Friday/Saturday, Port Costa, CA: a wildly unsettling emotional roller coaster

This is probably the most difficult post I've ever made. Last week, the Light of My Life, someone I've known nearly 28 years, contacted me to do an annual calendar that she puts out (most) every year, consisting of her photographs of Port Costa, CA.

More pictures of Port Costa here

Her photographs have been published in a book on the history of Port Costa, a book which can be purchased in most large California bookstores, as well as on Amazon (boo!). She wanted to get it done before the holidays, so we arranged to meet up on Friday. I hadn't seen her for a long time, and I was really looking forward to seeing her again. …

Because I don't have a car, she aggreed to meet me at a coffee shop in Cotati. For some reason, our phone connection kept cutting out. She seemed rather annoyed, but we agreed on a rendezvous time. I got a text message later, reporting heavy traffic, and that she was running late.

I spent the morning experimenting with InDesign, a desktop layout program, as I waited. I've only used this program once or twice since it first came out in 1999 (I was working at Adobe Headquarters in San Jose at the time, and received a copy of the first iteration of the program). When she arrived, she had a couple of online service providers lined up, who provided templates (in .pdf, which don't convert so readily into InDesign), printing and shipping for a set price. I had never seen, much less used, these providers, and tried experimenting (unsuccessfully) with some of their templates. She didn't have any of her photographs with her, so I used some of mine as sample files. But she became visibly frustrated with the whole process, so I shut my computer down, and we decided to go out to Port Costa to snap pictures while there was still available light.

I took some pictures on the trip over (we took the scenic route). Things seemed to be OK. We had to stop at her bank in Crockett on the way, and by the time we got to Port Costa, it was getting late. We walked around the town snapping pictures. I took a bit more time than her at each stop; she seemed eager to move on, and did so, and I had to move to keep up.

When we got to the downtown, it seemed she knew everyone we passed. The owners of the two tavern/restaurants in town, The Warehouse and Bull Valley Inn (which my friend used to manage) informed her that they had live music that night at The Warehouse, a band from Ireland with two songs in the Top25 on the UK
charts, but whose name they couldn't seem to recall (the band in question is called Seneca, and will be the subject of the next post). While we were downtown, she introduced me as "the guy who's helping with the calendar."

We took more pictures, and then went back to her house, where she looked for some photo files she could use. Apparently, she had contacted me a couple of months ago when I was unavailable, and the computer with most of her files had crashed in the interim (she was now using a slightly used computer an old high school teacher had given to her son), and she became very agitated that she couldn't find any usable pictures for her calendar.

We sat for a while at her dining room table, not speaking much, as the daylight faded away outside. I noticed a list of people to contact on her desk. I was listed merely as "rf tech support"; it kind of hurt that she hadn't even bothered to write out my name. We discussed what to do next; I suggested getting something to eat. She asked where I wanted to go; what I wanted to do. She wasn't sure whether to drive me back that night, as she was beginning to feel tired, or have me stay over on the couch. I asked if she wanted to eat in town, as it had been decades since I had been in Port Costa.

We decided to eat at the Bull Valley Inn, the placed she had managed a couple of years before. She was seeming really distant at that point, more interested in talking to her friends there, and I actually had more conversation with a guy I had never met before, who was sitting a couple of seats down at the bar.

When we were finished, we decided to head across the street to check out the Irish band playing at The Warehouse. We got there a little before 9:30, and the band hadn't started yet. But from our very arrival at the bar, she seemed to be avoiding me as much as possible, and this continued for the entiretl of the night. I spoke a bit with the only people I knew, her sister and brother-in-law (whose wedding I had attended), and a friend of her's from high school– all of these people were people I hadn't seen in nearly a quarter of a century. At one point she had an argument with her high school friend, involving a comment my friend didn't appreciate, and some (not so very) recent history. A couple of times, my friend just disappered for fairly long intervals without even telling me she was going (one time to do some work across the street at the Hotel). I found myself trying to figure out if I had offended her in some way. When I asked how she was doing, she seemed very annoyed, but replied, "fine." Some fire trucks pulled up down the block, and she went to investigate. I started along with her, but about halfway there, she told me to go back to the club. Apparently her husband (whom she referred to as "her husband" even though they hadn't lived together in years, and were barely on speaking terms for much of that time) and her sister were on the volunteer fire departments from Port Costa and neighboring Crockett. I understood the awkwardness of the situation, so I had no problem with that.

The original plan was to drop in for some music and leave early, but we stayed long after the band was breaking down equipment, and actually left after they were shutting down the bar. We went back to her house in silence. I finally asked her if she was uncomfortable that I was there. She proceeded to blast away at me, as if I was responsible for her old computer dying and losing files because I didn't get back to her soon enough. But most of the frustration involved things that had nothing to do with me. Her Mother is on her last legs, and seems to be suffering from dementia, her sister who doesn't help with her Mother, but criticizes her every move; her friend, who only seems to want to see her so they can carouse the downtown bars hitting on her (my friend's) male friends.

She was avoiding me, because she didn't want anyone confusing me with being her "boyfriend" (and the way that gossip flies around that town, I don't really blame her for that– I heard more than I cared to just in the short time I was there). She didn't want me to be around her while she was downtown– even though I made it clear that I was on her time, and I was OK with anything she wanted to do. And to top it off– I know she's very busy, but she blamed me for throwing off her schedule for the entire weekend! I wasn't the one who called up and asked to work on this calendar project!

I slept (or tried to) on the couch, and later she drove me home in virtual total silence.

I love her more than I care to tell. I've been completely shattered since this weekend.

Playing Fair
Seneca