0 comments/ 7426 views/ 0 favorites March Lady Friends By: alligatorhunt My wallet so deeply offended my posterior sentiments on the ride from Atlanta, that I am forced to clean it out. Leaving only the most very necessary elements; I discard a 2000 school ID, a Brasilian bus pass, a bank receipt for $400 and a six month old Durex condom in a purple wrapper. Tossing them in the middle of a train station parking lot for vagrants to look and wonder. Good littering contributes to a greater universal weirdness. And Alabama and Mississippi admirably approach an aesthetic vacuum. Thickets bestrewn with carrion, pool tables and rusted sheet metal carcasses once prompted my traveling companion, one Mr. J.W. Gerrity IV, to explore notions of emigration. "This is not the America you ever see"-he looked up from the Terry Schiavo edition of the New York Times- "This is bumfuck nowhere." This emerged on a train en route to my "city of sabbaticals". Where the big river flows from America's southernmost and oldest orifice lies a booze puddle, there only alcoholics sleep in the streets. There awaited my fate, in a cyclical academic oil spill. And a life in three weeks of dirty laundry on Manhattan-stained sheets, amongst the books of merit beneath those I actually read, within sauce-stained Styrofoam containers, inside a small cache of Skittle-colored pharmaceuticals, on a hotplate, cast in the shadow of a choirgirl intimacy primarily based on chemicals and supplemented by inborn mental imbalances. Is not each poet led by libido, or more specifically: its non-fulfillment? No. Being queer, I write through ennui though each poet lies. I lied on a pool table before that voyage. A memory quite beer scented and decrepit whose sensual nuances I immediately regain based on the visual stimuli across the glass. Sunday, somebody said: "Somehow cast adrift, we were confined to our flotation device for three Sundays since our second meeting..." But as the liquor-stained pool table was not a life raft, inflatable and buoyant, I feared naught. We stared up and out through the glass façade at the twilight diffusing into the clouds. Laid face down, I could not hear her next to me. Hair covered my ears. "How far could we float into the night if we stayed here?" was what she asked the ceiling. I caught the third repetition. "Well, we could drift as far as we cared, not budging an inch." Such riddles and puns never fail to confuse & delight me. We played such nonsense for some hours. My misled brothers interrupted occasionally and abashedly excused themselves-unaware my intended intercourse was aural. "What's the most important thing to you in the world at this point?" she mused, her lips flushed. "Aesthetics." I said, blowing smoke upwards. "My senses are really all I have, no faith in this memory, just the immediate five stimuli and a reverence for that which overwhelms it. It's like quantum foam or Karma, you know, all around." I scorched my nose, unseen in the dark. She brushed hair from our faces, "For most animals it's sex, us included; but I feel you." "Do you?" "I want to, but I can't lie here anymore." "Pardon?" "Let's do something right now." she whispered, tapping her fingers rhythmically on my belt buckle. Indeed, the dope controlled the situation by now. "Let's smoke and make music, chill?" I mumbled through the clouds around my head, "I'll sing of the moment, will you strum the box?" Grasping the Gibson by the neck, she started plucking an F minor chord. Silver saxophones chimed in my mind and I drawled about every just beast, leaving, where I lived, a mountain range and jaywalking. With each chord change and repetition, my voice stuttered-subtle slips betraying my lyrics I no longer understood. Weary around 3 am, we blazed a trail towards my room. She was too tired to attempt the trek back to school she said. Not touching is a tremendous trick, two people to a single bed but I did my best that night. It was unnatural laying stiff. And she fidgeted in her sleep ceaselessly -drawing breath in uneasy cadence. I never sleep much anyhow. Abandoning the exercise, we both left the bed early, long before sunrise. "I need to change. You can chill, but the bathroom is down the hall if you need to freshen up." I said. I went towards the door but she refused to leave. She sat at my desk and turned on my computer. "I'll just check my email while you do." So she stayed and I stood befuddled in the rear of the room. My stare never parted the back of her head while I was naked... On Monday. I attended multiple classes that one day on the week in question. As I approached siesta afterwards, hellish ringing chided me. I thought of cellular phones: I never need immediate contact with anyone. Calls stuttered terribly, static pock marking each syllable. With accumulated rage from half a dozen such predecessors, (each more functional than the next) I examined the concrete eighty feet below my window each night. Adrian's was a uniquely welcome call and her plan to barhop my way with her sisters sounded kosher. I was expecting a midnight summons. "I'm wasted and can barely walk, baby, will you take care of me?" Hatred of The Boot notwithstanding, a delayed beckoning found me inside seventy minutes into Tuesday. After speaking briefly, Adrian excused herself to egress for an hour in the lavatory. Then I bore her, bubbling, to my eighth floor corner window. After two hours of vomiting and unconsciousness she seemed chipper. And I had planned on sleeping. She told me to turn off the television, the finer points of R.P. Mc Murphy and Nurse Ratched escaped her. I closed the window and my roommate stirred slightly. I watched her lying on my bed, shivering. "Do you have a blanket?" she pleaded with her arms massaging goosebumps. "You're on it, fool." I smiled and changed my shirt. Somehow she managed to wriggle beneath the comforter and sheets to the total ruin of my immaculate bed setting. I joined her and she promptly stretched, slinging her arm over my chest. "Thanks for taking care of me" she kissed in my ear. Equating a kiss to a handshake and infallible 'goodnight', I turned to return it. I completely missed her cheek and wound up with a tongue in my mouth. She exploited the folly instead of laughing as I had expected. Ignorant to the punch line, the joke was on me this time: Her [giggling]: "I can't believe I just kissed...you." Me [Stone-dead shocked]: ... Solely because such silence shattered my psyche I spoke. "Umm... yeah, unbelievable." I uttered, bereft of tact. Me [aside]: "Eureka! I'm straight now, she'll slumber soon. Slow down, maintain control. And one tongue-wrangling could not fuck all this up?" Roommate stirred slightly more disturbed than before. But we played house quietly and the room was quite dark. Her [hands straddling my face]: "Make love to me!" His third stirring came around this time and was markedly more energized insofar as the sheets laid strewn on the floor, blowing in the wind, once I glanced over from the exodus' cause. To fulfill her basest needs, I sought a melody. I pressed a button. Stockholm Syndrome flowed from my laptop. Her: "I love you." I simultaneously shrunk six inches at this statement. Me [mentally paralyzed]: "I love ... you..." We snuck on the roof once dawn approached and saw two black bridges rise from the bright magenta sky. Before we returned, somebody said: "Clearly the purple moon results from caustic chemical seepage into our fragile aquarium. But who can resist the shining with his eyes..." And jazz sounded at medium volume behind my locked door until noon. My companion awakes as we stop in Birmingham. Small single story ranch homes line streets- speed limit 25 miles per hour. I could notice america here. All the flags are a dead giveaway, however, the reappearance of mailboxes cemented my security. I figured a city with bitter ghosts would appear more ominous and less the omnipresent suburban image. Pickup trucks with victory signs plastered to the bumpers and blacks riding the bus. Nobody rides the bus. Only in select cities; obsolete soon nationwide. My companion rises from his resting place and splits. Where he's bound I can't tell. I've spilt my gin everywhere. Unfortunate-the cup will be refilled from the handle below my seat. Alone, I call one last time before I will relax regardless. Stepping out into the hallway, I notice my reception is dependably poor. Eight rings precede her voice, each several seconds apart. Finally the earphone jerks awake. "Adam." "Hey you" "What..." And then silence. And then I swear. I hear a man coming and he works on the train. Donelle is the steward next door who wakes me and J.W. for meals. I have known him for some time. "What's the problem you got there man?" he asks and laughs. "Bloody phone's busted. Lost my girlfriend- that shit." He taps my shoulder as he continues past to assure that he does know that shit, as he claims. She does not call back, as usual. Not having spoken in a week, I head to the toilet to prepare for dinner. A distracting episode reappears two cars behind in a blonde, thin, bespectacled, reading Proust. Her likeness is identical to a ghost I know. Whose qualities during my second and third returns to the restroom I recall. Captain: "Never have I seen so gorgeous a creature as this." Me: "One more drink should suffice." Ten minutes sufficed to drown my conscience. Staggering to the banks and leans of the tracks, I approached after rum-swaggered rehearsal. She sat alone, searching outside the window. I stood still. "Hi, excuse the disruption but I noticed you before and you look like you can aid me in my particular situation. May I sit down?" I said. She smiled before I finished. "Sure, I don't mind if you sit." says the Angel. She spoke with Scarlet O'Hara's accent. While she simply smiled as she said lesser words of a sentence, nouns and verbs incited her emotions. Subtlety and passion glowed behind a pleasant veneer-shimmering pink. Following introductions I forgot her name immediately, too eager to unveil my speech. Mr. Kennedy: "I meant to watch a movie on the TV in my room, however all of my friends are sleeping and I have no one to watch with me. Would you want to accompany me?" Sane Person: "Sure. Where is your room?" I bade her to follow and we ambled towards the cockpit. The loud, narrow train faced us forward therefore we resisted speaking. I reached my car and I saw Donelle. He saw her and called for me. I slid open the door. As she entered I stepped over into the adjacent doorway. "What's going on?" I asked. "Ain't you told me before that you have a girl friend?" he asked. I said, "Yeah, man." He asked, "How's that work with what you got there?" Me: "I just want someone prettier than me to talk with before supper." The PA announces dinner's end in twenty minutes. And the memory is swiftly forgotten. My friends had seen the blonde, I discover when I meet them for dinner. I highly suspected I imagined everything. They all have veal and macaroni, I order fried chicken. I tell them the story. They half understand. But they roundly agree the Angel was a stupid hick. What the fuck did they know I say, "I know, I spoke to her for four hours." J.W. says I am out of my mind. Sans lies, I recall why. Thursday. The jacket I wore was borrowed. My memory evaded me since midnight. The evening was quite memorable. A pothead friend, Coke, brought his sketchy drug buddies over and they brought acid. We planned to hold it until the weekend but such plans rarely survive the night. A party was held that night at the frat house. Coke brought our tabs in bags with maroon bulldog emblems. I planned to stay dry for my class the next morning, the half-dose I took sufficed to absorb my mind. The night's festivities included Beirut-with bourbon. Adrian called me to find pot and I had a friend of mine give her some. He could take my money tomorrow. She must have been drunk, she said love again. I remembered the first game I played. Afterwards-no memory. I woke up facedown fetus-curled on a velour couch. Over efficient air conditioning had given me a headache. The first People I saw drank outside the Boot. They seemed much too early but I knew not the time. Adrian saw me just 50 yards afterwards. I was quite surprised to see her around. We embraced. I was wet under the jacket and her hair was damp, clean. " You had a real tough night yesterday?" She asked. " Yes." I said "How do you know?" " Remember? We spoke." she laughed. "Of course we did." I knew we had," I forgot what we said." " And thanks for helping me out." she said looking ahead at a friend. Two girls waited in front of the liquor store for her, they had walked on when she stopped. She said," I came with my friends to buy wine." " Good times. I'm just returning from mine." I yawned. "At this time? Why, it's 2:45." She played with my zipper. " I have to go shower." I said. I kissed her head and said, " I'll call you later." I had missed my physics exam but the day was open. I attempted to check the time on my cell phone. It was wet and off-probably permanently so. Liquid damage has ended all my phones save one. Back at my room, I dismantled the phone and placed it on a fan to dry. And I bathed and dressed and crossed the street for food. Vital fluids in my body needed replacement, vitamin C revived me. With two large smoothies, blueberry and banana-strawberry respectively, two cups of water and a chicken salad I placated the twisting and tearing sensations in my gut. The sun shone in the pure blue sky, a slight wind blew across the street. The jacket was unnecessary-girls laid sunbathing in the grass in bikinis. Monday had been the Ides of March but in the park pink blossoms bloomed fully, filling the trees. Summer's musk lingered about, underneath the scent of the river. I had to get the hell inside quickly. Otherwise I would soon sleep in the grass indefinitely and wake up gods know where. The duration of the eight-story elevator ride seemed a quarter-lifetime. I made it to bed however and fell asleep in an hour. Dusk blazed through my room when I awoke. I showered again and dressed in the afternoon clothes. Some friends came by and invited me to come eat with them. They were headed to a bar afterwards. "I've just eaten." I said. But I would meet them after they were finished-we all agreed. My phone dried from hours on the fan. Three pieces snapped together easily, only the battery perplexed. Somehow, I managed to wake it, in a single try. The screen flickered slightly and garbled static exited the ear hole. I saw no messages but two calls to Adrian very early that morning, 45 minutes apart. I called a third time. Four tones clicked before static, three more clicks and an answer. We were both okay. I asked her about the early calls that morning. She was worried, the calls were disturbed. In them, the end of the world arose. I had mentioned it. And I had understood if she never wanted to see me. I laughed at this. We agreed I was wasted. She departed for The City the next night. I offered to drive her, borrow a car. " No, I already have a ride." She said, "My friends and I are calling a cab." Five of them in all, too many for a normal car. "That's rough, I wanted to see you before you left." I said. But absence makes the heart grow fonder she said. We would see each other upon our returns. We said we would talk next week sometime for sure. I turned off my phone and tossed it on the desk amidst the papers. I made my bed and left. I went to the bar with six friends and met more there. We were on the street until 5 am. Dawn found us on the roof, our smoke toasting its arrival. I did not sleep the next two nights. On Saturday our train left New Orleans in the morning. I slept until we reached Georgia. Our destination was Charleston, from there, I drove with four guys in a Honda Odyssey obfuscated with luggage, two kegs and six hundred hours of music east on US highway 16. By dusk on Sunday we were drunk on Hilton Head Island. The island's high schoolgirls were mostly tan and local. They averaged sixteen years old. But they did not drink. Nobody had sex. But the girls rolled in the sand and we got them wet. And none were comparable to what I angled on the Amtrak back. She sat cross-legged and examined my room when I entered. She was returning from Atlanta. She said she always lived in Mississippi but planned to leave soon. On the small screen behind her, old Jack Nicholson in a blue robe, laid on a hospital bed. The television on the train played recent love comedies and cartoons-blush-free entertainment- nothing else. Turned down low, it provided a relaxed ambience. She would leave for Nashville in May she said. The Lord had helped her decide to study deaf education. She was to be a Lady Volunteer- Orange and White through and through. I asked her to show me sign language. She did not know much and seemed shy to perform. I did not insist and said I spoke French. She told me of her trip to France the previous spring. Her French was poor however, she had not practiced since. We spoke of France and the French and of foreign travels for two hours. The conversation arrived at New Orleans. The French Quarter she said was too dirty for her. She had been there twice with her mother. And she said she did not drink. I admitted that I do, frequently. But such is the city I live in. " I have not drank in two months, since I met my fiancé." She said. She recounted the night- she was debilitated and met a boy who took her home and looked after her until morning. When she woke sober, he told her he loved her. They had talked all night but she only remembered fragments. Three days of thinking later, she called him and returned the sentiment. They spoke every night afterwards and he proposed a month later. He was a Volunteer. Her family and friends doubted the decision, but she needed to leave Mississippi. She wanted a life somewhere where she could do something worthwhile. She said she saw an opportunity she could not ignore. As the valedictorian at her graduation she spoke about opportunities and seizing them, she told me. I told her she had my complete confidence. I said hers were the purest plans I had ever heard. I wanted her then, but did not say so. She arrived in Meridian, we said good luck and god bless. I knew then I would never hear from her. Nor did I want to. Bastard acquaintances' wanton abuse lambasted me in the dining car. I ate a lamb shank, they all had steak. The kitchen ran out of ice cream before we ordered dessert. In our rooms we drank until the train arrived in downtown New Orleans. I finished the last of the rum in the train station. I threw the cup away just before stepping into the humid night. The liquor warmed me the entire cab ride home. And when I reached my door, my spirits soared to peaks not reached in weeks. I was locked out. In half an hour I found a pretty blonde who had the master key. She was alone in her room at eleven on a Saturday. We had met before but she seemed friendlier on the elevator up. I thanked her afterwards. The shambles of my room amused me. Tomorrow, with a little speed, the place could be spotless. The first move to reorder all of my affairs was visible. My floor mates were going to bars once everybody showered. I said I would go. And showered. Dressed and shaved, I called Adrian. The connection was brilliant, we heard each other perfectly. Only once did the call drop. I met a girl with an unbelievable story on the train I told her. I said the story made me remember her and told it. She said it was truly remarkable. But she was barely impressed. She said sorry for not taking my calls. She had been upstate but she said she got my messages. Monday afternoon she would return and we decided to meet that night. After nine minutes, I said " I need to go, I have to find my key." March Lady Friends "Okay." She said goodbye. I did not go to the Boot that night, none of us would. We went to a restaurant and drank margaritas. Stories of the week behind flowed for hours. At 3 am we returned, for the most part, all still sentient humans. I slept all morning Sunday and wrote on Socrates between laundry cycles later. I worked through that night, too lazy to assume a capitalist pace. Monday's two classes passed flawlessly. By noon, I was mired in the possibilities of the day. I considered my afternoon's options in the grass amidst the sunbathers, remaining there for several hours until near sundown. Then I left to seek the better viewing place a five minute climb away. Looking west, three young men passed me a joint on the roof . At nine, I got a sandwich and a red bull at the café and left for Friar Tuck's with Tex. He had a red bull as well. We walked ten blocks. And only spent five minutes in dangerous neighborhoods. We spoke of our pot dealer's recent mugging. Only D.C., I said has a higher murder rate. Neither of us carried knives but we decided it was for the better. The bar that night featured cheap pitchers of beer and 80's music. I sent Adrian a message asking her to come where I was. Her plane arrived around eleven. D. Juarez had painted a fresco on the bar's wall- A Mexican parade! We interpreted all the figures depicted. Elvis rode Cinderella's pumpkin carriage alongside several Abe Lincolns. Mainly in red and orange and green, it included several hundred individual people. Adrian disrupted our search. She wore white-a sexy small strapped top. And tight jeans. She was sober. I said, "I am at a disadvantage." She and I drank and discussed the break. We danced and the DJ played a swing song. Do you remember Jackrabbit Slim's, she asked. That was cool. We did the twist and spoke not. "I need to get a drink and see my friends." she said four dances later. She left and I watched the pool game. When I returned from the bar five minutes later and three dollars lighter with a full pitcher, I saw Adrian dancing across the floor. I observed the Pac-man Machine with a fresh beer. A friend, Tristo, came over drunk and asked, "Where's your lady friend?" "Dancing with some random douche bag." I said. He asked if I was chill. I said I am never not chill. We poured fresh beers and toasted to Pac-man. I smoked a Camel with Mindy, an Indian from Denver who loves Coke. Adrian returned and I turned from the table and looked at her. She said, "Sorry, I got stuck dancing with a creep who wants to rape me." I said, "I'm sorry." She asked if I was upset about her dancing. I smiled and said I didn't mind. But she was unconvinced. She said she couldn't do anything about it. I smiled and said I understood. She said I had dimples when I smiled. "Really?" I asked. "Yes." She said, "Is your smile fake?" I smiled again and she was displeased. I told her I never knew that I had dimples and could make no remark on my smiles' authenticity. She was drunk and done smiling for the night. I was drunk and wanted nothing more than peace. We argued for some time in front of Pac-man. The argument continued once we left the bar. She cried and told me not to touch her several times. She said she was sorry she did not act like I wanted. I said she could do what she wanted, I just wanted to see her. She asked why then I only talked to her for nine minutes after a whole week. I laughed with no answer. A very drunk girl laid on a lawn two blocks from the bar. "That's my friend" she said. I helped her lug the girl, who spoke clearly and walked unsupported after a couple minutes. When we reached a street flanked by parking garages, she said she would take her friend home. I smiled and said okay. She said, "I can't handle your being upset about me." I looped my fingers in her belt loops and pulled our hips together. "Listen." I said- "I'm sorry." I told her to say "hey asshole don't call me" if I did so too much. She did not smile. I kissed her and she sucked my lip. "Hey." I said and pulled her waist side to side, "I love you." "Goodnight Adam. I'll call you soon." She walked towards her friend who sat, legs dangling on a wall. And I continued straight on that street to my dorm, where I retired still wearing my belt. I woke the next morning and decided I needed a few weeks of rehab. Or a bag of mushrooms- something to reconnect me to reality. Neither was available, so I got myself a beer. At lunch I heard of a mixer that Thursday night. Fifty or so girls from the pink-uniformed sorority across the street were attending a black light party at my frat house. Among them, undoubtedly was Jane. She was from a small Indiana town and we met my first semester in French class. She wore braces until October. Without them, she became my first female interest in New Orleans. I told her this one afternoon. She called me every night for a week. Although I borrowed friends' phones, we managed to meet each evening. One Friday, I checked into her room around one am. She was markedly more inebriated than I that night. We laid in her bed. She played U2 and the Cranberries' orgasm song. I stayed an hour. She appeared prayerful to me with her doe-eyed gaze. I left her with a kiss on the cheek. Since, we'd spoken little. But I still had her number. On the menu at the mixer were gin and tonic and Jell-o shots. Twelve of us drank an entire handle of gin in ten minutes beforehand. We passed it around until it was empty. I definitely bogarted the bottle, but nobody seemed to mind. The girls came over all dressed in white. They were more drunk than we. And everyone wrote on each other with highlighters, which shined iridescent in the black light. Jane arrived an hour late. But girls poured in and out all night sporadically. We danced for ten minutes. I drew a smiley face on her shoulder and she signed my chest. I said I missed seeing her and wanted to go out sometime. She said I stopped liking her before. I laughed and said I had not. Of course she wanted to see me again, but she heard I did cocaine all the time. She was worried. I said, "I've done it once. It's not my style to be sky-high wired all the time." I told her I prefer weed. She believed me and said she had to leave. I should come to S&G's as soon as I left she said. I said I would call her when I arrived. I drew smiley faces on her sisters for a couple more hours. The house was empty after midnight. However, nearly fifty Jell-o shots remained. We finished them between three people. I then cajoled the drunkest brother there into driving to the club where Jane waited. Four people came on the fifteen minute trip. I alone did not have a fake I.D.; S&G's required every patron to be twenty-one. Thus, I pushed through the crowd at the door and melted into the melee. I never look back at the door. Bob Dylan's ode to Ruben Carter had just begun to play inside. I found Jane in the center, she stood in the hall between the two bars. We left before the ballad ended. She said she would pay for a cab back to school. She wore heels and had trouble walking to the curb. I told the driver where to go. She moved onto my lap and kissed me before the fare reached five dollars. My ride to the bar called me. I told him I was fine and had left with a friend. The conversation was unclear-I was committed elsewhere. I wondered why I abandoned this girl, I could have been the champion of the world. Once we reached campus she saw she had no money. I gave the driver eleven dollars, rolled out and lifted Jane from the back seat. I asked where she would go. She suggested my building-it was much closer. In my room, my roommate slept. She laid on my bed tout de suite. I removed my belt and emptied my pockets on the television. Everything fell backwards, behind the tube. My wallet, the phone and keys clattered to the desk. The Tuxedo black condom I tossed there made no sound. This homosexual trinket had humiliated me earlier when it fell from my wallet in front of two somewhat prude girls I knew. I forgot it and laid down. I thought she might sleep but she coerced me under her skirt in minutes. I struggled to stay awake throughout the early morning. My roommate slept with difficulty in the lounge. I woke naked at six am. I dressed in running shorts and lied looking at the ceiling for two hours. She wore nothing beside me therefore I knew I had not dreamt it all. She dressed airily and quickly when I woke her. She had class at 8:30 and was still drunk. We kissed goodbye for some long minutes. She left behind a lace tiara. When she departed, I showered and walked to my Philosophy of Justice class. At one pm, she called me. Thank you for last night she said, "I don't remember anything." She hoped nothing too serious had happened. I told her I barely remembered but doubted so. We would talk later. I ate lunch outside in the sun. I noticed Adrian called me the previous night and I phoned her on the stairs to my room. I told her I went to a mixer last night. And I was going to Biloxi at six. She asked what the fuck I would do in Mississippi for three days. Biloxi has beaches and casinos I said. She was upset but I responded, "I have no choice, I must go." I told her she should call me during the weekend. I then gathered the clothing strewn all about the room. When I made my bed, I recalled the extent of the night's events. The intact Tuxedo winked up from the ground. I changed my sheets and laid down. I slept two hours and called Jane. I said we should talk about last night. She was around and said she would be by outside in a few minutes. We met on the sidewalk. My months-old suspicions were confirmed. I knew she was a virgin that Wednesday when she swooned at my news. She cried on the bench. I said I'm sorry. I kissed her hand and sent her to the clinic. I told her I would call from Biloxi. I called Adrian and Jane from the beach every day that weekend. Jane never answered. Adrian was drunk each time we spoke, as was I. She thought I was in New Orleans when she called me on Saturday. I slept for forty-five minutes the entire weekend and lost my phone in the ocean. Upon my return to school, I quit my frat. I blamed them for the circumstances leading to my rape of Jane. She never called me again but I saw her every day that semester. One week after the black light party, I saw Adrian again. I planned never to tell her about fucking Jane. I felt she could be blamed, in leaving me standing alone in the street, for my annihilated hormonal stability. After a sunset smoke at Audubon Park, we returned reeking to Butler House. From my refrigerator, I took a fist-sized chocolate. Her eyes widened at its size. A purple ribbon bow tied around a small Easter bunny obscured the foil inside. She was my only catholic friend, I said- Happy Easter. We watched a movie barefoot on my bed. Within an hour the chocolate was eaten. A sister summoned her five minutes from the end. I said she should stay. We watched a half-dumb Indian smother Jack Nicholson and escape for Canada. And she washed her hands before leaving.