Elvis died that summer

My parents separated when I was 17 years old. I remember that night when my mother told my father that it was over, that she was moving out. It was dark in the house and the Eagles “Hotel California” was playing on the record player. We lived in a house that was very far out in the desert and I remember looking out my window at the city lights, and trying hard to listen to this new album. My father lost his mind and started to throw things, break things. When my mother said she was calling the police, he pulled the phone off the wall. He put his hand through a wall. I hid behind a chair. I don't know where my sisters were, all I know is that night my Mom left and for awhile after that she was living in a motel. I don't have many memories of that time; I think I was pretty much on my own.

Eventually my mother moved in with a friend and then rented a house for herself and a few days later she took my sisters to the new house. Each day I would come home from school and there would be a few things missing. My mother would come up during the day and take things out of the house. My father would drink himself to sleep each night. Each of them wanted me to take sides, my mother would tell me that my father was a bastard and my father would call my mother a whore and then he would cry for the rest of the night.

I visited my mother now and then, but I wasn’t allowed to stay overnight. I listened to Electric Light Orchestra in my sister’s new room in the small rented house, and then I would go home to the empty house in the desert. I kept my distance from my father and I don’t remember what I ate for dinner or for lunch. I know that I got thinner. I didn’t have any friends in the area, so I was alone most of the time.

Elvis died that summer. I wasn’t’ a big fan, but I still felt sad. I took a long walk in the desert. I walked out through the fields of chollas and creosote bushes. It was a very hot day and when I got home, I decided to create a little memorial to Elvis. I took a piece of wood and hammered in a few nails and then painted it. I painted it over and over.. it was so coated with different colors of paint that I could find in the garage. I was careful not to make a mess. I didn’t want to upset my father. I spent the entire day, crafting this little piece of art, and then I tossed it out into the desert. Goodbye Elvis.