Another Generation Read online

  ANOTHER

  GENERATION

  Copyright © 2018 by Roberta Kagan

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

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  DISCLAIMER

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Another Generation

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty One

  Chapter Twenty Two

  Chapter Twenty Three

  Chapter Twenty Four

  Chapter Twenty Five

  Chapter Twenty Six

  Chapter Twenty Seven

  Chapter Twenty Eight

  Chapter Twenty Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty One

  Chapter Thirty Two

  Chapter Thirty Three

  Chapter Thirty Four

  Chapter Thirty Five

  Chapter Thirty Six

  Chapter Thirty Seven

  Chapter Thirty Eight

  Chapter Thirty Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty One

  Chapter Forty Two

  Chapter Forty Three

  Chapter Forty Four

  Chapter Forty Five

  Chapter Forty Six

  Chapter Forty Seven

  Chapter Forty Eight

  Chapter Forty Nine

  Chapter Fifty

  Chapter Fifty One

  Chapter Fifty Two

  Chapter Fifty Three

  Chapter Fifty Four

  Chapter Fifty Five

  Chapter Fifty Six

  Chapter Fifty Seven

  Chapter Fifty Eight

  Chapter Fifty Nine

  Chapter Sixty

  Chapter Sixty One

  Chapter Sixty Two

  Chapter Sixty Three

  Chapter Sixty Four

  Chapter Sixty Five

  Chapter Sixty Six

  Chapter Sixty Seven

  Chapter Sixty Eight

  Chapter Sixty Nine

  Chapter Seventy

  Chapter Seventy One

  Chapter Seventy Two

  Chapter Seventy Three

  Chapter Seventy Four

  Chapter Seventy Five

  Chapter Seventy Six

  Chapter Seventy Seven

  Chapter Seventy Eight

  Chapter Seventy Nine

  ANOTHER GENERATION

  California 1981

  “Is she dead?” asked a shirtless young man with long blond ponytail.

  “How the hell should I know? Look at this,” another man said holding up an empty prescription pill bottle. “This little SOB was half-full. It looks to me like she took a half a bottle of ludes.”

  “Jeez, she sure looks dead,” groaned a chubby girl with short fuchsia-colored hair.

  “Feel for a pulse.” The guy holding the empty bottle of Quaaludes said to the one with the ponytail.

  “I don’t feel anything.”

  The blond put his hand on the motionless girl’s neck.

  “Hey, Abby, you okay?”

  Abby didn’t answer. She didn’t move.

  “I’m getting the hell out of here before the cops show up. You two coming?” The man dropped the pill bottle.

  “Yeah,” the other two said in unison.

  Seventeen-year-old Abby Levi lay sprawled out on the cool sand as rays of moonlight poured like liquid mercury onto the heaving waves of the Pacific Ocean. Her head felt like a bowling ball and her body felt heavy to the point of paralysis. She couldn’t speak but she was still alive. Bile rose in her throat and something told her that if she didn’t turn over on her belly she would choke on her own puke and die. It took all the strength she had to grab onto a large rock and push herself over onto her stomach. The bitter taste stung her lips as yellow liquid spewed from her mouth. She fell back onto the sand, her face plunged into her own vomit, and wept.

  Where the hell are my friends? They left me here? she thought, as sleep overtook her again.

  She had no idea how long she had been laying on the beach. She opened her eyes and saw the sun beginning to rise. A child of about seven or eight years old stood over her.

  “Hi,” the child said.

  Abby squinted and stared at her. At first, Abby thought she might be dead because the sun was making a halo around the little girl’s long red hair.

  “Are you an angel?” Abby asked. It was difficult to focus. Her eyes were so blurry.

  A woman wearing a one-piece black bathing suit came rushing up. She had fiery hair the same color as the child’s. She was running so fast that her feet kicked sand into Abby’s face. Abby coughed. The sand stung her eyes. The woman put her lips next to the little girl’s ear. Abby couldn’t understand what she said, but her tone was angry. Then the mother grabbed her child’s hand and pulled her away so quickly that the child tripped and fell. Quickly, she got back on her feet. Abby saw the redheaded child turn to look back at her with frightened eyes. Then both mother and child disappeared into the bright sunlight.

  Abby forced herself to sit up. There were several people on the beach. The colorful umbrellas blowing in the wind reminded Abby of a carnival. It must be a weekend day, there are so many families here she thought. From the position of the sun very high in the sky, Abby assumed it was close to noon.

  For Abby, this was just another failed suicide attempt.

  I can’t even kill myself. No matter what I try to do, I wake up still alive. Same problems. Same depression.

  Her head ached with every sound. She vomited again. Two young police officers, one male, one female, walked up to her. She wasn’t surprised. The kid’s mother probably called the cops.

  “Are you all right?” the female asked.

  Abby nodded. An empty pill bottle lay on the sand. Abby quickly grabbed it and thrust it into the pocket of her shorts. She forced herself to stand. “I ate something that made me sick. I’m going home.”

&n
bsp; The officer nodded.

  Then the bottle of pills fell out of her pocket. The male cop picked it up.

  “Jeff Borean? That’s the person this prescription is made out to.”

  Abby shrugged.

  “You don’t look like your name would be Jeff,” he said. “Can I see your ID?”

  Damn it! I’m going back to the nuthouse for a while. I’ll have to spend at least another month in a hospital with some shrink telling me why I should want to change my life and how I can do it. It’s such BS. The only good part about the whole damn ordeal is that it will upset my mother.

  Abby didn’t mind being hospitalized. It gave her some time away from her broken life. Her mother had called the police on her once before. This had resulted in Abby being baker acted. It happened when her mother had caught her smoking pot in her room. When the police arrived, her mother was already hysterical, calling Abby a drug addict. Abby had threatened to commit suicide if her mother didn’t keep her nose out of Abby’s life. And so, before Abby knew what was happening, Abby found herself signed into a hospital. She had always felt that her mother didn’t want her. Their relationship had never been a good one. It was obvious that her mother favored Abby’s sister, Haley. And knowing that her mother liked her sister better than her had always been a deep but secret source of pain for Abby. However, when her mother had signed the paper allowing the police to have Abby hospitalized, Abby realized that she truly hated her mother. At that time she’d been shocked, devestated. She would never have believed that her mother would stoop so low as to turn her own child over to the police. However, after that incident, she never again expected her mother to show her any compassion. And right now, she was looking forward to her mother being very upset when the police called. And, besides, Abby figured that if she was to be baker acted again at least she could take some time off from thinking about her own problems. While she was in the hospital she could focus on all the other people who were in the cage with her and how crazy they were. She could analyze what was wrong with them instead of worrying about her own problems. She’d been in and out of the hospital so many times she had lost count. The second time she was locked up was when she was fifteen. She had a fight with her mother so she got high and had sex with all the guys on the football team behind the bleachers after the game. Then she went home, got into a hot bath, and slit her wrists. When her father found her, he called an ambulance. That was the beginning of her suicide attempts. At least that was what her parents thought. But she’d been doing strange things long before that. Once when she was seven, she held a pillow over her head hoping to suffocate and end her life. But her natural instincts and will to live took over, forcing her to throw off the pillow and gasp for air. Abby had never had a good relationship with her mother. For as long as she could remember, it seemed as if she could never please her. And although her father was kind, she always felt that he was too busy to be bothered with the trivial day-to-day stresses she faced growing up. Her first sexual encounter happened when she was thirteen, on the night her beloved dog died. She had ample warning from the vet that Buddy, her black lab, was very sick and that there was nothing that could be done for the dog. “I’m sorry, Abby. But she is an old dog. She’s lived a good life,” the vet said patting Abby’s shoulder. However, Abby refused to accept that Buddy was dying. Buddy had been her best friend and she couldn’t bear to lose her. On the night that Buddy crossed the rainbow bridge, Abby held her and wept. Both of her parents were at work at the restaurant they owned. Haley, her sister and always the good child, was with her parents helping them. And Mark, her brother, was out with his best friend, as usual. Abby was alone, facing the greatest loss of her life. She sat on the floor and held the dog in her arms, knowing that from that day forward her life would never be the same. For Abby, love was not easy to come by. She could open her heart to this precious animal more easily than she could to another human. Humans would hurt you, but an animal never would. After a while, she got dressed and walked three blocks to the liquor store. She stood outside, trying to find an adult who would be willing to buy her a bottle of whiskey, but the adults just passed her without a glance. Then a young man in his early twenties took the five-dollar bill she waved at him. “I’ll go in and get you a bottle,” he said. “What do you want?”

  “Whatever five bucks will buy. Whiskey would be nice,” she said.

  He nodded and walked into the liquor store.

  She slipped into the alleyway and leaned against the building, waiting. She knew that by giving him her money she was taking a chance. He could easily take her five dollars and just walk away. Abby knew she had no legal recourse. After all, buying alcohol for a minor was illegal. All she could do was wait and see what happened.

  He returned but didn’t hand her the brown paper bag immediately. Instead, he dangled the whiskey in front of her and insisted that if she wanted her bottle, she would have to come and have a drink in his car with him. Abby was afraid, but she wanted the alcohol. Needed the alcohol.

  The pain in her heart was so fierce she was searching for something, anything to soothe it. What difference does it make if he kills me? I want to die anyway, she thought. I have no one left on this earth that loves me. Buddy is gone. If I die then I can be with her. She got into the car. He didn’t kill her. In fact, he didn’t even hurt her. The next half hour happened very quickly. First, they both drank from the bottle. Then before Abby knew what was happening, the strange man had his hands all over her. Hands on her shoulders, her legs, her chest, down her pants, his mouth covering hers until she could barely breath. He’s an octopus, she thought. He climbed over the seat then pulled her over too. She was already tipsy and she laughed at how easily he was able to lift her. He unbuttoned his pants, pulled hers down and thrust himself inside of her. At first it hurt, but the pain was good. It was immediate and strong and, for a few moments, the very force of it took away the absolute misery of sorrow and mourning for her beloved dog. Then, as he moved inside of her, she began to feel warm as surges of pleasure made her body tingle. Then, as quickly as it began, it was over. He zipped up his pants, handed her the bottle, and told her to get the hell out of his car. Abby stood on the sidewalk with a bottle of whiskey in her hand as he drove away. She had never even asked his name. But it didn’t matter. For the few minutes that he held her in his arms, she felt no pain. He kissed her and touched her and the feelings that the encounter brought on were unusual for her. It was very strange but, for the first time in her life, when this odd man had done this thing to her she felt that another human being found her desirable, loveable. Someone wanted to spend time with her. As long as he was pleasuring himself with her body, she felt wanted. After that, the feeling of being wanted was addicting, especially since she indulged herself without trying to form relationships. The objects of her sexual affection were always only temporary. That way, she didn’t have to face the truth that they were using her. If she never got involved, they could not ever really hurt or abandon her.

  After that brief encounter, the need for quick and non-committed lovers became obsessive. She experimented with both male and female. Once, when she had too much to drink, she had sex with a married couple. Between her bouts of promiscuous sex, she took drugs to fill the emptiness.

  “How old are you?” the female officer said, stirring Abby back to the present moment.

  “Twenty-one,” Abby lied.

  “Do you have an ID?”

  “No.”

  “How old are you really?” The female officer sat down on a rock next to Abby and motioned for her to sit beside her.

  “Seventeen.”

  “Where are your parents?”

  “Chicago.”

  “So what brings you to California?”

  “I ran away from home,” Abby said. The sun was blinding her. Her head was throbbing. She began to cry.

  The female officer held her as she wept then she took Abby’s hand and helped her to her feet. “Let’s see if we can get in touch
with your parents.”

  Abby nodded. Abby hated her mother, Eidel Levi. She had always felt that her mother didn’t love her and it made her happy to know that the police were going to call her. I wish I could see my Mom’s face when they call and she finds out that I’ve been picked up by the cops again. That should really throw her and my sister off their sweet little “everything is perfect” life.

  CHAPTER ONE

  New York City 1990

  Mark Levi was packing his leather designer valise with the extras he would need to take to his sister Haley’s wedding. His rented tuxedo was already carefully placed in a hanging bag so it wouldn’t wrinkle. I am spending more money than I can afford to go to this wedding. But I have to go and I have to look good. I need to keep up the image my father has of me. He thinks I am a success, and I can’t let him know that I am struggling financially. Haley and my parents have no idea that I am working long hours as a waiter while trying like crazy to make it big as a playwright. Only my sister Abby knows the truth. She is the only one I feel at ease talking to. Thank God for Abby! People say she’s nuts but I admire her. I love that crazy sister of mine because she is street smart, so kind, and always non-judgmental. When I told her John and I were lovers she accepted it without question. Somehow, it was so easy to tell her. I just knew she wouldn’t be shocked to find out that I am a homosexual and she wasn’t. He smiled to himself as he remembered sitting in a trendy coffee shop with Abby, drinking Frappuccinos in Soho. That had been over a year ago; she’d come to New York with the man she was living with at the time. That relationship was long over. Abby never stayed with a lover for more than a few months. But on the day she met Mark for coffee, the man she’d been living with was working and not able to come with her. So Abby and Mark sat together on a sofa in the back of the coffee house. It wasn’t very crowded; there were just the two of them in the back and a group of three women sitting at a table in the front. The words “I’m gay” just sprang out of Mark. Abby took his hand and just smiled. She said, “Whatever makes you happy, Marky.”