughter Die Under Train."

I looked at Lenny and Cecil then read the report. Apparently Marlene and Petro had been crossing a railway line when an express train hit them. They must have been killed instantly. What I couldn't understand was how come Marlene was with Petro. Oh and also the fact that they were mother and daughter.

"Check out when this happened man." Lenny said.
"Yesterday." I answered. "Says so here. Why?"

"Look at the top of the page at the date." Cecil said.

Both of them had this kind of weird look on their faces and I couldn't figure out why.

That is until I looked at the date. It was the Monday evening paper all right, only it was dated one week ago.

Nice twist. I got sidetracked at the beginning when you introduce Petro and then go into a whole back history about you, Lenny and Cecil. Perhaps edit it and this story has the potential for more dialogue. I really can imagine the story being strengthened when it's time to slip out the back for a joint, the expletives when a tin of peaches is opened, Marlene's verbal assurances about the power of her handbag. Especially the last evening you and Petro spend together!

Am I missing something? How did Petro die on the railway line a week ago if she was there the night before? I'm confused :(

Check the title Volya.

Ever hear of ghosts, Volya??

This is up to your usual standards as far as the quality of writing is concerned - but the plot reads like autobiography so wasn't especially interesting despite the fine detail of the era. And unfortunately the twist is rather lame - it's been done one variation or another a million times before.

H

I enjoyed this story and liked the twist at the end! That would be eerie if it really happened!

kittypaws

Thanks for reading and the constructive crits guys.