A Pretty Intelligent Girl

On the other hand, she disliked personal discussions, which always led to snooping around in areas she considered private.
-Stieg Larsson
"The Girl Who Played With Fire"

Twenty-five years ago today:

June 8, 1985
Saturday

I went to bed at 2:30AM or so last night—thanks to Rachelle. At lease she drives my car to her house and then I only have to drive one-way back to my house. I still feel sleepy when I have to drive home at that hour. I almost hit a curb last night from being half-asleep while driving.

I rode my bike to mom’s house at about 11AM. Ma and Pa were getting ready for my cousin, Rebecca Ortega’s wedding. I wasn’t invited. I had a small glass of juice and then, at noon, I rode my bike all the way to Castro Valley. I stopped at Rachelle’s house, arriving a little before 1:30PM. We shared a Diet-7-UP. I was so thirsty. We went in her backyard and did a little mountaineering by hiking beyond her backyard. There were tons of weeds and I was having nightmares over the potential of getting poison oak.
“I’ll be able to use it as an honest and true excuse from work if I do get poison oak,” I said to Rachelle.
She laughed.
Rachelle knew of a little clubhouse during the hike. So we went inside and it was a good place for ‘a little quickie’—but we didn’t do anything. We went back to her backyard and felt all queasy and itchy. It was like having a hay fever attack. I didn’t like that itchy feeling at all.

I left Rachelle’s by 3PM and went zooming along on my bike down Greenridge Drive. It was killer scary for a second or two around that one curve.

I stopped at a 7-11 Convenient Store across the street from Humana Hospital for an apple juice and a Hawaiian punch. I needed the liquids. I arrived home around 4:30PM. Rachelle called me to verify that I be there at 8:45PM for our planned dinner outing to Bobby McGee’s in San Ramon.

I slept until 6:15PM, dressed and showered. I stopped by mom’s house and she gave me the family scoop and gossip at Becky’s wedding. There was a funny coincidence, too. I told Rachelle about my cousin, Becky, and it turns out that Becky has cut Rachelle’s hair. Rachelle goes to ‘The Main Attraction’ often. It’s the hair salon where Becky works. The wedding was “pudgy” so-to-speak with only Champagne and Hors d’oeuvres.
Mom said, “There was no big meal or anything.”
“That’s disappointing.”
“So what else?”
“Well, Judy Garcia, got a divorce. Her husband was fooling around with another woman in their own house while Judy was asleep. And then he threw her out, the police came and everything.”
What a nightmare. Judy is my cousin, too.

I told Rachelle the Judy story over dinner.
“I wonder if her husband’s name is Joe Smith,” Rachelle said, referring to her ex-boyfriend.
I laughed aloud, “Why would you say that?”
“Oh, because I gave him my house key and he screwed some freshman girl named Tina in my own bedroom. I even have proof of the fact!”
“You’re kidding me! What a creep is all I have to say.”

I was just happy that Rachelle and I had each other now. The waitress that served us at Bobby McGee’s was named “Flo”. She was funny and the meal was good despite having to look at Rachelle’s very rare prime rib.

Before we went into the restaurant I wrote a bit in my journal. Rachelle did the same with the new journal I gifted her. She got all pissed-off when I turned off the car light. What a baby! She nags at me sometimes like I’m her mother or father. I’m only trying to help and she thinks I think she’s stupid. I think she’s a PIG (a Pretty Intelligent Girl).

After our nice dinner we went to my house. I’d already had a melon midori margarita. We ended up making margaritas at my house. We lounged around in the living room. She let me browse through her red journal book. We were buzzed and she began to make a few statements regarding my sexuality.
“What would you do at this point?”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“What wouldn’t you do?”
“You’re talking in riddles.”
“I feel unsure about where you and I are concerned,” Rachelle said.
“You know I love you.”
“I know.”
“And you know you’re the only one that I want, right?”
“Yes.”
“You know—you amazed me the other day when you said you wouldn’t care if Bob Maloney and I did something together. Why did you say that?”
“I don’t know.”
“And I know you were ‘head over heels’ over him at the gym for a while.”
We laughed.

Rodney was ‘out of it’. Michael was tired as well, considering they’d both been going to bet at 3AM the last few days—be it over the telephone or whatever. So, Rodney and Candy (that’s what I named Rachelle’s you-know-what) had a brief fooling around session…but nothing climactic.

Rachelle got on Michael’s case about not paying enough attention or not making the first move, making her feeling unwanted. I changed those vibes by the end of the night.

His humility, his submissiveness, touched her, and when he finally took her in his arms, she did not resist.
-Stefan Zweig
"The Post-Office Girl"