IX

Somehow we got through that episode, and so of course I thought that we were invincible. The night after the abortion, Adam’s play was having the first of two dress rehearsals and asked me to come. The next day, Eric was coming for the weekend to see the show, and to check out some schools around here. He was thinking about transferring out this way. So after making up the futon for Eric’s impending arrival, I made my way over to the campus auditorium.
Adam’s nervousness was apparent in his first few minutes on stage, and I hoped that it wasn’t my presence that was kicking him into full on Woody Allen mode. He was using his hands way too much, and his exaggerated inflection made his character less than believable. After he’d settled in, however, he was fantastic, catching all of his cues, and hitting all of his jokes dead on.
“You were great,” I said, throwing my arms around his neck and kissing him on the cheek as I met him backstage.
“Eh,” he said, his hand in his back pocket and his shoulders raised and pulled in close to his ears like a little boy. “After I got comfortable. Hopefully tomorrow I’ll be better. Listen, I’ll be home in about an hour, Stan’s got some stuff he wants to go over with us, but I’ll be out of here as soon as I can, okay? Maybe we’ll get a movie.”
“Sure,” I said, shrugging. I walked the couple of blocks back to our apartment, figuring that I’d work on some reading until Adam got home. When I arrived at our five-story walkup, however, my plans were immediately changed, when I found Eric sitting on the front steps smoking a clove cigarette with his backpack at his feet. He looked happy to see me, and I wondered how long he’d been sitting there.
“Hey,” he said enthusiastically, stubbing out his cigarette and greeting me with a warm hug. “How have you been? Where’s the boy?”
“The boy has another hour of play rehearsal.”
“And you?”
“And I have reading for class that I probably won’t finish.”
“That’s the spirit.” He held up his finger, indicating that I should ‘wait a minute,’ and produced a twelve-pack of Blue Moon from behind his backpack. “I come bearing gifts.” He grinned.
An hour later when Adam returned home, Eric and I were both well on our way to plastered, and hadn’t left much for him to catch up with.
“Hey buddy,” Adam said, not too surprised to see Eric here a day early. Apparently, Eric was the punctual of the two, as Adam was notorious for being on average about 2 hours late for anything in his life that someone else didn’t drag him to. Eric got up from his place on the couch next to me, and he and Adam shared a guy hug, patting each other on the back. Adam grabbed a beer, and Eric moved over a bit on the couch, after he’d sat back down next to me, to allow room for Adam to sit between us.
“So how’s life in Syracuse,” Adam asked, half-joking, as he took a sip from his beer.
“Eh, you know… I’m not going to be sorry to see it go.”
“Eric looked at Emerson today,” I offered, letting Adam in on the conversation we’d been having before he arrived home.
“What’d you think?”
“I liked it.” Eric paused and took another swig of his beer. He was less dainty than Adam, but their time together had clearly rubbed off on each other, and many of their mannerisms faded into each other. Even Eric’s smile reminded me of Adam’s, but his brown eyes did not glow the same way that Adam’s azure irises could light up a room. “It’s down to that or NYU,” but I really like this town. Maybe I just spent too much time in Manhattan growing up, but I think Boston would be a nice change of pace.”
“What about Ben, and the band,” I asked, a bit slurred on my third or fourth beer. Eric shrugged.
“They’ll get along without me. I’m just the bassist, and I’m sure I can find some people to jam with up here.” I nodded, and finished the last sip of my almost warm beer. I stood, collecting myself.
“Well, you boys catch up well I hop in the shower. Eric, there’s more blankets in the kitchen closet if you need them.
“Thanks Jane.”
As I was I was brushing my teeth after my shower, I kept the water running at a trickle, partly because I’ve always been a bit environmentally conscious, and partly because I was curious as to what the boys were talking about. I was pleased with the results of my search.
“She’s a great girl,” Eric observed. “You are a lucky man my friend. If I cheated on a girl like that, I don’t know if I’d let her take me back.”
“I know I am,” Adam said, pausing for what was probably another sip of beer. “We’ve been through a lot, man. That girl, I don’t know she just knows me like no one else. She’s crazy and fun and intense and inspiring, and if things for some reason don’t work out between us, I can never imagine wishing anything but the best for her in whatever else she does.” He paused again. “She can do anything she wants, too, she’s just that kind of person. Doors open in front of her. She’s the best thing for me… drives me nuts when I deserve it, but if I don’t have elbow digging into my rib, I just can’t sleep right.” Adam was the feelings type.
“Wow.” Eric didn’t have anything else to say for a moment. “Well when I find a girl whose elbow I want digging into my rib, I’ll be sure to let you know.” I rinsed my mouth and same out into the living room/kitchen area, towel secured tightly in a knot at my breasts. My hair was still wet, and I’d forgotten to bring another towel with me to the shower. I probably looked like a drowned rat.
“Hey sexy,” Adam said when he looked up. “We were just talking about you.” I tried to look surprised.
“Oh,” I said, raising an eyebrow and putting my arms around his neck from the back of the couch so that my wet shoulder length hair was brushing wet marks across his shoulder. “Good things I hope.”
“Of course not,” Eric contributed, and I could tell that a joke was on its way. “Mostly about your dominatrix business and how it’s getting a bit tiresome: guys coming in and out at all hours of the night. Quite frankly it’s getting to be a bit much for our boy Adam here.” I laughed.
“Well I told him he’d be a better bet, but he just wasn’t down for picking up newbies at the gay club. At least I can take one for the team. We can’t live on our love alone.” I had taken on a mock mother tone. “God knows our work study jobs won’t pay for the station wagon I have my eye on.”
“Hey,” Adam said, mock-offended. “You liked my mom’s station wagon.”
“Yes dear.” I kissed him on the cheek. “But you’re mother’s 45 and I’m just shy of 20.”
“That’s right,” Eric said, raising his beer a bit in an effort to get our attention. “You’re birthday’s coming up, isn’t it?”
“Next week.” I looked in Adam’s direction. “And I’m sure I have a fantastic gala being planned in my honor, right honey?”
“Only the best for my girl.” Adam turned his head to kiss me, and pulled me over the back of the couch into his lap, practically making me lose my towel. I giggled and was probably blushing a bit, wondering if I’d given Eric a free show.
“Alright, I’m going to go make myself presentable.”
“You do that, you big hussy,” Adam said in a mock-grandmother voice, slapping my ass like a football player as I got up to go to our bedroom. As I closed our door behind me, I heard the conversation fading.
“You got it made my friend. You are one lucky bastard.” I waited a moment before pressing my full weight against the door, as we had to do to get it to close all the way. Adam didn’t say anything.
That night I was woken up at about three in the morning by the phone ringing. Adam had crawled into bed next to me, and our bodies had instinctively intertwined. He could sleep through a fire, so I was only so careful when I untangled myself from his arms.
“Hello?”
“Jane, thank god.” It was Carrie. It was three AM.
“Carrie, what’s wrong?” She didn’t speak for a moment, and when she did, it came out like flood, quick and heavy, so that by the end she was panting with breathlessness. There was no punctuation, no pauses, no breaths.
“I’m sorry to call you so late I know it must be three in the morning at home but I really needed to talk because tonight was the worst night of my life and when I got home he was here outside my room and I didn’t know what to do and now he’s in the hospital and I don’t know if it was my fault and they don’t know if he’ll make it and I really didn’t know who else to call and…” by now she was sobbing, and I didn’t know what she was talking about.
“Carrie. Carrie,” I said again. “Stop, breathe, and start from the beginning.”
It turns out that her boyfriend, James, who we both suspected of cheating on her, had in fact, been cheating on her. When she found out she immediately broke up with him. This was yesterday, and she’d been too busy to call. When she returned back to her dorm from class, he was outside her room to plead with her to take him back. She refused, and once he’s pushed his way into her single room and the door had been closed he revealed an empty bottle of pills. She called an ambulance and wouldn’t let him leave. By the time that the ambulance had arrived he was in sad shape, and now they couldn’t tell her much more than that. He was her first love, and she really would have taken him back if he’s stuck around another half hour. In fact there wasn’t much he could do that would have caused her to not take him back. I talked to her in the bathroom until about four thirty. When I opened the door, Eric was sitting at the kitchen table in his boxers, picking at the label of a new beer.
“Everything okay?”
“I’m sorry.” I hung up the cordless phone. “Did I wake you up?”
“Eh.” He shrugged. “I’m a light sleeper.”
“Yeah, I don’t usually have to worry too much about that with him.” I gestured toward our closed bedroom door.
“He says you don’t sleep much.”
“It’s been better lately,” I lied, to an extent. It had been a little bit better. That was not to say, however, that I’d kicked the habit entirely, which was what I meant.
“So are you an insomniac?”
“Kind of…” I thought at that moment that maybe this was just beating around the bush. I got the deep impression that he knew exactly what caused my sleepless nights. “What has Adam told you?”
“Not much, just that you used to take some pills to help you study.” I was quiet. “We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.” At this point I had sat myself cross-legged on the floor at Eric’s feet.
“It’s okay, it’s not a big secret or anything. I don’t take them that much. Anyway.” I tried to think of a way to change the subject. “What are you thinking about school?”
“I’m thinking Emerson’s probably the way I want to go. I really don’t like the film program I’m in, and there’s a lot more of an arts community here in general. Plus, I’d be closer to you guys…” He cut himself off, and let the last sentence hang in the air. It was strange that he’s included me in that, not just glad to be close to Adam, but happy to have me around as well.
From then it became apparent that Eric kind of idolized Adam in a way. There was a bit of mutual idol worship between the two of them, but it was clear that Eric saw us as a golden couple. He romanticized our troubles and the depression, the pills, probably the abortion if he’d known about it, and I realized I’d have done the same thing, it was just the personality we all had. We were miserable artists and Sid and Nancy were our Prom King and Queen. We stood around in corners poking fun at those who had the misfortune to be happy, which clearly made them uninteresting. Only suffering could last, and we were all determined to make ourselves suffer as much as possible.
I excused myself shortly after that, and lie awake until my alarm went off for my first class, wondering about the validity of all that. I wondered if maybe I had gotten a bit better about the pills. I had been sleeping better, and I was convinced at the time that it was because I was so in love and was cleaning up my act
Just the opposite in fact, I’d lost my Desoxyn contact when my old floor mate had gone back home. Apparently, she’d voluntarily committed herself to MacLean, joining the ranks of Sylvia Plath, James Taylor and my uncle. In any case, the loss of that associate forced me to seek out illegal meth connections, prompting even less sleep. When I complained to my mother about this, she insisted that I take the sleeping pills that her doctor prescribed for her.
“They’re an absolute life saver,” she declared, with a hint of the southern accent she’d acquired in two years of college in Virginia, but had somehow not rid herself of in about 20 years in New England since. I think she fancied herself a bit of a Scarlet O’Hara, and I didn’t want to spoil her fantasy. She was right about one thing, after all, the pills were an absolute life saver, and soon I was taking the depressants nightly to get a little bit of shut eye. Between that, the abortion, and my family history, I should not have been at all surprised when my days became increasingly shorter with the season, and I began to retreat more and more into my own little world.