2003-02-11 - 6:47 p.m.

"I'm really proud that you've managed to finally open up and be honest like this," Jean said. She was jammed right in next to me at the table - the room was not much bigger than a walk-in closet. A special event had booted us from our normal space.

"Uh, actually, this is a fictional story," I said. I couldn't decide whether I should feel flattered or annoyed.

-

Dan Gets In

Dan came into town today. He�d been relegated to a hazy space in my mind, peppered with giddy laughter and strange smells. Sitting on the arm of a ratty old couch, eating macaroni and cheese out of a pot. Late nights strumming a guitar with a cracked bridge. And lots of drinking. A hell of a lot of drinking. And lots of screwing around, playing Nintendo and just riffing off each other. �Bite me, bitch,� he�d tell me. �Suck it,� I�d answer back. That was college.

It was strange to see him out here in the real world, in my world. So out of context, like a character that you remembered reading about in a book, who one day starts following you on trips to the bank or the grocery store. That�s what he�d become, just the character in some fantasy I�d dreamed up years ago. In our fantasy, the Fungi � that was our band � would break out of the college scene and take Chicago by storm, followed by the world. We were gonna get a kickass loft in the middle of the action, bring in the ladies, and party till we either got old or died.

That was the idea. Only problem was, I was ready to go and Dan wasn�t. I graduated; he stuck around Ohio State. I headed to Chicago a few months later, got a place in Bucktown and a job in the Loop. Dan moved to another college apartment, smoked a lot of pot, and stumbled through the stats class he flunked the year before. Then he stuck around another year and did God knows what.

Party till we either got old or died. Funny how quick you feel yourself getting old. Two years ago I felt invincible. Once I got a job, settled in, and got a lay of the land, I could do anything. Then getting settled in turned into a routine - working late, hanging out at Jenny's, watching a little TV before bed. Every once in a while I�d check the ads for bands who needed a guitarist, but somehow I knew the whole band thing would never happen.

I probably would have let myself drift away from Dan forever, letting him become another finished chapter in my life. But he showed up unannounced at my apartment this afternoon, a knapsack over his shoulder and his old beater parked in front of a fire hydrant. The first thing I said, after �He-e-e-e-y,� was, �Man, you�d better move that thing. You�ll get a ticket.� He just smirked at me like I was a loser and stepped inside the gate.

When we got inside my apartment, I felt silly to have kept the place so tidy. I suddenly looked at the place through different eyes � his eyes. I�d picked up a new leather couch, a couple chairs and a coffee table. The walls were completely bare. Since I was living by myself I hadn�t bothered to decorate. I guess I don�t care much about decorations.

�Dude, you have gone square,� he said before body-slamming my couch. �What, did you just take the wrapper off this thing?� I hadn�t spent much time on the couch. The way he racked up hours on them, I figured he would make it feel used in a hurry.

�No. I�ve just got better things to do than sit around on the couch, man.� I tried to pick up that old bullshitting thread, but it�s tough. Instead I wound up just sounding defensive.

We talked awhile, about what he was up to, what he was going to do. He planned to get a place in town, get a job waiting tables or something, just have a good time. I just kept nodding and asking follow-up questions. I felt like an idiot, sitting there facing him, trying to figure out how I should be presenting myself, what my attitude should be � disgruntled? confident? indifferent? My hair felt so short, my button-down shirt so neat. I imagined I should be doing something, anything but sitting here and saying �Yeah� again and again.

I went to the kitchen and started cooking some onion rings. It was the closest thing to college I could think of.

-

We went out that night to check out a band I�d heard of. We sat back by the bar. Dan kept buying me shots of Jim Beam, like I always used to drink. They were rough going down � I guess you have to keep in practice if you want to enjoy the taste.

After a while, though, I started feeling good. We were going at it like old times, rating the girls we�d known in college, going over the nights when we�d wound up shit-faced drunk on the floor. To me it was reminiscing, but for him, this sort of thing was a current event.

�Man, we�re gonna have some good times out here,� he said as we put back another one.

�Yeah, we�ll see,� I said.

He looked at me funny for a minute.

�What do you mean, we�ll see?� he asked me.

�No, I mean, yeah, it�ll be great,� I answered back meekly.

The music was just starting up, and we couldn�t talk anymore. I turned in my stool to face the band and listened for a groove to lose myself in.

previous - next