"keith laid there, feeling particularly victorious. the girl in front of him was a suitor of many, and who should be so lucky as to land angie dupont?"
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prequel to dead flowers
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mary kramer, august of '67.
HIPPIE- a person of unconventional appearance, typically having long hair, associated with a subculture involving a rejection of conventional values and the taking of hallucinogenic drugs.
"Do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband till death do you part?" It was a warm day in June, and Mary's feet were tickled by the grass below them. She wasn't stupid, and saw the priest they had hired turning his nose at the unconventional-ness of her and Jerry's wedding, but she did not care of course, "I do."
"And do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife till death do you part?" Jerry smiled across from her, taking notice of the way her unkempt hair fell long below her back. One of her friends had braided flowers into it; ripe dandelions and full daisies. Tears of happiness poking their way through his eyes, Jerry nodded, "I do."
"And you may now kiss the bride!" The priest declared, but it was in vain, as the couple had already embraced and was in the midst of a deep kiss accompanied by the subtle cheers of their friends.
"No tears!" Mary scolded, with a light laugh as she kissed away his tears. He only smiled, again, until his cheeks ached as they raced down the aisle to jump into their car, not looking back.
That was a year ago now, and with them, a baby was laid. The boy, blonde hair poking through his soft scalp, held the eyes of his mother; dark brown and impossibly revealing. The reminiscent marks of sun screen remained on his pale cheeks as Mary swayed with him, to the tune of Jerry strumming a Beatles tune on his guitar.
"Oh Buddy, you're so sweet." Mary coddled her boy. She hadn't stopped since he was born, and he'd grown attached to the rhythm of her hip, moving where she did. Jerry and Mary were sure every parent in the world thought this of their child, but he was perfect and thoughtful and sweet and kind, even for a four month old.
The name of the child turned heads of all the wrong people in their lives, but attracted all the good ones, which was half the point. Buddy Dylan Kramer was passed to his father, who rested him in his car seat, letting him sleep. Mary returned to her job of stitching patches into Jerry's worn jeans as he drove. With Humble Pie playing from the radio, Jerry reached over and squeezed Mary's thigh lovingly, comfortable with the life they had created for themselves.
Later on, their tent joined the lines of others. A group of people sang and some played acoustic guitar, circling a fire as children ran around, some peering curiously at Buddy who slept in Mary's lap. He was youngest by far, and the children who had grown up surrounded by adults in the confines of nature and their tripping parents hadn't seen a baby so small since they were that small themselves, so they marvelled at Buddy's tiny fingers and his sweet giggles.
