Black Suede Jacket

This short story is based on temporarily losing something that to be valuable. IT WAS!

Sunday night. It’s past 9 and I’m on the phone with Peggy. We are going out tonight to celebrate her 23^rd birthday. We won’t be doing anything big. Just go to a restaurant have drinks, and then we’ll see what happens.

“Let’s go to North Beach and I’ll buy you a glass of water,” Peggy tells me over the phone.

“All right,” I say.

Why would anyone drink a glass of water when celebrating a friend’s birthday?

Peggy told me that her friend was coming with us.

”Cool.”

I hang up my cell phone and put it on my dresser. Time to get ready.

I put on my green Tommy Hilfiger dress shirt I was given in 2001 as a graduation present. That shirt really brings out my eyes. I also put on black dress pants that match my shoes and hair. The last thing I get is my favorite jacket: A black suede dress jacket that I am putting on for the first time. I am now ready to party the night away.

The black suede jacket was a gift to me that had been given to my mom from her manager, Ms. Richardson, whose uncle did not need the jacket.

“The jacket will bring you luck,” my mother once told me.

I didn’t think about luck when she first told me that. All that mattered was that now I have something good to wear when it came to clubbing.

With that I walk out of my bedroom, turn off the light, and tell my parents that I will be back later. I proceed down the stairs and out the door.

Outside I get into my 1999 Toyota Corolla. It’s black.

This car used to belong to my mother, until a year ago when she purchased another car. Same make. Same model. New Year. She thought she needed to get another car to be hip. That’s when she let me have this car.

Who cares if it’s from years ago? All that matters to me is that it runs. I’ll take care of the rest- washing it once in a while, and buy a new car stereo so I can hear music.

If this were a school night I would already be in bed and wake up early the next morning.

I met Peggy through another friend who I met at SF State, Carla. Throughout the years Margaret Roberts/ Peggy and I have hung out from time to time for 2 years. Although we were good friends, for some reason I liked her more than a friend. But I’d never tell her that.

I park my car on 34^th Ave, smack in the middle of Lawton and Kirhham Streets where Peggy’s grandmother lives. She told me she and her friend were getting ready.

I turn off the car and call her cell phone to tell her I’m outside.

“We’ll be out there soon,” she says.

I sat there in the dead silence of the night, waiting for her and her friend to come. It’s peaceful to listen to the night. Don’t move. Just listen. What do you hear?

The next thing I know I see two women on my rear view mirror approaching my car. They get it. Peggy opens the front passenger door and her friend sits behind her.

“This is Mikayla,” Peggy tells me as she motions to her friend.

We shake hands.

“Hey, I’m Francisco.”

“Mikayla.”

We talk about where to go.

“We didn’t get all dressed up for nothing,” Mikayla says

“Let’s go to the Karaoke bar on Lombard,” I say.

The two ladies agree with me.

I start the engine and head north to the Marina district.

Peggy notices my serious expression as I’m exiting the freeway in the Marina.

“What’s wrong, Francisco?” she asks me.

“Nothing,” I tell her as I keep focusing on the road.

Keep your eyes on the road and your hands on the wheel.

“Oh, you just need a kiss,” she says as she kisses me on my cheek.

Suddenly a smile appeared on my face. A kiss from her was all it took to take my seriousness away. Now the question was, how long would it stay there?

“I saw that smile,” Peggy says happily.

I parked the car on Greenwich Street. We all got out of the car and headed to the Silver Cloud Restaurant on Lombard Street.

The street was quieter than a funeral. Everyone is asleep tonight in the Marina, except for the three of us.

We noticed it was closed when we saw the restaurant a block away.

Oh, no.

We walked back to my Toyota Corolla.

“It must be closed on Sundays,” Mikayla said.

“Let’s go to North Beach,’ Mikayla blurted in the car.

“Yeah, Francisco,” Peggy agreed. “Let’s go to the Steps of Rome.”

With that we all put on our seat belts and I turned on the engine. In the next second, I had reversed out of there and driven into Lombard Street.

There’s a first time for everything. And tonight was my first time going to North Beach via the Broadway Tunnel. I felt free going through that tunnel since this way to North Beach was a straight line.

The first/last time I had been to North Beach was one my 18^th birthday where friends had taken me to a bar where people over 18 were allowed.

I wish I had known the moment I parked the car that I this was going to be a long night. It was already a long night and the partying hadn’t started yet.

Mikayla was the last person to get out of the car, making sure that all the doors were locked.

We entered an Italian Restaurant called The Steps of Rome. We were the only customers there at this hour of night. What a great place to socialize!

The waiter came to our table.

“Just bring us all waters,” Peggy told the waiter.

The next few minutes felt like an eternity where we forgot our troubles, had A-B and ABC conversations, drank and ate appetizers.

At one point I held up my right arm and cracked my fingers. I have been double-jointed since I was 6 when I was seeing the doctor repeatedly and recovering from a car accident I suffered in Peru at the age of 4.

Peggy turned to look at me, wondering what I was doing with my fingers.

“Are you okay, Francisco?” she asked.

“Yeah,” I said. “It’s normal.”

“It’s normal?”

We stared into each others eyes for 30 seconds. I see a hair growing from the bottom of her left cheek.

I return my attention to my place.

Peggy pulls out a cigarette, puts it in between her lips, and takes out her lighter.

“I dare you to smoke that whole pack,” I tell her.

“Oh, no. That would be bad.”

“But it’s your birthday.”

Peggy smokes her cigarette as she talks to Mikayla.

I stay idle, like a stranded astronaut floating aimlessly in space.

At times I ask Mikayla questions about where she met Peggy and what she does for a living. The two met at City College of San Francisco.

Time goes by slowly as we chow down on appetizers and talk. Throughout this whole time I don’t bother to look at the time on my camera-phone.

Not having a watch on my wrist has become cheaper now that I’ve gotten used to using my cell phone to look at the time. Who needs a watch?

It is now after our meal and we’ve walked out the restaurant. We walk back to my car. At least I thought we were?

“Oh, my God,” Peggy says. I need a cigarette.

“You smoked inside the restaurant,” Mikayla tells her. “You’re going to die if you keep doing that.”

I’ve never bothered to ask Peggy why she smokes. I’ll find out someday.

Peggy and her friend stop at a liquor store to buy a pack of cigarettes.

Next thing I knew I see Peggy with another cigarette between her index and middle finger smoking on the sidewalk.

We head back to my car.

She stops beside me.

“Francisco, can I have your jacket? I’m cold.”

“Sure.”

I take off my black suede jacket and put it on her shoulders. It’s my first time putting my jacket on a female friend and I don’t even ask her to stick her arms outs.

The walk continues.

Something happened before we crossed the street to get to my car- Peggy noticed a club was open.

“Hey, let’s go into this club.”

Mikayla follows her in.

Mayday! Mayday!

God knows what time it was now that I was left wondering why they entered the club and left me outside.

I approached the entrance of the club, hoping he would let me in. The bouncer told me that I had to pay. It’s not free? But I didn’t see the two ladies who entered earlier pay.

I went to use the ATM at the liquor store next to the club. My credit card wasn’t working. I was screwed!

I reached for my cell and called Peggy. She didn’t answer. I called her again. Nothing but her voice mail.

My last hope was to get in my car. So I went across the street and got in the car.

It was now when I noticed that the parking lot almost looked like an alley or a movie set with one wall that had been spray painted with graffiti.

Once inside the car I turned on the radio. I keep calling Peggy to tell her that I’m outside waiting for her and her friend.

I’ll wait for them to come out and take them home.

While waiting I notice a pack of cigarettes. With one cigarette. Peggy left her cigarette in my car.

I don’t feel cold inside my car. I wasn’t freezing outside either. I’m glad I was born in San Francisco. I was born in the cold, that’s why I’m used to it.

Last thing that crosses my mind is my jacket. MY LUCKY JACKET!

The worst that could happen to it is if someone stole it or if someone shot Peggy while she has the jacket it? It’s my first night wearing a “lucky” article of clothing that someone gave me. I wish Peggy hadn’t asked me for my jacket.

I take a nap with the radio on.

Monday morning. I wake up from my nap. Look at the time in the car- 2:30 a.m.

Suddenly I snap out of it. To bell with this! I’d rather sleep on my own bed. I’m getting out of here!

I turn on the ignition and drive out of there.

God be with Peggy and Mikayla.

Little did I know the ride home was going to be an adventure.

I went around the Embarcadero, Fisherman’s Wharf, and the Marina in order to get back home.

When driving through Fisherman’s Wharf I start to fall asleep.

My hands are on the wheel, but my eyes were closed. I press on the brake. Wake up!

Suddenly, I open my eyes and looked around for police cars.

There aren’t cops out this late. I can go as fast as I want.

I keep on driving.

I drive fast when heading south on Park Presidio Blvd. But not faster than a speeding bullet.

No one’s going to stop me. Carpe Diem. Seize the day. Or in this case, night.

I was finally in a great mood and not worrying about anything or anybody. All that was missing now was my lucky jacket. At least Peggy left her pack of cigarettes in my car, meaning that now Peggy and I had something we both wanted.

Now that I think about it, she really didn’t need the pack of cigarettes. Who knew she would want the pack back?

Monday afternoon. I am in the Mission District with my Mom running errands. I wait in the car when suddenly I get a call from Peggy.

We talk about last night.

“I think I got drunk,” she tells me.

“How did you two get back home?”

“We asked someone for a ride. I have your jacket. Don’t worry.”

“You left your pack of cigarettes in my car.”

“Maybe I’ll come by and pick it up tomorrow.”

“O.K. Bye.”

“Bye, Francisco.”

We both hang up.

I put my cell phone back in my left pocket. I’ve gotten used to carrying my keys and wallet in my right pant pocket and my cell, pack of gum, and my handkerchief in my left. Everything is within reach.

Tuesday. Noon. My cell phone rings. It’s Peggy.

She tells me that she is outside my house and that she has come back for the pack of cigarettes.

“Francisco, I’m outside your house.”

“Is it the one with all the flowers around it?”

“Yeah.”

Peg, why do you want a pack of cigarettes that you left in my car when it only has one left?

I walk outside to find her in a Mazda parked at the corner of the sidewalk. I proceed to my black Toyota Corolla and take out the pack of cigarettes she left in the car. Next I go to the Mazda and hand Peggy the pack.

“There’s only one left.”

“Oh.”

“You should’ve just bought another pack. Nice car. It smells nice inside.”

“Thanks. It’s my aunt’s.”

“I’ll talk to you later.”

“Bye.”

I go back inside my house. I didn’t mention the jacket during our conversation.

Why worry about something that might be valuable? Maybe I’ll get it back tomorrow.

Wednesday. It’s around noon. It’s a sunny day.

I am at the gas station at 24^th Avenue and Noriega Street filling my mother’s car with gas. My first errand of the day.

My cell phone rings. It’s Peggy. I answer the call.

“Hi, Peg.”

“Hey, Francisco. Where are you?”

“I’m at the gas station putting gas in my mother’s car. I’ll be at your grandma’s in 5 minutes.”

“O.K.”

“See you soon.”

I hang up and put the nozzle back in the tank. Close the lid of the gas tank

I park close to Peggy’s grandmother’s house. I finally notice that the house is painted blue.

I call Peggy on my cell.

“I’m outside your house.”

“Coming.”

I start to walk up the driveway where a door opens. Out comes Peggy holding my black suede jacket in one hand and talking holding her cell phone to her year with the other. Multitasking. She is barefoot. Her long wavy brown hair makes her look like she just got out of bed.

I notice that the red nail polish on her toenails has been chipping. I look up at her as she hands me my jacket.

“There you go.”

“Thank you.”

I turn around and head back to the car, but first I stop and smell the jacket twice.

Where have you been for the past 4 nights? I missed you- I need you.

Maybe Peggy put perfume on it during the days she had it to herself. My lucky black suede jacket might have kept her warm for a few nights.

Now it was mine again.

I walked back to the car and headed home. My mother was probably going to tell me to put the jacket in the laundry basket.