2003-02-25 - 6:16 p.m.

Here's a continuation of the previous story:

The next night I was over at Jenny�s. Watching Smallville with her was our usual Tuesday night thing. I would make smart comments, pretending I didn�t care about what was going on, but sometimes I�d just sit quietly, maybe rubbing her feet as we watched.

Dan called my cell phone in the middle of an early scene. Young Clark Kent was looking meaningfully at his girlfriend in the school hallway just as I pressed "talk."

�Dude, what're ya doing?� he shouted at me. Wherever he was, it was noisy. I imagined him leaning back in his bar stool, a beautiful woman hanging off either arm.

�Yeah, not much, just hanging out,� I said in a steady monotone, half distracted by Jenny. I leaned forward in the couch to get a little distance from her. With Dan on the line and Jenny listening in, I suddenly couldn�t find my voice. So I clipped my sentences and rushed to a conclusion, telling him I�d call him later.

�You and your girlfriend have got to come out,� he told me. �Brush off the dust from your bones, man.�

�Yeah, don�t you worry about me,� I said.

When I hung up, I leaned back against Jenny and gave her a kiss.

�Whosat?� she asked.

�Just Dan, out on the town again.�

�What a party animal. Why don't you go out with him?�

"I dunno," I said.

Then I turned back to the show, but I couldn�t keep my mind on it. I started rubbing her feet more, like I suddenly had to give her the massage of her life. Instead of the TV, my eyes darted over to the stuffed animals on the shelf, all set up in an orderly row, all staring vacantly back at me. Then I looked over at the little-girl-on-a-fence figurine over the TV and the Hello Kitty clock on the wall, and I suddenly felt that they were all staring at me too. Now I couldn�t watch the show if I tried.

�Hey, easy on the feet there, buddy,� Jenny said, digging her heel lightly into my leg.

�Sorry,� I said and gave her feet a rest.

As a commercial came on, I got up and went over to the bathroom. I didn�t have to go, so I just washed my hands. Then I just sort of leaned into the mirror and stared at my face for a minute, not looking for anything in particular. You can see a lot when you look at your face up close in a mirror. I could see all the little hairs I�d missed shaving, and the little jags in my skin. I tried to see if my hairline was receding, but I couldn�t tell.

I sat back down to watch the show, though I still wasn�t really watching. For some reason I kept thinking of all the things I�d been meaning to do since I�d moved here, like take a Spanish class or drive to Milwaukee. I felt like sitting down and making up a list. Somehow making up lists makes me feel better, like I�m already one step closer to making my dreams come true. Just thinking about writing up a list was making me feel better.

I thought maybe I�d call Dan back when the show was over. He�s always good for a laugh, anyway. Dan will probably want to get a band started up, I thought. I wondered if I�d want to do that after all. Maybe I�d add that to the list of things to do. Not the actual forming of the band. Just the thinking of forming the band.

-

A week or so later I was sitting there in my favorite chair with my acoustic guitar on my lap. I�d pulled it out that day from the back of the closet, where it was hidden from the world by an army button-up shirts in blue and white and a few casual polos. I hadn�t touched the guitar in ages, so I figured it was time to get reacquainted. I was just sort of strumming it, playing one fret over and over again in a droning sound, then switching frets and strumming that one for a while. I was enjoying it, just sort of staring inot space, not thinking anything, just trying to make that one note last, make time stand still. I knew Dan would be coming back any time now, but I didn�t want to think about that just yet.

We were just going to jam a bit, nothing too crazy, just sort of fool around. He was bringing his guitar up. We�d both played guitar in the old band. Sometimes we�d say he played lead and I played rhythm, but really we both just screwed around.

We were just going to jam, not form a band or anything. But I knew that was coming. I couldn�t help but wonder, as I sat there strumming in the fading afternoon light, where this was all going, how I could get myself out of it. Or maybe I really wanted it. I tried to think of why I couldn�t do it, what terribly important things in my life I�d be disrupting if I did it, but I couldn�t think of anything. The only reason I could think of was this vague dread I was feeling.

I heard the key jangle in the lock and braced myself.

�Dude!� he said. �What are you, Dracula now?� He dumped a big cardboard box on the floor and turned on the light. I guess it had gotten pretty dark. On top of the box he set the duffel bag that was slung over his shoulder, and on top of that, his guitar case.

�You really think you�re moving in, don�t you?� I said wryly.

�Relax, man, a week or so is all I need.�

�Yeah, right. You said that last week.� I set my guitar down by my feet.

�No, last week I said a couple weeks,� Dan said. Which, technically, was true.

He threw his coat on the couch and went into the bathroom.

�Dude, we are gonna jam,� he said. It was his charming habit to talk as he relieved himself.

�Yeah, we�ll see,� I said. I went over to his stuff and tried to push it all together. For a minute I wanted to shove it into a corner, sweep it all away. But then I thought, screw it, let it be here. I hate this place as it is anyway.

�Forget all this "we�ll see" bullshit, man,� he said as he reappeared in the hallway, lighting a cigarette. �That�s all there is to it. We are gonna jam.�

Then he went into this whole big thing, with this whole sincere look on his face that you can never quite believe, about how he�s so glad I�m letting him stay here, and he knows I have my own life and doesn�t want to intrude. And I thought, man, I don�t know what the hell I�m afraid of, maybe he�ll grow up. I said, yeah, man, it�s cool. I don�t know about this whole band thing, I said, but we�ll see.

�Maybe we�ll do a little strumming, anyway,� I said as a slapped my legs and stood up. I thought I�d get us something to drink.

�All Ri-ight,� he said eagerly. He sprang up to get his guitar out.

And then, when we had both settled back into our seats, we started in on a mean riff.

previous - next