The Ludmila Confessions

When I finally  left  my sister’s house, after being there for few weeks,  we went to sign the escrow documents, the Deed to Casa Chica.  My sister insisted  on putting in the name of her daughter; I think as her next of kin, since she was not there and had no money invested in the property. We very happily went to “Casa Chica” to take possession! Mama was with me, and we say goodbye to the old owners, a lovely Italian couple but very old.  They had enough of the beach and work on the house, which I did not mind at that time. I was just happy to be there, in a new world, on the waterfront! It was my dream come true.

The days went great, cleaning the cottages was not so bad after all. When I finished  I would jump in the warm wonderful water of the Gulf of Mexico to rest , the only thing that was a drag was the phone would ring just as I was in the water. I remember it was the old fashioned phone where you dial by sticking your finger on each number. I had the bell ringing outside so I could hear it on the water, but not being superman or  superwoman I could never get to it on time, they inevitably  would hang up with the idea that no one is there; this was  bad for business,  Galina comes on week ends with her family and friends, then gives me hell for not answering the phone;  where were you she asks?, They don’t want to hear any excuses, si they go back to Davis island which by now they move from the greenhouse to a mansion on the waterfront, with a pool, 2 stories high. They were putting a damn elevator from the kitchen up the bedroom up stairs, wow, I thought, this is great.

In the meantime I lived in a closet with linen lined up wall to wall and washing machines, driers, and no  shower, (looking back I see they took me for dummy; because of my trusting hear, but what else could I do?  I was a fool–they took me for what I was; a happy go lucky party drunk, a softy who had no idea of business. But in the process I was getting hurt and hurting others, something was wrong with me, but being a happy person I never stopped to think “what’s going to happen next?” I did not want to get in a fight with Gala; she would not accept any suggestions or spend any money in fixing my room, after buying all these houses she was cash poor and rich in properties. So I just lived my life day by day, that’s all; finally we agreed on putting in an answering service, because the clients needed a personal voice to answer.

She was in control of all my coming and going. The one day when I had to account for the money receipts, she stayed in the cottages, and I went to the Bank to deposit the money, My Johnny the Biker, the one I was waiting for to appear at the door of Casa Chica Cottages,  wanted to surprise me with  presents, and flowers. But  I wouldn’t find out for a long time after, months later, when one day everybody was here in C.C.C. in a week and I asked Gala “By any chance, when you are  here answering  the phone, did a handsome gentleman  call or stop by?  A guy by the name of Johnny? “Do you meant the gypsy on a motorcycle?” ,”Yes, did he leave me a message ?” As we were sitting outside drinking martinis, then switching to Pernod, she told me the whole story and of course the booze loosens anybody’s tongue! She told me, “I took the flowers and chocolates that he left home with me; he had another package but those ones he did not give me, and he took off rápido!” I can imagine my sister attitude! It was needless to ask her, “what was in the note?” I am sure he left one, but now I will never know? All the way as I ran to the water, I could hear her screaming “Remember you’re running for mayor of Indian Rocks Beach! How will it look to the voters, a biker living with you?

God how opinionated is this world! as I swim I still hear her screaming ”He’s just a gypsy!”

I know that he is proud and educated, and most been hurt by my sister’s cold reception, and I’ll never see him or hear from him again! sob sob sob!  Dear God he drove his Harley from Calif. straight to me, and my sister told him that I moved to Miami, somewhere in Miami she did not know.

She knew that in Hollywood I used cocaine at parties with  alcohol. I would party with rock people and gypsies since Jack, my ex, was in the Music  business. So I knew lots of musicians; she thinks she is saving me from all this “bad environment”.  She did not mean any harm; she was just trying to run my life the correct way, her way, as she saw it.

Monday I have a appointment with the local F.B.I. I want to be an interpreter, there are not too many people that speak Spanish as we’ll as I do, and English, sée what we’ll happened? like the Idea too work for than.

Looking at the greet sunset with a drink in my hand in this warm waters off the gulf, then taking a shower outside, on this hot summer of 1981, but what be the water outside in winter?

Florida can be very cold, then where we’ll I shower?   Their we’ll  be no cottages available, since     all off them cottages are book.

I we’ll order  a bath tap so I proceed asking city Hall for a permit

One evening I was lonesome so after the meeting in City Hall, went too my  favorite friend and owner of this Jhnn’s Bar in the waterfront,  bring you owned bottle bar, the other site off C.C.C. on  a canal for boats to pass to the open waters off the Gulf, very close by, few block 3 or 4 , where I meet Gary, bring your own bottle bar, also where you can buy tackle for fishing, this place weird broken boats lying around with neets hangin on the bar, ( small bar)  your were lucky to get a stool at the bar, it had a great atmosfere, off local, and pilots, al cain of  interesting different people locals mix  with beach people and fisherman.

The snowbirds don’t go too my bar at night, only in the day time to buy  fishing equipment, ice, sodas , water etc.

So I put a jacuzzi next to a Bay window  in the middle of the laundry storage bodega room bedroom, all on one, that not only gave me light but a open space overlooking the little garden outside the back off the cottage,  that  is way, I need a permit, especially since I am running too  public office, which my sister, and Ken insisted ,  we can benefit from that, so I was the puppet, and believe or not I only lost by very few 3 or so votes.

Gerry Brumer move with mi, it was pleasant until I realise he was a real alcoholic, peeing in bed, just one off he thinks, thank God I never did, and don’t want to get that drunk, I am I control drinker so I believe,

Then he took my little car, which  move  me to Fl., and left a note, he is flying back to Houston, left the car in such and such floor off the airport  the keys under the matt.

Well,  well, I will show him, that, so and so,not play whit me? I show him not too play with me , so

I we’ll find him, went to the airport found the car and then went back to C.C.C. drink some more, of course to settle my nerves, how can can aibing and gruel can be the friend the buzz Mr. alcohol and proceeded to call the airport to say their is a bomb, that someone left there who is going to Houston, and hang up, jajaja I was happy to fuck him, there, I show you, we’ll, never thinking off the consequences, of this act? They can trace the call (never thought of that)  by the way his note said gooby, so nothing happened now, I can devote more time to start inviting people for charcoal hamburger and hot dogs and beer by the beach to  campaigning  more heavier….

Monday morning, I have a appointment with the local F.B.I.! I want to be an interpreter, there are not too many people that speak Spanish as well as I do, and English, let’s see what will happen? I like the idea of working for them!

Looking at the great sunset with a drink in my hand in the warm waters of the gulf, then taking a shower outside, on this hot summer of 1981– but what will the water be like in the winter?

Florida can be very cold, then where will I shower?   There will  be no cottages available, since all off the cottages are booked for the winter. I think “I’ll order  a bathtub!,”  so I proceed to ask City Hall for a permit.

One evening I was feeling lonesome, so after the meeting at City Hall, I went to my favorite friend’s, the owner of this John’s Bar on the waterfront. It was a BYOB (bring your own bottle) bar, on the other site off C.C.C. on a canal for boats to pass to the open waters off the Gulf, very close by. It was onlya few blocks, maybe 3 or 4, where I met Gary at the bar, the kind of place where you can buy tackle and bait for fishing. This place had weird broken boats lying around with nets hanging on the wall and ceiling, a small bar where you were lucky to find an empty stool; but it had great atmosphere, sailor and pilots, all kind of  interesting people, the locals mixed with beach people and fishermen. The snowbirds don’t go to my bar at night, only in the day to buy fishing equipment, ice, sodas, water and so on.

I got my permit, so I put a Jacuzzi next to a Bay window  in the middle of the laundry storage; it had a bodega bedroom, all in one, that not only gave me light but a open space overlooking the little garden outside the back off the cottage. That  was why I needed a permit, especially since I was running for  public office, which my sister and her husband Ken insisted on!  She thought we could all benefit from my being mayor, so I was the puppet, and believe or not I only lost by very few votes, three or so.!

Gary Brumer moved in with me. It seemed pleasant at first, until I realized he was a real alcoholic, peeing in bed, just one off he thinks, thank God I never did, and I don’t want to get that drunk– I am I a control drinker, or so I believe. Then he took off in my little car, which carried  me to Florida, and left a note saying he was flying back to Houston, and left the car in such and such a floor off the airport with  the keys under the mat.

Well, well, I will show him, that so and so, not to play with me! I decided I would find him, and went to the airport, found the car and then went back to C.C.C. to drink some more, (of course to settle my nerves!), how cruel can be the friend,the buzz Mr. Alcohol. I proceeded to call the airport to say there was a bomb, that someone left there who is going to Houston, and hang up! Jajaja! I was happy to fuck with him, there, I’ll show you!

As usual, I was never thinking of the serious consequences of this act. The police can trace the call (never thought of that!) by the way his note said goodbye so nothing happened. Now I can devote more time to fun, start inviting people for charcoal hamburgers and hot dogs and beer by the beach, and to campaigning for mayor…