Storiesonline.net ------- Rewind by Don Lockwood Copyright© 2004 by Don Lockwood ------- Description: This is a time travel story. Ed Bovilas goes to bed on October 2nd, 2007, a 42-year-old man who thinks he's having a heart attack. When he wakes up-he's alive, but it's October 3rd, 1977, and he's 12 years old. Codes: mf TimeTr slow rom 1st teen sch cons safe oral anal ------- ------- Rewind-The Premise This is a time travel story. Ed Bovilas goes to bed on October 2nd, 2007, a 42-year-old man who thinks he's having a heart attack. When he wakes up-he's alive, but it's October 3rd, 1977, and he's 12 years old. I need to mention a story here, Doing It All Over by Al Steiner. He deserves credit here, because I don't think I could've written Rewind without his example. This isn't a copycat-there are elements of similarity but, overall, my story is far different-but DIAO was an influence. There are plenty of time-travel-type stories up in the sex fiction community. So, with that in mind, I'll tell you what Rewind isn't-it isn't a 'guy goes back in time and fucks everything in a skirt' story. Ed does have sex-and he has it like they used to vote in Boston: early and often --but he's a fairly monogamous guy and a romantic at heart. Now, he's not monogamous with the same person throughout the story-this isn't a 'meet your soulmate at 14' story like DoaL-but he also doesn't sleep with seven women in four days. Not his style, at all. There's also NO incest in this story. Unless you count second cousins as incest, which I don't . While this is, obviously, sci-fi or magic-I don't get bogged down in it. There's no explanation as to why Ed goes back in time. He's never told, so the reader is never told (Rewind is written in first person POV). There is an anamoly with how he ends up-he's, basically, a 12-13-14 etc year old boy, who also happens to have the memories and experiences of a 42-43 etc year old man. He mostly thinks and reacts like the teenaged boy-but he's got other things to draw on. And he's definitely attracted to girls his 'own age', meaning 13-14-15 etc. He's got both sets of 'memories' in his head which sometimes causes him problems. There's another thing I'm exploring in this story-the idea that you can't change everything. You'll know exactly what I'm talking about at the end of chapter one; and it's more fully explained at the beginning of chapter two. Some of this will be approached with humor-you'll see what I'm talking about when I get to the chapter that contains October 2nd, 1978-but the Big Major One-the one talked about in chapters one/two-isn't humorous at all. In fact, it's breathtakingly sad, and it lingers throughout the first 9/10 chapters or so. But that's the way it is. I've always said I write for myself, not for my readers, and that's mostly true. Don't get me wrong, it's extremely gratifying to please the readership and get all those great scores on SOL and the raving e-mails and the Clittie awards-I love every minute of it. I have an ego, like anyone else. And I do listen to my readers, especially when writing something long and involved like DoaL-I got suggestions, some of which I used. The basic storyline always stayed the same, but I didn't mind tweaking things or throwing in a 'scene' for a reader, if I felt it fit with the characters. (The three-way bondage scene were Jess and Warren both tie Sophie up was by request, for instance.) However, with Rewind, my "I write for myself" dictum is truer that it's ever been. I'll be thrilled if people like it-but, you know, with this one, I really won't care if you don't. This one is solely and purely for me. Naked High, which I'm hoping to do more-or-less simultaneously, though Rewind might have a 'head start', is probably going to be more 'fun' and crowd-pleasing. This one's personal-my own demons are running rampant through it. That having been said, I do hope you get something out of it. One other minor tidbit-all of the 'subtitles' to all of the chapters are song quotes. And all the quotes are from songs that were released before 10/3/77, Eddie's 'recycling' date. Why? Just felt like it, is all . And, actually, now, that's not completely true. One of the quotes in the first ten chapters is from a song that was released in 1979. I realized that after I'd assigned that quote-but it was so perfect that I couldn't bring myself to change it. Let's see who knows seventies rock well enough to pick it out . Thanks for reading, Frank ------- Chapter 1: Get Back To Where You Once Belonged OCTOBER 2nd, 2007 I sat in my bed, in my tiny apartment, wondering where it had all gone off track. I'd been doing that a lot lately. I was 42 years old, and I couldn't help but think they were 42 wasted years. It hadn't always been so. I was an academic prodigy. I blew it--I didn't even have a college degree. I had no social skills as a kid, and while things were better in adulthood, they weren't great. All I really had going for me was my brains--and I'd squandered them. I was, as I said, 42. Living by myself after my wife had left me for another woman. Working in retail, of all things. Management, yes, but retail. 1400 on my SAT's and I was a retail manager. As a kid, people had predicted great things for Ed Bovilas. They were wrong. I thought things were looking up when I got married. I was wrong. Things were fine at first, better than fine--I thought I had finally found a woman that could live with my complete lack of social skills. But things were never perfect. We couldn't have children. Our sex life was frequent and passionate, but there were problems. She found out what they were when she had a lesbian 'fling'--the problem was that I was a man. The breakup was amicable. And I'd had a couple flings myself since she left, so I did find out that I was a perfectly decent lover when I was with a woman who wasn't a closet lesbian, so that was good--but love seemed out of my reach. I mean, who would want me? 42, overweight, a smoker, I live in a hole, my job sucks... what did I have to offer? I lay there, thinking about all this, pretending to read, when I felt it. At first, I thought it was heartburn, something I get regularly. Then, I realized it might not be. The pain started on the left side of my chest, and traveled down my left arm. I started having trouble breathing. A heart attack? Well, what did I expect? I was in horrible shape. My diet sucked. I smoked two packs a day. I was a heart attack waiting to happen. I was still with it. I could call 911, get some help. Then I thought, what would be the point? I mean, who would miss me? My parents, maybe, but they're getting up there themselves. My brother? Yes, but he lived cross-country. My sister and I didn't get along. Maybe it would be better this way. Maybe it was time to go. I closed my eyes, and even as the pain increased, managed to drift off. Finally, the end of this miserable life. ------- OCTOBER 3rd I woke up. OK, so maybe it was just heartburn. I guess it wasn't my time after all. I opened my eyes, and looked around--and realized I wasn't in my room. Well, I was in my room, but it was my old room. My childhood bedroom--that drafty attic room at the old house on Hereford Street, in Cabot, Massachusetts. What the hell? I'd never believed in any sort of afterlife or anything like that. I didn't believe in God. I believed that when you were dead, you were dead. So what the hell was this? I looked around. It still looked like it did when I lived here, not how it does now. But there were no Beatles posters on the wall, those had been there since eighth grade. And the LP collection seemed a bit threadbare. I looked down--and JESUS!!! I was skinny! I'd only been skinny for a couple years in my life--the couple years immediately following my major puberty growth spurt. I had baby fat before then, and pudged out again after I 'caught up' to the extreme height change. This had to be a dream. Didn't it? I heard the door open down at the foot of the stairs leading from the third floor. "Eddie!" I heard. "Get up, you don't want to miss the bus to school!" "OK, Mom," I grumbled, almost automatically. School? Mom? Where the hell was I? Or, more accurately, when the hell was I? A part of my brain supplied the answer: October 3rd, 1977, a Monday. Jesus Christ, that was 30 years ago!!! I got up, stumbled over to the mirror in my room, and took a look. What looked back was me-when I was about 12. Yup, late '77, that's exactly what I'd be-12. This had to be a dream. It just had to. I tried slapping myself, pinching myself, anything to wake myself up. Didn't work. Fine, then--I'll just go back to sleep. When I wake up, everything will be fine. I drifted back to sleep... ... the alarm went off. "Eddie! Get up! Breakfast is almost ready!" Mom yelled up the stairs. Well, if this was a dream, I was still in it. I got up, found some clothes, and chucked 'em on. Gathered up my school books. 77, what grade was I in? Eighth, a part of my brain supplied. Eighth grade. Oh shit. I was beginning to realize something strange, as I did all these tasks that almost seemed automatic. It was almost like I had two sets of memories. The first one, the prominent one, was the memories of the life I had been living up until that day, the memories of my 42 years on earth. The other memories were in the background, ones that I could access almost like a database or something--the memories that this body must have. Stuff that I wouldn't be able to remember over 30 years' difference, like where I kept my clothes. What day it was. I sat and thought, and was able to remember my class schedule. Stuff like that. I sat in my bed for a while, thinking. And wanting a cigarette. This was all psychological, of course This body had never had a cigarette at 12 years old, so it wasn't a physical craving. I was just used to it. I was determined not to go looking for a cigarette, though. This body didn't smoke, and I aimed to keep it that way. I could deal with the psychological cravings. I hoped. I headed downstairs. Mom and Dad were there. I took one look at Dad, and realized that this was before he lost the eye. I didn't remember exactly when that had happened, but knew it was in eighth grade. Mom looked--well, young. She would've only been, what, 34? And I was looking at her with eyes that had been 42 since yesterday. No, not that way. I hadn't ever been one of those guys with a hard--on for my mother, and that hadn't changed. Nope, it was just her youth that smacked me upside the head. Dad, too--he was actually not gray. He'd been gray for as long as I could remember. I saw my brother, Declan, who'd be, what, 9? Yeah. And my sister Erin, who was six. Mom was spooning out bacon and eggs. That 'other memories' database seemed to keep me running on autopilot throughout breakfast. I instinctively knew how to act, what to say, what the current jokes were passing through the family. After breakfast, I trudged down to the bus stop to catch the bus to school. I instinctively remembered where that was, too. This was so weird. I mean, I kept asking myself--how can this be real? Quite honestly, if someone had decided to send me to hell, this might be a reasonable facsimile, plonking me down back at the beginning of eighth grade at Cabot East JHS. Now understand, grammar school--which had been grades one through six--had been no picnic. But junior high was when it really started to go downhill--and eighth grade was the worst. A lot of the shit I'd put myself through in my life, had started in eighth grade. A lot of it I couldn't even pick out distinctly in my memories--it was all just one big unhappy blur. As I stood there waiting for the bus, a lot of it came back to me. The loneliness. The isolation. The fear. Eighth grade was the year I went to school every day knowing I had about a fifty-fifty shot of getting the living daylights beaten out of me. I had few friends. Though I wasn't as small as I had been, due to that growth spurt the past summer, now I was skinny. I wasn't physical, I was uncoordinated. I also wrecked the curve in all my classes. I was a complete geek with absolutely no social skills. It had led to a whole lot of pain throughout my schooling, but eighth grade was the worst. I sat there on that bus, by myself, and it came back to me. I felt thirty years of despair creeping in. I remembered how horrific this year had been. And I was going to have to live it all over again? Whose idea of a sick joke was this? As I thought about it, I started to get angry--really angry. Angry at having been put in this position. Angry at these little shits that were going to torment me. I was a 42-year-old man, not a 12-year-old boy! Well now, I guess I was a little bit of both--but the 42-year-old man was bitter and resentful. I didn't get beat up that day, but I got pushed around a little bit. I also got taunted. But the pushing around really opened my eyes. I hadn't really realized it when I went through this for the first time, but I was very weak. I mean physically. I had really filled out in college, and didn't get pushed around any more after that. But here, back being 12, I was confronted with my weakness. You know, you can do something about that, the grown-up part of my brain supplied. It was right. I could. Thinking about it, I realized I could also do something to stave off the weight problems that were in my future. Hmmm, that would take some thought. Anyhow, I went through my classes, reminding me how bone-numbingly boring they were. They were boring the first time, and now I could teach most of them so you can imagine the boredom increased exponentially. Health class--which is where sex ed was taught--was just laughable. I mean, the things they tell kids about sex, no wonder kids are so screwed up. It was so damn clinical. After lunch--eaten alone--I got to English. Now, English in eighth grade was a decidedly mixed blessing. The bad part was the teacher, Mrs. Sinclair. She was the most incompetent excuse for a teacher I encountered throughout my entire school career. She was also a blatant sexist. Her idea of grading compositions was to give all the girls A's and all the boys C's. I went from my sixth grade teacher thinking my writing was good enough to be published; to this bitch giving me a C on it. If things held true to form, there was a run-in coming between her and me; futile, but satisfying. The good thing about the class was the students. Well, there was Christine Seneca, and that turned out to be not-so-good, but it started as good. Chris was smarter than I was, which immediately made me like her. We'd had a little romance--which, my 'current-life' memory told me had just ended. So I knew that now she was going to start trying to avoid me. But the month we spent together was fun. She was my first girlfriend. It never went anywhere, but I liked her. We were both insecure geeks, so it probably wasn't a good match, but I never forgot her. Also in that English class was Stan Murvetsin, a guy who was about to become one of my few friends. I think the time was right--Stan was about to do something for me that would change my life, and in a good way. And then there was Kara Pocharsky. Sigh. Kara Pocharsky. I'd known her since kindergarten, but it was in sixth grade that she became the object of my affection. I was infatuated with her from sixth to eighth grade. I asked her out twice in eighth grade. One, my memory told me, had just happened--she turned me down because she was going out with this guy named Don Nixon. The other one would happen later, and I'd get turned down just because. Of course, none of this stopped me from mooning over her. Damn, it all came back to me like that. After eighth grade, I never saw her again--I went to North Shore Prep, a local Catholic high school. Kara went to Andrews Academy, a ritzy boarding school that she got into on merit--Kara was a smart cookie herself. So, eighth grade would be the last time I'd spend any time with her. Damn, I had to relive all this! I made it through the school day relatively unscathed, and got on the bus to go home. Kara took that bus, too. Sitting with her was just not going to happen, of course, but I got to see her walk in with her friends. I got home knowing I had something to do--and then I saw the papers stacked on the porch. That's right, I had a paper route. So, I said hi to my mom, dumped my books, and headed back out. I was towards the end of my route, and realized that there was another person I was looking forward to seeing--Cyndi Gagnon. Cyndi and I had also known each other all through grammar school. If things went the way they went before, we were about to start dating--which was an exercise in frustration. Cyndi gave a whole new meaning to the word 'prude'. We're talking about a girl who swore she wasn't going to kiss a guy until she was sixteen! That was beyond the pale even in 1977. But I liked her, we dated for three months or so. I was allowed to hold her hand and put my arm around her but that was it--until I finally broke it up in sheer frustration. Cyndi was on my route, and she invited me in for a bit, as she often did. I was chatting with her. I had been considering not asking her out this time. But, chatting with her, I realized something--I really liked her, just as I had back then. And she really liked me. Of course, something I had always suspected back then was even more apparent this time. Her little sister Dina, who was a year younger, really liked me. Maybe I should change what Gagnon sister I asked out! Nah, that would just be opening up a whole new can of worms, wouldn't it? Anyhow, I left and headed off for the rest of my paper route, and then home. Did some homework before supper. Not that I had to do much--I got straight A's the first time around without cracking a book. I did that the first eight years of my schooling--something that later came back to haunt me. After that, I looked around the room. I checked out my record albums--ugh. This was when I was in my wimpy period. John Denver? The freakin' Partridge Family? The beginning of eighth grade was before I became a rock and roller. Damn, I needed some tunes. Of course, I realized with a laugh, a lot of stuff I liked to listen to hadn't been released yet! But a good deal of it had. I put on the radio, good ol' WBCN, before it went downhill in the late 80's. One of the first things I heard on it was Born To Run. There's an album to buy! I decided to read something. To my delight, I found this book--one of my favorites in my childhood--a large history of the National Hockey League. I hadn't seen it in years. It was a lot of fun to read it again. Then I went to sleep, wondering where--or, more accurately, when--I'd wake up ------- OCTOBER 6th, 1977 It was a Thursday, my fourth day 'back'. I think, by this time, it had sunk into me that this was real--or as real as reality gets, anyway--and I was stuck here. This day, the 6th, started out very interesting. I re-lived an episode that, at the time, had just been another bit in my long line of humiliations. It happened in Mechanical Drawing, a class I hated. I hated all those 'shop' classes-wood shop, metal shop, that crap. I would've much preferred to take Home Ec, but I would've been the first male ever at Cabot East JHS to take it. Since I was already getting teased and beaten for being a 'fag', that wouldn't have helped, so my parents convinced me to drop the idea. I just didn't conform to a lot of expectations for 'masculinity', and that was even more apparent in 1977, when the gender lines were drawn more rigidly. In my 'time', everybody, boys and girls, would take a little of everything--but not in 1977. Girls learned to cook and guys learned to build stuff, period. Forget the little fact that I'd much rather have learned how to cook (which my mother was teaching me, anyway). Anyhow, Roger Herren--a complete asshole who I'd have a run-in with later on in the year--decided to add to my humiliation. Grinning along with his chuckling buddies, he asked, "Hey, Ed. You ever have a woman's cunt over your face?" When this had happened the first time, I had absolutely no idea what a 'cunt' was, and despite my bluffing attempt, it was obvious. Just more ammunition for them. Of course, now, I knew better. "Nope," I said nonchalantly, "not yet, unfortunately." "What about when you were born?" he asked. I grinned. "Well, if you're going to count that. I don't quite remember it. And actually, that wouldn't quite be true--I was a C-section baby." "Ah, you don't even know what a cunt is," he accused, just as he had the first time around. "Sure I do," I said mildly. "Though that's not my favorite word for it. Pussy is better. Even cunny is better. Then again, there's honeypot..." They looked at me in amazement. "You ever see one?" Roger asked. I laughed. "Not unless you're counting my Dad's Playboy collection." They laughed at that. One thing I'd learned in adulthood is that self-depreciating humor, delivered right, always got people to accept you better. "Well," one of Roger's acolytes said, "I heard you were taking Cyndi Gagnon to the dance tomorrow." I nodded. "Maybe she'll show you." I laughed. "Boy, you don't know Cyndi very well, do you? Nope, Cyndi's a Good Girl. If I get a good-night peck on the cheek, I'll consider it a major victory." "You might get lucky," Roger said. "There's a difference between lucky and miraculous," I grinned, walking away to them laughing--with me, not at me. Jesus, what a difference. That's when I first had a glimmer--maybe I could change some things. Maybe I was being given a second chance. And then there was Cyndi. I had decided to ask her out again. I had seen her yesterday, and asked her to the dance tomorrow, Friday night. She had happily said yes. Just like it happened before. I knew I was about to get the 'no kissing' lecture. I wondered what I'd do about that. At lunch that day, I ate with Stan Murvetsin. He invited me to his house after school. The day I remembered. This day I'd happily revisit. Afterwards, later that afternoon, I got an unwelcome reminder of my status. I got punched. One of the school bullies whacked me in the chest. In analyzing what had happened afterwards, I was able to see things that I didn't see the first time around. I saw him coming, knew who it was, and cowered. It was like waving a red flag in front of a bull. That's when I discovered the biggest problem I'd had in those days--I was scared. Of everything. Now, I knew at least part of that was how I'd been treated by my so-called peers. Some of the fear was because I had good reason to be scared. But, that was a vicious circle. They fed off my fear. And it wasn't just fear of being beaten--it was fear of everything. The one single area of my life I had any confidence in was academics. One thing I realized about that incident with the bully punching me is that I reacted like my 12-year-old self. My memories were of the 42-year-old man, and I had experiences I could draw on, but my first instinct was as a 12-year-old. But, like I said, I did know better, not actually being 12 years old. If I had to relive this hell, it was time to make a few changes. Not this afternoon, though. Stan had invited me over, and this day, I wanted to re-live. I was able to do it since it was Thursday and I didn't have a paper route to do. The Cabot Gazette, the paper I delivered, only published three days a week-Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. So, today being Thursday, I was available to head over to Stan's. Y'see, this was the day that Stan was going to introduce me to his favorite musical group-The Beatles. It was a day that was etched on my memory with perfect clarity. Discovering the Beatles, courtesy of Stan, changed my life. Music ended up being the only good thing--certainly, the only good constant--that I had. The Beatles started it all, and Stan did that. Because of what happened on this day, I started playing guitar, singing, writing songs. I never did anything with it, but it was a constant source of solace. And The Beatles led me to all sorts of other things. When I 'came back', my CD collection filled a rack that took up an entire wall of my bedroom. And that doesn't count the MP3s I had on my computer. Shit, I missed computers. For that matter, I missed CDs. Anyhow, I went over Stan's and just let it happen--all over again. I didn't try to remember it, I tried to experience it for a second time. It was great. When I heard that guitar intro to Ticket To Ride, the hair on the back of my neck stood up on end--just like the first time. While I had been thinking of things to change this go-round; this was when I realized that there were at least some things I did not want to change. It occurred to me that this might be my biggest balancing act--telling one from the other. ------- OCTOBER 7th, 1977 My first date to a school dance. I'd had a pretty decent memory of Cyndi, and it was pretty accurate. Cyndi was as much of a geek as I was, but in a cute sort of way. She had curly dark blonde hair. She was quite skinny, still built more like a boy than a girl, though the curves had started some. She had little beginnings of breasts, and the slight swelling of hips. It was her personality I had been attracted to, and still was. She was a nice counterbalance for me--I was manic, fearful, your basic spaz. Cyndi was calmer, sweet, a steadying influence. She saw things in me that I didn't quite see at that time, I realized that afterwards. It was a very sweet twelve-year-old romance that didn't work out in the end because of a lot of things, but her fear to let me get close was the big one. Anyhow, we went to the dance. This was a Big Step for both of us, and we both knew it--hell, I knew it the first time. I wasn't much of a dancer even in adulthood, but I was better than I had been at 12. And now, 12 again, I drew on some of that knowledge. I think Cyndi was surprised that I was, at least, competent. Sitting in chairs on the sideline, I put my arm around her. She stiffened. "Is this OK?" she said. "Yes, but... well, we'll talk later." This was a definite re-run. As was the talk we had later, outside, waiting to get picked up. "I like you," she said, "and I think we should, you know, be boyfriend and girlfriend. And you can put your arm around me and hold my hand. But I don't think we should kiss until we're sixteen." Ah, yes, déjà vu all over again. I could've almost recited that speech thirty years down the road, and I here I was, reliving it. No wonder I spent my entire adolescence not ever getting laid, I couldn't even get kissed. The first time around, I took it meekly. This time, the adult part of me decided to challenge it a bit. Cyndi had turned 13 over the summer, I knew that. So, I said, "Sixteen? Cyndi, if I have to wait three years to get a kiss from you, I won't be around to get it." She looked strangely at me--she wasn't happy. "Well, maybe we should call this off right now," she said. "Maybe we should," I agreed easily. That shocked her. "I thought you liked me!" she said. "I do. A lot. But I don't like setting limits, especially limits that sound a bit out of it to me." "I don't want to move too fast!" she said. "Neither do I. But waiting three years for a kiss isn't slow, it's glacial." "If you liked me, you'd wait." "And I will," I told her. "I just can't tell you how long I'll wait. I can predict with some confidence that three years isn't it." "But what if I don't want to?" "Then you'll have a decision to make. I'll never force you, you know that." "I don't know anything anymore!" she gasped. "This isn't the discussion I expected to have," she admitted. "You expected me to roll over like a puppy," I said with a wry grin. She looked at me, shocked. "You expected Eddie Bovilas, the well-known nerd outcast, to accept any conditions you came up with, because I'd be so grateful just to have a girlfriend." I'd guessed that a long time ago. The expression on her face told me I was right. She tried to get out of it, though. "Eddie, it's not like that..." "It seems like it to me, bringing this up on our first date, and setting limits." "I thought you'd understand," she said. "Well, I'd understand if you told me you didn't want to have sex until you were sixteen. But kissing?" "SEX!" she gasped. "I'm not doing that until my wedding night!" "Well, then we're going to break up sooner or later anyway, so we might as well stop now. My mom will take you home, I'll tell you I had a good time--which I did--and that'll be the end of it." All right. I know. It wasn't nice, or fair, or good. That was the 'experienced' guy talking--I barely even thought about sex at that age, the first time around. Kissing, I thought of, yeah. I spent most of the relationship with Cyndi wanting to kiss her. But sex? Wasn't thinking of it, I'd barely entered puberty. It was way out of character for me at 12 to be having this conversation. Poor Cyndi was shocked. I shouldn't have done it, I know that. "I thought you were Catholic," she gasped. Cyndi was Baptist, which was worse! "I'm Catholic because my mother forces me to go to church." Which was the truth, but something I wouldn't have admitted--even to myself--back then the first time around. "I don't believe in it." "So you want to have sex with me?" she gasped. "Eventually. Some day. If we're still together. Not right now," I grinned. "That I will admit I'm not any more ready for than you are. But, I'll tell you something. Remember, I want to be a doctor. That's high school, and college, and med school. That's a long time. If you think I'm waiting until my wedding night--when I won't even think about marriage until after med school--you're dreaming." "Oh." "Kissing, I'll admit, I'm thinking about right now," I grinned. She blushed bright red! "What do you want from me?" she squeaked. "No limitations. No deadlines. No dates. Go with the flow. If it feels right, we'll do it. If it doesn't, we won't." "My deadlines, as you call them, are a way for me to keep control," she said tightly. "I know, and I reject that," I told her. "Because you're trying to control both of us." "I have to think about this," she said. "Take all the time you need." We sat there in silence for a while, waiting for our ride. One thing I noticed, though, is that when I put my arm around her--she didn't stiffen up. Which she did do the first time, and had been doing all night this time. It's almost like my surprising diatribe relaxed her. Hmmm. Who woulda thunk it? ------- OCTOBER 11th, 1977 A Monday, one week after my 'recycling'. I'd thought all weekend about what I had said to Cyndi. I determined one thing for sure--I owed her an apology. I went too far, and I knew it. The other thing I'd thought about all weekend is just exactly what I was doing. Because my brain was getting away from me. It was almost like I was a split personality. I'd determined I mostly acted like a 12 year old boy. I thought, quite a bit, like a 12 year old boy. I was naturally attracted to Cyndi, who was 13. If I was thinking like the 42-year-old that part of me was, I would've been slightly disgusted by that--I was no pedophile. I thought about that quite a bit over the weekend. I was at the mall, and checking out women 'my own age'. You know, 42, the age I really was--and even younger--late twenties to early thirties--and I felt nothing. Wasn't attracted to them at all, even though that's the age range I was attracted to before I got 'sent back'. My last liaison in my old life was with a 33 year old, and she was something else. Now, after being 'sent back' and living in a 12-year-old body, women that age had no appeal to me whatsoever. Even my mother, 8 years younger than I really was, seemed so impossibly old to me. I was, basically, 12. But I had the memories of 42 years on earth, and that was the 'line', so to speak, I was living in. One week and one day ago, I was 42. Then I woke up 12. It was like I regressed, but those 42 years of memory were still my memories, and experiences. And those memories and experiences--well, in my conversation with Cyndi on Friday night, they had popped out like the monster under the bed. I needed a way to harness this. Look, I wasn't a typical 12 year old, I know that. That was impossible, with my experiences. But I certainly wasn't 42 any more. The way I reacted with Cyndi was as a man with a wealth of sexual experiences and a 10-year marriage under his belt--but with the self control of a 12 year old. That was damn dangerous. What I needed to do was be 12--but use those experience and memories for me. Despite the rut I had fallen into before I got sent back, I was, in most ways, a far better person at 42 than I was a 12. I was rather charming, witty, eloquent, and good company. I wasn't the stuttering, stammering geek afraid of his own shadow that I had been. I needed to be what I was, a 12 year old boy, and draw on that, use it for me, not against me. I started looking on this as a chance to change. There were things I could do, right now--but things I could do to prepare for the future, too. On Saturday, I had asked my dad about the possibility of purchasing a weight set. He was shocked that his lazy, bookworm son wanted to lift weights--but he was all for the idea. We went right out and found one. I was going to lift weights and I was going to start running. That should stave off the inevitable creeping flab that would start some time in high school. I needed to learn how to study, so I didn't wash out of college again. And, OK, yeah. I admit it--I had no intention of being a virgin until I was 22, like I did the first go-round. But the way to do that, I'd decided, was to make myself more attractive. And, shit, I was only twelve--I had plenty of time. I should be setting ground work, not scaring poor Cyndi to death with my 42-year-old memories combined with my 12-year-old raging hormones. Like I said, this was all very, very confusing. I didn't see Cyndi in school that day--that wasn't unusual, we had no classes together that year. I knew I'd be stopping in while I was doing my paper route. As it turned out, I didn't have to--she was sitting on her front steps, waiting for me. "Hi," she said as she saw me approach. "Hi. I'm glad you're here. We have to talk." It was a pretty nice day for mid-October, so we just took a seat on her steps. "First of all, I owe you an apology," I told her. "I was out of line Friday night." "Funny, I was going to say the same thing to you," she said quietly. "Huh? Why on earth?" "Because you were right. I did think you'd just roll over. That was wrong." "Ah. OK, but I shouldn't have talked to you like I did. I didn't mean to scare you," I said. "You didn't," she said with a little smile. "Look, I still want to go out with you. I don't want to kiss you. Today. We'll see if that changes." "Fair enough. I won't force or coerce you, but I'm going to try to change your mind." "Fair enough," she grinned. "Hugging's perfectly fine, you know." So I took her in my arms and hugged her. The 12 year old part of me thought that this was just fine! Amazing. She didn't act at all like I thought she was going to. "You surprised me," she said after we broke the hug. "I'm trying to make some changes," I told her, truthfully. "I'll try not to take them out on you anymore, though." "I'm glad. About both of that," she grinned. ------- OCTOBER 23rd, 1977 The next couple of weeks went fine. I was still sort of experimenting with how I reacted to things. Just little subtle changes. But I was trying to gradually change my attitude. I'd noticed a few situations where I didn't react the way I would have the first time around. And I tried to walk around with more confidence. It seemed to be working, somewhat. I hadn't gotten beaten up, and that was a thrice-weekly occurrence the first time around. I'm sure a challenge or two was coming, still, but I was trying to get myself in a better place to deal with it. I'd realized something. I was reading, in the Boston Globe, a recap of the Red Sox season, and a preview for 1978. That's when it hit me, I was going to have to relive that season! Jesus. That's when all the things I was going to have to relive came rushing back. Shit. I was going to have to relive Bucky Bleepin' Dent! Bill Buckner! The Reagan Presidency! THE MONKEES REUNION!!! Jesus, maybe I was in hell. Of course, I'd get some good stuff to relive, too. Hmmm. That's when I got a thought. I could make money off this!! Hey, I knew what stocks were going to do well, right? I could keep my eyes open. Of course, I'd need money to buy them. And if things went the way they did the first time, my family was about to head for financial disaster. I'd have to figure out a way to do something about that, too. Anyhow--besides stocks, there were sporting events, right? My dad knew enough bookies. I'd bet I could make a pretty penny on some stuff that I knew about. Anyhow, I'd been doing OK. I found the guitar that my aunt had bought me a few years back, a nice acoustic. This was about the time I'd started playing the first time around. I 'caught on' much faster this time, though--no big surprise, since I'd been playing for thirty years! I'd also gotten right to work on the weightlifting and running. My parents were mighty impressed. Even after a few weeks, I'd already seen a difference. This day, a Saturday, was a running day. I alternated. I went for a couple miles in a loop, heading through the neighborhoods of the east end of Cabot. I was heading through Morris Park, a neighborhood about a half mile from my house. A lot of kids I knew lived in Morris Park. One of them was Kara Pocharsky. I didn't run down her street, Lee Rd., but I ran down the adjacent street, Williams Rd. One of her best friends, Kelly Cullinane, lived there. I'd known Kelly--and her twin brother, Patrick--since first grade. Kelly was actually my first 'crush', back in third and fourth grade. I still liked her, though Kara had replaced her in my affections. Then again, Cyndi had replaced both of them--but I didn't know how long that was going to last. And the torch I was carrying for Kara wasn't going to go away that easily. Of course, Kara was going out with Don Nixon, but I knew that wasn't going to last, either. As I ran up Williams Rd., there they were, Kara and Kelly, coming down the street. "Eddie?" Kara said as I ran towards them. Be cool, I said to myself. You know better. Don't turn into the stammering, scared geek. "Hi girls." I came to a stop by them. "You've taken up running?" Kelly said. "Yeah. And lifting weights. I'm sick of not being in shape," I told them. "Good for you!" Kara said with genuine enthusiasm. "Thanks," I smiled. "I just started. I alternate running and lifting." "You're not fat, though," Kelly said. "Remember what I looked like last year, or in sixth grade?" I laughed. "I was pretty pudgy. I just had a growth spurt this past year. When everything catches up--well, pudgy runs in my family. I'm trying to stave it off." "Good plan," Kara agreed. "Plus, the weightlifting--well, I'm sick of being the school punching bag," I admitted. "Yeah," Kara agreed, with what seemed like sympathy. "I hope I don't get fat, because I can't do much of anything right now, not with this thing on," Kelly said disgustedly, pointing at the large brace on her back. Kelly had a bad case of scoliosis, and they'd put her in the brace. "Just don't eat," I laughed. "How long you in that thing, anyway?" "Six months to a year." "Which sucks," I said, "but at least you're avoiding the fate of Quasimodo, right?" They both laughed at that. "Anyhow, back to the running. See you later, ladies." "Bye, Eddie," Kara said. I trotted off, and I heard Kara say, "Damn, I think that's the first time Ed Bovilas ever talked to me without blushing and stuttering!" I grinned to myself as I ran up the street. Score one for me! ------- NOVEMBER 3rd, 1977 I'd been 'back' exactly a month and things had gone fairly well. I was still setting some groundwork, but I was making headway. I'd realized that this wasn't a dream, and I wasn't going to wake up and be 42 again. This was my life now, and I had to deal with that. One thing I was struggling with was how much to change. I really didn't want this life to go like the last one, and I thought I could do a lot to stave that off. I was trying to figure out exactly what. Even after only a few weeks, the running and weightlifting was showing results. I just felt better. I hadn't had a chance to test it--I hadn't really been beaten on lately--and I was hoping to get a little stronger before I tested it anyhow. Otherwise, things were going well. I'd already amazed my parents with my 'quick' acquisition of some guitar prowess. I'd taken my paper route money and upgraded the record collection a bit--as well as the wardrobe. I'd never be gorgeous, but I could dress better. I also got a new pair of glasses. I couldn't get contacts--contacts for people with astigmatism hadn't been invented yet--but I could get glasses that weren't so damn geeky. I needed an eye checkup anyhow, so, when I got a new prescription, I picked more flattering frames. And it was noticed--even by Kara. "Hey, those are nice," she said to me in English. Just a little thing like that! Boy, I had been so hopeless the first time around. Cyndi and I had gone out a few times. Things were different. We still hadn't kissed, but, in other ways, she was far looser. When I put my arm around her, she'd snuggle in and put her head on my shoulder. That did not happen the first time around. She was more relaxed. I think a lot of that was that I was more relaxed. I wasn't the nervous geek I was the first time. We had an easy, fun relationship so far. The only problem was that she shied away from holding hands or anything at school. She was still uneasy about that stuff. There wasn't any kind of no-PDA rule at Cabot East JHS--believe me, there wasn't. You'd see people making out between classes. But Cyndi wasn't ready for anything like that. I could live with it. I just decided to go with the flow. I didn't think Cyndi was the love of my life or anything like that, even in hindsight, but I had fun with her. I'd taken the entrance exam to North Shore Prep the previous Saturday. That was another thing I had to think about. I'm not sure I wanted to do the Prep on this go-round. That surprised even me, and I had to think about it harder, but I just had the feeling that it might be a mistake. I was starting to feel good about all this. I felt like I was in control. It really was feeling like a second chance, that I could do good, that I could fix all the problems that had plagued me all of my life. Of course, I was wrong--because I forgot. I fucking forgot, God help me. November third was a Wednesday. I sat in the lunchroom eating lunch, with Stan Murvetsin and some of his friends, when I felt a hand on my shoulder. I looked up, and it was Beth Trovini, my very best friend since I was born. "Beffy!" I said, calling her by my nickname for her--that's as close as I could get when we were toddlers, and it stuck. "Hi, Eddie!" Why hadn't I seen her? I'd been back a month, where had she been? Then, my brain supplied the answer. "You're back? Out of the hospital?" I asked. "Yup! Chemo's over and I'm in remission. Cross your fingers," she said, smiling, as she walked away. That's when the roof fell in on my head. I had forgotten. SHIT! I hastily made an excuse about having to go to the bathroom to Stan and the gang, and took off. I did go into the bathroom, but only to be alone. Luckily, there was nobody there. I went into a stall, and felt the tears start almost immediately. Beth Trovini. Oh my God. I had forgotten. I was going to have to watch my best friend die all over again. ------- Chapter 2: Wash Away My Troubles, Wash Away My Pain NOVEMBER 4th, 1977 The next day, I was still reeling. Beth, you see, had leukemia. She was going to die. I'd lived through it once before, and did not handle it well at all. Now I was going to live through it again. I didn't see any way to change it. I didn't have a cure for leukemia in my back pocket--it still hadn't been cured in my 'time'. There were better treatments--bone marrow transplants and all that--but there were two problems with that. First of all, how would a 12 year old kid get away with suggesting, to an oncologist, a treatment that hadn't been invented yet? And, second of all, Beth had one of the more virulent forms of leukemia. Even in 2007, bone marrow transplants didn't always work. And I'd started to get excited. I'd started to think I'd been 'sent back' to change things, fix my life, make things better. Some things can't be changed. No matter what you do. Beth was going to die again, and I was going to have to live through it again. At that moment, if whoever it was that was responsible for me going back had shown up in my room, I'd have strangled him Yeah, of course, a glimmer of hope. Maybe this wasn't the same 'universe' or time-track or whatever you call it, yadda yadda--but I didn't think so. Too much had happened that was just predictable. It seemed that I could change things that I was directly involved in--the conversation about female body parts, or my conversation with Cyndi about kissing--but I had no cure for leukemia handy. I took this day, November 4th, off from school, pleading illness. Since I hardly ever missed school, Mom let me get away with it. I stayed in my room all day, listening to my new Beatles and Bruce Springsteen albums, thinking. This was one of the things I'd thought about anyhow--trying to figure out the difference between what I could change and what I couldn't. Beth's illness made me more aware of that. She was going to die. Period. Couldn't be changed. Christ, I even knew the date. What I could change is how I dealt with it. One thing you have to understand--Beth knew. She was strong-willed, and smart, and not the type of person who would sit well with platitudes. She knew exactly what was wrong with her. She demanded to be told, and she knew what the prognosis was for this strain of leukemia--95% fatality rate within 5 years. 75% within two years. 50% within one. It was a death sentence, and she knew it. Which explains how she acted. I saw her off and on in eighth grade. I went to the Prep for ninth, didn't see her as much. But then, we had a Christmas semi-formal dance at the Prep, and I took her. We had a great time. I saw her a couple weeks later, when we went to the mall to do some Christmas shopping. Then--nothing. I'd call, and she'd hang up with some excuse. I'd leave a message and she wouldn't call back. Look, in adulthood, I realized what had happened. She, knowing the end was coming, was trying to distance herself from me. She was either getting too close, or figured that I was getting too close. She, I think, was trying to save me pain. It didn't work--because I did not see or talk to her for the last 8 months of her life. That has haunted me forever. I didn't say goodbye. I never told her I loved her. It wasn't her fault--I let it happen. I was a stupid kid. I don't think the true meaning of her prognosis really sunk in to me until she was dead. Speaking of things I could damn well change--hadn't I just hit on one? Yes, I had. Damn right I had. No doubt about it. Knowing that, well--it didn't make everything better. How could it? But it made things clearer to me. I loved Beth. Not romantically--we were both too young when she was diagnosed to even start to think about that--but I loved her. I'd say as a sister, but I loved her more than I loved my sister, horrible as that might be to admit! And it had haunted me for almost 30 years that I never told her that. You can say, "Oh, she knew," but I've never been sure. Knowing I could change that, at least, helped enormously. But, it was strange--I was looking for other things to change. I guess I wanted to balance the scales. I found one--well, one I could try, anyhow. That night, after supper, I was sitting with my Dad. He asked me if I was feeling better and I told him I was. Which I was, a little, though it was all mental. Then I gave him a hint. "Hey, Dad, while I was napping I had this really strange dream." "Really?" Dad said. "Yeah, and I'd better tell you about it, just in case I'm clairvoyant." "OK," he laughed. "Well, it was kind of murky, but the message I got from it was--eye protection." "Eye protection?" he asked. "Yeah. Basically, if you even have a glimmer of a thought that you might need eye protection, get some. Don't take a chance. Hey, I told you it was a dream." "Yeah. Eye protection, huh?" "Yeah. You lost an eye in the dream. Not sure how, but it was in a situation where you might have shrugged off eye protection." "OK," he said, "I'll keep that in mind." Good. There you go. When it came true, he might think I was nuts or something, but I didn't really plan on making a habit of this, so, if it was only one clairvoyant dream... Of course, it was no dream. What had happened was, he was in Chuck's Bar, one of his favorite taverns, getting a cold one after work. At Chuck's--and he'd taken me in there many times--they had these strange floor mats. They were rubber, but surrounding them on the outside was a thin strip of metal. On the day in question, one of the metal strips had come loose and was sticking up in the air. Chuck, the owner, a friend of Dad's, said to Dad, "Hey, Jimmy, can you go get your wire cutters and cut that thing? The waitresses keep tripping on it." Dad was a plumber, and had all sorts of those tools in his truck. He got his wire cutters--didn't get his goggles. You can figure the rest. He cut that piece of metal and it sprung straight up. He had nine operations trying to re-attach his retina. They didn't work. After that, he rushed back to work--and quickly developed degenerative arthritis and had to have both hips replaced. There was no proof that the rushing back to work--and 14 hour days-- after two years of idleness had caused the hip problems, but all the doctors thought so. Dad was self-employed, and had just decided to do that, so there was no 'business' yet. That series of medical events meant financial disaster for the family. Mom was only working part-time at the time. We even ended up on welfare for a while. Dad was basically out of work for four years. If I had just prevented that, I'd be a happy camper. I just hope Dad remembered when the time came. I knew it was sometime in eighth grade that this happened, but couldn't remember exactly when. ------- NOVEMBER 6th, 1977 Another Saturday, and I was running. Besides keeping me in shape, I found running good for thinking. I just wish the Walkman had been invented! On this particular Saturday I had pushed myself. It was a good day for running, just about 50 degrees--cool, not too hot, but not frigid, either. I'd gone longer than usual and when I wound my way through Morris Park, I was winded. I came down the hill on Williams Road, basically walking. I'd overdone it a wee bit. "Hey, it's Running Man! But he's walking!" I looked over, and on Kelly Cullinane's porch sat Kelly and Kara, chatting. Kelly was the one who had called. "Yeah, hi girls. I over did it a wee bit today." "Sit," Kara said, grinning, pointing to the steps next to her. "Rest a bit." "I guess I should," I grinned, and sat next to her. "Hold on," Kelly said, and ran into her house. She came right back out with a glass of lemonade. "Kelly, you're a doll," I grinned, and happily accepted it. "We've been talking, Kelly and I, about you," Kara said. "Oh, really," I replied with a grin--something I never would've been capable of the first time around. "Yes, really," Kara grinned back. "You've changed. A lot. In like the last month." "I'm trying to," I admitted. "I haven't been happy." "Is it better?" Kelly asked. "Some. Some things can't be changed, though." "Yeah," Kara said, somewhat sadly. "Hey, I've been meaning to ask you. I've seen you talking to Beth Trovini, so obviously you know her," Kelly asked. "Is she sick?" Damn, I'd been feeling better for a minute there. "Yes, she's sick." Beth wasn't keeping it a secret, she'd told me that. "Beth has leukemia." "Oh," Kelly said. "Is she going to..." "Most likely," I replied. "The prognosis isn't good at all." "Oh, damn. I was right that you know her?" Kelly asked. I took a deep breath. "You girls have known me for a long time. You know the list of people I consider friends is very short. Beth's at the top of it. I've known her since I was born. She's like a sister." "Oh, damn, Eddie," Kara said, lightly laying a hand on my shoulder. "I'm so sorry." My mind was whirling. Kara was being so nice to me! And that's when I had another revelation--she always had been. For all the years I'd known her, she was one of the nicest, sweetest girls in school, especially to me. She'd never treated me like the outcast that I usually was. Until I made the mistake of falling for her, and acting like a complete brain-dead lovesick idiot around her. Only, now, I wasn't. And she was back to being her sweet self. "Thanks," I said, "to both of you. It means a lot." I stood up, and forced a smile. "Back to running. Thanks for the lemonade, Kelly, it really hit the spot." "Anytime," she grinned. I took off. ------- DECEMBER 12th, 1977 I was adjusting, more and more, to my situation. I'd been back for over two months, and, except for the Beth dilemma, I found myself able to adjust to things better and better. However, one of the 'events' I had been waiting for happened last week. Roger Herren, the guy from the 'cunt' discussion, was involved. It was in metal shop. He was sitting behind me. He thought it would be fun to take a strip of metal, heat it up with his lighter, and then grab my hand and slap the hot metal on my hand. Giving me second-degree burns on my hand. This was just the way I was treated the first time around. And it had happened again this time. Roger Herren's an asshole in any timeline I guess. What had happened next, in both times, is that, juiced with adrenaline from the pain, I had gotten out of my seat and wailed on him. First fight I ever won in my life. The last time around I'd talked about it too much. People would ask and I'd say, "Yeah, I kicked the shit out of him." Of course, that got back to Roger and he got his revenge. Without that shot of adrenaline, I was no match for him--he was bigger than I was. I'd evened the scales some with the weightlifting, but he was still bigger than I was. I was hoping to avoid the revenge beating this time around. And no, nothing happened to him--no suspensions, no nothing. The administration of Cabot East were a bunch of spineless assholes, in either timeline. This time, I didn't talk. Anyone asked me about it, I just waved it off. But that didn't seem to change things. Roger, I had heard, still wanted his revenge. He got his opportunity, just like last time, in gym--we were all waiting in a 'side gym', I forget what for. So, there were no teachers and an audience, just what Roger wanted. Anyhow, I'd been warned this was the time and place. Now, I knew I still wasn't much of a fighter. But all that running and weightlifting over the past two months had definitely made a change--I was stronger, and in better shape. I thought I could hold my own. Plus, one thing I'd learned, was that assholes like Roger smelled fear. As I said, first time around, I was a walking bundle of fear. This time I wasn't. I didn't wait for him. I walked right over to him. "Hey, Roger, I hear you want another go-round." He looked at me. "I hear you plan to beat the shit out of me today, for 'revenge.' You know, I think fucking second-degree burns on my hand would be enough for you, but if you want to go again, we can go again." He stood up--reluctantly, it seemed to me. "I have to keep my rep," he said. "As what? The school asshole?" I snorted. "Better than being the school wimp," he spat at me. I glared at him. "If you think I'm still the school wimp, then this might be a very interesting exercise." I glared right into his eyes. No fucking fear, not this time. I could take him, I convinced myself. Well, as it turned out--not quite. But I held my own. It was, more or less, a draw. He got a few good licks in, but I did too, until a couple of the gym teachers came in and broke it up. Of course, I got sent to the unit director--in my case, Mr. Legerre, a complete asshole who blamed me for getting beat up. He started in on me for this one, and I said, "So, tell me--why don't students that give other students second-degree burns get suspended? Maybe if you'd clamp down on some of this shit, I wouldn't have to keep constantly defending myself." Legerre sputtered and fumed--but, hell, I hadn't been scared of that slimeball the first time around. ------- DECEMBER 17th, 1977 It was a Saturday, and I was spending it with Cyndi. We were at her house. Her mother was home, but we were allowed to be in her bedroom. Her mother trusted us. Of course, her mother wasn't more than 20 feet away either, even if she was in another room! Cyndi's mom also liked me, a lot. We'd been getting along just fine. I hadn't really pushed the kissing issue. I had, however, made jokes about it. I had another one planned. It was a week before Christmas, right? So, I had a good one planned. We were sitting side-by-side on her bed--really, the only place to sit in that room were her and Dina's beds--just chatting. During a lull in the conversation, I reached into my pocket. "Look what I've got!" I said, dangling it over my head. "Mistletoe! You know what you're supposed to do under the mistletoe, right?" I grinned at her. She cracked up laughing. "You are such a brat," she said. "Ah, come on, you're no fun," I said, still grinning, as I dangled the mistletoe over her head. "No," she said, though she was still laughing. "How about a compromise?" I said. She looked at me. "Your cheek. Let me kiss your cheek." "Well, I suppose that would be OK," she said, and turned her head, giving me access to her cheek. OK, so I'm a devious blankety-blank. I kissed her cheek, very softly, very slowly. But I didn't stop there. "Hmmm. Would this be considered close enough to a cheek?" I asked--and then, very lightly, kissed her neck. She hissed out a breath, but didn't say anything. "And this is part of the cheek, isn't it?" I said, and then gave one little soft nibble on her earlobe. That was accompanied by a loud gasp on her part. After that, I backed away. We chatted for a while after that, but she was distracted. The look in her eyes was unfathomable. However, the chat was interesting--I did remember this from the first time. It was the 'fag' thing. That was the rumor in eighth grade--that I was gay. I got called 'fag' more often than I care to remember. I'd gotten picked on less this time than the first time--but it hadn't disappeared completely, and the 'Ed's gay' thing was still around. Now, yeah, I know the Seinfeld line: "Not that there's anything wrong with that." And in theory, I agree. In practice? Well, I don't care what anybody says, being thought of as gay? In eighth grade? In 1977? It sucked. I do have empathy for people who really are gay who had to go through this crap. But it was not a whole lot of fucking fun. It got me beat up, and it got me taunted. Tolerance is a wonderful thing--but when the rest of the world doesn't have any, it's hard to find. And, I'm sorry, but the fact that I wasn't gay didn't help. Being called 'gay' shouldn't be a slander, something to be ashamed of, I know that--but tell that to my eighth grade classmates. One of the more painful incidents was the one I was reliving--Cyndi, my freakin' girlfriend, asking me, "Ed--are you gay?" I replied pretty much as I had the last time. "Oh, yes, Cyndi, that must be it. Sure. Last time I checked, you were a girl--and I'm doing my damndest to get you to let me kiss you. Yup, I must be gay." "I'm sorry," she said, "but I hear it so often..." I'll admit, I was more upset about it than I was the first time. "You believe everything you hear? Cyndi, I'm a fucking punching bag. This is just one more weapon for those assholes to get me. And my girlfriend is asking me if it's true!" "I really am sorry," she said in a small voice. "OK, you're forgiven." I wonder if that's what prompted what happened next. It might have been part of it, but I think the neck-and-earlobe nibbling was most of it. Anyway, when it was time to go, she walked me out her front door. She lived on the second floor, and there was a landing there. We walked out onto the landing, and, before I could head down the stairs, she said, "Where's that mistletoe?" "Right here," I dug it out of my pocket and, grinning, placed it over my head. She grabbed my shoulders, leaned in, and kissed me. On the lips, I mean. My very first kiss--well, in this body, anyhow. It was closed-mouth--but it wasn't quick. It, frankly, had me reeling--and I could see in her eyes that she was too. She pulled away, her eyes hooded, and whispered, "Merry Christmas." Then she disappeared through the door. Hot damn! ------- JANUARY 13th, 1978 It's funny. A week that ended with the dreaded Friday the Thirteenth ended up being the week that changed my life. Even I didn't know the extent of it until later, but this week set it all up. The other funny thing is that it didn't start out that way. On that Monday, Cyndi dumped me. This was right around the time I had dumped her the first time around. I didn't really have any intentions of dumping her this time--but she did it for me. We'd kissed a few times since that first one. And, frankly, I really was happy with that, for the time being. I figured we had plenty of time for anything else--and, having gotten past the kissing barrier was satisfying to me. Unfortunately, it spooked Cyndi. We were "moving too fast" so she wanted to "cool things down." I was disappointed, but not devastated. Especially since, on Tuesday, things really started looking up. It started right in the morning. I got up and Dad was there. "Hey, Ed, you'll never believe what happened." "What, Dad?" He told me--the Eye. It happened exactly as it had happened the first time, except--when he went out to get his wire cutters, he remembered my 'dream' and grabbed his goggles. "I couldn't believe it," he told me, "that wire came right up into my face. If I hadn't had the goggles on, it would've gone right through my eye." "Wow," I said, in mock-surprise. "Maybe my dreams are clairvoyant," I kidded. "Good. If you have any dreams about the Super Bowl, let me know," he laughed. "Dallas and Denver," I said, having had watched the championship games. I combed my memory. "Bet on the Cowboys." "OK," he laughed. I got to school, and heard some scuttlebutt--evidently, I wasn't the only person who got dumped. Kara had broken up with Don Nixon. Well, hmmmm--wasn't that interesting! I got through the morning, then went to English. English was the class right after lunch. I hadn't really thought about it, but that English class was stocked with talent. Cabot East JHS didn't track--except in math, I was taking algebra because I had passed a test to do so--but somehow, our English class had the kids ranked one through four in the eighth grade class. My erstwhile first girlfriend Christine Seneca was first. Kara was fourth. I was second. Third was a girl named Michelle Pepper. Michelle was probably the 'catch' of the eighth grade class. Not only was she brilliant, she was gorgeous, including being one of those girls that 'sprouted' early--you know what I mean. She might be in 8th grade, but she had 12th grade tits, no doubt about it. However, because of all this, Michelle was sort of aloof. Plus, with those tits and those brains, not to mention her stunning face, she intimidated guys like you wouldn't believe. The first time around, she certainly had intimidated me, I'll tell you that. And I wasn't even interested in her that way--not when she sat behind Kara! My Beatles-loving pal Stan Murvetsin--an outgoing, chummy sort who didn't like to let anyone get away with aloofness--teased her mercilessly. Of course he did--look at what her last name was! He'd nicknamed her "Sarge" almost immediately. Michelle Pepper, Sergeant Pepper, Sarge--get it? Michelle was alternately bemused and annoyed by Stan's teasing. She mostly took it with good grace. I think, deep down, she appreciated that a boy was teasing and joking with her, instead of stammering and looking at her tits. On this day, some of us had gotten into class. Class itself hadn't really started yet, but some of us were there early from lunch. Mrs. Sinclair was also there. Stan started in on "Sarge". She, laughing, told him to knock it off. That's when I butted in. "You'd better watch out, Michelle. He's been sticking to your last name. He hasn't glommed on to your first name, yet. Lucky you, named after two Beatles songs." "I was waiting to deal with the first name," Stan said, "until I had the opportunity to serenade her with it." "Oh, please, do not sing!" I told him. Stan and I had been friends on the first go-round, but were even better friends this time, and I could tease him. "I've heard you sing. It sounds like cats being strangled." Michelle--and Kara, who was there--giggled at this. "Not true!" Stan protested. "You'll scare away all the girls if you start singing." This is when Mrs. Sinclair, the bitch, decided to butt in. I swear, that woman just hated me. "Mr. Bovilas, you shouldn't say nasty things about your classmates." "Ah, Stan's my friend, he knows I'm just giving him a hard time." Stan wasn't upset, this was banter. "And he knows he can't sing." "I suppose you can do better?" Mrs. Sinclair spat. "Yup. I can sing." "Put your money where your mouth is," Mrs. Sinclair said nastily. "Get up in front of class, favor us all with a tune." "Need my guitar," I said. "Then bring it in tomorrow, Mr. Bovilas. I'm sure we'd all like to see how good you are, considering how you disparage other people." "Fine, you're on," I said, "as long as I can come up here before first period and drop my guitar off with you--I don't want to lug it around." "Fine," she said, clearly expecting me not to show up on Wednesday with my guitar. After class, Kara caught up to me. "Are you really going to do it?" "You bet your ass," I told her. Stan was with me. "He can sing, I've heard him. I've never heard him play, though." "I can play," I told both of them. "I'm no Eric Clapton, but I hold my own. And I want to shove it down Sinclair's throat." "I know, what is her problem?" Stan asked. "You weren't bothering me." He grinned at Kara. "It's true, I can't sing." "Her problem is that she hates boys. She especially hates smart boys. I'm both. She hates my guts." "She picked on you whole class after that," Kara said. "Yeah, I know. And on my birthday." "Really? Happy birthday!" Kara said. That's right, it was my 13th birthday. Time to give myself a slightly late birthday present. Wednesday morning, I walked into Mrs. Sinclair's room with my guitar. "See you after lunch," I said with a smile. I had pumped myself up about this. I could play. And, though my voice didn't quite have the resonance at 13 that it would gain in adulthood, I could sing. I just had to remember to be uninhibited and go for it. So, we got to English and she called me up, still expecting for me to fall on my face. I got my guitar out and made sure it was in tune. I was going to have fun with this. I'd never done anything like this the first time around--too scary, of course. This time, I wasn't scared. "OK," I said, "since this whole thing started because Mrs. Sinclair was eavesdropping onto a conversation between Stan, Michelle, and myself, I guess I've got to start off with this one." So I played--of course--"Michelle". Sailed right through it. It was one of my favorite songs to play throughout life, so I knew it cold. And I sang it right to Michelle--with a smile on my face, of course, letting her know I was just playing around. I leaned right at her desk for the "I love you, I love you, I loooooove you," part, and she gave me a huge smile. I didn't miss a note, singing or playing. When I was done, I got raucous applause--and it felt damn good They called for another, Mrs. Sinclair--stunned out of her tiny mind--acquiesced. "OK, since I'm playing acoustic--James Taylor's not too wimpy is it?" Everyone laughed. "I love playing this song," and I went into "Shower The People." It went over well. They called for one more. Mrs. Sinclair--who, by now, looked like she wanted to cry--said, "OK, but this is the last one." "All right, I'm going to try to rock out on an acoustic." Hell, I'd done it plenty times before. I even saw Melissa Ethredge do it--of course, that wouldn't happen for 23 years. Bruce himself would do it 10 years hence, though he'd rearrange it. So I knew I could pull it off. Yes, you can play "Born to Run" on an acoustic guitar. Well, as long as you can sing it. I wasn't as good at 13 as I would be at 33, but I could sing it. I'd always regretted not doing this--playing and singing in front of these people, many of whom had written me off as worthless. Well, part of it was I didn't realize how good I was until much later. I was pretty good at 13, especially with singing--hell, I won on a local TV talent show when I was six. My pubescent voice change--and my voice didn't really change all that much--didn't kill the talent. But I was inhibited and scared to really 'go for it' when I was 13. I didn't have any confidence in my talent. That's what I could draw on, because of the recycling--I knew I was good. I just had to let go, lose my inhibitions, go for it--and since I was singing Bruce, I had to belt. I belted. Jaws were hitting desks before I got halfway through the first verse. I just let it all out. And then I got gutsy. While vamping the riff between the first verse and the second, I said, "Hey I don't know anyone named Wendy. Should I change the name? What do you think? I should sing it to someone, change the name, huh?" A few people yelled, "Yeah, change the name!" I looked right at her. She didn't even see it coming. I sang it right to her. "Kara, let me in, I wanna be your friend, I wanna guard your dreams and visions..." I don't ever remember, in either life, seeing Kara Pocharsky blush. It was beautiful! And it deepened when I got to the line at the end of the middle part: "I wanna die with you, Kara, on the streets tonight, in an everlasting kiss!" When I got done, three things happened. First, the class just erupted. Second, Kara blushed the color of cranberry juice--and grinned at me. And third, Mrs. Sinclair looked like she had eaten 43 lemons. Of course, I had to rub that one in--after putting my guitar back in its case, I grinned at her and said, "Satisfied?" She didn't look satisfied at all. Which made me very satisfied! Walking out of class, Kara--still grinning and blushing--came up to me and said, quoting the song, "Strap your hands cross my engines?" "Hey, I didn't write the lyrics!" I protested. "No, you just sang them to me. With my name in them!" And then she walked away. Funny, she looked remarkably not upset about the whole thing! So, that was Wednesday. What a great day. Thursday, I was eating with Stan and his gang. I was surprised to see Beth plop down next to me. I hadn't seen a lot of Beth. It wasn't like I was avoiding her. Well, maybe it was, a little. It was still hard for me to deal with. I was still kind of feeling my way through things in my mind. But, on this day, she came and sat down with us for lunch. "Hey," she said, "you don't mind, do you?" "Of course not," I said. Stan and the gang nodded approval. "You guys all know Beth?" I made some quick introductions. "I had to come talk to you," she said, grinning. "I heard about your little show in English yesterday. Good for you! I wish I had been there to see it." "It was something," Stan confirmed. "You should've seen it. When he ever changed the name in Born to Run from Wendy to Kara, I thought poor Kara was going to swallow her tongue." Beth's eyes opened wide as she stared at me. "Kara Pocharsky?" I nodded. Beth had known about my Kara fixation since it had started. "You sang to Kara Pocharsky?" I nodded again, grinning. "WAY TO GO!" she enthused. Then she turned to the gang. "I've known this guy since he was born. The only girl he's not scared to death of is me, and that's because I'm like his sister." She turned back to me. "I still can't believe you sang to Kara Pocharsky." "Believe it," I said. "It's a whole new leaf." "Now that is good news," Beth grinned. Beth's appearance at lunch made me feel a lot better. She was being Beffy, my best friend--it was good to see. I had to enjoy this for as long as I could. We laughed and joked through the rest of lunch, Stan throwing in his two cents. Beth made a joke about me never singing to her. I told her that the only "Beth" I knew was the Kiss one, and I hated that song. "So write me one, Mister Musician," she grinned. So, can a week like that get any better? Yeah, as it turns out. Friday, in the long run, turned out to be the best day of the week. I was walking from one class to another, and I was in an area of the school that didn't get much traffic. It was the end of a hallway, with stairs leading down to the bottom floor. There were only a few classrooms down on that bottom floor. It only covered one wing of the school, since the school was on a hill, and there was another staircase to get there that was used more. Because of where I was, these were the stairs I took, but there weren't usually too many people around. One of the people I sometimes saw was Kelly Cullinane. Usually from behind, as she usually beat me to the staircase. She did on this day as well, but she wasn't going down the stairs. She was still on the top, at the end of the hall--with three of the nastier bullies of the school. Yeah, these three were pieces of work. They were taunting her--about her back brace. Calling her Quasimodo, asking how long it took for her boyfriend to get the brace off before he could fuck her--she didn't even have a boyfriend at the time--making all kinds of hunchback motions. "Here comes the cripple!" Real pleasant stuff. Poor Kelly looked like she was about to cry. Did this happen the first time around? I searched my memories. Yes, it did--but I had shoved the memory aside. Why? Because, the first time around, I just kept walking. And it shamed me--Kelly Cullinane was one of the rare few that had never been anything but nice to me. She was, and still is, one of the nicest people I've ever met. If anyone didn't deserve this kind of treatment, it was Kelly. But I had just kept walking, because--do I even have to say it?--I was scared. Not this time. I walked past Kelly, right up to the ringleader, and said, "Hey! Shut the fuck up!" Luckily, I managed to modulate my voice so I didn't give off that pubescent squeak. I hated that fucking squeak. This would be a bad time for it. "What are you going to do about it?" the asshole sneered. He was leaning up against a railing. Over the railing was a drop to the bottom of the steps at the ground floor. So, of course, I said, "I'll throw you over the fucking railing, you asshole!" He gaped at me--and his two buddies in crime were slowly moving away to extricate themselves from the situation. "You have nothing better to do than pick on the nicest girl in school just because she's got a bad back?" "Look at this!" he laughed. "The school wimp threatening me!" "Come on, asshole. I'm the school wimp? Take your best shot." Jesus, was I pissed. At him--and at myself, for not doing this thirty years before. He didn't know what he was dealing with. "Come on, do it! I'm surprised you didn't hit Kelly, just to show what a big he-man you are. You can hit me, and we'll see what you're made of." He slinked away. "Bovilas, you're not worth it!" The motherfucker backed down! Typical bully--a coward at heart. They picked on the weak. That might have been me the first go-round. It wasn't me now. I have NEVER--not in either life--felt as good about myself as I did at that moment. That one moment made the whole recycling worth it. It was the most amazing thing. I felt like I had wiped out so much pain and self-loathing, with just that one act. Standing up for myself, with Roger, was one thing. Standing up for someone else--someone I liked and considered a friend? That was something else entirely. It felt so damn good. When I turned around, Kelly was looking at me like I was an alien that had just stepped out of a spaceship. Hell, I couldn't blame her. She'd known Ed Bovilas since first grade. She'd never seen that Ed Bovilas. "C'mon, Kel, let's get you to class," I said. I grabbed her by the arm, and steered her towards the stairs. We walked down the stairs, her looking at me the whole while like I had four heads. We got to the bottom, and headed for the row of classrooms. Hers was right across the hall from mine. "You OK?" I asked her as we got there. "Yes. I'm fine." Then she smiled at me--and kissed my cheek! "Thank you," she said--and disappeared into her classroom. I pretty much floated into mine. I'd learned my lesson about talking. I didn't say a word about what had happened, to anyone. Well, I told my parents, who were proud of me. But I didn't say a word to anyone in school. The bully didn't need to be humiliated, that'd just make him carry a grudge. As it turns out, I didn't need to tell anyone. Kelly did. Not too many people, but the important ones. Her twin brother Patrick came up to me the next Monday. Patrick and I had an uneasy relationship. We'd been friends throughout grammar school, until fifth grade, when we got into a fight. We'd been more-or-less friendly after that, but there was a certain distance. It was one of those unfathomable things--why did people eventually turn on me? It had happened repeatedly in my first go-round. I didn't get it. This time, however, Patrick came up to me in school. "Hey," he said. "Thanks for what you did for my sister on Friday. That took a lot of guts." That was nice. What was nicer, however, was something that I wouldn't find out right away. But I'd learn, later, that there was one other person Kelly had told: Kara. ------- JANUARY 24th, 1978 The events of that week had given me a major, major boost. I felt like I was in control. Well, not completely--there was still Beth--but, more than I had the first time. And, on this date, I made a decision. We had gotten The Letter that I had gotten the last time--the one telling me that I was a finalist for a scholarship to go to the Prep. The first time, I had been thrilled. I went through the interview process and then got the scholarship--a full ride. My parents were pleased as punch. And, here I was, in this go-round, telling them I didn't want to go to the Prep. I had thought a lot about it. Unfortunately, I couldn't really explain some of it to Mom and Dad without revealing the truth. Look, I'd enjoyed my time at the Prep. In hindsight, though, I wasn't sure if it really did me any good. I went there for two reasons--because I was bored--academically, I mean--and because I was getting beaten up. The second wasn't as bad this time around, because of the changes I had made. And the first? Well, I wasn't bored at the Prep--but I still never learned how to study. I didn't get straight A's without cracking a book, like I did in grades one through eight--but I graduated the Prep with a 3.3 without cracking a book. I never did learn how to study, which killed me in college. The Prep wasn't going to teach me how to study, I knew that. If I was going to get some study skills, it was all down to me, no matter where I went to high school. And Cabot High wasn't bad--there were honors and AP classes I'd be able to take there. I'd have to endure one more year at Cabot East JHS, but then I'd go to Cabot High for tenth grade. So, hindsight told me that the academic benefits of the Prep weren't really going to do much for me in the long run. That's what I couldn't tell my parents, since that was all experience talking. What I could tell them was the other reason; which was partly from experience but I could pass it off as intuition. I was smart enough to handle the academics anywhere as long as I learned how to study. However, going to the Prep would stunt me socially--it did, the first time around. I didn't really realize it until later in life, but it did. College was a nightmare socially. I never 'grew up' and learned to deal with the 'real world', because the Prep was filled with guys like me: insecure social-misfit nerds with brains too big for their own good. I got along fine there, but it was too insular. Since the Prep was all-male, it really stunted me in dealing with girls and women. That really caused a problem in college. I was so hopeless at reading 'signals' from women that I let slip through my fingers many opportunities in college. I didn't realize any of this until much later in life, when I got better at certain things. I managed to explain this to my parents without telling them I'd been down this road before. They weren't happy, but they did accept the 'socially stunted' argument. And Dad was sympathetic to the 'no girls' argument, at least! As I said, they weren't thrilled, but they also weren't the type of parents to force me into a decision like this one. I'd skip the Prep this time around. So, I'd made another monumental change from the pattern. It'd take time to see how this one worked out. ------- JANUARY 30th, 1978 This was the day I decided to bite the bullet. I'd been thinking about doing it anyway, but a conversation with Kelly the previous Friday really convinced me to go for it. One thing that had happened after my 'defense' of Kelly is that she had started waiting for me at the top of that staircase every day. We'd walk down together, chatting. On that day, Friday the 27th, she said something interesting. "You know Kara broke up with Don Nixon, right?" "Yeah," I said. "So, what are you going to do about it?" she grinned. I just looked at her. "Come on, Eddie, don't try and fool me. You like Kara, still." I looked at her. Shit, Kelly was Kara's best friend! "Wait a minute, Kel--are you telling me that I won't get shot down?" "I don't know," Kelly said seriously. "I know the way she feels about you has changed. You annoyed her for a long time. You don't, anymore. Some of the things you've done lately--well, she's impressed." "That's good, and I'm glad I don't annoy her," I laughed, "but you don't know if she'll go out with me." "No," she said, and sighed. "I hope you get her to say yes, though." I just looked at her. "Eddie, listen. Don Nixon? Turned out to be a big fat jerk." "Really?" I said, surprised--I hadn't known this from the first time. "Really," Kelly confirmed. "Kara was so in love with him, for all of last year. Then, this year, he asks her out. She's happy, right? Well, it didn't work out good. Don's got no respect for girls." "Oh," I said, quietly fuming. "Kara's been sad about it for a while. She needs a nice guy." Kelly grinned at me. "That, pal, would be you." I let that one ring in my head for the weekend. Monday I got on the bus, having decided to give it a shot. Luckily, the bus was early, so there was time to kill before the bell rang. I went over to Kara--who was with Kelly, who gave me a grin and a wink--and asked if I could talk to her. We walked over into a corner. Be cool. Don't stutter. Forget you're 13 and this is the girl you've been besotted with for 2 years. That's what I told myself. I think I almost pulled it off. Asking her in person was an improvement. I'd done it over the phone the first time, but I had to be cool. "Kara, I was wondering," I said easily, "would you like to go out with me on Saturday? I thought we could hit a movie." Kara looked conflicted. It looked like I was going to get shot down again. "Well, Eddie, uhm..." she stammered. "Wait," I said. Dammit, this was my last shot. "Before you answer me, let me say something." She looked at me expectantly. "I just want the chance to spend some time with you, get to know you better. One date, that's all I ask, especially since you don't know me at all." She laughed. "I've known you since kindergarten!" "You know me here, in school. I'm not at my best here. I'm not at my best in crowds. I'm just asking for one date where we spend it one-on-one. We've never done that--except for the few times you and Kelly have caught me out running. That's as close as we've gotten, and we've gotten along fine those times." She still looked skeptical, but less so, so I pressed on. "Kara, I'm not a jerk. I'm not going to hurt you. If you go out with me, all you've got to lose is a few hours. And, heck, the movie might be good anyway." She giggled at that, took a breath, and said, "Okay." I did not do a jig right there in front of her. I resisted. "We'll have to go in the afternoon, though," she said. "My parents are strict about movie dates at night. Parties and dances are fine, but movies have to be in the afternoon." "That's fine," I said. "And, that way, we can walk, instead of waiting for a ride," she said, and then she thought, "Oh, wait a minute--it's a lot farther for you, isn't it?" She lived about halfway between my house and the shopping center--which is where the movie theater was. "Yeah, but that's fine. Running man, right?" She giggled at that. "I just won't run Saturday, I'll walk with you to the movies instead. Noon sound good?" "Great. See you then," she said and walked into the building. I wanted to SCREAM! I didn't. But I think I had a stupid shit-eating grin on my face for most of the morning. Three class periods later, Kelly was waiting for me as I approached the staircase. She had a big grin on her own face. "Saw Kara this morning," she said. "Really?" "Yup. Congratulations. Don't screw it up!" "Don't plan to," I smiled at her. ------- FEBRUARY 4th, 1978 It really didn't matter if I were 13 or 43. Walking to Kara's house for our date, I was damn nervous. Luckily, I had plenty of money. I didn't always--a paper route didn't pay much, and I was trying to build up my record collection. However, Dad had taken my advice about the Super Bowl and had put down some money on the Cowboys. He split the winnings with me. I got there and her mom invited me in. I'd met Mrs. Pocharsky a number of times. She was a nice lady. "Come on in, Eddie," she said, "Kara will be down in a minute. So, tell me," she grinned at me. "How, exactly, did you pull this off?" "I have no idea," I smiled. "She's actually looking forward to going out with you. I was stunned! I've known about your crush on her the whole time--she used to complain about it! And now she's going out with you?" "Well," I told her, "I've made some changes. I guess Kara noticed." "I'd say so!" Just then, Kara came downstairs, so I was saved from further episodes of the Spanish Inquisition. She came down all ready to go--including outerwear. It was February, and though it wasn't a frigid day, it was rather cold. Kara was wearing a white down jacket, with a pink scarf around her neck and white fur earmuffs. She was so damn adorable! I wanted to gush but kept it mild. "You wearing earmuffs is the cutest thing I've ever seen," I said. She beamed at me. We headed out. "So, what are we going to see?" she asked as we walked down the street. "I figured we could see The Goodbye Girl. It's supposed to be good." In fact, it was one of my favorite movies. That was one of the problems with being recycled--nothing was new. This one I wouldn't mind seeing again, though--I'd seen it a number of times. "It's a romantic comedy." "A romance?" she giggled. "A guy picked a romance? I figured I'd have to sit through a boy movie!" "I like romantic comedies," I told her, which was the truth. "One surprise after another," she laughed. "Eddie, you have changed so much, I'm amazed." "Not that much," I told her. "Just, hopefully, the bad parts." She giggled at that. "Is that why you actually decided to say yes?" "Yeah," she admitted. "Plus, well, look--I always liked you, but I also felt sorry for you. And I couldn't go out with someone that I felt sorry for. Plus, you were annoying once you decided you liked me." "I know," I laughed. "You do?" "Of course." "You really have changed," she said in a low voice. "Anyhow, you stopped being annoying a couple months ago. I still felt sorry for you, though. Then you sang in English class. I think that's when I stopped feeling sorry for you. "Then you stuck up for Kelly. When she told me that, I didn't believe her at first, you know. That impressed me so much." "Kelly's a good person. She doesn't deserve that kind of crap," I said. "It's not her fault she has scoliosis." "That's what I mean," she said, but didn't explain. Then she changed the subject. "So, what happened with Cyndi Gagnon?" I told her the whole story. She cracked up laughing. "No kissing until sixteen? Jeez. Now that's a prude. I mean, I kissed Mark Adamopoulos in sixth grade." "I did not need to know that," I said, but was laughing when I said it. "Sorry," she said, shrugging, with a grin. Then her voice dropped. "I did more than kiss with Don. Which was a big fat mistake." "What happened with him? You were as gaga over him as I was over you." She laughed, then sobered. "Don, well, he wasn't what I thought. First of all, he's all hands, know what I mean?" "Yeah." "I'm no prude, but there's limits. I mean, I'm only 13. He didn't care about them. Cyndi thought you were going too fast? I should throw Don at her. She doesn't know what 'too fast' means. And, second of all, Don basically expected me to be a, I don't know, a slave or something." "YOU?" I blurted out. She beamed at me. "I know. But, like you said, I was gaga. I probably let it go on longer than I should have. People do stupid things when they think they're in love." "No, really?" I said, completely deadpan. "I never would have known that." She cracked up laughing, then she sobered. "Anyhow, he expected to make all the decisions. We did what he wanted. Period. I had no say. And it got worse. Don, basically, has no respect for girls." "So, what you're telling me is that he took complete advantage of the fact that you were crazy about him." She looked at me. "That's it! That's exactly right--that's just what he did. I never thought of it quite like that before, but that's it." "He didn't have to work at it," I added. "Right." I looked at her. "Well, you're better off then. Because I have to work at it." She cracked up laughing. "That's right, you do, don't you?" "Yup." "You're going to have to woo me." "Something like that." She was still giggling. "Oh, this could be fun, couldn't it?" I shook my head at her. "You are enjoying this way too much." She laughed once more, then just looked at me. "I was always flattered. I just couldn't see it. Until lately. Actually, I thought you might have changed your mind. You've been so different around me. You talk to me like a normal person. And singing to me--that shocked me." "Like I said, I decided to make some changes. I figured out--finally--that acting like a stupid lovesick stammering fool around you wasn't going to get me anywhere." Kara was always wise and perceptive for her age, and she proved it then. "How much of this has to do with Beth?" she asked softly. "Some of it." That was the truth, though, in the 'old' life, it had happened much later than this. I went on. "It's two things, really. The first is--life is too damn short." "Yeah," she agreed sadly. "The second is this--my problem has always been fear. I'm scared of my own shadow. And my best friend is dying. What the heck do I have to be scared about? That I might get beat up? That you might say no? Beth's illness made me think about a lot of that. "So, it was both things. The whole life's too short thing. Plus, things change, sometimes in a hurry. You're going to Andrews in September. I assume you're going to board there." "Most likely," she said. "So, that's eight months from now. If things went on the way they were, you'd go to Andrews and I'd never see you again." Which is exactly what happened in the old life. "So, as Elvis once sang, It's Now Or Never." She giggled at that. "And I realized that I had nothing to be scared about. I like you--I should be able to talk to you, shouldn't I? And if you said no, you said no. I'd be back to square one." "I'm impressed," she said. "And I'm glad. Like I said, I always liked you--the guy behind the stammering nerd, I mean," she giggled. I laughed back. "So, what would you have done if I had said no." "Move on to the next target," I said with an evil grin. "Which would've been... ?" she asked. "I'm not tellin'." "Come on," she said, grabbing my arm and tugging. "Fess up. I know I'm first choice, so it won't bother me." "You know you're first choice, huh? Damn, this is going straight to your head," I teased. She looked at me. "Jeez, Eddie, I though for sure I'd get the stammering fool with that comment." "I told you, he's been banished. And you are first choice, I've never made a secret of it, so who cares?" She looked at me, and then smiled. "OK, fine, but you still haven't told me who second choice would've been if I'd shot you down." "Fine, fine. Kelly. You satisfied?" "Well, I'm going to just have to make you stick around then," she grinned. Damn did that sound good! "Because, I can tell you, Kelly would say yes in a heartbeat." "She would, would she? Hmmm," I jokingly mused. "Nope, none of that!" she burst out. "No options for you! I've been promised a good wooing and I'd better get it!" "Yes, ma'am," I said. That cracked her up again. By that time, we'd gotten to the movie theater. I bought the tickets--and drinks and popcorn, of course--and we settled in. As I said, I'd seen The Goodbye Girl plenty of times, and had always liked it. It was strange, though, it was kind of like seeing it for the first time. There were days when this whole recycling thing made me feel schizophrenic. Part of me had seen it twenty times, but the other part of me had never seen it. Of course, part of that was Kara. She had never seen it, and was plainly enjoying it. We finished the popcorn, and I tucked the container under my seat. The next thing I knew, her hand was resting lightly on mine. How good could this be going? Jesus, what a turnaround! The movie ended, and she told me how much she had enjoyed it. We got out of our seats, and got back into our winter outerclothing in the lobby. Then we headed out. As we started walking, she reached over and took my hand. It wasn't exactly intimate, considering we were both wearing gloves, but it was still thrilling, especially as she had done it. I didn't plan to lay a hand on her--I didn't want to scare her off. She must've realized that, and took the initiative. We walked, easily chatting, about the movie and other things. She loved the movie, and was glad I had suggested it. "It's getting colder," she said at one point. "Well, then, strap your hands cross my engines," I joked. She looked at me and burst out laughing. Then she calmed down, but was still smiling. "I can't get over you," she said. "You're so relaxed! Even after you asked me out, I thought you'd be all nervous going out with me." "I'm hiding it well," I told her, which was the truth. She grinned at me. "Look, this was all I expected, OK? I got a date with you. That was the height of my wish list, so to speak. I was determined that we both have a good time. If this was it, then this was it. If I thought about a second date, or anything else, I'd drive myself crazy." "You don't have to worry about that," she said, softly but firmly. Damn, did that mean what it sounded like? Before I had a chance to say anything, she changed the subject. "Ed? I have to tell you something. I told Kelly I was going out with you, but, well, nobody else. OK?" "Oh," I said. "I see. Some people are going to think you're out of your mind, is that it?" "More or less," she said, laughing gently. "Well, you know, it's difficult. And you're right, I don't really know you. Well, I know you better, now. But, well, other people--they really don't know you." She sighed. "I know if we start dating, we'll have to tell people eventually--not to wouldn't be fair." I couldn't let that one go by! "If we start dating?" I asked. "Well," she grinned, "you have to ask me on another date first." "Will you go out with me next weekend?" "Absolutely," she said, still giggling. "Look, Ed--I always thought you were nice, and sweet, and smart. It was just the whole annoying nerd thing that put me off. Without that, you're a great guy." "Well, I know my limitations," I told her. "No need to add to them, which is why I made the annoying nerd go away." "Limitations?" she asked. "I'll never be a heartthrob," I laughed. "Oh, you're cute," she said, smiling. "Cute enough. And, let me tell you something--Kelly and I have talked about this. Your weightlifting has paid off," she said, and grabbed my bicep! "Kelly and I were giggling about that the other day. Ed Bovilas has muscles!" "Amazing, isn't it?" I laughed. "Ed? Whatever you're doing, it's working, OK? I had a great time today." "I did, too," I told her. We had gotten to the top of her street. Around the corner, and her house was the second one. She stopped there, before we went around the corner. "Ed? My house is right there, and my mother will probably be looking out the window, so, if you want, I mean... uh, well... before we go around the corner... I mean... I'm not Cyndi Gagnon, OK?" As shocked as I was at that stammering request, I wasn't stupid. I knew exactly what she was offering. I gladly took it. I put my arms around her waist, leaned down, and kissed her. Can you say, "beyond my wildest expectations"? I was just stunned. I hid it well and kissed the living daylights out of her, even though this wasn't a tongue kiss--I wasn't going to push that. When we finally separated, she was looking up at me with a whole new expression in her eyes. With a little sigh, she took my hand, and we walked around the corner to her house. "Eddie? I really did have a very good time." "The best," I agreed. She smiled at that. "You have my phone number?" I nodded. "Call me tomorrow." "OK," I happily agreed. Then she went in. It was about a half-mile walk from her house to mine. My feet did not touch the ground! ------- Chapter 3: I Didn't Know What to Do, So I Whispered 'I Love You' FEBRUARY 8th, 1978 I had called Kara on Sunday and we had had a pleasant talk for about an hour. Monday, I saw her briefly in school. We didn't talk much, but she gave me a huge smile when I walked into English. Then, on Monday night, it hit. Something else I'd have to relive that I'd forgotten about: The Blizzard of '78. I got home from school to the beginning of flurries. I started my paper route in a light snow. When I finished my paper route--which was about an hour later--I was trudging through blinding snow. Just like the first time! The Blizzard of '78 was a big huge thing in the Boston area. It was something that was still talked about 30 years later. It wasn't just a snowstorm--though it was that, over two feet fell--it was also accompanied by gale force winds, massive high tides with floods, beach erosion, some coastal houses lost, fatalities, the whole bit. It was, basically, a hurricane with snow instead of rain (though not technically). There were 8 and 10 foot snowdrifts due to the wind (and the fact that there was already some snow on the ground from the previous week). It shut Eastern Massachusetts down--I mean, completely shut it down--for a week. Of course, when you're 13 years old, it was great. Kara called me Monday night, in the middle of it. "Do you believe this?" she asked excitedly. "Oh, I was out doing my paper route when it started. It went from flurries to me getting buried before I could blink." "I believe it!" she laughed. "Well, at least we won't have school tomorrow." "Probably for the rest of the week," I told her. Tuesday, I helped Dad dig out, and helped my brother and sister build a toboggan run in the back yard. It started at the top of the bulkhead, six feet off the ground. That's how deep the drifts were! Now it was Wednesday, the state was still shut down, and Mom had a proposition for me. My grandmother was snowed in. It was about a two-mile walk to her house. And walk is what I'd have to do--you couldn't drive, the roads were closed. Would I be willing to walk over there, dig her out, and then stay with her for a few days? Sure, I would--I had done this the first go-round. Of course, there was a little difference this time--the route I took to get to Gram's. My street, Hereford Street, spilled out onto Border Street, a main road. Gram lived two miles down Border, on another side street in the next town. So, all I'd have to do was go to the end of my street, turn left, and keep walking. I didn't do that. I went the other way from my house, up through some side streets that paralleled Border St., and found myself turning onto Lee Rd., right where Kara lived. I debated this. I debated this the whole way to her street, actually--debated pulling down one of the other side streets to head to Border St. Why? Well, I didn't want to look like I was pushing it. I guess part of me kept saying that this wasn't supposed to happen. I mean anything between Kara and me, it just wasn't supposed to happen. I was ecstatic, of course, but I didn't trust it. Plus, we'd had one date, and a couple of phone conversations--all great, mind you, but not much. I wouldn't have been trusting it at this point in any case. So, I was worried about pushing. But I headed for her house anyway. We weren't going to have school all week, it looked like, and I really did want to see her, if only for a minute. When I rounded the corner on to the top of Lee Rd., there she was. Her whole family, actually: both of her parents, her brother and sister, and Kara. Mr. Pocharsky was shoveling, along with Kara's younger brother Dave. Kara had a shovel next to her, but seemed more intent on helping her little sister Angela build a snowman. Mrs. Pocharsky was just kind of watching over everything. In fact, she was the first one to see me as I came in front of the house. Mrs. Pocharsky said, "Kara," and then pointed past Kara towards me. Kara turned, and a huge smile split her face. Wasn't that nice to see! "Hey!" she said, walking over to me. "Hi, Eddie! What are you doing here?" "He's come to help us shovel out, right?" Mr. Pocharsky offered. I laughed. "Normally, I'd offer, but I have to walk two miles to my grandmother's house and shovel her out." I looked at Kara. "And you're on the way, so I wanted to say hi." "Where does your grandmother live?" Kara asked. I told her. Her eyes twinkled. "On the way, huh?" She knew the slightly varied route I'd taken. "Well, sort of on the way," I said. "I wanted to see you, since we won't have school all week." "Good!" she laughed. "Hold on a second." She went and talked to her mother, then came back to me. "Come on," she said, grabbing my hand and heading down the street. "Huh?" "You need to get to your grandmother's and shovel her out, you good grandson," she laughed. "I figured I could walk with you a bit. Up to the bowling alley or something." "Great!" I agreed. We walked to the end of Lee Rd, just chatting about whatever. At the end of Lee Rd., across Border St., there was a school--Cardinal Steen High School (where my sister would eventually end up going, at least the first time.) It had a large yard in front, which was pretty much untouched snow. Kara giggled and headed right into it. "This is great! I should bring David and Angela down here to build a snowman." Then she flopped into it. It was so deep, she almost sank out of my view. "Snow angels!" she chirped, and started making one. It struck me then. Was this the same Kara? Did changing timelines change the person? I thought about it, and decided--no. She'd been the same Kara I'd known for the four months I'd been 'back'. Today, she was different, though. Kara'd always been fairly serious and reserved. Not solemn or anything like that, just reserved. Today? She was positively giddy. I said as much. "Boy, you're in a bubbly mood today!" She laughed, still making a snow angel. "Snow makes me feel like a little kid, I guess." She stood up then--smiling, flushed, snow-covered, and grinning at me. "And, I admit," she said a little softer, "I'm happy to see you." How did I get this lucky? She stepped over towards me, out of the impression she had made in the snow. "You wanna see my snow angel?" "I think I'm already looking at one," I blurted out. It was the right thing to say. Before I knew it, she was wrapped around me, pressing her lips into mine. We separated--me barely staying upright!--and then we got out of the snow drifts on the lawn and started walking. I still didn't trust this, though. "Kara," I said to her after a minute, "have I changed that much?" She thought for a few seconds, and then said, "Yes and no. I don't know, really. You changed enough to get me to go on a date with you. Quite honestly, I thought that's all it was going to be." She sighed. "But, you were right. I really don't, or didn't, know you." She looked at me with a little smile. "When we were on the phone Sunday night, you had me cracking up. It felt good. I really enjoyed our date Saturday. I was glad to see you today." She took a breath. "I don't understand it, either. It just is." "Good enough for me," I laughed. We walked, not saying much, until we got to the bowling alley. "I'd better turn back here," she sighed. She leaned up and kissed me again. "Call me, OK? Especially to let me know when you're coming home." "Will do," I told her. ------- FEBRUARY 14h, 1978 The eleventh was The Saturday After The Blizzard. Things were starting to open up just a wee bit, but it was still treacherous going. I had spent the last couple days with my grandmother, but decided to walk home today. I called Kara before I left. "Great! I'll meet you!" "Huh?" I said. "I'll leave now and I'll meet you halfway." Unbelievable. When we met up, she kissed me. Then we started walking. We chatted easily until we got to her house. She kissed me again, a few houses from hers, then she went in. Monday we were back in school. Wednesday was Valentine's Day. It seemed like I might actually have a valentine, for the very first time. So, I had to get her something, didn't I? I decided on a little scheme. I went for my run early Wednesday morning, with Kara's Valentines goodies in hand--a card, a couple of Valentine's heart-shaped balloons, and a bag filled with Hershey's Kisses. Kara had told me she was a confirmed chocoholic. The plan was to drop the bounty on her doorstep, so she'd see it when she opened the door--and then continue running. I'd hoped I was early enough; I didn't want to get 'caught'. I creeped up to her doorstep, and arranged the stuff. I looked up--and the front door had opened! Damn, I thought, but it wasn't Kara. It was her mother, standing there with a big grin. I put my finger to my lips as if to say 'shhh'. She nodded and grinned wider. I took off before Kara came out. Later that morning, I went to my locker in between classes. I opened it and an envelope fell out. I picked it up and opened it. It was from Kara. Underneath the printed message inside, she had signed it "Love, Kara," which was nice. But what she wrote on the opposite, blank, part was even better. It was in a different pen, so she must've added it after she went to her doorstep this morning. It said, "I couldn't believe it! You are the sweetest guy in the universe!" And she signed it with a heart, and her initials, KP, inside the heart. Later, in English, I got a blinding smile for my troubles. That day, on the bus, I was sitting a few rows away from her. She was sitting with Kelly. Another one of her cronies, Danica Rosen, was sitting behind her. "Hershey's Kisses? You got kisses? Gimmee!" I heard Danica say. "No way. These are mine. My Valentine gave them to me," Kara said. "Valentine? You got a valentine? Who?" Danica asked her. "I'm not tellin'!" As if all this wasn't satisfying enough--I was barely in the front door of my house when the phone rang. And she was gushing! I was reeling. This was Kara Pocharsky, for crying out loud, a girl who wouldn't give me the time of day the first time around! And now, somehow, I seemed to have found the key to her heart. And I wasn't quite sure how! I guess I really did know, even more than I thought I did, the mistakes I had made the first time around. But still, sometimes it seemed like I hadn't stepped into my own past as much as I had stepped into the twilight zone! ------- MARCH 1st, 1978 I guess I wasn't completely in the twilight zone, though. But I'll get back to that. Between Valentine's Day and March 1st, which was a Wednesday, Kara and I had gone out a few more times. We talked on the phone almost every night. After our last date, I had asked her, "So, are we dating now?" "We're definitely dating now," she giggled. The kiss she gave me then could've set a house on fire! This was important to me. I had a relationship, and it was going well. Well, it was even more special because it was with Kara. But having a real relationship, at only 13, was something else. On my first go-round, I didn't have that. The closest I got was with Cyndi. After her, it wasn't until my senior year, when I was 17, that I had a relationship. Her name was Rosalie, and we were set up by a friend of mine. We went out from March of Senior Year until I left for school in September. I went to college in St. Louis, and neither of us wanted a long distance relationship, so we parted. However, she was sweet and we had fun. The next summer, I dated my next-door neighbor Josephine. That was very nice, and it was my first real physical relationship, though we didn't go all the way. That lasted as a long-distance relationship all through first semester. We had joyous reunions at Thanksgiving and Christmas. In February, however, I got a Dear John letter. The next four years, give or take, were one unrequited infatuation after another, combined with washing out of college. When I was 22, I looked up Rosalie again. I remembered her fondly from high school. We met up, and started dating again. Shortly thereafter, she got my virginity. What a fucking mistake. Rosalie had changed, a lot. I guess part of it was that I refused to see that. But part of it was my state of mind. I was 22, almost 23, and had had two brief relationships in my life. I was insecure about relationships, had no self-esteem, and was love and sex-starved. Quite honestly, I would've gone out with--and slept with--anybody that had offered at that point. Since I had fond memories of Rosalie, I was easy pickings. But, as I said, Rosalie had changed. She'd gone to college and, basically, allowed anything with a prick to fuck her. She had her own self-esteem issues--and a lot of them had to do with control. So, I was insecure and unsure and, frankly, desperate--and I ended up in a relationship with someone that had control issues. Sound familiar to anyone? Sound familiar to anyone that's been in an abusive relationship? And you thought that only happened to women. It was mainly emotional, but I got one black eye out of it. I'm not even the one that ended it, to my everlasting shame. She did... and I thought I'd lost something. It's amazing--and depressing--how the failures of childhood follow you for too long a time. Anyhow, this all popped into my mind, walking alongside Kara as we came home from one of our dates. There were probably a lot of reasons why Rosalie happened, and why I let it happen, but this was one of them; probably the biggest one. Because I never had this. I looked over at Kara, smiling, holding my hand, and realized--I never had this. It wasn't about sex--it was about having a teenaged relationship. I'd never done that, so I didn't know how to do it. And when it came time to have an adult relationship, the one with Rosalie is the one I found myself in. I was thinking of all this. I stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, and just wrapped my arms around Kara and hugged her, as tight as I could. "Mmmmmm," she purred, "what was that for?" "Just felt like it, is all," I said. "You're such a sweetheart," she grinned, and we started walking again. Like I said earlier--the fucking Twilight Zone. But if that's where I was, I didn't want to leave! Of course, not completely, as the events of this day--March 1st--made plain. I missed the bus. I was at the phones in front of the school--damn, I missed cell phones!--trying to call my Mom. No answer. Damn. I turned around to see Beth grinning at me. "Missed the bus and your Mom's not home again, right?" "You got it, Beffy." "Well, come on, then." Beth lived close enough to school to walk. This had happened a couple of times last year, where I missed the bus and couldn't get a hold of Mom. Beth and I walked to her house. I was able to hang out there until I could get ahold of Mom. There was a shortcut from school to Beth's house, it ran along railroad tracks. We always went that way. And the tracks got us away from the busy streets--easier to talk that way. As I said, we'd done this a few times last year. This hadn't happened yet this year, though--in other words, it hadn't happened since she'd been diagnosed. We loped along together down the railroad tracks. "So," she started with a grin, "is what I hear true?" "What would that be?" I asked her. "You're actually dating Kara Pocharsky?" "Yeah," I admitted. "How did you find out, though?" "Kara told me," she grinned. "We're in Home Ec together, you know, and we were assigned to be partners on a cooking project. I don't know her at all, except for your glowing descriptions," she smirked. "You know me, I don't talk a lot to people I don't know." "And with those of us that are your friends, you talk our ears off," I teased. "Yeah, yeah. Shut up," she grinned. "Anyway, she started it. Said to me, 'You're really good friends with Eddie Bovilas, aren't you?' I told her I was. That's when she told me you guys were going out. You must be on cloud nine," she smiled. "Pretty much." "We did that project together for a week, so we talked. She's very sweet. Smart, too. And she's nuts about you!" "I know," I laughed. "Do not ask me how that happened." "Well, I've noticed you've changed a lot this year. You're more confident. Once Kara got past that, she surely noticed how sweet you are. Knowing you, I'll bet you treat her like a queen." "Yeah, basically," I smiled. "And she said the same thing--not being an annoying nerd allowed me to show her the good parts." "I'm glad, I really am," Beth said. "Somebody's got to watch out for you." "Yup, and since you did it all last year, I guess it's someone else's turn," I told her with a grin. I thought that that was a pretty innocuous comment. I was wrong. She looked at me in complete shock. "What?" she gasped. "You don't know? You got me through last year. I don't know what I would've done without you. Seventh grade was the worst year of my life. I felt like a complete outcast. Except around you. You introduced me to your friends. You told one of the assholes to get off my back in English class. If you saw me eating lunch alone, you dragged your friends over to eat with me. If I had a day when I was beat up or harassed, you were the one that told me it'd be all right. Last year was hell, Beth. The one and only bright spot was you." She was still looking at me like I was an alien being. She never knew this? The first time around, she died without knowing this? Of course, that time I'd never said it, either. I could kick myself. Then, she started crying. "Beth? Did I say something wrong?" With that, she hurled herself at me. Before I knew it, I was holding in my arms 100 pounds of crying, shuddering female. I just stroked her hair and let her cry it out. Finally she calmed down--and tried to explain what she was thinking. "God, Ed, I mean--I worry--I wonder... If, you know, it all means anything... if I had done any good... it's so short... I mean... did I do anything... before I, you know..." I interrupted her. "You wonder if you've accomplished anything, if you did anything." She looked at me, and I understood the unspoken question. "Beth," I said gently, "I understand your prognosis, you know." "You do?" "Yeah." She took a breath, and started walking again. I walked beside her. "I thought you were in denial." "I probably was for a while. I'm not anymore." "Everybody else is," she snorted. "Well, my Dad mostly isn't. But everybody else is. My Mom, my brothers, my friends--everybody's counting on a miracle." "Beth, I know you well enough--you must have some hope." "Oh, sure," she agreed. "But I'm also a realist. Let's face it--the odds are extremely high that I'm dying." "I know," I said. "And the problem with nobody else accepting this fact is that people keep looking towards the future. Maybe this, and possibly that, and keep hope up, and so on. I have trouble living that way. I find myself having to be realistic. The odds are I don't have much of a future. So I'm trying to live for today, you know? Every day I wake up still alive is another day--and that's a good thing." Though we'd never had this conversation the first time around, I wasn't surprised by it. I'd heard from other people that this was her basic attitude for the whole time she was in remission. I'm glad I got the second chance to talk to her about it, though. "I see what you mean," I told her, "but you worry that you're not doing anything." "Yeah." "Well, you did for me. I'm not exaggerating, OK? You were my rock last year. Plus, you're my best friend. You've always been my best friend. That means a lot to me. It might not mean much in the grand scheme of things, but it means a lot to me." "You saying that means a lot to me," she said. "I must admit, though, that it almost seemed as if you've been avoiding me." "Well, I probably have, at least a little bit. Trying to get myself together about it, is all. I mean, shit--what do you say?" "You just said it," she smiled. "Good, then," I said. "And I promise I won't be avoiding you. Now that we got this out of the way." "Good," she said. We were walking hand-in-hand down the railroad tracks. "Of course, Kara will probably be upset," she joked. "No, she won't. Kara knows, Beth. She also understands. Honestly, when I tell her about this conversation, she'll be happy we had it." "Good. Then she really is good for you. That's good to know." She paused. "There was one thing that puzzled me, though, and Kara didn't really answer it. Why do I never see you guys together?" "Because we don't do that in school," I told her. She looked at me. "Kara and I dating isn't common knowledge. Kara's not ready for that." "Well, that's not very nice," Beth said. I laughed. "Maybe so, but I understand it. When it gets out, there's going to be shit. Some of her friends aren't going to accept this. You know my reputation. You see through it, and so does Kara. Now Kara's best friend, Kelly Cullinane, sees through it, too. Kelly knows about Kara and I. But a lot of the rest of Kara's crowd just sees the reputation." "Ah. That must be tough for you, though." "A little, but I think it'll take care of itself. Hell, we've not even been going out a month yet. Kara told me she wanted to make sure this really was something before she went public with it. We're not exactly secretive--only in school. I go to her house and pick her up, and all her friends live in her neighborhood. It's just luck we haven't been spotted." "I can sort of understand that. I'm glad she told me, though," Beth said. "So am I, since I hadn't had a chance to," I laughed. ------- MARCH 14th,1978 When I talked to Kara on the phone on Monday Night, the 13th, she dropped the bomb. "Honey? It's time to bite the bullet. What I've been doing is unfair to you, and I've come to see it's unfair to me, too." "Uh, what are you talking about?" I said, not without a degree of trepidation. "I'm talking about sneaking around. There's a party Saturday night. We're going--together. And, in preparation for that, you're eating lunch with me tomorrow. I'm going to ask you to the party right in front of all my friends. If they can't accept it, that's their problem." Wow! "Are you sure?" "Yes, very sure," she said. "Let's get this out of the way." "OK, if you want." "I want. Do you want?" "Yes," I said immediately. "I understand your reasons for keeping it secret, but, yeah, it's bugging me. I'd like to be able to kiss you good morning." She laughed. "That sounds delightful!" After we got off the bus this day, the 14th, she pulled me over to a corner. "Wait five minutes at lunch, OK?" "Fine. I'll have to kind of lurk around since I brown-bagged it today. You want to set them up." "A little, yes." "How demonstrative do you want me to be?" I laughed. "Oh, as much as you want. Very would be nice," she purred. "I think I can handle that," I said, still laughing. I saw her at lunch, getting together with her friends, at their customary table. She left the seat at the end, right next to her, open. I could see she had put her books in front of it to save it. I killed the five minutes by finding Beth, and telling her what was going on. "Good luck, loverboy," she laughed, and gave me a big hug. I found out later what Kara was telling her friends. "Look, guys, you need to know something. I have a boyfriend. We've been going out for over a month. I haven't told you guys because you're going to be surprised. But he's going to come eat with us today. I want to invite him to Sara's party." I guess they all looked at her, wondering what was up. It was just then that I came to the table. I sat in the seat next to her, and she grinned at me. Before anyone else got a chance to say anything, Bob Golan--a neighbor of the Cullinane twins and a guy I didn't like much--said, "Hey, Bovilas, what are you doing? You can't just sit there! That seat's saved for Kara's new boyfriend!" "I know," I grinned, and turned and kissed Kara on the cheek. "Hi, sweetie." "Hi, honey," she purred. Except for Kelly Cullinane, who knew, and her brother Patrick--Kelly must've told him--every jaw at that table hit the floor! "Hey, I got you something," I said, digging into my lunch bag. I pulled out a plastic bag and plopped it in front of her. Hey, if I was going to be demonstrative... "I told you I could cook," I said with a grin. She opened the bag, and lit right up. "Chocolate chip cookies?" "With pecans." "My favorite!" she blurted, and took a bite of one. "They're good! You made these?" "Yup. And I made enough to keep you in 'em all week. I burnt the first pan, but I saved those for my brother." "You sweetie!" she said, kissing my cheek. Damn, she was pouring it on. I loved it! "Anyhow, there's a reason I asked you to eat with me today." I knew what was coming, but I just looked interested. "It's Sara's birthday today." "Well, happy birthday, Sara," I said pleasantly. "Thanks," she croaked. Everyone was still staring, shocked, at Kara and me--except for Kelly, who was suppressing a giggle fit. "Anyhow," Kara went on, "Sara's having a party on Saturday night. You up for it?" "Sounds good to me." The rest of the table just looked at us in shock. Finally, Danica Rosen found her vocal cords. "Waitaminnit--Kara, you're going out with him?" "Yup," she said. "But you told me you'd never go out with him in a million years!" "Changed my mind," Kara said. "And, boy, am I ever glad I did!" "This is the weirdest thing I've ever heard," Joe Vizcano, another one of her crowd that didn't like me much, said. "I know. I mean, really," Danica Rosen said. "You're actually going out with that?" "Kara, you're reputation's shot now, you know," Denise Bucher, another one, offered up. Kara was listening to all this with increasing dismay. She seemed surprised. I was not. She looked around the table and said, "I thought you guys were my friends." "We are," Danica said, "which is why we don't want to see you do something so stupid." "Why is it stupid?" Kara asked. "Because, well, look at him!" Danica said. "He's the biggest nerd in school!" It was time to say something, to take the heat off Kara, and hopefully, to make her smile, because she was getting agitated. "The biggest?" I said. "How does one get to become the biggest nerd in school? Was there a vote? Did I miss it? Frankly, I would've voted for Dick Capuano--he's far more of a nerd than I am. I might make top ten, but biggest?" Kara was chuckling--which was the idea--and poor Kelly was barely holding in the guffaws. "Look, Kara," Denise started, trying a different tack, "what can you possibly see in him?" "I bake her cookies," I said. "Yes, and he buys me Hershey's Kisses for Valentine's day," she said, grinning. "And I thought the way to a guy's heart was through his stomach," I laughed. She smiled at me, then turned back towards the table. "Look, I don't expect you to understand this--just accept it." After much under-the-breath grumbling, the matter was dropped. The rest of the lunch proceeded more-or-less peacefully. Did I think that this was it? No, I did not. Kara might have, but I didn't. It was very nice, in any case, to walk from lunch to English hand-in-hand with her. Walking into English was pretty cool, too--Stan noticed, and said, "You two?" "For a month now," Kara told him. "Cool!" Even Michelle Pepper gave her sign of approval. It was a very nice week. We acted, in school, like we had been out of school--as a couple. I loved every minute of it. Of course I wasn't going to get out of it completely unscathed. I'm not that lucky, not even in this life. ------- MARCH 18th, 1978 That afternoon, prior to the party, we went to the mall. We decided to get a birthday gift for Sara together. Kara knew what stores Sara liked to shop in, so that's where we went. I actually found the sweater we bought her. "I think this would look good on her," I told Kara. She agreed, teased me for being so good at picking out girls' clothes, and we bought it. I was nervous about the party. Kara sensed this and tried to calm me down, but I didn't share her optimism. "Look, after this party, nobody's going to question us being together," she said. Well, we'd see. I sensed the hostility right away. The Cullinane twins were friendly, but from the rest, hostility. We grabbed a couch and settled in. This was probably a tactical mistake. Kara wasn't mingling, which was noticed. She wasn't hanging out with Sara, Danica, and the rest, which was definitely noticed. They watched us warily for about an hour, I could tell. The tactics were predictable: divide and conquer. The girls came and asked Kara to go 'powder her nose'. It would've been bad form to refuse, so she went with them. I was keeping the couch warm, when here they came--Bob Golan, Joe Vizcano, Mark Adamopoulos, Jon Karalides, and Steve McCauley. Patrick Cullinane was there, too, but was hanging back. Bob sat down next to me. "Ed, listen. You know this is a mistake, don't you?" "Why?" I asked reasonably. "Because Kara needs someone her speed. You have to be able to see that." "Her speed, how, exactly?" I asked. "Her speed, her crowd, people that she hangs around with," Mark put in. "You're not her kind of people." "And who is?" I asked, guessing what the answer was going to be. I guessed right. "Don Nixon," Bob said. "Don's been waiting for her to realize what a mistake she made dumping him. You're in the way of that." "That's a 'mistake' she's never going to realize, whether or not I'm in the picture," I spat at him. "Don treated her like shit." "Don doesn't see it that way," Bob said. "We all thought they made a good couple." I changed tactics, and looked at Patrick, who was lurking around listening, uncomfortably. "Patrick. How long have you known?" I asked him. "Since the beginning," he grinned. "Kel told me." "And Kara's at your house a lot, correct?" "Sure, hanging with Kel." "Notice any difference in her in the last month and a half?" I asked. "Yes," he said firmly. "She's a lot happier. She wasn't happy with Don. She's very happy with you. And I don't just see that, I hear it. Kel told me that she thought that going out with you is the best decision Kara ever made." "See?" I said. "You are kidding, right?" Bob asked Patrick. "Nope," Patrick said. "Look, a lot of you might not see it, but I do. Eddie and I have had our differences in the past, but we've been friends for longer than that. He's basically a good guy. And I think he's good for Kara." "Well, of course she's happy now," Steve put in. "Eddie lets her walk all over him." "No, actually, I don't. It's pretty equal," I said. "I'm guessing he's right," Patrick said. "Look, you all know how I feel about her," I told them. "So, yes, I make sure I'm good to her. But I don't let her walk all over me. Furthermore, she doesn't even try. I just don't disrespect her or try to control her. She doesn't deserve that." Just then, Kara came around the corner. "Why thank you, sweetie," she said to me. "Hey, Bob? Out of my seat, huh?" Bob got up, not happy about it, and Kara settled in next to me. "So, were these guys giving you the same crap the girls were just giving me?" "I'm guessing so," I told her. "How I'm ruining my life by going out with you?" she laughed. "Well, in my case, it's that I am ruining your life by going out with you." "Ah," she laughed. "I guess we'll just have to both ruin my life, then." The collected vultures seemed to give up at this point. They all moved away, muttering--with a couple of exceptions. The Cullinane twins were plainly amused by all the fuss. And, surprisingly, Steve McCauley and Danica Rosen hung around. They grabbed a couple chairs and sat across from us. "Look--is this real?" Danica asked. "Yeah," Kara told her. "Look, Dani, I'm as surprised as you are. But it's real. Honestly." "Dani," I said, thinking about what I wanted to say, "look. I'm trying to make some changes, OK? Kara noticed, that's all." "Yeah," Kara agreed. "Remember how I told you he asked me out before, when I was going out with Don?" Danica nodded. "Remember I told me he called me on the phone and was his usual stammering self? Well, when he asked me out this time, he wasn't like that. He did it in person and was cool about it. I noticed the difference immediately. And when I hesitated, he talked me into it, and made a lot of sense doing it. I agreed to one date. We had a great time, so we didn't stop there." "Dani, I'm sick of being the school laughingstock," I told her. "I was scared of my own shadow. I'm tired of it. I decided to change some things. I knew why Kara wouldn't go out with me--so I fixed things." "He treats me like a princess, you know," Kara said, with a sweet little smile. They seemed to accept things a little better. Eventually they moved off, and Kara and I were sitting on the couch, just chatting happily. The next thing I knew, I was getting punched, full-force, in the face. I never saw it coming. It felt like a baseball bat had slammed into my nose. Then I got hit in the stomach. Then the face again. I was not ready for it. It distantly registered to me through the haze that poor Kara was screaming--and was covered in my blood. My whole face was exploding in pain and I couldn't breathe. Steve and Patrick pulled him off me. It was Kara's ex, Don Nixon. I should've known. Evidently--and I found this out later--there was a conspiracy with two different agendas. Sara had evidently invited him because she had designs on him and she was hoping that seeing Kara with a loser like me would turn Don off from Kara. But some of the guys talked to him, and convinced him that since Kara was with a loser like me, he could win her back. I'll give them all credit, though. I really don't think any of them thought he'd do what he did. It was chaos. My head was spinning. I could only see through a red haze and my stomach was going blllllppppp. Kara was screaming, Don was screaming, Sara's mother came storming in to see what had happened--but I had to get out of there. I stumbled out the front door, almost unnoticed. I threw up into Sara's mother's rose bushes. After that wonderful experience, I ended up sitting on the lawn--cold, in pain, and alone. Wasn't this where I came in? Things had gotten too easy. I thought I'd turned everything around. And now, here I was, having gotten my ass kicked, just like the first time around. Except, to my unending humiliation, this time was in front of Kara, my girlfriend. The chaos still raged inside the house, as far as I could hear. Then I heard the door open. "Eddie?" Kara said. "Here," I told her. She found me sitting on the lawn. She sat next to me. "I'm so sorry," she said. "What are you sorry for?" "For ever going out with that ass," she snorted. "I didn't think he'd ever do this, though. Are you OK?" "Not particularly." "I thought you had taken off," she said. "No, I had to come out here and throw up," I snorted. I couldn't help it. Despite my adult memories, I was reacting like a 13-year-old kid. Reacting the way I did the first time. I was ashamed and humiliated, and I felt the old self-loathing creeping back in. "Maybe I should just go home, though. You don't want to be seen with me after this." She looked right into my eyes. "Eddie, listen to me. You were attacked. He sucker-punched you. You didn't see it coming and had no chance to defend yourself. And everybody in that room knows it. Nobody thinks worse of you. In a fair fight, you'd probably take him. After all that weightlifting, you're stronger than he is." "I see what you're saying, but I can't help it. It just feels like before. And having it happen in front of you makes it worse. Jeez, I bled all over your shirt." She actually giggled! "A badge of honor, I'd say." I just shook my head in wonder. "You are something else." "I am, aren't I?" she giggled. Just then, Sara's mother came out of the house. "Are you OK?" she asked, coming out to us on the lawn. "I don't know. I'm sorry, but I threw up in your rose bushes." "Better there than on the couch," she laughed. She came over and looked at me. "Eddie, you might want to go to the hospital. Your nose might be broken." "I agree," Kara said. "We can either call your mother, or go fetch mine." "Mine's working--at the hospital, as a matter of fact." "Then we'll walk over to my house and have my mom bring us up," Kara said. Just then, Don came out, 'escorted' by Steve and Patrick, who were holding him by the arms. Don was plainly not happy, and was trying to get out of the grasp of the other two, who weren't letting it happen. "Hey, Ed," Patrick said, "before we get him out of here, you want a free shot?" "No," I said, looking at him in disgust. "I do not sucker-punch." Patrick and Steve looked at me with approval. "I'll tell you one thing, Nixon--if that little stunt was designed to get Kara back, then you don't know Kara at all. If you ever had a chance--which you didn't--you just destroyed it. She's not impressed at all." "Damn right," Kara agreed. "What are you doing with him?" I asked the guys. "We're taking him to my house and his mother's gonna get him there," Steve said. "And, she's not happy!" They went off up the street with him. "Come on," Kara said, and pulled me up by my hands. We started in the other direction, towards her house. Her mom drove me to the hospital, where they checked me out. Luckily, the nose wasn't broken, just messed up. Kara's mom drove me home after we talked to mine. Kara held my hand and stroked my shoulder the whole time, and kissed me goodnight--right in front of her mom! That helped a lot, but I was still shaky when I went to bed. ------- MARCH 20th, 1978 The worst part of Monday morning were the constant "What happened to you?" questions. Most of them I shrugged off. I told people like Beth and Stan, though. At lunch, Kara was waiting for me. "Will you come eat with me?" she asked. "I suppose," I said. "You don't want to eat with my friends." "I'm not thrilled with it," I admitted. "I think it'll be fine, but, I've never eaten with your friends. So we can do that today if you want. Who do you eat with?" "Stan Murvetsin. His pals Carl Morello and Rob Singleman. Sometimes Beth, and her best girlfriend Kerry Coombs join us." "Sound good," she said, and I led her over to my 'usual' table. Those people, including Beth and Kerry, were already there. "Hey, you guys know Kara, right?" I introduced her to those that didn't. Just as we settled in our seats, we had another visitor, Michelle Pepper. "You guys mind if I sit here? I usually eat with Chris Seneca, but she's out today." We welcomed her along. Shortly on her heels came the Cullinane twins and Danica Rosen. "So this is where you guys are hiding!" Kelly said to Kara and I. "We're gonna join you." "Please," Danica said. "I can't stand to watch Sara over there going all goo goo over Don Nixon. And Bob getting Don to talk about how he clobbered Eddie. Yeah, by sucker-punching him. How's your face?" she asked me. "Ugly as ever," I joked. "Nah, it's OK. It hurts some, but it's OK." "What are you going to do about Don?" Kelly asked me. "Not a thing. I don't have to. You see, when we leave the lunchroom, we have to walk right by his table. I'll just walk right by him, holding Kara's hand. That's all the revenge I need." "Eddie might have lost the battle--like you said, Dani, only from a sucker punch--but he won the war some time ago," Kara said with a grin. "Plus," I added to Dani and the Cullinanes, "the three of you. You all used to be friends. He might have impressed some of them, but he pissed the three of you off. He's grasping at straws, and he knows it. I don't have to do a thing to him." "Sometimes, you're too classy," Beth put in. "Hey. I know what's important. Well, I'm learning, anyway. How are you doing?" "I'm a little shaky today. Every few months, I have to go in for a little refresher dose of the chemo. Milder than the first batch, but it still makes me a little sick. I had it Friday." "Yeah, I thought you looked a little pale," I joked. Beth blinked, and then cracked up laughing. You have to understand, Beth was Sicilian. She was one of the darkest white people you'll ever see in your life. "A little pale?" she sputtered. "Even if such a thing were possible, how would you ever notice?" "You went from mocha to café au lait?" I said. That just made her laugh harder. I noticed a few people looking at this conversation with interest. A few people--Kara and Kelly mostly, and Beth's friend Kerry, of course--knew, but most of the people here didn't. Danica finally asked. "Chemo?" As I said, Beth didn't keep it a secret. "I have leukemia," she said simply. "Oh," Danica said. "I'm in remission at the moment," Beth went on. "They give me little chemo boosts to keep me there, as long as I can." After that sobering little thought, the conversation changed to other subjects. At one point, we were discussing Kara's relationship with me. "You know what's funny?" Beth asked. "I've been Eddie's best friend since infancy. I've had to listen to him blabber about Kara for two years. And when they finally start going out, does he tell me? NO! I had to hear about it from Kara!" "Well, she wanted it kept a secret," I said. "Not from Beth, you big goof," Kara teased. "Hell, Kelly knew." "You're hopeless," Beth said to me, laughing. "You'd better watch out for him, Kara, he's completely hopeless." "I keep him in line. It's a job, but someone has to do it," Kara teased. "If you'll all excuse me," I said in mock-indignation, "I'm going to crawl under the table until you're finished." "I wouldn't," Stan interjected. "Kara will probably make you kiss her toes." "Hmm, that's an idea," Kara purred. "Oh, thanks, Murvetsin. You'll get yours." "Well, that could be fun," Stan mused. "Depends on who I'm gonna get mine from." "I vote for Michelle," I said, pointing at her. She blushed bright red. Hmmm, what was going on there? Stan chuckled. "The Sarge? I'll kiss her toes any day." Michelle really blushed at that! "Sarge?" Kelly asked. "This is what happens when your last name is Pepper and you get stuck in an English class with two Beatles freaks," Michelle said, bemused. "You get renamed Sergeant Pepper." "Does that make the rest of us the Lonely Hearts Club Band?" Danica joked. "Yes," Stan said. "Well, except for those two," he joked, pointing at Kara and me. This started a trend, and a welcome one. That group of people ate lunch together for the rest of eighth grade, most days. After a week or so, Steve McCauley joined us, too. It was great. I felt like, besides the greatest girlfriend in the world, I had a good group of friends. It was a very welcome development. ------- Chapter 4: Baby, Even The Losers, Get Lucky Sometimes APRIL 14/15, 1978 In reliving my life, I was gradually creating an agenda for myself. Some of the stuff was major, but some was minor. I suppose Bruce Springsteen could be considered minor, but hey. It was important to me. I didn't want to go until 1999 before seeing Bruce play live, as I had the first time. I knew that he had played Boston for three nights at the end of May, 1978. Now, with a second chance, I wanted to go. I listened to WBCN, and, in April, they announced it. Three shows at the Boston Music Hall (later renamed the Wang Center--I had seen REM there in 1986 the first time around). The tickets would go on sale Saturday, April 15th. Kara, who I'd introduced to Bruce some, wanted to go, too. The problem was this--tickets. This was in the days before getting tickets over the phone or the internet. You had to go get them at the box office. For a guy of Bruce's stature, playing a small venue--even if he was playing three shows there--this meant camping out. If you wanted to make sure you got tickets, that is. Camping out in Boston to get Springsteen tickets? Well, there was a slight problem with that--I was 13. My parents were not in favor of this idea. Neither were Kara's. Despairing, I happened to make one more plea for permission to do it, at a time when my Mom was visiting with my Aunt Molly, who'd come over for a chat. This turned out to be the stroke of luck I needed. Enter Cousin Sandy, Aunt Molly's oldest daughter. She was 21, in college, responsible--she'd babysat for us in the past. The family trusted her. She was, unbeknownst to me--even in my other life--a big Springsteen fan. She and her boyfriend Chuck were planning on driving home from Umass to camp out for tickets. They could've just gotten the tickets for us, but Sandy thought it would be cool if we came and camped with them. My parents readily agreed. Kara's parents were a tougher nut to crack, but my Mom called Mrs. Pocharsky and told her that Sandy was responsible and trustworthy. They agreed. So, on the evening of Friday, April 14th, Sandy came and picked me up. Then she headed to Kara's house. She, being responsible, went in and met Kara's parents, again reassuring them that she'd watch out for us. Then we headed to Boston. Chuck, Sandy's boyfriend, met us there. It was a grand adventure for two 13-year-old kids. Kara was just thrilled. As an added bonus, she and Sandy got on very well. Sandy was always cool. She never treated me like she was 8 years older than I was, and she didn't now. She was 'responsible' for us, but she didn't act like it. After chatting and stuff, and meeting some of the other Springsteen fanatics in line, we settled down for the night. We'd all brought sleeping bags. Kara, however, had a problem. It had been warm when we left so she'd only worn a fairly thin jacket. The temperature had dipped considerably. She got in her sleeping bag, but, after a few minutes, said, "I'm cold. I knew I should've brought a warmer jacket." "I wish I had an extra." I was wearing a sweatshirt, which was warm enough, but I only had a short-sleeve shirt on underneath it--if I gave it to her, I'd be absolutely freezing. But I offered anyhow. "You want my sweatshirt? I can live without it." "No, you'll freeze to death." She thought for a minute, then said, "Your sleeping bag's pretty big, isn't it?" "Yeah," I told her. "Well, uh, do you think I could fit in it with you? You know, body heat." My body got real hot at that! But I played it cool. "I think so." She got out of hers, and crawled over to mine. I unzipped it, and she crawled in. She zipped it back up. She had her back to me, and she snuggled her back into my chest. I tentatively put my arm around her waist, and she sighed and put her hand over mine. "Oh, that's much better," she whispered. "Hey," Sandy called over, having seen all this, "aren't I supposed to be chaperoning you two or something?" "Lay off it, Sandy, we're both fully clothed," I said with a grin. "I know," Sandy laughed, "I'm just teasing." Kara just giggled and snuggled deeper into me. There was a problem with that. I was lying there with a girl in my arms, a girl I was nuts about. She was snuggled tight to me. I was 13. Guess what happened? An inevitable physical reaction, especially at that age, but I was quietly trying to move my crotch back from Kara's ass so she wouldn't notice. She was having none of it. "Where are you going?" she said, and snuggled back into me. Thunk--right on my raging hard-on. No doubt in my mind she felt it. Which she quickly confirmed--to my shock--by grinding her ass into my boner and purring, "Hmm, is that for me?" I was stunned. I thought she'd be offended. I guess I was wrong about a few things. I'd always been under the impression from the first go-round that Kara was a 'good girl.' I'd never gotten the chance to be this close to her, mind you, but that was my impression. And here she was grinding on my boner and purring! "Uh, well, ummm..." was all I could get out. "I think I'm flattered," she giggled, and ground into my crotch again! "Please don't do that," I begged. "Why not?" I blurted it out without thinking. "Because you're going to cause me to make a mess in my pants and I don't have a change of underwear!" Now, after I had said it, I definitely thought that would offend her. She just laughed. "God, I thought you'd be offended," I said. "Well, I know enough to know it's a natural reaction. And I am flattered. I'm also not a prude. And I feel, I don't know, very comfortable lying with you like this. I trust you, you know, completely. I know you'd never try to force anything, that you'll always let us go at my pace." "True." "And I've been thinking about that lately. My pace. I think it's too slow," she giggled. "Huh?" "We'll talk later. This isn't the time or place. OK?" "OK," I said, but there was a definite huge hint there. Our pace was, basically, nonexistant. We'd done nothing but kiss. We haven't really even ever made out properly. I was letting her set the pace, she was right about that, and I was content. I asked her, though, "Have I been too unaggressive?" "Not at all," she said. "Like I said, I appreciate you not being all hands." "OK." "I'm sure, though, that if I try to push things, you won't object." "Most likely not," I laughed. "Good," she said, and then grabbed my hand--the one around her waist--and pulled it up so it was resting right on her boob! Then she pushed on my hand with her own! "Ooh, that's nice," she sighed. I gently fondled her boob for a while--dumbfounded--and she sighed a bit. "This was as far as Don and I ever went, you know. And he practically tried to rip them off. This is much nicer," she said, with another sigh. "This is a first for me," I said shakily. Well, in this body, anyway. And it certainly felt like a first, even if my memories told me otherwise. "You're doing fine. Feels good," she said dreamily. She ran her hand up and down my arm as I gently rubbed her boob. She fully relaxed into me, sighing and humming. She was really enjoying this. That made me feel ten feet tall. After a while, she pulled my hand away. "As wonderful as that was, Eddie, we do really have to get some sleep. Which isn't going to happen, at least for me, if you keep doing that!" "Sleep? I'm supposed to sleep now?" I sputtered. "You'll manage," she giggled. "I'll try." I kissed the back of her neck, eliciting another deep sigh. "Night, love," I told her. "Night, sweetie." I was wrong. I slept like a baby. When I woke up, my hand was around her boob again. "You awake?" I asked quietly. "Yeah," she whispered back. "Who do you think put your hand back there?" she giggled. "I thought I might have done it in my sleep." "Nope, even in your sleep, you're a gentleman," she giggled. "I did it after I woke up." "You are a constant surprise," I told her. She spun around in the sleeping bag so that she was now facing me. Grinning, she said, "Kiss me!" I gladly complied, slipping my hand down to her breast as our mouths ground together, shielded by the flap of the sleeping bag. She opened her mouth a bit, and I gently snaked my tongue inside. She devoured it. I let my hand creep up between our bodies and wrap itself around her breast as she sucked on my tongue. We went on like this for a few minutes, before we heard a soft but definite throat-clearing above us. I peeked out of the sleeping bag and saw Sandy sitting next to us, clearly bemused. "Now, now, you guys aren't going to force me to play chaperone, are you?" she said with a grin. "Ah, you're no fun," I mock-pouted. "Yeah, yeah," she laughed. "Seriously, Chuck's gonna go to Dunkin' Donuts. You guys want anything?" I requested a coffee, and Kara a tea. I tried to give Chuck some money, but he laughed and said he had it covered. Kara and I got out of the sleeping bag, and sat on top of it. "I must look a sight," Kara grumbled. "You're beautiful," I reassured her. "And you are biased," she giggled. She grabbed her bag and started rummaging through it, emerging with a hairbrush. "I know I need to do this," she said. With her hair, she was probably right. It was long, halfway down her back, and straight. At that length, it probably tangled easily. She took the hairbrush into her hand, and stared at it. "Darn," she said, "I brought the hairbrush but forgot a mirror. How am I going to do this without a mirror?" I think Sandy was about to offer to help, but I silenced her with a look. I moved so that I was sitting right behind Kara, and gently took the hairbrush out of her hand. "Ed, honey, I really need to..." "Shh," I interrupted her--and started brushing her hair. I could feel her jerk of surprise, and then she sighed, deeply, as I pulled the brush through her long locks. Luckily, it wasn't tangled that badly, so I didn't have to pull too hard. Brushing someone else's hair is kind of delicate, and I didn't want to hurt her. Since it wasn't that tangled, I didn't have to. I couldn't see Kara's face, brushing her from behind. Sandy could, and was looking on in complete amusement. Though I couldn't see Kara's face, I could hear her little sighs as I worked my way through her hair. When I finally did make it around to her front, so I could do her bangs, she looked up at me with the most adoring smile I'd ever seen. I finished up her bangs, getting that little smile the whole time. When I was done, I chuckled and said, "There you go, beautiful as ever." I handed her the hairbrush and she tucked it back into her bag. Then she leaned into me and hugged me gently. I think she wanted to do more, but the other folks in the line were starting to stir so we would've had an audience. So, she just gave me a little hug, and whispered in my ear, "Thank you. That was so romantic I can't tell you!" After a bit, Kara wandered off to the bathroom (the Music Hall had made those available to those of us waiting in line). When she was gone, Sandy plopped down next to me. "You romantic devil, you!" she laughed. "You should've seen the look on her face while you were brushing her hair. Pure bliss." "Good," I laughed. "You two are such a cute couple," she laughed. "Glad you think so!" Kara came back, as did Chuck with the coffees and stuff. We gathered our stuff up and prepared for the box office to open. When it did, we got tickets for May 31st--which was a Wednesday night, so a school night for us. Both my parents and Kara's knew this, and since neither of us were in any trouble academically, nobody minded. The funny thing was, in my 'old' life, I'd owned a bootleg of that May 31st show! Chuck headed off, and Sandy drove us back, dropping Kara off and then me. But it was still early, so I made plans to walk back to Kara's after we had showered and changed clothes and all that. It was a pretty warm day. We decided to go for a walk, with no particular destination in mind. We were heading in the general direction of the shopping center, but then I got a brainstorm. We veered off, and headed into a park--one with two baseball fields, where I had played Little League. Kara looked at me quizzically, but allowed me to lead her into the park. We were holding hands. "I remember seeing you play a Little League game here a couple years ago, when you were on the same team as my brother," she said. "Yeah," I laughed, "and I was trying so hard to impress you, and I sucked. That year was my best year ever in baseball--but do you realize that the only game that I didn't get at least one hit in was the one you came to?" She laughed. "Good thing I didn't come to every game, you would've had an awful year." "True. But it would've been worth it." She laughed again. "I just figured it out. That year of playing Little League with David, that's how my mother knows you." I nodded. "You know, she always told me I should go out with you." "She did?" "Yeah. I'd complain about you, and she'd say, 'Why don't you give him a chance? He's a nice boy.' Of course, your mother wanting you to date someone isn't the world's greatest advertisement for the idea." "I suppose not," I chuckled. "But I started to rethink that, because she warned me about Don first time she met him. 'That guy is bad news, ' she told me. She's not the type to force me into anything, so she didn't do anything about it. She figures I have to learn from my own mistakes. But she did warn me, and she was right." We were walking through one of the baseball fields. At the back of it, woods rose up. We headed up the path through the woods, and started climbing. This was Braddox Hill. It wasn't a huge hill, so it was an easy climb. But it was fairly isolated, and there were trees and such up on the top of it. In other words, we could find a place up there and not be bothered, and we'd be able to hear anyone else coming up the hill. As an added bonus, from the top you got a great view of the eastern half of Cabot. We got up there, and Kara immediately picked up on that. "Wow, what a view!" she exclaimed. "I love it up here," I told her. "So," she grinned, "did you just bring me up here to show me the view?" "Well, not really. I was trying to find a place where we could be alone. Is that OK?" "Perfectly," she said. "I don't mind you being a little aggressive. I mean, it's not like you're ripping my clothes off." "I'd never rip. Gently remove, maybe, but never rip," I joked. She giggled, which was the desired response. "Maybe someday I'll let you," she laughed. "But, for now, since you went to all this trouble to get me up here--kiss me!" I did, long and hard. We started standing up, but somehow wound up lying on the grass, passionately necking. I let my hand drift down to her boob again. She pressed her boob into my hand harder, and deepened the kiss. Her mouth opened, and my tongue went exploring. Then her tongue went exploring. We did this for a good, long while before we came up for air. "Wow! You can really kiss!" Kara said, surprised. "You're pretty awesome yourself," I told her. I leaned back down and kissed her again. We did this for a while, our mouths crushed together, my hand on her boob. After a while, she disengaged and sat up. She seemed distracted. "There's something I have to tell you. The letter was in the mail this morning when I got home." She took a deep breath. "I'm definitely boarding at Andrews." "I figured as much." "They came up with enough financial aid, so that we can pay for it all." She sighed. "And, all of a sudden, I don't want to go." "Look, Kara, don't say that because of me." "Eddie, I'm going to be thirty miles away! We're too young to drive. I've talked to some students there, it's not that easy to just come home for the weekend. We're never going to see each other, except on breaks!" "I know. We can write, and call." "I know, but, well... I mean... I don't want... oh, this is too hard!" "Look," I said, taking her hand and looking into her eyes, "we have four and a half months before this happens. I've always known that in September, it's going to be over, at least temporarily. There is absolutely no way I'd even think of asking you to spend your high school years as a hermit, faithful to some guy you never see. It's not fair." "You mean that?" she said. "What if I want to be faithful?" "Will you? I doubt it," I told her. "You might at first, but it won't last. We're too young. You'll be all of fourteen when you leave, and I'll still be thirteen." "True," she admitted. "We have four and a half months. When the time comes, then we'll talk about it. I told you once before, anything we have together is a bonus in my mind." "You'd let me go?" "I'd let you go. Would you let me go?" "Yes," she said. "You're right, it wouldn't be fair. But what happens to us?" "At the very least, we'll be the best of friends. As for anything else, who knows what the future holds?" "OK," she said, finally smiling. "But I plan to keep my arms around you for the rest of those four and a half months." "You'd better!" APRIL 19th, 1978 This was the day that my running battle with my English teacher, Mrs. Sinclair, came to a head. I had done some scouting around and I found a publishing house which, every year, published a collection of fiction by high school students. Even though I technically was still in junior high, I was still eligible, if I found something good enough to get in. Frankly, I was a little wary--because of my particular situation. If I submitted something, would that be dishonest? I mean, was I really a 13-year-old eighth grade student? I almost felt like it would be cheating. Luckily, I saved everything. And I found something I had written in September, before the recycling. In other words, it was written purely by a twelve-year-old boy. And I thought it was good, so I submitted it. I had found out on the eighteenth that it had been accepted. The kicker? Sinclair had given me a C on the thing--and now it was getting published! Oh, I loved every minute of it. I'd realized that Sinclair, in my previous life, had done a number on my confidence. I basically stopped writing fiction after her class--and didn't start again until my mid-thirties, when I found out I was good at it. I hadn't been published except on the internet. but, when I was recycled, I had been considering giving it a shot. I don't completely blame Sinclair for my abandoning writing for twenty years, but she had a part in it. I was a straight-A student. I did not get C's. Getting C's on all my compositions in her class affected me. Now, having more of my wits about me, I had the perfect comeuppance. I walked into class. "Hey, Mrs. Sinclair, have you ever heard of The Anthology of High School Fiction?" "Of course," she said. "I'm going to be in it, the next edition," I grinned. "WHAT? You're kidding." "Nope. They're publishing this." I handed it to her, with the big huge C in her little red pen on the top. Stan, Kara, and the rest were all congratulating me. Sinclair's eyes were bugging out. "You're lying," she said. "Why the hell would I lie about something like that?" I said. "It comes out in a few months, and you'd easily be able to check. Besides, I have the acceptance letter here." I showed it to her. She was just out of her mind. "Is that something you did for class?" Kara asked. "Yeah, back at the beginning of the year. She gave me a C on it, and now these other folks want to publish it!" I was having a hard time holding back my mirth. Kara, catching it, gave me a huge grin. "Well, they must have different criteria than I do," Mrs. Sinclair said. "Yeah, they know good writing. You don't," I said pointedly. "I hope you thank God for tenure every night, because, without it, you wouldn't have a job." Kara had gotten the paper back and was reading it. While Sinclair fumed, Kara looked at me and said, "This is really good. It deserves to be published. Better than anything I've ever written." "Yeah, and you get A's," I teased her. Sinclair then told everyone to settle down, and started class. At the end, she told me to stay a minute. "Mr. Bovilas, I have had it with the lack of respect you give me..." I cut her off. "What have you done to earn one iota of my respect?" This was similar to the blow-out we had had the first time around, except I hadn't had the publishing ammunition that time. "You are the single worst teacher I've ever had--and I had Mrs. Hanratty for English last year and she was drunk half the time! You're still worse! You wouldn't know good writing if it bit you on the ass. And you disrespect me. Plus, you're sexist. You don't have any business being in this job." "I AM THE TEACHER! YOU ARE THE STUDENT!" she screeched. "Hey, it's not my fault some idiot decided to hire you to teach. I didn't have anything to do with that. I'm not your student, because that would imply that I've learned something in this class, which I have not. Unless you count how easy it is to get tenure in this school system. Outside of that, you haven't taught me a thing. I'm just forced to be stuck in your class every day." She started to say something. "Oh, one other thing. The administration has been informed of my achievement in getting my work published. And they also know what grade you originally gave me on that composition. I'd be real careful with my grades the rest of the year, if I were you. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to get to algebra. Mr. Henry can teach." And I stormed out. Kara, Michelle, and Stan were all waiting when I bounded out of the room. They all gave me an ovation! MAY 6th, 1978 This was a Saturday and Kara and I, as usual, had a date. It had been three weeks since we had gone up Braddox Hill. We'd gone back the next week. The week after that, we went on an actual date again. I thought we were going to go to the movies on this day. Kara had other plans. She told me she wanted to go to lunch with me. What she neglected to mention is that she meant a picnic. She met me in front of her house at noon, with a picnic basket filled with sandwiches and other goodies, and a big blanket. "Braddox Hill, if you please," she giggled. We went up, and spread out the blanket. We ate the goodies she had packed, laughing and chatting. Then we put the picnic basket out of the way and spread out on the blanket, kissing and fondling. Suddenly, she said, "Hold on," and sat up. She looked at me intently, and then said, "I want to do something." She took a deep breath, smiled at me, and brought her hands to the top button of her blouse. And started unbuttoning it! I was shocked. Her hands--shaking a bit--slowly worked their way down the row of buttons. I noticed the shaky hands, and said to her, "You don't have to do this." "I want to," she said determinedly. "You're shaking." "I'm nervous. I've never done this before. But I want to. Going through my shirt and bra isn't enough anymore." She had gotten to the end of the row of buttons, and shrugged her blouse off. She looked at me with a little half-smile, covered above the waist in just a bra. Her hands still shaking a bit, she went to reach behind her. "Would you like me to do that?" I asked, softly. "Do you want to?" she replied, just as softly. "Yes." She beamed at me, and dropped her hands. I moved over to her and reached behind her. I could feel her breath against my neck as I reached around her. Even as an adult, I wasn't the king of the bra strap uncoupling, but I managed. I got it undone, and slowly pulled the bra off of her as I backed away from her. She smiled at me, and blushed a little as she sat there, naked from the waist up. "My God, you're so beautiful," I whispered. Her blush deepened, just a bit. She was magnificent. At 13, she wasn't huge, about a B-cup, but they were certainly big enough, as well as firm and pert. I reached out and took one in my hand. This was about out of my wildest dreams, and it was strange how I was affected. I seemed to remember things, which means I wasn't fumbling about like a typical 13-year-old grabbing his first bare tit. Outside of that, I was that 13-year-old. I was nervous, excited, hard as a rock. I fondled her boob, rubbing her nipple--which rapidly got erect--with my fingers and thumb. She sighed, and then leaned over and kissed me. The kiss was gentle, slow, like she was trying to savor it--and also savor my hand on her boob. I nibbled on her lips as I fondled her boob. I looked down at her erect nipple. I wanted a taste; so I leaned over and took her nipple into my mouth. "Oh GOD!" she hissed, as she ran her hand through my hair. She had been sitting, but she tilted backwards, lying down on the blanket, pulling me with her. I worked over her boob with my mouth while I rubbed the other one with my hand. She gasped as her hand ran wildly through my hair. I did this for a few minutes, reveling in it. Even after this, what she did next shocked me. One of her hands left my hair--and went down to my crotch, and rubbed my hard-on through my jeans. Then, before I knew it, her hand was clawing at the button on my jeans! "Kara?" I said. "I wanna see it," she said, as she popped the button open. She sat up--pushing me away from her boob--and tugged at my zipper. I helped her slip my pants off, still incredulous that this was happening. She got my pants off, and then my underwear. My dick popped out, and her eyes got real big. Believe me, I wasn't all that big in adulthood, much less when I was 13. But Kara hissed out a "Wow!" when she saw it. "God, it's so hard!" she whispered. "Can I?" she asked, reaching her hand out. She had to ask? "Sure," I said. She touched it, and gasped as it jumped a bit. She tentatively wrapped her hand around it. "Ooooh!" she hissed. "It feels... wow!" She slowly started to slide her hand up and down my dick. "Is this all right?" she asked. "Yes," I managed. "If I keep this up, are you gonna, you know--cum?" "Most definitely," I sighed. She giggled, and kept at it. Seeing her sitting there, her hand gently moving up and down my cock, naked from the waist up; it was the sexiest thing I'd ever seen. That, combined with the fact that this body was most definitely thirteen, meant one thing--this was going to be quick. I was right. It took less than a minute before I groaned, "Kara!" and came all over her hand. That made her giggle again. She looked at her hand, still giggling, and then looked at me. "That was so neat! You should've seen the expression on your face!" She reached around her for the picnic basket. "Good thing I brought napkins. Of course, I thought I brought them for the sandwiches," she said, wiping her hand, still giggling. I sat up, recovered now, and looked at her. Her eyes were twinkling. It was strange. She seemed older and younger than 13, at the same time. As I said before, Kara was pretty reserved and very mature. The way she was approaching this whole thing was mature-but she also had an air of almost childlike wonder at the whole thing. And she wasn't being reserved at all. She was still grinning at me, but the grin faded, just a bit, and she blushed. "That was the first time, you know." "Me, too," I grinned. I leaned over to her and kissed her, then I pushed her down so she was on her back. As I kissed her, my hand went to her pants. "What are you doing?" she hissed. "Returning the favor," I whispered. "I'm going to do to you what you just did to me--that's all. Don't worry." "Uh, okay," she said shakily, and watched as I undid her button. I pulled her zipper down, and tugged on her jeans. She raised her hips up so I could get them off. Then came the panties. I pulled back and looked at her, and my breath caught. "Wow," was all I could get out around the baseball-sized lump in my throat. Kara was 13--well, she'd be 14 in about a month--and, in some ways, she had a 13-year-old body. The firmness of her breasts; the narrowness of her waist; the sparse, downy hair surrounding her pussy-all spoke to her age. Her hips, however, already had a prominent, womanly swell, as did her ass. And the coral lips of her pussy were swollen. I could see the abundant moisture gathered on them. I looked at her for a full minute. She looked back, her blush spreading from her face to her breasts. "Wow," I repeated. Her blush deepened. She was completely naked, except for her socks--I wasn't. I still had my shirt on. I got rid of it, quickly. I wanted to feel her, skin-to-skin. I moved closer and embraced her, our lips meeting. I ran my hands all over her body--her breasts, her stomach, up and down her legs--everywhere except there. I was working up to this. The body might be 13--and was acting it, I felt like I was going to blow again just from touching her--but the mind still remembered a few tricks. After running my hands all over her body, I broke the kiss and rasped, "I want to touch you." "Yes," she hissed. My hand lingered on the inside of her thigh for a moment, then moved up. She spread her legs. She was absolutely drenched. I couldn't believe how wet she was! I moved my finger up and down her labia, spreading her moisture out. She groaned, and grabbed onto my shoulders. I worked my fingers up and down a bit, then explored her opening. I circled the outside a bit, then dipped my finger in--not much, just the tip. Knowing she was a virgin, I didn't want to go too far. She groaned deeper. I rubbed my finger just inside the opening. "More," she moaned. "I can't," I said. "You're a virgin." "Not... that way," she got out. "Tampon. Years ago. More!" Understanding, I pushed my finger in further, slowly. She kept groaning. I felt my finger almost being sucked into her pussy. I pushed it in all the way. "God!" she gasped. She put her arms around my shoulders and buried her face in my neck. I was on top of her, at an angle, my right hand buried in her pussy, her face buried in my left shoulder. I curled my finger upwards, looking for her g-spot. Judging from the shuddering groan I felt into my neck, I found it. I moved my finger in and out, dragging over the spot as I did. Her breathing got ragged and her hands around my back clenched at the skin. I sat up. She looked at me, a bit disappointed, but I just smiled at her. I pulled my finger out of her pussy. She groaned, but only for a minute, as I slid back into her, using my left hand this time. I moved it in and out again, watching her get worked up. Then I took the finger on my right hand and swiped it up her labia, like before. Except, this time, I made sure I flicked her clit on the way up. "Oh God yes! Right there!" she gasped. I moved my finger in and out of her, as my other hand gently worked over her clit. I could sense her getting closer--then I got an idea. I quickly dropped my hands from her pussy. She was about to say something, but, before she got the chance, I dropped my face between her legs. Before she even knew what was going on, I wrapped my tongue around her clit. "GOD! WHAT? GOD!" she panted--and then came, spectacularly, her ass coming a good foot off the ground. I let her come down, gently nuzzling her. Then I started in again, with long slow strokes up her pussy, letting her become aroused again before I headed for her clit. In return, I got a litany. "God! God! Oh! God! Eddie! Oh, God!" with every lick. It was fantastic. In the first go-round, I'd always loved this. I was good at it, too--probably the only way I managed to stay married to a closet lesbian for twelve years! But that time, I hadn't discovered it until I was 18. I had just given myself a five-year head start on pussy licking. This was a very good thing! Even though I felt like a 13-year-old--judging from Kara's reaction, I was still good at it, which means the memory was working. Believe me, this is one memory I absolutely wanted to work! As Kara exploded in a second mind-numbing orgasm, I couldn't help but laugh to myself. I was probably spoiling the poor girl. When she went away to boarding school next year, where was she going to find a 14-year-old who was willing--not to mention, able--to suck pussy? I climbed up beside her--if I went for three, I'd probably put her brain into orbit--and waited for her to come down. As her eyes fluttered open, I grinned at her. "OK, well, so I didn't do exactly the same thing to you as you did to me." "That was the most incredible experience of my entire life," she intoned. Hearing that from her gave me goose-bumps. "What made you think of that?" she asked. I told her a half-truth. "My Dad gets Playboy and Penthouse, and leaves 'em lying around. You can learn a lot. Especially the Penthouse Forum." Which was true, and had been true the first time. Though that time I didn't have any hands-on--or should I say tongue-on--experience, I knew what it was from the magazines. "I think I need a subscription," she laughed. "Eddie? I want you." Did that mean what I thought it meant? It did. "I want to, you know, do it. Go all the way." JESUS CHRIST ALMIGHTY! I was being offered Kara Pocharsky's virginity! I'd spent three years dreaming of this the first time around. My God, I wanted to pinch myself. And then the sane, adult part of my brain kicked in. I halfway couldn't believe it myself, but I found myself turning her down. "That's a bad idea," I said. "You don't want me?" she pouted. "Are you kidding? The ground is spinning, I want you so bad," I said, completely truthfully. She giggled. "But you can't make that decision in the heat of passion. You need to think about this, Kara. If we do this, it would kill me if you regretted it later." "I am thinking about it and I won't regret it," she said. "But there's one other problem. I'm not prepared for this." "Seems pretty prepared to me," she smirked, tugging on my dick--which was hard enough to drill through rock at that moment. But I couldn't lose my resolve; it was too important. Damn adult brain. "No, that's not what I mean. I mean, I'm not prepared to keep you from getting pregnant." "Oh," she said, her face falling. "Can you get some?" "Yeah." "By next weekend?" "Sure. However, you need to think about this. You tell me Monday. If you still want to do this, I'll take care of it." "OK, but I will," she said. She reached for her clothes and started putting them on. I did the same. "You amaze me," she said. "Huh?" "You've been in love with me for ages. And I just told you I wanted to have sex. And you turned me down." "You're right, I love you. Which means the absolute last thing I'd ever want to do is hurt you. Causing you to have regrets would hurt you. Getting a smart, talented girl like you pregnant at this age would really hurt you." "You are too good to be true," she said. "Nah," I demurred. "You are." We were both dressed by now, She wrapped her arms around me and kissed me, and then she said, "Ed Bovilas, I love you. I will never forget this day, as long as I live, and for more than one reason. You are something special." ------- I like to think I would've been that responsible even if presented with this situation the first time around. I don't know for sure, because it was never tested. But I like to think I would've been. I was just glad I was this responsible now. Believe me, it was tough. Physically--and a big chunk of mentally--I was a teenaged boy. And I'd just turned down sex with my dream girl. I did the right thing, I know it. But, I won't lie--I was ferverently hoping she wouldn't change her mind before the next weekend! MAY 13th, 1978 She didn't change her mind. She came up to me on the bus Monday afternoon, and said, "Did you get them?" "Not yet. I told you, I was going to talk to you first, to make sure you still wanted to." "Oh, do I ever!" The next day, she had an even bigger surprise. She got on the bus, obviously excited, but we couldn't talk there. When we got off the bus, she pulled me over to the side before first bell sounded. "Guess what?" she asked, almost breathless. "My parents are going away this weekend. Furthermore, my brother's spending the weekend with his best friend, and my sister's going over my grandmother's. We have the house all to ourselves!" "Wow!" "Tell me about it. All Mom said was not to have any parties. They trust me. They're not stupid, I'm sure they know I'm going to have you over." She giggled. "I'll bet they have no idea what we're going to be doing, though!" I thought about that one after we had gone into school. That hadn't really occurred to me. We were about to do something that would make our parents freak if they found out. Hers, for sure--and mine, probably only a little less so, especially my mother. How did I feel about that? More to the point, how did the adult responsible part of my brain feel about that? It didn't care. I'd always said that if I ever had kids, I was going to be very liberal when it came to sex. If my parents--and hers, for that matter--weren't, that was their fault. Kara and I were smart. We were being careful and responsible. There wasn't any coercion involved, she wanted this as much as I did. Yeah, we were young, but who cared? What was going to happen? People talk about not being able to handle it emotionally. Fuck that. Kara was more emotionally healthy than most adults, and I was getting there. So, it came down to societal and religious reasons. You know, 'good girls' don't do that, especially Catholic good girls. I had no use for that bullshit, even in adulthood. So, no, the responsible adult part of me didn't care what parents thought, because I didn't recognize any objections they might have as valid. We certainly weren't going to let them find out, that's for sure. Thinking about that as I got off the bus, I realized I had another problem. I'd blithely told Kara that getting rubbers wouldn't be a problem. I hadn't thought that one through, though. I was used to my adult life, which were the days of the big pharmacy chains, the Walgreens and all that. Not in 1977, not in my neck of the woods. Drug stores were neighborhood mom-and-pop operations. And the rubbers, of course, were behind the counter. Not appealing. Especially when you consider that there was a drugstore my family went to regularly. It was on Border Street, halfway between Kara's house and mine. The problem was, the place was run by a friend of the family. He knew me, and knew my parents quite well. That wasn't going to fly. I could just see it now: "Oh, hi, Mr. Dalossio. Yes, I'm fine, my parents are well, they told me to say hi. Could I have a box of rubbers, please?" Right. Wasn't going to happen. Luckily, there was another one, I remembered. A little bit further away in another direction, but close enough. And this one was in the Portuguese section of town. I went in, and the lady behind the counter barely spoke English. She didn't know me from Adam, which is what I was looking for. I went to the counter, pointed at what I wanted, and paid for it. Yeah, she shot me a dirty look, but I could live with that. I talked with Kara on the phone that night. "Got 'em," was all I said about it. She was very happy. So, Saturday dawned. I walked to Kara's house about noontime, the condoms burning a hole in my pocket. I thought about this. I had pushed the first-cunnilingus up five years from the first go-round. Now I was about to push the loss-of-virginity up nine years. More important than that was who I was going to do it with. This was a dream come true. I got to Kara's door, she let me inside, and then practically tackled me, giggling all the while. We ended up on the couch, kissing and groping a bit. "Now, you're sure about this?" I asked her. "Yes. You seem unsure," she said. "No, I'm worried about you. It's awfully quick--and, to be honest, I never expected to get this far with you." She got a serious expression on her face and looked at me. "Eddie, I'll admit it. I'm rushing this, and I know it. We're too young for this. I know that. But, in less than four months, we're going to be separated. We'll have no way to see each other, so who knows what's going to happen. And I want you to be my first. I really want you to be my first. The first time is kind of scary for a girl. Somehow, with you, it's not. Plus, I love you. I want this." "I love you, too. And I want this, too. I just wanted you to be sure." "I'm sure," she said, and stood up. She held out her hand and I took it, standing up myself. Then she led me to her bedroom. We sat on her bed, kind of looking at one another nervously; and then we kissed. It was remarkable how quickly things went from there. Clothes were flying all over the place. Before I knew it, we were still kissing, but we were stark naked. One of my hands was on her boob, the other lightly stroking her pussy, with one of hers gripping my dick. "I want to repay the favor first," she said. "Hmmm?" "What you did to me last week. I want to do it to you." I had a glimmer of what she was talking about, and she confirmed it. She leaned over and ran her tongue right up my dick. Kara tentatively took the head into her mouth and began to gently suck on it. Her hand still gripped the shaft. My GOD. I'd had blowjobs before, the first time around, but nothing like this. She was inexperienced, had no idea what she was doing, was experimenting--and it was still fantastic. She slid her lips up and down the head of my dick, down an inch or two on the shaft, while her hand slid up and down the base of my shaft. I was lying on her bed and she was crouched between my legs. The kicker was when she glanced up at me. I could see the smile in her eyes. I had just enough time to warn her. She ended up swallowing the first blast; then she pulled off with a sour look on her face and the rest went all over the place. Afterwards, she looked up with a little half-smirk, and said, "OK, so the taste took me by surprise." "That bad?" I asked. "Well, I think I could get used to it, but it's very sticky," she said. "I mean, it tastes sticky. If that makes any sense." "It doesn't matter to me. That was incredible," I told her. She grinned, then got off the bed and found a towel. She came back and cleaned me--and herself, and the bed, and the floor--all up. Then she crawled up next to me. She went to kiss me, then stopped. "I think I still have some in my mouth," she said. "Who cares?" I replied, and pulled her down for a nice, sloppy kiss. She probably did have a bit still in her mouth. And I didn't care. We kissed, both completely naked. Our hands roamed all over each other's bodies. I slipped a hand between her legs and rubbed her pussy, which was dripping. She moaned into my mouth. I rubbed up and down her pussy, working her up, listening to her moan and gasp into my mouth. I dropped my lips from hers and wrapped them around her boob, sucking gently on her nipple while I diddled her pussy. A few minutes later, I was thinking about kissing my way down her stomach and diving into that beautiful pussy again. She pre-empted that idea. "Eddie? NOW!" she commanded. Well, who could ignore that? Not I. I knelt between her legs, and reached over to where my pants had fallen on the bed. I pulled the rubber out of my pocket, undid the foil, and rolled it over my dick. Kara looked on with interest. Once I got it on, I looked into her eyes. She dramatically spread her arms and legs, and with a little grin, said, "Take me!" I couldn't help it. I cracked up. "Take me? Where did you get that one?" "Mom reads romance novels. I steal 'em," she giggled. "And when the young virginal heroine surrenders her virtue to the handsome, dashing hero, she always says 'take me!'" Is there any question why I'd been in love with this girl for three years? After we stopped giggling, I reached my hand between her legs again, to, you know, re-establish the mood. It didn't need much re-establishing. She was still drenched, I just got her back into moaning-and-panting mode. I moved closer. Amazingly, she didn't look hesitant or nervous. She looked eager. I reached down and lined my dick up with her pussy, and pushed. The one time in my life I was glad I wasn't that big was right then. Because I was having trouble. She was so tight. After a couple minutes, I was finally able to pop the head past her opening. She squealed. "You OK?" I asked. "Yes," she gasped. "Keep going." I moved into her, very slowly, feeling her open up for me. It was like a vise grip. I'd never felt anything this tight in my previous life. I was glad she had given me that blowjob--I had a little more control than your average 13-year-old boy, but only a little. I'd be going off like a rocket if I hadn't already gotten off. Kara was panting and gasping, her face flushed bright red. I moved myself into her very slowly, watching for flashes of pain on her face. There were a few. "You OK?" I asked. "Oh God so full!" she managed to get out. "Slow, OK?" I nodded, and kept moving into her. It took a while, but I was finally buried to the hilt. "All the way?" she asked as our pubes bumped. "Yes. You OK?" I asked again. "It hurts a little," she said with a grimace. "Can you hold for a minute?" "I'll try," I said, grinning. "Good thing I already came once today." She giggled a little at that, laced with a bit of a painful look. I just held myself inside her as her breathing steadied a little bit. She looked up at me and smiled. "You can start now. Slowly, though." I did just that, moving slowly in and out of her. "Oh, Eddie!" she gasped. "Oh, so good!" I agreed, it was the best thing I'd ever felt. There was only one problem with that. I was, after all, thirteen. Damn, I tried to hold on. But it was this body's first fuck. The feel of Kara's tight, wet pussy clamping down on my dick--combined with the lustful expression in her eyes--sent me right over, way too fast. "Kara!" I grunted, and filled the condom. I pulled out and slumped down next to her. She was grinning and humming. "You didn't cum," I said. "No, but it's OK. I was getting close. Next time." "Fuck next time," I growled, and buried my face between her legs. She gave out a squeak of surprise, then started in with the gasping and moaning again. If I had learned anything in the past life when it came to sex, it was never leave them hanging. I didn't. Kara howled out her climax in mere minutes. "You didn't have to do that. I loved it anyway," she said afterwards. "I wanted to," I told her. "Eddie? That was... incredible. The whole thing." "I'm glad you enjoyed it," I grinned at her. "It was just as incredible for me." We cuddled for a while, chatting and fondling, After a bit of that, Mr. Happy started re-asserting himself. "Hmmm," Kara said, feeling it with her hand, "did you bring more rubbers?" "Of course." "Good! Get that thing in me again! I want to cum with you in me this time!" If I wasn't hard before she said that, I certainly was afterwards! So, we did it again. And she did cum with me in her this time. It was wonderful. Afterwards, cuddling again, she said to me, "Eddie? I know our relationship is going to change in September, when I go away. But I was your first, and you were mine, and it was wonderful. That's something nobody can ever take away from us. I love you." "I love you too, Kara," I said, kissing her. I thought about what she had said. OK, technically, she wasn't my first. But she was. It felt like she was my first. It felt like the 'previous life' was a dream, and it had been feeling more and more like that every day. Deep down, I knew it wasn't. I also knew there were things I could learn from it. But it was that moment that I decided to just live. Remember, yes--but live, this life. Kara was my first. I liked the sound of that. We cuddled until it was time for me to head home. I walked home a different person, and for the better. Things were looking better than they ever had... in either life. ------- Chapter 5 "THAT THUNDER IN YOUR HEART AT NIGHT, WHEN YOU'RE KNEELING IN THE DARK, THAT SAYS YOU'RE NEVER GONNA LEAVE HER" MAY 18, 1978 I don't talk out of school. Even the first time around, I would've known that--if I had had anything to talk about then. I wasn't stupid. I saw the bragging--and what that did to the girls being bragged about. What Kara and I did was only our own business. However, I had to admit, I wonder if anyone had figured it out. Kara and I couldn't keep our hands off of one another--even in school. We'd walk from the bus to the entrance--and it would start as holding hands and would end with our arms wrapped around one another. And, at least to me, it showed on her face. It had only been a few days, of course, but she was glowing--at least to my eyes. I wondered if anyone else noticed. I did know that she had told one person. "I had to tell somebody, or I was going to burst!" she told me on the phone Monday night. I wasn't going to tell, but I was the guy. I figured who she told was her business. And I especially didn't mind, because the person she had told was Kelly. And Kelly, when she saw me on that staircase Tuesday morning, giggled and said, "Nice going, stud--you made Kara very, very happy." "That makes two of us," I grinned. "So, tell me--if I had told you six months ago that you were going to lose your virginity to Kara Pocharsky, what would you have done?" she asked. "Had you locked up, because you clearly would've been insane." She giggled at that one. So, Kelly knew, but that was Kara's doing, and I didn't mind. I wasn't going to tell anyone. Well, actually, I was. Just one. There's an exception to every rule, right? And I knew about what Kara had said--wanting to tell someone or you'd burst. Besides which, there's some people that you can just trust. On this date, the 18th, I missed the bus. On purpose. But I didn't tell Beth that, I just found her and sheepishly admitted that I had missed the bus again. She laughed, and we started walking to her house. I was waiting until we got to the railroad tracks. And when we got there, Beth gave me the perfect opening. "Hey, Eddie, tell me--what has gotten into you? You're in a mood today--all week, in fact. It's like you're floating on a cloud. What's up?" "OK, I'll tell you. I haven't told a soul this, and the only person I ever planned on telling was you." She nodded. Then I told her. "Saturday afternoon, I lost my virginity. Kara and I had sex for the first time." Poor Beth. She was carrying a few books in her hand. She dropped them! She just stood there, looking at me like I was an alien being or something, while I scrambled around trying to grab the papers that had fallen out of her books before they blew away down the railroad tracks! I finally got them all gathered up, and handed them to her. She was still staring at me. "You OK, Beffy?" I asked. "You... you... had SEX?" "Yeah." "Eddie. You're thirteen years old!" "So, I started young." "Eddie! I mean, GOD! What if she gets pregnant or something?" "We took care of that, Beth. Do you think I'm stupid?" "No. You're not. I should've realized you'd think of that. Or Kara would." "It was me," I grinned. "She was ready to go all the way a week before. I'm the one that reminded her that I didn't have anything." "Oh," she said, thinking about that. "So you almost did it a week ago, but stopped, and then did it this past Saturday?" "Yeah." "So, this wasn't a spur of the moment thing." "Not at all." "Hmmm," she said, "well that makes me feel a little better. But, still! I don't even think I could conceive of having sex this young!" "Well, there's two big differences between you and me." "Yeah, I'm not a boy," she teased. "That means nothing. I didn't start this, you know--Kara did. So boy and girl means nothing. No, the two differences I was thinking of were this. First, you take that whole Catholic thing much more seriously than I do. You don't believe in premarital sex." "Yeah." "And, secondly, you're not in love." "True enough. Though even if I were in love, I think the Catholic thing would still take precedence." Her voice dropped a bit. "Especially considering my current situation." "Ah," I said, "you believe that if you had sex without marriage, you wouldn't go to heaven. And at this point you're pretty much counting on heaven." "Exactly. You don't agree with me." "No, I don't, but I don't have to live with your beliefs, you do." "You think that, even though you've had sex out of wedlock, you'd still go to heaven if you died tomorrow?" I grinned at her. "First you'd have to get me to believe in heaven." She gasped. "You don't?" "No." "What do you think happens to us when we die?" "Nothingness." "Jeez, Eddie!" "Don't get me wrong; I hope you're right and I'm wrong. Believe me, I dearly hope that. How can I not? But I just can't buy it." "Do you believe in God?" "That's a good one. I don't know." Actually, if I had been asked this before I 'came back', the answer was a definite "no". I was a confirmed atheist in my previous adult life. Now, I wasn't so sure. I mean, something sent me back 30 years. I have no idea what it was, but scientific explanations didn't make much sense. "Well, if there might be a God, then there might be a heaven, right?" "Possibly." Of course, if there were a heaven, why wasn't I there? Or hell, even? Why had I been sent back? Of course, I couldn't say this to Beth. "I'll say this, though--I don't believe in much of the Bible, especially the Old Testament. And, if there is a God, I don't think he's worried about sex. This all comes from centuries of religious pooh-bahs trying to control people--especially women. If there's a God, I really don't think he cares who we screw, or when." "You really think that?" "I really do. Those wait-until-marriage rules made sense 100 years ago, and earlier--when people entered puberty at 14 and got married at 16. Nowadays, we enter puberty at 11 and get married after college." She giggled. "I never thought of it that way." "Plus, if God didn't want us to have sex, he wouldn't have made it so damn fun." She laughed again. "So, was it?" "Was it what?" "Fun?" "It was a whole hell of a lot of fun," I grinned. "Yeah, I'll bet. Like I said, you're a guy." "I think it's safe to say that Kara enjoyed herself." "I think I might just ask her," Beth grinned. "Go ahead. I do not plan to talk about this, that's not right. But she won't mind that I told you." "She really enjoyed it?" "She told me she did. It seemed like she did." She looked at me. "You have changed a lot in the past few months, you know. I always used to worry about you." "With good reason," I said. "But I'm a lot better. Honestly, I can't believe I've actually had sex already--and with Kara Pocharsky, of all people. But life's a lot better than it was, or than I thought it would be--and not just because of that, either." "Good, I really am glad," she said. ------- MAY 20th, 1978 Saturday. Date day. Though we didn't go on an actual date. It was funny--one of my unfulfilled fantasies in my 'former life' was to make love outdoors. Though I'd always though of a beach at night, not Braddox Hill in the middle of the day. But it was still a trip. Kara's house being available for our first time was a fluke, and we knew it. And, I'll be honest--I wasn't all that willing to go without. And Kara was really unwilling to go without. So, she met me at her door with another picnic lunch. "Oh, a picnic," her mother said. "That's so sweet and romantic." Somehow, we made it out her door and around the corner before we started laughing. "Yep, sweet and romantic," she said, still laughing. "We've got all the ingredients for a sweet romantic picnic. Sandwiches, sodas, a big blanket--and rubbers!" She shot a sideways glance at me. "You did remember the rubbers?" "Of course," I said. "I think I'll keep one in my wallet at all times, just in case you get frisky." She cracked up. "How sweet and romantic. If only my mother knew." "Don't even think that," I said. "Tell me about it," she sighed. "I'm the Perfect Daughter. She'd be beside herself if she knew I'd lost my virginity at 13. Honestly, that's the only thing that bugs me about this whole thing. And only a little--but it does bug me. I really do love my parents, and they'd be really disappointed in me if they knew." "Well, I know you're Catholic," I said. "That's not a big huge deal, though. It's the age. If I were 18, 20, it wouldn't be an issue, even if I weren't married. My parents go to church, but they don't believe a lot of the peripheral stuff." "Ah. So it's the age. That's a knee-jerk reaction, though. It's just a number. You're far more mature than most 20-year-olds. I'm not as mature as you are, but I was the one that stopped it when we didn't have anything--so at least I'm responsible." And, no, I didn't consider myself mature, even considering my 'real' age. I was immature at 42, and I'd regressed with the time trip. It was, however, better than the first time around. I'd been very immature then. "You're pretty mature," she argued. "Especially in some ways. The way you treat girls is extremely mature." I chuckled at that. "Have you forgotten the two years that I followed you around like a lovesick idiot?" "No," she laughed, "but that's not what I'm talking about. Kelly and I had a discussion about this. Most guys our age think with their you-know-what. And that makes them treat girls as a, I don't know, receptacle or something. Plus, lots of guys our age are way too into that macho crap. Like that'll impress girls. You know, the caveman act." "Problem is, that does impress a lot of girls," I said. "You're a rare bird." "I think you'd be surprised," she said. "I have a prediction to make. When I leave for school in September, you're going to have your pick of girls to go out with." "Excuse me?" "It's been mentioned to me, Ed. Girls see how you treat me. And they see how a lot of other guys treat them. And they've noticed the difference." "Whatever you say," I laughed. "Mark my words." I just grinned at her. By this time, we'd reached the top of the hill. We spread out the blanket and dug into the food, chatting while we ate. When we were done eating, I tackled Kara onto the blanket. "Animal! Beast! Taking advantage of me like that!" Kara laughed. "And you love every minute of it," I said. "Too true," she said. Then she couldn't say anything else, because she was getting kissed. We made out for a while. In the middle, I snaked my hand up her shirt. Expecting to encounter a bra, I was surprised when my fingers hit bare skin. She broke the kiss, smiled and me, and said, "Easier access. That's why I wore a skirt, too." Then she went back to kissing me. Believe me, I wasn't complaining! We kept kissing, my hand fondling her boob. Then I broke off the kiss, and scrambled down between her legs. She let out a little squeal as I pulled at her panties. Discarding them, I crawled up between her legs, pushing her skirt up around her waist. She was right--nice and easy access. Plus, if we heard voices coming up the hill, it'd be easier to 'fix ourselves.' I dove in and started licking at her labia, spreading her juices around, feeling her labia swell as her arousal built. I dipped my tongue into her opening, and she let out a muffled squeal. "Damn, I don't want to yell," she gasped. I knew what she meant--Braddox Hill wasn't that isolated. "I should've saved some food--you know, put something in my mouth to keep me quiet," she giggled. I ran my tongue up and down her pussy again, and she let out another half-gasp half-squeal. That's when I got a devious idea. "Kara. You want to play?" "I thought that's what we were doing," she giggled. "Something new. Do you know what a 69 is?" "No," she said. I scrambled out from between her legs and lie on my back next to her. "OK, now straddle me. Legs around my head, facing down." She giggled and did just that. "OK," I said from under her skirt, "Now, lean down over me. I'm the six, and you're the nine--get it?" "Oh, yeah, I get it!" she said. She certainly did--she was undoing my fly right away. Before I could even get back to work on her pussy, she had my dick out and her mouth around it. I went back to her pussy, starting with the long licks again, and she moaned around my dick. I'd done 69 before, in the old life, and it was always fun--but, sometimes it was hard to concentrate. Especially for the girl. If you wanted a flat-out blowjob, 69 really wasn't the way to do it. However, with Kara, my lapping away at her pussy seemed to spur her on. She absolutely devoured me. And, when I got to the point where I was nudging her clit with my tongue, she just flat-out Hoovered me. It was incredible. I managed to keep my own concentration, working away at her pussy, but she was sucking the daylights out of me. I figured that this wasn't going to take long, and I was right. Knowing she wasn't thrilled with the taste the first time she had done this, I managed to hiss "Cumming!" at her right before I did. She ignored me, and kept sucking on my dick, working her mouth up and down on it. I grunted and exploded into her mouth. She swallowed without a problem, except for a few dribbles. Then she sat up a bit, settling her pussy deeper onto my mouth, and sighed. I'd managed to keep her on the edge the whole time she was blowing me--so now I zeroed in on her clit so I could push her over. If anyone had happened up the hill just then, they would've run into quite a sight. You couldn't see my head at all--we'd never taken Kara's skirt off, so it had settled back down around her thighs, obscuring my head. It almost looked like she was sitting on a stool. Except that stool had a body. And that body's dick was still hanging out of its fly. Oh, and, most girls don't writhe quite that much if they're sitting on a stool! Suddenly, she reared up, jammed her pussy into my face, and came. Luckily, she managed not to howl. But she was panting, and her whole body was shaking, as I nibbled on her clit. Afterwards, she collapsed forward on top of me, which gave me enough clearance to take a couple of much-needed deep breaths! She climbed off of me and settled her head on my chest. "God," she gasped. "God. This just keeps getting better and better. Where'd you get that 69 thing?" "I told you--Penthouse Forum." "I really do need a subscription," she smiled. I started laughing. "What's so funny?" she asked. "You," I said. "I always thought of you as some kind of Polly Pureheart. Little did I know you were an animal." "Me? How about you?" she laughed. "Ed Bovilas, the maladjusted nerd, makes me cum like a banshee. Never would've bet on that," she teased with a smirk. "Seriously--it was Don Nixon that got me thinking about all this." "Huh?" I said. She smiled. "Not that I would've with him. I knew I wouldn't. But he kept pressing things, and I knew where he wanted to be headed, right? So it made me think about it. Look, I told you he fondled my boobs through my shirt. Well, it didn't turn me on, because he was clueless, but it came close, you know? I guess I could see where it would turn me on if it were somebody that had a clue. So I thought about it. And I asked myself what I'd do if I found myself turned on. I decided that it depended on the guy--but I guess it made me more open to it." She grinned at me. "Then you came along. God. Do you know what you did to me that first time you grabbed my boob, in the sleeping bag when we were camped out? Hell, I was half tempted to jump you right there. It was such a difference, I guess that made me really start thinking about it. And that's without getting into how good a kisser you are. So, yeah, I might have been pure and innocent and all that, but I'd started thinking about it. The way you make me feel just pushed me over." "Ah. Whereas I'd been thinking about it, with you specifically, since sixth grade." "Pervert." "You know it." "Good. Put that thing in me!" she demanded, rolling over onto her back. I found my wallet and got a rubber out, and put it on. Then I eased myself into her. "Damn, so good," she hissed. I had to agree. She wrapped her legs around my waist, giving me a perfect angle. I started moving in and out of her, slowly at first. She hooked her ankles behind my ass and almost immediately began thrusting back up at me. Where she picked that up, I have no idea--it was all instinct. I pushed all the way into her--her humping up to meet me--and held for a couple of seconds, grinding myself into her. She squealed at that. I did that a few more times, then picked up the pace a bit. She wheezed every time I pulled out, and grunted every time I hit bottom. She still had her skirt on, but it was bunched up around her waist, and the 'thwack' of our bodies mixed with her grunting and echoed off the trees surrounding us. That, actually, was a wee bit worrisome. If anyone was standing in their backyard in one of the houses at the bottom of the hill, there was a chance we could be heard. Ah, well--the chances you take when you're 13 and want to get laid! Kara, luckily, wasn't too loud. I wasn't all that worried, just a little. Not enough to distract me, that was for sure! I kept moving in and out of her, grinding a little on the downstroke. "Oh, God, so close," she hissed. I started going faster, and I could see her build up. Her eyes were closed tight, her mouth in an O, and her face flushed. Her hands came up and gripped my shoulders. I still had my shirt on, but I could feel her fingernails dig in to my shoulders. She kept thrusting up against me, harder and harder, as I plunged into her. After a minute, she stiffened. Her fingernails dug hard into my shoulders, and her ass came right off the ground. She yelped a little, and her eyes opened wide. I felt her pussy clamp down hard on my dick. I hadn't been all that close--worrying about the noise must've distracted me a wee bit--but watching her cum changed all that. I kept sliding in and out of her, stringing her orgasm out a bit, and then I came into the rubber. Afterwards, curled up together underneath the blue sky, she sighed. "I was right. This just keeps getting better and better." I could only agree. ------- MAY 31, 1978 BROOOOOOOOOOOSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!!!!!!!!!!! Springsteen, that is. My first Bruce concert, over 21 years early from the first time. As I've said, I had this show on a bootleg in the old life, so I had heard it. Now that was strange. I was attending a show I'd already heard. Wrap that one around your brain for a bit! What's more, the show was a bit of an oddity. It was the Darkness tour, supporting the Darkness On The Edge Of Town album. There was only one problem--the album wasn't out yet. Y'see, there was a delay. At the last minute, Bruce decided to remix the track The Promised Land, pushing the album release date back. However, the beginning of the tour was already booked, so the tour started on time--May 20th or something like that. This was one of the first dates on the tour. The album wouldn't be out for another week. The conundrum was this--as far as Bruce was concerned, this was the Darkness tour. So he was playing songs from Darkness. Which hadn't been released yet. When someone puts on as good a show as Bruce Springsteen does, this is not a big deal. Bruce was notorious for pulling songs out of his ass, and it didn't matter. Few performers could get away with playing a show containing seven or eight songs from an album that wasn't out yet--but Bruce could. That wasn't the problem. The problem was--these were new songs, right? Nobody was supposed to know them. In fact, there were murmurs going around the hall: "This must be stuff from the new album." Some people, of course, had seen the first two shows of the stand and were into their third hearing of some of these songs. But I wasn't. The point is, I wasn't supposed to know any of these songs--but of course I did. And I had to act like I didn't know any of them. Not for Kara--she wasn't a big enough Springsteen fan yet to know the difference--but cousin Sandy sure would! So, I didn't know these songs. I couldn't know these songs. I had to pretend I didn't know these songs. Which meant I COULDN'T SING ALONG!!! Man, it sucked! Do you know how hard it is for me to not sing along at a show when I know the words? Especially at a show like Bruce, which is riotous. And he opened with "Badlands", the first cut off of Darkness and one of my all-time favorites. When he got to the "For the ones who had a notion, a notion deep inside, it ain't no sin to be glad you're alive" verse, I think I was biting my damn tongue to keep from singing along. And "Prove It All Night." I couldn't sing along to "Prove It All Night"? I'd spent 20 years singing along to that song, in the car with the radio blasting and the windows rolled down, bellowing away at the top of my lungs! And here he was playing it live and I couldn't sing along. Ah, me. Luckily, that was the only downside to the whole thing. What an UNBELIEVABLE show. It was stupendous. And he played enough of the old stuff that I could get away with singing along to. "Born To Run," for instance. Of course, I made sure I sang the "Strap your hands cross my engines" line right at Kara. He played "Rosalita" and "Thunder Road" and "Spirit In The Night" and a few other things I could sing along to. Kara was amused. I can sing, and she obviously knows it--having heard it in English class--so she told me she wasn't grinning at my singing. She was grinning at how into it I was. But, as the show went on, she got into it as well--quite a lot. She started the show as a mild Bruce fan who thought it would be a cool show--and left with an expression on her face like she had just seen the second coming! So, I got to see Bruce 21 years earlier than I did the first time around. I got to see him with Kara. I got to actually hear him play "The Promise", a legendary unreleased track that he played live sometimes (it was finally released in 1998). And I got to listen to Kara babble about how cool it was when she snuggled up next to me in the back seat of Sandy's car on the ride home. ------- JUNE 9th, 1978 Things were obviously going too good. I had to relive one of my least favorite days today. Another beating. This one was extra-special, though. The first time around, I was actually holding my own in the fight. This time around, I was more than holding my own. And the guy who was beating on me did the same thing--grabbed my head and slammed it into a brick wall. As an adult in the old life, people thought I was exaggerating some of this shit. I'd gotten rid of most of it this time--but obviously not all of it. It started with a kid named Danny Sullivan, another kid I'd known since first grade. He was one of the ones that liked to taunt me with that 'fag' bullshit. Of course, the irony is, Danny was gay. I found that out in adulthood, when, searching for something, I found a website of his (yes, I'm sure it was him--he had a picture there from when he was a kid. I recognized him and his house). But he spent most of eighth grade calling me fag. Usually I ignored him--you know, consider the source and all that. But this day I was just irritated, so when he started in on me as I was walking down the hall, I said, "Hey, Danny, fuck you." Danny wasn't going to approach me himself--Danny was a runt, one of the few kids in school that, even the first time around, I would have been able to take. This time, with all the weightlifting and running I did, I would've pulverized him. Somehow, Danny had acquired some 'friends'. You know, protection, muscle. I don't know how he managed that. I wonder what those brutes would've said if they'd realized that he was the one that was gay and was probably checking them out behind their back. Anyhow, after I told Danny to fuck off, one of the bozos grabbed me. Even though I got sucker-punched, I was still holding my own. In fact, I was winning. All that exercising really was paying off. But the bozo pre-empted it by slamming my head against the wall. I'll admit it--I'm a crier. I cry at sappy movies, for goodness' sake, even in adulthood in the old life. When this incident happened the first time, I bawled like a baby. This time, I willfully commanded myself not to cry. I just stood there, holding my head. "Jesus fucking Christ, I'm bleeding, you asshole!" I spat at the bully. He was looking smug, until he heard the mutterings from the crowd. "Cheap shot," and "What an asshole," were some of the things I heard. Jesus Christ, I had allies? How the hell did that happen? Stan had happened about in the middle of all this, and now he pushed himself through the crowd. "You need to get to the nurse, pal," he told me. "No argument there." We went to the nurse. I got stitches; seven of them. I was checked for a concussion which I luckily didn't have. Of course, afterwards, I had to go down to Mr. Legerre's office again. Fun, fun, fun. He blustered and sputtered, and I ignored him. When this happened before, I just went home and nursed my wounds--happy in the fact that I only had two weeks left in this hellhole before I got out and went to the Prep. Well, I'd blown that decision this time around. I thought I had ended this crap. Maybe I should have gone to the Prep. But, this time I wasn't just going to go home and lick my wounds, either. As I was reminded when, waiting for the bus, here came Kara. "God, what happened?" she said--she'd obviously heard. I told her. "Oh, baby, are you OK?" she asked in real sympathy. I assured her that I was fine. I got on the bus, and Kara (and Kelly too) made all kinds of cooing sympathetic noises and bucked me up. Even Danica said, "What an asshole. You should pop Danny Sullivan one, make him call his goons off." "Don't worry, I'm going to do something. I don't know what, yet, but this shit has to stop," I said. All three girls nodded in agreement. "But, for now, I'm putting it out of my mind. I don't want to spoil somebody's birthday," I said--and leaned over and kissed Kara on the cheek. She grinned happily. Yup, it was her birthday; she was 14 today. "So, how's it feel to be dating an older woman?" Kelly asked me, grinning. "Wonderful," I said with this sickeningly dreamy look on my face, making them all laugh. "She's taught me so much." "Are you sure you don't have a concussion?" Kara laughed. I got off the bus at Kara's stop. Other people got off at that stop, too: the Cullinane twins, Sara, Steve McCauley, Denise Bucher, Bob Golan. A lot of Kara's crowd. Sara had begun to accept Kara and me together, partially because she, too, had figured out what a jerk Don Nixon was. Bob and Denise were still wary, but at least they didn't give me shit. We chatted for a while, then headed to Kara's house. Kara's parents had invited me over for dinner and birthday cake. Afterwards, there was a dance at school, the last one of the year. Mrs. Pocharsky would drive us there, and my mom was going to pick us up. We got to Kara's house, and I called my mom and told her about the head injury. I assured her I was OK. With no homework to worry about--it was Friday--Kara and I watched TV, cuddling on the couch. There wasn't much else going on, not with her mother due home any minute and her brother and sister there! In fact, her sister--who was like 9--caught us kissing and made a big deal about going "Yuck! Yuck!" Kara just grinned at her. "Trust me, Angela, you won't be saying yuck in five years or so." Her brother and sister left us alone after a while, and, well, we got a bit carried away. Not too bad--no clothing was removed--but when her mother came into the house, she was in my lap and we were kissing. I don't even think we heard the door open. We did hear the rather amused throat-clearing. Kara looked up and dove off of my lap! "Uh, hi, Mom!" she said, rather sheepishly. "Hello, Kara. Hi, Ed. Don't let me interrupt," she said with thinly veiled amusement. "Uh, well..." Kara stuttered. "Oh, relax," Mrs. Pocharsky said. "You two have been going out for four months. If you weren't kissing, I'd be worried about you." Good thing she didn't know what else we were doing! She was walking behind me to hang up her coat, when she saw the bandage. "Ed, what happened to your head?" she asked. I explained. She sat down across from us and sighed. "Ed, how do you get into these messes?" "That's what I'd like to know," Kara said, exasperated. "I just don't get it! He's the sweetest guy in school!" "And that's part of the problem, right there," Mrs. Pocharsky said. "Ed probably took that as a compliment. Most boys your age wouldn't. 'Sweet' is not a word one usually uses in describing a thirteen-year-old boy. Ed's the least manliness-obsessed boy his age I've ever met. It's all about proving masculinity. Ed's not like that." She was right. This isn't something that I figured out the first time around until much later in life, mind you, but she was right. I was very un-macho, and always had been. I hated those games. "And it's going to cause you problems for some time to come," Mrs. Pocharsky continued, looking right at me. "But, do me a favor, Ed. Don't change. Most guys realize the macho act doesn't work, but not until much later in life. Some guys never realize it. You've got a head start." "I know. Kara and I have talked about that, actually--and I got lucky. Because, right now, with a lot of girls, it does work." "Those girls haven't been with Don Nixon," Kara spat disgustedly. "That woke me up." "I know it did," Mrs. Pocharsky said. "And I'm glad of it." "Me, too," I said to chuckles. "Anyhow, don't worry, Mrs. Pocharsky--I have no intention of changing. Hey, I've been through this for a while now, and it's better this year. I've done enough to counter a lot of it, and I'm not done with the jerk that got me today, believe me. But, really, it doesn't matter. How many of those macho-obsessed jerks are going to that dance tonight alone?" "Good point," Kara laughed. Supper was fine, and we all sang Happy Birthday and ate cake. Then we did presents. I got her a copy of The Beatles' Red Album, which she had asked for. I also got her an outfit. I had secretly quizzed Mrs. Pocharsky on Kara's favorite stores to shop in, and picked out a skirt-and-sweater set that I thought was cute. Kara obviously agreed, as she squealed in delight as she opened it. "Wow! This is so awesome!" she enthused. "I had all planned out what I was going to wear to this dance tonight, but I just changed my mind!" She ran upstairs to change. I had to pat myself on the back, it looked adorable on her. Even her mom agreed. When we got to the dance, and everyone commented on her outfit, she took great pleasure in telling all that I was the one that got it for her. Of course, this got me razzed. "Oh, yeah, Bovilas, you're real good at buying girls' clothes," Joe Vizcano said with a smirk. "It made her happy. That's all I really care about," I shrugged. "Besides which," Kara said, "did you happen to notice that the adorable outfit also happens to have a skirt? So the guy who bought that outfit can look at my legs all night long? I don't date a dummy!" Everyone, even Joe, cracked up at that one. It was fun. We had a good time. But, I have to say, I think everyone figured out that our relationship was at least somewhat physical. During the slow dances, we were plastered to one another. Nobody said anything, but we got some looks. Not that we minded! JUNE 14th, 1978 Kara and I talked about it. We determined that I had to do something, or this was going to keep happening. I was surprised, actually, that Kara agreed. Violence was not her thing at all. I thought she'd tell me to turn the other cheek, but she didn't. "I hate to see you go through this," she said. "I think you have to make a stand, or it's going to keep happening. Besides which, I worry about next year." "How come?" "Things have gotten better for you this year, and I know a lot of it is your running and weightlifting and your better attitude. But some of it, I believe, is also me. You hear what they call you--'fag' and all that. Well, that's kind of a stupid thing to call a guy with a girlfriend, isn't it? I think having a girlfriend shields you from some things. And, next year, when I'm not here..." "Good point," I agreed. So, on this day, I got off the bus in the morning and went to find the asshole that had slammed my head against the wall. Kara--and Kelly--came to root me on. And some of the guys--Stan, Patrick, Steve McCauley--even volunteered to back me up, just to make sure none of the asshole's friends got into the act. One thing that was different about me as compared to the first time around--I wasn't as nice. I was way too nice the first time around. Not this time. Fight fire with fire. This guy was an asshole, so, I wasn't fighting this fight by Marquis of Queensbury rules. I went up to him, tapped him on the shoulder--and swung. Yeah, it was a sucker punch. I didn't give a fuck. That's what he had done to me--before he slammed my head against the wall. Right from the beginning, he was a cheap-shot artist. Fight fire with fire. Anyhow, he turned and I swung, and nailed him right in the nose. And I kept swinging. One of his buddies did make a move to get involved, and Steve stepped in front of him. "Uh, uh, uh--we'll have none of that." I just kept swinging. The asshole went down in a heap, blood squirting from his nose. "You lay a hand on me again, and you'll get worse than that," I told him. Then I walked over to Danny Sullivan, who was watching from a distance like the weasel he was. I grabbed him around the collar. "You listen to me, you little shit. The next time you sic one of your goon buddies on me, I'll beat the living daylights out of you. It won't be the goon next time--it'll be you. You understand me?" "Yes," he sniffled. "Good." I walked away with Kara at my side. It felt very good. And I hoped this was the end of it. JULY 2nd, 1978 This was a replay of a very interesting day. This was the day I met Annabelle. Belle--everyone called her that--was actually my second cousin. She lived in California. She came out for a visit with her Mom, who was my mother's first cousin and her best friend growing up. They had flown in and landed on the first, which was a Saturday. This day, the second, was the day I met her. They were staying with my Grandmother. Gram had a cookout as an early fourth-of-July thing. So, we went over, and, while Gram and my Mom were barbecuing, I was advised to "take Belle for a walk. Take her down to the beach, show her around." So, I did. Belle was gorgeous. She was a year younger than me, which made her 12, but she didn't look 12--she looked 16. She was built. She was also a blue-eyed blonde with a gorgeous face. She was a little chunky, but, hey--I liked chunky. It just made her more curvy. One look at her and you wanted to start singing Beach Boys songs: "I wish they all could be California Girls..." The first time I lived this, the attraction was instantaneous--and mutual. We got down to the beach, chatting, and she asked me if I ever kissed a girl. I said no. She corrected that in a hurry. It was wonderful. Later that week, it even ended up as a brief make-out session one day when I rode my bike over there just to see her. She came back the next summer, but had a boyfriend back in California so wanted nothing to do with me as anything other than friends. Ah, well. I didn't see her again until adulthood. I always remembered her very fondly, though. This time we walked down the beach again. And we were talking, and, as had happened the first time, the attraction was instantaneous. Of course, this time, there was a complication. So, when she asked me that question--if I'd ever kissed a girl--the answer was different. "Yes," I said--with a big grin. "Sure have. I have a girlfriend. Her name is Kara. You'll meet her, she'll be at Gram's in about an hour." Belle's face fell--but, to her credit, only a bit. I'm sure she wanted to act on the attraction--but, hell, it wasn't that big of a deal. She was only here for a week, and we both knew it. So, she decided to tease instead. "So, you've kissed her, huh? How much else have you done?" "Uh-uh. I don't talk about that," I told her. "You don't? Are you sure you're a guy?" she laughed. We dropped that subject, and just chatted about this and that, walking around the park at the beach. She really was as delightful as I had remembered. I'll admit, I had a twinge--especially knowing that Kara and I had a relationship that was coming to an end in two months. But it hadn't come to an end yet, and I'm just too honorable. We got back to Gram's just in time for Kara's arrival. Her mom dropped her off. And she was immediately an absolute sweetheart to Belle. We ended up in a corner of Gram's yard, happily chatting. I forget exactly what we were talking about to lead into it, but it came up. "I had asked him if he'd ever kissed a girl, that's when he mentioned you," Belle said to Kara. "Oh, yeah. Yes, he's kissed a girl," she giggled. "And a few other things." "Yeah, he wouldn't tell me what!" Belle giggled. Kara just smiled enigmatically. Belle looked at her in consternation, then had to laugh. "I think I can probably connect the dots," Belle said. "Most likely," Kara grinned. JULY 4th, 1978 On the day of the fourth, there was another cookout/pool party. This time, it was over Sara's. As I'd said, Sara had started to accept me. I got a nice compliment from her when I took my shirt off to head into the pool. She whistled. "My God, Eddie! Kara had told me that you'd started to lift weights, but jeez! You look fine!" "Thanks, Sara," I laughed. Anyhow, all of Kara's gang was there. I got to watch Kara in a nice, slinky bathing suit. It was one-piece, not a bikini or anything, but she looked fantastic in it. She walked past me at one point and I said, "Slobber slobber drool slobber." That got me a big grin. As I said, Sara's--and Kara's--gang was there, but there were a few additions. After souring on Don Nixon, Sara had started eating lunch with me and Kara's regular lunch buddies. So, Sara invited some of them. She invited Stan, and Michelle Pepper. And, much to my delight, she invited Beth. Who almost didn't come. I had to talk her into it. Beth really could be quite shy, and her current medical situation didn't make her more outgoing. But I talked her into it--as did her best girlfriend Kerry, who was also invited. I was glad she came, and she seemed to be having a good time. Everyone there knew about Beth's condition. Which was a good thing, because it came up. After swimming, and after eating, all of us were gathered in a circle in a corner of the yard. The adults were elsewhere--which was a good thing, considering how the conversation went. Somehow, the conversation turned to sex before marriage. "I'm waiting," Sara said. "I don't believe in sex before marriage." "All girls say that," Bob Golan pointed out, "and a lot of them change their mind." "I won't," Sara maintained. "I think it's easier to say if you don't have a boyfriend," Kelly pointed out. "You know, what if you fall in love? That's harder, I think. I'm not making any hard and fast rules about it." "That's a point," Sara conceded, "but I'm also Catholic." "I think if every Catholic who didn't wait was kicked out of the church, there would be a whole lot of empty pews on Sunday," Patrick said, to laughter. "And, hey, what are we? 14? 13, some of us? It's easy to say at this age. Talk to me when I'm 16 or 17--especially if, as Kelly said, I have a serious girlfriend." That's when Beth said something. "Try staring death in the face, and still sticking to it. Of course, like Kelly said, not having a boyfriend makes it easier. If I did, I might feel differently. But I still think it's important to wait for marriage, even though the odds are very small I'll live long enough to get married." Everyone was staring at her. She grinned. "Hey, don't let me bring the conversation down. Just making a philosophical point is all." "You can be philosophical about that?" Danica asked her. She shrugged. "I think you have to be. I have discussed this some with my buddy over here," she said, poking me in the ribs. "Not that we agree on anything, but sometimes it's good to talk it out. Hey, this is what it is--I have to deal with it." Everybody just kind of thought about that for a minute, then Sara changed the subject back to the original. I didn't know it, but a bombshell was coming. "OK, I'll admit it. If I was in Beth's situation, it might be harder to wait. That's tough. But, I still plan on waiting," Sara said. She looked at Kara. "Kara, we haven't heard from you yet. Do you plan on waiting until marriage?" Kara didn't waste any time dropping the bomb. "It's a little late for that," she said with a sly grin. Oh, GOD, I thought to myself--Kara, what did you just do? It took a minute for people to realize what she had just said--except for Beth and Kelly, who knew. Danica was the first to kind of realize it. "What did you just say?" she asked. "I said, it's too late for me to wait until marriage. I lost my virginity in May." "You WHAT?" Sara blurted out. Stan was the first to realize that, if Kara had lost her virginity, to whom she had to have lost it. "Ed Bovilas, you sly devil you!" he said with a huge grin. That's when it dawned on everyone else. "You. Had sex. With Ed." Bob Golan said in a tone of complete disbelief. "I sure did," Kara said, beaming from ear to ear. "Lots of times. We haven't just done it the once, believe me!" "You are kidding!" Sara blurted. "Why would I kid about something like this?" Kara said. "I don't believe it!" Bob said. "Are you the same girl that didn't want Don Nixon to even touch you?" "Don wanted to push things. Eddie let me go at my own pace," Kara informed him. "It made all the difference. Look, what you guys don't get is this shit is scary for girls. I told Eddie that he didn't scare me, and that's why I wanted him to be my first." All of a sudden, Joe Vizcano burst out laughing. "You know, I don't believe this. Who would've guessed that Ed Bovilas would've been the first of us guys to have sex?" "Not I," I admitted with a laugh. "So, this happened in May and we're just finding out about it now?" Danica said. "Well, I told Kelly," Kara said, "but she's kept her mouth shut." "Hell, Ed didn't even tell me," Stan said. "I only told one person," I said, and pointed to Beth. "He tells me everything," Beth smiled. "So, why are you telling everyone now?" Danica said, looking at me. "Hey, don't look at me!" I said. "I didn't start this! I wouldn't have said a word to anyone besides Beth." "Yep, I take all the blame for this one," Kara laughed. "I just didn't feel like keeping it a secret any more." She sighed. "It can be a pain. Of course, I can't let my parents know. And, I guess, when I was in school, I didn't want it spread around. But I'm not going back to school there and you all are friends, so..." "So, how was it?" Danica asked, very softly. "Wonderful," Kara said in a very dreamy voice. "Marvelous. Couldn't have asked for better. Ed's very talented." Beth looked over at me while Kara was in the middle of that and burst out laughing. "Nice color that is you're blushing, pal," she teased. "Yeah, well..." I stammered. "Well, it's true," Kara proclaimed. "I picked the right guy for my first time, and that's a fact." "Him?" Joe Vizcano said dismissively. "Yes, him," Kara replied. "He's wonderful. Any girl would be lucky to have him." "You're pouring it on pretty thick, sweetheart," I said, to laughter. "Just telling it how it is," she said, smirking at me. After that, the conversation turned to other things. We had a good time. I walked Kara home afterwards. As we left Sara's house, she turned to me and said, "You're welcome." "Thank you. What am I thanking you for?" "For telling." "For embarrassing me?" I laughed. "Aw, you were embarrassed?" "A little. I didn't expect to be discussing my sex life, honestly." "Ah. Well, you should still be happy. Because what I said is going to get around when you go back to school." "This is a good thing?" I asked her. "It sure is." She grabbed my arm and leaned into me, a big grin on her face. "Ed, honey, I just turned you into the school stud. When I leave for Andrews, you're going to be fighting them off!" "Ah," I said. "I'm not sure I care." "You don't now," she said softly, "which is very sweet of you. But, after I leave, you will. You're not going to want to be alone." "We'll see," I said, though I suspected she was right. I just didn't want to think about it. We still had almost two months together. I just wanted to enjoy them--then I'd worry about what came after. ------- Chapter 6 "I Wanna Go, But I Hate To Leave You" SEPTEMBER 3rd, 1978 The good thing about summer is no school. The good thing about a summer that's going to be the last couple of months you spend with your first girlfriend is the same—no school. That means more time. The only thing I had to do that summer was the paper route three days a week. Kara and I became almost inseparable. We hung out over her house. We hung out over mine. We went to the movies—the big movie that summer was Grease, which we actually saw twice! And, of course, we spent a lot of time up on Braddox Hill. July was great. The first part of August was great. But, as August wore on, the inevitability of our parting started to weigh heavily on both of us. We both tried to be mature about it. I know we both wanted this to be an easy thing. However, I also knew, deep down, that I was kidding myself. I think she felt the same way. September 2nd was a Saturday. We went to Braddox Hill. We made love, slow and long. When we were done, we both cried. Her parents invited me over for supper that night, and I was glad of it. Then Kara and I ended up on the couch, watching TV, wrapped up in one another. We ended up falling asleep in one another's arms. Apparently, Mrs. Pocharsky saw this, called my mother, covered Kara and I up in a blanket, and left us there. So, when I woke up this morning, Sunday the 3rd, it was with her on top of me, holding on for dear life. I thanked Mrs. Pocharsky. She pooh-pooh'ed it and made us breakfast. Then, it was time to pack the car. I helped, for a while—then Kara and I ended up sitting on the grass in her back yard. "God, I knew this was going to be hard, but it's even harder than I thought," she said. "I know. Just remember, though—this isn't forever. Even if we're never like this again, we'll always be friends." "Promise?" "I promise," I told her. "And you'd better write! And call!" "You betcha." We chatted for a bit more, then it was time to go. We walked out to her car, hand-in-hand. "Time to go," her Dad said. She turned to me, a sad smile on her face. And then she kissed me. "I love you," she whispered afterwards. "I love you, too. Study hard." "You too." We walked over to the car. I opened the door, and she got in. As the car pulled out of her driveway, she waved. Then I watched my first true love roll away down the hill. ------- SEPTEMBER 6th, 1978 This was the first big manifestation of change. Instead of starting 9th grade at the Prep, I'd be starting it at good ol' Cabot East JHS. It was rather strange and eerie. I was so happy to get out of this place the first time around—and here I was, voluntarily staying an extra year. I still didn't know if it was bad or good. My unease wasn't helped at lunchtime. I found a table with The Usual Suspects from last year—and couldn't help but feel the missing person—Kara. Patrick was also missing, he'd gone to the Prep. "It's the first time we've not gone to school together. It's a little weird," Kelly had confessed to me. But, I was lucky to have the people that were there, and I knew it. Especially since one of the people still there was Beth. The rest of them, too. "So, how you holding up, bucko?" Kelly asked me. "Ah, Kel, you know how it is. I'm OK, though. She called last night, we talked for a while. That was cool." "Good. Hey, if you need a shoulder to cry on... " "I know, Kel. Thanks. It's appreciated." Beth was just joining us, along with her friend Kerry—and another girl. "Hey, do you guys know Olivia?" she asked. "I asked her to eat with us." Everyone said hello to Olivia, who murmured hello back, looking very uncomfortable. Her name was Olivia Drogins, and, yes, I knew her. We'd been in science class last year, in eighth grade. In fact, we sat next to each other. I liked her, possibly because we were both outsiders. Actually, the first time around, I'd asked her out on a date—a dance, towards the end of the year—in eighth grade. She'd eagerly accepted—and then the next day told me her parents had forbidden her to go. And that was that. This time around, of course, I had had Kara. But I still had gotten along with Olivia in science class. I was one of the few people that paid any attention to her at all. You have to understand, Olivia was the school sad sack. Her clothes often had holes in the elbows, or were completely threadbare. Her shoes looked like they were being held together by spit and hope. Her hair was often dull and lifeless. This girl was poor. She was also painfully, painfully shy. She'd clearly absorbed a lot of hard knocks, even at 14 years of age. The thing is, though—she was smart. When you got her talking, she was sweet and nice and interesting. And she wasn't bad looking. With a little fixing up, she'd be very good looking indeed. She was tall, willowy without being skinny, just curvy enough. Her eyes, when they sparkled—which was rare—were beautiful. In other words, in many ways, this girl had potential. Potential that, it seemed to me, was being completely unrealized. That's when it struck me—and I chuckled to myself. Beth had decided to take on a project. Good for her. The rest of the table might have looked askance at Olivia, except that Beth brought her over. And everyone at the table now knew about Beth, and they probably came to the same conclusion I did about what Beth was doing. So, when Beth tried to draw Olivia into the conversation, the rest of us went with it. There was another sort-of new face at the table—my erstwhile semi-girlfriend Christine Seneca. That only made sense, as she was best friends with Michelle Pepper who'd been eating with us for a while. Knowing that I wasn't Chris's favorite person, I just waved and then tried to ignore her. It seemed as though she was looking at me kind of funny, though. "So, what did everyone do this summer?" Danica was asking. "Stayed in remission," Beth said with a wry grin. "Ah, yes, the important things," Stan grinned back at her. She beamed at him. I was so glad I'd opened up to Beth this time around and got her in with this crowd. It was good for her. Stan Murvetsin didn't stand on ceremony with anyone. Beth needed that. "Oh, and I lived vicariously through the exploits of my best friend, the stud," Beth continued, pointing at me. "Oh do NOT start!" I told her. "Sorry," she grinned, not sorry at all. "Anyone else?" "My Dad decided I was old enough to start working at the sub shop," Stan said. "Somebody shoot me." Michelle laughed. "Less than fun?" "If I never see another steak bomb for the rest of my life, it'll be too soon." We all chuckled at that, then Michelle spoke up. "I bought a bass. Guitar, I mean." We all looked at her. "I'm just learning to play it now." "You're taking up bass?" I said, pleased. "Yeah. You inspired me, you know," she told me, "seeing you play guitar in English last year. I was going to do guitar, but I figured bass was a little more unusual. So, I'm taking up bass. My poor parents," she laughed. "They're upset?" Sara asked. "No, not upset, just stunned. I'm demure, I'm reserved, I'm a good student. Basically, I'm a preppy. And I'm going to be a rock and roll bass player. My parents' image of me is having trouble dealing with that," she laughed. "Well, you'll need the leopard print miniskirt and the fishnet stockings. Then you'll be all set," I joked. "Oh GOD," Stan hissed. "Do NOT put that image in my head!" "Image?" Michelle asked. "You, in a miniskirt and fishnets playing a bass. I think I'm in love!" We all cracked up at that, but Michelle blushed bright red! We laughed and joked throughout the rest of lunch. It almost made me forget Kara wasn't there. Almost. ------- OCTOBER 2nd, 1978 It was the day before the first anniversary of my recycling, and I couldn't believe how much had changed. A lot of it to the good. Even though Kara was gone, what we had was so valuable I couldn't even put it into words. And as it turned out, we were telling the truth when we parted—we did stay the best of friends. We wrote letters to each other a few times a week, and talked on the phone once a week. On the phone the previous day, a Sunday, she'd hesitantly confessed that she'd started seeing someone. That bothered me a lot less than I thought it was going to, actually. I really did want her to be happy. I, on the other hand, was not seeing anyone. Though I seemed to be getting some interest. I don't know—even after having lived to adulthood in the previous life, I was still horrible at picking up on signals like that. I was biding my time, anyhow. After Kara, any new girlfriend was going to have a lot to live up to. School was good, better than I'd anticipated. It wasn't as challenging as the Prep had been the first time, but who cared? My grades were up and I was teaching myself some study skills. One thing I'd learned—school wasn't about 'learning', it was about pieces of paper. I could learn on my own. I needed the paper, with the high grades on it, to get out of the rut of the first time around. Period. I didn't care if I was bored, as long as an A came back at the end of the quarter. I wasn't getting beat up, I had a good group of friends, I was enjoying life. All great changes. I was beginning to really realize what a gift I had been given. Not everything, of course. Beth. Though things there were far better than they had been, too. I saw her every day. She was opening up. Her little 'project' with Olivia—and that's just what it had been, Beth had confessed it to me—was going very well. Olivia actually talked and interacted with the rest of us. She seemed less self-conscious about her threadbare and worn clothes. Of course, Beth's illness was still hanging over everyone's head, but she was enjoying the life she had. And we were as thick as thieves most of the time. It really was gratifying. Of course, there were other bad things about being recycled. Not as serious as Beth, of course, but annoying enough. Like this day, for example, October 2nd, 1978. Otherwise known as Bucky Bleepin' Dent. Every Red Sox fan knows what I'm talking about. The Playoff, Sox and Yankees, for the AL East title. The two teams had ended the season tied for first—after the Sox blew a damn 14 game lead—and would have a one-game playoff at Fenway Park on this day. Of course I had to watch it. I was a rabid Red Sox fan. Why wouldn't I watch it? Well, because I knew what was coming, that's why. Of course, I couldn't tell my mother that. And she would've wondered why I wasn't watching. I mean, Sox and Yankees in a playoff? Of course I'd watch. It started at 2 pm, I got home from school just as the first inning was getting underway, and Mom already had it on for me. So, I watched. It was rather like watching replays of a train wreck. The Sox, of course, teased us all, taking a 2-0 lead after the sixth, including a homer by the legendary Yaz. Then came the seventh. The Yankees got two men on base, there were two outs, and Bucky Dent came to the plate. He was their shortstop, their number nine hitter, a guy who played for defense. He wasn't much of a hitter. He had no power. He hit a harmless fly ball to left. No problem. Yaz had it. Except the wind kept pushing it, and pushing it, and it drifted over the Green Monster for a three run homer. Bucky Bleepin' Dent. And I had to sit there and watch it all over again. The Yankees got it up to 5-2. The Sox came back and made it close, but Yaz popped out with the tying run on third base in the ninth. 5-4, Yankees. There are some people that enjoy horror movies, and can watch them over and over again. Good for them—I'm not one of them. Jeez. I could've stood to have only watched this particular horror movie once. The next day, in school, everyone was gloomy. I couldn't help thinking to myself, oh you guys don't know the half of it. Just you wait. Wait until 1986 and the ball going through Buckner's legs. Wait until 2003 and Grady Little leaving Pedro in too long. Just wait. This is only the beginning. I should've come back as a non-baseball fan. ------- OCTOBER 11th, 1978 For the past couple of weeks, things had been, well, strange. Oh, school was fine, and my friends were fine. Mostly. One of them, however, was acting strange—Christine Seneca. As I've said, after our brief pseudo-romance last year, she'd distanced herself from me. We barely talked the rest of last year. Then, this year, she started eating with us; because of Michelle, I'd guessed. She started the year by resolutely ignoring me. Then, all of a sudden, she wasn't. She started talking to me. Then she started sitting next to me. And we were chatting easily after a very short time. I'll admit, I was a wee bit confused. Was this the same girl that had been pretty much ignoring me for a year? Don't get me wrong, I didn't mind. I liked Chris—I never would've asked her out last year in the first place if I didn't like her. It just was strange. I wondered, frankly, what was up. This was the day I found out. As I got out of the lunch line, she grabbed me and pulled me down towards the end of the gang's table, where we could be relatively undisturbed. "Ed, I wanted to talk to you," she started. "I've been thinking. And, well, the thing is, I was wondering if we should give it another shot. Us, I mean." That surprised the hell out of me. Yeah, she'd been nicer, but I never expected that. "You mean you want us to try going out again?" I said. "Yeah. Look, last year, I wasn't ready. It was too scary. But I've been thinking a lot about it. I really do like you. I'd like to try it again." "Wow," I said. "I didn't expect this." I took a breath. "OK, what are you doing Saturday?" "Nothing," she said, grinning. We made plans. ------- OCTOBER 26th, 1978 It was a strange relationship from the start. We had a good time, but Chris still seemed weird, I don't know how else to describe it. And she was very, very insecure. That was hammered home to me on this day, the 26th. The previous day, I'd missed the bus. As usual when that happened, I walked home with Beth. The next day, Chris confronted me. "Was that you I saw walking ahead of me yesterday?" "Were you behind me? You should've yelled. I missed the bus." "So, you were walking with Beth?" "If I miss the bus, I have a standing invite to go over there and wait for my Mom to get out of work," I shrugged. "You could've found me, you know. You know I walk. You could've hung over my place." "I just always go with Beth." "But I'm your girlfriend!" she pouted. "And she's my best friend. Chris, please do not get all jealous over Beth. You know she's sick. You know we've been close since birth. Please don't do that to me." She pouted for a second, then took a deep breath. "OK. You're right," she hissed. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't do that. I'm still not very good at this girlfriend thing." "You're fine," I smiled. ------- NOVEMBER 2ND, 1978 But she wasn't. It got better with Beth, but worse with everyone else. The next day, at lunch, Michelle pulled me aside and asked me to explain the bass line of "Day Tripper" to her. She was really enthusiastic about learning the bass, and I was glad to help—especially if she was learning Beatles tunes! We spent most of the lunch enthusiastically discussing bass lines to Beatles' songs, along with Stan who had taken up the guitar himself—and I got glared at by Chris the whole time. Jesus, Michelle Pepper was Chris's best friend! I mean, come on. The day after, it was Kelly. We ended up telling silly jokes all through lunch. Chris was livid. Kelly even said something on the way home on the bus. "What is up with Chris?" "Jealousy," I replied. "I'm trying to deal with it." "Jesus. What, you're not supposed to have any female friends?" "That's the size of it. I pushed the point about Beth, and she backed off there, but I guess I'm supposed to avoid all other girls." "Jesus. She was jealous over Beth?" "Yep." "What the hell is she gonna do when Kara comes home for Christmas and you two wanna hang out?" "Oh, I don't even want to think about that." On this day, November 2nd, I was eating lunch, when Beth said, "Hey. After school, Olivia and I are going to walk down to the square, hang out, maybe do some shopping. You wanna come with?" "Sure," I said. I always wanted to spend time with Beth, and I knew she was trying to draw Olivia out, so I was glad to go. Chris was not glad. She cornered me after lunch and, basically, flipped out on me. "Whoa," I interrupted. "What is the deal? You know all about Beth. And we didn't have anything planned today." "But it's not just Beth, it's Olivia too!" "Olivia is Beth's friend. Beth wants my help in drawing her out. I'm not going to discuss this anymore," I said, and walked away. I wasn't at all happy. That afternoon, prowling Cabot Square, we talked about it. "I went to grammar school with her, so I've known her for years," Beth told me. "And, Eddie, just be careful, OK? You know how smart Chris is, but it's isolated her." "As it has me," I reminded her. "Right. But you're way ahead of her right now. Last year was a big deal for you. She's not there yet. I think she's clinging to you as her way out of her isolation." "Good point. I just don't know how long I can deal with it. Honestly, I like having a girlfriend. But I want friends, too." "Well, that's something else you have to think about," Beth said. "Do you like Chris, or do you just like having a girlfriend? I know you like sex," she teased. "But are you just going out with Chris to substitute for Kara?" "First of all, Chris and I haven't done anything more than kiss, so that isn't it," I teased back. Then I got serious. "Honestly, Beffy? I've thought about that. I do like Chris, quite a bit. I wouldn't be going out with her if I didn't. I don't need or want a girlfriend that badly. Though, I will admit, that the desire to have a girlfriend probably does make me more willing to put up with some of her crap. Does that make any sense?" "Sort of," Beth laughed. "And I do realize the isolation, and how damaging that can be. Been there, done that." "Don't be too hard on her," Olivia suddenly said, very quietly. "Hmm?" I turned to Olivia. "Don't be too hard on her," she said a little more loudly. "It can be crippling. It's for different reasons, but I'm isolated, too. I have one friend," she said, pointing to Beth, "and, before this year, I had zero." "You have two friends," I smiled, which pleased her. "I thought we got along great in science class last year. I like you, Olivia, OK? But I see your point. Like I said, I've been there, too." "I know. So, bear with Chris, that's all I'm saying." "But the other side of the coin is, take care of Eddie, too," Beth interjected. "I'd hate to see you get in a relationship that's damaging." "I know," I sighed. "I think Miss Seneca and I need to have a long talk." ------- NOVEMBER 4th, 1978 I went over Christine's house on this day, a Saturday. I knew her parents were never around on Saturdays. Chris was an only child, so I figured we'd be able to have that long talk. It was pre-empted. Because I'm an idiot. I got into her house and we sat next to each other on the couch. Before I could say a word, Chris floored me. She looked at me and blurted out, "I want to have sex." After my head stopped spinning, I hissed, "Excuse me?" "I know you had sex with Kara. Michelle told me. She also told me Kara said it was great. I want that." "Are you sure?" "Yes," she said. "Look, nobody's here. We have the house all to ourselves. I really want this." This was a time when I should've let my adult brain do the thinking for me—because that part of my brain knew this was a bad fucking idea. However, the thirteen-year-old was in control. And he was thinking with the other head. This was the problem they don't tell you about when it comes to losing your virginity young. It's addictive. I knew what it was like and wanted it again. It'd been a couple months, and in that couple months I had practically given myself tennis elbow whacking off. Now here was Chris, my girlfriend, telling me she wanted it. Of course, I should've asked why. I should've questioned her motives. I also should've remembered that I'd been questioning whether or not she should be my girlfriend in the first place. But I didn't. The part of my brain that was doing that was drowned out by the other part of my brain screaming, "Hell, yeah!" So, we went upstairs to Chris's room, so I could take her virginity. It was a disaster. I tried going slow. We got each other undressed, and she was plainly nervous, which wasn't any surprise. I was kissing her and rubbing her boobs. I tried to kiss my way down to her boobs, while putting my hand between her legs, when she asked, "What are you doing?" "Working you up." "Uh, well, I think I'm worked up already." Uh, no, dear, my hand is on your pussy and you're bone-dry, I thought. But I didn't say that. "It's just better if I go slow," is what I said. She acquiesced for a bit, but then started rushing me again. I should've had an alarm go off in my head when she said, at one point, "Can we just get it over with?" But I didn't. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Thinking with my dick again. So, after not-nearly-enough foreplay, I went to enter her. The only thing that went right is that I was still, from Kara, in the habit of toting a couple of condoms around in my wallet, so I didn't have to worry about that. I slipped the condom on. She looked ready and eager. She wasn't. Chris was a genuine virgin—meaning, medically. She also wasn't nearly lubricated enough. But she kept egging me on. And I kept letting her. God, it hurt, badly. Hurt her, I mean. She was crying throughout the whole thing. And everytime I tried to stop, she told me not to. And I didn't, God help me. I should've. I didn't understand why she didn't want me to stop. I didn't understand why she was so determined to get it over with, even when it was causing her so much pain. And I should've understood, I should've seen it. This was about control. This was about 'giving the boyfriend what he wants' so he'd stick around. That's what she was doing. She'd said that she wanted this because she'd heard Kara had enjoyed it, but that was completely secondary. She saw me slipping away, so she figured if she was 'putting out, ' I wouldn't leave. And by going through with it, I gave her even more ammunition. Especially when I came, shortly after getting all the way in, right when she finally lubricated enough to possibly start enjoying it. It was afterwards that what had happened finally hit me. Because, after the pain receded, in the aftermath of a situation that could only be termed a monumental fuck-up—she looked happy. Pleased with herself. I wanted to die. And, afterwards, we went back downstairs and had a very pleasant rest-of-the-afternoon. We had a wonderful talk. We always could talk. And later, as I rode my bike home, what had happened completely haunted me. I wasn't like that. I wasn't just a guy looking for a 'piece'. I wasn't. But, on this day, I was. Fuck me. ------- NOVEMBER 11th, 1978 It was perverse. The week after The Disaster was the best week of our relationship, by far. She was far more secure, less jealous, more tolerant of my female friendships. She'd put her 'mark' on me by having sex, so I was hers, and that was that. She was even more openly affectionate—in school, I mean. Holding hands, linking her arm around mine, stuff like that—which I liked. I just didn't like the reason for it. I felt like a complete, utter slug. The Disaster wasn't discussed. I didn't know how to bring it up, and she seemed completely disinclined to do so. As I said, she'd made her mark. And, in a way, she wasn't wrong. Even if I'd been inclined to break up with her, after that? No way. That would be the most callous and cruel thing I could ever do. I took the blame for this. I knew better. Even if you don't count my first-time-around experiences, even if you just counted Kara, I was no virgin. I knew better. And I'd fucked up. Damn, but I wanted a do-over. I guess I had exhausted my supply of do-overs. I wanted to discuss it. I wanted to tell her that this wasn't how it was supposed to be. I wanted to apologize. But I didn't know how to bring it up. I let this stew for a week. I hadn't told anyone—not Beth, not Kara. (And Kara had told me she'd started sleeping with her new boyfriend. Good for her. Really.) I just lived with it—and didn't know what to do about it. The following week, Saturday the 11th, I got the opening. She invited me over again. We started the afternoon doing stuff we usually did. Hey, we were both intellectuals—when I first got there, she was doing the Boston Globe crossword puzzle, so I helped her finish it. Then we played some chess. And then she said, "You want to go upstairs?" with a devastatingly eager look in her eye. I took a breath, and then said it. "Not if it's going to be like it was last week." "Huh?" she said, wide-eyed. "You didn't enjoy it?" "No, I did not. Chris, do you think I like hurting you?" "I thought it was supposed to hurt the first time," she said, confused. "Not like that. Not at all like that." "I don't understand," she said. That's when I really realized—she was too young for this. Despite the fact that she was 14—and had been so since March—and I was only 13. I wasn't too young for this, because of my past experience, though the events of last week made me think twice about just how young I really was. Kara wasn't too young for it because she was, well, Kara. But Chris was too young for this. Or too sheltered, or too confused, or something. Which means I should have probably put a stop to it right then. But, jeez, how could I do that? And leave her with the lingering memory of sex as the disaster that happened the previous week? I couldn't do that. And, yeah, I know—that sounds disgustingly altruistic, considering we were talking about an activity that would surely result in me getting my rocks off. But I'd gotten my rocks off even after The Disaster. That's really not what I was thinking about. "We can go upstairs. But it's going to be different," I told her. "Different?" "You'll see." She just looked at me—but we went upstairs. I got her onto her bed, and started undressing her. I undressed myself, then took her in my arms and kissed her. For a while. She went with it, but still seemed impatient. Then I started kissing my way down to her boob, while I let my hands roam lightly all over her body. She was still, I don't know, apprehensive. Agitated. "Relax, Chris, OK?" I told her before I lowered my lips to her nipple. "OK," she said. I think she did, some. I leaned my head down and took her nipple in between my lips. She sighed, just a little. I let my hand rest slightly between her legs, which she spread for me. I did this for a little bit and she seemed better than last time. Then I started kissing my way down her stomach. When I passed her belly button, she figured it out. "Ed? What are you doing?" "I thought I told you to relax," I said with a grin. I kept going. As I got my head between her legs, I looked up at her. Her expression was one of absolute shock. She couldn't believe I was about to do what I was about to do. Don't stop me, don't stop me, I thought to myself, trying to transmit it to her. Then, before she could—stop me, I mean—I dipped my tongue into the folds of her labia. She shuddered and gasped at the first contact. My hands were up around her hips, and I had felt her tense up at the contact, but then she seemed to relax. I kept going, licking up and down her labia gently. The shuddering in her breathing got more pronounced. I did that for a bit, then went after her clit—again, gently. The payoff was immediate. "Oh? OH!" she blurted. I came off of her clit, down the length of her pussy again, and then back to her clit. "OOOOOOHH!!" I kept that up for a while, up and down, and then I concentrated on her clit, making little circles around it with my tongue, nudging it as I went around. I heard her breathing get ragged and wheezing, and her hands clenched at the sheets. Then I wrapped my lips around her clit, and slipped a finger inside her pussy. She gave out a yelp at that, then hissed, "Oh, God, Eddie!" And then she went over, climaxing around my finger. I backed off, pulling my finger out and disengaging from her clit—but I didn't back off completely. I went back to running my tongue up and down her pussy, avoiding the clit, trying to work her back up. "Oh, wow!" she blurted. I kept going, listening for the ragged breathing and panting again. When it started to increase again, I pulled away. She opened her eyes and looked at me, disappointed, but I just smiled at her. I quickly slipped a condom on and entered her. Damn, she howled! I felt her pussy clamping down on my dick. Wow, she was closer than I realized. I had no trouble getting into her this time. I was gentle, but the passage was open to me. After she'd calmed down a little, I started moving inside her. And she still stayed close, panting and calling my name the whole time. She was still awfully tight—I wasn't going to last long—but at least we had copious lubrication this time. I wasn't hurting her. Just the opposite, in fact—she was rapidly climbing the Orgasm Ladder again. I was hoping to get her there before I went. As good as I was feeling, I knew this was going to be a close thing. I just barely made it. I felt her pussy clench again, as she yelped, just as I started filling the condom. I tossed the rubber, and cuddled up to her. After a few minutes, she finally stopped wheezing and opened her eyes. "Oh, God, I get it now," she gasped. "Good. That's what it should've been like last week. I'm sorry that it wasn't." "That's OK," she said, turning towards me and smiling. "It was my fault. I mean, I just didn't know. I didn't have any idea." "I know. But I did so I blame myself." "Don't," she said. "It's fixed. Boy is it ever!" "Good. I'm glad." ------- NOVEMBER 28th, 1978 So, things should've been great, right? Not quite. She was still more possessive than I liked. She was still sort of using me to validate her own self-esteem. Me with another girl, even as friends, still made her tense up. She was better at not beating me up about it, but it still made her visibly tense up, which bothered me. Knowing all that, I was about to do something that was the absolute worst thing I could ever do. But I didn't feel like I could not do what I was about to do. Sometimes you have to make a choice. One of the problems was, I couldn't completely explain the reasons for the choice to Christine. Back in the old life, as I've said, my freshman year I was at the Prep. The Prep had a Christmas semi-formal. I took Beth. It was the only thing anything like a formal dance she got to go to. There'd be no proms for Beth. This was it. It was also my first formal dance, and it was important to me that it was with Beth. I also kissed her goodnight—just a little one, but on the lips. That was her first and last for that, too. So, I'd been thinking about that ever since it was announced that Cabot JHS was going to have a Christmas dance for the 9th graders. Another semi-formal... almost like a ninth grade 'prom'. So, unexpectedly, I would get to recreate that memory, one that I cherished. Beth deserved it. Of course, now I had to tell my girlfriend—who was, remember, jealous—that I planned to take another girl to the big dance. It did not at all go well. I tried to explain. She knew Beth was sick. Well, I got down to the truth about it. "Chris, Beth is dying," I told her. "You and I will have plenty of opportunities for dances and such. We have tons of time. Beth doesn't. She deserves a night like this, once in her life." "I agree, but why can't you get someone else to ask her? Stan, or Steve, or someone." Well, that was the part I couldn't really get into, wasn't it? I wanted to take her myself because this was a memory that I would cherish. I didn't want to pass that up. Plus, Stan was—we all hoped—going to get his gumption up and ask Michelle. Steve himself had a girlfriend. I mentioned Steve's girlfriend, and said that I thought Stan had other plans. "But, besides that, Beth's my best friend." "But I'm your girlfriend!" "I know. Believe me. I didn't come to this decision without thinking about it long and hard, Chris. But I have to do this for Beth." That's when she threw the ultimatum, which wasn't unexpected. "If you take Beth to that dance, you and I are through." "That's your choice, then. I don't want to break up with you, but I am taking Beth to the dance. I'm sorry, but I can't do anything else." Then, I got up and walked away. When I tried to call Chris that night, she hung up on me. And she didn't sit with us the next day at lunch. That was that. Did I do the right thing? I think so, but I'll never know for sure. Understand, I did not do this so I could give Chris a reason to break up with me, thus weaseling out of doing it myself. Things weren't perfect with her, but I didn't have any intention of breaking up with her. Maybe, deep down, I realized she wasn't the love of my life. Maybe I realized that Beth was more important. I asked myself if I would've done the same thing if the girlfriend in question were Kara, not Chris. And then I realized it was a stupid question—because Kara would've told me to take Beth. Which pretty much answered my question, didn't it? In fact, Kara confirmed that when I whined to her that night on the phone. "Of course you should take Beth. I would've told you to," she said. "Good." "So, you and Chris are kaput?" "Yep, so I'm all alone again," I mock-sobbed. "Oh, get over yourself," she teased. "Anyhow, I don't know if you're going to stay alone for very long." "What are you talking about?" I said. "Oh, you'll find out. Just this—be alert for when opportunity knocks." "Yeah, yeah, Kara, whatever you say. So how's your love life?" She sighed. "We'll see. I have some of the same problems you do. Jim's jealous." "Ah. Am I going to get to meet this guy over Christmas break?" She cracked up. "Sure, that'll be fun. Introduce my jealous boyfriend to my ex-boyfriend that I still love. Hell, might as well!" "When I told Kelly about Chris's jealousy problems, she was amused at you coming back for Christmas and us wanting to hang around together. She anticipated Chris having a hissy fit. Ah, well, don't have to worry about that." "No, now I do!" She sighed. "It's OK. I really do like the guy, a lot. If he'd just ease up on the jealousy it'd be fine. That's really the only thing wrong." I could almost hear the grin through the phone. "Well, that and the fact that I had to teach him his way around a girl's fun bits. He had no clue. At least he's trainable!" "Oh, Jesus," I said. "Do I really want to hear about your sex life?" "Hey, you told me about you and Chris. Well, the second time. You just made vague pain noises about the first." "And let's just keep it at that, shall we? Ah, well. Now, all I'll have to tell you about is my right hand." She cracked up. "Mark my words. Opportunity's coming." "Whatever you say." ------- NOVEMBER 30th, 1978 At lunch, Michelle pulled me aside. "Can you eat with me?" I said sure, and we found a little table off to the side. "Can I have your side of the story, please?" Hey, Michelle was Chris's best friend—and here she was, calmly asking me for my side of the story. That was pretty classy. So, she got it. "That's a toughie," she said when I was done. "I see why Chris was upset. But I also completely understand why you want to take Beth. I can't blame you." "I had to, Michelle. I just wish Chris hadn't broken up with me. I'm hoping to try to talk to her after things settle down some." Michelle shook her head. "Don't count on it. She asked Adam Weller to the dance today, and he said yes. I think she's got her sights set out for him." I had to grin. "Adam's more of a nerd than I am." "Yep, which means he's overjoyed that Chris asked him, which means he'll dote on her completely. Which is what she wants." "It's funny—she broke up with me last year because I was more into it than she was. And now she's breaking up with me because I'm less." "You've both changed. You're more secure, she's less secure." She sighed. "Look, she told me what happened. I know that she thought that after you guys had sex, she owned you." "Yeah, I kind of figured that." "Especially after the second time." "The whole sex thing with her was probably a mistake," I said with a grimace. "Well, you might be interested to know that she doesn't think so. She told me that was the one good thing—that you opened her up to that possibility." "Well, that makes me feel a wee bit better." "I know the first time was a disaster, but she says the second time was a revelation." "Which was the idea. Though I didn't think we'd be breaking up three weeks later." "Upset you primed her pump for someone else?" Michelle grinned. "Not at all. I'm upset because it looks like I was just using her for sex. Which wasn't true at all." "Eddie—Chris knows that. In fact, she thought that there might be a possibility that she was using you. But the sex part isn't the problem and never was. She told me yesterday that she needs someone completely devoted to her. Which you're not." "The thing is, I was, by my lights. But her idea of devotion is insane. If we're not together, she basically wants me sitting around waiting for her phone call, or something. And when we are together, I'm supposed to pretend every one else in the world doesn't exist." I sighed. "I spent too many years with no friends. Now that I've got some, I'm not giving them up." "Nor should you. I told her she was being too overbearing, you know—not that she listened to me. Eddie, I think it's possible that the two of you just weren't meant to be." "You might be right. I still feel bad about it, though. So, anyway, how's your love life?" She threw up her hands and snorted. "What love life?" I laughed. "Oh, you laugh. You don't understand. I mean, what's my choice? I've got the guys who think the way to my heart is by talking to my chest. Or the ones that think the way to my heart is by stuttering and stammering any time they're within ten feet of me. Or the ones that think the way to my heart is by denigrating my brains." "I don't do anything like that." I said. "Oh, OK, or the ones that up until two days ago went out with my best friend!" "I know, I'm just kidding," I grinned. "I know you are," she laughed back. "But, anyhow, that's my choices. Well, except for one. The guy who likes me, treats me like a human being, looks in my eyes when he talks to me, doesn't stutter, and likes that I'm smart. The guy I really enjoy spending time with. But the guy who still won't ask me out for some stupid reason." "Ah. Are we talking, perhaps, about my good buddy Mr. Murvetsin?" "That we are," she sighed. "What is his problem?" "This is his problem, and I quote: 'Michelle Pepper? You mean, gorgeous, smart, sexy, fun to be with, great-personality Michelle Pepper? Why on earth would she ever want to go out with a schmuck like me?'" "Oh, Jesus," Michelle groaned, head in her hands. "Ed? Would you please smack him around for me?" "I'll do my best," I laughed. "I do think he intends to ask you to the dance, though." "Really?" "Yeah, but I think he's thinking of it as more like just friends." "That's fine. At least I won't be sitting home. Friends that do things together is a start." "I'll give him a nudge." "Thanks," she grinned. And I would, as soon as I could. But, that afternoon, I had more important business—securing my date to the dance. I waited for Beth after school. "Miss the bus?" she teased. "Actually, no. I wanted to talk to you." "OK," she said, and we headed out. I waited until we got to the railroad tracks. "What I wanted to talk to you about was this," I started. "I was wondering if you would go to the Christmas dance with me." She stopped, and looked at me. "What about Christine?" "Chris broke up with me." Beth grinned at me. "So, I'm second choice, eh?" "No. Chris broke up with me because I told her that I planned to ask you to the dance." "Oh, Eddie," she sighed. "Why?" "You have to ask that question?" I said pointedly. "Look, if she doesn't understand, that's her problem." "I feel bad." "Don't feel bad. This was my decision, and I'm completely happy with it, OK? So, are you gonna go with me, or what?" "Of course I'm gonna go with you!" she beamed. She stopped, and hugged me. "Thank you. You're the best friend anyone could have," she said softly. Then she pulled away, still beaming. "Oh, man, I need to go buy a dress!" "Yes you do. Knock yourself out," I grinned. ------- DECEMBER 15th, 1978 A Friday, the night of the dance. My mom drove us. Mom was good friends with Beth's mom, so she came in to help with the picture-taking. The dress was as I remembered it from the first time around. It was almost a peasant dress. The skirt and up to the bodice were in a floral print, with sliver/gray being the predominant color, with blacks and deep purples swirled throughout. The bodice was black, with that floral pattern trimming it. The sleeves were white. It looked fabulous on her. The predominant gray and white of it contrasted nicely with her dark skin. She had her hair up, and wore just the right amount of makeup. She was gorgeous. We actually had a better time than we did at the dance at the Prep the first time around. We had a good time then, but we didn't really know anyone—that dance was for the whole school. I was a freshman, and few of my friends went—we ended up at a table full of seniors. They were very cool, but Beth was shy and I wasn't much better. This time, we were with friends. Stan actually did manage to ask Michelle and they were there. Steve brought his girlfriend. Kelly came with Stan's pal Rob Silverman (just as friends). Danica was there with a guy I didn't know. Beth's best girlfriend, Kerry, came with Joe Vizcano. We all sat together. They had it at school, in the cafeteria. All the dances at Cabot East were in the cafeteria, but they had really done the place up nice. They had it catered, so the food wasn't the usual cafeteria slop. We ate together and had a great time. Then we danced, a lot. We were both decent, and we both liked to dance. Beth had a great time, which was the objective. We even traded off a bit—Stan asked Beth for a dance, which she happily agreed with—so I danced with Michelle for a song. Joe Vizcano did the same, as did Steve, and Rob. I could've kissed them. Beth was happy, having a good time, feeling attractive. It was worth it—even with the loss of Christine, it was all worth it. I danced with Kelly while Rob was dancing with Beth, and Kelly leaned in and whispered, "You are a good guy. You did a really, really good thing tonight. Don't you ever forget that." I danced with Steve's date, whose name was Maria, and she told me she knew all about Beth and had encouraged Steve to dance with her. I danced with Kerry while Beth was dancing with Joe, and Kerry was thrilled that Beth was having such a good time. It was a magical evening, even better than the one the first time. Afterwards, Beth was positively bubbly, something she usually wasn't. I was just thrilled. My mom drove us to her house, and I walked her to the door. Then I kissed her goodnight. She just beamed at me, and then wrapped me in a bear hug. "Thank you. You have no idea how much this meant to me." "Yeah, I think I do," I said, and kissed her on the cheek. She opened the door and went inside, smiling at me. Then I got back in the car. Mom—who, of course, knew the whole thing with Beth—said, "She had a good time?" "She had a very good time." "That's good," Mom said. "Yes. Yes it is." ------- Chapter 7 "Cast Your Dancing Spell My Way, I Promise To Go Under It" DECEMBER 22, 1978 The week of the dance, my mother had been diagnosed with throat cancer. Mom and Dad waited until the day after the dance, the 16th, to tell me. Of course I knew it was coming. This had happened the first time around. It was from smoking. She had a tumor on her vocal cords. It was taken care of by radiation, and she was fine. She quit smoking, and that was that. When I 'came back' in 2007, my mom was still around--and that was after another bout with cancer, this time breast cancer, in the late eighties. So, I wasn't worried. However, I guess my parents were surprised at my lack of worry. This was one of the problems with this return-trip thing. I knew how certain things were going to work out, and didn't react the way I should have if I didn't have that advance knowledge. Mom was going to be fine, so I really didn't worry. This night, a Friday night, my dad called me on it. Mom was out, and my brother and sister were in bed. We were just chatting, Dad and I, when he brought it up. "Your mother's going through a rough time right now, and she's under the impression that you don't really care." Wow--that wasn't what I was trying to do. I realized I was going to have to cover, and it was only partially a cover. "That's not true, Dad," I told him. "I know she's going through some shit. I guess I'm just not that worried." "Well, I know her prognosis is good, but she is worried." "Of course she is, it's her that it's happening to," I said. "But I have enough to worry about, honestly. What you guys told me is that she's going to be fine. I know the radiation isn't going to be any fun, and I'll try to help her out, but I can only worry about so much." "What do you have to worry about, breaking up with a girlfriend?" he snorted. "No, and you know it," I retorted. "I went to a dance last week. Who was it that I took?" "Beth," he said, still not getting it. That surprised me. Dad usually caught a clue. "Right. So there's two people close to me that are sick. And only one of them has much of a chance of getting better, and that's Mom." Dad looked at me. "You realize this?" "Yeah," I said. "Your mother and I have wondered. Let's face it, Ed, you can sometimes be oblivious." "Not lately, have you noticed that? I accepted what was happening to Beth some time ago. Why do you think I, basically, blew off a girlfriend--and got dumped for my trouble--so I could take Beth to that dance?" "Wait a minute," Dad said. "I thought you asked Beth because what's-her-name dumped you?" "Other way around, Dad. I told Christine that I was going to ask Beth to that dance. Christine's jealous to begin with, and even though she knows Beth is sick, she insisted I take her to the dance, or we were through. I stuck to my guns. Beth needed to go to that dance." Dad looked at me like I had three heads. Then, finally, he said, "I'm sorry, Ed. I didn't give you enough credit. You really are maturing." Little did he know--technically, I was older than he was! "I didn't get the events correctly." He grinned at me. "And you'd seemed preoccupied with girls lately. Not Beth, I know you and she are just friends. You seemed preoccupied with, you know, girlfriends." "I'm not going to admit I don't enjoy having a girlfriend," I grinned back. "But Christine was just a diversion. Kara was different, but she's away at school now. And she told me straight out that if she had still been around she would've agreed with me taking Beth to the dance. Anyhow, I like girlfriends, and wouldn't mind getting another one soon, but Beth is Beth." "Yeah," he said, then stared down at his bottle, which was just about empty. "Mind getting me another beer?" "Sure," I said, and walked out into the kitchen. That's when I thought. This was the first real talk I'd had with my Dad since my return. I wasn't going to tell him what was up, but maybe he'd realize I was a little more mature than he'd thought. I returned with the beer. "You bring me two?" he said. "Nah. This one's for me," I said, popping the top off and taking a slug of it. "I really do wish you'd buy something other than this Budweiser swill, though. Next time you drop by the packie, can you get some Heineken or something?" He just looked at me. "How the hell old are you?" "I'll be 14 next month." "That's old enough to steal my beer?" "How old were you, Dad?" I knew it was younger than 14. I also knew, despite the token protest, that Dad was liberal--especially about his kids drinking at home. "All right, good point," he laughed. "Heineken, huh? Where'd you pick up such refined tastes?" "I've had it once or twice." "You're too young to drink," he said, half-heartedly. "I'm too young for lots of things. I think I can handle them." "You do, do you?" "Yeah, I do. You wanna talk about Beth? Let's talk about Beth. She's dying. She'll be fifteen in April, and she's feeling pretty good so she might make that. I'd lay any amount of money down that fifteen is the last birthday she sees." "Yeah," he said sadly. "Dad, she's my best friend, and she's dying. Beer? Beer is nothing. Waiting for my best friend to die--hell, I'm surprised I don't drink more. And there's other things." I took a pull from the beer. "You remember your first love?" "Sure do," he grinned. "Margie Wilson. Damn, she was hot. I was, let me think--16 or 17." "How'd it end?" "Badly," he admitted. "She dumped me. I was an asshole to her for a while thereafter." "Right," I said. "Look how I'm handling Kara. We're still friends, for goodness' sake. I'm 13 years old. I should be a basket case. I'm not." "Well, I think it was a little different," Dad said. "Margie was my first. You know. That puts a different dimension on things." I smiled to myself. Mom would never be able to handle this, but Dad could. "Dad. Do you think Kara and I spent all our time at the movies or something?" "Well, no, but I'm not talking about just making out or copping a feel." "Neither am I," I told him. "You're talking about sex. So am I. Kara and I had sex, Dad. Repeatedly." My poor Dad--he almost dropped the beer. "WHAT?" "You heard me. Oh, and I hope you realize I'm comfortable talking to you, but if you tell Mom this I'll never forgive you." "Do you think I go looking for trouble?" he said with a wry smirk. "Your mother would have a stroke. But, jeez, Ed, I don't know how happy I am about this. 13 years old, and you're having sex?" "I can handle it. And, yes, before you ask--we were careful." "Good. Please tell me you didn't twist her arm." "Of course not. In fact, it was her idea. She wanted me to be her first. We probably would've waited some if she wasn't going away to school, but she was, so we didn't wait." "What about the other one?" "Christine? Yeah. Though that was probably a mistake. She initiated that, too, but for the wrong reasons. I should've said no. But it seems to not have scarred her, even though we broke up." "I don't know any 13 year old boy that could say no to an offer of sex," Dad grinned. "Why did she initiate it?" "Couple reasons. A lot of it was to 'give me what I wanted', you know? To hold onto me. But part of it was she knew about Kara, and knew Kara enjoyed it." "Word got around about Kara?" he said suspiciously. "Yes, but not from me. Talking is stupid." I grinned. "However, Kara got carried away at Sara's Fourth of July party last summer and spilled the beans to her whole crowd. The only person I told, before you, was Beth." "You told Beth?" "I can trust Beth, and I know it," I said. "Besides, that was an interesting discussion." I chuckled. "You know how Catholic Beth is. I think she's convinced I'm going to hell." Dad laughed at that. "Your mother would agree with her." "Yeah, true, but Beth knows I don't. My religious beliefs are more in line with yours than Mom's." "What do you think my religious beliefs are?" We'd discussed this the first time around, but much later in life, though I'd seen the signs earlier. So I answered from that perspective. "I'm guessing you pretty much don't have any." "You'd be right," Dad said. "Though I told your mother I wouldn't interfere with that part of bringing you guys up." "And you didn't. I came to this conclusion all on my own. That's the reason I couldn't tell you--well, couldn't tell Mom--about why I didn't want to go to the Prep. Four years of Catholic school didn't at all appeal to me." "I don't know if I believe in God or not," Dad said. "You'd probably call me an agnostic. But I know I do not have any use for churches or organized religion or any of that." "We're in complete agreement. That's what I talked to Beth about. I told her that, even if there were a God, I don't think he cares who or when we screw." "Please tell me you're not trying to get Beth into bed with that line," Dad spat. "Are you kidding me? Nope. Beth's like my sister. Plus, she's sick. Plus, she still wouldn't go for it even if I was interested--she's still too Catholic for that. I told her what I thought but I don't think she agreed with me. I wouldn't try anyway." "I thought so, but sometimes you worry me." "Nope, no worries there. Especially in her present condition. Hey, if she weren't sick? Maybe we'd try dating; we've always gotten along. Though I doubt it would ever get that far considering that whole Catholic thing. But, with her sick--hey, that's the last thing she needs. She needs friendship. That's what she gets." "I hope you keep that up." "I plan on it." "Good." He looked down at his bottle. "Hey, go get me another beer, eh? And I suppose you can grab another one for yourself." ------- DECEMBER 23rd, 1978 Beth and I went to do some last-minute Christmas shopping. Mom dropped us off at the mall, and we fought the crowds for the afternoon. It was, well, a little tense. This had happened the first time around, and I remember it being a little tense then, too. This was the beginning, I could see it coming--she was about to start pushing me away, as she did the last time. "You going to Danica's New Year's Eve party?" I asked her. "I don't think so," she replied. "You should." She sighed. "I just don't think it's a good idea," she said. OK, so I was going to let her off the hook for that, specifically. I wasn't going to let her off the hook otherwise. You see, the first time around, this shopping trip had been the last time I'd seen her alive. I'd called her, and she'd brushed me off, so I let it go. This time, I wasn't going to let it go. "Something wrong?" I asked her. "No," she said. "Don't lie to me," I said. "Beth, something's bothering you. Come on, fess up." She wouldn't. I wasn't about to stop trying, however. ------- DECEMBER 31st, 1978 Christmas was fine. The week afterwards, I tried to make plans with Beth and she blew me off. I was going to have to bring this to a head, and soon, or the same thing was going to happen. However, I went to Danica's party. I decided to just enjoy myself here. Almost all my friends were there, and I was just determined to have a good time. Little did I know exactly what was going to happen. I met Kara's new boyfriend. I sensed she was a little disillusioned with him. He'd come up for the party from wherever he lived, Rhode Island or something--Kara's parents were even going to let him sleep on the couch--but he wasn't treating Kara very well. It was what she had talked about, that whole jealousy thing. Eventually, he blew her off, and started hanging around with the guys. Considering the gut-wrench I figured I was about to go through with Beth, and considering what I saw watching Kara and Jim--well, maybe I was glad I didn't have a girlfriend right at that moment! I was probably better off, I thought to myself. Just hanging with friends, making sure things were all right with Beth, concentrating on schoolwork. Maybe that was better. Well, you know what they say about best-laid plans. Kara came and sat next to me. "How's things?" I asked. She sighed. "You know, if he doesn't wise up, he's getting dumped." "Good, I was hoping you weren't being bamboozled." "Me? Not hardly. Hey, I like Jim, but I don't love him. And he makes me like him less and less with this shit. I do have other options. There's a cute guy in one of my classes that follows me around like a puppy." "What's his name, Ed Bovilas The Second?" I laughed. "Nah, he's not that bad," she teased. "Ouch." "Sorry, couldn't resist. Anyhow, let's stop talking about my love life. Let's talk about yours." "OK, we can talk about my love life," I said with a smirk. "There. We're done. The world's shortest conversation." "You think," she said, playfully whapping me on the arm. "Listen. I told you, back in November, after Chris dumped you--I told you opportunity was going to be knocking." "It must have lost my address," I teased. "You just be quiet. Now, really--listen to me. It's going to knock. And I know all about it, OK? You have to understand that. I know all about it." "Kara, what are you talking about?" "You'll understand, trust me. Just remember, I want the people I love to be happy, OK? I want the people I care about to be happy, and I know all about it. Just remember all that." "Whatever you say," I said. "Good. Trust me. Anyhow, I have to go kick my boyfriend's ass. See you later." With that, she was gone. I had to shake my head in puzzlement, and bemusement. I had absolutely no idea what Kara had just been going on about. After a while, with the party in full swing and me chatting with everyone, I forgot about it. About a half hour later, I got up to fetch a soda. When I went back to the couch I'd spent most of the night sitting on, it was empty. So, I grabbed my seat back, figuring someone would drift over sooner or later. I liked grabbing a seat at a party and having the party revolve all around. Shortly thereafter, Kelly showed up and plopped down next to me. "Hey, you," she said. "Hiya, Kel. What's up?" "Not much. Good party, huh?" "Yeah, it's good." "So. I saw Kara sitting down here a while ago. Did you tell her to smack her boyfriend around?" Kelly snorted. "Not in so many words, but, yeah, pretty much. I think she's pretty fed up." "She should be. So, what else did you guys talk about?" I wondered why she was asking this, but I answered her. "Well, Kara was trying to talk about my love life, but I didn't understand a friggin' word she said. She's being very cryptic this evening," I laughed. "Ah. I'm guessing she said something about opportunity knocking, and how she knows about it?" I looked at Kelly, surprised. "Well, yes. How did you know that?" She smiled, and moved closer to me on the couch. Then she softly said, "Knock knock," leaned over, and kissed me. I did not see this coming! I mean, Kelly and I were friends. Furthermore, she was Kara's best friend! She was the absolute last person I expect to be sitting here kissing me. But here she was. She broke the kiss and flashed me a huge smile. "Kelly Cullinane, what the heck is going on?" She laughed. "You're not stupid, Ed. Figure it out." "It seems like you're coming on to me." "And, look, it only took you one guess! See, I knew you weren't stupid." She looked at me. "Remember what Kara told you, she knew about this." "Ah," I said, finally understanding that bit. "But where did this come from?" Kelly looked down. "Do you remember, back in like third and fourth grade, when you had a crush on me?" "Sure." "Well, I never had the guts to tell you this, but it was returned. And, honestly, it never really went away. And then you fell for Kara. Well, Kara's my best friend, so I didn't want to get in the middle of that. Although I'll admit there were a few times when she was blowing you off that I wanted to smack you around to get you to wise up! "Then she said yes, and you two started going out. I was happy for you guys, really. She is my best friend, after all. I managed to be happy and not get jealous. Then she left, and you guys broke up. I dithered about it for a while, because I knew I wanted to go out with you and knew I'd have to talk to Kara first, and hadn't had a chance. "Then you started going out with Christine. That did make me jealous, I'll admit. And I'd talked to Kara and she'd told me to go with it, but you had Christine. When you guys finally broke up, my first thought was to ask you to the dance. Then Kara told me why you and Chris broke up, and I certainly wasn't going to get in the way of you taking Beth to the dance, because I thought that was a good thing. So, I figured, tonight was my chance." "Wait a minute," I said, my head reeling from her discourse. "You're saying you like me?" "Uh-huh," she said, grinning. "In that way?" "Uh-huh." "So you want to, what, go out with me?" "Most definitely." "Wow. I did not see this coming." "I know you didn't. I was completely scared to say anything--and then there was Kara. So, you didn't have any way of knowing. Now you do." I looked at her. "It took you a lot of guts to say it now, didn't it?" She laughed. "Well, I think desperation is closer." "Desperate about me?" "I figured this was probably my last chance," she said. Then she looked down. "So," she practically whispered, "what do you think?" That was a good question, now, wasn't it? I hadn't really thought about it at all. I mean, she was Kara's best friend, so I didn't allow myself to think about it. But Kara, apparently, was all for it. So, what did I think? Well, Kelly was definitely cute. She had a pixie face, with dark reddish-blonde hair. More importantly, she had a great personality. She was upbeat, happy, and a lot of fun. She was very popular because of all that. She was almost impossible to dislike. However, she was also very smart and could think--her usual upbeat demeanor was not because of empty-headedness or anything like that. Kelly was no doormat. She just had a good way of dealing with things. Hell, being in a back brace--she dealt with that a lot better than most people would have--and that includes me. She just had a sunny disposition, but wasn't an airhead. As an added bonus, we'd always been friends. The only time she'd ever turned on me even for an instant was in fifth grade when I got in that fight with Patrick. And I didn't blame her for that. Family loyalty ran deep in my own family, so I could understand it. Plus, it hadn't lasted long, and then she was her usual self. Since my recycling last year, we'd been particularly close friends. That's when it hit me--we'd been particularly close friends even though she wanted to go out with me and I was going out with her best friend. Even with that, we were still close friends. Wow. I mean, wow. Is that friendship, or what? And a good and solid friendship is the best foundation for something more, isn't it? The more I thought about it, the easier it got. "What do I think?" I finally said to her. "I think we should go out. That's what I think." "YES!" she hissed, then launched herself into my lap and started kissing me again. The funny part was that we were in the middle of a party and nobody even noticed. Well, except for Kara, who walked by and flashed us a thumbs-up! ------- JANUARY 6th, 1979 It was a little weird. The day after the party, the first of the year, was on a Monday--so, we were right back in school the next day, a Tuesday. Which meant that Kelly and I went back to school as a couple. Even though we hadn't had an actual date yet! That was rectified on this day, a Saturday. We were going to go to the shopping center, then go see Superman The Movie. It was a frigid cold day so my Mom agreed to drive us. We got to the mall and went to find some lunch. Sitting and eating it, we chatted. "My brother gave me the brotherly lecture when he found out we were going out," she said. "He did?" I asked, surprised. "Yeah. I think I settled him down." "I thought he liked me. We've been getting along." "He does," she said, "but... well, it's what Kara told everyone that you guys did. And he worries about me." I sighed. "This was one of the reasons I wasn't crazy about Kara telling." "You weren't?" she said. "I thought you would have loved it. Why weren't you happy?" "Because it sets up weird and awkward situations. Like this one. Kelly, I'm 14 years old--actually, not even, my birthday is in four days. And I'm on a first date. And we're talking about sex. And your brother--who I consider a friend--found it necessary to warn you about me. As an added bonus, it probably fucked up my relationship with Christine." "You had sex with Christine?" "Yes, and I feel horrible about it. It was her idea, but it was for the wrong reasons, I went along with it because I was thinking with my you-know-what, and the first time was a disaster. The next few times were better, but still. And here we are, talking about it. It worries me." "OK," she said, "you want me to lay it on the line?" I nodded. "Fine. I will not deny that Kara's descriptions have me, well, interested. And I think it is possible that we will have sex. But not now. I'm not ready. It's not going to happen right away." "Good. Fine. Wonderful. Hallelujiah, even," I said. She giggled. "Good. And I will set the pace." "Agreed, except I reserve the right to slow you down." "Sure." Then she blinked. "You'd do that?" "I might. I'll be honest, if you wanted to have sex right now, I'd turn you down. I'd be suspicious of your motives, just like I should have been with Christine." "What were her motives?" "To claim me, put her mark on me, that kind of thing." "Ah," she said, then grinned. "It couldn't have been that she was hot for your body, you stud?" I broke up laughing. "Yeah, OK, that must be it." "Anyhow, I don't feel the need to claim you. I'm not really the jealous type. I figure if you're going out with me, then you're going out with me. And if we both stay happy then it'll continue to go on. I certainly don't mind that you have female friends--most especially Beth." "Ah, that's a sore spot." "Really? What's up?" she asked. I explained the situation. "Ah," she said. "Eddie? Keep pushing, OK? If you don't, you'll regret it, a lot." Damn, was she perceptive or what? It took me years to realize that, and only after it was too late, the first time around. "I know. You are right." ------- JANUARY 8th, 1979 Kelly grabbed me at lunch in school. "Where's Beth?" "Over there, with Olivia." "Let's go invade their table," she laughed. "Like I said, keep pushing." "Actually, I'm going to take care of this myself. Don't look for me on the bus this afternoon." "Ah, OK. Good plan," she said. We went and ate with the usual crowd. I got out of school in a hurry that day, walked down the road, into the beginning of the railroad tracks, and waited. Beth came along shortly thereafter. "Hey," I said. She looked up. "Eddie? What are you doing here?" "I wanted to talk to you." "Well, I'm kind of in a hurry, I have things to do at home." I took a deep breath. "Beth? Stop it." "Stop what?" "Stop avoiding me. Stop pushing me away. I know that's exactly what you are doing, and I'm not going to let you get away with it anymore." "Oh, no, it's just that I've been busy." "Elizabeth Marie Trovini, you are a terrible liar." She blinked, and took a breath. Then she said, very softly, "I just don't want you to get too attached to me." "Sorry, too late." "That's the point. I don't want it to get any worse." I took a breath. I needed to get through to her. "So, you're going to commit suicide?" "WHAT?" she said, shocked. "Let's spare everyone some pain, right? Get it over with." "My God, Eddie, you really think I'd do that?" "No, I don't think you'd do that," I said, and then paused. "Except to me." She stopped, and blinked, and looked at me. "Oh, shit. I am, aren't I?" Good, that was proof I'd gotten through to her. Beth pretty much never swore. "Yep," I said. "That's what you're doing, and it stops right now." She smiled at me. "OK. You're right. I just thought I might spare you some pain." "But you wouldn't have. You'd have just made it worse." Boy, did I know that for a fact! "OK. And, I'll admit it, I've missed you." "Good," I said with a grin. "I missed you, too. I have nobody to talk to. I have nobody to tell cool stuff to--like this one: I started going out with Kelly this week." "Another one for the list," she grinned. "At least I stuck around long enough to see Ed Bovilas become a lady-killer. Who would've ever guessed that?" "You just shut up." We walked to her house, bantering as usual. It was delightful. I did it. The thing I didn't do the first time--I did it this time. I stopped the push-away. I was so damn happy about it I can't even express it. FEBRUARY, 20th, 1979 As my relationship with Beth went back to its previous easy friendship, I also had Kelly to worry about. Though there wasn't much worry involved. It was very easy. Look, I'd liked Kelly forever, so it was an easy decision to go out with her. But she'd asked me out. It was different. I'd been so besotted with Kara before we ever went out, our first few dates were rather nerve-wracking. It wasn't that way with Kelly, as she'd first pursued me. And we'd been friends for a while, so we kind of just eased into things. I quickly discovered something--Kelly was really, really good for me. Let's face it--I wasn't quite normal. Even before we started talking about someone that went back in time. I was still kind of skittish and worried. The spazziness that had been a feature of my personality the first time around hadn't completely gone away, and it sometimes seemed like I was still constantly looking over my shoulder. Beth's illness didn't help. Kelly was just the antithesis of that. She calmed me down with her relentlessly upbeat attitude. There was a lot of laughter in our relationship, which was just what I needed. She loved me, simple as that, and she wanted both of us to be happy. You know what? We were. I fell in love with her in a damn hurry. It just seemed so natural for us to be together. Even my Dad noticed it. "I know you loved Kara, but it almost seemed like you were waiting for the other shoe to drop." "Well, that's because I knew it was going to drop, when she went away to school," I told him. "True. But, with Kelly, you're just happy--period." "I agree. She's great." This day, February 20th, was a Tuesday, in the middle of February vacation. I hadn't expected to see her. In fact, I was playing street hockey with the neighborhood gang. This was the first year I'd really started hanging out with them. I was the oldest person in the gang. The closest in age to me were Deirdre Neeland (whom everyone called DeeDee, or Dee) and Craig Gouliere. Both were two years younger. DeeDee's younger brother, George, was over six years younger than me--I'd just turned 14, he wasn't 8 yet. But he was the best athlete on the street, so he played with all us older guys. We generally congregated at the Neeland's. We played basketball in their yard, and street hockey out in front of their house, at the top of Hereford St. DeeDee and George had a sister, Lynne, who was in the middle age-wise. The first time around, I'd had a terrific crush on DeeDee. That was the first of many crushes I had on girls in the neighborhood gang. It went from Dee to one of her friends. Later it was Lynne's best friend Katrina Radniak. Just an example of how desperate I was in those days. However, now, at 14, it should've been Dee that I had the crush on. Of course, I had Kelly. And I realized how silly my crush on Dee was in the first place. Of course, funny things happen. Dee showed signs of having a crush on me. The allure of the unavailable, I guess. Though, she didn't know I was unavailable--I didn't really talk about Kelly with the neighborhood crew--I just didn't show any interest. Jeez, if I had figured out the secret of aloofness the first time around, who knows what would've happened! Anyhow, on this day, it was right after lunch and we were playing street hockey. George and Craig were there. Also there were Tim and Mark Tremblay, two guys from down the street. Jerry Barberie, who lived a few doors down from the Neelands and who was best friends with Craig also played. Tim's two best friends, Keith Wills and Kenny Simmons, often played with us and they were there. The roster was filled out with Brendan and Rick O'Malley, who lived around the corner. We were all playing, and a few of the girls were watching us--Dee and Lynne. Dee's two best friends Penny McGill and Melissa Nellis were hanging out with Dee, sitting on the Neelands' front steps. (Melissa was the one I eventually had a crush on the first time around.) They were kind of watching us, but not really. Penny, by the way, hated my guts. The game was proceeding nicely. I love street hockey. I was playing defense, and a ball got by me. They didn't score, the shot went past the net, but the problem with that was the hill that sloped down Hereford Street. Every time a ball got past on that side, it was a chase to the bottom of the hill. That's what I went to do, but, when I looked up, the ball was being scooped up by someone. She stood up--and it was Kelly. I couldn't help it--my face just broke out into a wide-ass grin. She returned it. "Looking for something?" she said, holding up the ball. "Hey, lady, can we have our ball back?" I teased. "I don't know," she said, starting to walk up the hill. "What do I get for it?" "Our undying gratitude?" "Try again." "Good karma?" "You can do better than that." By this time she'd made it up the hill and was standing in front of me. "Well, then, how about this?" I took my hockey stick in both hands, hooked it behind her back, pulled her close, and kissed her. A good long one. "Hmmm," she purred after we broke the kiss, "I guess that's a fair trade." She handed me the ball. "What are you doing here?" "I wanted to see you. That OK?" "Of course. You want me to hang up the game?" "Nah, go play for a bit," she said, grinning and waving at the playing area. "I'll watch." I turned back towards the game, and saw everyone there looking at me in astonishment. Like I said, I hadn't talked about Kelly to them. "That's the gang. Gang, this is Kelly, my girlfriend." "You have a girlfriend?" Craig said in disbelief. "You mean you don't talk about me all the time?" Kelly mock-pouted. "I think I'm hurt." "This crowd would never believe me. They all think I'm a dork." "You are a dork. But you're my dork," she said. "Kelly, honey, love of my life?" "Yes, dear?" "Go suck an egg." She grinned, walked over to me, and whispered in my ear, "Oh, I can think of far better things than an egg to suck." I gaped at her for a second, then laughed so hard I almost dropped my hockey stick. Our relationship had not gotten that physical by that point. What a brat. I loved it! She walked over to the porch. "Hi, I'm Kelly," she told the girls gathered there. "I'm Eddie's girlfriend." "Eddie has a girlfriend?" Penny sneered. "Oh, Penny, shut up," DeeDee said. "I'm DeeDee, or Dee." "Or Dierdre," I butt in. "The only two people who ever call me Dierdre are Mom, and you," she retorted. "That's my sister Lynne. These are my friends Penny and Melissa." We started getting the game back together then. "She's very cute," Craig said to me as we set up for the face-off. "That she is." We got back into it. It was 3-3 and we were playing to 5. They almost got one--Craig had an empty net, and Rick, our goalie, was out of position. But I blocked it. Like I said, I liked to play defense. Those damn hard orange street hockey balls hurt like hell, though, and I took that one right off my shoulder! "Just don't get hit in the mouth," Kelly shouted with a giggle, "I'm expecting some kissing later!" I just grinned and waved at her. We got a good offensive series going after that. Brendan O'Malley, who was on my team, was the best hockey player in the neighborhood, even at 9 years old. The first time around, he ended up playing major college hockey, was drafted by an NHL team, and spent a few years in the minors. He never did make it to the NHL, but still. We were all rank amateurs. That gave you an idea of how good Brendan was compared to the rest of us. Anyway, we had an offensive flurry. Brendan was in tight, by their net, with the ball. They closed in on him, and he made an absolutely gorgeous pass back to me at the point. I hit a one-timer, and their goalie--Mark Tremblay--wasn't quick enough. 4-3, us. Kelly squealed, which was fun! They tied it up shortly thereafter, as Craig got around me and tucked one behind our goalie, Brendan's brother Rick. I wasn't happy. We won the game right afterwards though. This time it was me passing to Brendan, who poked it home. "Good game," Craig said afterwards. "Want to go again?" "Not for me. I think there's someone over on the porch that needs my attention." "Darn straight!" Kelly said. There wasn't enough room on the small porch, so I sat down on the ground in the front yard. Kelly quickly got up off the porch and settled in front of me, sitting between my legs. I wrapped my arms around her waist. "So," she said to me, "why is it that all these people are surprised you have a girlfriend?" "Because I'm me," I said with a shrug. "Oh, yeah, that explains everything," she laughed. "We're amazed because none of us would ever go out with him." Melissa sneered. Yeah, I found that out the hard way the first time around. Bitch. "I mean, can you imagine getting asked out by Ed Bovilas?" she continued, sharing a nasty little laugh with Penny. "Actually, I can't, either," Kelly said with a fake-sweet little smile, "because I asked him out." "Excuse me?" Penny said, amazed. "Well, you have to understand. Last year, he went out with my best friend Kara. I liked Eddie back then, but he was ga-ga over Kara and I didn't want to interfere with that. Anyhow, Kara's away at school, and they decided to break up because they'd never see each other." "Very amicably," I added. "Kara's still one of my best friends. We write back and forth all the time." "Right. But they're not dating. And I wanted to go out with Eddie, but knew he'd never ask, out of respect to Kara. So, I cleared it with Kara. Kara gave him a little hint that it would be OK with her--and then I attacked him at a New Year's Eve party." "Took me completely by surprise," I added. "It sure did! Anyhow, we've been together ever since." "That's actually kind of sweet," Dee said. "Kara must be a very generous person." "Or eager to dump Eddie on someone else," Penny sniggered. "Not at all," Kelly told her. "Like I said, Kara's away at boarding school. She loves both of us and wants us to be happy. We make each other happy, and she knew that would happen, simple as that." "Heck, she's on her second boyfriend at school," I laughed. "She dumped one right after Christmas and found a new one about a month ago." "We worked all this out. I know it's a little unusual, but we're happy," Kelly told them. "But you broke up with Kara because of distance, not because you don't love each other or anything, right?" Dee asked. I nodded. "So what if she comes and says she wants you back?" Kelly stiffened in my arms at that question. She was worried about this? Time to put those worries to rest. "You mean, if she wants me back and I'm still with Kelly?" I asked. Dee nodded. "Nope. No way. First of all, she wouldn't, ever. But even if she did--no way. Look, Kara will always be special to me. But I'm in love with Kelly and very happy, so no way. I would never betray Kelly like that. Kara knows the score." Kelly had relaxed when I first said, "No way," but she stiffened again in the middle of that. We chatted with my friends for a while afterwards, so I waited until we were walking back to my house that I asked her about it. "Are you OK? You seemed upset when I was talking about Kara." "I'll be honest, I've worried about that," she admitted. "I'm glad you answered the way you did." "OK, but you kind of went stiff again after I said what I said about Kara." "Well," she said, "it's just that, well... that's the first time you ever said you were in love with me." She's right. It was. And I hadn't done it very well, had I? I stopped her, right in the middle of the street, and turned her towards me. I looked right in her eyes and said, "I love you, Kelly Cullinane." "I love you, too," she said softly, with a little smile. Then she hugged me. For a good couple of minutes. And she only broke the hug because a car was coming down the street and we were in the way! We went back to my house. Mom invited Kelly to stay for dinner, and she called her mom and got permission. It was great--she even got along with my bratty brother and sister. Afterwards, we ended up in the living room, alone, just chatting. "I worry about it. I've never told you this, but you kind of opened the door today. I worry about Kara. I know you still love her. I wondered if I was just a substitute or something." Her voice dropped. "Plus, you did things with her. Things that I'm not ready for." "That doesn't matter," I told her. "Whenever you're ready is fine with me." And I meant that. "Hey, I started early, and I know it. It just happened that way. And I'm not going to deny for a second that you turn me on." "I do?" she said with a little giggle. "You bet you do. But I can wait, really. It's not a problem. As for the other thing--well, it's what I said. Kara will always be special to me. But I really, truly love you. I don't think I've ever been this happy." "Really?" "Really. We're very compatible." "Good, I thought it was just me that saw how compatible we are!" "Nope. I see it more and more every day." That made her very happy. She leaned over and gave me a good long kiss. ------- MARCH 2, 1979 This was a Friday. I got a very unusual request this day from Beth. "Hey, can you come somewhere with me this afternoon?" "Sure. Where?" "Olivia's house. She has a date. I helped her buy a couple new outfits last week, but she's panicking and wants help picking one out and doing her hair and all that. I need the male perspective." "Sure. Livvie has a date?" Beth grinned. "With Dennis Boulier." Oy. I'm not sure I liked that. "Dennis Boulier? I'm not sure I trust that guy as far as I can throw him. He's a bit scary." "To be honest, I have the same worries. But he and Livvie really get along well, and he asked her out, and I'm thrilled for her." "OK," I shrugged. "Whatever she wants." We met after school, and walked to Olivia's. She was apparently already headed home. She lived very close by to the Junior High, it wasn't a long walk at all. On the way, Beth and I talked. "Olivia is in denial. Complete denial--about me, I mean." She sighed. "When I became friends with her, I didn't intend for this to happen. I'm wondering if my friendship is going to hurt her in the long run. She's not going to be able to deal with it." "That's tough," I told her. "I almost can't blame her, though. I mean, to all appearances, you look and act completely healthy. There are times that I have to resist being in denial." I probably would be, actually, without the foreknowledge. "Livvie sees you the way you are, you know what I mean?" "Yes, I do," Beth replied. "There are times when it's hard for me not to go into denial. Because I do feel good. But it's like there's an alarm clock hanging over my head, the alarm is set, it's gonna go off--and I have no idea when." "Livvie can't see the alarm clock at all, though, is what you're telling me." "Right." By that time, we'd arrived at Olivia's house. And I realized a whole lot about Olivia in a very short time. First of all, she was horrified Beth had brought me. Beth explained that she wanted the male point-of-view. Beth had apparently been in Olivia's house before, so Olivia was comfortable with her there, but was embarrassed for me to be there. I soon found out why. First of all, Olivia lived in a housing project right behind the Junior High. Look, Cabot was a suburb--I'm not talking about a housing project in Chicago or Boston or anything like that. From the outside, the neat duplexes were well-kept and pretty. But just living there meant you didn't have money. I realized more when I went inside. Olivia's mother was there, drunk as a skunk. Evidently her father was gone. She had two older brothers, who I knew from sight. They went to the vocational school, which was attached to the Junior High--and they were both bad news. Drugs, drinking, bullying, the whole bit. With an absent father, an all-but-absent mother, and two brothers who were brutes--I strongly suspected that Livvie took some abuse in this house. She quickly steered Beth and me to her room. At least she had her own room, and she'd quite obviously carved out a place of solace for herself there. It was the only room in the house that was neat and clean. She had nicely arranged her threadbare belongings. It was her home--the only place in the whole house that felt like any kind of 'home'. It was a crushing experience. I knew she had few friends. She had few material possessions. She had very little in the way of a social life. Now I quickly realized she had nothing that could reasonably be called a real 'family', either. I got a lot of this at first glance--the dots were connected by Beth as we walked to her house afterwards. I was right, about everything. Livvie's life was a nightmare, for the most part. I hoped beyond all reasonable hope that her date with Dennis Boulier would work out, and that they'd find something with each other. Because, if it didn't--well, really, Beth had become pretty much all that Olivia had. And Beth was dying. I didn't even want to think about it. I got home for supper and, after supper, got a call from Kelly. She immediately heard something in my voice and asked her mother to drive me to her house. It was just what I needed, and she instinctively knew that. We had a long talk, which ended with us in the closest thing to a make-out session we'd ever had. Clothes stayed on, but my hands were all over her, with her encouragement. It made me feel better. I was still worried, about a lot of things, but Kelly had a way of just making me feel better about my place in the world. The difference between this and the first time around was almost night and day. The first time around, there was no Kelly. ------- MARCH 17th, 1979 We got lucky. It was a Saturday, and it was unseasonably warm for March in Massachusetts. Kelly and I had plans, though exactly what we were going to do was undefined. I asked her what she wanted to do, and she shrugged. "Why don't we just take a walk?" "OK, anywhere particular?" "You pick." This was a bit delicate. Because, quite honestly, I thought she was giving me a hint--though I couldn't quite be sure. Hey, I was used to Kara, whose hints were so blatant as to not even really be hints. And then there was Christine, who just came out and said she wanted to have sex. Kelly and I hadn't gotten more physical than making out--and not much of that, as we didn't easily have any way to be alone. But it was a nice day, she wanted to take a walk, and wanted me to pick where. I was quite sure Kara had told her a lot, including all about Braddox Hill. Kelly wasn't aggressive. I knew that. She wouldn't tell me what she wanted. She'd rely on me to try until she said stop--knowing that I would. The problem was that being aggressive, quite honestly, wasn't my strong suit either. It never had been, not even in adulthood in the old life. But that was what Kelly was expecting. At least I thought that's what she was expecting. We walked down the street, chatting. Then we got to the intersection. I led her across the street and then into the baseball fields at the foot of the hill. "That's Braddox Hill?" she asked. "Yeah." She didn't say anything, but she took my hand and smiled. We walked through the baseball fields and up the hill. Kelly looked over the side of the hill. "Kara did tell me there was a wonderful view from up here." "I've always liked it." I sat on the grass at the top of hill. Kelly, after looking at the view for a minute, came down and sat next to me, still smiling. I leaned in and kissed her. She eagerly kissed back. I tentatively probed at her mouth with my tongue, and she quickly opened her mouth and sucked my tongue into her mouth, entwining her tongue around mine. This was the deepest tongue-kiss we'd ever engaged in, and it was making Kelly melt. We were still sitting. I decided to lie back, and I pulled her down on top of me, which made her break the kiss for a minute and giggle. Then our lips met again. She was sprawled all over me. I could feel her breasts press into my chest as we kissed. I pulled her close to me around her waist, and then let one of my hands roam down to her ass. She moaned into my mouth and squirmed as my hand cupped her ass. Feeling bold, I took my other hand and slipped it in between our bodies, putting it right on her boob. I closely paid attention to her reaction. She moaned again, and pressed her boob into my hand. I decided to keep going. I rolled, talking her with me, so we ended up on the ground side-by-side. Then I pulled down the zipper to her coat. She was wearing a polo shirt tucked into a pair of jeans. I pulled the hem of the shirt out of the jeans--waiting the whole time for her to stop me. Then I slowly started working my way up inside her shirt, still waiting for the stop command. I didn't get it. She just kissed me harder. My hand found her boob--covered by her bra, but still. I thought I was taking a big chance. Instead, I was really just giving her what she wanted. She broke the kiss and whispered in my ear, "That bra clips in the front." I, of course, went right for the clip. In a few seconds, I had my hand on her bare tit. She sighed, then kissed me again--practically shoving her tongue down my throat this time! That's as far as we got this day. That was fine with me. We did this for a while, and then she straightened up and put herself back together. "I think I'm getting too excited," she said. "I could take care of that," I leered. "I bet you could!" she laughed. "And you will. Just not today." "I know. It's fine, you know." She smiled, and we started walking down the hill. When we got to the bottom, we held hands again and started walking. "I've been very scared." "Of what?" "Of us. Of us getting physical. It's been worrying me." "Look, Kelly, we don't have to, you know." "I want to, but I've been scared." She took a deep breath. "The fear started to go away last month, when we were up the street with your friends." "Oh. You were scared because you worry about Kara." "Yeah." "I hope I took care of that." "Mostly. I guess, I don't know... I guess I always figured that you and Kara were just on hiatus or something. That you'd eventually get back together." "I can't predict the future. I can tell you this, though... the only way Kara and I would ever get back together is if something happened to you and me. And I don't see that happening. I really am happy, Kelly, and I really do love you." "Good!" ------- MARCH 22nd, 1979 This was an interesting day. I missed the bus. I wasn't the only one, though--Kelly missed it, too. No, actually, we weren't together. That would've probably been a better story, if we had missed the bus because we were making out or something! But, no, we were both talking separately to teachers. We met up when we both came out of the school and ran after the fleeing bus. Kelly didn't think she'd have a problem, because her mother was usually home. Not this time. We both got off the phone, with neither of our mothers' home. "Crap. What do we do now?" Kelly said. Just then, Beth appeared out the door. "You missed the bus again?" she teased. "Yeah. Kelly did, too." "Ah," she said with a knowing grin. I had to tell her that we weren't together! Geez. "You know, everyone's going to think that," Kelly laughed. "When they find out we both missed the bus, they're going to think we were making out in a stairway or something. Including my mother." "Yup," Beth agreed. "Well, come on!" she said. Kelly looked at me. "I usually walk to her house and wait there if I miss the bus. Her mother's friends with mine." I turned to Beth. "I'm gonna stay here with Kelly." "You goof, I meant both of you. Come on, my mom won't mind." Kelly and I shrugged, and got up and followed her. "Thanks a lot, Beth, this is nice of you," Kelly told her. "Oh, no problem. Eddie's mom is usually around by four." "Yeah, and she can give us both a ride home if your mom's not there yet," I said. We got to the railroad tracks and turned down them. "So, how's Olivia?" I asked Beth. She sighed. "OK, I guess. She's still seeing Dennis. I doubt that's going to last. Hopefully, she'll wake up. He doesn't treat her very well." "He wouldn't," I said. "Yeah. She won't tell me, but I strongly suspect she's sleeping with him. And for the same exact reasons Christine slept with you," she told me. "Ah, shit," I muttered. "I made a mistake with that, and I know it. Somehow I'll bet that Dennis is just taking advantage of it." "No doubt," Beth snorted. "I think Christine did that because she had an erroneous impression of me. I don't think that's the case with Livvie and Dennis." "Nope. Dennis is eating it up, I'd wager," Beth said. "I worry about Olivia. She doesn't know what she's getting into. Then again, with her brothers, how could she? Those two are complete pigs. Do you know one of them tried to get me into bed? They know I'm sick, they've heard Livvie talk about it. So one of them actually tried to convince me that I didn't want to die a virgin. I slapped him." "Good for you!" I said. "I would've taken a baseball bat to his knees." "I know," she grinned. "Have you ever thought about it?" Kelly asked her. "Beth's very Catholic," I told Kelly. "I am," Beth agreed. "Now, I'd be lying if I never said I'd thought about it. But it's just not for me. I've lived my entire life as a Catholic, and I've followed the teachings as well as I can. Having premarital sex in a moment of weakness? I can't do it." "You don't think that whole anti-sex Catholic thing might be overblown?" Kelly asked her. "Maybe. Eddie and I have talked about this. But, you know what? It's not worth it, honestly. Maybe if I were older and still a virgin, I might think twice about it. But at my age? It's not worth it. It's not important enough to me to take that chance. Besides which, I'd just be having sex to have sex, and that really goes counter to my beliefs. I mean, it's not like I have a boyfriend," she said with a chuckle. "So, what do I do, find some random guy? Who would I do it with?" "Eddie," Kelly said quietly, making both Beth and I stop right in our tracks. "Did you just say what I think you said?" I sputtered. "I mean, who else, right? I know how close you two are," Kelly said. "I wouldn't mind, not with Beth." I absolutely couldn't speak. "Think about that for a minute," Beth said. "Eddie's your boyfriend, you know him well enough. Wouldn't you say he's a pretty senstive guy?" "Yes," Kelly said with a grin at me. "Right. And you think I'd ever ask him to sleep with me--knowing there's a good chance I could die shortly thereafter? Never. Even without my religious beliefs--even if I decided to throw caution to the wind--Eddie's the absolute last person I'd ever ask. It would devastate him." "She's right," I agreed. "And I'd do it if she asked, but it would kill me." "God, you're right. I never thought of it that way," Kelly agreed. "So," Beth grinned, "I'll just have to live vicariously through you. So, tell me what it's like," she said to Kelly. "I wouldn't know," Kelly said with a soft smile. "You mean, you two aren't..." "Not yet," Kelly said. "I'm not ready." "And if she's not ready then we're not ready," I added. "So, you haven't... but you just offered to let me?" Beth said. Kelly shrugged. "That's different." "Still. That was very generous," Beth said. "Nah." "Yes it was," Beth smiled. "And I really did appreciate the thought. Anyhow," she said, changing the subject, "speaking of romantic entanglements... what is up with Stan and Michelle?" "Oh, God," I burst out laughing. "As The Junior High Turns. Those two just give me a headache." "I know a little, but I don't really know what's going on," Kelly admitted. "I just see them giving each other little glances, and I know they went to the dance," Beth added. "Oh, it's incredible," I told them. "They are absolutely nuts about one another. They should be going out. But Stan won't ask." "Why on earth not?" Beth asked. "Because he doesn't think he's good enough for Michelle." "Oh, that is so bogus," Beth spat. "Stan Murvetsin is a nice guy. He's kind and considerate. He's funny. I know Michelle enjoys spending time with him. So why would he think that way?" "Brains." "Excuse me?" "Brains. Michelle has them, and Stan thinks he doesn't," I said. "Oh, geez," Beth snorted. "I didn't think she intimidated him, he never acts like she does." "He's confident enough to be friends with her. But, let me tell you something--Michelle Pepper intimidates every single guy in school. With the possible exception of me." Kelly laughed, "Why doesn't she intimidate you?" "One, I never thought of her romantically. Two, there are very few people in school that can match her for brains, but I'm one of them. And three, when I first met her I was way too busy being intimidated by Kara." Beth and Kelly cracked up at that. "Well, it's true. Honestly, after getting through to Kara, I don't think any girl could intimidate me anymore. That was the biggie." "I'm very glad, I wouldn't want to," Kelly giggled. By that time, we had reached Beth's house. We followed her in through the back door, the door commonly used in that house, which led into the kitchen. "Mom?" she called. "I have company." "Eddie again?" Beth's mom, Lydia, laughed, emerging into the kitchen from the pantry. "Hi, Lydia," I said. "Not just me, though. This is my girlfriend Kelly. She missed the bus, too. And, no, before you ask, we weren't together." "I'm still not sure whether or not to believe that," Beth teased. I stuck my tongue out at her. Lydia greeted Kelly warmly, and welcomed her in. We sat around the kitchen table, chatting and drinking sodas. Kelly asked to use the phone, and left a message with Patrick, who was home. My mom would be home by four, so there was no need to yank Mrs. Cullinane out to pick us up. I called Mom at work--she'd swing by and get us when she got off work at the hospital. I always enjoyed this house. I was friends with Beth's brothers, who were only a couple years younger--except the youngest, who was seven years younger--and I loved Lydia. She was a wonderful person, warm and welcoming, just all-around sweet. I'd known her all my life. She and her husband, Beth's dad Bob, were my sister's godparents. They'd always just been a part of our family. I hadn't seen her in years in the first life--the ties between our families seemed to melt away after Beth died. I don't think Lydia and Bob were ever the same after that. I mean, would you be? I sat there, watching her be her usual wonderful warm self. She accepted Kelly into the house, no questions asked, and sat there and talked to us for an hour. Her strength was just astounding. This woman was going through just about the worst thing a parent can go through--the impending death of her oldest child and only daughter. I might be a guy, but I know the mother-daughter relationship is special, and Lydia and Beth were closer than most, even before Beth's illness. Lydia must have been completely torn apart. She was going to miss out on so much, so many things a mother and daughter should be able to share. They weren't going to happen, and Lydia knew it. She knew it was coming. And there she was, casually talking to my girlfriend. This is what I mean about some of the strange stuff that went through my brain. I reacted mostly like a 14-year-old. But there were things a 14-year-old just doesn't get, doesn't see, doesn't comprehend. The first time around, I was absolutely oblivious. Lydia was Lydia--Beth's mom, my mom's friend. Just another adult--one I liked more than most, but, still, just another adult. Not this time. My mom came after a while, and she was perfectly happy to drop Kelly off. We started heading out. But, while leaving, I let Kelly and Mom get a little ahead of me, and turned to Lydia, and gave her a big hug. "Thanks. You're amazing, you know that?" I told her. She looked at me in shock, no doubt wondering where that came from. I didn't care. At least she knew. Even if it all fell apart again after Beth died, at least she knew. ------- APRIL 18th, 1979 Kelly and I were progressing nicely. We spent as much time together as we could, and we just got along perfectly. The only thing that hadn't progressed was the physical side of our relationship. A lot of that was due to circumstance. We didn't really have a place to be alone much of the time, and it had been too cold and rainy to spend any time on Braddox Hill. This day, a Wednesday in the middle of April vacation, was different. It was beautiful. When I went over to Kelly's that morning, she said, "Let's take a walk." We started walking, and it was plain we were headed for Braddox Hill. Kelly didn't say anything, but we were obviously headed there. She obviously had something in mind, because when we got to the top of the hill, she flat-out attacked me! We were kissing, sprawled out on the grass. She broke the kiss after a few minutes and said, "I've been waiting for good weather so I could get you up here again for a month." I laughed. "I would be lying if I said it hadn't crossed my mind, too." "Good!" We went back to kissing, and I brought my hand up to her boob again. This time she wasn't wearing a jacket, so I just went right up her shirt. "This time it hooks in the back," she said into my ear. I managed. We kissed, and I felt her up for a while. Then I surprised her. I broke the kiss, and pulled her shirt up so that it was underneath her neck. I pushed her bra out of the way, and went right for her nipple with my mouth. She gasped in surprise at first. But then, as I took her nipple into my mouth, she giggled, of all things. I wondered if I had hit a ticklish spot or something, until she sighed, "Oh that feels so good." She was still kind of giggling and sighing, almost all at once. I did that for a bit, reveling in the feel of her nipple under my tongue--and in the little giggles and squeaks she kept letting out. Then I moved back up to kiss her, and replaced my mouth on her boob with my hand. She pulled away from the kiss and said to me, eyes shining, "Oh, Eddie, I'm so turned on!" "I could take care of that," I said. She hesitated for a minute. "I'm not ready to go all the way." "That's fine. We don't have to," I told her. "There are other ways," I leered, making her giggle. I went for the snap on her jeans. She was still hesitant, but she assisted me in getting her jeans and panties pulled down and then off. I took a minute to admire her. The soft, sparse hair around her pussy was very blonde, lighter than the hair on her head, which was a dirty reddish-blonde. And she was very definitely aroused. "What?" she said, as I looked at her. "Just admiring the view," I said. She giggled, then sighed. "You're the first person... you know, that's ever seen... you know." "I know," I told her. I lay back down beside her, and started kissing her again. Once she got into the kiss, I put my hand between her legs and lightly stroked her pussy. She jumped a little, and moaned into my mouth. I did this for a few minutes, working her up, then I made my move. I broke the kiss, and quickly dove down so that my face was between her legs. She let out a startled gasp when I dragged my tongue up the length of her pussy. It didn't take long until she just went nuts. I mean, I'd never seen anything like this, in either life. Kara loved it when I did this to her, but Kelly just went completely over the edge. She wasn't as loud as Kara--which was a good thing in the outdoors! She didn't scream. However, she wheezed and yelped. When I took a minute to look up at her, what a sight. Her eyes were wide open, her mouth in an O, and her hands were gripping at the grass underneath her. And when she came, which only took a few minutes? My God. She almost bucked me right off Braddox Hill! This was unbelievable. I think she made my upper lip bleed with all that bucking and quaking! When I eased off, I looked at her in the aftermath. Her eyes were still wide open. She was wheezing and gasping for air. Her whole body was quivering. Hot damn! I just sat there and grinned at her, waiting for her to come down. Finally, her breathing approached something close to normal, and she stopped shaking. Her eyes refocused, and she looked up to see me sitting there, smiling. She didn't say a single word. The next thing I knew, I was flat on my back on the ground, having my mouth devoured, while she clawed at the snap on my pants. She quickly got my pants undone and started tugging on them, trying to get them off. I raised my ass to help her. We were still kissing. She quickly had my dick in her hand. Then she did the same thing I had done--broke the kiss, scooted down, and sucked my dick into her mouth. Still without saying a word! I guess I shouldn't have been surprised. This was all part and parcel of her upbeat nature, I think. Kelly had a zest for life. It made sense that she had a zest for this, too. Still, I was surprised at her complete lack of inhibition. I know she'd never done anything like this before, and she was sucking away on my dick like a pro. It was absolutely amazing. She wasn't rough, at all, just furiously intense. It didn't take me very long, as turned on as I had been watching her. I managed to warn her, but she didn't care. She just kept sucking. I exploded into her mouth. As I was still trying to come down from the orgasm of my life, Kelly crawled up next to me and started kissing me all over my neck and face and ears. She still hadn't said a word. I spoke first. "You trying to get me going again?" I teased. She stopped kissing me and giggled. "Well, it'd only be fair, because I think I already am." I reached down between her legs--yup, she was definitely going again. "Oooh, somebody wants more, does she?" I said. "Only if you promise me I'll survive another!" "I refuse to make rash promises I may not be able to keep," I intoned. She laughed again at that. God, I was getting completely addicted to her little laughs and giggles. Feeling reasonably sure about her surviving another orgasm, I crawled back between her legs and dove back in. She must have gotten a little more used to the sensations, because she was more vocal this time. Not screaming or anything, but the yelps and wheezes were more definite, and she was moaning "Ed! Ed! Oh Ed!" as I sucked on her clit. If anything, the bucking when she came was even more intense than the first time. My goodness--it looked like I'd unleashed Kelly's inner animal! When I crawled up next to her this time, her eyes were closed. They finally fluttered open, and she looked up at me. "God. I wanted to return the favor again, but I don't think I can move!" "That's OK. I'm fine." "My legs are like jello," she sighed. "I believe it," I laughed. She sat up, still a little shaky. "I'm still not ready to go further than this." "I know you're not, Kelly. This is fine. This was great, wasn't it? I had fun." "I had a whole lot of fun!" she burst out. "But, wow, this was one of the reasons I was kind of scared of this." "What?" She grinned. "I could very easily get very addicted to that!" "Anytime you want," I told her. "Don't tempt me, I might make your tongue fall off," she laughed. I started laughing back, but then stopped. "Did you hear that?" "Hear what?" "I heard a tree branch crack." Then I listened again. "Shit, I think someone's coming up here!" "SHIT!" she hissed, and reached for her pants. I did the same to mine, and we threw our clothes back together, grinning like idiots the whole time. Once we got ourselves reasonably put together, we started walking. Sure enough, a little ways down we saw a middle-aged man and a dog, climbing the hill. "Good afternoon," he said. "Great view up there, isn't it?" "It sure is," I said, somehow holding back the laughter. When we got down to the bottom of the hill, neither Kelly or I could hold it back--we both cracked up, trying not to do so too loudly! "Man, that was a close call!" she said as we walked across the baseball fields. "It sure was. We were pretty obscured behind those trees, though." "To a point, but I was making some noise," she laughed. "Heck, I'm still tingling!" "Good, then I did it right," I joked, making her crack up again. "You sure did. Thank you. It was wonderful." "For me, too," I told her. We didn't stop smiling the whole way home, and we spent a lot of it laughing. That's what it was like with her--smiling and laughing. We really made each other very happy. It was wonderful. ------- Chapter 8 "I KNOW WE HAD TO TRY, TO REACH UP AND TOUCH THE SKY BABY, WHATEVER HAPPENED TO YOU AND I?" APRIL 19th, 1979 I got a phone call. "Hello?" I said. "Well, I hear you're putting that tongue to good use!" the laughing voice on the other side of the phone said. It was Kara. I laughed back. "I take it you've been talking to Kelly." "Of course. I always talk to Kelly." "Well, of course you do, but you have to admit, this is strange. My girlfriend talking to my ex-girlfriend about our sex life!" "I am far more than a mere ex-girlfriend," she sniffed. "I'm Kelly's best friend and one of yours." "Yes, but, you know what I mean." "Yeah, true," she giggled. "You'll just have to get used to it." "I know. It's fine, really. It's just a little weird." "OK, I guess it is. But that's just us. Let's face it, we had the most amicable breakup in the history of romance." "That much is true," I agreed. "Anyhow, Eddie, I do have to warn you." "Warn me?" "Yes," she said, and then laughed. "You flipped a switch yesterday. Big time. You now have one extremely horny girlfriend on your hands." "Figured that one out all by my lonesome," I told her. She cracked up at that. "Of course, I've been there before," I teased. "I wasn't as bad as Kelly is. I was bad, but not that bad." She sighed. "Of course, you satisfied it. Unlike some other people." "Uh-oh. Trouble in paradise?" She sighed again, deeper this time. "Dave's a hell of a nice guy. He treats me as well as you did, and miles better than Jim ever did. But the sex is just OK. He's never done that--you know, with his mouth." "Have you asked?" She seemed surprised at that question. "Well, no. Should I?" "Why not?" "Well, you just did it." "Let me ask you a question--is Dave very experienced?" "No, not at all," she said, confirming my suspicions. "In fact, I was his first." "Was he awkward and hesitant and stuff?" "Some, yeah. Now that you mention it, yeah." "Well, there you go. Listen, Kara, going down on a girl is rather intimate. It's also, I guess, scary. If a guy doesn't know what he's getting into, he might be hesitant to try. But if you ask, that's different. Have you ever given him a blowjob?" "Yeah, a couple of times." "Well, the next time you do, just ask him if he'll return the favor." "Hmmm," she mused. "I guess I'm just surprised. Especially since, as I said, I never had to ask you. You just did it." "I'm not normal," I laughed. "Too true," she teased back. "You just shut up. What I meant was that my upbringing isn't all that normal. This is a pretty open house, especially where my dad is concerned. You don't think he knows I read all those Playboys and Penthouses he leaves lying around? Of course he does. I can also ask him anything. I knew you'd like it if I went down on you. And I knew the taste wasn't going to gross me out or anything like that, because I'd read about it. Dave might not know all that." "Good point," she agreed. "Now I just have to get up the gumption to bring it up to him." "Like I said, after you blow him. When he's all post-orgasmic and happy and shit; that's when you spring it on him." "Good plan," she laughed. ------- APRIL 20th, 1979 I needed money. Look, I had sporting events I knew the outcome to, and stocks that I knew would make me some money. But I needed money to do those things. The paper route just wasn't cutting it. I needed a job. However, I didn't want some of the crummy jobs I'd had the first time. I was only 14 so I was limited in what I could do. I'd worked at a donut shop as a clean-up guy. I worked on a mural in a playground (painting was not my thing.) Later on, when I was 16, I worked in a supermarket as a bagger. They all sucked. So, I came up with an idea. "Hey, Dad?" I said to him as we were sitting around this night. "The business is going really well, isn't it?" "Very well. I just hired another guy." Preventing The Eye had done a lot for our financial situation. Dad was doing well. "Mom does your books, doesn't she?" "Yes, but it's become a struggle since she went full time." Mom had been working part time at the hospital, but had just taken a full-time position. "She has too much to do." He grinned at me. "You could help her out by doing more around the house." "I'm sure I could," I grinned back, "but I have a better idea." "Of course you do." "Seriously. You're bringing in enough to hire someone to do the books." "Sure, but I'm not entirely comfortable with that. I do everything on the up-and-up, but I'd still prefer to keep it in the family." "Right. So hire me. I need a job. I figure, to do it right, it's about twenty hours a week. That'd be fine for me--I could do the books, send out your bills, all that. I need to make some money and I don't want to go work at McDonald's or something else crappy." He thought for a minute. "You think you could do it?" "Sure. I'm good at math. I know the basics of bookkeeping, Mom explained them to me. She'd just have to train me a little as to how your books are set up. I could do it without a problem. And I could be flexible with the hours as long as I get them done every week, which works for me being in school." He thought for another minute, and said, "You know, that's a hell of an idea. If you can do them, it's a hell of an idea. Let me discuss it with your mother." "Sure." Mom agreed, and quickly arranged to show me the ropes. I think she was glad to get them off her hands! Dad gave me a fair wage, and I started doing his books for him. I enjoyed it. It was much less mindless than most jobs for teenagers. Hell, it was less mindless than what I had been doing in my adult life! And I sure enjoyed the money! ------- APRIL 29th, 1979 Money was something I needed right about then. I had a gift to buy. It was, you see, Beth's fifteenth birthday. I got her a pendant. It was a gold heart on a gold chain, and the heart was engraved "Beffy." Yes, Kelly knew about it; in fact, she'd gone with me to get it. Imagine that--going with your boyfriend to pick out a piece of jewelry for another girl! But Kelly was remarkably not jealous, plus she knew why I'd do something like this for Beth. So, today, we went over Beth's house, my mother and I. When she opened it, she squealed--and wrapped me in a bear hug. "You are the best friend in the world!" Damn, that made me feel good! ------- JUNE 5th, 1979 Michelle had a new boyfriend. And it wasn't Stan. It was this guy named Mike Richardson, who I knew slightly. He seemed like a nice guy. Michelle was happy. They'd started going out a few weeks ago. But Stan had blown it, and he knew it. We ate lunch once the previous week and he was disconsolate. "Why the hell didn't I ask her out when I had the chance?" he moaned. "Don't look at me--I told you to," I said. "I know you did. Damn, I feel like such an idiot." On this day, the fifth, Kelly wasn't in school (she had a flu bug--I went to her house after school and nursed her for a bit!). Michelle's boyfriend had something to do during lunch. So, Michelle pulled me aside and asked to eat lunch with me. We found a side table. "Stan hates me, doesn't he?" Michelle asked. "Honestly, Michelle, I think he hates himself more." She sighed. "Eddie, he dithered around so much that I thought maybe I was wrong, that he didn't like me. So, when Mike asked me out, I said yes. And now Stan looks like I slapped him in the face. I feel horrible." "Look, Michelle, it's Stan's own fault and he knows it. He's never said anything bad to me about you. On the contrary, it's all about what an idiot he was." "Oh. Well, that makes me feel less guilty, anyhow. I just, I don't know... I really like Mike, but I miss being friends with Stan. He won't even talk to me now, really." "He's ashamed, and pissed at himself." "I know. I don't know what to do about it." "It's not your problem, Michelle, it's his," I maintained. "He knows that." "He was one of my best friends. I want that back. I just--well, Mike's a nice guy and I was sick of being alone." "I know. Look, I'll see what I can do, OK?" "Thanks." That night I called Stan on the phone. "I saw you eating with Michelle," he said. "What did she want?" "She wanted to know how you were," I said. He snorted. "She cares?" "Of course she does, Stan, you big idiot. She thought you were mad at her. I told her you were madder at yourself." "That much is true," he agreed. "She misses your friendship." "How the hell can I be friends with her knowing my stupidity is why she's with another guy?" "I'll tell you how," I said. "You just do it. Because it's not going to last. Mark my words, Michelle and Mike aren't going to last. Now, understand, she didn't tell me this. She tells me how much she likes him. Let's just say I'm reading between the lines. Be her friend, Stan. Opportunity is going to come around again." "You think?" "I do. Stan, you're what, almost 15? We're not even in high school yet? Be her friend for now. Trust me." "Easy for you to say, mister three-girlfriends-in-a-year," he laughed. "I know," I agreed, "but that's part of why I'm telling you this. Remember, Kelly's liked me all along, and I was going out with her best friend. She bided her time and when I was free--as she knew I would be sooner or later--she moved in. Get me?" "Oooh, good point." ------- JUNE 12th, 1979 He put my advice into action right away. He sat right with us at lunch the next day, greeting Michelle with a cheery, "Hi, Sarge. How's that short-skirt-with-fishnets outfit coming?" Michelle was delighted. Mike, her new boyfriend, was not. Like I said, I'd thought he was a nice guy though I didn't know him well. Now, his snarky side reared its ugly head. He saw Stan as a threat, and subtly tried to belittle him. I have no doubt he would've tried to do the same to me, based on Michelle's close friendship with me, if it weren't for Kelly. The way Kelly and I mooned over one another made it quite clear that I was not available. Then again, I would've been harder to belittle than Stan was. Mike instantly veered onto Stan's main weakness--his insecurity concerning his intelligence as compared to Michelle's. Mike was almost as smart as Michelle was. Book-smart, I mean. Stan was smarter in other ways. But sometimes he couldn't see that--if he had, he would've actually asked Michelle out--and Mike preyed on that. On this day, I decided defensive measures were in order. Stan plopped down at lunch and said, "Man, am I glad that school is almost done for the year!" Mike piped up with, "Yeah, if I were you, I'd be glad, too. I'm sure this place strains your brain to the max. You'll be able to rest it all summer." Stan didn't look happy. Neither, for that matter, did Michelle. Before either of them could say anything, however, I steered the conversation. "Nah, he won't be able to rest his brain. He'll spend the whole summer learning new songs on the guitar, if I know him." "Yup," Stan agreed, relieved. "Oh, did I tell you? I almost got Born To Run down. Got the whole main body of the song. The solo's a bitch, though. "That it is," I agreed. "This is why I play rhythm." "Good thing you don't play bass," Michelle interjected, picking right up on the change in conversation. "The bass part to that song is no prize. Especially the middle section--the 'Beyond the valley, hemi-powered drones' part. I've finally learned it, more or less." "Oh, I know, the bass jumps all over the place at that part," I agreed. "What the hell are you talking about?" Mike said. "Guitars," Michelle answered sweetly. "Stan and Eddie both play guitar. I play bass guitar." "You WHAT?" he blurted. "I never told you that? Yeah, I took up bass last summer. I'm still learning it. I'd like to play in a band someday." Mike looked sour at that. "Anyhow, Eddie, since you turned me on to the Beach Boys--jeez. I've tried the bass line to Wouldn't It Be Nice for three months. That one is brutal." "Yes, it is," I agreed. The three of us went on for a while like that. Poor Mike was fuming! When I talked to Stan later, I said something. "Hang in there." "I'll try. Thanks for the save today. I wanted to punch him." "I know. But did you see how Michelle went right with it?" "Yes, I did," he said with a huge grin. I was glad to help. Stan didn't deserve to be belittled. And Mike was certainly showing a nasty streak lately, while Stan was just being a good friend. I wondered how long it would take for Michelle to figure stuff out. ------- JUNE 16th, 1979 I didn't have any such worries with my own love life, thankfully. I was with who I wanted to be with, and everything was great. I was about to leave 9th grade behind and head to high school with Kelly. Beth was still here, still my best friend. I was making decent money working for my Dad. Life was fine. On this day, Saturday the sixteenth, it got even better. Kelly and I hadn't been frightened away by nearly getting caught back in April. We still went up to Braddox Hill. This time, however, we found a place up the top that was a bit more isolated, more back in the trees. We had to bring a blanket back there--it was more dirt than grass--but that was OK. We'd gone up there as much as possible in the past two months, and had settled into an anything-but physical relationship. Believe me, I was not complaining. It was wonderful. I didn't get much into comparisons, and sex with Kara had been fantastic, but Kelly was the most sexually responsive person I'd ever been with, in either life. I mean, she got aroused at the drop of a hat; and while she didn't orgasm on a hair-trigger, it was close. Like I said, I guessed it was all part of that zest for life thing. That translated into everything physical. She kissed like a banshee. The blowjobs she gave me were completely beyond describing; she blew me like the fate of the universe depended on her extracting my sperm from my dick. But, without being rough at all. Like I said, tough to describe! And when I did anything to her? My goodness. One thing I had found out shortly after that day in April when we had first explored was that she was one of those rare women--and the only one I'd ever been with--that could orgasm just from tittie play. Just little ones, she told me, but still. She said that they were nice little appetizers. She called them boob-gasms, which cracked me up. She said that any time I gave her a boob-gasm, the actual orgasms were particularly explosive. So, despite the fact that we hadn't had intercourse, our sex life was exceptional. I loved every minute of it, and so did she. Going all the way had actually been left unspoken. She knew I'd done it. I knew she wasn't ready. So, the unspoken agreement was that she had to tell me when she was ready. Until then I was perfectly, completely satisfied with what we did. One thing that I wondered was whether or not she was worried she'd be disappointed. Look, I know she talked to Kara. And I know Kara loved fucking. However, I also knew that when she talked about it to Kelly what she raved about was "Eddie's fantabulous tongue." And Kelly certainly had already experienced that. I wondered if she worried that intercourse would be a let-down. Quite honestly, I worried about it, too. Kel was a virgin. I'd never had a 'deflowering' experience in the first life, so the only virginities I had gotten were the two this time, Kara's and Christine's. Kara's was fantastic. Chris's was a disaster. And Kara hadn't had a hymen. I wondered if that made a difference. Kelly did have a hymen--I'd gotten my finger right at the entrance to her pussy and she definitely had a hymen. So, I worried about it a little. And, I couldn't deny the truth--a blowjob from Kelly was better than any actual sex I'd ever had, in either life, with the possible exception of Kara. Staying right where we were was OK with me. However, it turns out it wasn't OK with Kelly. This was the day. We got up to Braddox Hill, spread our blanket out on 'our spot', and commenced to disrobing, kissing, and fondling. It was in the middle of some beginning stages workup fondling that she said it. "I'm ready." I pulled away from her neck--which I had been nibbling on--and looked her in the eyes. "I'm ready," she repeated. "I want you to make love to me." "Are you sure?" "Yes. I certainly am. I've been building up to this for a while. Just, you know, work me up first, OK?" "Of course," I smiled, and went back to rubbing her boobs and nibbling on her neck. She sighed. I only did that for a bit, before I moved to her boobs with my mouth. I started sucking on her nipples, which she loved. I admit it--I was going for the boob-gasm. I figured that would make the rest of the proceedings a little easier. I got it, and in a remarkably short period of time. She grabbed my head and held it tight to her boob, while her hips gyrated and she let out a little whine. After that, I went down to her pussy with my tongue, just working her up. While I was doing that, I reached for my pants and pulled a condom out of my wallet. I didn't want there to be a big time gap. I got her fairly close to the edge, and pulled away. She groaned, but I moved up on top of her, supporting myself with my hands, and said, "You ready?" "God, yes," she hissed. I slipped the condom on, and rubbed my dick up and down her pussy, spreading her wetness all over it. She groaned deeply at that, and hitched her hips a little bit. I lined up. God, I didn't want to hurt her like I had Christine. This was too important to me. However, I knew some pain was probably inevitable. I just hoped I had worked her up enough. I slowly wedged the head of my dick into the opening of her pussy. She groaned again. Then, just barely in, I hit her maidenhead. "This is the part that hurts," I said. "I know. Just do it," she gasped. I did it. I felt it give way. Kelly yelped. "YIKES!" "Sorry," I told her. "I told you to," she managed to get out. "God. That hurt." "I know," I said. "Just relax, and breathe." She did, and I stayed right where I was. I wasn't going to rush this--and, thank goodness, Kelly wasn't trying to get me to do so. I reached one hand over and rubbed gently on her boob, trying to get her to relax. It definitely helped. "How's the pain?" I asked after a couple of minutes. "A lot better. Keep playing with my boob and I'll do anything," she said with a smile. Good, at least she was smiling. "You were worried about this." "Yeah." "I'll be fine. I love you." "I love you, too," I told her. "Good. Keep going," she demanded, "it feels much better." "OK," I said, and slowly started to slide into her. One thing I quickly found out was her pain hadn't diminished her enthusiasm any--and I mean physically. She was extremely wet. I swear, it was like her pussy was Niagara Falls. Even though she was definitely a virgin and tighter than a drum, I slid in rather easily. She had closed her eyes when I had started moving again. When our pubes bumped, she opened them again. "You did it!" she hissed. "How are you?" "God, wow!" "No more pain?" "No, none. It feels good," she said. "Make love to me, Eddie," she said. I did. I started slowly, not quite believing her that it was completely pain-free. However, as I started moving in and out of her, it became more and more obvious that she was definitely enjoying it. She had closed her eyes, and had a look in her face like she was testing how it made her feel, but that didn't last long. A couple strokes in, her eyes flew open and she smiled at me. A couple strokes after that, and her ass was coming up off the blanket a little, meeting my thrusts. I had gotten better at keeping control. Even though I hadn't had actual sex since Christine, which was quite a few months ago, all the manual-and-oral stuff Kelly and I had done had helped me increase my control. Plus I was consciously working on it. So, I wasn't going to go off in a second. I wasn't going to last forever, though. So, I was glad to start slowly. That worked for Kelly, too. I took my time at first, trying not to go nuts, and working Kelly into it. And, boy, was she getting into it! I had gotten into a rhythm, albeit a slow one, and she was humping right back up at me. Most entrancingly, she was also grinning at me with her eyes wide open. "God, this feels great," she blurted after a few minutes. "Ooooh, Eddie, I love this!" I smiled back at her, and kept moving. As I said, she was humping back up at me. After a couple minutes, she got a look of concentration in her eyes, though, like she was reaching for something she couldn't quite get to. I guessed there was a spot I wasn't quite hitting. I stopped all the way inside her and said, "Kel? Wrap your legs around my waist." She did so, and then I moved again. When I hit bottom that time, she went, "Oooooooh!" "Hit the spot?" "God, yes! Keep going!" I did, moving slowly in and out of her. "Faster?" I asked after a bit. "Yes!" she agreed, so I picked up the pace. I was still hovering above her, supporting myself on outstretched hands, but she obviously had different ideas--she wrapped her arms around my neck and tugged. "I want you closer," she hissed. I was glad to oblige--I moved down and rested my weight on my elbows. She kept her arms around my neck and started kissing me, still humping up at me on every downstroke. Starting to lose control, I went faster. "Oh, God, this is unbelievable!" she hissed into my ear. She went back to kissing me--then stopped, because she was gasping for air. "Oh! Oh! Oh! OH! EDDIE! OH GOD!" she yelped, and then went completely rigid below me, except for her ass which came right off the ground. Her hands dug into my shoulders, she squealed, her whole body shook. Then her pussy clamped down on my dick so hard that I came instantly. My GOD. It was absolutely stunning. I pulled out, gasping for air, as she did the same. When her eyes opened, she looked down at my dick. "Did you... uh..." I pulled off the condom so she could see that I definitely did. "Like never before," I told her. She grinned, and said, "But you're still hard." "That happens sometimes. Not often, but sometimes. I have to be especially turned on." "So, do you have another one of those things?" she said, pointing to the rubber that I had just peeled off. "Sure." "So, put it on!" "Aren't you sore?" I asked her. "No. I want more." Unbelievable. "You'll be sore tomorrow," I felt obligated to point out. "Like I care?" She sat up on the blanket and hugged me, rubbing herself up against me. "That was too fantastic. I want more," she demanded. I laughed and reached around into my pants pocket for another rubber. She looked on in fascination as I slipped it on. After it was on, she grinned, and started to lie back on the blanket. "Hold on," I said, "let's try something different." I arranged myself on the blanket next to her, rubber-covered dick high in the air. "Climb on," I told her with a grin. "Will that work?" she asked. "Sure will. And it's supposed to be incredible for the girl." "Better than what I just had? Impossible," she snorted--but got up and started climbing onto my lap. "On your knees," I told her, "right in my lap. Then, raise yourself up a little, grab my dick, and ease yourself down on it." She did so, her face screwed into a mask of concentration. I felt the head of my dick slip past her opening again--as did she judging by the gasp--and then I felt her slowly slide down it. She gasped again when she hit bottom. "Wow, you're right, this is something," she said. "I just hope my legs hold out!" "They will," I said. She smiled, and started moving. One of the best things about female superior, to my mind, is that it gave me easy access at things to play with. Boobs, for example. Considering how sensitive Kelly's were, this was a very good thing. I raised my left hand and went right for her boob with it. She hissed out an "Oooooh!" and started moving a little faster. Then I took my right hand and went for her clit. Complete explosion! I can't even describe it and do it justice. She started slamming up and down on me so fast and hard I was worried she was going to pull a hamstring! She obviously hadn't come completely down from her first one, because this one didn't take long at all. A few minutes of her furiously moving with my hands on her boob and clit, and she stiffened again. Then she shuddered, whinnied like a horse, and I felt the rhythmic clamping of her pussy on my dick again. Then, thoroughly exhausted, she flopped forward onto my chest--still impaled on my dick. "Oh my goodness," she gasped. "You didn't go again?" "Nah. It's harder for a guy the second time." "And my legs are like jello," she laughed. "You want to flip over?" "No," she said determinedly. "I like this too much." Then she took a deep breath and started moving--slower this time--up and down my dick. She was still lying on top of me, she hadn't straightened back up, which was actually very fun for both of us. I drew my knees up to give her more leverage, and started bucking up at her on every downstroke. She ran her hands through my hair and kissed me. I hadn't thought I was that close to cumming again, and with her legs tired she wasn't moving all that fast. But something happened. I guess it was the way she was--draped on top of me, her lips on mine, her fingers in my hair, her tits rubbing up against my chest as she moved on me. She took her lips off mine for a minute and nibbled on my neck, then went back to kissing my lips. She was practically purring in my mouth. It was so sensual that even though this was my second and she never really got what I would've considered 'up to speed', I still felt myself building up quickly. I put my hands on her flanks to steady her, gently rubbing her sides. She moved a wee bit faster, but not much. It didn't matter. After a short few minutes, I grabbed her around the waist and thrust up inside of her and came. With her nipples drilling holes into mine and her tongue still in my mouth. It was absolutely incredible. There is a difference between fucking and making love. I'd learned that a long time ago in the first life. This was making love, no doubt about it. I'd never felt as close to another human being--not even Kara--as I did to Kelly at that moment. So, I said it. "I feel so close to you right now it's like we're one person." "Yeah. That's exactly it," she agreed. I had finally gone soft and slipped out of her, but she was still sprawled on top of me, my arms around her waist. "Now, I'm asking myself, what the hell was I waiting for?" "You were waiting until you were ready. If you had rushed it, it wouldn't have been as good." "Yeah, but one of the reasons I wasn't ready is that I was afraid I wouldn't like it. This went so far beyond 'like it' I can't even put it into words." "Yeah, but that wasn't the whole reason you weren't ready. Waiting until you were sure was the right thing to do, Kel. You know what they say--worth the wait." "Oh, it was definitely worth the wait!" she laughed. "Wow. I love you so much." "I love you, too," I told her. "How are your legs, still like jello?" "No. Now they're like spaghetti. Cooked spaghetti." "There's a problem with that," I said. "We have to walk home." "Oh? I thought you were going to give me a piggyback," she said impishly. "Hey! I did all the work the first time. My legs aren't exactly at full strength." "Oh, poo. Why do you lift all those weights and do all that running if it's not to give me piggybacks?" "You're a brat, you know that?" "You love me anyway," she said, and kissed me. "You're right, I do." We rested for a bit, then gathered up our clothes and headed out. We walked to the bottom of the hill then across the park hand-in hand. When we got out of the park and onto the main street, I abruptly stopped. Before she knew what was going on, I stood in front of her, crouched down, grabbed her legs, then slowly stood up. She squealed and wrapped her arms around my shoulders just in time. "Eddie, I was kidding about the piggyback!" she said--though the tone in her voice indicated she was really delighted. "What my lady wants, my lady gets," I said, then started walking. She couldn't stop laughing. We got to the corner where we had to cross the street, and I pushed the button for the traffic signal--with her still on my back. We crossed the street piggyback. It was hilarious. Kelly still couldn't stop laughing and yelling "Wheeeee!" and all the folks in the cars at the traffic light were cracking up. I couldn't go much further with her on my back, so I set her down. She was still laughing. "You're nuts," she said. "Only about you." I told her. We walked back to her house hand-in-hand, in complete bliss. ------- JULY 12th, 1979 So, that began our physical relationship, Kelly and I. It was absolutely marvelous. I'd had decent sex, and good sex, if you count both timelines. With Kara, I'd probably even call it great sex. Sex with Kelly was stupendous sex. I'd never been with anyone that enthusiastic. Kara loved it, but even that paled in comparison. After our second time--a week after the first--I looked at Kelly and said, "I think I've created a monster." She laughed and said, "Well, a nymphomaniac anyway." And the innuendos! Those started right away. We didn't see each other the day after our first time--though we talked on the phone and she admitted she was sore, claiming "it was the greatest soreness of all time!" We did see each other the next day, a Monday, as we were still in school. She got on the bus, sat down next to me, and promptly whispered in my ear, "My pussy itches. Can you scratch it for me, mister?" I started getting stuff like that all the time. Before school got out, she'd walk up to me in school, look down right at my dick, and then look up grinning. The junior high had a 'graduation' with gowns and everything, and Kelly walked up to me and whispered "I'm naked under this gown. Wanna go play?" Sara had her Fourth of July party again; and, while in the pool, Kelly pulled the top of her bikini down, flashing me. Stuff like that. There was one day when I mentioned that I had to replenish the rubber supply. The next day, she was hanging at my house--my mom had invited her for dinner. Well, she decided she wanted to go to the store. When we got outside, I asked her what store she wanted to go to. She said, "The one where you buy the rubbers. I wanna go and buy them with you." So we went to that drugstore and she proudly helped me buy the rubbers, with the girl behind the counter glaring at her the whole time. When we got outside the store, she couldn't stop laughing. "Did you see the look on that woman's face when I pointed at the rubbers?" she said. Like I've said--zest for life. I loved every minute of it. Sex? God, we had a lot of sex. Especially after school got out. It's a good thing her mother liked me, because we were together all the time that summer. And I was the one that had to suggest we occasionally did something other than sex! God, she was insatiable. On this day, July 12th, sex wasn't possible. Kelly had her period. So, we went to the mall. We ran into Beth, doing some shopping with her mother. Lydia went off to do some household shopping and the three of us went to Orange Julius. We bought some and grabbed a bench. "How's it going?" I asked Beth. "OK. I've been spending lots of time this week keeping Olivia from going off the deep end. Dennis broke up with her." "Damn," I said. "It's probably a good thing in the long run because he treated her like crap," Beth maintained, "but right now? She's devastated." "I'll bet," I said. "He was her first, and she's fragile to begin with." "Right. And she completely hasn't come to terms with me at all," Beth continued. I just shook my head. "Come to terms with you?" Kelly asked. Beth looked at her. "Eddie's told you, I'm sure, that my prognosis isn't good." "Yeah," Kelly said sadly. "Well, Olivia's in complete denial. Just won't accept it. She actually said on the phone the other night, 'What would I do without you?' to me. And I had to remind her that she'll probably find that out sometime soon. She just shrugged it off. 'Oh, you're not going to die, ' she said. She's waiting for a miracle." "Well, I have to say that I don't blame her," Kelly said. "Look, you're here, right? Why give up hope? What kind of friend would she be if she just accepted it?" "Eddie accepts it," Beth replied. "Uh, no," I corrected. "I don't accept it. I'm resigned to the probability. There's a difference." "OK, I see your point," Beth said, "but you're not in denial. Look, it's two years this month since I was diagnosed. There's a 75% morality rate within two years. I'm living on completely borrowed time as it is, from right now onward. Maintaining that there's no way I'm going to die is just denial." "I understand what you're saying," Kelly said, "but look at it this way. As you've said, you've already beaten the odds. Maybe you'll continue to beat them. I'm not in denial. I've talked with Eddie enough to know your odds are long. But I do prefer to look on the bright side of things." She certainly did. It was one of the reasons I loved her. In this case, however, I knew better. Of course, I didn't say that. "There's a difference," was what I did say. "I've seen Olivia. There is a difference between looking on the bright side and being in complete denial." "Right," Beth agreed. "You have hope," she said to Kelly. "Hey, so do I. So does Ed. Olivia, however, doesn't just have hope--she's living in a fantasy world where, for all intents and purposes, I'm not even sick." "Maybe that's how she deals with it," Kelly said. "Yes," Beth agreed, "but the problem with that is, what happens to Olivia if I do die? Look, she's had a lot of bad things happen to her. And I'm the one that she cries to. I'm the one that picks up the pieces. Whose gonna pick up the pieces if I die?" "We will," Kelly said. "Don't worry about Olivia, OK, Beth? Worry about yourself." "Thanks," Beth said, obviously touched. "I mean it. They say attitude helps with a bad illness. Don't worry yourself to death," Kelly continued. "If the worst happens, Olivia will have friends, you can count on that." Beth looked at me. "You're a lucky guy, you know." Kelly just blushed. "I know I am," I agreed. ------- AUGUST 18th, 1979 The rest of July went fine. The first few days of August were fine. Then Kelly left, for two weeks. She and her whole family went to Florida to visit her grandparents. They did this every summer. I was going to miss her--but, hey, it was only two weeks. I spent those two weeks practicing the guitar, playing basketball up the street, and hanging with friends. I went over Stan's a couple of times and we got the guitars out. I hung with Beth a few times, including one day with Olivia where we managed to cheer Olivia up for a day. I also hung with Kara some, just as friends. Today, the eighteenth, was the day Kelly was to come home. Actually, she came home late the night before, but this was the first day I'd be able to see her. I couldn't wait to see her. Summer was almost done and I hoped we'd be able to spend a lot of the rest of it together. It was only two weeks but I'd really missed her. I happily walked over to her house. She opened the door--and she looked absolutely miserable. She looked like she'd been crying. I went to hug her and she stiffened. "We need to talk," she said, and led me to a bench in her backyard. Uh-oh. This didn't look good. It wasn't. "There's no easy way to say this. Eddie, while I was in Florida, I cheated on you. I slept with someone else." "Huh?" was all I could get out. "There's this guy, Steve. I've known him for as long as we've been going down there. He's a year older. He lives behind my grandparents. We've always been friends and, well, I guess we always kind of liked each other, a little. Well, he really liked me, which I hadn't realized. When I got down there, he put the moves on me. And I let him." "Can I ask why?" "Well, there was an attraction there, I won't deny it. I was also horny as all get-out. You weren't around, and I needed it." That's when she started crying. "God, Eddie, I'm so sorry. I just wasn't thinking. He was there, and being all seductive and I was horny--so I gave in. And I've felt this incredible guilt for three days now." I took a deep breath. "Was it something I did?" I asked. "God NO!" she yelped. "Are you kidding me? You're the perfect boyfriend! And, no, the sex with him was horrible. Not like with you at all. Eddie, this has nothing to do with you. This was me being weak and stupid." "OK," I said, and thought for a minute. "I'm not going to deny I'm hurt and betrayed and disappointed. But I still love you, you know." That shocked her. "How can you possibly still love me?" "I just do," I said with a little smile. "We all make mistakes. Was this a mistake?" "A big huge fat one." "Then we can get past it." She looked at me like I had three heads. "What? How the hell can we get past it? You'll never trust me again!" "Sure I will. It might take some time, but I will." I gave her a wry grin. "I might be a bit of a basket case the next time you go to Florida, I'll admit." That's when she started bawling. I went to put my arms around her and she pushed me away. "I can't do this!" she bawled. "Can't do what, Kel?" "I can't sit here and watch you be all noble about this." "I'm not that noble. I'm hurt and upset." "I know, that's why I can't do this," she sniffled. "Eddie, I can't go out with you anymore." "WHAT?" What the hell was she doing? "It's no good. Do you realize how guilty I feel? I look at you sitting there and I feel like scum. I expected you to break up with me. You should be breaking up with me. But you decided to be all noble instead. But I can't do this." "Kelly, we can get through this." "No, we can't. Don't you see?" I'd managed to keep calm until right then. "No, Kelly, I do not see. You're upset and guilty because you did something to hurt me, right?" She nodded. "So, you're going to fix this by hurting me worse? Because, believe me, breaking up with me is worse than cheating on me." "No, it's not. You deserve better than me, Eddie." "I don't want anyone else. I just want you." "Eddie, I just can't!" she wailed. "Every time I look at you it's going to be a reminder." "Fine, but don't pretend you're doing this for me. You're doing this for yourself. You can't deal with the guilt. That's your problem. Don't for a minute think you're doing me any favors." "But I am!" "Bullshit. I could get over you cheating on me. Really, I could. I'd be upset and hurt for a while, but I could get over it. Dumping me? That I might never get over. That's the worst thing you could've ever done." With that, I stormed out of the yard. She called after me, but I just didn't want to hear it. I didn't want to hear her tortured rationalizations for such an idiotic decision. I just didn't get it. I don't think I ever would get it. I don't know. I wasn't a complete nut about fidelity, especially at our age. We were 14. I mean, we weren't fucking married! Yes, it was a betrayal to a degree--and it hurt and was upsetting. But she was truly sorry for doing it and I would've gotten over it. Breaking up with me? Made absolutely no fucking sense whatsoever. I just didn't understand it at all. I clomped up the street, disgusted. When I got to the top, Kara was standing there. "Hi. How you doing?" she asked. "You know," I said. "Yeah, she called in tears last night after she got home." "Well. That's the end of that, anyway," I said bitterly. "Can't you ever forgive her?" Kara asked. "I doubt it," I spat. "Jeez, Eddie, I know you must be hurt but I didn't think you'd react this horribly. I'm glad I never cheated on you." "Oh, I could forgive that. I told her that. I was hurt, but I could get past her cheating." "OK, so what can't you forgive?" "Her breaking up with me," I spat. "She WHAT?" Kara blurted. "Oh, Jesus." "You didn't know she was going to do that?" "God, no!" "I told her straight off that we could get past the cheating. But she dumped me because she's having a severe case of the guilts." "Oh, Jeez, Eddie, I didn't know she was going to do that." "Well, she did." "I'll talk to her." "Thanks--but, I have to say, good luck. You'll need it." "Would you take her back?" "In a heartbeat," I said. "We can get past all this." "You really love her," Kara said softly. "Yeah," I admitted. "Then I'll work on it." ------- AUGUST 23rd, 1979 Kara did work on it. I know that for a fact. However, so far, it had been to no avail. "Damn, I just can't get through to her!" Kara told me over the phone. Unfortunately, I wasn't surprised. Something had broken in Kelly, and I couldn't figure out how to fix it. Neither could Kara. Unfortunately, this was one of the emotional minefields of teenaged sex. Fidelity and guilt and all that. Kelly was reacting like the confused fourteen-year-old she was. I knew that. The problem was, she was over-reacting. I didn't react how I should have, and that should have made it easier for her. I wondered what would've happened if I had pulled a jealous fit. Maybe things would've been better. Maybe the fact that I confounded her expectations confused her more. Maybe we should have never had sex. That one haunted me. Did I do this to her? Because the sex was so unbelievably mind-blowing, because we were truly in love, because she seemed completely ready--had I taken her to a place I shouldn't have? I was thinking of that especially on this day, the 23rd, because I was offered sex on this day. It was Belle, my second cousin from California. She was staying again for a couple of weeks. As I've said, the first time around, this second visit was accompanied by news of a boyfriend in California, and a demand that the two of us just 'be friends'. I knew she was coming--she arrived the day Kelly dumped me--and figured we'd just be friends again this time. Since I thought I had Kelly, that was fine with me. Of course, now I had no Kelly. And things with Belle were not the same as they were in the first life. It seems she did have the boyfriend from California--but had just dumped him. "I slept with him. He was my first. After that he kind of lost interest in anything other than that. And I got tired of being ignored unless he wanted sex. So I dumped him," she told me. "Ah," I said. I had already told her about my love life in the year since I'd seen her. She was glad Kara and I were still friends, but upset for me about Kelly. "When I was here last summer," Belle went on, "I figured out that you and Kara were sleeping together. And Kara looked so damn happy. So, I figured it would be fun. Well, to tell you the truth, it wasn't." "Really?" "I think it was him. I think he was clueless. That's what I want to find out. And I know Kara enjoyed it with you. So, since neither of us is attached at the moment, do you want to have sex with me?" We were alone, at my grandmother's house, and would be alone for a few hours at least. Gram was working, and Belle's mom had gone off for the day with mine. So the opportunity was there. If you don't think I was tempted, you're crazy. Like I said, Belle was a babe. If I went to bed with her, she'd definitely be the most physically attractive girl I'd ever slept with, and that's in either life. Kelly was cute as hell, and Kara was very pretty, but Belle was a bombshell. She'd even grown a bit which made her grow out of some of her chunkiness--but she was still really curvy, which I liked. I had this vision of her walking along a California beach in a bikini, and I could probably jack off to that particular vision for quite some time. And now I was being given the opportunity to, not only see her completely naked, but have sex with her? That was gonna be hard to turn down. I thought about doing just that, though. I really did. Kelly still haunted me. I still wondered if introducing her to sex was the worst thing I could've ever done. Then again, it hadn't scarred Kara any, had it? And, though I thought at first it might have scarred Christine, I turned out to be wrong about that, too. Plus, the 14 year old indignant part of my brain proclaimed--what was I doing feeling guilty about Kelly? I didn't cheat. I didn't break up with her. Why was I searching frantically for something to take blame about? Sex? Hell, I waited until she was ready, didn't I? Kelly wasn't my fault. If she was fucked up, she did that to herself all on her own. As an added incentive, I wouldn't be Belle's first. If she was screwed up about sex, it wasn't my doing, right? Plus, we knew what the ground rules were. She was going back to California in a little over a week. There was no 'relationship' to worry about. We liked each other, a lot, but there was no romance here, not with 3,000 miles separating us. This was an offer of no-strings-attached sex. Plus, I was horny as hell. So, I said yes. No, it is not one of my prouder moments. But I did it. And, you know what? It was great. We got undressed, I played with her for a while, then I ate her out--which made her go absolutely berserk. Then I fucked her. It wasn't like it was with Kelly, but it was still sex. Good sex, with a very enthusiastic and appreciative girl. And sexy. Really sexy. Belle with no clothes on--well, that's an image burned into my mind for all time. This girl could be a Playboy centerfold. And she let me fuck her. In fact, we did it twice more before she went back to California. And, you know what? She thanked me. "You are so much better than my ex-boyfriend I can't tell you. Thank you for showing me what sex is supposed to be like." It felt good, dammit. I enjoyed it. I liked her reactions and I got off. So what if there was a little voice in the back of my head yelling, "It's not the same as with Kelly--or even Kara." It was close. It was sex. Sex was good. Love? That's what sucked. ------- SEPTEMBER 24th, 1979 When I got to school for the beginning of the school year, I didn't see anything to change my mind about that conclusion. Kara hadn't been able to get through to Kelly. Furthermore, Kelly wouldn't even talk to me. She'd see me in the halls or on the bus and just look at me like she was about to start crying. Fuck that. Who needs that? It wasn't just me. Livvie was still mooning over Dennis. Michelle and her boyfriend Mike had seemingly gotten closer over the summer, which made Stan feel like shit. Even other people--Danica had started dating Stan's friend Rob Silverman at the end of last school year and that had broken up in late August. Hell, I even had to console Kara through a phone call. Her boyfriend dumped her--seems he found someone else over the summer. So, we went back to school, the Old Gang, in a state of disarray. And this was a new school, Cabot High. There were two Junior High Schools in Cabot, East and West. They both fed into the high school. So, half the school was new kids. It was a new school for us, new teachers, new classes, and half new classmates. It would've been easier to take, I think, if we'd all stuck together. But we didn't. Kelly avoided me. Danica avoided Rob. Michelle didn't want to rub Stan's face in it so she avoided Stan. Olivia avoided all human contact with anyone that wasn't Beth. I ate most days with Stan. Just the two of us, wallowing in our misery. Sometimes Beth ate with us, but that meant Olivia, too, and Olivia just brought everybody down. I stuck it out for Beth's sake, but I was miserable. Maybe if I had been able to rely on the myth of Eddie the Stud, I might have at least gotten laid. However, that didn't seem to have carried over. Christine certainly wasn't going to say anything good about me. Kelly wasn't going to talk about me at all. And Kara wasn't here. Somehow, the change of schools had turned me back into the School Nerd. It wasn't as bad--no beatings or vicious tauntings or anything like that--I was just seen as a nerd. Even though there were enough people in that school that should've known better. I wasn't connecting with new people and my old friends had scattered. So, I concentrated on my studies. I still considered that the most important thing. I kept working out. I played the guitar a lot, often with Stan. And I waited for things to get better. However, I knew the truth. Things weren't gonna get better. I knew what was coming. It came on this day, the 24th, a Monday. I sat down at lunch with Stan, and Olivia joined us. "Mind if I sit here? Beth's not in school today." "She's not?" I said. "Nope. We have English class in the morning together and she wasn't there. She must be sick or something." Sick or something? Livvie, as Beth had said, was in denial. However, I knew. The timing was right, so I knew. When I got home, I had it confirmed. My mom had talked to Lydia, Beth's mom. Saturday, Beth had gone back in the hospital. Her leukemia was out of remission. ------- Chapter 9 "AND IN THE END, THE LOVE YOU TAKE, IS EQUAL TO THE LOVE YOU MAKE." OCTOBER 27th, 1979 October of 1979 was a slow descent into hell. Kelly breaking up with me? Who cared? That seemed so insignificant all of a sudden. Though I'll admit that it would've been nice for her to be around to help get me through this. Stan bucked me up. As did some of my other pals. Kara made sure to call me a few times a week, more than we ever had. I made sure I kept updated. Mom got the news from Lydia and passed it on to me, because I made her. "Anything you hear, let me know," I told her. Though I already knew--still, I couldn't let on to Mom about that. So, Mom told me, "They're throwing everything they've got at her. So far, she hasn't gone back into remission yet." This went on for a month. On this day, I knew it was time. Beth had told the world at large that she didn't want any visitors outside of immediate family. I was about to disregard her wishes. This was a Saturday. I woke up and said to my Mom, "Can I have a ride to the train station?" "What for?" "I want to go into Boston." "OK, what's in Boston?" I took a breath. "Children's Hospital." I was sitting at the kitchen table. Mom had been flitting around the kitchen. When I said that, she sighed, and sat down across from me. "Eddie, Beth requested no visitors in the hospital." "I know she did. I'm ignoring her." "She doesn't want people to see her like this, Eddie. She's probably got tubes and stuff stuck into her. They've been bombarding her with chemo so I'm sure she's lost her hair. She's probably lost weight and she didn't have much to spare to begin with. She doesn't want anyone to see her that way." "She should know me better than that. Like I care what she looks like?" "Yes, but..." "Mom," I interrupted her, "Let's face facts. Beth isn't ever coming back out of that hospital." She looked shocked for a moment, then resignation settled onto her face. "Most likely not." "Right. So I'm getting on a train and going to Boston... so I can say goodbye." She looked at me for a minute. Then she said, "Get your coat. I'll meet you in the car." ------- I got into Boston, took a subway to the hospital, then found Beth's room. She had a private room. I stood in the doorway for a minute. Mom was right. She looked horrible. But I knew that's what she was going to look like. It didn't matter. She was lying in the bed, hooked up to all kinds of tubes and machines. She looked weak and wasted. The buckets of chemo they were pouring into her had actually managed to make her slightly pale--though, amazingly, she hadn't lost her hair. Still, it was heartbreaking. And it still didn't matter. I stepped into the room. "Beffy?" She had been reading. She looked over from her book and gasped. "Eddie? What are you doing here?" "I had to come see you." "I told Mom I didn't want any visitors. I didn't want anyone to see me like this." "I know," I said, and walked over to the bed. "Do you think it really matters to me?" "It matters to me." "It shouldn't." "Eddie. I don't want you to remember me like this." "I won't," I said with a smile. "Remember that dance we went to last Christmas?" She smiled a little. "How could I forget it?" "Well, I've got pictures. That is how I'm going to remember you. Don't worry about that. But I had to come, and you know why." She looked down. "Eddie, the treatment is not working. They can't stop it." "I know. That's why I'm here." "You know?" I nodded. That's when she realized it. "You came to say goodbye." "Yes," I admitted. She looked at me. "I have been thinking about this for a while. I've known you your whole life. I always loved you, you know that, but you worried me. You've always worried me. And I didn't think you were going to be able to deal with my illness at all. I thought you'd go to pieces. But you didn't. You've been more mature than anyone. And it started right after I came back to school. It didn't start right after I'd been diagnosed, because I know you had a breakdown at Boy Scout camp right after. Something happened to you, Eddie, right before I came back to school. An epiphany, or something." "Yes." "What was it? Was it just me?" "No." "Then what?" I took a breath. "You'd never ever believe me even if I told you." She mustered up a bit of her spunk, which took some effort. "Eddie Bovilas, you have never lied to me in your life, and I know it. I wouldn't expect you to start lying now." "It's pretty fantastic." She snorted. "Eddie. I'm 15 years old and I'm dying. And I believe in a just and merciful God. I'll believe anything at this point." I thought for a minute. I'd never planned on ever telling anyone. I was afraid I'd be locked up or laughed at or something. I planned to take my secret to the grave. However... there had been other things in my life that I'd never planned on telling anyone. Other secrets I aimed to keep. However, I always made an exception--and the exception was Beth. I told her everything. If I was going to tell anyone, it would be her. And, besides which, she was in the hospital, on her deathbed. She'd be taking my secret to the grave by necessity. "It did start before you came back to school in eighth grade, yes. It happened on October 3rd, 1977. I woke up that morning in my room with my mother calling me to get up for school. However, when I had gone to bed the previous night--it had been October 2nd, 2007--and I was 42 years old. I went to bed that night thinking I was having a heart attack. I thought I might be dying. I hadn't taken good care of myself. But, instead of dying, somehow I got pushed back in time 30 years." She just gaped at me. "I knew you wouldn't believe me." "I just said you'd never lie to me. I know that. But how is this possible?" "You got me." "So you're really, what, 44 years old, not 14?" "Somewhat. It's kind of a mixture. I have both sets of memories. I react more often like a teenager, but there's the other set of memories that sort of act as something like a restraining device." "Did you welcome this?" she asked softly. "Not at first. Eight grade, the first time around, was a nightmare. Eventually I figured out I could change some things, so I've come to see it as a blessing. Nobody else knows, by the way." "I can see why," she said with a little laugh. She was becoming more alert now; she'd sat up in the bed, obviously interested. "What's changed?" "Well, the first time, there was no Kara, no Kelly. I was a complete washout with girls. I got beat up a lot more. That's one thing I resolved when I got sent back, to get in shape. I actually did go to the Prep the first time around." "Why not this time?" "Because it stunted me socially, especially with girls." "That makes sense," she said, "but wasn't it better academically?" "It didn't help in the long run. I never made it out of college. I was working in retail when I got sent back." "YOU?" "I fucked up a lot of things," I admitted. "Then, there was you." "Me?" "We went to a dance then, too, it was just at the Prep and not Cabot East. Then you started pushing me away. Because I was a confused, self-absorbed, 14-year-old kid, I let you." I took a breath. "I didn't see you for the last 8 months of your life." "Oh, Eddie," she sighed. "And that haunted you, didn't it?" "Yes." "That's why you're here." "Yes. And that's why I confronted you about pushing me away." "Good. Then I'm glad I gave in on both of those. The last thing I ever wanted to do was to hurt you. On the contrary." "I know that," I told her. "I never blamed you, I blamed myself." "Well, you shouldn't have done that, either. I'm actually glad you're here today, and was even before you told me this. I could use the company. My parents had something to do today." Her voice got very small. "I'm not in the mood to be alone." "Good." Just then, she got a stricken look on her face. "Oh, jeez, Eddie--you already lived through my death? And now you have to do it again? Damn." "Hey, at least I'm handling it better. Unfortunately, leukemia, especially your strain of it, hasn't been cured in 2007. If it had, I would've thought of something, even if it got me locked up in the loony bin. But it hasn't, so there wasn't anything I could do." "You know, that's depressing. That they still aren't going to cure this miserable thing in thirty years." "Well, they've made progress. They can cure some of the less virulent strains more easily. There are more treatments. But people still die from it. I'm no doctor, so this is a layman speaking. I'm guessing you might have been able to squeeze out another six months or a year. Maybe. But they don't have a cure for it." "That really does suck." "It's not a sexy disease." "A sexy disease?" "Yeah. In a couple of years there will be this thing called AIDS." I explained to her what AIDS was. "And that gets a lot of attention. First it gets negative attention because it's a 'gay disease'. Then the scientists figure straight people can get it, too. The chances of that, they find out years and years later, are way overblown--but that starts the panic. AIDS gets a lot of attention--and a lot of attention paid to it by the researchers. It's not cured when I came back in 2007, but the lifespan of people who get it are a lot longer. But it's a 'sexy' disease. Probably partially because it's sexually transmitted. Tell people that something as fun as sex can kill them, and they react." "Yeah, but other diseases languish in research," she said sadly. "Yeah. Breast cancer is another one that gets a lot of attention--because the women's groups push it. Now, I'm grateful for that, actually. My mother will get breast cancer about ten years from now, and survive it." "Wow. That's right, you know the future!" she laughed. "Well, what of it I can remember. It has come in handy when laying down a wager on the Super Bowl." "You brat," she laughed. Then she gave me a wicked little grin. "So, you got sent back thirty years in time. And you have no idea how it happened. Doesn't this give you a little bit of a doubt about that atheism of yours?" "Sure does," I agreed. "I've been thinking a lot about that. But it also sheds doubt on the traditional Biblical God-concept, too." "How so?" "Well, why aren't I in heaven? Or hell? I mean, there's nothing in the Bible about time travel, is there?" "Hmmm. Good point." "Another thing. Let's assume that there was some being called 'God' that did this to me. Which is probably what you're thinking." She nodded. "Well, remember that talk we had a while ago, after my first time with Kara, where I told you that I didn't think God, if he existed, cared who we screwed?" She nodded again. "Well, now I know I'm right." "What makes you think that?" "If it's God, he's omniscient, right? Well, he had to know that one of the biggest things I'd want to correct after being sent back in time is being a virgin until I was 22. He had to know that. He knew I'd be looking for sex." She cracked up. "Well, I guess I can't argue with that, can I? But, wow, Eddie--from 22 to 13? I think I'm impressed!" "I was stunned." "I'll bet!" I realized something, with a shock. "You believe me, don't you?" "I don't have any choice. Like I said, you've never lied to me. I'm willing to consider that maybe it was a dream or something, the 30 years you say you lived, but you clearly don't think so. Neither, quite honestly, do I." "I have a lot of memories from those 30 years. It would be one hell of an elaborate dream. And a lot of it has already happened again. Sometimes the circumstances changed, but all the circumstances that change happen because of changes I've made. And I can see where the paths diverge. So, if it was all a dream--it was very elaborate and clairvoyant." "Yeah. Well, I have to tell you," she said, "you telling me this now probably makes me more open to it. Let's face it. Whatever's out there--whatever happens after death--I'm about to find out. And faith is wonderful. Faith helps me out. But, at this point? I wouldn't mind a bit of certainty, you know?" "Yeah, I know. Look, here's a story. This is pretty horrific, but I'm telling it to make a point. In 22 years, Islamic fundamentalist terrorists from the Middle East are going to highjack four passenger planes leaving American airports. They're going to fly two of those planes into the World Trade Center, and one into the Pentagon. The fourth, the passengers take it over and crash it into a field in Pennsylvania. Thousands of innocent people died." "My GOD," she hissed. "I know. But, like I said, I'm telling you this to make a point. Those hijackers left behind writings; and, of course, the mullahs that trained and led them were still alive to talk about them. Evidently, these guys truly believed that Allah told them to fly planes into buildings, and that they would be rewarded by going to heaven where 70 virgins were waiting for them." Beth snorted. "70 virgins. That figures." "Right. But, think about this--is that any more ludicrous than some of the other heaven-concepts out there?" "No, it's why they thought they were going to go there. It's that God would want them to kill innocent people. Doesn't a loving God make more sense?" "Not necessarily. I mean, didn't God spend half of the Old Testament wiping out half the enemies of the Israelites? Half the OT is smiting. God smote these guys, then he smote these guys, and so on." "True. But Jesus did preach love," she pointed out. "Yes, he did, but the OT is still part of the Christian canon. And all the adherents of this stuff claim it's all divinely inspired." "OK. So what's your point?" "My point is, if there is a God and a heaven and all that--we have absolutely no clue as to the nature of it." "And your experiences do bear that out," she mused. "Of course, I have just always believed that Christianity was right and all the rest of the religions were wrong." "I know. But I would think an all-powerful omniscient God would've cleared some of this shit up at some point." "I see your point. Oh, well, I'll find out soon enough. I just hope there's something." "I do, too," I agreed. "Though I'm not sure I'd want to be one of the 70 virgins." "Might be fun," I said with a wicked grin. "Too much competition," she giggled. Just then, the nurse came in to check her over. They also brought her lunch. The chemo made her nauseous but she was able to eat a little. I went to find something for myself to eat. "Are you coming back?" she asked. "You betcha." ------- When I came back, she was sitting up in the bed. They'd taken out her tubes and stuff. "I don't have to have them in the whole time," she told me. She was staring out into space. "Eddie, I'm scared." "Of course you are. You wouldn't be normal if you weren't." "I'm not allowed to be scared," she snorted. "What do you mean?" "All I hear is how I'm facing this with so much 'dignity' and 'courage.' Sometimes they don't realize I'm listening, but I hear it. So, I feel like I'll let them down if I show how scared I am." "I see. I still think you shouldn't be held to such a high standard." "Eddie--my mother is falling apart. Dad's decently OK, and he does know how scared I am, but my mother's a basket case. My brothers aren't much better. Especially Mark." Mark was her youngest brother. He was only 8, and had learning disabilities--dyslexia, plus what in my time would've been called ADHD. Beth absolutely doted on him. And now she was leaving and poor Mark at his age could barely understand why. "I feel like I constantly have to be the strong one. I mean, my mother's the one that's going to have to pick up the pieces after I'm gone." "Yeah. But you're still allowed to be scared, in my book." That's when she started crying. I looked at her, a look of welcome. She caught it, and she got off the bed and walked over to the chair next to the window where I was sitting. I opened my arms, and she curled up on my lap, crying. I had promised myself I was not going to cry while I was in this room. I managed to keep to that. Barely. "This just sucks," she sniffled as her tears eased off some. "That it does," I agreed. "Tell me about the future," she said. So I did. I told her about computers and CDs and cell phones and all that stuff. Just chatting about what I knew about the next thirty years. Generic stuff, really. She enjoyed it. Afterwards, still in my lap, she said, "You know when I'm going to die, don't you?" "Yes." "When?" "Do you really want to know that?" She thought for a minute. "Well, if it's soon, yes. If I go back into remission and last another year or so, no, I don't want to know. But if it's soon..." "Beffy. You requested no visitors. Would I have ignored that if you were coming back out of this hospital?" "No. You wouldn't. So, it's soon. Tell me." I did. "Was it quick?" "As far as I know, you were conscious right up near the end. You lost consciousness, then died quickly thereafter. You didn't linger." "Do you know what my last words were?" "Everybody knew what your last words were. They were carved on your tombstone." "That good?" "That good." She looked up at me expectantly. I grinned back at her. "Well?" she said. "Well what? I'm not going to tell you. You found them all by yourself the first time--you'll do it again." "Fine," she snorted, but with a little grin. "Well, this is one conversation I never thought I'd be having." "Me either. I didn't come here planning to tell you." "I'm glad you did. Tell me, I mean. I'm also glad you came." "I am, too. I love you, Beth." "I love you, too. And, yes, I've always known that. So you didn't have to come here to tell me. But yeah, again, I'm glad you did." "It's always nice to hear," I grinned. She got off my lap and wandered back over to the bed. "Look, I need to ask you a favor. Can you disappear for twenty minutes or so? I need to do something and I can't be distracted. Can you go get something to drink or something?" "Sure," I said tentatively. "Don't worry, you'll understand when you get back." "OK," I said. I went down to the gift shop and got the newspaper, then went to the coffee shop and got a cup of coffee. I drank the coffee and read the Boston Globe for about twenty minutes. Then I went back up. When I got up there, Beth handed me an envelope. "This is a note for Olivia. I had to write something to her. That's why I wanted you to take off for a bit. Could you please give it to her? After I'm, you know, gone." "Will do. Damn, Livvie's gonna be a basket case." "Tell me about it. Eddie, you're gonna have to take care of her. Will you do that for me?" "Who's gonna take care of me?" "You seem to be handling this very well," she said. "I'm a good actor," I snorted. "Yeah, I know. But, as to your question--you've built up a good group of friends. You are going to have people to support you. Livvie's got nobody." "I know," I said. "I'll help her out." "I knew you would." She looked outside. It was late October, but it was a pretty nice day--sunny and in the high fifties. Your basic New England Indian Summer. "I want to go outside." "Can you?" She snorted. "They're going to stop me? What are they going to do--yell at me for going outside? I'm too weak to walk very far, though." "Do you have clothes?" "Yeah. In that closet there." I fetched her some clothes and went to find a wheelchair. If she wanted to go out, I was going to take her out. While she got dressed, I flagged down a nurse. "Can I borrow a wheelchair?" "Why?" she asked me. "My friend wants some air." "Who's your friend?" "Elizabeth Trovini." "The leukemia patient? I don't think she's approved to go out." "She's going out," I said firmly. "She wants to go out, so I'm going to take her out." "Look, your friend is a very sick young lady. What are you going to do if something happens to her while you're out gallivanting around?" This was one point where I was glad I was what I was. I wasn't cowed by this like a normal 14-year-old would be. "Beth isn't a 'very sick young lady.' She's dying." The nurse looked at me, stunned. "She's never coming out of this hospital. She knows it. So, what if something happens while we're out? Who cares? Heck, I'd rather die outside on a nice day than cooped up in a hospital room anyway. Besides which, that's why I want a wheelchair. She won't be exerting herself. She'll be fine. Well, as fine as a dying person can be," I said pointedly. The nurse blinked at me, then walked around a corner. When she came back around, she was pushing a wheelchair. "Thank you," I said sincerely. "Just bring her back." "You got it." I got back into the room and Beth was dressed. She saw the wheelchair. "You did it!" "The nurse was resistant, but I managed." I helped her get her coat on, then into the wheelchair. "Hold on," she said, and reached for a notebook on her table. She left a note, just in case her parents showed up, and left it on the bed. We headed out. Children's Hospital was in an area of Boston surrounded by hospitals and educational institutions. In other words, there wasn't anywhere nearby where we could go window shopping or anything like that. It was an institutional area. Beth was just happy to be out. We started walking, then found a place. Right down the street from Children's Hospital was Harvard Medical School. The main buildings of the school were arranged around a quad. The quad was a large grassy area, cut through with concrete walking paths, filled with trees. There were benches. We found one and I sat down on it, Beth in her wheelchair next to me. Even though it was a weekend, there were plenty of Harvard Med students scurrying by. They didn't take too much notice of two teenagers, one in a wheelchair, sitting on a bench and chatting. I'll bet it wasn't all that uncommon. "God, Eddie, I feel so much better. Thank you so much." "You're welcome." "I was getting awfully tired of lying in a hospital bed waiting to die." "Hey, if you asked me to smuggle you out of here and take you out for a gourmet dinner, I would." She laughed. "I think that's a little beyond my capabilities. You're the best friend I could ever have, so I wouldn't want to do something to you like collapse face-down into the roast beef." "Good point. Are you OK now?" "Fine. The fresh air actually helps." "Good." We just sat there for a minute, watching the world go by. "Can I say something that might upset you?" "Very little you could say to me would upset me," she said. "Shoot." "I think you're underestimating your mother. I think you can lean on her more that you think you can." "Maybe. I'm not sure I want to, though. You've been good about letting me let it out. I think that's enough. Look, it's all the people that I'm leaving behind that are going to have to pick up the pieces. Not me, I won't be here." "True. I think you can tell her you're scared, though. I don't think that will break her." "Maybe. Dad knows." She was silent for a minute. "Can I ask you a favor?" "Anything," I told her. "Will you get up and talk at my funeral? I'll make sure Mom knows that's one of my wishes." I barked out a string of laughter. "I don't know if that's a very good idea." "Why not?" "Me? Speaking at a Catholic funeral? I don't like Catholic funerals. They're all about 'she's in a better place' and 'God called her home' and all that. I wouldn't conform to that. I couldn't get up and talk about you and stick to the Catholic Party Line." "I never thought you would. What would you talk about?" "How much you meant to me." "Good. And you'll probably be the only one strong enough to do it." "I think you're overestimating my strength," I said wryly. "But if that's what you want, I'll do it." "Good." We sat there for quite a while, just chatting. A lot about generic stuff. Just sharing with each other. At one point, she started talking about, of all things, my love life. "I wish Kelly hadn't broken up with you. You two were great together." "Sore subject," I admitted. "I know. It would just make it, you know, easier. On you, afterwards, I mean." "I know, but I have friends I can lean on, like you said." "OK. Just, if she approaches you..." "I know. Believe me, I know." She sighed a little. "I think I'm getting cold." "OK. Back to the hospital for you, then." "Yeah," she agreed sadly. I got up off the bench, and got behind the wheelchair, and started pushing. "This was wonderful, Eddie," she said. As we got back into the hospital and back up to her room, things got less wonderful. There were people in her room, and they were freaking. Her parents, a nurse--not the one that had given me the wheelchair--and a doctor. We turned into the room and they pounced. "Where have you been?" her mother hissed. "I left you a note," Beth said. "Young lady, you're not supposed to be leaving the hospital," the doctor said. "What difference does it really make?" Beth asked softly, which stopped everyone in their tracks. After things settled down a little, I went outside so Beth could get back out of her clothes and into her nightshirt. Her mom stayed in with her. Her dad came out with me. "Look, Eddie, Lydia's frantic." "For good reason." I agreed. "Yes. But, for what it's worth--I'm glad you took her outside." "Thanks." We went back in, and chatted for a while. Her parents then left, promising to be back in about an hour, after they'd found some supper. "I have to go soon," I said with great reluctance. "I have to catch a train." "I know. A few minutes?" "Yeah." She was still unconnected from the tubes and IV's. She slid over a little in the bed. "Get over here." I did, and climbed in next to her, and held her in my arms. She snuggled her face into my chest. "I love you, Eddie. You're my best friend." "I love you, too. The difference you've made in my life is so great I don't even think I could describe it. Twice now." She giggled a little at that. "That's pretty good for me, I did it twice. Thank you for not letting me push you away." "This time, at least." "I'm quite sure the other time, I knew. I always knew, Eddie." "Yeah, but it's better that I came here and said it." "And got me out of this place for a bit." "Yeah." We lay there, just holding one another, for a while. "Eddie? You're getting something most people don't get... a second chance. Do something with it, please? I mean, really. Retail! You're the smartest person I know. You can do anything you want." "I know." "Well, this time, do it. Do something worthwhile." "Yes, mistress," I joked. She giggled. "Or at the very least, get filthy rich and have a harem of beautiful girls," she teased, cracking me up. "And love somebody. That's important." "I know." "Have a good life, please, Eddie. For me?" "I will. I promise." We stayed there for a few more minutes. But I had to go. As much as I wanted to stay, I had to go. I disentangled myself from her, and stood up next to the bed. She smiled at me, her eyes full of love, and sadness, at the same time. I'm sure mine looked the same. I leaned over, and kissed her. "Goodbye, Beth," I said. She shook her head. "Until we meet again," she corrected. "Until we meet again," I agreed, hoping against hope. She smiled. I leaned over and kissed her one more time, and then I stood up. "I love you," I whispered. "I love you too. Don't you ever forget that." "I couldn't if I tried," I said softly. Then I turned and walked out of her room. ------- NOVEMBER 1st, 1979 The first time around, when I went to the Prep, November 1st was a day off from school. It was All Saint's Day, a holy day in the Catholic Church, and the Prep was a Catholic school. I had taken that day as an opportunity to go Christmas shopping. Mom dropped me off at the mall at about 11 in the morning, and picked me up at 3. When I called her for the pick-up and as we drove home I could tell that something was wrong, but it wasn't until we got home that she told me that she had gotten the call while I was out, and that Beth was gone. This time, I was at Cabot High, and there was no day off. So, I was in school. And I felt it. I don't know if it was because we were closer at the end, or because I knew that it was going to happen today, or what--but I felt it. It was right around noon, I had just sat down at lunch with the gang, when I felt it. It was like a chill, a wind, that ran right through me and made every hair on my body stand on end. And I knew. Goodbye, Beffy. ------- Author's note: On my intro page to this story, I tell you that all characters are fictional. Technically, that's true. I never knew anyone named "Kara Pocharsky". Or "Kelly Cullinane". Or... you get the idea. So, the characters in Rewind are fictional. Technically. My name's not "Ed Bovilas," either. So he's a fictional character, too. Technically . I never knew anyone named "Beth Trovini," either. In her case, however, I'll admit it--there's not much there that's fiction about her character besides the name. Well, I tweaked a few things. I made "Beth" a little bit more talkative and outgoing than she really was. I also changed, a bit, the nature of her relationship with "Eddie". In real life, her relationship with me was big-sister-ish/bordering-on-maternal. She was far more mature than I was, and worried about me. (I'm sure that's part of what was behind her pushing me away.) I kept some of that in, of course--but, because "Eddie" was a different person due to the time-travel, there was less of that by necessity. Outside of that? It's as true a portrait as 25 years of memory will allow. Rewind's a lot of things, but one of those is--it's a tribute, to one of the greatest people I ever had the pleasure to know. I hope that I, in some small way, brought her back to life, just a little bit, so that you all could get to know her a little. This is NOT the end of Rewind. Not hardly. Eddie's still here, he's got a lot to do, and he's got a lot to deal with. And he's going to find he's dealing with it from a very different place than he did the 'first time around.' I've got a lot more of his story to tell. It goes on. However, it goes on without Beth. Just as real life did. Rewind is dedicated to the memory of a young girl who died too soon, who, in this story, I chose to call Beth Trovini. I loved her very much, and I miss her terribly. And yes, it is true that her last words were carved on her tombstone. What were they? "Don't cry too much, keep the family together." 15 years old, about to die, and she comes up with that one? I can't give you any better insight into who--and what--she was. As always, thanks for reading. --Frank ------- Chapter 10 "Remember The Day I Set You Free, I Told You You Could Always Count On Me" Note: I wrote this chapter before former President Reagan died. There is a reference to him in this chapter. Anyone who knows my politics can figure out that Reagan wasn't my favorite president! However, I left in the reference because it is a good way to illustrate Eddie's mindset--knowing the results of something like a presidential election in advance. ------- NOVEMBER 1st, 1979 After lunch, I practically sleepwalked through my next class. The one after that, which was history, they made an announcement over the loudspeaker. I didn't think that was necessarily the right thing to do. I mean, some people, that's how they found out. I'm not sure if I liked it. I later found out that Beth had requested it be done. But she was dying. Someone should have talked her out of it. Anyhow, I was sitting in history class, and the loudspeaker crackled. "Attention. May I please have everyone's attention." It was the principal himself. "I have sad news. A member of our Sophomore class, Elizabeth Trovini, lost her long battle with leukemia and passed away late this morning. Funeral arrangements are still being made and will be posted on the bulletin board outside of the office when they are complete. Our condolences go out to Elizabeth's family and friends." I wasn't going to cry. There was no reason to cry. I knew this was coming. I'd lived through it before. I accepted the inevitability of it. I wasn't going to cry. I cried. Sitting there in the middle of fucking history class with big huge fat tears rolling down my face. I just couldn't stop it. I knew she was gone--had known for some time that she was going--but hearing that announcement was like a kick in the gut. I realized something then. I thought I'd dealt with things much better this time--not letting her push me away, keeping our friendship right until the end, going to see her in the hospital a mere five days ago. I figured that was the better way to handle it. And in the long run, I'm sure it would be. In the short run? Well, the way I handled it the first time, Beth and I did say goodbye, in a manner of speaking, though we never said it out loud. It was the long, gradual, fading-away-in-the-distance goodbye. When she left, she was already gone, if you see what I mean. This way? It was sudden. It was brutal. Even though I knew it was coming. Five days! I'd seen her five fucking days ago! And now--gone. Like that. Just completely brutal. Now I know why she'd pushed me away the first time, and why she tried to push me away this time, and why she didn't want me visiting her in the hospital. She was trying to save me from this. I still thought she was wrong, mind you. Because I could see into the future. It might be worse now, but it wouldn't be five, ten, twenty years down the road. I was convinced of that. First, however, I had to live through the now. And the now was me sitting in a damn class unable to stop crying, with the teacher and the rest of my classmates--many of whom didn't know Beth from a hole in the wall--looking on in horror. However, I'd forgotten who was in that class with me. And I guess with the whole post-Kelly post-everything else fallout, I'd forgotten who my friends were. Two of them reminded me. Danica Rosen was in that class, and before I knew it, she was crouched next to my desk, murmuring in my ear and rubbing my hand. Michelle Pepper was standing behind me, massaging my neck. Damn. The teacher, Mrs. Cruickshank, spoke up after a few minutes. "Are you going to be all right, Ed?" I couldn't speak. Michelle spoke for me. "Beth Trovini was his best friend," she told Mrs. Cruickshank. "Michelle? Dani? Could one of you get Ed to the nurse, please?" Mrs. Cruickshank said. They managed to get me out of my chair and Michelle walked me down to the nurse, her arm around me. I'd gotten the crying down to the odd sniffle. "I know how bad this sucks," she said. "That it does." "Eddie? I'm going to miss her, too. Thank you for introducing her to me. I'm a better person for having known her." That just made me start crying all over again. However, through the tears, I had a moment of perfect clarity. This time around, I had lessened my isolation, hadn't let Beth push me away, and had stayed here instead of going to the Prep. Because of all those things combined, who had I introduced Beth to that would've never have known her? God, there were so many. Kelly, Kara, Danica, Michelle, Stan... the list just went on. Those people got to know Beth. Michelle was clearly broken up--not as badly as I was, but she felt the loss. Grief shared is grief lessened, right? Besides, what Michelle said was right--anyone that got to know Beth was a better person for it. Even in the midst of my tears, I had an enormous sense of having done the right thing. We got to the nurse's office, and I heard this awful wailing. I immediately knew what it was. "Oh my God, Olivia," I said to Michelle. "Shit. She's going to be a basket case. At least you had accepted in your mind that it was coming," Michelle said. "Right." We walked up to the nurse. Michelle knew her, she was Michelle's neighbor. "Hi, Mrs. Lancaster," she said. "This is my friend Eddie. The girl that died was his best friend, he's a little shook up." "Are you OK?" she asked. "I'm a little shaky. I started crying in history class," I admitted. "That howling. Is that Olivia Drogins?" "Yes, it is," the nurse said sadly. "She's inconsolable. I understand she was very close to--what was her name? Elizabeth?" I nodded. "Well, Olivia's having a far worse time of it than you are." "I accepted the probabilities. Olivia was in denial. Can I see her? It might help." "Are you sure that is a good idea, Eddie?" Michelle asked. "You weren't in great shape yourself a minute ago." "I'm better than Olivia. She needs a friend." Michelle nodded. I hugged her and thanked her for the support. She headed back to class, as the nurse took me to the room where Olivia was. She looked absolutely horrible. She obviously had been crying and wailing for some time. This is why I disagreed with announcing it over the loudspeaker. "Eddie?" she wailed. "Oh, God, Eddie, she's gone! I can't believe she's gone!" After that, there were no words, just screaming. I just went over to her and held her for a while. I didn't know what else to do. I wasn't exactly feeling all that great myself. She settled down a little bit. "I have something for you," I told her, remembering. It was in my book bag. I took it out and handed it to her. "I saw Beth on Saturday, I went into the hospital." "She'd said no visitors," Olivia said. "I ignored her. She was pissed at first, but finally was glad. We had a wonderful day together. Anyway, she wrote you something. She told me to give it to you, you know, after." "What's in it?" she said, looking at the envelope. "I have no idea. That's between you and Beth. I'm just the deliveryman." She tore it open and started reading, and I watched her gradually relax. It was visible. She was pulling herself together, reading the last note from Beth. I didn't ask. That note was from Beth to Olivia. Beth and I had said what needed to be said. So, I don't know what Beth wrote. Whatever it was--it helped. It helped a lot. Olivia got stronger with every line she read. That's Beth for you. Anyhow, we hugged for a while after she finished the note--but she was better. She was still a little sniffly, but better. She decided to stay with the nurse for the rest of the day, but I headed for my last class, biology. I felt better and bio was my favorite subject. I was a little late. I handed Mr. Cullin, the teacher, my note from the nurse. "Feeling ill, Ed?" he asked. "Not physically. But I'm OK for now." "You look like you've been crying," he said. He said it softly, but, of course, the whole class heard. "The girl that died today, Beth Trovini, was my best friend," I told him. "I'm OK now, though." "You really don't have to be here," he said. "I'm fine," I said, and took my seat. Afterwards, Stan was waiting for me. "You OK?" he asked. "I'm hanging in there," I said. "If you need anything?" "Thanks. It's appreciated." I made my way out to the bus stop. I got on the bus, kind of lost. Danica had already grabbed a seat, and pulled me into it. "You need a friend today," she said. "Thanks," I replied gratefully. Sara said something to me as she passed, as did some of the others on the bus. Kelly was one of the last people on the bus. She looked miserable--hey, she'd become friends with Beth, too, when we were going out. She looked around and spotted me, and walked up to me. "Eddie, I'm so sorry," she said. "Thanks," I replied. Those were the first words she'd said to me since we broke up. And it just didn't seem to matter anymore. She bit her lip and kept walking towards the back of the bus. Danica put her hand on mine for the whole ride home. When I got home, Mom was there waiting for me. I could tell she'd been crying. "I know," I told her, "they announced it at school." "Are you OK?" "Not particularly." "Eddie, I'm so glad you went in to see her on Saturday." "So am I. I'm gonna go to my room, listen to some music," I told her. I listened to music for most of the afternoon, just lying on the bed, lost in my thoughts. Mom called me for dinner after a while. "Where is everybody?" I asked her, seeing it was just us. "Your brother and sister are over your Grandmother's. Dad's got a late job tonight so he won't be home until close to midnight. And after supper, I'm going over to Lydia's. She needs some help tonight." "OK," I said. "Will you be OK alone?" "Yeah," I said, though I wasn't too sure of that. Maybe I'd call someone. "The wake is tomorrow. The funeral is Saturday. Look, Gram wants to go to the funeral. I don't know if Dad is going to be around. I thought that you might not want to go to the funeral, so you could stay home and watch the kids." That's what had happened the first time. That's right, I didn't go to Beth's funeral the first time. The wake was devastating enough. This time, however, was different. "Sorry, Mom, I have to go to the funeral. I promised Beth. She asked me to get up and speak." "Really?" "Yeah. When I was there on Saturday, she asked if I would." "You going to be able to get through it?" "I promised I would, so I will." We finished eating, and then there was a knock at the door. I went to answer it--and, before I knew it, I was being wrapped in a bear hug. Kara. "Oh, Eddie, I'm so sorry," she said, looking up at me. It was obvious she'd been crying. "I'm so glad to see you," I said, which was the truth. "How did you find out so soon?" "Kelly called me," she told me. "She said she thought you'd need a friend. So she called me. I called Mom and told her to come get me." Mrs. Pocharsky was with her, she'd come in behind her and was in the kitchen talking to my mother. "So, here I am. I'm not going back to school until after the funeral." "It's Saturday. The wake is tomorrow. God, Kara, I'm so glad you're here." "I'm glad I'm here, too." Mrs. Pocharsky left, saying she'd be back to pick Kara up in a few hours. Mom headed out, too, to go to Lydia's. We went into the living room and sat on the couch for a while, just holding one another. "I'm going to miss her. Not as much as you are, obviously, but I liked her a lot," Kara said. "Yeah." "Look, I hope it's all right that I'm here--you know, instead of Kelly. I tried to get her to come, but she just couldn't." "Don't be silly. Kara, I love you. I'll always love you. I'm very glad you're here. It helps a lot." And it was the truth. In fact, Kara was just about the only person in the world that could make me not miss Kelly. We cuddled and snuggled for a while. Kara just was intent on making me feel better. After a while, she said, "I've never seen your bedroom. You've seen mine, but I've never seen yours." So, I took her up to the third floor. Luckily, it was clean--well, clean for me, anyhow! We sat on my bed and talked for a little longer, listening to some Beatles. After a while, we started kissing. And I don't even know how it happened. Before I knew what had hit me, we were naked and fondling. Considering my conflicted attitudes towards sex lately, if it were anyone other than Kara, I would have stopped it. But I needed it. This night, I needed to feel something other than despair for a while. Considering the mess that some of my romantic relationships had deteriorated into, I might have been worried. But not with Kara. If there was anyone I trusted, and anyone I knew who would do this with me for all the right reasons, it was her. And she was hurting, too. Besides being upset about Beth, we'd both been dumped recently. And she trusted me as much as I trusted her. "Make love to me, Eddie," she said after we'd fondled for a while. "I need it, and so do you." She was right. I got a little surprise when I went looking for a rubber. "You don't need those anymore, not with me," she giggled. "It's real easy to go on the Pill up at Andrews--the school clinic prescribes them." That was a nice surprise--I hadn't been able to go helmetless since the first life. And it felt marvelous when I sank into her. Here I was, on the absolute worst day of my life, making love to my First True Love, and completely unexpectedly at that. It was, really, just what I needed. Hey, after Kelly, and Christine, and to some extent Belle, I'd worried about all the problems sex can cause. The confusion, the jealousy, the using nature of it sometimes. I'd worried about that. But, here, with Kara in my bed, thrusting back up at me, her arms and legs wrapped around me, I remembered something else. Sex, with someone you truly love, can be healing, too. After we both came, wrapped around each other, Kara cried. I might have too--though I was pretty cried out by then. I just put my arms around her and hung on for dear life. It was the one ray of light in a dark, dark day. Little did I know the day wasn't going to get any better. You see, I was emotionally exhausted after the day. Kara must have been, too--I mean, she heard about Beth's death, was upset, and moved heaven and earth to get home to be with me. She must've been as tired as I was. Plus, sex is tiring anyhow. Highly emotional sex--which this was--is more so. So, it's no big surprise that we fell asleep. We were woken by my mother standing at the doorway to my room, screaming. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. That's right--caught, red-handed. We were sleeping, but the residue of our lovemaking was obvious. We were still naked, wrapped around one another, and we'd fallen asleep without cleaning up. In other words, there was evidence--on my dick, on Kara's thighs. We couldn't hide it. What was worse was that my mother loudly told us that Kara's mom had been pounding on the door for ten minutes before she pulled up in the car. So, Mrs. Pocharsky was here, downstairs. And we'd better get dressed and get down there in a damn hurry. She stormed back down the stairs, and I looked at Kara and moaned. "Shit. We are well and truly fucked." "Yes, I was," she giggled. "And it was good, too." I had to laugh. "How can you be so calm? We just got caught!" "What the hell are they going to do to us? Forbid us to see one another? We don't see each other much anyhow. Is my mother going to ground me? I go to boarding school, for goodness' sake!" "I don't," I pointed out. "I might get grounded until I'm 18." We started pulling our clothes on. "Though I might be able to summon up an ally." "An ally?" "Dad. He knows. He's known for a while. He's far more liberal than Mom is." "My Dad will absolutely freak. I'm glad it's Mom, actually," she said. We got done dressing and went down to face the music. Mrs. Pocharsky started. "What ARE you two thinking?" "That he needed to be loved?" Kara said. Mrs. Pocharsky shook her head. "Look, I know Eddie is hurting, but that's no reason to surrender your virginity." "And what if you got her pregnant?" my Mom pitched in. "First of all, Mrs. Bovilas, I'm on the pill, so I won't be getting pregnant," Kara said. "THE PILL???" Mrs. Pocharsky yelped. "Yes. The Pill. And, second of all, Mom, that wasn't my virginity. I lost that in eighth grade. To Eddie, by the way, and it was his, too. This was not our first time together. And I have slept with others, at school." "EIGHTH GRADE???" Mrs. Pocharsky yelped again. "Kara, I thought I knew you better than that. Where did I go wrong?" "You didn't." she said. "And what about you?" Mom said to me. "I take it Kara was not your only, either?" "No," I admitted. "What has gotten into you?" she asked me. "Kara and I decided we wanted to be each other's first. We knew she was going away, so we rushed things a bit. We know that." "And I can't speak for Eddie, but I think he'll agree with me, that it gave me a taste of sex. And I like it," Kara admitted. "Good girls don't do that!" Mrs. Pocharsky said. "Who made those rules?" Kara asked. "Well, I'll say one thing for you, young lady. I don't know how you can live with yourself when you walk into Church on Sunday." "We had a talk about that once," I piped up, "a bunch of us. And to quote Bob Golan, if every Catholic who had premarital sex didn't go to church, there'd be a whole lot of empty pews." "I go to church because I believe in God," Kara said. "If that's not a good enough reason..." This went on for a while. Mom was screaming, Mrs. Pocharsky was screaming, Kara was trying to defend herself. Me? I just shut down. I ended up on a chair in the corner, my head in my hands. Nobody noticed. They were too busy yelling at Kara and me. In the middle of this, Dad walked in from work. He greeted Mom and said hello to Kara. Mom introduced him to Mrs. Pocharsky. "OK, so what the hell is all the yelling I heard when I walked in?" he said. "I caught your son and Kara in bed together." "Oh. Is that all?" he said. "IS THAT ALL?" Mom screamed. "You'd think the world came to an end," Dad chuckled. "Kara's not my daughter so I can't say a word about that. But I'm not going to get on Eddie for it, and neither should you." He turned to me. "Did you force her?" "NO WAY!" Kara piped up before I could say a word. God, I love that girl. Dad turned to her and chuckled, then turned back to me. "You protected her?" "Didn't have to this time, she's on the pill," I told him. "Good. So what's the problem?" Dad asked. "The problem is that they're too young, " Mrs. Pocharsky said. Dad turned to her. "Ma'am, like I said, Kara's your daughter. I can't say a word to that. For the record, though, I don't think Eddie's too young--and Kara strikes me as more mature than Eddie is." "You don't think Eddie's too young?" Mom said in disbelief. "No, I don't," Dad replied. I just couldn't take it. I just wanted it to all go away. Voices were starting to be raised again, and I just slumped into my seat. This time, Kara noticed. "Look," she said, interrupting the yelling adults, "is there any way we can have this conversation some other time? Stop yelling for a minute and look at Eddie. Look what this is doing to him. Hasn't he had a bad enough day?" "Bad enough day?" Dad asked. That's when I realized--he'd been gone all day. He didn't know. "Beth died today," I told him. His face immediately sunk. For a minute there I thought he was going to cry. I can't remember ever seeing him cry, in either life. That wasn't Dad's style. But he sunk into his reclining chair and looked miserable. "Damn. I knew it was coming, but damn." He looked up at Mom and said, pointedly, "Now that is a case of too young. As in, died too young. That's the only 'too young' that really matters." He looked at Kara. "So now I know why you're here and not at your boarding school. You found out and came down to comfort him." "Something like that," Kara said. "Actually, that's what it was. He needed a shoulder to cry on and I knew it. Hey, I liked Beth too and didn't really want to be up at school myself. But the sex just happened." "Kara, you're right," Mrs. Pocharsky finally said. "This isn't the day to discuss this. Eddie, I'm sorry." "Don't be. I realize why you and Mom are upset. I just can't deal with it." "OK." They left, Kara giving me a hell of a kiss before she left. We made plans for mom and I to pick her up for the wake tomorrow. I just crept back upstairs. I finally fell asleep, fitfully ------- NOVEMBER 2nd, 1979 I didn't go to school. I wasn't in any mood for it. I came downstairs and futzed around with a late breakfast. Mom wasn't working today. "How are you feeling?" she asked. "Numb," I answered truthfully. "Look," she started, "I'm sorry I came down so hard on you. Finding you and Kara like that just shocked me." "I know it did, but it's my life. Look, I'm a good kid. I don't go out drinking, I don't do drugs, I get excellent grades, I don't cause trouble. I like girls, though. I like sex with girls. I'm careful about it, and I don't force or coerce anyone." "I know all that. I take it Kara's not the only one." "No," I said, but wasn't going to say anymore. I'd confess about Kelly if she pressed, but I did not want her to know about Annabelle. She'd freak at that one. Luckily, she didn't press. "I know you're responsible for your age, Eddie. I do. I just worry." "I know. I'll be fine." She dropped the subject after that. Honestly, I wasn't surprised. Mom was reasonable. She'd had her moment of venting--and if it hadn't been that particular day I wouldn't have even minded. Then she thought about it and backed off. She trusted me, for the most part. I was actually more worried about Kara. She called right around noontime. "How are you?" she asked. "Hanging in there. How about you?" "Fine. She told Dad when we got home." "And he freaked." "Actually, not at all. It surprised me. He said to Mom, we trust her to go to boarding school. That means we trust her to make her own decisions. He was a bit alarmed that I'd started in eighth grade, but he was also rather pleased it was with you." "Really?" I laughed. "Yeah. 'Better Eddie than that Don Nixon character, at least my girl has taste.' he said. I cracked up. But he settled Mom down. How's yours?" "Better." "That's good." We discussed the arrangements for Mom and I picking her up for the wake. Later, the phone rang for Mom. When she got off of it, she came over to me, concerned. "That was Lydia. There's something I have to warn you about." She really didn't. It had happened the first time around. Hell, the warning had happened the first time around. Not that it helped, mind you. I knew what was going to happen. We went to the wake for the night-time viewing. We picked Kara up around seven. She held my hand the whole way to the funeral home, and held my hand as we walked in. I needed it. Even having seen it before, having been warned it was going to happen again, I knew that I was still going to feel like I'd been kicked in the balls. It was an open casket wake. I swear, she looked alive. She looked like, any minute, she was going to sit up, grin at me, and start teasing Kara and I. Except, she wasn't wearing normal clothes. She was wearing her best dress--a dress so nice she'd only worn it once in her life. To a semi-formal dance. That's what the warning was about; that they were going to bury her in That Dress. It didn't matter--the warning, I mean. I'd been warned, I lived through it once before, and seeing it still made me feel like every bit of air had been pushed out of my lungs. Kara caught it. She looked at me. I explained about the dress. She sighed and pulled her arm around mine tighter. This time around, there was even an addition. The pendant I'd given her for her birthday was still around her neck. I paid my respects, but didn't linger. I had to get out of there. Mom was still inside paying her respects, but Kara came out with me. That's when I truly lost it. Seeing her, dead, in that damn dress again--that's when I lost it. I sat on a patch of grass off to the side, at the back of the parking lot, and just cried uncontrollably, while Kara tried to calm me down. Outside, I was crying. Inside? I was screaming, cursing, berating whoever or whatever decided that it would be a fine idea for me to live through this nightmare a second time. Once wasn't fucking enough? Who the fuck decided this? However, having Kara next to me, holding me, rubbing my back--well, it produced another one of those moments of perfect clarity. This time was different. Last time, I'd been basically alone. After I pulled myself back together, and we went back out towards the front of the funeral home to wait for my mother, I realized truly how not alone I was. Stan came by. Danica. Even Bob Golan and Joe Vizcano. "Beth was good people. She'll be missed," Joe said. Yes, Kelly came. She even gave me a quick hug before she disappeared inside. Mom drove Kara home, then we went home. I went upstairs, just completely emotionally spent. Unfortunately, it wasn't over. ------- NOVEMBER 3rd, 1979 Getting into my suit that morning, I looked up into the sky. "Beth, if you're right and there is an afterlife, when I get up there, I'm going to get you for this." I didn't want to do this, at all. But I'd promised. Kara came with us again. We picked her up, and then my Grandmother. Dad made arrangements to stay home with my brother and sister. Kara sat in the back seat with me and held my hand the whole way to the church. She'd assigned herself a mission--get Eddie through this. One of these days I hoped I'd be able to tell her how grateful I was. We got to the church. I'm not a fan of churches, and I'm not big on public speaking either. But, like I said, I'd made a promise. I'd thought a lot about what I wanted to say. And I realized it might upset some people sitting there. But I had to say what I felt. Her oldest brother got up and spoke, and then her dad. Her mother was in no condition to do anything like that. When her dad got done, he said, "One of Beth's last wishes was for one more speaker. She asked her best friend, Ed Bovilas, to say a few words." I took a deep breath, squeezed Kara's hand, and walked up onto the altar. "I last saw Beth exactly one week ago," I started. "I went to the hospital. As some of you may know, she'd requested no visitors in the hospital. I went anyway. Beth was 9 months older than I am, and far more mature, so there was always a bit of big-sister in her relationship with me. And she would tell you that she wasn't surprised I showed up at the hospital, because that was our usual pattern: she told me what to do, and I ignored her." That got a little chuckle. "Of course, some things you can't ignore. I'm here because she asked me to, when I saw her last week. I cracked up laughing. I told her she was nuts. Because she knows me well enough to know what I might say. 'You're sure you want me to do this?' I asked her. She was sure. So, just remember--this is all her fault." I managed to grin as I said that, and saw quite a few little smiles on the faces of the people in the pews. "You see, I know how funerals go. We've all heard it already today. We've been told that God took her home and that she's in a better place. Well, I'm not sure I believe any of that. And that's probably not the thing to say in a Catholic church, but I have doubts. I certainly hope Beth's in a better place, and I can assure you that she believed, right until the last, that there was and she was headed there. Beth and I had quite a few long philosophical discussions, especially in the last couple of years while she was sick. And, as she once said, we never agreed on anything, but it was good to talk it out. "I know Beth took great comfort in her beliefs. There are many of you out there taking great comfort in the same beliefs. I can't do that. So, that's not what I'm going to talk to you about today. I'm not going to assure you she's in a better place, because I'm not sure about that. "What I am going to tell you, is that we are in a better place. Every single one of us in this church is in a better place than we would have been, because Beth Trovini was in our lives. "Beth spent fifteen and a half years with us. I knew her for all but nine months of that time. Some of you knew her her whole life, some of you a lot less. Every single one of us is lucky, for however long we had her. "There are some people out there, friends of mine, who met Beth through me. And many of them in the past couple of days have come up to me and thanked me for introducing them to her. That says nothing about me, I was just the friend-of-a-friend in the right place at the right time. But it says volumes about Beth. "My joking about ignoring her aside, the truth is I learned a lot from her. I learned a lot about love and compassion, about friendship, and about grace and courage and dignity. We talked about everything and anything. There are things about me that nobody on earth knew, except Beth. I would've trusted her with my life. And I learned a lot of that from her. "I will carry a piece of Beth around with me for the rest of my life. I know that much. I know that's not the type of afterlife she had in mind. Maybe she's right. But, whether or not she was right, she'll have an afterlife. Always. Right here," and I pointed at my chest. "In my heart, and in the heart of every person that was lucky enough to know her. "We're all faced with the reality of a life without Beth in it, and I know that prospect fills me with dread. But this is what I keep coming back to: the years I did have her in my life. I will cherish them always. Because she made me a better person, just for having been there for fifteen years. I think we can all say that. Mourning her death is inevitable, and understandable. But we need to remind ourselves to celebrate her life, too. Because, although it was far too short, it was a life worth celebrating. "I love you, Beffy. Forever and always." I kept my composure through the whole thing, and managed to not start crying until I got back to my seat. Beth would've been proud of me for that. ------- It actually went over well, better than I had expected. Even her parents pulled me aside. Her dad shook my hand and her mom hugged me. "I do believe she is in a better place," her Dad said, "but you said things that needed to be said. Especially the life worth celebrating part. She'd be glad you said that." That meant a lot to me. We went to the cemetary, but didn't go over the Trovini's house afterwards. I was too drained for that. Mom drove Gram home, then we all went back to our house, including Kara. Dad left to go do a job, and Mom took my brother and sister out shopping. "Three hours we'll be gone," she said to me pointedly. In other words, if you're going to do anything, get it done in three hours. That was pretty cool, considering how she'd initially reacted. We went upstairs, and put on some music. "If you're too drained, we don't have to do anything," she said. "I dunno," I said. "Thursday night just kind of happened. I'm just afraid of getting close to you again, and having you go back to Andrews and find a new guy there." "I've been thinking about that. I was thinking about it before Beth died, but her dying made me really think about it. Maybe we should give this a shot. Eddie, I still love you, with all my heart. We're a little older. Maybe we can make a long-distance relationship work. I'm not saying it'll be easy. But maybe we should give it a try." "I don't know if I could hold you to that." "You wouldn't have to. I would. Look, I know it's been a horrible and hectic weekend. Just think about it, OK?" "OK." We didn't end up making love, which was fine. We just cuddled and talked instead. The next day, she headed back to Andrews. Luckily, I'd see her again in a few weeks when she came home for Thanksgiving. ------- NOVEMBER 5th, 1979 A Monday, and I went back to school. More people that I had realized had gone to Beth's funeral, because I got a lot of comments on my eulogy. Like I said, it went over better than I thought it would. But it was school, and I had work to do. Life goes on. However, Beth's death had changed a few things. I went and sat down with Stan at lunch, and his buddies were there, including Rob. That didn't stop Danica from coming and sitting at the table, and she was even cordial to Rob. I brought Olivia to sit with us, because she needed something to hold on to. Kelly still didn't sit with us, but had smiled at me on the bus. The big surprise, though, at the lunch table was Michelle. "How you doing?" she asked me. "Decent. All things considered. Where's Mike?" "History," she snorted. "I dumped him yesterday. Did you notice I went to the wake and the funeral alone? He wouldn't even come to support me. That was the final straw. He's just become so insensitive. I couldn't take any more of it." "Ah. Well, I'm sorry, but I think you did the right thing." "I know I did," she said. "I have to admit, though, that when you guys came back to school from summer vacation, it seemed like you had gotten closer." "We had," she said. "But when we got to school..." She sighed. "He's a different person around his friends. I really thought I liked him a lot. But it was all an act. His real self came out around his friends." "That's too bad," I said. "Ah, well. Live and learn. Next time I'll know better. I'll spend time with a guy and his friends before I go out with him." I had to grin at that. "What?" she said. I just flicked my eyes towards the end of the table, where, a few seats down, sat Stan. "You hang out with all of his friends," I said. She got this huge smile. "I know. And he's great to hang out with when he's with his friends, isn't he?" "Yup," I agreed. ------- NOVEMBER 17th, 1979 Life goes on. I managed. Good things happened. The crew tightened up--the group of friends, I mean. Olivia was coming out of her funk somewhat. Stan and Michelle were talking again, at least. The rest of us started hanging around and eating lunch together. There were even a few additions--Stan had befriended this guy from West Cabot named Kenny Russell, and he was cool. Since he was from West JHS, I hadn't known him the first time around. I liked him a lot, he was funny and interesting. Of course, there were a few among the missing, too. Beth goes without saying. Kelly was the other one. She'd seemingly carved out a new group of friends in her desperation to avoid me. I didn't even see her on the bus anymore--she'd moved, a week ago, to West Cabot. It was a move long overdue--she'd been sharing a bedroom with both of her sisters, and that bedroom was too small for three people. Patrick had it worse--I'd been in his bedroom many times growing up, and it was a glorified closet. I'm not kidding. The bed fit, and that was about it. He even had to keep his dresser out in the hallway. That house on Williams Rd. just wasn't meant for a family of six. So, Mr. Cullinane had a new one built, finally. Bob Golan, who still hung with Patrick even though Patrick was at the Prep, told me that they were all thrilled. But now I really never saw Kelly. It bothered me. We should've at least been able to stay friends. I was tired of loss. No, this didn't compare to the loss of Beth, not by a long shot. But I was tired of people disappearing from my life. I had thought a lot about that, because now I had someone who had, in some ways, disappeared from my life--but now wanted back in. I truly loved Kara. Our breakup, even though it was for damn good reasons, and even though we remained good friends, was a type of loss. A very mild one, to be sure, but it was still a loss. Still, I had to think about her suggestion that we try again. Because long distance relationships were not easy, and I knew that from first-life experience. Then, there was Kelly. I'll admit it--I missed her. If I considered going back to Kara, would I be doing it just to make up for not having Kelly? I thought a lot about that. I came to the conclusion that, no, I wouldn't. As I said, I truly loved Kara. I loved Kelly, too. I'm not making comparisons. I loved them both--in slightly different ways, but I loved them both. And it wasn't as though I was being forced to make a choice, because Kelly had gone away from my life. Still, I knew it was weird. I was considering getting back together with my first girlfriend, who just so happened to be the best friend of my most recent ex-girlfriend. I'm not for a minute claiming this was normal! But I resolved that part of it in my mind. So, I just had to resolve the long-distance part. We'd not see each other a lot. That wasn't going to be easy. Of course, in some ways, it make things easier. I'd be able to concentrate on my studies. I'd be able to hang with my friends. A long-distance relationship is by definition less time-consuming. But it's also by definition less intimate, because of the time gaps. I thought a lot about it for a couple weeks. Then, I made my decision. I went to see Kara on this day, Saturday the seventeenth. Because she went to a private school, she had a fairly strange schedule. One of the quirks of her schedule was a full week off for Thanksgiving. So, she had actually come home late on the night of the sixteenth. On the seventeenth, I went to her house to see her. I got there about noon. She was very happy to see me. As an added bonus, her house was empty. "How did that happen?" I asked her. "Dad suddenly decided he wanted everyone to go out. Except me, of course, I was too tired after coming home from school," she said with a conspiratorial little grin. "They're gone for the whole afternoon. Dad's really being very cool about this. Much to my surprise." "Good." She walked into my arms and gave me a deep soul-kiss. "Oooh, I needed that," she said. "Yep, me too," I agreed. I took her hand and led her to the couch in her living room. "Let's talk." "OK," she said. "I want to give it a shot. Going out again, I mean. Let's see if we can make it work." "YES!" she hissed, and launched herself into my lap, kissing me all over my face. I had to laugh, which made her giggle right back. "I'm glad you're so happy about it," I told her. "I haven't met anyone like you," she said. "I keep trying, but I haven't met anyone that comes close." She looked at me, and said very softly, "I know you have. That's why I was worried you'd say no." "I'm not going to lie to you. I loved Kelly. But I always loved you, too. And Kelly's not here." "And if Kelly was here, I wouldn't have asked. But I really do miss you. I know it's going to be tough, but I want to try." "I do, too." "Good," she said, and stood up. "Let's go upstairs." "I think I can manage that," I said with a grin. When we made love a few weeks ago, the day of Beth's death, I think it was more of an emotional experience than a physical one. I think my body was almost on auto-pilot, if that makes any sense. So, there were a few things I hadn't realized--things I realized more today. Kara had changed--in bed, I mean. She'd always been enthusiastic, but now she was more demonstrative, more sure of what she liked. I'd guessed this was because, as she'd told me, she had to 'train' her two boyfriends after me! Me, she didn't have to train, and she knew it. I guess she was just used to it. Not that I was complaining, mind you. We got into some naked fondling, and Kara very sweetly asked, "Uhm, would you go down on me?" Like she had to ask! I just grinned at her, and started kissing my way down her lovely body. In fact, it was more lovely. Kara had filled out some. No big surprise, she was 15 now, almost 15 1/2. She was still slender, but had a bit more padding in all the fun areas. Believe me, complaining I was not. She noticed the same about me. As I kissed my way down her neck, heading for boobies, she ran her hand down my arm. "You're still working out, aren't you? Muscles," she giggled. "Yep," I told her, then went back to kissing. "I like it," she said, still running her hand up and down my bicep. "I like that, too," she laughed, when I latched my mouth around her nipple. I lingered there a bit, and then started moving my way down, heading for her pussy. Hey, she'd asked, right? Of course, I would've headed there anyway! As I said, she'd gotten more demonstrative. I went down on her and she started squealing and panting to beat the band. I slipped a finger into her pussy and she immediately started humping up and down on it. As I slipped my mouth over her clit, she hissed, "I forgot how good you were at this!" Which was nice to hear! After she came, I moved up on top of her and slipped inside her. Again, her demonstrativeness was pronounced. She immediately started bucking back up against me, complete with moaning and yelping. She came twice more before I did. It was great. Afterwards, cuddled up to me, she said, "Oh, man, did I miss this!" I could only agree. My first true love, back in my arms--it was wonderful. ------- NOVEMBER 19th, 1979 So, I was back in the world of romantic turmoil. Not that this was a bad thing, mind you, though how Kara and I handled the whole long-distance thing remained to be seen. As it turns out, I wasn't the only one. Stan introduced me to his new girlfriend, Christy, today. I was surprised. "What about Michelle?" I asked him as we sat waiting for our respective busses after school. Stan shrugged. "I'd already gone out with Christy once or twice before Michelle dumped Mike. Besides which, I really like her. I think she's more my speed than Michelle is." "Hey, as long as you're happy," I told him. I didn't know Christy well, but she seemed sweet and nice. And she plainly adored Stan, which was cool. Michelle actually took it well. "Hey, I went out with Mike, right? Maybe Stan and I just weren't meant to be. As long as we're friends, that's what matters." Olivia also seemed to have glommed on to some guy, another semi-reprobate like her last boyfriend. She'd been leaning on me pretty heavily in the few weeks since Beth's death, but now she seemed to be turning to this other guy for comfort. I worried about her, but I had enough going on, believe me. ------- DECEMBER 31st, 1979 This was actually the easy part of a long-distance relationship. Kara had been home for Thanksgiving, went back to school for a few weeks, then came back home for her three-week Christmas break. The separation then wasn't bad at all. It was spring semester, when I probably wouldn't see her from early January until early March, that was going to be the test. I'm a little kid when it comes to Christmas, so I enjoyed having a serious girlfriend at that time of the year. I took the money I'd been making with my dad and bought Kara a ton of stuff--a necklace, clothes, records, the whole bit. We got together on Christmas Eve, since we had to spend Christmas with our families. But Kara came over my house on Christmas Eve and we traded gifts then. She loved everything I had gotten her, and she got me some cool stuff, too. It was good to have her home. We got together again this night, New Year's Eve. We didn't go to a party, although there were a few. We just spent the evening at my house. My parents went out, and my brother and sister were over my grandmother's. Kara and I, of course, made love. Then we just hung around downstairs, watching TV, chatting, waiting to watch the big ball come down in Times Square. It did, we kissed, and then just sprawled out on the couch in each other's arms, until my parents got home about one in the morning. Dad drove Kara home. Lying in bed afterwards, I thought about a lot of things. The seventies were over. The eighties had just begun. Back in the old life, I'd considered myself a 'child of the eighties, ' but I realized now I was always mostly talking about music. Besides my sixties favorites like the Beatles and Beach Boys, artists that were identified with the eighties were what I listened to. Of course, a lot of them actually had already gotten started by the time 1980 rolled around--as the presence of the first couple of Elvis Costello albums already in my collection testified to. So, that part of it had already gotten started. A few other things that signified the eighties had gotten started, too. It took me a while to take note of them, because of Beth, and that had happened the first time, too. The Iranians took the hostages in the US Embassy a few days after Beth died. It took me a bit, I'll admit, to notice. This probably isn't very complimentary to me, but it took me even longer to really care. Moreso this time around, because I was more attuned to it. Of course, some other things just made me think of things to come. The USSR invading Afghanistan, for instance. We were all up in arms about that--President Carter was going to boycott the Moscow Olympics and so on. I felt like saying to everyone, "Just calm down. In ten years there won't be a USSR and this will all look like the dark ages." Of course, I couldn't! Of course, the hostages and the Russians-in-Afghanistan thing helped lead to another of the signature things of the eighties--the Reagan presidency. Look, I'm not going to apologize for it--I'm a liberal. I thought Reagan was a disaster. Knowing what was coming, I wasn't looking forward to it. That's when I thought about stopping it. Hey, I had foreknowledge, right? I could try to change things that I thought were bad, right? It only lasted a minute. First of all, how? Reagan was elected fair and square. The only way to prevent it was to change people's minds. How could one fifteen-year-old boy do that? Besides which, there were people who you'd never be able to persuade anyhow. But that wasn't the big thing in my mind. The big thing in my mind was playing God. Look, it was a tenet of Reagan's boosters that he somehow was responsible for 'winning' the Cold War; that it was because of him that the USSR imploded. Now, having been a student of the USSR in the old life, I didn't buy that for a minute. The USSR was broke and heading for ruin years before Reagan came along; and Gorbachev, for one, knew it. So, I didn't give Reagan much credit for the USSR's end. However, what if he were responsible at all? I considered the end of the USSR to be a very good thing. Bovilas is a Lithuanian surname, OK? There were relatives, second cousins and the like, that my family had lost touch with after World War Two. In other words, they'd been deported to Siberia, or worse, simply for the 'crime' of being Lithuanian. It wasn't uncommon. I might be a liberal, but I was no apologist for the murderous scum in Moscow. (The Russian 'communists' were nothing more than fascists with a sheen of ideology anyhow.) So, I was dearly glad to see the USSR vanish. That made me think. What if Reagan had anything to do with it? After Gorbachev assumed power, Reagan did handle the situation adroitly for the most part. So, did Reagan give Gorbachev the breathing space he needed? Possibly. That's what got me thinking about playing God. Because it got me worried. Look, in a very small sense, I'd already changed lives, purely because things that hadn't happened the first time around did this time around. How much had I changed Kara? Or--and this wasn't as good a thought--Kelly? Or, the opposite--the people from the Prep that I didn't meet this time around? This was all too much to contemplate at one thirty in the morning, let me tell you. However, that was me for you. I'd long been wont to mental flights of fancy at ungodly hours of the morning. I guess it had been triggered this time by knowing and realizing I was really going to have to relive The Eighties. The more I thought about it, the more I realized just how much of a watershed year 1979 had been. It was in the old life, because of Beth. It was this time around because of Beth and a whole lot more. I realized it had been in the 'wider world' as well. I'd been back for a little over two years. And I was starting to feel older. Look, I know I was technically an 'adult' memory-wise and had been since the send-back. However, I was still dealing with an adolescent brain. There had been research done right before I was sent back that talked about how adolescent brains weren't completely matured, and didn't get so until about twenty. So, chronologically I might be almost 45, but my brain wasn't quite 15. Moreover, I was dealing with an almost-fifteen body, as well, and all that implied. Plus, my life was that of an adolescent. Adolescents get preoccupied. And, since my return, I'd had a damn good reason to be preoccupied--Beth. Now Beth was gone. Maybe that's why this stuff started popping into my brain. Look, it wasn't quite the same, and I know it. I was more mature. The old me at this age could've never been able to handle a long-distance relationship. Honestly, I don't know if the old me at this age could've handled any kind of relationship at all, especially one with Kara. But, that's what I had been turned into in a lot of ways... a mature fourteen-year-old. Not an adult. I looked at someone like Kara. I wasn't much more mature than she was. Some other people, yes, but it still wasn't a wide gap. Still, I had all these memories. And those memories had become predictions. And I didn't know what to do with them. And the thought of playing God really did scare me. Look, a political election was minor, really. There was some shit that was about to come down the pike. Could I prevent it? How? Should I even try? I was growing up. Unfortunately, it was growing up for a second time, and I had knowledge I shouldn't have, and I didn't know what to do with it, and I was suddenly afraid it was going to drive me crazy. I couldn't let it. I knew that much. I still had to get through life. I needed to make something of myself first, or I'd end up in the same rut--and in that rut I wasn't any good to anyone. That was what was keeping me up until the wee hours of the morning as the seventies turned into the eighties. My life was an anamoly. And I didn't know how to fix it. I wished Beth were here. Not for the first time, and, I could guess, certainly not for the last. But there was no Beth. Just a confused man-boy, groping for answers. But there were no answers, either. No Beth, no answers, no help. It was 1980. And I wasn't looking forward to it. ------- Chapter 11 "GIVE ME THE BEAT, BOYS, AND FREE MY SOUL" JANUARY 5th, 1980 There were, of course, compensations. Kara being number one. We spent this day, a Saturday, together. She'd be going back to school on Sunday night. As I said, this was going to be the big test of the whole long-distance thing, as I wouldn't see her again until March, when she had a two-week break. We'd be apart two months. We were together today, though. We'd gone to the movies, then got something to eat at the mall. Then we headed to her house, which was empty. It was rather amazing how much leeway we'd been given by our parents. They all just seemed to have accepted the fact that we were having sex and figured, better in one of our houses than, say, Braddox Hill. In January. I couldn't argue with that! The sex was incredible, as always. The cuddling and chatting afterwards was just as incredible. Honestly, there were days I thought about telling her. I really did think if there was anyone on earth who could hear my story and not freak out, it would be Kara. But there was no guarantees of that, and I didn't know how it would affect us. And I didn't know if I wanted to drop all this crap on someone else's head. I'd told myself I would never tell anyone, that it was too dangerous. And I'd only broken that vow with someone who was on her deathbed. But it was a burden, knowing the future, it really was. But Kara was perceptive, and, as we snuggled up to one another, she couldn't help but notice that I was quiet. "Penny for your thoughts?" she said. "My thoughts are worth at least a nickle," I joked. "Uh-huh," she grinned. "Anyhow, you just seemed pretty pensive." "Well, I often am. Just kind of thinking. Of course, one thing I was thinking of was, I wonder how many other people in the general vicinity are getting laid right now?" She cracked up. "Oh, you just wait until you get to college. I'm not in college, of course, but I live in a dorm. My roommate and I were talking about that the Saturday before I left, wondering how many people in the dorm were getting laid right at that minute." "And bemoaning that neither of you were." "Of course," Kara agreed, grinning. "At least I knew I would be soon. Ellen has no boyfriend at the moment." She sighed. "And I'm going to be back waiting starting tomorrow. Two months. This is gonna suck." "I know, sweetie, but we can do this," I told her. "I know we can. Study, study, study, I suppose," she said with a wry little grin. "That's the ticket. Plus, the Winter Olympics are coming up. I love the Olympics so that will divert me." "Let me get this straight. The Olympics will divert you from thinking about sex and me?" "Well, no, not really, but it was worth a shot, wasn't it?" We both laughed at that. "It'll give me something to do, though." "You just better not get so involved in the Olympics that you forget to call me." "Never." ------- JANUARY 19th, 1980 Nine days after my fifteenth birthday. Yahoo. Two days before this, on Thursday the 17th, I'd been at lunch with the crowd. Michelle was sitting next to me. "You like Steve Martin?" she asked me, referring to the comedian. "Love him." "Have you seen The Jerk yet?" "Nope, not yet." Of course, that wasn't exactly true, though I hadn't seen it in this life. It had just been released in December. It was Steve Martin's first movie. "Darn. I was hoping you'd be able to tell me if it was any good." "It's Steve Martin, it's got to be good." "Yeah. I want to see it," she said. "So, let's go see it. Saturday." She blinked. "You and Kara didn't break up did you?" "No," I said, slightly confused. "So, you're just asking if I want to go see the movie as friends?" I laughed, getting it now. "Yeah, of course." "OK. Then, let's do it." "You wouldn't have gone if it were a date?" I teased. "I didn't say that," she teased back. "Though I would've been confused, because of Kara." "Nope, Kara and I are still together. I want you as a friend. And someone who will appreciate Steve Martin with me." "You can count on that!" We met at the mall for lunch before we headed over to the movie theater. "So, how is this whole long distance relationship thing?" she asked over our sandwiches. "It ain't easy, I'll tell you that. My phone bill is eating up my paycheck." "I'll bet. You can't get a break, more salary to pay for the phone, since you work for your dad?" "Not with my dad," I laughed. "Nah, that part's fine, we switch the calling. I do miss her though." "Does she know you're going to a movie with me?" "Of course," I said. "I told her Thursday night when we talked. She trusts me. Plus, she knows you're probably still hung up on Stan." "Oh, please, let's not go there. He's got Christy." "Hopefully, he'll wake up," I said. "Look, Christy's nice and sweet and all, but she drives me crazy. She's such an airhead." Michelle broke up. "Well, I wasn't gonna say it! But Stan seems to like her." "I think she's getting on his nerves a little." "I refuse to get my hopes up. Anyhow, what happened with you and Kelly? You never told me that." So, I told her. "Wow," she said. "Now I know why Kelly doesn't look so happy lately." "She made her own bed," I said. "I know, but still, I feel bad. Haven't you ever made a mistake?" "Plenty," I said, "but the mistake wasn't the problem. Breaking up with me was the problem. It made me ask if she ever really loved me." "She did. Trust me, Eddie, anyone that saw you two together saw that." "Then why did she not give it a shot to work itself out?" "I can't answer that one for you, Ed," she said. "Guilt? Shame? Lots of things." "I know. Well, it all worked out for me anyway. I've got Kara again." "True. And you've had a rough few months." She sighed. "I miss Beth. You must really miss her." "You bet. At least I've got friends to help me out." "You sure do," she said. "That's one thing I always liked about you two. You were so close, but it wasn't romantic." "Well, yeah, but she was so young when she was diagnosed. I'll never know what would have happened if she'd been healthy. I doubt we would've ever become romantic, but anything's possible. We truly did love one another, though it was more platonic." "I know. I still think it was cool." "Well, I will admit, I like the idea of having a close female friend that I'm not interested in that way. I think it's valuable." "Well, good, then I'll just have to be it," she laughed. "Yep!" I agreed. We finished our lunches and went to the movie. It was great. I hadn't seen it in quite a long time, so it was easier to pretend I was seeing it for the first time. I loved it, all over again, and Michelle loved it as well. ------- FEBRUARY 24th, 1980 As January turned into February, I found myself wondering about that question again--what I should do with some of my advance knowledge. Most specifically, I was wondering if I should be using it for financial gain. It was different than playing God. But it was cheating, and I knew it. What I'm talking about is betting. Wagering on sporting events. Because I knew there was a big one coming in February. Yes, I had some problems with the ethics of it. But, hell, not too many. Does that make me a hypocrite? Probably. Who'd lose? Other bettors? They were going to lose anyway. I wasn't forcing anyone else to lay down a bet. If they bet on the losing side, then they lost money, no matter what I did. So, who was going to lose, really? Bookies. Look, I grew up around bookies. My grandfather, before I was born, was a bookie. My Dad hung around with bookies, and even spent some time running numbers for one, when he wasn't able to work because of his injuries, during my 'first life.' So I knew bookies. And one thing I knew is that the game was rigged in their favor. I'm not talking about Vegas--legal gambling. I'm talking about illegal gambling, the bookie on the corner. The game's rigged in Vegas, too--but it's even more rigged on the street corner. These guys always make money, more than they pay out. It takes them getting completely blindsided to lose money, and it doesn't happen often. So, that's who my foreknowledge would lead me taking money from. I didn't have a problem with it. Rationalization? Oh, sure. But, fuck it. I didn't bet on every little thing that came down the pike. I couldn't--I didn't want Dad to get too suspicious of my 'premonitions'. Of course, he was going to be suspicious of this one in any case--but I didn't care. There was serious money to be made. The US Olympic Hockey Team was going off at 100-1. Heh heh heh. I grabbed Dad about a week before the games started and I told him I wanted him to make the bet for me. "Are you serious?" he said. "They're seeded seventh. They're a hundred to one, there's no way they're going to beat the Soviets!" "Trust me, Dad, I got a hunch," I told him. "Just place the bet for me." And I handed him two hundred bucks. That's when he realized I was serious. I usually gave him twenty or forty for a bet. Two hundred? He gasped. "You really are willing to risk this much money?" "Yep. I got a hunch, I told you." "Fine," he said--then he did what he often did. He put in his own money, more than I had, but said since I was the one doing the picking we'd split the winnings fifty-fifty. This time, he threw in seven hundred bucks. I went and got another hundred, to make it an even thousand. That third hundred would keep me out of candy for three weeks--and I'd probably be late giving Mom the money for all my long-distance phone calls to Kara--but I know I'd be making up for it. A hundred grand, split in half. Fifty grand for me. I couldn't wait! Dad came home from work and sat down to watch the games with me every night. The USA was in a preliminary group of six. The top two would advance to the final group of four. The two favored to advance from the USA's group were Sweden and Czeckoslovakia. Those were the two teams that the USA would play first. It happened like it did the first time. A last second goal gave them a 2-2 tie with Sweden. They got down 2-1 to Czeckoslovakia and then went on a rampage, winning 7-3. They beat Norway and Romania, two teams they definitely should have. The last first round game was against West Germany. They got behind 2-0, then came back for a 4-2 victory. It was heart-stopping, the whole thing. They kept coming from behind--the only game they scored first was the Romania game. I, of course, knew what was going to happen but I remember it being heart-stopping the first time around. And poor Dad kept going into apoplexy! Anyway, that got them into the final four, the medal round--and a date on Friday, Februarly 22nd, with the indomitable Soviet Union. I wasn't a USSR-hater, not when it came to hockey, except for one thing. I'll get back to that. But the reason I mostly didn't hate them was because I was a hockey fan, and they knew how to play the game. They played beautiful hockey. It was a pleasure to watch them. They truly were the best team in the world. Which is the reason I hated them--they shouldn't have been there. This was back in the days, remember, that the Olympics were for amateurs. And 'amateurism' in the USSR--the whole Soviet Bloc--was a sham. No, they didn't get money for playing their sport professionally. They got money from some government job. And the job was a fiction, while they trained. Vladislav Tretiak, the great USSR goaltender, was in the Army. Sure he was. And I'm Bobby Orr. The athletes from the west, on the other hand, either had to work a real job, go pro, or starve. So, in a sport like hockey, the USSR--a team of professionals by any other name--would be challenged by a bunch of college kids. In fact, back in those days, hockey players from the USA and Canada went to the Olympics hoping to be noticed by the NHL. That's what made the ensuing events so special to me. I've heard other things--that it 'gave the nation a boost' in the wake of Afghanistan, Iran, runaway inflation, etc. Not for me. I'm not a jingoist and, while I root for American teams in international sports, that's on the same level to me as rooting for the Red Sox. It's root, root, root for the home team. The USA hockey team was just a hockey team. It had nothing to do with global politics. That was crap parroted by the interlopers, the non-hockey people. I was not a non-hockey person. I was from Boston. Bobby Orr? I grew up watching Bobby Orr. Boston was a hockey town. So, I didn't see this as any kind of grand statement thing--that's not why it was special to me. I saw it for what it was. This was the equivalent of a high school team playing the Bruins, is what it was. And they won. I could almost remember it completely from the first time. The game was at 5 pm eastern time, but it was shown on tape delay at 8. By the time the broadcast was on, the game was over. But Dad diligently avoided any radio reports and I pretended to. (I had the first time around--I didn't want to know in advance.) The Soviets scored first, of course. The US tied it. The Soviets went back ahead, but Mark Johnson of the USA tied it in the last second of the first period. 2-2. In between periods, ABC showed the American skiier Phil Mahre winning a sliver medal in the slalom. I remembered that from the first time. That was somewhat of a surprise, and the great Olympic host Jim McKay, knowing about Mahre and knowing the final outcome of the hockey game, could barely keep it all in! The Soviet coach must have seen something, because he pulled Tretiak--probably the best goalie in the world--and replaced him with Vladimir Myshkin for the second period. It seemed to have worked. Myshkin shut out the USA in the second period and the Soviets got a goal to go up 3-2. Something happened in the locker room, though. Somehow, only being down one goal after two periods to the mighty Soviets gave the Americans confidence. They came out flying. Mark Johnson tied the game at 3, 8 minutes into the period. Then, a minute and a half later, the goal every American alive in 1980 remembers. Mike Eruzione. 30 feet out. Slapshot. 4-3, USA. It was great. Eruzione was the team captain, and he was one of ours. I don't just mean American--he was from Winthrop, a suburb of Boston, only about 15 miles from Cabot. Boy from down the street beats the Russians. How cool is that? As the American team wildly celebrated Eruzione's goal, Dad turned to me with a wry grin on his face. With 700 bucks on the line and no stranger to irony, Dad said, "Tretiak would've had that one." Indeed. The Soviets had ten minutes left, and they spent the whole ten minutes throwing everything including the kitchen sink at Jim Craig, the American goalie (and another Boston guy). Craig stopped everything, even the kitchen sink. And then, as the clock ticked down, the great announcer Al Michaels delivered his most famous line: "Do you believe in miracles? YES!!!" Dad stared at the screen for a minute, then turned to me and said, "You are psychic!" "Not yet. One more to go," I reminded him. That one more was today, Sunday the 24th, against Finland. Even with the stunning victory over the Soviets, the Americans still had to beat Finland to win the gold medal. As usual, Finland scored first. In fact, they were up 2-1 after two periods. Poor Dad was having apoplexy. Not to worry. The Comeback Kid Americans scored three goals in the third period. They weren't going to beat the Soviets and lose to Finland. No way. 4-2, USA, gold medal. And fifty thousand freakin' dollars for the time traveler! ------- MARCH 3rd, 1980 I'd been feeling more and more disconnected. It started when Beth died. It got worse in January when Kara went back to school. I still had friends in school, but I needed more. It seemed like everything I really cared about was either gone permanently--Beth--or temporarily, like Kara. The only thing I had to hold on to was my schoolwork. While that was damn necessary, and I knew it, it wasn't life-affirming or satisfying or anything like that. It was merely a means to an end. I needed something besides schoolwork and working out, which I still did, to put my energies into. I needed a distraction. Michelle, bless her, came up with one. We were at lunch on this day and were discussing guitar and bass parts, as we often did--me, Michelle, and Stan. That's when Michelle had the brainstorm, and I don't know why I hadn't thought of it. "You know what we need to do?" she said. "We need to form a band. The three of us, and then we'll get some other people." "You think?" Stan said. "Definitely," Michelle replied. "You, Stan, can play lead guitar. Eddie can play rhythm and I'll play bass. Eddie can sing, and so can I." "And I've gotten better," Stan said with a grin. "I don't think you'd want me to sing lead, but I'm a baritone and can do low harmony." "There you go," Michelle agreed. "I'm in," I agreed. "Definitely. Sounds like fun." Stan's friend Kenny Russell, who had been listening, spoke up then. "You guys want a keyboard player? I'm pretty good." "Really?" Stan said. "I didn't know that. I think we definintely want a keyboard player." "Maybe two," I added. "I wouldn't mind having a sax player, either. And, of course, a drummer." "Well, let's get the word out, then!" Michelle said. We all agreed enthusiastically. ------- MARCH 8th, 1980 The night before, Friday the 7th, Kara came home. She had an extended two-week Spring Break. On this day, Saturday the 8th, my mother cleared the house out for the afternoon. She had stuff to do and took my brother and sister. Dad was working. Kara came over shortly before noon and leapt right into my arms at the front door. "Oh, God, I missed you!" she said before kissing the daylights out of me. This was the thing about long distance relationships. The separations were murder, but the reunions? Just fantastic. I made lunch for both of us, and then we ended up on the couch in the living room, just cuddling and talking. We had talked often on the phone, but it was much better in person. I told her about the band idea. "That's fantastic!" she said. "You'll be great. Ed Bovilas, rock star. I can see it." "Yeah, right," I laughed. "That's a stretch." "As long as you have fun. How are you doing besides that?" "OK," I said. "Grades are great." "That's good. How's the friends?" "Good, mostly. Stan, Michelle, those guys are all good. Olivia's worrying me, though. She's already on her second boyfriend since Beth died. She doesn't look good and both of these guys were scum. I worry about her, and she doesn't really seem to want to talk to me." "She's not your responsibility," Kara pointed out. "I told Beth I'd keep an eye on her," I said quietly. "I know you did, but you can't help a person who doesn't want to be helped." "I know," I sighed. "Believe me, I'm having the same problem. And I have to do it long distance." Hmmm. That meant it wasn't someone at school with her. "Who?" "I don't know if I should tell you," she sighed. Then, very quietly, she said, "Kelly." "I have no idea what's up with her, she refuses to even talk to me." "She won't talk to me much either. I get updates from Danica. I've tried to talk to Kelly but she's not very receptive. And you trying to talk to her would be completely unproductive--she hates your guts." "WHAT?" I said. "Jesus Christ, how did I get to be an asshole?" "I don't know. You're the fault her life's miserable. Better to blame you than herself, I guess." "Jesus," I muttered, shaking my head. "She's completely messed up. Anyhow, enough about Kelly. How about you kissing me instead of talking?" she said with a grin. "I can do that," I grinned back. And that's just what I did. We ended up in a full-blown makeout session on the couch. When I reached for the buttons on her blouse, she said, "Shouldn't we go upstairs?" "Why bother? They won't be home for hours," I said. "We can fool around right here." "Oooh, how daring," she laughed. "That's me, Mister Daring," I joked. By then, I had her shirt off and was working on the bra. That quickly came off and I latched my lips onto her nipple. She moaned deeply and ran her hands through my hair. While I worked over her boobs, my hands were working on the button of her jeans. Once I had the button undone, I tugged on the waistband. Kara lifted up off the couch and they were quickly off. Well, what do you think I did? It was actually an interesting angle, with her sitting on the couch. I got on my hands and knees and buried my face right into her pussy. She leaned against the back of the couch, outstretching her arms and grabbing the back of the couch with her hands while I licked at her pussy. While I was doing this, it occured to me that this might be a fun position for fucking. So, after Kara came--with a nice groan--I straightened up. I quickly yanked my pants off and got back into a kneeling position between Kara's legs. Before she even knew what was happening, I was entering her. It was actually a fun position, kneeling on the floor in front of her as she sat on the couch. For one thing, I didn't have to hold myself up with my hands so I could use them to roam all over her body. The other thing is that it put us directly face to face. She wrapped her arms around my shoulders and held on as I moved into her. I leaned in and kissed her, my tongue plunging into her mouth as my dick moved in and out of her pussy. It didn't take long before she was crying out into my mouth and stiffening on the couch. I came shortly afterwards. Cuddling afterwards, she said, "I think I like this couch thing!" ------- MARCH 15th, 1980 Kara was still home, but she spent the day with her family, we'd be getting together later. Her family insisted on some attention while she was home, reasonably--and I had another engagement. We'd gathered in Stan's garage. His parents were very supportive of the whole band thing, and he had a large garage that wasn't ever used for much. So, it became a handy place for band practice. On this day, it was for auditions. We found a drummer very quickly. A guy named Dave Peterson, who I hadn't known in the first life. He was funny, seemed real easy to get along with, and was a fine drummer. We listened to a couple of other guys, but Dave was all of our first choice. We also found a girl who could play second keyboards or saxophone. She could also play percussion if we didn't need keys or sax. Her name was Karen Goldberg, and she was another one from West Cabot that I hadn't known in the first life. She was pretty, quiet, and could play. We figured that would complete the band, but we had one other person to audition, another sax player. We were pretty agreed on Karen, but it didn't hurt to see everyone that wanted to audition. So, we waited for the last person. And I think we all gasped when she walked in. Debbie Romelski was, I think, the last person any of us expected to see trying out for the band. I hadn't known Debbie either in the first life, but I knew who she was in this one. Everyone at Cabot High did. You see, Debbie was the girl at Cabot High with the 'reputation'. You know what I mean. There were enough "Debbie Does Cabot" jokes around to stock a jokebook. We all looked at each other, and at her. "Well," she snorted, "do you want to hear me play, or what?" She'd brought both tenor and baritone saxophones, and, it looked like, a guitar. We got over our surprise and told her to play. And we got surprised all over again. She could play. She blew Karen away on tenor sax, was just as good at baritone. And she whipped out her guitar, plugged in, and blew us away again. She was a better guitarist than I was and almost as good as Stan. She kicked ass on every percussion instrument we gave her--she could even play drums in a pinch. As an added bonus, she was a fine singer, especially in harmonies--and she was a soprano, which we didn't have, Michelle being an alto. After she left, we found ourselves in a discussion. We still wanted Karen--Debbie couldn't play keyboards and we figured we needed the second keyboardist. Did we want Debbie, too? She was the best sax player we'd heard and a third guitarist was a luxury but a nice one to have. The questions were, did we want seven people in the band, and a situation where Karen and Debbie both might have songs where they didn't have much to do? The other question was, as Stan inelegantly put it, "Do we want the school slut in the band?" "I don't know if that's at all relevant," I told him. "At least it isn't to me." "Not to me, either, really," Stan agreed. "However, she's got a rep, we can't deny it. I don't know if it's true or not, but it's out there. Will that affect the band? More to the point, I'm thinking about Michelle and Karen. Will having someone with that rep in the band affect the other two girls in the band?" "It doesn't matter to me at all," Michelle interjected. "Look, if anyone thinks anything about me because of mere rumors about somebody else that happens to be in the same band as me--well, they can stick it. That's ridiculous." "OK. It's fine with me, then," Stan said, "as long as Karen agrees." We talked to Karen and she said the same thing that Michelle had said. So, we told Debbie she was in. She seemed really happy about it. So, now we had a band. I was really looking forward to it. ------- MARCH 29th, 1980 Kara had gone back to school the previous Sunday, which was depressing. The band hadn't started going yet. I was back to concentrating on just schoolwork. So, this day, a Saturday, I ended up hanging out up the street at the Neelands' house. We played some hoops, then ended up inside around the kitchen table. I remembered a whole lot of my adolescence the first time being spend around that kitchen table, or the picnic table in the backyard. If there was a party, that's where it was. I missed these people in the first life. You know how it is, you can lose touch with childhood friends. I'd see the Neeland trio in late 2004, but it was at a horrible occasion--Mrs. Neeland's wake. She'd died of cancer, and she was only 58. Mrs. Neeland was like my second mother growing up. Mrs. Neeland was a smoker. The thing is, I couldn't even bug her about that--she didn't die of lung cancer or anything like that; she died of myeloma, which is a cancer of the blood. It was like Beth--you couldn't do anything to prevent leukemia, either, since leukemia was also a cancer of the blood. My friends seem to have bad luck with blood. Anyway, knowing this, I decided to take advantage of the time I'd have with her. On this day, we ended up around the kitchen table, drinking cokes and eating cookies. She'd baked. That was just like her. "So, Ed, Dee's been trying to tell me about your love life, but I don't think I can keep up," Mrs. Neeland said with a laugh. I cracked up. "Well, you knew about Kelly." "But she broke up with you." "Right. So I got back together with Kara." "Who goes to school an hour away," Dee said with a snort. "Hey, where's your boyfriend?" I teased. "Anyhow, we'll have to see what happens. I'm not going to lie, long-distance relationships suck. But Kara and I really do love one another." "How did you guys get back together?" Mrs. Neeland asked. "She came home and was there for me after Beth died," I said softly. "Ah," she said. "How are you doing with that?" Dee asked. "How does anyone do with something like that?" I asked. "OK, all things considering." I changed the subject. "Did I tell you guys that we formed a band?" "Really?" Mrs. Neeland asked. "Yeah, me and my friends Michelle and Stan. We found some other people, so now we're going to start practicing." "You need the practice," Lynne, the younger Neeland sister, butt in. "Ah, whadda you know? You've never heard me play." "I've heard you sing." "Yeah, and I'm good," I teased. "Michelle and I are going to split the singing," I told the rest of them, "and Michelle is terrific." "She'll have to be," Lynne kept it up. "Ah, shaddap." "Now, now, kids," Mrs. Neeland said with a grin. "How's school, Ed?" "Fine," I said. "I can't believe you didn't go to the Prep," George said with a snort. "Ah, well," I said. "I'm gonna go to the Prep," he asserted. He probably would--he did in the first life. "Well, George, two things. First of all, you're an aspiring athlete. If you keep it up, you might be able to play baseball and basketball in high school, and the Prep's a great place for sports. However, I have to tell you, when you discover girls--you might change your mind." Lynne and Dee both giggled at that. "Ah, girls are stupid," George asserted. Lynne and Dee laughed harder. "You're what, almost nine? You'll change your mind," I told him. "Nah," he insisted. Yeah, right! "Is that why you didn't go to the Prep? Girls?" Dee asked. "And here you are dating some girl that goes to a private schoo!" "Well, true," I admitted, "but it wasn't just dating. I'm just not crazy about an all-male atmosphere. I mean, think about it--Michelle's one of my dearest friends. It doesn't matter that we're not dating and never will. It's just a better atmosphere with her around, and other girls. I mean, look at us. The neighborhood group. It's much better that it's co-ed." "True," Dee admitted. "Plus, there's no guarantee that Kara and I will continue." "Trouble in paradise?" Dee grinned. "The distance is a problem, I won't deny it." "Ah." "We'll see what happens." ------- APRIL 13th, 1980 It was our first band practice. We gathered in Stan's garage and set up. After staring at one another for a couple minutes, Stan said, "Well, what do we know?" Mumbling followed. "Does everyone know Day Tripper?" Stan followed. "You know I do," I laughed. Michelle nodded, as did Debbie. "You want me to play the riff or the rhythm?" Debbie asked. Stan looked at me and I nodded. "The rhythm. Stan and I can double the riff. Hey, it's one of the few riffs I can play." Everyone laughed at that, then Stan counted us in and he and I hit the riff. Michelle came in with the riff on bass in the second pass, then Debbie hit the rhythm. Karen shook a tambourine, Dave hit the drum fill, and off we went. I sang it, and Stan took the low harmony. Michelle went up top on the choruses. It sounded great. I mean, for a first song by a new band of teenagers, it sounded downright dynamite. One thing was apparent from the get-go: our rhythm section of Michelle and Dave was as solid as a rock, and that was a very valuable thing for a band to have. I knew Stan could play, I'd played with him. We knew from the first song: this was gonna fly. No doubt about it. We ended that song with wide grins. "The only problem was Kenny didn't have anything to do on that one," Stan said with a laugh. "That's OK, we can fix that," Kenny said. "I know at least half this band is Springsteen fans. How about this one?" And he hit the opening piano notes to Prove It All Night. Stan, Michelle and I smiled at one another, and picked it up on the third measure of the intro. Dave hit his cymbals at the appropriate place, and then we were into the song proper. Karen only knew it part-way, so the organ part was a bit lacking. But the rest of us knew it cold, and Stan was yelling out the chord changes to Karen, who picked up on it. There were a few organ flourishes she'd have to learn, but that wouldn't be hard. Michelle picked up on Little Steven's vocal harmony part--sound appropriately gritty, which surprised me--and I sang the lead, Springsteen being someone I could always sing, in either life. As we pounded through the verses, I noticed Debbie putting down her guitar and reaching for her tenor sax. I was wondering if she knew the song--specifically, the sax solo. I didn't have to wonder. She nailed the thing. I mean, note-perfect. Clarence "Big Man" Clemons couldn't have done better. Stan followed that with a nice screaming guitar solo, then we hit the third verse and on to the end. When we were done, we couldn't stop grinning. "Wow," Michelle finally said. "You're telling me. Ten minutes, two songs," Dave laughed. "Now we only need another fifty or so for a set list," Debbie said with a giggle. "Don't burst our bubble," I teased. "Yeah, before we learn the other fifty, I have to learn that one," Karen pointed out. "I know it a little, I mean I've heard it and all, but I've never been much of a Springsteen fan." "We'll have to change that, considering Springsteen has lots of juicy organ parts," I told her. "Yep. This one's not too tough, either," Kenny said. He walked over to where Karen had her stuff set up, and sat down at her organ. "Eddie? Give me some rhythm. It's just little fills," he told Karen. He looked at me and said, "From the top of the verse. One-two-three..." I played the chords and he did the little organ bits. Karen immediately picked up on it. After a run-through, Karen sat behind the organ and did some of the fills. "Let's try it again," Stan suggested. We all agreed, and blasted through it. And I heard the organ, loud and clear, sounding damn good. Karen was a quick study--that was good. We spent all afternoon in that garage, trying stuff. Some we knew, some we didn't, and the day ended with lots of promises of tape-swapping. But we had a blast. As I was leaving, Debbie sidled up to me. "Eddie? I just want to thank you guys. You know, for taking a chance on me." "Wasn't much of a chance," I said, though I knew what she was talking about. "You blew us all away at the audition." "Thanks," she said with a grin, "but, well, you know what I'm talking about. I know what my reputation is." "Ah, who cares? Besides which, there are worse things." "Worse than being the school slut?" she said disgustedly. "Sure. Try being the school nerd," I said, laughing. "You are not." "Yes, actually, I am." "No, you're not," she insisted. We got in front of Stan's house, and I sat on the wall at the front of his yard. I motioned for her to sit next to me. We were both waiting for our rides. "Debbie. You do know I'm ranked second in the class, right?" "No way." "Yep. Michelle's fourth, by the way. You joined the nerd band," I teased. "Nah. Michelle's too pretty to be a nerd, even if she is smart. And somebody told me that you have a girlfriend who's a knockout." "Kara's pretty, sure, but you know where she goes to school? Andrews Academy. Hell, you have to be a nerd just to get into that place!" Debbie just shook her head, bemused. "All right, all right, so you're a nerd." "Thank you," I grinned. Her voiced dropped. "At least you can live with what you are. Eddie, you see, I am a slut. That's the problem." I looked at her. "Can I ask you a couple personal questions?" "Why?" "Curiosity. Plus... well, let me ask you. You'll understand afterwards. I promise, this is not stuff I'm asking to use against you or anything. Promise." She nodded her head. "When did you lose your virginity?" "About a year and a half ago. Beginning of ninth grade." "So, you were how old?" "Fourteen. My birthday is in July, so I was a few months past fourteen." "And how many guys have you slept with?" She looked down. "Five." "All right," I said. "I do not talk about this, because I don't think that's right, but I think you need to hear it. First of all, as for numbers, you only have me beat by one. I've been to bed with four girls. I will not tell you who, except I'm sure that you can figure out that my current girlfriend, Kara, is one of them. I won't say who the other three are. But there's been four." Her eyes bugged out of her head. "Furthermore, in terms of time, I beat you by a few months. It was May of eighth grade for me. Oh, and I started school a year early, and my birthday's in January. You'll be sixteen in July?" She nodded. "I won't be sixteen until next January. So, I was only 13 my first time." "But that's different. You're a guy," she said. "That's the way it works. You're a hero, I'm a slut." "True. But that's society talking. That shouldn't be your problem." "But it is, you know?" "Of course I know. Look, I wised up a bit starting in eighth grade, but before that? I really was the school nerd, and I got the beatings to prove it. I changed a few of the outer things about me, so I get hassled a bit less. But I'm still a nerd. If other people have a problem with that, that's their problem. "So. You and I have rather similar sex lives. It's other people that would brand you a slut and me a stud, or whatever. I, personally, don't see any difference. Unless you're going to bed with people for the wrong reasons, but that's another issue entirely." "Two. I had two one-night stands in there that I'm not proud of," she admitted. "And, wouldn't you know, that's the two who started the talk. The other three were boyfriends, though one of them talked too." She looked at me. "You don't talk?" "Nope. It became common knowledge that I slept with Kara, but that's because Kara told. I mean, she told everyone--at a party we were all at. I was being Mister Discreet, and she blabbed. I think I turned twelve shades of red. I'd told exactly one person that I knew was completely trustworthy." "Ah. Someone who you told everything to." "Right." She sighed. "Must be nice to have someone like that." "It was." Debbie picked right up on that. "Was?" "She died in November." "That girl that went to school with us?" "That's her. Beth Trovini. She was my best friend." "Man, that sucks," Debbie said. "That young. Makes me think maybe I really don't have any problems." "Everyone has problems," I replied. "Even Beth would've said that. She was always willing to listen to mine, even after she got sick." "She had cancer or something, right?" "Leukemia. And she had it for two and a half years before she died, and she knew she was dying. And she would still listen to my blathering." "You miss her a lot." It wasn't a question, but I said, "Yeah. I sure do." She looked down, and then said, softly, "You can tell me shit, if you need to. I'm a good listener. And I know enough not to blab, believe me." "I do believe you," I said, smiling. "And I just might. Thanks. And same goes." She smiled, and then said, "There is one thing I've got to ask you." "Shoot." "How does a guy who calls himself a nerd nail four different girls?" I cracked up laughing, then recycled a riff from Revenge of the Nerds--which hadn't been released yet! "You see, Debbie, we nerds don't concern ourselved with all that macho bullshit like sports and cars and stuff. So we have more time to think about girls. And since we're all smart, we know the anatomy better. So..." She just looked at me before she burst out laughing. "So, you're trying to tell me you're good?" "I'm very good." "Hmmm," she said, looking at me. "Well, hmmm." "I'm also very taken." "Yeah, the good ones always are," she said, chuckling. "See, I think that might be the difference. I'll bet all four of yours have been girlfriends. No one-night stands for you, right?" "One." "Really?" "Yeah. Oh, it gets better. She's from California. And she's my second cousin." "No way!" "Yeah." "How'd that happen?" "Since she's in Cali, you'll never meet her so I'll tell you," I said. "First I have to explain the Kara thing. We've actually gone out two separate times." I explained that. "OK," she said after I'd gone through the Kara bit. "I first met Annabelle that first summer, after eighth grade, that I was going out with Kara. I think Belle liked me right away, and I would've liked her too--but I don't cheat." "Good boy," she smiled. "Thank you. Anyhow, Belle met Kara. And Kara didn't actually tell Belle we were sleeping together, but she hinted. And she hinted in a very self-satisfied way." "Uh-huh." "Well, she did. Anyhow, Belle went back to Cali. Kara and I broke up, I had two other girlfriends during ninth grade, but was single in August when Belle came back for a return trip. And Belle told me she'd lost her virginity to her boyfriend over the past year, but it wasn't anything special." "Oh, I get it--since Kara had been doing the wink-wink nudge-nudge smirk, Belle figured you'd be something special." "Exactly." "So, were you?" "Of course." She reached over and playfully punched me on the shoulder. "You really got to do something about that ego problem." "Hey, when you're good, you're good." "Uh-huh." "No, really. You see, I appreciate it more." "What do you mean?" "Like I told you, I'm a nerd. I never thought I'd get girls. Furthermore, I mooned over Kara for two years and couldn't get her to give me the time of day." "What happened?" "I realized I was being an idiot, so I stopped." Which was true, though it took me thirty years! "Started talking to Kara like a human being and not a lovesick idiot. And when I asked her out and she said yes, I was cool and calm and collected about it. It was all an act, mind you, but it worked." "That's good," she laughed, "but why would that have anything to do with how good you think you are?" "Let me put it this way--you've been with five guys. Any difference? I mean, did some 'get you there' better than others?" "Oh, yeah. My second boyfriend. I still wish he hadn't broken up with me. He was fantastic, and he wasn't one of the ones that talked either. A couple others were ok, a couple others were a disaster." "What's the difference?" "Well, he--the good one--took his time. He was slow and worked me up, you know? Plus... man, it's not easy to talk to a guy about this stuff!" "Sure it is," I told her. "Remember one thing, Debbie--I am not judging you, and I never will, not about that." "Thanks. Anyhow, he was slow and took his time. Plus, he was the only one that was interested in other things. You know, besides just sticking it in." "Ah. Fingers or tongue?" She looked at me, completely startled. Then, grinning and blushing, she said, "Tongue. Only one that ever did that." "That'd be my specialty," I told her. She grinned at me, and said, "OK, I get it now. By the way, if you and Kara ever break up..." "You'll be the first to know!" She sat for a moment, and then said, "In all seriousness, and all sex aside--I think I'm going to like you, Ed Bovilas." "Same goes." "It really doesn't matter to you, does it?" "It really doesn't matter to me." "Thanks." ------- APRIL 21st, 1980 This was the first Sunday of April Vacation. And I'd gone away for the weekend. To Andrews Academy. Kara wasn't off this week, she'd had her break in March. So, she came up with a brilliant idea--for me to come up for the weekend. I got driven up late Friday afternoon, and Mom came and picked me up Sunday afternoon. Of course, I wouldn't be able to stay with Kara--this was high school, after all. But she had a couple of male friends who let me throw a sleeping bag on their floor. Kara knew me well, and set me up with a couple of guys she knew I'd get along with. And I did, they were cool. I also liked Kara's roommate, Ellen, quite a bit. So, Ellen--and Mike and Patrick, the two guys I stayed with--I instantly liked. It was a whole hell of a lot of the rest of Kara's friends that I wasn't too taken with. Look, I wasn't shocked. This was Andrews Academy. Let's face it, there are three types of people at a place like Andrews. The first were people like Kara and Ellen and the two guys I stayed with--good students. Smart, hard-working kids that went to Andrews for the education. But Andrews wasn't just a good school, it was an expensive good school, one with a long history. That meant money, and legacies, and 'connections' and whatnot. And all that meant snobs. God, there were snobs there. One girl named Catherine, whom Kara introduced me to that Friday night--well, I swear that Catherine was completely convinced her shit didn't stink. It was ridiculous. The third type at a place like Andrews? Same circumstances as the snobs--money, family connections, etc.--but instead of being snobs, they were the drunken rich backslapping frat-boy party dudes. This was another species I wasn't too fond of. Kara had a few friends that fit that bill, too. It reminded me of the two presidential elections that had happened before I got 'sent back', the two that elected George W. Bush. Now, I'm not commenting at all on politics here, though I think I've made it clear where my politics lie. No, I'm talking about the oft-stated opinion in those elections that Bush was the candidate that voters 'felt more comfortable with' and 'would most want to have a beer with'. Personalities, in other words, not ideology. I'm sure that was true for lots of people--but not for me. I mean, look at it from my point of view. This is especially true in his second race with John Kerry. I mean, really. Bush was a little rich boy who was a mediocre student, was by all accounts an obnoxious drunk before he became an obnoxious Christian, and was the typical party frat-boy. Kerry was a wonkish nerd who played guitar and loved Springsteen. Who would I rather have a beer with? No freakin' contest. I mean, in high school, George Bush was a freakin' cheerleader. John Kerry played bass guitar in a band. No contest. There were a lot of George W. Bush clones at Andrews Academy. The existance of the snobs and the fratboys didn't bother me--I expected it. What bothered me, a little bit, was how Kara seemed to gravitate towards some of these people. Not completely, she still seemed closer to Ellen and people like that. And she did defend me. But she also seemed to cultivate people like Catherine; and Jake, the Fratboy Supreme. As I said, she did defend me, because Catherine went after me. "So, you go to public school?" she said in a complete tone of scorn. "Yeah, by choice. I got into a Catholic prep school near us. I decided I didn't want to go there." "Well, a Catholic prep school isn't much better than a public school," she said, still dripping scorn. "I mean, it's not like you'd go to a real school either way. Some people just can't get in to places like this." "Oh, I could've gotten into here." "Really." "Oh, yeah, definitely," Kara butt in, defending me. "We went to identical schools from kindergarted on, he was ranked higher than me in the class in eighth grade and he got a higher score on the SSAT than me, and I'm here. Eddie would've breezed right in." "Then why didn't you?" "I had no desire to go to a boarding school." "Oh, needed to be near Mommy?" she sneered. "Him? Not hardly," Kara laughed. That got the little twit off my back for the time being. It wasn't bad, really. I really did like her closest friends, and the weekend went mostly fine. But there was a bit of ominous forboding. Nothing major, really, but my relationship with Kara was already less than perfect, due to the distance. She called me Sunday night after I got home and asked me about it. "You didn't like my friends, did you?" she asked. "Only a couple of them. Ellen's a peach, and the two you set me up to stay with were great." There were a few other nice ones too. As we talked, I realized a fundamental difference between Kara and I. It was subtle, but it was there. To a degree, I wanted to be accepted--but it was more that I wanted to be left alone to lead my life. I wanted friends, yes. I wanted people that liked me. And if the band got going and people liked that, fine. To a degree I wanted to be respected. But I had absolutely no desire to be though of as part of the Cool Kids. And Kara, to some degree, did. I think it was exacerbated by where she was. In a lot of ways, us being separated made that part of it easier. I could take the snobs and the fratboys for a weekend. I wouldn't be able to take them longer than that. It was something to think about. ------- APRIL 29th, 1980 I had something to do after school on this Monday. I grabbed Michelle after school, and asked her about her bus route. It went where I thought it did, so I went on her bus after school. She got off before I had to. "Get off when Chris does, that's as close as it gets." So I did. Christine was standing there when I got off the bus. "Why did you take this bus?" she asked. "I have to go to the cemetary. She would have been sixteen today." "Oh," Chris said. "Can I walk with you for a bit?" "OK," I said. It didn't take her too far out of her way, she lived the next street over from the street leading to the cemetary. "I wanted to talk to you," she said. "I owe you an apology." "For what?" "For the way I treated you while we were going out. Most specifically, the way I treated you concerning Beth." Christine sighed. "I guess it never sunk in. I know you said it, but it just never sunk it. She was sick. I know. But I guess I never believed she'd die. When she did die, you can't possibly know how bad I felt. You knew, you knew all along, and I tried to get between the two of you. It was wrong, and I'm sorry." "It's water under the bridge, Chris." "I just wanted you to know." "Thanks." "I learned a lot from us going out." I had to chuckle at that. "What, that we shouldn't be going out with one another?" "True," she agreed with a laugh, "but a lot more than that, too. I'm a lot more easygoing now." "I'm glad." We were approaching the entrance to the cemetary. "Do you want company?" she asked. "I think I need to do this by myself," I said. "Understood." She stopped, and leaned up and kissed me on the cheek. "Take care of yourself, Eddie, OK?" "You too." When you walked into the cemetary, a lot of the gravesites were to the right of the main entrance. There were roads off of that main entrance road. I took the first one to the right and walked three-quarters of the way down. Right in front, on the right side of the road, was Beth's grave. I still didn't know what I believed in. I had no confidence that she still existed, on any level; that she could hear me. But I was far less sure that it wasn't true than I once had been. I didn't know. But I knew what I wanted. I knew what I hoped. "Happy Birthday, Beth," I said, hoping someone heard. Then I put the flowers I had brought in front of her gravestone. ------- Chapter 12 "IS IT OVER NOW, DO YOU KNOW HOW, TO PICK UP THE PIECES AND GO HOME" JUNE 8th, 1980 Quite a bit happened in May and the first week of June. First of all, Kara came home, on Thursday the fifth. We'd already seen each other on Saturday the seventh. It was the typical joyous reunion, tinged with a bit of desperation and a not inconsiderable amount of horniness. I knew we were going to have to talk eventually--but right now we just wanted to enjoy the reunion. Before she got back, all through May, a lot of my energy was concentrated on the band. It wasn't that easy of a thing, starting a band in the middle of 1980. We had to wrack our brains coming up with a setlist. Let's face it, if you're a rock and roller, the late seventies sucked. We would've had more choices if we decided to be a disco band--but we didn't want to do that. And we could've come up with a hell of a setlist if we stuck to the sixties, but we didn't want to be a complete oldies band, either. The good thing was that a lot of the new wave acts that hit during the early eighties had actually started recording by 1980. You had to kind of search their stuff out, especially the British acts, but that's where the second-time-around stuff came in handy. I knew when a lot of this stuff had come out from the first life. Now, a lot of it I hadn't heard until years later, but that didn't matter now. I knew what to look for when I went to the record store. Of course, I had to be careful. I came very close to suggesting we learn U2's New Years Day until I remembered it wasn't released until 1983! But there was enough. Elvis Costello's Allison and Just What I Needed by the Cars went into our repertoire right away. And there was some good stuff around. There was, of course, lots of Bruce Springsteen to choose from. As I said, we did Prove It All Night that first day, and we quickly added a very sloppy version of Born To Run to the setlist (that song is death to play!) I knew The River would be released in October, and I'd quickly suggest Two Hearts as soon as it was out. There was a bit of that in 1980--I was waiting for the Pretenders first album to show up so I could suggest Brass In Pocket, which would be a great showcase for Michelle. Fleetwood Mac always had good stuff for a band with a female singer, and we quickly worked up Dreams and Sara. We also did Go Your Own Way, a song I liked singing. There was good Tom Petty stuff to choose from. We did up Queen's Fat Bottomed Girls. Take It Easy by the Eagles. Anything remotely good that was at all a hit in the last few years, we tried. And we did go back into the sixties for quite a bit. There was never a shortage of Beatles songs to play! One of the problems was slow songs. We needed slow songs if we were to play school dances, which we wanted to. And, quite honestly, the pickings were slim as far as I was concerned. In a few years, we'd have stuff like Journey and Foreigner to choose from--guilty pleasures to be sure, but good slow-dancing material. We managed to get a decent list together. I also made sure we stuck in stuff like My Girl and When A Man Loves A Woman as some of the slow songs. We hit on a great showcase for Michelle early. At like our third practice, we tried Because The Night, the Patti Smith song she co-wrote with Springsteen. Michelle just nailed it. Getting through the songs was all well and good. But any musician will tell you, the most important part of a band is the people, and how they get along. We were lucky, that there was a solid core of four of us who'd known each other for a while--me, Stan, Michelle, and Kenny. Kenny not as long as us other three, but I'd known him for over a year and we all liked him. I considered Stan and Michelle two of my closest friends and I know they felt the same about me. However, that's just a starting point--because band dynamics are different. I'd played in a couple bands in the first life--later in life, college age, and nothing major--but enough to know something: I'm a pain in the ass. As a friend I think I'm a good one, and I'm a good person--but as 'fellow bandmate' I'll drive you right up the wall. The problem is my ear. It's unbelievable. I don't have the physical attributes to be a great instrumentalist--my fingers are way too short--but I hear all the parts in my head. And if someone else in the band fucks up, I'm the first person to hear it. I can hear a bum note almost before you play it. As an added bonus, I can play bass, and not too badly either. I drive bass players absolutely crazy. If you're not dead-on, I will hear it and I will bug you to death about it. I am hard on fellow bandmates, and I know it. I was trying to be good--I promised myself I wouldn't be so much of a martinet this time around. And I'm harder on myself than I am on anyone else, though I'll admit people might not notice that! However, it quickly became apparent that I wasn't going to have a single issue with this particular bass player. Michelle was as quick with her ear as I was. And she was even harder on herself than I was. I also discovered I had to make myself gentler by necessity, because of Stan. I quickly glommed onto his working methods--the first couple of runthroughs of an unfamiliar song, he played like shit. After a couple of trips through it, he was perfect. He had to work his way into it. Michelle and I, because of our ears, wanted to play it perfectly from the get-go. Stan didn't care about that, he got to that point. As soon as we all got used to that, we were fine. Sometimes, it just came--and with a vengeance. There was one day that Michelle, in between songs and just fooling around, started playing the bass line to It's The Same Old Song. I looked at her and said, "Hey, take that from the top. Do we know that one?" We did. First try, it worked. I loved it when stuff like that happened. It happened again with Brown Sugar. I was just fooling around and I hit the guitar intro, and before I knew it, everyone else was playing. That kind of thing was fun. We were getting to know the other members of our band. Karen was quiet and sweet, and very good-natured. I got the impression that because of her shyness, she was a bit of an outsider. Michelle and I talked about this once, and she saw the same things I did--that Karen was really enjoying getting a bit out of her shell and being part of a group. She was a fine player, very sweet, a nice steadying influence. She also, we noticed, quickly starting throwing little looks across her keyboards over at Dave! Dave was, well, a little different. He wasn't what he seemed at first glance. He was fairly thin and not very tall. His frizzy hair extended down past his shoulders, and he tended to walk around school in a leather jacket and boots, chains hanging off his jeans, that sort of thing. He looked like... well, we called them burnouts. You might have called them greasers or something like that. But he wasn't. He was a very nice guy, and very smart. He just liked to project the image of a burnout. Not that he never lit up a doobie, he did once in a while. (We all did, including me, every once in a while--except for Michelle). But the true burnouts at Cabot High were stoned almost all the time, and weren't getting B's and A's in school, as Dave was. And then there was Debbie. She was agreeable, first of all. Heck, she was a saxophonist and third guitarist, so there were some songs that there wasn't much for her to do. She didn't mind. She strummed a guitar or played percussion, and chipped in on the vocal harmonies. She had a good voice and I asked her if she wanted a solo or two. She reacted with complete horror! Evidently, that scared the hell out of her--but she pitched right in on the harmonies. As a person? Well, she was right. We were close friends right from the get-go. It was rather amazing to watch her blossom. The whispering and rumors about her had really affected her. She seemed defensive, with a bit of a chip on her shoulder, waiting for someone to make a comment. Nobody did. The rest of the band just treated her like a band member--which was what she wanted. Because of that, she quickly started to loosen up. She turned out to be sassy and funny, a real wisecracker. She was smart, and fun to be around, and she could really play. However, it was on this day, Sunday the Eighth, that all the interpersonal stuff in the band started to come together. First of all, we found out that Dave and Karen had had their first date the night before. Second of all, Stan finally dumped Christy. I think he'd stayed with her for so long purely out of inertia, but he finally got sick of her. And Michelle overheard him telling me. Then, after another fine productive practice, Michelle said, "I have to go shopping." We were at Stan's house, and he lived right across the street from the Cabot Mall. "I need clothes. Hey, Debbie, wanna come with?" I wish I had had a camera to take a picture of the look on Debbie's face. She was flabbergasted--and delig d. "OK, I'd like that," she said, trying to sound nonchalant--and failing completely. Oh, make no mistake about it, Michelle knew exactly what she was doing. It was just one of the reasons she was one of my favorite people. After everyone left practice and I got home, my phone started ringing off the hook. Stan called and asked if I thought he should ask Michelle out. "Only if you have an ounce of brains," I told him. Then Kara called and we had phone sex. Then, later, Debbie called, telling me what a great time she had shopping with Michelle. Then Michelle called. It was all stunning when you remember that, the first time around, at this age, I didn't have anything remotely resembling a social life! Four phone calls in one day? For me? Unheard of. That's why I completely understood Debbie in a way that I could never completely tell her. Oh, she knew some of it--she knew what an outcast I'd been up until eighth grade. What I couldn't tell her is that I'd lived a life where it went a lot longer than that. That disbelieving gratitude at a gesture of friendship from Michelle--well, I completely understood that. And when Debbie called me up, gushing, I couldn't help but get a raging case of the warm-and-fuzzies. So, things were good. Mostly. JUNE 14th, 1980 The mostly part had to do with Kara. We were together on this day, a Saturday. We were up at our old haunt, Braddox Hill. We'd eaten lunch, and were just cuddling--nothing more had started yet. I wanted to talk before any of that happened, because I didn't know how she was going to react to what I had to say. I just said it. "I don't know how much longer I can deal with this." "The separations, you mean. The coming and going," she replied, understanding completely. "Right." "I'll admit it, Eddie, I've thought the same thing." "Look. I think the only reason for us to put ourselves through all of that is if we're almost sure we have a future. And I don't know if we do. First of all, we're too young to even think about that. And, second of all, my trip up to Andrews brought home a few truths. I think we want different things out of life." "Yeah. I've been thinking the same thing. Damn. I've been killing myself for a month trying to figure out how to bring this up." "See, I saved you the trouble," I said with a little grin. "So, what do we do about it?" "Well, if it's OK with you, I say we do what we originally did. When I first went away. Eddie, I'm home for the summer now, and I'll admit it--I want the summer." "OK, I agree with that." "But, in September--we split up. See other people. It's what we originally said--if it's meant to be in the long run, we'll have time." "OK. God, I'd been dreading this." "Yeah, me too. Hey, I think you're right about us wanting different things in the long run--but, let's face it, we've often been on the same wavelength. It doesn't shock me that we came to the same conclusions." "True enough." She looked down. "I just hope you don't regret the past year. You know, trying the long distance thing. Because as tough as it's been, I'm glad we did it." "Are you kidding?" I said. "Look, I don't know what I would've done without you. You know, after Beth. Believe me, I don't regret it. You gave me a reason to get through it." "Good. I'm glad of that." She took a breath and then looked up at me with a little come-hither grin. "Well, since we've given each other the summer, I think it's time to stop talking." "We agree again," I said with a laugh, and reached for her. JULY 6th, 1980 On the 4th, the gang up the street had a Fourth Of July bash. Kara went with me. We had a good time. On this day, the 6th, I was up the street again, this time by myself, chatting with DeeDee Neeland. Dee was only 13--she'd be 14 in September--but she'd actually gotten pretty mature in the past few months, especially for conversation. We were sitting out at her picnic table, just the two of us, chatting. "I really liked Kara," she told me. "She's very nice. And she's good for you." "Yep," I smiled. "You must be very happy." "For now." "That doesn't sound good," she said. "We're breaking up at the end of the summer," I told her. "The long-distance thing was just getting too hard." "Oh, darn, that's too bad," she said. "You guys seemed good together." "We are, to a point," I told her. "But we're young. If it's meant to be we have time. And neither of us are happy with the long-distance thing." "But now you'll be back on the girlfriend hunt," she teased. "Ah, I'm in a band now. Once we start playing, I'll have to fight them off." "You? Yeah, right," she laughed. "A band, huh? That's cool." "Yep. We just started rehearsing, but it looks like we're gonna be pretty good." "Hmm. We'll have to think about that for next year's Fourth party!" JULY 19th, 1980 I got a phone call I didn't expect on this day. Mom answered the phone, and called to me. I went and picked it up. "Hello." "Hi, Eddie. It's Olivia." This was a surprise. "Hi, Livvie, how are you?" "Not so good, Eddie. I need somebody to talk to." "You want me to come over?' "Would you?" Of course I would. Out of loyalty to Beth, if nothing else--but I'd always liked Olivia. Though I'll admit a bit of trepidation about getting involved in Olivia's life, which was a mess, but I wasn't the type to let my friends down. The living ones or the dead ones. And Olivia didn't sound at all good on the phone. It took me a few minutes to ride my bike over to her house. She was sitting on her front steps waiting for me. We sat there for a while, and talked. Well, mostly, she talked, and I listened. She'd just been dumped by another boyfriend--another real loser. I told her that, and told her I thought she was better off without those losers she'd been dating. "Easy for you to say. You have Kara," she said. "Well, Kara and I aren't going to be Kara and I much longer," I told her. I explained what we'd decided. "Oh. You're OK with this?" she asked. "Yeah. It really is for the best." "OK. But you'll find someone else, I know you will. Who do I have besides all the losers?" She started crying at that. But I knew what the real problem was. "Livvie? I miss her too, you know. I knew her my whole life." She looked at me, startled, then sighed. "I know you miss her. But you have other people. You have friends, family. Who've I got?" "Well, me," I said with a little grin. "I hope you know now that all you ever had to do was call." "Yeah, I do. And thanks," she said, giving me a little smile for the first time that morning. That's when I got an idea. Friends listen, sure, but they also do things together. It was shortly after noon. "Have you eaten lunch?" I asked her. "No, not yet." "Do you have a bike?" "Yeah." "Go get it." "OK," she said, throwing me a quizzical look. "We're gonna get lunch. I know a place." "OK." She went and got her bike. We drove about a mile from her house to a place I knew. We tied our bikes up and I led her in. She was completely stunned. You see, I hadn't taken her to a restaurant. I'd taken her to a bar. And not a 'tavern' or 'pub', either--this was a barroom. It was called Max's, and it was dark and dingy inside. Even the floor was black. You walked in, and there was a long bar along the right side. The left side was filled with wooden booths, all high-backed and dark. In the middle was a pool table. A few seats at the bar and a couple of the booths were full of middle-aged men drinking beers. Poor Olivia must've been scandalized. Especially when all those middle-aged men greeted me by name! "Hey, Eddie, how you doin'?" I said hello to all of them, then led a completely amazed Olivia to a couple stools at the end of the bar. There I was greeted by Tony Macuccio, the bartender. "Hi, Eddie," he said, "How's it goin'?" "Great. We need lunch. You like cheeseburgers?" I asked Olivia. "Uh, yeah," she said hesitantly. "Great. Two cheeseburgers with fries. I'll have Orange Crush to drink. You?" I asked Olivia. "No booze, Tony knows we're underage." "A coke, thanks," she said with a little giggle. "Tony, this is my friend Olivia," I said. "She needed a bit of cheering up," I said. "So you brought her here?" Tony laughed. "Well, I figured Max's cheeseburgers would cheer anyone up." "Is that Eddie Bovilas I hear out there?" I heard bellowed from the grill area in the back. Out came the owner, Max Rubin. He was in his sixties, a Russian Jewish emigre who'd been a friend of the family just about forever. Tony had, too. I grew up in this barroom. That's why I knew the burgers were good! "Hi, Max. This is my friend Olivia. Make the burgers extra-good for her, would you?" "My burgers are always good," Max said through his Russian accent. "That they are." Tony brought our drinks over, then went to get stuff for the guys down the bar. Max went back to the back room to make the food. Olivia took a sip of her coke, then gave me a wry grin. "I'll admit, this is about the last place I figured I'd end up eating lunch." "I love it here. I practically grew up here. Max and Tony are old family friends. Tony's oldest daughter used to babysit us, in fact she's my brother's godmother. My Dad used to tend bar here a couple nights a week when I was a baby. I've been brought here since I was an infant." "I'm not sure how I feel about barrooms." Her voice dropped. "My mother spends far too much time in them." "Ah," I said, mentally kicking myself for having forgotten that. "You won't have any problems here, though. We're not drinking--and those guys down there that are, none of them are drunk. Tony doesn't let things get out of hand." "That's a good thing, considering I just realized I'm the only female in the place!" "And you're as safe as you can be here. Tony and Max will make sure of that. And you really will like the burgers." "OK," she said, relaxing. "I do kind of like the atmosphere." "It's neat, isn't it? Relaxing." "Yeah. Your Dad brings you here?" "All the time." I looked and saw the door to the place opening. "In fact, speak of the devil..." I laughed. Dad was walking in the door. He stopped to say hi to a couple of the regulars, when I called to him. "Hey, Dad." He looked up, surprised, then grinned, and walked over to us. I introduced him to Olivia. "What the hell are you doing here?" he asked. "Max's burgers, what else?" Just then, from behind Dad, I heard, "Hey, Shithead!" "Hi, Uncle Tommy," I said with a chuckle. Olivia was looking at me, wide-eyed. "That's my uncle, Tom Bovlias. Uncle Tommy, this is my friend Olivia." "Nice to meet you," he said with his usual rakish grin. "Any friend of Shithead's is a friend of mine." Olivia shot me another look. "That's his pet nickname for me," I said with a chuckle. They sat with us, getting food of their own, and before long they had Olivia in stitches. My Dad's a funny guy, and Uncle Tommy is moreso. And Olivia agreed that the burgers were to die for. We got back to her house and were just sitting there, chatting. "You are a lucky guy," she said to me. "How so?" "Your Dad is great. I really liked him. I even liked your uncle, though I don't know about that pet nickname," she giggled. "Ah, I'm used to Uncle Tommy," I told her, laughing. "But I'm glad you liked them." "I was terrified when I first walked in there, you know," she admitted. "I'm not comfortable in a room full of men." "I'm not surprised," I told her. "Your father's long gone, correct?" She nodded. "I've met your brothers, so I know what they're like. And every guy you've gone out with, I have to say, has been an asshole." "I know," she said with difficulty. "Right. So, let's face it, your experience with my half of the species hasn't been all that great." She looked at me in astonishment, blinked, and then said, "Wow. You're right." "We're not all like that." "I know that," she said with a smile. "But knowing it in your head is one thing." "Yeah," I agreed. "I wish I had your Dad," she said wistfully. "He's pretty cool." AUGUST 23rd, 1980 The End. Probably permanently. Kara had to leave for school the following day. She'd been named a Student Resident Assistant. The dorms at Andrew, being as it was a high school, had adults living in them. However, they hired students, Juniors and Seniors, to be assistants. Kara had applied for it, and had gotten it. What this meant is that she had to head for school early, for training, plus to be there when all the other kids moved in. Good for her, but that meant that our summer, our relationship for now, and probably our relationship for all time, ended today. My parents, God bless 'em, sent my brother and sister to my Grandmother's, then took off themselves for the night. So, Kara came over. I even cooked, which delighted her. Then we went to bed. It was less teary than our first Grand Parting, actually. I think we were both more comfortable with it. We were also more comfortable with each other, paradoxically--I don't know if that makes sense. I mean, being more comfortable with each other making it easier to break up. But, somehow, it worked out that way. I loved her. I'd always love her. But I loved her enough to let her go, too. However, what she said after we were done with a marathon love-making session was true. "I'm gonna miss you," she said. "And I'm gonna miss this for sure." "Me, too." "Ah, well. For the best, I guess," she said. "It is, we both know it. You need not to be stuck in your room waiting for me while you're in your Junior and Senior years of high school." "True. Just promise me one thing." "Anything," I said. "Don't blow me off. You need to call and write. Keep me updated. I wanna know about the band, and all that. I know we're going to lose this, I don't want to lose the friendship." "Never," I promised her. "Are you kidding me? I might be able to live without us being lovers, but I'd never be able to live without the friendship. That's the important part." "Good. As much as I love the sex, and that's a lot," she said with a giggle, "the friendship was always more important." "I agree." She laughed. "You know what? I'm 16. You're still only 15. We're way too fucking mature. We should be all broken up about this." "I think it's partially because we've been there before. This past year was kind of a bonus, you know?" "True," she said. "And I think we proved something to ourselves. You know, that we could do it. I mean, if I do decide you're the love of my life, we'd be able to make it work." "Yeah. But I don't think I am, you know," I said with no sadness whatsoever. "Maybe. Maybe not," she said. "I surely don't know that now," she laughed. "Of course not. But I don't think I will be. I think you'll find him, though. And, you know what? When you find him, I'll be happy as a clam for you." "I know you will be. And I know I'm not the love of your life." "Oh, you think so?" "I know so." "What do you mean by that?" I asked her. "One of these days you'll figure it out," she said cryptically. "Anyhow, enough of that. One other thing you have to promise me. When that band of yours gets a gig, let me know." "Of course. You'll come?" "You kidding me? You bet your ass. With bells on." "Good!" Since this was the big goodbye--and since she was headed back to freakin' boarding school anyway--her parents let her spend the night. Now, that was nice. My first experience--in this life, anyway--with morning sex. It was half-sleepy and slow and altogether wonderful. A very fitting 'last time'. Then her parents came to pick her up, and she was gone. I was all right about it. Really, I was. But I didn't feel like spending the day--a Sunday--staring at my four bedroom walls. So I called Olivia. My social life this summer had pretty much come down to Kara, the neighborhood gang, the band, and Olivia. We'd ended up spending quite a bit of time together. I think it was good for her. We'd even gone back to Max's a couple of times. With Kara gone, I just needed--well, not a shoulder to cry on, really, because I was handling it well. I just needed a sympathetic ear. Olivia was the best listener out of all my friends with the possible exception of Michelle--and Michelle was away for a week. So I called Olivia. She told me to come over. We ended up wandering over to our old haunt, Cabot East Junior High, and sitting on the stone wall in front of the place. "At least it was amicable," she told me. "I mean, you're still friends." "I know," I said. "I'm all right with it, really. I just didn't feel like being alone today." She smiled at me, and then said, very softly, "Well, I'm glad you knew you could come to me." "Yes, I did," I agreed. "So. You're on the prowl again, huh?" I laughed. "We'll see. Right now I have to concentrate on the band. We want to play the Halloween Dance this year." "Oh, that'd be cool!" "I know. They have auditions at the end of September for it." "I hope you guys get it. Do you think you're ready?" "We're getting there. So, I need to concentrate on that." I gave her a wry grin. "And not concentrate on sex, unfortunately." "Well, you could combine the two," she said with a wicked grin. "Debbie Romelski's in the band, right? She'll do anybody." "That is not true. Not at all. Debbie gets a bad rap. She's probably only had one or two more sex partners than you have. By no means would she do anybody." "Oh." "However, it is true that she'd probably do me in a heartbeat," I chuckled, getting a nice blink-and-laugh from Olivia. "So? Go for it." "Ah, there's enough interpersonal bullshit in that band. Dave--he's our drummer--and Karen, the keyboard player, started dating a month ago. And then we have Stan and Michelle." "Have they gone out yet?" "Friday night," I laughed. "Stan finally got off the pot and asked her out. Michelle took off with her family yesterday, though, so now Stan has to wait a week to see her again. Evidently the date went very well." "Good for them. I remember when I used to eat lunch with you guys, that there were a lot of sparks flying between those two." "Yep. Stan has been afraid of her, though. He finally wised up." "Good." "But if I hooked up with Debbie, that would really complicate matters. Plus, it'd only be for sex. Well, friendship and sex. We're good friends, but it's not more than that and I can't see that ever changing. We just don't feel 'that way' about one another." "Ah." She grinned at me. "You're a born romantic." "Guilty," I agreed with a chuckle. "Don't get me wrong, I'm not opposed to sex just to have sex. Debbie being in the band would complicate that kind of thing, though. And I much prefer being in love. I've been in love twice. Even though one ended badly, I like being in love." "Romantic to the point of being mushy, even," she laughed. "That's good to know." "That's me, the ol' mushball." SEPTEMBER 2nd, 1980 School started--the beginning of my Junior year in high school. I got through my first few classes, then headed down to lunch. I got there early, because my last class before lunch was right across the hall. So, I got my food, grabbed a table, and waited to see who else showed up. Olivia was first. "Do you mind?" she said. "Of course not." Then I saw Debbie, and waved her over. She was delighted. The table rapidly started to fill up. After a bit, it turned out there was a knot of us at the middle of the table--me, Olivia, Debbie, Kenny, Danica Rosen, Steve McCauley, Sara Beauchamps, a few others--all chatting. Then, at one end, we had Stan and Michelle gazing dreamily at one another. At the other end, Dave and Karen doing the same. Sara noticed this after a bit. "You ever feel like you're surrounded?" she snorted, motioning to the two stargazing couples on either side of us. "Uh-huh," Danica agreed. "You're just lucky Maria was out today, or there'd be three," Steve said. Maria was still his girlfriend. "You and Maria have been going out for a while," Danica pointed out. "You're not in that oblivious to the rest of the world stage anymore." "True," Steve agreed. "Though we can be sometimes. Those guys, though... jeez. We're three feet away and they don't even realize we're talking about them." That brought a round of giggles. "Oh, it gets worse," Debbie pointed out. "You should see them at band practice. Yikes. Sometimes either Eddie or I or both of us have to work out with Stan who's going to play what guitar part, right? Oy. It's like pulling teeth." I laughed. "There was one song last week we just ignored him. I played the rhythm, Debbie played the lead, and he barely even noticed we'd started a song. Luckily, Michelle is better, she can play while she moons." Suddenly, Michelle looked over. "I'm sorry, Eddie, did you say something?" That just cracked us up completely. Poor Michelle and Stan were completely lost. They went back to mooning, and we all chuckled. Then Olivia, who was sitting across from me, looked at me. "Is this killing you?" she asked softly. "Hm?" "Them," she said, pointing at Stan and Michelle and then Dave and Karen. "That must be kind of hard for you to take right about now." "Nah, I'm fine," I said, smiling easily. "I really am OK. A bit lonely, I'll admit, but it'll all work out. And I'm not for a second envious of them," I said, pointing to Stan and Michelle. "Shit, they never would've gotten together in the first place without me hounding Stan to death!" "OK, good," Olivia said with a smile. "I was just worried about you, is all." "No worries. But thanks." That ended that sideline to the conversation, But Debbie shot me a look I couldn't quite make out. SEPTEMBER 19th, 1980 Tryouts for the Halloween Dance. They'd been seeing bands all week--and the scuttlebutt I'd heard was that they were so disappointed they were thinking of going with a DJ instead. DJs replacing bands happened a lot at high school dances--it would've been a pity. But we were the last band to try out, on Friday the 19th, and we were determined that the disappointment would stop there, and that there wouldn't be any DJ. We did it. We played a few tunes, and the Student Council immediately offered us the gig. We accepted. The money wasn't great, but we didn't care--it was a first gig. This was to put ourselves out there, we could make money later. Now we just had to put togehter a setlist. We'd be playing 7-11. So, that was four sets, with a 10-15 minute break in between sets. So, we needed three sets of 45 or so minutes, and the last set an hour. We should be able to do that. After the tryout, I went home. I was relaxing, and the phone rang. Mom told me it was for me, so I went up in my room to take it. "Eddie?" "Hello, Kara, I was going to call you. I've got news. We got the Halloween Dance gig." "Oh, Eddie, that's so great! Can you smuggle me in?" "Count on it." "Good. I'll make sure I come home that weekend." She took a breath. "I need to tell you something." Another deep, long breath. "Um, Eddie? I met someone." "Good for you!" I said. "Yes, but... Eddie? It's only been a few weeks, but... it's serious. I think it's serious. I mean really serious." "You think he might be The One." "He might. It was like getting hit by an anvil. He's a resident assistant, too. I met him at the training. I'd never met him before. I talked to him for an hour and I couldn't breathe." "I'm happy for you," I said--and I meant it. Mostly. "Tell me about him. What's his name? What's he like? Where's he from?" "His name's Peter, he's from Newport, Rhode Island. He's a junior like us. What's he like? That is the really weird part. He's definitely got quite a few things in common with you." "OK," I said, slightly bemused. "A lot of differences, too, but there's definitely similarities. You're the smartest person I've ever met, but he's close. He's not as outwardly geeky as you are--but he's shyer. And he's like you with girls--only the way you were back in eighth grade, when we first started going out." I could hear the bemusement in her voice. "I threw myself at him and he's not quite sure what to make of that yet." I had to laugh at that. "He's more serious than you are. He comes from money, and a prominent family, so I think he feels the weight of some responsibility about that. I definitely need to loosen him up. That's part of the appeal, I'll admit, because I'm more serious than you are. But he's sweet, generous, wonderful to talk to, thoughtful and kind. In that way, he's just like you." "Awww," I said. "He's also completely besotted with me," she laughed. "There again, just like me." "Well, like you used to be," she pointed out. "The distance killed that, for both of us. And dating Kelly killed it for you, I know that." "Excuse me?" "You figured out, when you dated Kelly, that there were other fish in the sea besides me. I knew it from the minute I saw you two together. I know it ended badly, but if it hadn't, you never would've gone back with me." "Well, that's true, but that's because I would've stayed with whoever I was with. I could've never chosen." "I know that--but you had a choice. You know what I mean? You dated Christine, too, but if I had come up to you and said, 'Oh, dump her and go back with me', you would have. Kelly was a true other option, you see what I mean?" "Yeah." "I feel funny, though. Because it's true--I did think there was a possibility you were the love of my life. Peter completely blindsided me. I felt a bit guilty. I still do." "Oh, Kara, to hell with that. I have a theory, you know." "About what?" "Love and all that," I told her. "I firmly believe it is completely possible to love more than one person, and to love them deeply and truly, and sometimes to have it happen at the same time. I think that's possible even if you're basically monogamous. I'm perfectly capable of being monogamous in a relationship, and sexually--I don't ever think I could ever be completely emotionally monogamous. And, if you want to carve out a monogamous future with another person, raising a family and all that, or even in some cases just dating--I think you run into circumstances that are apart from just emotional. You see what I mean?" "Kind of." "Let me put it this way. You love Peter?" "Getting there in a hurry," she laughed. "You still love me?" "Well, yeah." "So. Why are you with him and not me? I'll answer that for you: distance is one. Lifestyle I'm betting is another. You might just be more compatible with him in the long run, and you owe it to yourself to find out. Doesn't mean you don't love me. We're just not together in that way, because it suits your life more to be with Peter, at least right now." "So, you're saying that the difference between you and Peter isn't the feelings, it's the places you each have in my life? And that's OK?" "That's perfectly OK." "Wow. You just lifted a thousand-pound weight off of my shoulders." "I don't know why. You did it. With Kelly. You never would've tried to break us up, and you knew I still loved you, even though I was witih Kelly." "I guess I never thought of it that way. But it makes sense. It's just that, let's face it--jealousy comes into it." "True. I won't pretend I'm not jealous. I just think that it's something that has to be dealt with. I can get all jealous--if I feel like losing a friendship I value highly. It's not worth it." "Yeah. I felt that way when you were with Kelly. I was jealous. But I also loved both of you, so I accepted it." "Right. I don't know Peter, but I do love you. And I'm happy for you. Go for it." "Thanks, Eddie. That means more than I can say." "So. See if he can come up here with you on Halloween. I'll smuggle you both in to the dance." "Great!" OCTOBER 18th, 1980 I said I was fine with it. And, on one level, I was. On another level? I was sulky. It was times like these that I tried to draw on my 'other life'. Because I knew how much better this one was. I knew, deep down, that anything I had with Kara was a bonus. I knew--and it got proved to me, every time she called, which was often--that we had forged a friendship that was utterly unshakeable, no matter who she was with romantically. I also knew that the friendship was the important part. And I knew I wanted her to be happy. She was. I could hear it in her voice. But I was still sulky, just a little bit. So, in an attempt to shrug off the sulkiness, I just put aside any kind of thoughts of love and romance... and, dammit, sex... and concentrated on what I had. School. The friendships. And the band. We were trying to get our shit together for the Halloween Dance. On this day, we were trying to nail down a set list. Springsteen's The River album had been released a week ago, right on schedule, so I introduced the band to Two Hearts, which we quickly learned. Everything was falling into place. Except for two things. We didn't have an opening song... and we didn't have a name. We had Prove It All Night slotted in the opening slot, but none of us were satisfied with that. Prove It worked better as a second song. We were discussing it, and then I had a brainstorm. "Hey! How about Message In A Bottle?" "By The Police?" Debbie asked. "Yeah!" "Oh, that's perfect!" Debbie agreed. "If Dave can play it, that is. That song's a ballbuster for a drummer." "I don't know it," Dave said. "I do, and it's perfect," Stan added. "Great opening song. And Dave will be able to handle it." "I'll get you a tape, Dave," I told him. "Me, too," Michelle said. "And Monday, please. We only have two weeks!" "Done," I said. Then we started discussing the names. The seven of us, plus Olivia, who was there--she liked to come watch us practice. I wasn't quite sure why--there was a lot of playing the same song seven times, then scratching our groins and grunting while trying to figure out other stuff to play. It wasn't like a gig. But Olivia enjoyed it. I didn't mind. Anyhow, we were discussing names, and Olivia was listening in and commenting. At one point, Stan turned to Kenny--who looked like he was nodding off. "Hey. Someone wanna wake up our keyboard player?" Kenny opened his eyes and grinned. "Sorry. I've had a hard time sleeping the last few nights." "Obviously you need sex," Debbie said. Kenny cracked up. "That's your answer to everything, isn't it?" "Well, it's a pretty good answer," Michelle said with a grin. WAITAMINNIT! Did that mean what I thought it meant? I think I was gonna have to have a talk with Michelle later! Anyhow... Kenny laughed and agreed. "Well, yes, it is a good answer. Hard to sleep when you're horny, it's true. And if Debbie's offering, I ain't gonna say no." ZING! Debbie just had her bluff called. And was stammering and shuffling about it. I loved it! Olivia was watching this with amusement. "I don't know if that's all it would take, though," she said. "The way he just nodded off there, I thought he had sleeping sickness." We all laughed at that, Kenny most of all. Then Olivia's eyes got cloudy. She blinked twice, and then grinned. "That's it." "What's it?" I asked. "The Narcoleptics!" Kenny cracked up. "I love it!" "I do, too," I agreed. We all agreed. So, now we had a name. Just in time! Later that night, I got a couple of phone calls. The first was from Michelle. There was a little small talk, and then I just asked her. "Have you and Stan slept together?" "What makes you say that?" she said, with a little hitch in her voice. "When Kenny said that Debbie's answer to everything was sex, and you said that it was a pretty good answer." "OK," Michelle said with a giggle. "You got me. I was going to tell you anyway--well, either I or Stan were going to tell you. Yeah, a couple of weeks ago." "Was it OK?" "It was fantastic," she said, still giggling. "He was my first, you know." "Yeah, I figured." "I was his, too. That surprised me. I thought he'd slept with Christy--but he didn't." "Yeah, I knew that. I think he could've, you know. I don't think she would've protested, at least that's the impression I got. He must've been saving himself for you." "Awww," she said. "That's good to know. Anyhow, yes, we've taken the Big Step. And it was great. I love him, you know." "Yeah, I know. I think it's great, you know that." "Don't spread it around, OK? Well, you can tell Debbie. She'll get a kick out of it!" "Well, Deb probably put the same two and two together that I did." "Good point!" After Michelle hung up, Debbie called. And Michelle was right. "So, that comment Michelle made--are she and Stan sleeping together?" "Yes," I said with a laugh. "I figured it out and asked her. I just got off the phone with her, actually. They started a couple weeks ago." "Good for them!" "Michelle told me to keep it to myself, but she said I could tell you--she knows you'll appreciate it." "Yep, the school slut knows all about that sex stuff." "Ah, Debbie, stop it." "Well... of course, it's been so long, that rep might go away on its own." I laughed. "You didn't take Kenny up on it?" "No. But I might. Hey, Kenny's a good guy, he wouldn't blab. And though I don't think he'd ever be a boyfriend or anything, friends with benefits would be cool." "Well, if you're into friends with benefits, you can come right over here," I teased. "Don't tempt me!" "Hey, it's been a bit for me, too." "Not as long as it's been for me," she said. "True, but it's been a while." She took a breath, as if she was deciding whether or not to say something. I thought she might be thinking about whether or not to take my offer seriously. Hey, I would've done it. Despite what I'd said to Olivia about complicating the band--if it were just friends with benefits, I would've done it. Hey, remember what I said about sex being addictive. I was horny. And Debbie'd be fun in bed, no doubt about it, and I knew we could keep it on a friendship level. And she knew I wouldn't talk. Her thoughts, however, were going in a different direction. "The difference is, you could get laid tomorrow, if you wanted. Considering you have someone madly in love with you." "Uh, Deb, the person in love with me is also now in love with someone else and still an hour away." "I'm not talking about Kara." "Huh?" "Boy, are you blind or what? I can't believe you haven't seen it." "Deb, what are you talking about?" "Olivia." "Excuse me?" "I'm talking about Olivia. Who is completely, totally, madly in love with you. We all see it. Michelle asked me the other day if you were ever going to wake up." "Oh, Deb, come on. Livvie and I are just friends." "That's how you see it. I'm telling you, Eddie, that's not how she sees it. She freakin' moons over you! I see her looking at you when you're not looking, and it's like she's seeing God or something. I didn't realize you were this clueless, Ed. She's head over heels. Trust me." "Oh, God." "You don't feel the same way," she said sadly. "I don't know. I never thought about it." "Oh, I get it. To you, she's an extension of Beth." I inhaled, sharply. "Shit. Debbie, you hit the nail right on the head. And I didn't even realize it. And you never even met Beth!" "Hey, I'm good," she laughed. "Besides which, I know the whole history. You told me. How close Livvie and Beth were, and how you basically got to know Livvie through Beth. So, it's natural. You've got them connected in your mind. And you never thought of Beth in that way." "Right." "Livvie's not Beth, pal. She's not dying. She hasn't known you since birth. She doesn't have any of the roadblocks to falling in girlfriend-type love with you that Beth would've. She doesn't see things from the same perspective you do." "Yeah." "So, there you are. But you gotta figure this out soon, pal. Because if she gets in any deeper, and you reject her, you're going to break her heart." "You really think she's in love with me?" "I don't think it, I know it. It's obvious to anyone who's been looking at the two of you. That's what it is. You've got to deal with it." Boy... if Deb was right--and she usually is--I had a lot to think about. ------- Chapter 13 "EVERY TIME I TRIED TO TELL YOU, THE WORDS JUST CAME OUT WRONG" OCTOBER 21st, 1980 I don't dream much. Well, that's probably not true. Everybody dreams. What I don't do, often, is remember my dreams. It has to be a particularly vivid one. Plus, I generally have to wake up during or right after it to remember it. Since I sleep like a coma, that doesn't happen often. So, the ones I remember tend to be very, very vivid. Rather lifelike, which is disconcerting sometimes. There have been a few. In the first life, I had one that stuck with me for years--the main female character in my first novel came to me in a very vivid and very detailed dream. She sat down in front of me, and said, "Hi, I'm Sophia, and you're going to write about me." And then told me all about herself. That's a dream that I'll never forget. I got four hundred thousand words out of that dream. So, yeah, it happens. But, for me to remember a dream that well, it has to be a pretty memorable dream. Like, for instance, an argument with a ghost. It was a couple days after my talk with Deb. I was still mulling the whole thing over. And, one night, when I went to sleep, my subconcious decided to send some help with the mulling. I knew it was a dream, but, damn--there she was. Sitting on a bench in some undefined woodsy park. "Hello, Beffy," my dream-self said. "Hi, yourself," she smiled. "I hear you got a problem." "You heard right." I sat down next to her. "Eddie. She's a wonderful girl, you know that? I think you could make her very happy." "Well, maybe, but would I be happy?" "Why wouldn't you?" I thought for a minute. "When I told you about the whole back-in-time thing, did I tell you I'd been married in my first life?" "No! Really?" "Yeah. She left me a few years before the send-back. Dumped me for another woman." "Oh, jeez!" "That wasn't the real problem, though. Look, she was very high-maintenance." "High-maintenance?" "Needy. Demanding. Wanted someone to dote on her 24-7. She spent the first fifteen years of our relationship following me around like a puppy asking 'Do you love me? Do you love me?' And I couldn't live up to that. Nobody could. Before the send-back, I heard she was having trouble with the woman she dumped me for--and for the same reason. She constantly needed reassurance." I snorted. "Of course, the problem was, whether or not she loved me was never even discussed. It was all about her." "And you didn't deal with that well." "Not at all. Hey, I like alone time, you know? You know I like being in love, you saw it. But I like a balance. I can't handle people that needy. Plus, any time I tried to assert even the tiniest sliver of my rights, I got called selfish. I couldn't win. It was all about her." "And you think Olivia is the same way." "It's crossed my mind." "You're wrong," Beth said. "Olivia needs love, yes. But it's not the same. Look at it this way: what demands has Livvie made on you? The answer is none. She didn't even tell you how she feels--Debbie figured it out and told you. Olivia hasn't asked a thing of you. And she probably never will." "Hmm," was all I said. "I think there's a difference," Beth went on. "She's needy, but she's not high-maintenance. She takes what you have to give. That's probably not particularly good for her, if you think about it. But she's so affection-starved that she'll take little morsels, you know? She basks in your friendship, even though she wants more." "Yeah, but I'm afraid of what happens if I give her more." "You think she'll morph into a clinging vine?" "Well, yes," I laughed. "I don't see it. I just don't, Eddie. Look, you know what her life is. She has nothing. She looks more needy to you than she really is because she's coming from a place where there is no love. She doesn't need you to be everything--she just needs you to be something. See the difference?" "Hm. I see your point." "Plus, if what Debbie told you is true--and I'm inclined to agree with her--then it won't be as one-sided as your marriage apparently was. Olivia doesn't just want you to validate herself. She wants you because she loves you." "That's true." "You need love too. I saw it with Kara and Kelly. You're a happier person when you're in a relationship." "Yeah." "Outside of what you just said, how do you feel about Livvie?" "I like her. I've always liked her. That was really my only reservation. Besides worrying about that, I like her a lot." "And I hope I helped you out with your reservations." "You did." "So? Go for it!" "You know what? I think I just might." "Good!" "You always know what to say to me. Even now." She laughed at that. "So, can I get away with hugging a ghost?" "In a dream, you can!" So, I did. Then I woke up. OCTOBER 25th, 1980 I wasn't as freaked about it as I might have been, actually. The dream, I mean. It was very lifelike. That should've freaked me. I mean, there she was, in all her glory. It certainly looked like Beth. She said things that sounded like things that Beth would say. If they came dredged up from my subconscious, that was a neat trick. But I just accepted it. I guess, when you've been thrown back in time thirty years, you stop looking for rational explanations for everything. Besides which, I appreciated the advice. So, on this day, a Saturday, I decided to do something about it. I called Olivia, and went over there. We were sitting on her front stoop, talking about nothing, when I just decided to hit her with it. "So, Debbie said something interesting to me on the phone the other day." "Really? What?" "She's convinced you're madly in love with me." You know, I've read the phrase "all the color drained from her face" before, but I don't think I'd actually ever seen it happen. Not quite this vividly, anyhow. I mean, she went completely pale. And she stared at me with those big brown eyes, her bottom lip quivering. "So. Is this true?" I asked. She still stared at me. But, damn, I guess I should've been a little more subtle, because it looked like she was going to start crying any minute. We can't have that, right? So, I didn't say anything else. I kissed her instead. I think that's the first time I've ever felt someone else heave a big sigh of relief! It wasn't a big tongue-suck, just a little kiss, but it definitely worked. I broke the kiss, but kept my face close to hers, and asked again. "Is it true?" "Yes," she whispered. "Good." I moved away from her and sat back on the stoop. "So, you wanna go to Max's and get a burger? We could call this our first date, if you want. Of course, come to think about it, we've pretty much been 'dating' for a while now. But if you want to call this our first date, we can--just to make it official and all." I think you could've heard the squeal of delight in Boston! And, the next thing I knew, I had a very happy female in my lap, kissing my neck. "Oh, God," she said when she moved away from my neck. "Do you know how long I've been trying to tell you? Since Kara left. Definitely since Kara found her new guy. When you told me about that, I wanted to tell you. I just couldn't." "It's OK." "God, I never thought that you might, you know, feel, you know..." "OK, let's say this. I like you. I like you a lot. I'm willing to see where it goes from there. Fair enough?" "Perfect." Max's was a decently easy bike drive, but a long walk, and we wanted to walk. So, we went to a sub shop that was closer, walking hand-in-hand. "I'm surprised you never saw it," she giggled. "I thought I was being way too obvious." "Well, that's what Debbie said," I laughed. "Livvie, I'll be honest. I guess I didn't see it because I never thought about it. Debbie pointed out why--I had you interwtined in my mind with Beth. Which was stupid, but I wasn't doing it consciously." "Ah. That's not what I thought it was, but it makes sense." "What did you think it was?" She looked down. "Nice guys don't go out with me." "They do now," I said firmly. Livvie lit up like a Christmas tree. We got the subs and took them back to her house. We ate them out on the stoop. When we were done, she said, "Come in. Nobody else is home." She quickly led me back to her bedroom. "I don't spend any time in the rest of the house if I can help it." She closed the door. "Won't people be suspicious? If you get caught in the bedroom with a guy with the door closed?" "My mother doesn't dare say a word. I've had to listen to her getting laid for as long as I can remember," she snorted. "I'm more worried about your brothers." "They don't live here anymore. My mother kicked them out. They're out of school and working, so Mom said they can fend for themselves. They live downtown. And even if they stop by, just growl back at them. They back down easy." "OK," I said. "So what do you want to do?" She got shy. "I don't know. What do you want to do?" "I can think of a few things," I said with an exaggerated leer, which made her giggle. "But maybe we should take it slow." "Really?" she said. "Well, let's do this, and see how it goes." I leaned over, and kissed her. She eagerly returned it. We ended up making out a bit. It was actually very nice--Olivia was a hell of a kisser. We made out for a while, then she broke it. "We can go further than this, you know." "Well, let's take it one step at a time for now." "OK," she said, but I saw a flicker of dismay cross her face. I figured I knew what that was about. "Don't for a minute think it's that I don't want you. I do. Believe me. I'm just not a jump-in-bed-right-away person. Not my style." "OK," she said, and then giggled. "I'm so not used to that!" "Hey, you were around when I was dating Chris, you heard Beth and I talk about it." "Oh, yeah. Went way too fast. I see your point. Just remember, Eddie, there's a slight difference. I'm no virgin." "True. But I still would rather work my way up to it. I mean, isn't this nice?" We were lying on her bed, wrapped up in one another. I was stroking her hair. "I think this is nice." "This is very nice," she agreed. "So. The band all ready for Friday?" "Getting there. We have one more practice tomorrow. We're going to run through the whole set from beginning to end. Are you going Friday?" "You kidding me? I wouldn't miss it." She laughed. "It's funny. The boyfriends I've had wouldn't be caught dead at something like a school dance. So, the only times I've ever gone were alone. And I always sat there waiting for someone to ask me to dance--which never happened, of course." She grinned at me. "And, now, this time, I'll actually have my boyfriend at the dance. And I still won't get to dance!" "Sorry, honey, you're dating a musician. Better get used to it." "I'm kidding. I think it's great. I'd rather watch you guys play. I'll just have to dance with myself." "Ah, I'll send Steve or somebody to get you out on the floor once or twice. Maria won't mind. Or, I'll have Peter dance with you when Kara wants to watch. They're coming, you know." "Peter is her new guy?" "Yeah." "You OK with that?" "Sure. I told her to bring him. And that was before I had you. And now that I got you, what the hell do I care?" She sighed happily and snuggled deeper into my arms. "However, Kara and I will always, always, always be the closest of friends. Does that bother you?" "No. It really doesn't. I trust you." She looked down at her feet and said, "Someone I was close to once knew you like a book, remember that. I know what you're all about. I don't worry about that, at all." She took a breath. "In a lot of ways, I knew you through her. Of course, I knew you, but I got more info, a lot more, from Beth. She thought you were the greatest, you know. 'Best friend anyone could ever hope for. Nobody's more loyal.' Stuff like that. If you're that loyal to your friends, I don't ever worry about you being loyal to a girlfriend." I was more than a little stunned by this. Not so much that Beth said it, but that Olivia was strong enough to talk about it. She went on, though. "I have to admit, knowing you through Beth--well, that's probably why I kind of avoided you for a while, after, you know..." "Yeah, I figured as much." "And, just so you know, it was after I got over that--after I called you this summer, and started hanging around with you--that's when I fell in love with you. Wasn't because of Beth." "OK." "But because of Beth I trust you more than I might otherwise." "That makes sense. You don't trust particularly easily." She laughed bitterly. "Would you, if you lived my life?" "Probably not. I'm glad you trust me, though." "I do." She sighed. "I'm glad about the dance, and you playing. That's going to be fun. The next day isn't going to be quite as fun." "For either of us." "I'd, well, I'd like it if we spent it together. That would make things easier." "You got it." After that, we just cuddled some more and made out a bit. It was great. After I got home, I called Debbie. She was ecstatic. Happy for me, yes, but even more ecstatic that she was right! Then, I called Kara. I knew I needed to tell her. After a bit of small talk, I got right to it. "Kara, I started going out with Olivia today." I could hear the smirk in her voice. "Saw that coming." "Wow, did everyone see this coming except me?" "Apparently. I think it's great, you know. You two will be good for one another. And now I don't have to worry about you." "You never did, silly." "A little. But now I don't. I'm glad for you, Eddie." OCTOBER 31st, 1980 The big debut. The stage was all set up--in the gym at Cabot High--and we were waiting in a side room that had been put aside for us. I think we were all slightly nervous--well, all except Stan. That's just not his personality. First of all, he's mister happy-go-lucky. Second of all, he's confident in his abilities on the guitar. So, his whole attitude was, "Hey, we can play these songs. So let's go do it. It'll be fun." He was fine, he was trying to calm Michelle down. She was all right, but there were definite butterflies. So Stan was talking her through it. And then there was Debbie. There's a difference between nervous--and staring into space, shaking. Which is what Debbie was doing. I guess that was one way to cure my mild nervousness--make me try to help her with her extreme nervousness. I sat down next to her. "You OK?" I asked. "I can't do this," she hissed. "Yes, Deb, you can." "I can't! What the hell was I thinking? I'm going to go out there? In front of people? Who are all going to be murmuring about the school slut? I can't do this!" "Yes you can. You think you're the only one they're going to be murmuring about? Lessee, on lead vocals, we got me, the school geek. On keyboards, we have Karen The Invisible Mouse. And then there's our bass player. You think anyone at this school ever thought they'd see pristine, classy, straight-A student Michelle Pepper playing bass in a rock band dressed like that?" Deb snorted out a laugh. "Oh, God." Michelle hadn't gone for the leopard-print miniskirt--but she was wearing a miniskirt and it was tight. High heels, fishnet stockings, and this barely-there spaghetti-strap thing that showed beaucoup cleavage finished the ensemble. She was my best friend's girlfriend and one of my best friends and part of me still wanted to jump her! "And let's not forget the third song of the set, and the first one she sings," I said. "And she insisted on that placement." The song was Up The Neck by the Pretenders, a rocker that just exudes sweaty sex. "I know," Debbie laughed. "I can't believe her. I cornered her when I saw how she was dressed, and asked her if she was unleashing her inner sexbomb now that she's getting laid." I cracked up at that. "She just gave me this very knowing smile." "So. The school geek is going to blow them away with his voice. The school sweetheart is unleashing her inner sexbomb. The only one that nobody's going to be surprised to see up there is Stan. And you think they're all gonna be talking about you?" "They still will be," she said, getting glum again. "Debbie. The first song we're doubling the riff so we'll cover for each other. But the second song is Prove It All Night. And you're going to do what you do every day in practice--you're going to pick up your sax and blow everybody away. OK? You know that song cold and it sounds great. And if everyone's still calling you the school slut, you know what they're going to be saying? 'Wow! Who ever thought the school slut could play like that?' Then you're going to pick up the guitar and blow them away with that. Just remember that. You're good. You're damn good. That's what you want them talking about, and you can absolutely do it." "You think so?" "I know so." I grabbed her around the shoulders and looked right into her eyes. "Listen to me, Deborah Romelski. You have talent. I almost wish you were in a band where you weren't third option some of the time, but there's still enough there. We're playing four hours. You're playing guitar, percussion, tenor sax, baritone sax--hell, you're playing flute on one song. And you're a great harmony singer and you get to do that, too. Debbie, you're good. Damn good, and good at doing a lot of different things. Let's go show 'em." She smiled at me for a minute, then kissed me on the cheek and said, "Thanks." "You're welcome, and anytime." "Are we ready to rock and roll?" Stan yelled. I couldn't resist. "Well, your girlfriend certainly looks like she is, but you guys have to wait until after the gig." "Oh, God, don't say that," Stan said, "she keeps threatening to change her clothes." "I wanted to shock people, but now I'm all self-conscious." "Michelle, you look dynamite. If you weren't my best friend's girlfriend I'd be trying to pick you up." She giggled at that. "And you will definitely shock people. You look great. You look like a bass-playing rock chick. Go with it." "I am. It's too late to change anyway!" She giggled and looked at me. "Besides which, you won't be noticing me in a minute anyway." "Hm?" "I looked out there a minute ago. Somebody went shopping," she giggled. "Huh?" "You'll see." I just looked at her. Then, it was almost time to go. We went to the doorway entering the gym. We all waited there for a minute, waiting for the Student Council president to introduce us. While we were standing there, I saw what Michelle was talking about. Olivia, as I've said, was poor--and her clothes often reflected that more than anything. But I knew she'd been doing some babysitting to get some spending money. Now I knew what she spent some of it on. Look, my attraction to Olivia wasn't physical. It was mental. Despite my reservations that I'd discussed with 'Beth' in my dream, I was very attracted to Olivia's personality. She was sweeter than a glazed donut, for starters. She was smart. I found her vulnerability very appealing. She was a great conversationalist--and, even rarer, a superb listener. She was also trustworthy and loyal. So, that's where the attraction came from. Don't get me wrong--she was damn cute. Especially in the eyes, and the smile, and her smile reached right into her eyes, something that always struck me. I was a complete sucker for that. But her body? Well, I rather suspected she had one, mind you, but I hadn't seen much of it. The raggedy hand-me-downs she usually wore didn't lend themselves to scoping out her assets. Well, standing there waiting to go play, I got myself one hell of a scope. It wasn't as out-there as what Michelle had on, but it was close. Sneakers instead of high heels, and white knee-highs instead of the fishnets. The miniskirt wasn't tight, but short it certainly was, and pleated. If she got off a good twirl on the dance floor, I'd be able to tell what color her panties were, let's put it that way. And the shirt was very close to Michelle's--a skimpy, tight, spaghetti-strap thing. Lavender, to go with the purple miniskirt. The first thing I noticed about that, strangely enough, was that Olivia had really cute shoulders. Don't ask me to explain that. She just did. I looked and said to myself, "I could get used to nibbling on those shoulders." Then I looked down. Oy. You know, I certainly assumed Olivia had tits, her being a girl and all. But not like that. Jesus. Don't ask me to tell you cup size, I have no freakin' idea. All I know is, whatever the cup size was, she was spilling out of it. Impressively. I mean, we're talking about cleavage. My oh my. You know, there's different ways to wear a guitar. Stan had his low-slung. I preferred mine on the high side, up over my stomach--it's easier for me, especially with all the finger-picking and strumming I had to do. And, at that moment, it was a damn good thing. Because I would not want to have to go out there and start banging my guitar around down near crotch level. Not with the boner I had just sprouted! I say again: Jesus. Michelle caught me gazing at this. "Told you," she giggled. "Close your mouth, you're letting the flies in." Before I could respond to that--my brain wasn't working at that moment--the Student Council president announced us. Showtime. We headed for the stage. But I made sure to pass Livvie on the way up there. "God, you look good enough to eat. If I didn't have to go play rock and roll, I'd nibble from your head to your toes." I got a delighted giggle and a megawatt smile for my troubles for that one. However, that was a project for another time. Now it was time to play. We got up there and strapped on the instruments--or sat behind them. We quickly made sure we were all still in tune. And, yeah, the murmuring started. Towards Deb and me, sure. What's the school slut/geek doing up there? That kind of thing. I just shot Deb a 'trust me' look. Of course, they murmured about Deb and I, but when they got to Michelle--it was just sharp intakes of breath, mostly. With the odd longing sigh. I felt like making an announcement: "Ladies and Gentlemen, please welcome the stars of our show: Michelle's Boobies!" I was getting giddy. The nervousness had come back. The butterflies in my stomach were doing a tango. I looked back at Dave, settling in behind his drum kit. I gave him the 'let's get on with it before I throw up' look--he caught it. settled down, counted us in, and away we went. Deb and I hit the riff, the rest of the band kicked in, I stepped to the mike, and we were off. "Just a castaway, a pilot lost at sea, oh! Another lonely day, no one here but me, oh..." It sounded good. Not great, but good. I stayed on tune and remembered the words, thank goodness. Our rhythm section, as always, kicked ass. Message In A Bottle was a good opening tune--nobody was screaming or anything, but people were bopping up and down to it. Then we hit Prove It All Night, a song intended to raise the energy level. You don't want to hit 'em with that first off, but as a second song, it was perfect. And we really knew how to play that one. As I predicted, people's eyes popped out of their heads when Deb hit the sax solo. Especially since, before and after she took that solo, she was strumming an acoustic guitar. Show that versatility, babe! Someone even yelled "YEAH!" in the middle of the solo--I could see Deb's mouth curve into a bit of a smile even with a sax mouthpiece between her lips. Stan answered her with a screaming guitar solo of his own. People were already dancing and hooting. Then it was time for Michelle the Sexbomb, and Up The Neck. I loved the Pretenders in the first life. The minute that album came out, over the summer, I played it for Michelle, hoping she'd like it and get some good tunes from it to sing. She loved it--though I never expected her to pick this song! The words are a bit cryptic, but the allusions and the atmosphere speak of sweaty, animalistic sex. Michelle's voice is naturally sweeter than Chrissie Hynde's, but she managed the appropriate sneer, as our triple-guitar attack screamed away. I knew, right from the minute we got this gig, that certain band member's lives were going to change, especially around school, if we played well enough. Three songs in, it was apparent that Michelle's life was going to change drastically. Her image as the pristine A-student 'good girl' was gone, gone, gone. She'd long been the 'catch' of the school, but now she'd opened herself up to even more of that. I hoped she could handle it. Shit, considering all the guys looking at her with undisguised lust--I hoped Stan could handle it! At this point, he was clearly enjoying himself. He was looking at her with this huge grin on his face, wailing away at the guitar part, as she purred into the microphone. Hell, I knew why he was grinning. I thought it was great. But I didn't have to fend off the line of lust-crazed suitors! We concluded the Rock Your Ass Off opening with Tom Petty's Here Comes My Girl, a fine tune that showed off our blend--guitars melding with piano and organ, Michelle's harmonies going up on top of my lead. We slowed it down then, throwing off a couple of slow songs for the canoodlers. We came out of that with Because The Night--which was just awesome. We cruised through it, everyone hitting every note perfectly, and Michelle was fantastic. We'd been doing just fine, but at that moment, we clicked. Totally. And Michelle was inspiring complete rapture out in the crowd. As we started the intro to the next song, I sidled up beside her and whispered, "You're a hit." She looked stunned--delightedly so. We did a couple more songs, including a nice bash through The Who's Substitute... Then I stepped to the mike and said, "I was going to dedicate this song to my girlfriend, Olivia, but I decided I didn't want to be beaten to a bloody pulp tonight." Everyone looked at me quizically until the song started--Queen's Fat Bottomed Girls. Livvie laughed harder than anyone. We threw a couple more slow songs out, including You've Lost That Loving Feeling, which I had twisted Stan's arm to do--we did it as a duet. He was fine. Debbie showed those flute-playing abilities on Ruby Tuesday. Then we ended the first set with a fine one-two punch: Badfinger's No Matter What; and Just What I Needed by the Cars. Michelle told them we'd be right back after a short break. The cheering was music to our ears. We got back to the little room, and just looked at one another. Finally Stan grinned, shook his head, and said, "Boys and girls, I think we might just have something here." "No shit," I agreed. "Hell, they even stopped looking at Michelle's cleavage and started dancing," Kenny said with a chuckle. "Which is like a miracle," I said. "Jeez," Michelle groaned. "They weren't staring that bad." "Oh, yes they were," I laughed. "Stan, I hope you've got weapons to fend them off, buddy." "Oh, he doesn't have anything to worry about," Michelle purred. "Besides which, I'm up on stage. Your girlfriend is down there--within easy reach. I saw seven guys ask her to dance. And I don't think they really meant 'dance'!" "And she turned them all down," I grinned. "Did you have any idea?" Michelle asked. "None at all. That little get-up was a surprise." "At least I knew what Michelle had planned," Stan laughed. "I didn't mind at all. It was a great surprise," I said. Just then, the scantily-clad girlfriend in question peeked her head through the doorway. "Hi. Can I come in?" "Of course," I said. She walked over to me. "That's some outfit," I told her. "Glad you like," she laughed. "They were teasing me about dressing up like bass-playing rock chick," Michelle said. "I think you've got Rock and Roll Groupie covered!" "Only for one rock and roller," Livvie laughed. "Good," I said. "I don't share. And at least we've got one fan." "Oh, you've got a lot more than that," Livvie said. "You guys were fantastic! You should hear what they're saying out there. They think you're great, and they can't believe it!" "Because of who's in the band," I said. "Right," Olivia agreed. "They're not surprised about Stan, but the rest of you... Of course, I heard a lot of people mooning over Michelle." "Of course," I laughed, while Michelle just blushed. "But they're also stunned about what a good singer you are," she said to me. "And you?" she said, turning to Debbie. "Everybody's flabbergasted. I heard one guy say, 'Jeez, is there anything she can't play?' It's really great." "Wow," Debbie said. "Told you," I laughed. Olivia looked at me. "Debbie was a little nervous beforehand," I told her. "I had to give her a pep talk." "Good. You're a hit," Olivia said. "You're all a hit." "Well," Stan said, looking at his watch, "time to go hit them again, then!" We all started out of the room, chatting delightedly. I held back, though. I let the rest of them get a bit ahead of me, and grabbed Livvie. "If you were trying to convince me not to go so slow, you succeeded." "Oh, no, I wasn't..." she sputtered. "I know," I laughed. "I just wanted to look nice. My clothes suck." "You look way more than nice, Livvie. And I know you didn't do it deliberately, but it worked. Because if I ever get you alone wearing that outfit, I'm going to very much enjoy taking it off." "Oooooh!" she purred. I leaned in and kissed her, a good one. Then I backed away, and said, "Gotta go play." "I know," she said. They all cheered when we climbed back on the stage, which was nice. We started with I Got You by Split Enz, a nice mid-tempo thing to get them going. Then we immediately threw out a couple of slow songs. We actually did Keep On Loving You by REO Speedwagon. No, I'm not proud of that. But, hey, for slow dancing, it's good. We followed that up with Elton John's Rocket Man, which went over really, really well. I enjoy singing it, and it sounded good. That was also a complete showcase for Kenny on the piano, and he played magnificently--he'd suggested that song, but I agreed. As I said, it went right over. I was surprised at the reception that one got. Then it was back to rock and roll. Clapton's version of I Shot The Sherrif, so Stan, a huge Clapton fan, could show off his chops. Two Hearts was in there. Queen's Crazy Little Thing Called Love, which got a big cheer. Michelle did Brass In Pocket. Then back to some slow-dance songs, including Fleetwood Mac's Sara. That's not an easy song to play, and the reception, especially for Michelle's vocal, was great. The second set ended with a nice trio of rockers. First was the very first song we ever learned, Day Tripper. Then, we went with what Stan called the Innuendo Couplet. First was T-Rex's Bang A Gong (Get It On). Everyone really liked that one, and we nailed it. After that was over, Debbie--unexpectedly--walked over to her mike and said, "To end this set, we'd like to play my theme song." I was laughing so hard I could barely start playing the guitar intro. The song? Good Girls Don't, by the Knack. You know, "Good girls don't, but I do." That one. A song blatantly about teenaged sex. Debbie's theme song. Evidently, she'd loosened up since the beginning of the show! When we put Good Girls Don't into the set, we knew it'd be a wee bit controversial, but we didn't care. Especially since we didn't play the 'edited' version. The last line of the middle section on the album version went "till she's sitting on your face". For the single, they edited that to "till she puts you in your place." We happily sang the 'sitting on your face' version. And the kids loved it--everyone was dancing and cheering. I'm sure the teachers chaperoning the dance weren't quite so enthusiastic! After we got off stage--to raucous applause--I sidled up to Debbie. "Your theme song?" "I just couldn't resist!" she laughed. The third set started with Michelle singing Carole King's I Feel The Earth Move. We did Take It Easy by the Eagles, which went over very well--that's a song I love singing, it's right in my range and style. Takin' It To The Streets by the Doobie Brothers--we had worked hard on that one, it's kind of tricky. We pulled it off. This was the set with some of the lesser-known songs in it, like Nick Lowe's Cruel To Be Kind. Oliver's Army by Elvis Costello. We did The J. Geils Band's Love Stinks, and I dedicated it to all the single people there, which got a nice laugh. We even did a song by, of all people, Olivia Newton-John. Michelle liked her, so we did A Little More Love. Then we did one of my favorites, the song we'd worked on the most to try to get down. I Don't Wanna Go Home by Southside Johnny and the Asbury Jukes. That song needed Karen and Debbie on saxophones, and Kenny had to play the other horn parts plus the strings part on his sythesizers. But that song also has a prominent and necessary piano part. So I played it. It took me forever to learn it, especially with singing as well, and that song was supposed to be a showcase for my voice. I managed. I'm not much of a piano player but I managed. We ended the third set with Ticket To Ride. Kara came back stage in between sets. She told me she was having a blast. Introduced me to Peter, who seemed nice. She was plainly gaga over him--which was nice to see. Really. She was happy. "We've been dancing all night!" she told me. "I'm not a very good dancer," Peter said with a laugh. "Oh, you're fine," Kara told him. "This is a great dance!" "Glad you're having a good time," I said. She grinned and leaned into my ear. "Oh, and I talked with Olivia for a while," she whispered. "She's looking goooood, stud." I just cracked up laughing. Michelle led off our last set with Fleetwood Mac's Dreams. Then we went right into a couple of slow songs. First was Up On The Roof, a song I adore singing. We slowed it down a touch from The Drifters' version, and it worked. After that we did a little flashback from the day I sang and played in English class, Shower The People. Everybody was slow-dancing to that one. It was nice to see. After the slow section, I stepped to the mike and said, "Fine. Debbie got her theme song. Time for mine." Debbie cracked up at that. The song? Tom Petty. "Even the loooo-sers get lucky sometimes!" Or lots of times, in my case, as I gazed out at Kara, then Olivia, then back at this fantastic band wailing away behind me. Even The Losers had been a talismanic song for me throughout my whole first life. Now, playing and singing it, with these people playing along, it transformed itself. And it was fantastic. Next we hit Go Your Own Way. After that, a few more slow songs, including When A Man Loves A Woman; and Sara Smile by Hall and Oates. Then it was time for me to get the 12-string out. This was my Guitar Hero moment, leading the band with the 12-string. We started with The Byrds' arrangement of Mr. Tambourine Man, all ringing guitars and soaring harmony. Not really a song to dance to, but everyone liked it anyway. Then Michelle sang Then He Kissed Me and When You Walk In The Room. We ended 12-String Nirvana with the Beatles' You Can't Do That. Stan and Michelle shared the harmony for that one, and Michelle ran over to Stan's mike, and they harmonized into one mike, just like McCartney and Harrison. It was great. Now, it was time for The Big Finish. Our last four songs, meant to blow the doors off the joint. First up was Brown Sugar. God, I love that song. Debbie had a blast wailing away on sax for Brown Sugar, and the next song. The next song? Born to Run, which we almost knew how to play. It was sloppy--but, hell, Springsteen once said it took the E Streeters 10 years to play that song properly, so we could live with sloppy. At least I could sing it. And I thought about putting Kara's name in it again, for old times' sake, but I didn't want the new guy to get jealous or anything! During the first sax solo--that song has two, much to Debbie's delight--while strumming away, I looked around at my bandmates. Kenny, professional as always, sitting straight up while he tripped through the piano arpeggios. Dave, alert, focused, bashing away at the drums. Karen leaned into her organ, swaying back and forth a bit as she held a chord. Stan stood off to the side of the stage a bit, looking at us, face split by a wide grin as his hands worked away at the guitar. Between him and me stood Michelle, sweat beading up on her upper chest and on her forehead, eyes closed in concentration, as she plucked the bass strings. Then, on the other side of me, was Debbie, standing out on the lip of the stage, wailing away at the sax, a look of pure bliss on her face. Damn. This was good. This was where I was meant to be. And I think that went for all of us. I just felt so good with my place in the world as I stepped back up to the mike: "Beyond the Palace, hemi-powered drones scream down the boulevard..." We rode that wave right to the end of the song. After we crashed that one to a close, Dave hit the drums, hard and fast. I stepped up to the mike and intoned, "Rock rock rock rock rock-n-roll High School..." Well, that was appropriate, wasn't it? I was a Ramones fan, anyway. We blasted our way through that one, watching all the sweaty dancers bounce off one another. The night ended with The Romantics: What I Like About You. The applause, when we were done, was deafening. All I could think, with apologies to Sally Field, was, they like us! They really like us! We got back to our waiting room and all collapsed in delerious exhaustion. "Well, I do believe we're going to get some more gigs out of this," Michelle said with a laugh. "No doubt," Stan agreed. He looked at me. "And don't you dare start in, Mister Let's Be Perfect. I know you're making a mental list of all the mistakes we made." "Mistakes? I didn't hear no mistakes," I said, surprising him. "Well, there were a few," Stan conceded. "I didn't hear 'em. If you wanna take over my role as the Band Curmudgeon, be my guest. I feel too good to give a shit." That cracked everyone up, Stan most of all. After that, it was all just happy rehashing. Olivia came by and sat with us, happy that we'd had such a good time. After a while, we went to help Dave pack his drums up and get them in his father's truck. By that time, my Mom was here--Olivia had gotten dropped off by one of her brothers, but Mom and I were taking her home. I gave her a big happy kiss when we dropped her off. "It went well?" Mom asked on the way from Livvie's house to ours. "It went real well. We kicked ass, basically." "Good," Mom laughed. "I noticed Olivia dressed up for the occasion," she said with a little grin in her voice. "Noticed that, eh?" I laughed. "I know I certainly noticed it!" "I think somebody's very very glad you asked her out." "I think you're right." NOVEMBER 1st, 1980 The day after The Big Gig. I was still euphoric when I woke up that morning. Well, mostly. Tempered by knowing what day it was. It had been a year today. Olivia wanted me to come over. Truthfully, I sure as hell didn't want to be alone, either. I called around 10 just to make sure she was awake. I got dressed and got on my bike. Made it to her house around 11. She stepped out of her door, dressed in the same outfit she'd had on last night. I couldn't help but laugh. "Did you sleep in that?" "No," she laughed back. "I carefully hung it up when I got home. I just figured I should wear it when we're, you know, spending time together. Instead of you having to gaze at it across a dance floor." "I definitely approve," I said, climbing off my bike and going up to her, and wrapping her up in a hug and kiss. We sat on the front stoop. "What did you want to do today?" I asked her. "A couple of things. You did promise to remove these clothes the next time I wore them, right?" I just looked at her. "Oh, I'm kidding. I know you want to go slow. Anyhow..." her voice dropped, "I think we need to go to the cemetary. I don't want to go alone." "Yeah." She got out her bike, and we rode the mile or so to the cemetary. We stood in front of Beth's grave for a while, holding hands. It wasn't exactly warm out, being November in Massachusetts, but it was warm enough. We stood there for a while, lost in our own thoughts, not saying anything. After a while, Olivia said, "OK. We can go now." Getting back on our bikes, I said, "Back to your house?" "I'm hungry. Let's go to Max's," she said. So we did. We ate our burgers and chatted happily with Tony and Max, but we were both a bit subdued. Then we went back to her house. She parked her bike, and I tied mine up. Then she led me into her house, then into her room. We sat side-by-side on her bed. "You OK?" I asked. "Yeah. Well, as OK as I'm gonna get, anyway," she said. "But, well, would you mind holding me?" Would I mind? I just reached for her and wrapped her up in my arms. She didn't cry, at all, but she was clearly feeling the effects of the day. I ended up laying on her bed, with her on top of me, my arms around her. After a bit of that, I leaned over and kissed that cute shoulder of hers. She giggled. "You know, when I saw you in this get-up last night, that's the first thing I noticed. These completely adorable shoulders of yours." "Shoulders? You noticed shoulders?" "Well, that was the first thing. I guarantee you I noticed other things." "Oh, really? What else did you notice?" My hand reached up and lightly brushed her breast. "I definitely noticed these." "I was hoping you would," she sighed. "Before last night, I didn't even know you had any." "I know. You know half my clothes, especially the shirts, came from my brothers? Of course they're baggy and unattractive. I was determined to go buy something for myself. And I wanted to show you. If it weren't for you I probably would've gotten something far more sedate. But I wanted to show you." She took a deep breath. "I know there's good reasons to go slow. But I was afraid I didn't turn you on." "Ah, Livvie." I was still lightly fondling her breast. "Really, I'm more turned-on by what's upstairs, generally." "Yeah, right." "Really. Look, do I turn you on?" "Oh, yes," she hissed, which was nice to know! "It can't be all physical. I'm not that good-looking." "Well, you are good-looking, but you're right, it's not all physical. But I'm a girl. Girls and guys are different in that way." "Bullshit. It's different for people. There are girls that do go just for looks. And there's guys that don't." "Maybe." "Anyhow, I get turned on more by personality and brains. But, hell, I'll admit it--when I saw you standing there last night, I got a woodie." "You did?" she said, clearly delighted. "Yeah. This going slow thing really bothers you, doesn't it?" "Well, I'm horny. And you playing with my boob does not help," she giggled. I just grinned at her. And I didn't stop playing with her boob, either. "It's been a while for me. And I was afraid I didn't turn you on. But, well, it's more than that. "Look, I was attracted to you for all the right reasons. But, after I decided I was attracted to you, the other thing started creeping in. Look, you know I'm not a virgin. But, well, it hasn't been much to write home about, you know?" She looked away from me. "I know how you treat girls, and I just had this feeling that with you, well, it'd be a lot better. And that's not the main reason I was attracted to you, but it's part of it." I mulled that over--for about six seconds. Then I didn't say a word. I just spun her around to me, and kissed her. Long and deep. Oh, and I increased pressure on her boob while I was doing it. She broke the kiss and said, "Oh, God, Eddie, if you still want to go slow, this has to stop now." "Fuck going slow," I said, and leaned into her again, stifling her emerging giggle. She let me kiss her for a while, but then backed off. "I feel like I'm pushing you into this," she said. "Because of what I said." I just looked at her for a couple seconds. Then I growled at her, and reached for the hem of that skimpy shirt, and yanked it over her head in one motion. Then, before she could say a word, I reached behind her and unsnapped her bra. "Does this look like I'm being pushed?" "No," she giggled. "Good. God, Olivia, you are something else," I said, gazing down at her big, firm boobs. They were even more impressive than I'd imagined. "I did tell you I planned to take this outfit off." "You did," she agreed happily. "And now it's half-off. So, before I continue, I've got to do this," I said, and immediately leaned down and took one of her nipples into my mouth. She hissed, then sighed happily, lying back on the bed, her hands running through my hair. "Oooh, that feels so good," she sighed. I kept it up, and not for a short time, either. She was completely enjoying it. I switched to the other one--equal time, and all that, since they were both magnificent--but, when I did, I let my hand slip down to her leg, right above the hemline of her skirt. Since that skirt was damn short, my hand was damn close. And I felt her hitch. She was enjoying the attention to her boob, yes, but I felt her try to shift her pelvis down a bit, trying to close that one-inch gap between my hand and paydirt. All right, I admit it. I find unabashed enthusiasm for sex a huge turn-on. Probably why I said 'fuck going slow'--to her, and to myself. It don't take too many hints to get me going. Girls that want it, and aren't shy about it? The biggest turn-on there is. Livvie hitching her hips to try to get closer to my hand--that just about sent me into overdrive. Not completely. I did move my hand, yes--but slowly. I still felt a little hitch from her, but not as much, as I made it clear that I was moving the hand. Her hands were roaming through my hair--I wore it pretty long, as I did in high school the first time around, and it was thick. Livvie's hands were furiously making little nests in it. I didn't mind. I was still nibbling on her boob, as my hand got where it was going. And I found a delightful wet spot right on her panties. I lazily dragged my hand up the panties--she whinnied at that. Then I stopped, pulled my hand away, put the other one up her skirt, and tugged on her panties. They were off in a flash, and I returned my hand to paydirt. She was really wet. I did the upwards motion again, now on an uncovered pussy. Big whinnie! I did that for a bit, enjoying all the heavy breathing, then I started to kiss my way from her boob down her stomach. I felt her glup, as I got down to where her skirt was. I jumped over it and pushed it up, out of the way, and started kissing my way up her inner thigh--making her giggle. Up the thigh I went, slowly, then took a left turn onto paydirt. I didn't know if she'd ever had this done to her before--not that I really cared in any case--and she didn't seem shocked I was headed there. But, as she'd said, her previous sex life was nothing to write home about. I planned to make this one a subject for a four-page diary entry. And this is what I was best at. It was funny. Livvie wasn't vocal, not if you mean actually words or moans or anything. What it was, was her breathing. Ragged didn't even begin to describe it. Whinnies, deep sighs, hiccups of air, little hisses, suttering "huh! huh! huh! huh! huh!" outbursts, the whole bit. I was half tempted to stop what I was doing and make sure she wasn't developing asthma or something! Of course, I didn't do that--I kept at it. After a few leisurely passes up and down her pussy lips, I headed for that nice erect clittie of hers. As clitties go, hers was pretty prominent. I liked that--easier for me to wrap my lips and tongue around. I did just that, as I slipped a finger, then two, into her opening. That's when the ragged breathing shifted into something that sounded like a damn hurricane! Jesus. I'd never heard anyone wheeze and gasp like that. The finish line didn't take long at all--and when she hit it, her thighs clamped hard around my head, and she just whined. Long and hard. I loved it! After she came down--and relaxed her thighs so I could get my head out of there!--I sat up and quickly stripped off my clothes. I reached for my wallet--yup, I'd never broken that habit. I even changed them every month or so so they wouldn't decay. I took one out, ripped the foil off, and slipped it on. As I hovered over Livvie, she finally opened her eyes. She blinked, to focus, and finally realized I was hovering over her, naked as a jaybird, grinning down at her. She looked down, and saw where Mr. Happy was--up and ready, down near her crotch, helmeted and ready to go. She looked back up at me, spread her legs as wide as they could go, and hissed, "Oh, God, YES! NOW!" Like I said--a complete sucker for unbridled enthusiasm. I slid into her in one stroke. As I hit bottom, she gave me one of those hiss/gulp/moan things. She was the most experienced lover I'd ever been with--well, Kara the second time, but that was the second time. Kara and I were very familiar with each other's bodies by then. But this was the first time I was with a girl for our first time that I wasn't her first or, in Annabelle's case, her second. I'll be honest, there was a slight worry. Yes, I know what Livvie had said about her other times, but still. This was a worry that was inherent to me--something I'd been worried about in the first life, frankly, especially after my marriage broke up. I'm not big. Not at all. Maybe close to average length, definitely less-than-average girth. George Carlin used to make jokes about being a Pencil-Dicked Irishman--I knew what he was talking about. If you're a Size Queen, I am most definitely not your man. And I was, as lots of guys are, self-conscious about it. I do have other advantages. The tongue, for one. I'd already proven that one. And, in the old life, I'd developed a very good amount of stamina--and, in this life, I was getting there. The body was still not-quite-sixteen, but I'd gotten better at mind-over-matter. I wasn't going to blow in three minutes. And I know what I'm doing, I know how to get the clittie involved in the action, I know how to build things up. I'd developed all that as a compensation for my lack of size, and it mostly worked. I was still shooting for that four-page diary entry. But, still--sinking into the experienced Olivia, I'll admit it--I couldn't help but think, "Shit, I hope she feels this!" Judging from the rapidly expelled gusts of breath--she felt it. As did I, big-time, which is always a good sign. I hit bottom and ground myself into her--she definitely felt that! I started moving, slowly at first, with the clittie-grinding as I bottomed out. I kept my eyes open--I was enjoying watching. And listening, all those wheezes and gasps and stuff. I sped up, just a bit. The wheezing got louder. Livvie's eyes were closed tight. I leaned over and whispered, "Livvie, open your eyes." They popped open, wide as can be, as her mouth opened and closed with her ragged breathing. It really was damn cute, especially with her eyes wide open and staring right into mine. I picked up my pace a bit. "You OK?" I asked. "Uh HUH!" she hissed. "You close?" "Y-yes." I looked into her eyes, and went for broke. It didn't take long. And it was fun watching her hiss and gasp, as she kept her eyes wide open. Until it hit. Her eyes clenched up at that. It was still fun to watch. I stopped moving as I felt her spasm beneath me. Her eyes flew open as she came down. "Wow!" she gasped. Then she realized. "Uh, you didn't?" "Not yet," I smiled at her. "I generally don't go all that quickly." "Really?" she gasped, huge smile on her face. "Really," I laughed, and started moving slowly in and out of her again. Her eyes opened wide again, and she hissed, "Ooooh!" I couldn't help but chuckle. "God, Livvie, you're fun." "I am?" she gasped. "You sure are," I said, and leaned over and kissed her nose. "Ready to go again?" "Uh huh!" I grinned at her, and picked up the pace. This time, I went right with her. We cuddled for a while, and then we were both thirsty, so we got dressed and went rummaging for something to drink. We took the Cokes out on her stoop. This was, honestly, the part I was worried about. You know, the ol' fear of a clinging vine again. I figured if I was going to get that, it'd be postcoital. It didn't happen. She was very happy and very appreciatve, and cuddly--but without being clingy. You know, we'd had sex with each other for the first time, and it was great sex, so of course she was cuddly and happy. That was normal. They way she acted out on her stoop--completely normal. That's when I finally got it. Livvie was damaged, yes. She was damaged by her family, by her isolation, by the death of the only true friend she'd ever had, by her previous boyfriends. She was sixteen years old, and she'd lived through a whole lot of shit in 16 years. Damaged she surely was. The thing is--she knew it. And didn't like it at all. She didn't want to be damaged. She wanted out of all of it. I should've seen it, frankly. She'd started coming around to band practice, I now realized, to see me--but that wasn't all of it. She talked and joked with the rest of the band. She'd struck up a great friendship with Debbie. She was trying to make friends, trying to have a life, trying to be normal. Her home life was unfixable, but she was doggedly trying to fix the rest of it. Even the outfit was a manifesation of that. And, of course, normal meant a normal boyfriend. Well, she thought I was normal--I knew better! But, really, compared to the losers she'd dated before, I was normal. It was like the weight of the world was lifted off my shoulders. This was hammered home again when I told her that I had to leave. There was no angst or anything. She smiled, kissed me, and said, "Thanks. It was really fantastic, you know." "For me, too," I told her. "Call me tomorrow?" she asked. "Tomorrow night. I'm going to hang out with the gang up the street during the day. That OK?" "Of course," she smiled, and kissed me again. I got on my bike and headed home. Normal. Blessedly normal. NOVEMBER 3rd, 1980 And then--the end of normal. Oh, not with Olivia. Though it was a bit of a change, as I hadn't had a girlfriend that I was in school with since Kelly, and that was a year and a half before. So, it was normal--but not for me, not lately--to find Olivia waiting for me when I got off the bus, hers having beaten mine there by a couple of minutes. Her smiling happily and kissing me, that was normal. Walking to her locker and then mine, and her kissing me again as we separated for classes--normal. Meeting again in the lunchroom--you get the idea. Honestly, I loved it. Not having those casual kisses in the hallway in front of a locker, that was the worst part of having a girlfriend that was an hour away. My relationship with Kara, for a high school kid, that was not normal. This was. It was great. The non-normal part--that had nothing to do with Olivia. It had to do with the fact that I, and six other people, had suddenly become the kings and queens of the school. It was absolutely stunning. I knew we'd gone over well, but not to this extent. Shit, I had trouble getting from class to class with all the well-wishing and back-slapping and "You guys were great!" and "You can really sing!" and all of it. It was stunning. I met up with Livvie in the lunchroom, and we got in line together to get our food--and, even in line, I kept getting comments and well-wishers. After the umpteenth occurance of this, Livvie, grinning, looked up and me and said, "My God, I'm going out with a rock star!" "Let's not get carried away." "I'm not. The rest of the school is!" she laughed. "Good point," I laughed back. We got our food and met the gang at our table, and I found out it wasn't just me. "Do you believe this?" Stan said. "Evidently, I'm now a guitar god." "You are a guitar god," I teased him. "And you're the singing god," Karen teased. "Her, too," I said, pointing to Michelle. "I think she's just a goddess in general," Stan laughed. "Oh, God. I'm getting all these looks," Michelle said. "I should've dressed like this," she said, looking down at her usual polo-shirt-and-chinos attire. "I feel like everyone's undressing me with their eyes!" "I do that all the time anyway," Stan quipped. "So do I," I said with a wicked grin, earning a bark of laughter from Michelle, and a punch in the arm from Olivia! "Just kidding, sweetie. Well, mostly." Olivia tried to glare at me, but couldn't hold back the grin. "Anyway, your image would've been changed just from the playing and singing, Michelle. The outfit was just an added bonus." "Yeah," Kenny agreed. "You're a star, Sarge. Go with it." "Oh, if I must," Michelle laughed. "How about you?" I asked Debbie. "I've been asked out three times," she said with a smirk. "I even accepted one of them. But what's stunned me is the girls." "Girls?" "Girls coming up to me, telling me how much they liked us, how good I was. Look, except for this little gang here, the girls in this school do not talk to me. They avoid me. It's like my sluttiness will rub off or something." She took a breath. "But, today, they are. Talking to me, I mean. And saying nice things. I will admit it, I'm more than a little bit flabbergasted." "Told you," I grinned at her. "Yes, you did," she laughed. "Remind me to listen to you more often!" "Oh, you guys haven't heard the biggest stunner," Dave put in. "Huh?" I said. "I got approached after English class by none other than Winston Craymore." Win Craymore was one of The Elite at Cabot High. Good looking, rich, played football, the whole bit. I'd never had a problem with him--he wasn't an asshole or anything--he just didn't associate much with mere mortals. "What the hell did Win want?" Michelle asked. "He wants us to play at his Christmas party," Dave grinned. "They have a shindig every year up at the Craymore Estate or whatever he calls it. They usually hire a DJ, but Win said that we'd liven up the place more. Oh, and he offered us twice as much dough as we got for the dance." "Wow, did you accept?" Michelle said. "I told him I had to talk it over with you guys, but I didn't think it would be a problem." "Not at all," I said. "Right?" The rest of the band all nodded agreement. "Wow. I can't believe I'm actually going to be walking through the doors of Win Claymore's mansion," Debbie said. "Well, yeah, as the hired help," Stan laughed. "Hm. Think I should play in a skimpy French Maid outfit?" Michelle said. We all cracked up at that. So, no, this wasn't normal at all. I decided I'd take it! ------- Chapter 14 "BROTHER BROTHER BROTHER, THERE'S FAR TOO MANY OF YOU DYING" NOVEMBER 24th, 1980 One of the problems with reliving your life is pinning the memories to the date of an event. In other words, things sneak up on me. I'll be going merrily along, maybe get a glance of the date, and then a memory will sneak up and me, and I'll go "Oh, yeah, that's about to happen!" Today, it was, "Oh, no, that's about to happen!" Because I realized what was going to happen exactly two weeks from today. My idol, John Lennon, was going to be murdered. This is the problem with foreknowledge, especially foreknowledge of bad events. I felt like I should be doing something to stop this. But should I? And, if so, what? I'm gonna go to New York, knock on the front door of the Dakota, somehow get in to see Lennon, and tell him he's going to be shot on December 8th? Yeah, right. Even if I were successful, they'd lock me up. And then probably arrest me as an accessory--I mean, how else would I know about it, right? But, shit, I had to do something, didn't I? Didn't I? There were days when the fucking ethics of being a time traveller gave me a throbbing headache. This was one of them. Look, I figured I'd been sent back for a reason. Now, what reason, and whose reason, I had no idea. I guess the point is, I didn't figure that this was just some sort of random chance exercise, if you see what I mean. Because I knew that, in the grand scheme of things, just my existance as a person with future knowledge meant that I was a variable, and a severe one. I knew I had changed countless lives just by being sent back. But I'd done that just by living, you know? The alternatives were to go hide in my room for thirty years, or retrace my steps exactly from the first time. And neither of those options were really options. Hell, if I thought I had to relive my life exactly the way it was the first time, I wouldn't ever make it back to 2007--I'd throw myself off the Tobin Bridge long before then. Once was enough, thankyouverymuch. And, honestly, I didn't think that the whatever that sent me back expected that, either. That's not much more than an educated guess, sure, but that's the way I felt about it. I know I wasn't going to throw away a second chance like that. That all being said, though, just the act of me reliving my life differently changed umpteen other lives, and I knew it. I mean, just start with this--four out of the six other people in the band were people I never even knew in the first life. Though I like to think I changed most people's lives for the better--because I was a better person--I know that wasn't always the case. And what about people I did know in the first life but never met in this one? How had their lives changed? I'd probably never know. This wasn't something I dwelled on--that would probably just drive me insane--but it did pop up in my head from time to time. I knew it was there, and just hoped everything would turn out OK. But this? This would be different. This would be actively trying to preempt an event. This wouldn't be just me sending off waves by merely existing--this would be me inserting myself into a future event. I decided I just had to give it a shot. How, though? As I said, I didn't want to implicate myself. I decided on a letter--typewritten, of course. Basically saying that I know this is hard to believe, but I can see the future, yadda yadda yadda, and you're going to be killed on December 8th. Ending with a plea that even if he didn't believe me, it wouldn't hurt to protect himself on that date. Now, where to send it from. I didn't want it postmarked Cabot, that narrows it down too much. It would be better to have it postmarked Boston. That was easily solved. NOVEMBER 28th, 1980 You see, on this day, the day after Thanksgiving, I was in Boston. Camping out again to see Bruce. He was coming to the old Boston Garden for shows on the 15th and 16th of December. No Cousin Sandy this time. Mom figured I was old enough to camp out without Cousin Sandy. Olivia's mother couldn't care less. Michelle's parents were a little harder to crack, but they agreed. Stan's parents had no problem with it. So, it was the four of us. We got tickets to the show on the 15th. And, while we were there, I slipped away and found a mailbox. DECEMBER 8th-9th, 1980 And it didn't work. Damn it all. I don't know if he ever got the letter. I never heard anything about it, no news reports of a mysterious warning letter, nothing. I can only assume it vanished into an unread pile of 'fan' mail; or that he got it, read it, and dismissed it. The former was more likely. It happened; I found out about it, just the way I had the first time around. I was watching the Patriots play the Dolphins on Monday Night Football. John Smith, the Patriots' kicker, was lining up for a game-winning field goal--which he'd miss--as Howard Cosell told us all that John Lennon had been murdered. The first time it had happened, I screamed so loud I woke up my parents. This time, I just cried a little bit. I didn't really have a lot of hope that my letter-writing idea would work, but I had a little hope. It was dashed with Howard Cosell's words. Either I made more noise than I thought I did, or my mother has a really well-defined sixth 'Mom' sense. Because she came downstairs to see me sitting there, sobbing. "Eddie? What's wrong?" "Oh, Mom, I didn't hear you come down," I said. "John Lennon was murdered tonight." "What?" "Howard Cosell just announced it on the game," I said, still sniffling a bit. "Apparently he was shot to death in front of the Dakota building, where he lives. They don't know much more than that." "Oh, honey," she said, coming over and giving me a hug. I didn't mind, not even at almost-sixteen. I'd always had a good relationship with Mom, even the first time around, even at this age. "You've had a rough year," she said sadly. "I know this isn't the same as Beth, but I also knew how much you admired John Lennon." "Yeah," I said. "What really sucks is that he'd just made a comeback. First album in five years, and it's great. He was even talking about touring." I sighed. "A lot worse for other people than me, though. His and Yoko's son is only five." "That's tough," she said. "You gonna be OK?" "Yeah. I'm going to go to bed soon." I did so, not sleeping all that much. I got up, and went downstairs for breakfast. Dad, who always gave me shit about my music, especially the Beatles--he was more of a Sinatra/Benny Goodman guy--actually said, "It's a shame. That man was a genius." I was stunned he actually admitted it! I was munching on breakfast, when the phone rang. Since I was sitting underneath it, I answered it. "Oh, God, I just heard. Are you OK?" "Yeah, I'm OK, Livvie," I told her. "I'm glad to hear your voice, though." "Good, then I'm glad I called. I knew how much he meant to you." "Yeah." "I'll wait for you in front of school. You'll need a hug." "That I will," I laughed, thankful for the laugh. "Thanks." I went down to catch the bus to school, and I found out it wasn't just Olivia. Danica Rosen got on and immediately sat next to me. "Figured you needed a friend this morning," she said. I told her I did, and that I was grateful. When I got into school, there was even more of that. Although, in my circle, it wasn't just me that needed consoling. Stan was as broke up as I was, even though we'd often joked that I was the Lennon guy in the band and he was the McCartney guy. He was still very upset. Honestly, everyone in the band was upset. We were all Beatles fans. That night, after supper, I got a phone call--Kara. Thank goodness for Kara. She'd heard the news and had called to make sure I was OK. After we talked about Lennon's death, talk turned to other things. "Peter and I slept together for the first time this weekend," she told me. "Good for you." "Yeah, it was his first time ever." "Oh, really?" I said. "How was it?" "Not bad, considering," she laughed. "And he seems very trainable." "Uh-huh," I laughed. "Of course, the trick is trying to train him while I'm acting all innocent and previously virginal." "Excuse me?" "Peter's under the impression that it was my first time as well. No, I didn't tell him that. But I also didn't correct him. If he asked me outright, I'd admit I had other lovers. But I'm not going to volunteer it. Peter's fragile, especially when it comes to girls and sex and all." "So, what did you tell him about me?" "I told him you and I were very, very good friends. I also told him you used to go out with my best friend Kelly. All true, right?" "Well, part of the truth," I laughed. "I'll tell him everything sooner or later. Right now, he wouldn't take it well. It would be a kick in the male ego, and his male ego is very underdeveloped." "Your business," I told her. "You know I won't spill the beans. Just be careful." "I will," I laughed. "Doesn't it kind of amaze you that we can talk so easily about these things?" "Yeah, kind of," she said. "I'll admit it, I have the odd twinge." "The odd twinge?" "Well, like at the dance. Look, I'm crazy about Peter. I'm definitely falling in love with him. So, there I was, dancing with this guy I love--and I look and up on stage is this other guy I love. There are times when it's weird." "Yeah." "Of course, you didn't notice, not at the dance. I might as well have not been there. You couldn't keep your eyes off of Olivia," she teased. "Well, I'd never seen her dressed like that. It was a complete surprise." "Uh-huh," she laughed. "And it didn't surprise me when you'd told me you'd slept with her the next day." "You have a dirty mind." "And where, pray tell, did I get that?" "Why, I'm sure I have no idea!" "Uh-huh. Anyhow, you can't hide me from Olivia, she already knew, so how does she deal with it?" "Perfectly fine." "Doesn't mind that we're still friends?" "Not at all." My voice dropped a bit. "She told me that because she was such good friends with Beth, she knows how loyal and trustworthy I am." "That makes sense. And good. I'm glad Olivia doesn't feel threatened." DECEMBER 20th, 1980 It had been a busy week. We went to see Bruce on the 15th, and it was great (as it always is). On this day, a Saturday, it was Winston Craymore's party. Cabot's middle class, most of it. But there are pockets. There's a few poorer sections, like where Livvie lives. And there's some rich sections, too, out in far West Cabot. I think the richest section of all was Win Craymore's house. Jeez, what a mansion. We got there early, of course, to set up, and Win was there to let us in. He showed us the room where we were going to be--jeez. It was like the big ballroom in the Sound of Music. And that was only the 'dancing' room--there was another adjacent room where the caterers were spreading out the food. Yeah, caterers. Unbelievable. It's too bad Bruce Springsteen hadn't yet released the song "Mansion on the Hill." If he had, I'd be tempted to play it! Win was cool, though. As I said, I didn't know him well, and had never met him in the first life. He kept to his own crowd so I hadn't talked to him much. I guess I figured he was a snob. He wasn't, really. Olivia was there with me, of course, and Win was even very nice to her. If he was going to look down on anyone snobbishly, it would've been dirt-poor Livvie. He didn't. The more I talked with him while we were setting up, the more I liked him. And that became clear when a girl came into the room and walked over to him, smiling, and kissed him. He introduced her to us as his girlfriend. He didn't have to introduce me, though, I knew her--her name was Kerry Roddicks and I'd known her since grammar school. She lived one street over from me, as a matter of fact. She was a nice kid, we'd always gotten along. And Kerry wasn't in anything even resembling Win's socioeconomic class. Not like Livvie, but my neighborhood was strictly middle-class; and on the 'lower' end at that. Seeing Win cuddling up to Kerry explained why he wasn't a snob. "Eddie!" she said on seeing me. "You know each other?" Win chuckled. "He lives on the next street over from me, I've known him since first grade," Kerry grinned. "Although he was always the class nerd, not the class rock-and-roller." "I'm still the class nerd, I'm just branching out," I laughed. "Branching out well," she teased. "I was at the dance. You guys are terrific. I was thrilled when Win told me he'd lined you guys up to play." Win had gone off to greet other people coming in. Kerry sat down to chat a bit. "I'll admit, I'm a bit surprised," I told her. "I never figured you for an A-lister, Ker." "I'm not," she laughed. "Look, Win is sweet as all get-out. We've been going out since the end of last year and I really like the guy. Some of his friends, however, I can do without. Some of them only hang around with him because he's Win Craymore, rich handsome football player. He knows that. But he just puts up with it." I got what she meant a little later when some of Win's friends started piling in. Mostly A-listers, of course. Some of them were OK. Some of them were not--like Jim Samuels. Jim was a dick. Gorgeous, football player, girls all over him--you know. He was cocky as hell. Convinced his shit didn't stink, basically. All high schools have guys like him, right? I just tried to ignore him. And I would've this night, as well, if it weren't for the girl he had tucked under his arm. Kelly. Jesus. What the hell did she see in him? Look, we tried to avoid one another--but we went to the same school. We ran into each other every so often, we couldn't avoid it. We didn't talk much except for the odd "Hi". I knew sooner or later I'd see her walking with her arm around a guy. Hell, if she'd walked in five minutes earlier, she would've seen me sitting there with Livvie on my lap! So, seeing her with a guy... well, I figured it'd happen. But Jim Samuels? Jeez. Debbie saw me looking. "You know her?" she asked. "Kelly Cullinane. Known her since first grade." "She's in trouble," Deb said. "Hm?" "If she's with that ass Jim Samuels, she's in trouble. Guess who was the number one contributor to my reputation?" "Oh, shit, Deb," I said. "I knew he was an ass, but I didn't know he was a talker." "Like a fucking megaphone," Deb spat. "Oh, and he dumped me right after he'd gotten me in bed." And Kelly was with this asshole? Jeez. It took a couple of minutes for Kelly to look towards the stage and spot me, sitting on the edge tuning my guitar. She looked upset, but she walked over anyhow. "Hi, Eddie," she said. "Hi," I said back, then deliberately turned to my right and slightly behind me. "Deb, dear, are you done with my pitch pipe yet or what?" "Yes, boss," she smirked. "Here you go." I took my pitch pipe, blew an E, and went to tune my low E string. When I looked up, Kelly was gone. Good. I did not feel like making small talk with her. Not tonight, not if she was going out with that ass. Yeah, it was a brush-off, but... I probably would've said something. Which wouldn't have been smart. Anyhow, Livvie came back from the ladies' room shortly thereafter and I forgot all about Kelly and the Jerk. The place was starting to fill up. There were more adults there than I'd expected. There were a lot of people, though, adults and kids our age. Then it was time to play. Win introduced us. I stepped up to the mike. "This is a joyous occassion, a Christmas party. And we'll get all happy in a minute. But we'd first like to play a slower song. Twelve days ago, a man who was very important to the members of this band was killed. He was my idol, and basically the reason I took up the guitar. So, we'd like to start off with one of his songs." We'd discussed this--which Lennon song to play to start off with. Karen suggested "Imagine" but that was already a cliche. Since we were going to play some Christmas songs anyway, Stan suggested starting with "Happy Xmas (War Is Over)" but we decided to play that later on. I wanted to start with a song that was just Lennon, without the Christmas overtones. Michelle said, "It should be one of his hopeful songs. Maybe 'All You Need Is Love'?" I teasingly asked her if she had an orchestra to play along with us, because that song needed one. She suggested re-arranging it, and we thought about it. But that song was almost a cliche, as well. I joked that if we were going to start re-arranging Lennon songs with orchestral parts, I wanted to do "I Am The Walrus". Michelle hit me. Then Debbie, agreeing with the 'hopeful song' thing, came up with the perfect choice. She and I started it, me on electric and her on acoustic, playing almost in unison. I softly counted us in, and we hit it--the stately run of finger-picking that announces the beginning of "Dear Prudence". The room hushed. There was no dancing and little talking--just listening. I think there were a lot of Lennon fans in that room, because there were a few eyes that weren't quite dry. Including most of the band. But we nailed it, perfectly, right through. I was afraid I might be a little too emotional to get through the vocal, but I got through it fine. When Deb and I hit the little finger-pick on the outro, the place exploded. Then we started in on the promised Christmas Party--before the applause had died down, Stan hit the opening guitar riff, and we were off into "Jingle Bell Rock". What we had planned was, mostly, the setlist that we'd played at the dance. However, we'd made a few changes--Christmas songs. "Jingle Bell Rock" was just the first. We threw some stuff out of the original set and inserted Christmas songs in. We did "Rocking Around the Christmas Tree," which Michelle sang. I did a (barely) passable Elvis on "Blue Christmas". We worked up a little arrangement for "The Christmas Song" which I love singing. We did the Drifters' arrangement on "White Christmas" with Stan having a blast on the bass vocal part. Michelle did her best Darlene Love on "Christmas (Baby Please Come Home)" and also sang "Winter Wonderland". I worked up a rock and roll version of "Let It Snow" that kind of sounded like "Eight Days A Week"! We did "Rudolph" based on the Caddilacs' arrangement of it. Stan and I sang the Beach Boys' "Little Saint Nick," him on Mike Love's part and me on Brian Wilson's falsetto, to a great ovation. We did play "Happy Xmas (War is Over)" to applause and the odd tear or two. And we ended the whole shebang with a screaming take on "Run Run Rudolph," straight into Springsteen's arrangement of "Santa Claus is Coming to Town". Another successful gig for The Narcoleptics! About halfway through the first set, I noticed something--a cute girl I'd never seen before had worked her way over to the side of the stage, close to our esteemed keyboard player. When we went back up for the second set, she went right back to that spot and stayed there like she was rooted. After we finished "Rocket Man", I made sure to say into the mike, "On the piano, Kenny Russell!" The applause from a certain cute girl was rather enthusiastic. And I don't think our esteemed keyboard player minded the attention one little bit! I noticed Kenny chatting with her between the second and third set. And between the third and fourth set. And after the gig! While we were packing up, I went over to him. "So, what's up with that cute brunette that couldn't keep her eyes off the piano player?" He laughed. "Her name's Lisa. She's Winston's cousin, actually. She lives over in Salem. She seems really sweet." "Get her number?" I asked. "Her number, and a date for sometime over Christmas break," he smirked. Kenny was almost a year older than me, he'd been sixteen since back in February, so he already had his driver's license, the lucky dog. "That'll be my first date since I got my license," he said. "So much more convenient." "Don't rub it in," I said to his chuckle. "Anyhow, she's very cute." "She is," he agreed. "And, like I said, she seems very nice. I'm amazed. The girls are usually going for you damn guitar players." "I think Livvie had the 'don't bother, he's mine' sign on tonight," I laughed. "Yep. And you know Michelle did. I'm so glad the guitar players in this band are attatched. More groupies for the piano man!" DECEMBER 21st, 1980 I got a call around noontime from Kara. She was home for Christmas break. So I went over to visit for a while. It was great to see her. Mostly. Why only mostly? Well, Kara herself said it: "You know, I'm very glad to see you, but I'll admit it's not easy to sit here calmly talking to you. Part of me wants to jump you!" "I know what you mean," I laughed. "Though probably worse for you than me." She looked at me. "Well, I can go jump Olivia any ol' time I want. You won't see Peter for close to a month." "Yeah, that's part of it," she agreed. "Part of it?" She blushed a little. "Well, you know, I do love him, don't get me wrong. But when it comes to that, well, he's not quite up to your standard." I had to laugh--Kara grinned back. "He's getting better, mind you. And he does have certain advantages..." she trailed off, a full blush creeping up her face. "Advantages?" She shook her head. "C'mon, Kara, fess." "Well," she started, "uh, he's, well, he's got you beat in size." I had to laugh, while rolling my eyes. "I've spent enough time in locker rooms, most of the world has got me beat in size." "You're not self-conscious about it?" "Oh, very," I laughed. "You kidding me?" "Oh," she said. "Well, you have other major advantages. Stamina, for one. And recovery time. Even when you were thirteen. And that's not just with Peter, that's with every other guy I've been with. But the big problem Peter has is, well, other things." The full blush was back. "Ah," I laughed. "Are we referring to my magic tongue?" "Yes, we are," she laughed back. "Peter doesn't know quite how a clittie works. He either ignores it or tries to bite it off!" "He'll learn," I said. "Just keep giving him the verbal encouragement when he hits it right." "Yeah," she said. "I hope he learns. Either that or learns to last longer. I can climax vaginally, but not in a minute and a half!" "Well, I wish I were bigger, but I don't know if I'd trade that for stamina." "You wouldn't want to," she said. "I'll take the stamina any day." "He's young. You're his first. He'll learn." "You were better from the get-go," she said. "When we were at the get-go, we were using rubbers. That kills the sensitivity some. By the time we were on our second go-round and you were on the pill, I was far more experienced." "Good point," she said. "Since I'm on the pill, Peter and I have never used a rubber. And it's probably too late to suggest it." "No doubt. But he'll get better." "I hope so." Kara changed the subject. "I talked to Kelly this morning." "Yeah?" "She says that she was at that party you guys played last night." "Yeah." "She also said she tried to talk to you and you completely blew her off." "I guess I did," I admitted. "Look, if I had talked to her I would've ended up sticking my nose in her business and pissing her off." "Why?" "The guy she showed up with." "Jim? They've been going out for about a month. She says he's really sweet." "She's either smoking something, or she's desparate and lying to herself. Jim Samuel is so completely full of himself his ego has its own zip code." "Really?" "Yep. And that's not the worst of it. He's a talker." "A talker?" Kara asked. "Fuck and blab. If Kelly gives him what he wants, she'll end up with a reputation." "What makes you think that?" "Debbie," I said. Kara looked at me blankly. "The blonde in the band?" "Oh, yeah, Debbie. What about her?" "She's the school slut. That's her rep, anyhow. And she told me that Jim Samuel was the biggest contributor to that rep. Not the only, but the biggest. She also told me that after he screwed her, he wouldn't talk to her." "Oh, shit. So you really think this guy is bad news?" "Very bad news. And Kelly surely wouldn't have listened to me about it. And I couldn't just talk to her about small-talk shit and not say anything." "You're probably right. I'll try to see if I can say something to her." "I hope you can get her to listen," I said. DECEMBER 25th, 1980 Olivia, as I've said, didn't have much of a family life. Considering she didn't have much of a family. Christmas had never been anything special for her. So, this year, I invited her over to my house for Christmas. She was thrilled. Well, 'my house' meant just that in the morning, for the gift-opening, but we went over my Grandmother's for dinner. Livvie had a surprise for me. My Mom had offered to go get her, but she said she had that taken care of. I didn't know how--I didn't expect her mother to drive her over--but that was the surprise. She'd gotten her driver's license a couple weeks before, I knew that. Another older woman--she'd been 16 since May, and sixteen and a half was the driving age in MA. Anyhow, she got her license, but figured it would be kind of pointless because she didn't have anything to drive. Getting her mother's car wasn't going to happen. But her brothers surprised her. They'd really grown up since they moved out of that house. They got her a beater car, and the brother that was a mechanic fixed it up. It didn't look like much, but it ran well. That was their Christmas gift to her. She was surprised and very touched. So, she surprised me by showing up at my house at seven in the morning in her very own car. I had money. Not only that fifty grand I'd won on the Olympics, but I kept it up. I also had started investing a bit into the stock market. Knowing what stocks were going to explode was a nice little gift! I wasn't rich, but I had money. So, I made sure Livvie had a good Christmas. She didn't have nearly the money I did, but she was very good to me as well. After the gift-swap, we went to Gram's for the traditional feast. I'd missed Gram in the first life. She'd died in 1997, rather suddenly. She fell down at her house and broke her hip, and was in the hospital. Just a broken hip, right? She could heal from that, right? Well, the strain, plus the diabetes she'd had for 20 years, kicked her into kidney failure late one night. She was dead in minutes. So, it was nice to have her around again. I was the first grandchild, so she spoiled me rotten! Now, don't get me wrong--I loved her to pieces, but she could drive you up the wall. Especially my brother--she drove him up the wall until the day she died. She was the stereotypical Italian grandmother--smother, smother, smother. The woman could crawl right up your ass and lay down roots. Drove my brother crazy. I was a lot better, I didn't mind as much, and knew that Gram's heart was in the right place. But she really could be overbearing, if you didn't know her well. Livvie didn't know her well at all. In fact, they'd never met up until today. And it didn't matter. She attached herself to Livvie the minute we walked in. And Livvie ate it up with a spoon. Thirty seconds after I introduced them, Gram pulled Livvie into the kitchen to help with the cooking. She made Livvie baste the ham and mash the potatoes and help stuff the mushrooms and all of it. And Livvie couldn't stop grinning. Declan, my brother, was 12--and a smart 12, so I could talk to him about stuff. And, as I'd said, my Grandmother drove him nuts. So, after watching Gram two Livvie around the kitchen like a puppy on a leash, he plopped down next to me on the sofa in the living room. "God. Gram's going to drive your girlfriend right up the wall." "No, she's not." "Right! Did you see the two of them?" "I sure did. Look, Dec, you have to understand something. Livvie's mother is a useless drunk. And there's no father, no grandparents, nothing like that. All there is are two older brothers, and until recently they were pretty useless themselves. Livvie needs attention. She gets a lot from me, but that's different. Trust me on this. If Gram is doing the smothering Grandmother routine, Livvie's basking in it." "If you say so," Declan said, sceptically. About ten minutes later, Livvie proved my point. She came into the living room and plopped herself on my lap. "Oh, Eddie, your grandmother is so nice!" she enthused. I shot Declan a little grin. He just rolled his eyes at me! After we ate, and opened presents, Livvie and I decided to take a little drive. She was all excited that she finally had her license and a car. We drove around for a while. It was starting to get dark, so we cruised looking at Christmas lights. I'd always been a nut about Christmas lights. Livvie enjoyed them, too. "This has been the best Christmas of my life," she sighed happily. "You really liked my grandmother," I teased. "I did. She's awesome." We were driving near the Cabot Mall. All of a sudden, Livvie turned into the parking lot. She wasn't going to the mall, of course--it wasn't open on Christmas night. Livvie didn't say anything, she just headed through the parking lot and up the back of it. Then I realized--she knew about the parking spot. It was one I'd used in the first life. There was a road along the side of the parking lot in the mall, parallel to the highway. After a while, the road just ended, turning into a dirt path. However, you could still drive on the path, and it led to an area surrounded by woods, set way back away from anything. It was an excellent place to go parking. "My brother told me about this place," she said. "I've been waiting to get my license so I could take you here," she grinned. "Oh, really?" I teased. "Uh huh. Push your seat back as far as it will go." I did--it went back pretty far, this wasn't a compact car. As soon as I got my seat back, before I knew it, Livvie was kneeling in front of me and was undoing my jeans. Before I could say a word, she had my dick in her mouth! I'd not gotten a blowjob from Olivia. It just never seemed to work out that way. Generally, I went down on her--and by the time I'd done that for a bit she was begging me to fuck her. Not that I minded, mind you! But I'd never asked for a blowjob and she'd never offered. Well, she was offering now. Actually, she didn't offer--she just did it. And well. This might have been the first blowjob she'd given me, but I doubt it was her first ever. It was just too good. She made love to my dick with her mouth. And, when I looked down at her, she was looking up at me, her mouth in a small smile as it wrapped around my dick. It was that whole unbridled enthusiasm thing again. I mean, this was enthusiasm writ large. Livvie devoured my dick--and didn't take her eyes off me the whole time, looking up at me with a completely blissful expression on her face. It was fantastic. As I was starting to get worked up, she pulled off. She grinned up at me, nudging my dick with her cheek. "You know I love you, yes?" "Yes," I said, confused. "What's the difference between like and love?" she said with a little smile. "Uh, what?" "Spit and swallow." With that, she completely engulfed my dick in one stroke, and started pumping her mouth up and down on it. My GOD. It took about five seconds of that before I blasted her tonsils. And she was true to her word--she swallowed every drop. Shit, I came so much she probably gained five pounds! After I was done bathing her larynx, she pulled off and said, "Mmmm, dessert!" I had to laugh. "Dessert? Didn't you get enough Christmas cookies at Gram's?" "That was carbohydrates. This was protein." "Ah," I chuckled. "Livvie? That was unbelievable." "Glad you liked it. I figured, you've done me so many times that way, it was time to return the favor." "So I'll continue to keep doing you that way, right?" I laughed. "Well, no, but yes!" "Like I wouldn't anyway," I said. "I know," she laughed, then gave me this coy little grin. "So, does that mean you want to switch places?" I thought about that for a minute. Livvie was wedged in between my seat and the dashboard, down on her knees. She fit, but just barely--and she was about 5'4". I was well on my way to the 6'3" I'd top out at. "I think if we tried to switch places, I'd get stuck and never get out." "Oh," she said, disappointed. "Back seat," I quickly suggested. "Good idea!" We quickly got back there, and pushed the front seats all the way forward. As I said, this was a big car, so there was plenty of room. I took no time getting Livvie's pants off--and took even less time diving in. As much as I loved blowjobs, especially great ones--and I'd just gotten a great one--I think I liked pussy-eating better. For one thing, it was that enthusiasm thing--I liked nothing better than watching an enthusiastic girl have an orgasm. For another thing, I genuinely liked the feel--and taste--of a pussy on my tongue. For a third thing, it was a turn on. Pheromones and all that. I'd been drained limp by that fantastic blowjob, but after a couple minutes of my tongue in Livvie's cunny and I was an iron bar again. After a couple months of having sex with Livvie, I'd figured out what she liked. Her whole pussy was sensitive, so I didn't have to go right for the clit. Long licks down the middle of her labia got her going in a hurry. And if I did that long--and well--enough, when I did go for the clit, it was pretty damn explosive. As I've said, Livvie showed her mounting passion with ragged breathing and wheezing and the like. Which, in a shut-off cold car, you could see coming out of her mouth! But she must've been getting more comfortable with me, because she was getting more vocal. I still got the wheezing at the start, but, when she came, I got a very loud "nnnnnnggggggyyyyyYYYYEEEEEEEEE!!!" I loved it! I let her come down from that screaming orgasm--but not for long. Because she immediately hissed, "Get that thing in me! NOW!" I chuckled, reached in my pants for a rubber, slipped it on, and kneeled between her legs. "God!" she moaned as I slipped into her. Look, I know I'm in the minority in this one, but it's something I've felt since the first life--sex in the back seat of a car is vastly underrated. It gets a very bad rap. People say it's uncomfortable--but I never had a problem. Hell, in the first life, I'd had sex more times than I can count in a Hyundai and didn't have a problem! And this boat that Livvie's brothers had given her was no Hyundai. It was almost as big as the car my first-life best friend Walt used to drive; a 1971 Oldsmobile Delta 88. Shit, you could have probably had an orgy in that thing! For sure, you could have one couple fucking in the front seat and another couple sixty-nineing in the back seat--and I know that one for a fact because I was in the back seat. Livvie's car was a bit smaller than that Delta 88 tank--fucking in the front seat would've been a little tough--but there was plenty of room in the back seat. And, with enough room, fucking in a car is fun. First of all, you can get a good angle--she on the seat, slumped forward a bit, you on your knees. It was like fucking Kara on the couch, same kind of deal, only a little better--because Livvie got her feet up against the back of the front seat, which increased her leverage. It was a good platform for us to slam into one another. And the angle was good for both of us--I hit her clit square-on with every thrust. The other cool thing about sex in cars is that slight hint of danger. No matter how isolated you get, there's always a chance you might get caught. I liked that. I think Livvie did too. As Livvie got closer to her peak, I realized another cool thing about cars--decrease of inhibitions. It wasn't just that she was getting more comfortable with me, it was that she wasn't in her house. Though she knew her mother wouldn't say shit to her about us being in her bedroom, she must've still been inhibited enough to keep the noise down. Because, here in a car, as I pounded into her, she actually started screeching. And when she came? A flat-out scream. Featuring my name! And, well, I guess even I was a bit louder than usual when I came. Afterwards, still naked and cuddling on the back seat, Livvie looked up at me with a wicked grin and started softly singing, "All I want for Christmas is my boyfriend's cock, my boyfriend's cock, my boyfriend's cock..." I cracked up. "Well, then I guess it's a Merry Christmas." "Uh HUH!" JANUARY 10th, 1981 My sixteenth birthday, and a Saturday. I had nothing planned, really. I knew my parents were going to have cake and ice cream, and Livvie was coming over for that, plus supper beforehand. Then we'd probably go out. I'd been conditioned not to be a nut about birthdays. Why? Look at the date. Two weeks after Christmas. I was lucky anyone even remembered my birthday. My parents tried, but they were always tapped out. My wife in the first life had been worse--my birthday was just another day. Maybe I'd get a kiss and a card. Of course, if I dared forget her birthday--which was in the summer unencumbered by Christmas--I heard about it. Typical. Anyway... I was still conditioned not to make a big deal about my birthday. Even my sixteenth. Luckily, other people weren't so conditioned. There was a knock on the door just before noon. I went to open it, and there stood Stan, Michelle, and Debbie. The minute I opened the door, they started singing at the top of their lungs: "Da-na-na-na-na-na, YOU SAY IT'S YOUR BIRTHDAY! Da-na-na-na-na-na, IT'S MY BIRTHDAY TOO YEAH! Da-na-na-na-na-na, YOU SAY IT'S YOUR BIRTHDAY!..." You get the idea. I cracked up. And I think half the neighbors came outside to find out what the Godawful racket was! "Get your coat, asshole, we're taking you to lunch," Stan grinned. I grabbed my coat, and we all piled into Stan's car. He'd had his license for a month or so. "So, where you taking me to lunch, Vetsy's Subs?" I joked. That was Stan's father's sub shop. "I never go in that place unless I have to," Stan said. "No, we figured the Ground Round would be cool." "I love that place," I said. So that's where we went. It was great, and the gang pitched in for my meal. We had a great time, laughing and joking. "So, the baby of the group has finally hit sixteen," Stan teased. "Yep, and I'm sure Olivia is very relieved she's no longer committing statutory rape on poor innocent underaged Eddie," Michelle joked. "Yeah, right," I said. "It's funny when you think about it," Stan said. "I don't think you've ever had sex with a girl who wasn't older than you." I just looked at him. "Well, I know of four girls you've had sex with, and they were all older." "Well, there's been five," I said. "And the one that you don't know about is the only one that was younger," I laughed. "Do tell," Stan laughed. "I didn't know there was a fifth." "She doesn't live anywhere near here and it only happened once," I said. "Let's just leave it at that. But she's a year younger than I am. Heck, very few people know who the other four are. I don't fuck and tell. I think the only people that know all four are you guys, Olivia, and Kara." "I only know two," Debbie said. "You've told me about Kara. Livvie is obvious," she grinned. "Since you're trustworthy, and one of my best friends, I'll tell you. One of them I should probably tell you anyhow. But the other was was Christine Seneca." "You are kidding," Debbie gasped. "Little Miss Priss?" "Not hardly," Michelle snorted. "That's only for public consumption. She's not prissy at all." "Though our relationship was a big mistake," I said. "Anyhow, the one I should tell you? Kelly Cullinane." "Oh, shit. The girl that was with Jim Samuels at Win's party?" "Yep." "Oh, man," Debbie hissed. "What's this about?" Stan asked. Debbie and I explained to Stan and Michelle what we were talking about. "From you to Jim Samuels? Talk about moving way down in the world," Michelle laughed. We chatted all through lunch, then we went back to my place, just chatting and joking. After a while, my Mom came in. "Well, I know Olivia is coming over, but were you planning on having all these guys for supper and cake as well?" "Oh, no, Mrs. Bovilas, you don't have to go through any trouble for us," Stan said. Michelle and Debbie nodded agreement. "No trouble at all," Mom told them. "I'm making spaghetti and there's plenty. And since we're talking about Eddie here, I bought a big cake. Chocolate, even." Everyone laughed at that. "I'm sure Eddie would like you to stay, even if it does cut down on his cake leftovers." "I will definitely live," I said. "I'd love you guys to stay. And my mother's spaghetti sauce is to die for." "Convinced me," Debbie grinned. "OK if I call my Mom?" She did so, as did Michelle and Stan. The parents all agreed. Shortly after they got off the phone, Livvie showed up. I told them that the gang had taken me out for lunch. "Wasn't that nice!" she said. We all gathered around to get supper. My parents, brother and sister, and grandmother were all there. Afterwards, we had the cake. The family did get me some presents, as did Olivia. Afterwards the five of us decided to all hit a movie. We went to see "The Competition", a Richard Dreyfuss-Amy Irving romance about two people in a classical piano competiton. It was a decent movie and I'd always liked it. And afterwards, Livvie and I went parking. It was a very good birthday! FEBRUARY 11, 1981 A Wednesday. Typical school day. Not. In the morning, in between classes, I stumbled into a bathroom. The urinals were occupied so I went into a stall. Shit. Shit. Shit. It was in big black letters: "KELLY CULLINANE IS A SLUT!!!" I went out and grabbed a paper towel and wet it in the sink. It didn't work--it wasn't coming off. Curious, I looked in a couple of the other stalls. In the first one: "KELLY CULLINANE GIVES GREAT HEAD!" In the second one: "FOR A GOOD TIME, CALL KELLY CULLINANE!" Shit. I had to tell her, didn't I? Well, she might already know, but I had to make sure, didn't I? Yeah, I did. At lunch time, I hung around the entrance to the cafeteria, looking for her. I spotted her right off. "Kelly?" "Eddie? What do you want?" "I need to talk to you." "Why?" She obviously would rather not talk to me. "Look, Kelly, it's really important." "OK," she sighed. We went out in the hall and I lead her to a quiet spot. "I hate to be the one to tell you this, but you really should know. Before last period, I stopped in the men's room on the second floor. Kelly, I found graffiti on the stalls. With your name in it." "What?" she hissed. "Yeah. Three different stalls. I tried to get it off but I couldn't." "What did it say?" she croaked in a near-whisper. I told her. The poor girl turned white. "I'm sorry, Kel, but I thought you should know." "I know. Thanks for telling me." "You know who did this, right?" "Yes," she hissed. "Jim. He dumped me a week ago. I should've listened to Kara." She looked at me. "Kara got her information from you, didn't she?" "Yeah. I knew you wouldn't listen to me. I hoped you'd listen to her." "I should have." She took a breath. "Eddie, why?" I knew what she was asking me. I gave her a little grin. "I still consider you a friend, Kel. You should know that." She looked dumbfounded. But all she said was, "Thanks." Then she turned and went back into the cafeteria. I looked up and saw Livvie standing there. "What was that about?" So, I told her. "Damn, poor Kelly. I'm glad you let her know, at least." Damn. I thought I'd get the riot act for talking to an old girlfriend. Livvie really was something else. ------- Chapter 15: What's Your Name? Who's Your Daddy? FEBRUARY 24th, 1981 We all came up with the idea, but Livvie and Debbie, the most daring of us, actually did the deed. Debbie wanted to get back at the asshole for some time, and we were all appalled that he'd tried to ruin another girl's reputation. Livvie even said, "I know she's your ex-girlfriend, and I know the breakup hurt you, but Beth told me that Kelly was a sweetheart." So, we put our plan to action. We--including Stan and Michelle--brainstormed on what to do. So, on this day, Debbie and Livvie made their way into one of the girls' bathrooms at Cabot High, early in the morning before school started, with a permanent marker. Stan, Michelle, and I hovered outside the girls' room, nonchalantly talking, to warn them if trouble came. Nobody came. They picked three stalls like the asshole did. On one, they wrote, "JIM SAMUEL HAS A TWO-INCH DICK!" On the second, they wrote, "JIM SAMUEL IS A LOUSY LAY!" And on the third, "FOR A TWO-MINUTE FUCK AND A CASE OF THE CLAP, CALL JIM SAMUEL!" The two girls came out all jubilant. "Done!" Debbie enthused. We all high-fived. Then we separated to head to our lockers, and then our first classes. At lunch, the five of us were sitting together. While we were eating and chatting, I saw Kelly headed over to us. She leaned over to me and whispered, "Are you the one that did it?" "It was all of our idea. Livvie and Debbie actually did it," I told her. "Thanks," she said, softly, to all of us, with a little grin. Then she was gone. Of course, I got a phone call that night from Kara. Kelly had called her and told her all about it. She thought it was hilarious! After Kara hung up, I got a call from Michelle. It sounded like something was bothering her. After the small talk, she asked about it. "Do you still have feelings for Kelly?" "Oh, I think I always will," I told her. "Well, what if she wants you back?" "Well, I've got Olivia now." "I guess that's what worries me," Michelle said. "I think Olivia's really into you." "Oh," I said, understanding. "Well, you have to understand my number one dating rule. Never break up with someone to go out with someone else. If the relationship is breaking up anyway, for internal reasons, that's one thing. But to dump someone just because you're attracted to someone else? That's not kosher in my book." "Really?" "The way I see it is this: if you're happy, you shouldn't be looking. And if you're not happy, why are you in the relationship in the first place?" "I never thought of it that way," Michelle said thoughtfully, "but it makes a lot of sense." "Yeah. And, furthermore, when it comes to Kelly in particular--well, yes, I'll always have feelings for her. But considering how it ended, I'm not quite sure I trust her." "Yeah." "In either case, Livvie has nothing to worry about." "Good!" APRIL 15th, 1981 This was a Wednesday, in the middle of April vacation. The previous two months had been fairly uneventful. We'd played another school dance, killing them again. Olivia and I had gotten closer and closer. I was surrounded by good friends. My grades were excellent. In fact, if we graduated this minute, I'd be salutatorian. Heck, I'd been through high school before--and at a tougher school. I hoped I'd remember a few things. There were two things that were interesting about my second-in-the-class standing. The first one was that the person ahead of me wasn't Christine Seneca. She was only ranked eighth or so. The potential valedictorian was a girl I knew only slightly by the name of Laura Benning. She was ahead of me because of one A-minus I'd gotten first semester this year in pre-calculus. The other one was the person directly behind me, the person ranked third. That was a certain sexy bass player. And, yes, she teased me all the time. "How about another A-minus so I can be salutatorian?" I told her to keep dreaming. I also told her that I was going to unplug her bass at the next gig! All of this really wouldn't be decided until next year, though--Advanced Placement classes Senior year tended to separate the contenders from the pretenders. Did it matter to me? A little. I wouldn't be crushed if I didn't get it, but it would be nice. The band was also going well. We'd played another dance and a couple of parties. We were really making a name for ourselves around the high school. And then there was Olivia. I was happy being with her--really happy. We got along great, my family and friends all liked her a lot, and we had fun together. And the sex was wonderful. This day, April 15th, as I said, was in the middle of April vacation. Vacation weeks had turned out to be interesting--Olivia was at my house all the time. I understood why, and didn't mind--and, besides which, I liked her being around all the time. My parents understood as well and liked her being there as well. We didn't have sex at my house--I did have a ten-year-old sister, after all--but our relationship wasn't just about sex. We had places to go to do that--the only time we ever spent at her house was when we were fooling around. And we still had her big ol' boat of a car! Anyhow, on this day, she came over early, about 10 AM. It was a lifting day for me, and I'd already done that. Livvie knew not to come over too early, since she had no desire to lift or run with me! Yep, I still did both--and, since I'd been sent back, the exercise had paid major dividends. Every time I took my shirt off, Livvie gasped--trust me, that'd never happened in the first life! So, Livvie knew I'd get up, run or lift, and then get some breakfast. She knew by 10 I'd be all set, so that's when she came over. When she got here on this day, my dad was in work, my mother was in our backyard working on her garden, and my sister was out playing with Terri McKenna, who lived next door. Declan, my brother, was around. He gave me a lopsided grin when he saw Olivia and I greet each other with a big kiss. Declan would be 13 in a month. He was in seventh grade. So, he was at that age where he was just starting to discover girls. If things held to the first time, he was going to have as tough a time of it as I did. He was a nerd as well. Now, things got better for him in college--he was a hell of a lot luckier in college than I ever was--but in junior high and high school--he went to the Prep as well--he wasn't any luckier than I had been. Though part of that was missed opportunities. We'd discussed that in adulthood. With the hindsight of growing up, he'd decided that his big high school crush, Maureen Feeney, most likely liked him back but he was too much of a dork at the time to do anything except moon over her. Hell, they worked together and half the place knew he liked her, and she was still extremely nice to him and talked to him all the time--at that age, that's a big huge honkin' sign. Of course, at that age, you never see those signs. Youth truly is wasted on the young. He also found out in adulthood that our neighbor Lisa McKenna, Terri's older sister--and the younger sister of Josephine, who I'd dated--would've slept with him, which was his longtime recurring wet dream. And I was the one that told him, because she told me she would've slept with him. Of course, she told me that after he'd gone to school in Baltimore and was living there, and she was on her way into the Air Force. In other words, too late for him to do anything about it! That's one thing I've noticed, the things you figure out when it's too late. Me, too, though for me it was in college. Maggie Konolowicz must've thought I was the most clueless human in the history of humans, especially male-type humans. I did have a furious makeout session with her at her instigation, which most likely would've led to me losing my virginity if we hadn't been interrupted and had someplace to be--but it was three weeks before I left that particular college never to return. And I'd known her since day one of freshman year. I could've been humping the daylights out of her for the whole two years I was there. Teenagers are stupid. And nerdy teenagers--trust me on this one--assume they're going to get shot down, which makes us stupider. I had realized how much I had changed by now being aware of all of this. Now, it might not look that way--because Kelly had approached me, not the other way around, and with Livvie I'd been tipped off by Debbie. But, there's two things. First, the 'old' Eddie might not have even believed Debbie. And the second one was, this still all stemmed from Kara, who I did approach. If I didn't have the guts to approach Kara, none of the rest of it would've happened. I had the confidence to ask her out, and the smarts to do it the right way this time--but my relationship with her, especially the first time, let me know I was on the right track. And my relationship with her worked because of the past memories. And I knew I could pass on the past memories, in a roundabout way. Now, I had no desire, nor the time, to be the date consultant for all of Nerddom. However, if I could help Declan, my cool (as little brothers go) little brother have better luck with the girls, I'd be glad to. So, when after he watched Livvie and I engage in a huge kiss, and then we sat on the couch in the den across from Dec, I understood that the next thing he said wasn't just simple teasing. It was a real question. "Olivia, what the hell do you see in him, anyway?" "Well, let's see," she grinned, "he's smart. He's wonderful to talk to--interesting, can hold up his end of a conversation like nobody else, and he's a great listener. He's sweet and treats me like a princess. He's funny. And he's, er, welll..." She blushed bright red. "He's what?" Declan asked innocently. I had to laugh. "Livvie, Declan isn't a little kid. And he's not naive." "OK," she said, still blushing. "The truth is, your brother's fantastic in bed, OK?" Now it was Declan's turn to blush! "Yeah, well, but you didn't know that before you went out with him, so that wouldn't be a reason to go out with him." "Well, you're right in that you don't want to go out with someone just because of that," Livvie agreed. "But, actually, I did know. Word gets around." Declan looked at her blankly. "Your brother doesn't talk, because he's a good guy--but some of his previous girlfriends did." "I'm still missing something," Dec said. "Well, at a Fourth of July party the first summer we went out, after eighth grade, Kara pretty much told all of her friends that I was Superstud," I admitted it. "Oh, Jesus," Declan laughed. "Wait a minute--you slept with Kara way back then?" "Yes." "You weren't much older than me!" "True." "I figured I'd be a virgin until I was thirty. Honestly, I'm surprised you're not headed there. How did you get Kara to sleep with you? Heck, how did you get her to go out with you?" "Getting her to go out with me, well, that was because I made a decision. I stopped acting like an idiot every time I was around her. I'd see her a lot when running, and I just talked to her normally. Then, when I went to ask her out, I did it in person. Also, I had to kind of talk her into it--but I was calm and reasonable when I did it. "As for sleeping with her?" I told him with a smile. "I don't know. I didn't push anything physical. That was all Kara. She said she wanted to have sex a week before we actually did. I turned her down because I didn't have any rubbers. But she made all the decisions when it came to that. I don't know why, to tell you the truth. Something about me attracted her to that. I do know she trusted me a lot, and that helped." "That was part of it," Livvie said, "but I know something else." "How do you know anything?" I asked her. "Something Kara once told Beth, and Beth spilled the beans to me. And now that I'm going out with you, I know that Kara was right on." She turned to Declan with a big grin. "Your brother, you see, is a completely awesome kisser!" OK, I know I was blushing at that! Declan was just grinning at both of us. "Wait a minute," I said, "Kara told Beth this?" "Yeah. You know they were in home ec together that year," she said. I nodded. "After you slept with Kara for the first time, I know Beth was the one person you told." I nodded again. Livvie grinned at Declan. "Like I said, it was Kara that told the rest of the world. Anyhow, Beth asked Kara what made her decide she wanted to go that far with you at that age. You know Beth, she wasn't critical or anything--but you know how she was. Sex at 13 was completely beyond her." "Yeah," I agreed. "When I told her, she dropped her books all over the railroad tracks and stared at me in complete disbelief." "I believe it," Livvie laughed. "Anyhow, when Beth asked Kara that, Kara told her that she knew she was going to sleep with you at the end of your first date, when you kissed her. She told Beth that that kiss made her completely wet! She also told Beth that the kisses after that just made it worse." "Wow. I never knew this," I said. "Yep. And I can agree with it." She looked at Declan again. "Declan, Eddie wasn't my 'first'--you know what I mean." Declan nodded. "But I have to tell you--kisses from him turn me on more than actual sex did with a couple of my past boyfriends." Declan was still blushing, and he grinned again at Olivia. "But how did you get to be such a good kisser?" he asked me. "I have no idea," I laughed. "It's all instinct. Kara was the second person I ever kissed." Olivia looked at me questioningly. "Cyndi Gagnon," I told her. "Anyhow, Dec, it's all instinct. And I didn't know I was that good until right now." "Yeah, and with my luck, I probably stink," Declan whined. "Have you ever kissed a girl?" Livvie asked him. "No." Livvie shot me a look. I knew exactly what her eyes were saying. And I thought it might be good for Declan--so I nodded at Livvie. "Declan. Would you like a lesson?" Livvie asked him. He just looked at her blankly. "Well, you could practice by kissing me." "Really? I could?" Oh, his eyes lit up like a Christmas tree! It was very amusing. Yes, he had a crush on Livvie--I'd known that for a while. "Sure. Come on over on the couch next to me," Livvie said. I scooted over to make room for Declan. He shot me a questioning look, but I just waved to him to go ahead. "Wait a minute," I said. I got up and looked out the window. "Just making sure Mom is occupied," I told them. "She's knee-deep in tomato plants, so we're all set." "Good. Now. A few tips?" Livvie asked. Declan nodded. "OK. Not too hard and not too soft. Don't take it over--I should feel you kissing me but you should also feel me kissing you back. And you don't start with the tongue, you have to work up to that." Declan blushed again at that! "Ready?" Declan nodded shakily. I bet the poor kid's hands were clammy as hell at this point. "OK," Livvie said, "put your hands on my shoulders. And then go for it." He did--nervous as hell, no doubt, but he did it. So, there I was, watching my girlfriend kiss my little brother. Did it bother me? Make me jealous? Nah. My 13-year-old brother wasn't any threat. And Livvie was just trying to boost his confidence. But, shit, that was a looooong kiss. And I do believe I saw a bit of tongue at the end! And, when Livvie finally pulled away, I must admit that it was rather amusing. She was flushed! And looking at Declan like he had three heads. "OK," she finally got out, "it runs in the family. Boy does it run in the family." "You mean it was OK?" Declan asked, blushing beet red. "Oh, it was more than OK," Livvie grinned. "You've got nothing to worry about. Wait until the girls figure it out. You'll be fighting them off." "Really? Wow! Thanks, Livvie." "My pleasure," she grinned. At that, Declan scampered out of the room. I heard him head upstairs. Livvie finally looked at me. I was grinning at her. "Sorry. I think I got carried away," she said sheepishly. "No problem. You made his day. You do realize he's now upstairs whacking off, right?" "Oh, Jesus," she hissed. "He's only 13? And that was his first kiss?" "Not even 13. Next month. And yes." "Unbelievable." She had a wry little grin. "He's not in your league, of course, but it was a hell of a lot closer than I ever would've dreamed. I wasn't kidding. It must run in the family." "I'm glad you did it, and I'm glad he knows. I had to figure out a lot of this shit by myself, and Declan is on his way to being as much of a nerd as I was. At least he knows he's got a secret weapon." "Does he ever." "And that will give him confidence." "Which is what I was hoping. Since he's your brother, I figured he wouldn't be hopeless, at least, so I'd be able to say nice things without lying." "You did that." "Uh-huh," she grinned. She slid over to me on the couch and put her arms around me. "Your turn," she said. Our lips met. And it was a good one. "Just trying to reassure yourself that I'm better than my little brother?" I joked. "Oh, I knew that," she smiled, "no doubt. He's good but not that good. No, it was that if I'm going to be horny, it's going to be because of you." "Uh-huh," I said with a laugh. "Now. Weren't we going to hang out with your friends up the street today?" "Yes." "Then let's go," she said. "If we don't go distract ourselves, I'm going to jump your bones. Probably just in time to get walked in on by your mother, or sister, or both." "Good point," I chuckled. "Later for that." "Oh, you betcha." We were going to hang out up at the Neelands. The gang up the street had met Livvie once or twice, but only briefly. While we walked up the street, hand-in-hand, I was thinking. Honestly, I was thinking--what had I just done? Declan, in adulthood, when I got 'sent back', was very happily married. His wife, Libby, was a doll. They had two kids. They were living in California. By giving him the confidence to possibly start his romantic and sexual life earlier than he had, would I have fucked that up? And there was more. When he originally graduated from high school, he wanted to go to art college--specifically, Skidmore, in Saratoga Springs, NY. He got in, but didn't get nearly enough financial aid. So, he went to Boston College. He hated it, and, after a year, transferred to an art college he could afford: the Maryland Institute College of Art in Baltimore. He loved it there. By fixing 'the Eye', I'd made it so my family had a lot more money than they had the first time--so, he'll probably be able to afford Skidmore. Would that change his life, irreparably? And for better or worse? I didn't know. I did think I remembered that he really didn't discover MICA until he was stuck at BC. All I remember from his senior year was Skidmore. I guess, if money looks like it isn't going to be an object, I'll just have to somehow suggest he put MICA on the list and let him decide. I'd been with him on the visit to Skidmore, though. It was a gorgeous place and art was very well supported there. He would've been happy there, too, I think. See what I mean about the ethics of time travel? Declan had grown up to be a happy adult. But he wasn't a happy teenager the first time. Who knew what can of worms I'd just opened? Then again, I'd done that just by living my life. Since I was a complete washout with girls at this age the first time around, Declan didn't have to live with the knowledge that his big brother was getting laid. He didn't have a 'big brother's girlfriend' type like Olivia to have a crush on. He had been too young, I think, to really know just what I was doing with Kara and Kelly--but he knew what I was doing with Olivia. Or, at least, had deeply suspected it--and Livvie, by telling him how good I was in bed, had just confirmed it. Just by being with Olivia I'd changed the way he thought. And now I was giving myself a headache. We got up to the Neelands just in time to save my sanity. DeeDee and Lynne were outside on the picnic table in their back yard--it was a nice day--along with Dee's friends Penny and Melissa, plus one more person. I was glad to see Dee and Lynne--was less than crazy about Penny and Melissa. But I'd deal with them. The girls were a bit younger--Penny was 15, Michelle and Dee still 14. They were all freshmen at Cardinal Steen High School. Lynne was even younger still, she'd just turned 12. Now, Dee had known Penny and Michelle all through elementary school, at St. Joseph's. But, of course, Dee had met new people at Cardinal Steen. That's who the other girl was that was there with them, a new person Dee had met. Her name was Ashley Donegal. I, of course, remembered her from the first life. In fact, she was the only one of that crowd that I still saw quite a bit in adulthood, as she came into the store where I worked all the time. Ashley was a sweetheart, one of the nicest people you'll ever meet. I was glad to be reintroduced, so to speak, to her. But she did take a little getting used to. And since I hadn't seen her since a few months before the rewind, I had to get used to her all over again. It was her voice, you see. She whined. I mean, she really whined--her natural speaking voice was a whine, it wasn't for effect. It reminded me of Penny Marshall on "Laverne and Shirley" when she'd go into 'whining' mode--except Ashley talked like that all the time. And it was actually worse at 14 than I remember it had been when she was an adult, which was the last time I'd seen her, remember. So, there I was, being reintroduced to the adolescent Ashley Donegal whine. I had to hold in the chuckle. It's true, some things never change! However, she was still sweet. So, I 'got acquainted' with Ashley all over again. We hit it off, as friends, just as we had the first time. As an added bonus this time around, she also hit it off immediately with Livvie. Which was amusing--because I'd been in Ashley's house the first time around and I remembered what it looked like. Not quite as unbelievable as Win Craymore's, but close. I could imagine Ash inviting Livvie to her house, and Livvie's jaw dropping! Ash was as unpretentious as you could get--but her family did have money and lots of it. Anyhow, Ash gravitated right to Livvie and I. That's when I realized something. Ash didn't much care for Penny. Now, seeing it through my wizened eyes, I remembered tension from the first time around--with poor Dee caught in the middle. But as for Ashley not liking Penny, that was just another thing to like about Ashley as far as I was concerned! None of us had eaten lunch, so Olivia, Dee and her three friends, and I decided to trudge down to the McDonalds in Cabot Square. Not too long of a walk, though it wasn't next door either. Lynne decided she didn't want to walk, so she stayed home. We started walking, and Livvie started teasing me. "Look at this, Eddie. You walking down the street with five girls. If anyone that knows you drives by, they're gonna think you've got a harem!" Everyone giggled at this--except for Penny, of course, who was scowling. "Speak for yourself! I'd never be any part of a harem of his!" "Your loss," Livvie said sweetly. "Did I mention that he's really, really good in bed?" I know I blushed at that one! Penny was still scowling. Everyone else was still giggling. "Livvie, darling," I told her, "I'm good in bed one-on-one. Five at once would tax even my stellar abilities for sure. And probably kill me while I'm at it." "Yeah, but what a way to go," Ashley interjected, reigniting the giggles. "Ah, you're just sick of him and trying to foist him off on one of us," Penny maintained. "You should be so lucky," Livvie teased, keeping it up. "Seriously, I am by no means sick of him and I certainly don't share. Which is becoming a problem. Especially at gigs. I have to make sure I latch myself onto him after every gig to ward off the rampaging hordes of groupie wannabes." Dee, who knew about The Narcoleptics, giggled--but everyone else looked at Livvie quizically. "What are you talking about?" Penny said impatiently. "Eddie is a member of the most popular rock group at Cabot High," Livvie informed her. "They only played their first gig in October, and they're already getting asked to do all the dances and parties." "Yeah, we've got a party Saturday night." "Right," Livvie agreed. "And since Eddie's one of the two lead singers, he's really good, and the other lead singer is female--well, that means all the girls swarm all over him after every gig!" "He's good?" Penny snorted disbelievingly. "He's fantastic," Livvie said. "The whole band is. But the girls are starting to swarm. Over him and Stan, the lead guitar player. Michelle and I have to practically throw up a roadblock after the gigs!" "Michelle is our bass player, and the other lead singer besides me," I told the rest of them. "She and Stan are going out. Of course, Livvie, in their case, it's more that Stan has to keep the guys away from Michelle!" "Too true," Livvie agreed with a laugh. "Of course, that could easily be solved if she wore some clothes to a gig once in a while." "There is that," I chuckled. I told the rest of them, "Michelle Pepper, in school, is this demure, sweet little straight-A student. When we're playing? She shows up in these skimpy little spaghetti-strap shirt things and tight miniskirts and the whole bit. It's like she goes into a phone booth and changes into Sexy Rock Chick. Plus she's gorgeous, and she's stacked. I mean, trying to squeeze those boobs of hers into those little low-cut flimsy tops--man, it's like Cleavage Fest '81 up there. And she's pounding on the bass with the cleavage wiggiling and jiggiling and all. And there's her boyfriend, standing next to her, watching her while he wails away at the guitar with this huge shit-eating grin on his face." "It's something to see, all right," Livvie grinned. "But how do you feel that your boyfriend just admitted to noticing another girl's boobs?" Penny said to Livvie, clearly baiting her. Livvie knew better. "Hell, since I've seen her playing in those outfits--if he didn't notice her boobs, he'd have to be completely blind!" "Besides which," I added, "I've seen Livvie in a tight skimpy top. Screw that, I've seen Livvie completely naked. And Michelle doesn't have much of anything on Livvie in the boob area." "Oh, how sweet," Livvie cooed, cracking everyone up. "So, there's a girl in this band?" Ashley said. "Three," I told her. "Four guys, three girls. There's Michelle. Then there's Karen, who's one of our two keyboard players. She dates Dave, the drummer. The third girl is Debbie, who plays guitar and saxophone." "Who does Debbie date?" Dee asked. "Cabot High," Livvie and I both said in perfect unison. Then we cracked up. "You've heard of a little black book?" Livvie asked. "Debbie's got a big black book." "It's funny." I said. "Before we started this band, Deb was known as the school slut. She wasn't, really, but she certainly wasn't a virgin and she'd been with a couple of guys that had big mouths. And all the taunting and stuff really bothered her. But now she's in this band, and she's fantastic and plays multiple instruments. So she's not being taunted about being the school slut anymore--people talk more about her saxophone playing. But now she almost is the school slut!" "Oh, it's funny. She picks up a different guy every gig," Livvie laughed. "What I like about her is she's attracted to nerds," I said. "Of course you like that," Livvie teased--before Penny could more nastily, and Livvie knew it. "Shaddap. Anyhow, I watched her after a gig a couple weeks ago. Walked right past all the muscle-bound jock types, and grabbed a nerd." "Knowing Debbie, it was probably the best night of his life," Livvie laughed. "I think I need to see this band," Ashley said. "I know," Dee agreed. "We'll figure out a way," I told them. MAY 22nd, 1981 Tonight was the Junior Prom. Nope, we didn't play it. They had a DJ. That was fine with us--we all wanted to go to the prom and dance. We all sat together. Olivia and I, Stan and Michelle, Dave and Karen. Kenny brought Lisa, Win Craymore's cousin that he'd met at Win's party. Yup, they'd been going out since that night. Debbie came with John Roy, a guy I knew slightly. We had a great time. It was funny--I guess I'd never really thought about it before, but our positions in the band reflected our personalities. By that, I mean front-liners and back-liners. The three that played instruments that had to be stuck in place, like drums and keyboards, were in the back line when we played--Dave, Karen, and Kenny. The other four of us were in front. What I meant about that reflecting our personalities is that those of us in the front were by far more outgoing than the back-liners. Debbie was the most outgoing, followed by me, Stan, and Michelle. Kenny and Dave were quiet. Not shy, but quiet. Karen was shy--before the band started, almost painfully so. The band, plus her burgeoning relationship with Dave, had opened her up some--but she was still pretty shy. This even extended to the dates those of us not dating someone in the band chose. Livvie had been isolated, some of it self-isolation, due to her poverty--but she wasn't inherently shy. Since we'd been dating, she wasn't shy at all. We didn't know John, Debbie's date, very well before the prom, but he turned out fit the pattern as well--in fact, he was very funny. Kenny's girlfriend Lisa, on the other hand, was shyer than Karen. How those two got together at all is a mystery--since she pursued it that night at Win's party, and Kenny had since told us even she couldn't explain where she got the gumption. It was totally unlike her. Those two just had an unfathomable connection that Lisa had felt since the first minute she saw him--and Kenny had figured it out later that night. That was the one bold move I think Lisa had ever made in her life. She came to most of the band practices and barely said a word to anyone outside of Kenny. Livvie, the other 'band widow', got her to talk a little bit. So did I, every so often. The rest of us? Not much at all. Especially Debbie. Lisa was, Kenny had told us, scared to death of Debbie. And to some extent Michelle as well. I guess confident outspoken girls just intimidated the shit out of her. But we'd tried to get to know her, for Kenny's sake. Kenny was a gold-plated Good Guy. So, if he was in love with this girl, then she was in. She was One Of Us. Even if she didn't talk to most of us--but it would be easier if she did. She'd loosened up slightly--especially, as I said, to Livvie. And Livvie told me once that she thought Lisa got very, very lucky--because Livvie had figured out that Lisa was starved for connection, didn't know how to go about it, and would probably do just about anything to get it. Especially a boy-girl connection. In other words, this girl was ripe to be taken advantage of, big time, if her longing had led her to an asshole. Livvie, unfortunately, knew how that went from personal experience. Fortunately for Lisa, her longing led her right off the bat to Kenny, who was anything but an asshole. As I said, Kenny was pretty quiet--but anything you needed to know about Kenny you could find out just by listening to him play the piano. Especially if he was just playing for himself--it really came out then--but you could hear it in the band, too, if you were listening for it. Kenny's piano playing was soulful, heartfelt, and beautiful. Don't get me wrong, he was technically proficient as well, very much so--the only better 'technical' musician in the band was Michelle--but it was more important that he had soul. He had buckets full of it. Somehow, shy isolated inexperienced Lisa figured this out the minute she saw him--which is like a miracle if you think about it. So, that was the cast of characters for the prom. We got a limo--actually, we got two limos. With ten of us, we needed two. It divided up the way you'd figure it--Stan, Michelle, Debbie, John, Livvie and I in one limo, the other four in the other. Every parent wanted pictures. Even Livvie's mother stayed sober enough to snap off a roll, amazingly enough. Of course, the girls looked great. Of course, Livvie looked the best. Of course, I'm biased! But she really did look fantastic--she wore a lavender short-sleeved thing with a full skirt and a nice plunging neckline. Oh, and it was nice and tight right below the plunging neckline. Yes, I'm a pig--so sue me. Since the six of us in that limo were all comfortable with one another--well, except for John, but he caught up in no time--even Stan felt compelled to tell Livvie, "Nice dress. Shows off your boobs really well." Of course, he said this before Michelle got in the limo. Stan's not stupid! As for Michelle, she chose burgundy. Slinky burgundy, with spaghetti straps, and a straight skirt slit halfway up the side. Great makeup job and her long brown hair piled upon her head. In other words, she managed to find a dress that screamed "classy!" and "sexbomb!" at the same time. Typical Michelle! As for Debbie, she went straight for sexbomb. Not that it wasn't classy--most prom dresses get that, especially in 1981--but that wasn't the overall effect. For one thing, the dress, a cream-colored thing, was strapless. How a girl with a set of 36D boobs managed to pull off a strapless gown just completely defied gravity. And, no, she wasn't wearing a bra--she told me so. The gown had some support--but for those tits? Couldn't have been much. And they still didn't sag. She told me, "I'm not going to be able to get away with that when I'm thirty, not with these tits. So I might as well enjoy it while I can!" And the gown being strapless created a hell of an effect. You see, Deb was tall--5'10" or so. With the heels she had on, she was almost as tall as I was. And she was long, all over--long legs, yes, and the straight skirt on the dress helped that out too. But she also had a long neck. Wearing a strapless gown with her hair, like Michelle's, piled up on top of her head--she had a really long neck. Plus, she had a bit of 'aristocratic' to her features. She looked like a blonde Katharine Hepburn. It was funny--the limo had picked up us guys first, then the girls one-by-one: Olivia, Michelle, and then Deb. And John had obviously enjoyed the sight of Livvie and Michelle--but when Deb walked out of her house, the poor guy was completely gobsmacked. Hell, I was more than happy with the gorgeous bundle of Olivia tucked in my arm, but I was gobsmacked! Even Stan took a good long look--and Michelle didn't give him any shit, because she was looking in amazement herself! I know a lot of it was that none of us had ever seen Deb dressed anything like that. Now, though I'd never seen Livvie or Michelle dressed in anything like a prom dress, I had seen them dressed nicely. Even what Michelle wore for gigs, it wasn't as classy as the prom dress, but it was sexy and alluring and nice to look at. Some of Livvie's outfits were like that--and Livvie had a definite yen for skirts. Deb didn't dress that way, even for gigs. She was a jeans-and-tee-shirt kind of girl. Usually tight, yes, but still. So, I know that just seeing her in anything nice and dressy and sexy was a novelty. Boy, when she decides to go dressy and sexy, she goes all out. Anyhow, after much ribbing in the limo, we made our way to the prom. We had a blast. The food was good and we all danced. We even swapped partners a bit--I had to dance with Deb and Michelle at least once, right? Then again, I'm a horrible dancer. Musicians don't dance. Schroeder said that once to Lucy. Truer words were never spoken. The real shock was when they announced the Prom King and Queen. I saw all the A-list jocks and cheerleaders and other Beautiful People waiting for one of their names to be announced. Sorry, Beautiful People--didn't quite happen that way. If there was any proof needed that The Narcoleptics had completely taken over Cabot High, it was provided, in spades. The Prom King and Queen were Stan and Michelle. And nobody was more surprised than Stan and Michelle! The party afterwards was at Deb's house. Just the ten of us, nobody else. Deb's parents were very cool. They were especially cool with Deb, because of her place in the family--she was the "surprise!" baby. What I mean by that was her brother and sister were 25 and 22 years old respectively. And Deb was 16. Her parents were not trying for Kid Number Three. Deb once told me that she was on the pill because, "I'm what happens when the rubber breaks." Not that her parents resented her or didn't love her--not at all. Her parents were, as I said, great. But what had happened was, in Deb's words, "Since my brother and sister are so much older and I was unexpected, my parents used up their quotient of Parental Authority Bullshit on the other two. I just get love and acceptance and guidance. They got sick of being strict. Especially with my brother. Believe it or not, I'm not the wild child in my family!" "Parents tend to make all their mistakes on the oldest," I told her. "You're only saying that because you're the oldest," she teased. Which was true! Anyhow, because of all that, Deb's parents were cool. They knew about her 'lifestyle' and only warned her to be careful. They counseled vehemently about hard drugs--evidently part of Deb's older brother's wild days was cocaine--but didn't smack her around about pot or booze, as long as she wasn't driving. They expected grades from a girl as smart as Deb--and they got them, Deb was an A-minus/B-plus student--and they expected an eventual college degree. And they were plainly thrilled she'd taken her music obsession to the point of being in a popular band. All-in-all, they were very non-judgmental. So, they opened their house for our party. They even provided the beer--and took everyone's keys at the front door. They'd even talked to some of the more skittish parents--which meant Karen and Lisa's, mostly--and assured them that nothing untoward was going to go on. Which was a blatant lie, but it reassured the parents in question. They also reassured the parents that there was lots of places for kids to sleep, so they wouldn't be driving home in the middle of the night. Of course, there wouldn't have been enough places to sleep if everyone had slept separately. Which nobody did, of course! They had a huge house, but not that big. So, darn, I just had no choice but to flop down in a guestroom in the same bed with Olivia. Poor us, huh? Of course, the fact that Livvie and I were sleeping together was no secret. Though Michelle's parents were older, and a little old-fashioned, they were also not stupid, trusted their daughter, and liked Stan. Michelle told me she was sure that her parents knew what was going on but chose to ignore it--which was fine with her. And, as I said, Debbie's parents knew all. But Dave and Karen had to sneak around. Karen's parents hadn't figured it out, and Karen surely didn't want to push it. They'd done it a number of times, but a bed was a nice change. And Kenny and Lisa? Well, they hadn't snuck around--because they hadn't. Done it, I mean. So, a room in a house without any parents around was a complete godsend for them--because, for them, it wasn't just another time, it was their first time. They'd been talking about it, but, like most girls, Lisa was holding out for someplace other than a car. When Deb talked about her parents opening the house after-prom, they knew they had their chance. They were very happy in the morning! Olivia and I weren't taking any virginities, of course. But we still managed to have fun. After drinking and dancing in Debbie's living room, we all found our way to our bedrooms. "OK," Livvie said right off, "I have to get out of this dress!" "Can I help?" I leered. "You betcha. The zipper's hard for me to reach." I gladly slipped her zipper down, and she stepped out of the dress. She was wearing nylons, high heels, panties, and a bra. "God, you're sexy." "Am I?" she said, impishly blinking her eyes at me. "Like you don't know," I grinned at her, stripping off my tuxedo jacket. "Well, I like hearing it," she grinned back. She sauntered over to me, and started undoing the buttons on my shirt. I reached around and undid her bra. When my shirt and her bra were off, she went for the button on my pants. "Why don't you let me do that," I said. "I don't trust myself getting your pantyhose off without giving you a run in them." "You think I trust myself to do that?" she laughed--but she let go of my pants and went for the hose. And, yes, she got them off without a run. We were naked, just kind of fondling and rolling around on one another on the bed. Then she started tickling me. I'm extremely ticklish. And not in an it-turns-me-on way, either. In fact, by the time I finally fought Livvie off, my dick was as limp as cooked spaghetti. Which Livvie discovered when she reached down. "Hmm, what happened here? It was raring to go a couple minutes ago." "Now you know not to tickle me," I grumbled. "Oops. Sorry. Let me help you out with that," she said with a gleam in her eye. I was lying flat on the bed after the tickle attack, and she had ended up curled up beside me. She reached over and started running her hand up and down Mr. Happy. Mr. Happy quickly got happy again. Livvie got up and straddled me, settling down on my thighs, still pulling on my dick "Well, I definitely didn't kill him," she giggled, as my dick came completely erect again. "That's a good thing." She got up off my thighs and scooched forward a bit. She raised herself up so that her pussy was directly over my dick. "We've never done it this way," she said--meaning with her on top. "Wanna try it?" "Sure," I said. "When you get settled down, it'll give me a few things to play with," I smirked. "Yes it will. That should be fun," she grinned back. Livvie had gone on the pill a couple of months before, so we didn't have to worry about rubbers (yay!). So, she didn't have to interrupt her preparations to deal with that little nuisance. She lowered herself, very slightly, down towards me, and grabbed my dick. She rubbed my dick up and down her pussy, trying to lubricate it. And it wasn't gonna take much--she was dripping. Tickling me might've killed my arousal, but it definitely had helped hers! She took her time, grinning at me, making sure her juices coated my dick. Well, OK, that's not all she was doing--I noticed she made sure my dick rubbed her clit a number of times! I just let her enjoy herself--because I sure was. After getting my dick nice and wet--and nudging her clit enough times to get nice and going--she moved to lower herself on to me. She was a bit awkward, though--like I said, we'd never done it this way before. She seemed to have a bit of trouble deciding exactly what angle to take. And, when she lowered herself onto me, she leaned back too far, and missed. Missed her pussy, I mean. It didn't miss altogether. I knew immediately, the minute the head of my dick popped into her, that I wasn't in her pussy. It was way too tight and not nearly wet enough--judging by the copious wetness she'd been able to spread on my dick, I should've been entering a swamp. And though Livvie's pussy was nice and tight, it wasn't this tight. It wasn't deliberate--she truly did miss--and I could tell that just by looking at her face. Her eyes were completely wide-open saucers in surprise, and she let out an audible gasp. I twitched at the feeling. "Don't move!" she hissed. "I'm not," I said quietly. "Don't breathe!" she hissed. I couldn't help it. I chuckled. "Don't breathe?" I said. "I said don't breathe! And for God's sake don't laugh!" "Livvie, just get off," I said reasonably. "NO!" Her hand came off the mattress--where it was helping to hold her up--and it made the universal stop sign. "Just don't move. Give me a minute." She was still staring at me wide-eyed, with the head of my dick nudged firmly in her ass. Then she moved--down. About a half-inch more of my dick slid into her ass. She groaned. OK, that's when I got the wide-eyed look of surprise! "Are you going to go any second?" she asked. "No. It's almost too tight," I told her. "Good," she grinned. And then she slid down another half inch. It really felt weird. I wasn't kidding, it was almost too tight, but she was loosening up a bit. It was way different than being in a pussy, that's for sure. But I was concerned by the look of pain on her face. "If it hurts, maybe we shouldn't," I told her. "You know that saying, there's a fine line between pleasure and pain?" she said. "I think I'm sitting right on that line." "That's not all you're sitting on," I teased. She giggled, and then groaned. And then slid down another half-inch. "God, this feels so funky," she hissed. "Have you ever done this?" she asked me. "No," I said--and that was the truth. In fact, it was the truth even if you counted the first life--I'd never had my dick inside somebody's ass ever. Did I say Livvie and I weren't going to be swapping virginities? Whoops, wrong again. In fact, it was the only genuine virginity I had left. Well, unless I wanted to go bisexual and do it the other way around! In any case, this was a first. I have to admit, thinking about it that way, it was exciting. Even if the feeling was a bit strange. While I was thinking about that, Livvie slid down a bit more. She was about halfway down. Which means, of course, that there wasn't much to go, since half of not-much is still not-much. For once, that might be a good thing. Which is what I said to Livvie. "You know, I've always been self-conscious about my lack of size down there, but for once I think it's a good thing." I'd never voiced my insecurities out loud, and especially not to Livvie. Even though she was preoccupied, what with squatting with half my dick up her ass and all, she hit my insecurities head-on. "Listen to me," she said, seriously, "I have not and never will have the slightest bit of a complaint. OK?" Then she let out a little grin. "Although I will admit, if you had one of those baseball bat porn star dicks, I don't think we'd be doing this!" "Uh-huh," I agreed. She kept grinning at me for a second, then her face got a look of concentration again. She went to move down on me once more, probably trying to keep up her half-inch-at-a-time pace. However, her legs gave out--and she plopped down on me, hard. Before either of us knew it, my dick was all the way in, and the globes of her ass were resting on my hip bones. And, boy, did she squeal! "Shit," she hissed. "I didn't mean to do that so quick!" "I figured," I told her. "Does it hurt?" "Yes and no," she said. "I mean, it does, but it's not all pain." She managed a grin again combined with a slight grimace. "This is so damn nasty!" "And that turns you on, doesn't it?" I smiled. "Oh, yeah! I need to sit here for a minute, though, to get used to it. Are you still OK?" "For now," I said. "Uh-huh," she laughed. "I love you," I told her. "Love you, too." She started moving, very slowly, up and down on me. There was still a bit of a grimace at first--but she started to get used to it. And she started moving faster. Still not very fast, but she was clearly getting used to it. I curbed the urge to thrust up at her--and, believe me, I had it--and let her go at her own pace. As for me, it was starting to feel very good. Her ass had loosened up just enough so that it wasn't squeezing my dick so that half the circulation was cut off--but it was still the tightest place my dick had ever been in. So I was starting to get worked up. But I needed more. Livvie was still moving rather slowly up and down my dick, and I could still see a bit of a grimace on her face. As I said, I didn't want to start thrusting up at her while she was still being tentative. She did this--I wanted it to be good for both of us. So, what I needed to do was take that line she was on, the one between pleasure and pain, and push it more towards the pleasure side. Well, that was easy, right? My hands were free. And, with the way Livvie was sitting, her legs straddling my hips and leaning back a bit--so was her pussy. Including her clit. I started slow--I put my hands on her hips, ostensibly to stabilize her movements. I didn't keep both of them there for long, though--I moved one up to a boob in a couple seconds. That made her groan, and start moving a bit faster. After that, I waited a couple minutes and then moved my other hand to her pussy. I swiped my fingers up and down it a bit, and then headed for her clit. Instant explosion! Her eyes popped wide open again, she practically whinnied, and she started bouncing her ass up and down my dick at a breakneck pace. With that, I felt more confident about thrusting up at her a bit. She just whined louder. Of course, this had fully engaged me in the exercise, and I didn't want to go off too quickly. Luckily, I didn't have anything to worry about. Livvie must've been closer than I thought, because my hand on her clit sent her there in a hurry. I felt her ass clench hard on my dick, and the whine got low and long, and she shook on top of me. A couple more thrusts up into her ass and I went right with her. Livvie flopped down on top of me, nuzzling my neck, as my dick slipped out of her ass. "Wow, that was fun!" she said after a few minutes. "Did it hurt a lot?" "Not a lot, and really only at first," she told me. "It actually felt really good at the end. And when you grabbed my clit--well, you've done that before, and having you in me back there just about doubled everything." "Good." "I'll probably be sore as hell tomorrow, though," she said wryly. "No doubt," I chuckled. "Anyhow," she said, slipping into an adorable little-girl sing-song, "you think you can make your thingy all hard for me again before sleepy-time? My front door is still awfully empty." I cracked up. "Sure, though I might need a little help." "Oh, goody!" "But don't you think I should go grab a washcloth or something? He's a little soiled, I do think." "Good thinking," she grinned. "Let me go fetch one. I have a robe, so I can just slip that and a pair of panties on. There's a bathroom down the hall." "OK." She threw her robe on, and sauntered out. She was quickly back and with a wet washcloth. "I'm glad I put the old panties back on. I was leaking all the way down to the bathroom," she giggled. "Not now?" "I, er, got on the toilet," she blushed. "Probably a good move," I laughed. She grinned back, and started wiping my dick down with the washcloth. While she did so, she said, softly, "You're really self-conscious about your size?" "Yeah," I admitted. "I've been in enough locker rooms." "You want the truth?" "Might as well," I said. "OK. You're not the biggest I've ever had, it's true. You're also not the smallest. Dennis Boulier, for example," she said disgustedly. "He was my first, so I didn't know any better, but jeez. That wasn't a dick, it was a pencil." I cracked up at that. "Now I know better. But the thing is, there's more important things than size." "Such as?" I asked. "Attitude. Control. Shit, I've been to bed with four other guys before you. What we did tonight? It never would've happened with any of them--because they would've gone off before they had two inches in. That's the control part. And, even if they got to the point where they were all the way in and I was bouncing up and down, they never would've even thought of grabbing my clit and helping me along. That's the attitude part. And that's before we get into your tongue. Have we ever had sex where I didn't have at least one climax?" "Not that I know of," I said. "No, we haven't. I don't fake it," she smiled. "And there were plenty of times with my other boyfriends that I didn't, you know. In fact, I can remember three whole orgasms before I started going out with you. Shit, with you, I can get more than that in one night sometimes. So don't worry about your size. It hits all the right places," she grinned. "Thank you," I said sincerely. "I worry about that, especially with you, because you're the most experienced woman I've ever been with." "Yep, and it was mostly bad before you. So there!" She grinned, and then she got serious. "Now you know how girls feel about boobs. And that might be worse, because only people that get to see you naked know your size. Girls can't hide it." "Oh, come on--you have nothing to worry about." "Now," she said. "I was a bit of a late bloomer. I remember back in ninth grade. I didn't have nothing. Nobody could tell because of the baggy clothes I wore, but I was really self-consious about it. And, yes, I'm not the only late bloomer--but I remember seeing girls like Michelle walk around back then, and I was jealous." "Yeah, but I think you've got her beat now," I said. "Maybe, but not Debbie." "To me, you do," I said. She looked at me quizzically. "You have to understand how guys think, dear." "And how is that, sweetie?" she smirked. "The biggest boobs are always the ones we get to see naked." She cracked up. "It's true. Clothed double-D's can't compete with naked B's. If you're willing to show 'em, they go up four cup sizes." "You're incorrigible," she giggled. Just then, we heard a high-pitched, "OOOOH! OOOOH! AAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!! EEEEEEEEE!!!!!" coming from the next room. We looked at one another and cracked up. "Was that Michelle?" she asked. "I think so," I said. "Sounded like her, and I do think they had that room." "Well, I guess she can hit the high notes even off-stage!" "Sounds like it," I laughed. "Anyhow," she said, "Mister Just-the-right-size here is all cleaned off and getting happy." She rolled over so she was on her back. "Time to come in the front door!" "I think I can handle that. You gonna try to hit some high notes?" "I'll stick to what I'm good at!" "Which would be?" She leaned over and whispered in my ear. "Clenching my pussy like a vice grip so I suck every drop of cum out of your dick." If I wasn't ready before that, I certainly was after! ------- JULY 4th, 1981 The Fourth of July party that Sara and her family had thrown for quite a while had metamorphosized. It was now a block party. They closed the street off. The whole street was invited--you just had to bring something. That went for people in the immediate neighborhood, too. They got police permits and the whole bit. One of the things they got a permit for for this year was music. Live music. Guess who? We were thrilled to do it--and we did it for free. Well, we got free food out of the deal! But that was our contribution--we supplied the music. Everybody was bringing something and nobody was getting paid. Well, that's what we brought. Somebody else brought the potato salad--we brought the guitars. We wanted to do it for a number of reasons. First, Sara was a friend--and I loved her mother right from that day when she'd supported me when Don Nixon whacked me around at the party there. Second, the crowd. Yes, there'd been some non-high-school students at things like Win Craymore's party, but it was still mostly high schoolers. This wouldn't be--it would be very mixed. One of the benefits of that is that we'd finally get to play a gig in front of our parents. Sara's Mom made sure to tell us that all the families of the band members were invited--and they didn't have to bring anything, either, since we were bringing the guitars. We were all happy about that. We practiced in the same place--Stan's always-available garage. So Stan's parents had heard us--his mother repeatedly, and his father a few times. But none of the other parents had seen or even heard us play. They were all up for it. Even my Dad allowed himself to be dragged along! The other reason we were looking forward to it was set list. This wasn't a dance, and it wasn't a party. I don't want to say we were background music--because, as it turns out, most of the people there were crowded around and listening while we played--but we weren't playing for people to dance. So, we could play pretty much anything we wanted to. We'd been trying to expand our set lists in practices anyhow. We tried new songs, old songs that were new to us, whatever. One thing we definitely tried to do is add to the number of Beatles and Springsteen songs we knew. We all loved both of them, we always played three or four songs by them each, and we didn't want to play the same ones all the time. Oh, sure, we figured we'd always play Born To Run. We also figured we'd always play Day Tripper, and probably Ticket to Ride as well. But we could mix up the Beatles and Bruce in other sets. And, for this gig, we realized, we could even learn Bruce songs that weren't particularly danceable. He had a few. One of his ten-minute psuedo-rock-opera things, for instance. You know, like Jungleland. There's a good one. It changed tempo too often to be danceable. It was ten minutes long. We all loved it, though, especially Kenny, who really got to shine on the piano. And Debbie, who got to play a soulful three-minute sax solo. So, yeah, this would be a good kind of gig to whip out something like Jungleland. Of course, my fellow bandmates just about thought to have me committed to the local looney bin when I suggested we open with it! Somehow, I talked them into it. Don't ask me how. As far as I know, even Bruce had never opened a show with Jungleland! It was, as Stan put it, "The ultimate in audacious insanity." But they finally agreed with me. We had to be done playing by eight--that's what the permit from the local cops specified. We were playing four sets, but we thought a couple of them might go a little long. So, we started at three. That gave us plenty of time to play our four sets plus breaks. So, at three PM, in the midst of all the Fourth of July revelry, seven idiots stepped on stage--a stage set up in the middle of the street, on Sara's front lawn--and opened the musical part of the festivities with... Jungleland. I never claimed to be completely sane! Actually, it went over pretty well. It's a good thing that Kenny can play his ass off on the piano--his flawless delivery of that long intro hooked a lot of people. Debbie wailed on sax, as usual, which helped. I managed to keep up with the vocals. And there were a sizeable amount of Springsteen fans there, judging by how many people sang along with the first "... down... in... Junglelaaaaand!" After we got done with that one, to a mix of applause and stunned head-scratching, I stepped to the mic and said, "OK, that's enough insanity. Everybody ready for summer?" And then we played the Beach Boys--Catch A Wave. Much more conventional! I was shouting out names. In Jungleland, when Deb started her sax solo, I said, "Debbie Gomelski on the sax!" When Stan did the rip-roaring guitar solo, I yelled, "Stan Murvetsin!" Since Catch A Wave has an organ solo, I got to throw Karen out there. She played that organ solo like I'd seen her before when she was really getting into it--full grin on her face, swaying at the organ. I knew that sight, I'd seen it. Apparently, other people never had. Her parents. And her little brother. We were all pointing out each other's families before the gig, the ones we didn't know. So I'd seen Karen's parents and brother, I knew who they were. We were all cognizant of the families being there. We figured there'd be some surprises for the parents. Some of these parents only knew one side of their teenaged children--and that wasn't the rock-and-roll side. Stan's parents knew. Mine did, as well. Debbie's had a clue. But the rest were in for some surprises. Michelle went through quite a 'what should I wear?' quandary. She thought about wearing something more sedate than she usually did on stage, just because her parents were going to be there. What actually tipped her over was the fact that it was ninety degrees out. Even Debbie was wearing shorts, which was just about unheard of. So, Michelle went with the spaghetti-strap shirt and miniskirt ensemble. With sneakers instead of heels, and no fishnets, but still. We got on stage and her parents were slack-jawed. "Never seen you in that, have they?" I asked her. "I don't think they even knew I owned it!" she laughed. That wasn't the final instance of complete parental surprise. So, the slack-jaw thing went to Karen's parents as they saw her sway and grin while flying through the organ solo on Catch A Wave. Must've been the first time they ever saw their shy little daughter getting into it like that! Plus, she sang a little backup on that song--she was a decent, though not great, singer, and thought she was a lot worse than she really was. We had to twist her arm to sing, even a little backup part. But Catch A Wave has a lot of vocal parts, so we needed her. She did fine--but that must've stunned her parents even more. The third song in the first set was always a Michelle Special, but one thing she decided she didn't want to do was sing the lascivious Up The Neck as her first vocal performance in front of her parents! So we moved Fleetwood Mac's Dreams into that spot. She nailed it, and her parents got all google-eyed again. Then we played some more familiar first-set stuff. Here Comes My Girl. Allison. We did throw Goodbye Yellow Brick Road in there, which we'd just learned. Michelle did Because The Night, as usual. We kept Substitute in the set. We changed Beatles songs in the first set, and did Got To Get You Into My Life, with our two saxophonists and Kenny playing the trumpet part on his synthesizer. More surprises for Karen's parents as she stepped up to the front of the stage to play sax! Then, we decided to dedicate a song to the parents. Which song? Well, Surrender, by Cheap Trick, of course! As I said, we tried to stay up-to-date. That didn't always mean what was on the top of the charts. I mean, some of the stuff that hit the top of the charts in 1981--ugh. Morning Train? Stars on 45? No, thanks. However, if you were alive in the spring and summer of 1981, there was one song that was completely ubiquitous. And, while this particular song wasn't exactly Strawberry Fields Forever, it wasn't bad, either. And we'd learned it in one afternoon when, during a break, Karen started playing the synth part that dominates the song. Karen knew that synth part cold--the rest of us fell in and learned it. I'm talking about Bette Davis Eyes, by Kim Carnes. Hey, everybody would know it, and it was a decent song. Michelle worried about it--she didn't have the same type of voice as Kim Carnes in the slightest. We just told her to sing it like Michelle. Nobody would care. And nobody did. Karen played that synth line flawlessly, which helped. Outside of Michelle's less raspy voice, it sounded just like it. We ended the first set with the usual--No Matter What, and Just What I Needed. Between sets, all the families found us. Michelle's parents were very proud, and more than a little bemused. Like I'd said before, they were older--mid-fifties or so. They'd had Michelle later in life after years of trying. I mean, I contrast that to my mother, who was 38--young enough to be slightly hip. Though she was old enough that her first love was stuff older than what we did--Elvis and the like--she knew and liked the sixties stuff. You gotta figure, if they were mid-fifties in 1981, they were already well into their thirties when The Beatles hit. Rock and Roll wasn't their thing. But they were immensely proud of Michelle--they 'got it' enough to see how good she was. And they were more bemused than consternated by the get-up! Karen's parents--and her little brother, who was 12 or so--were just flabbergasted. The rest of the parents seemed very happy with the whole thing. Even my Dad liked it--and we didn't even play any Frank Sinatra! For the second set, we opened with Tom Petty's The Waiting, which was just out. I adore that song. Our third song was another Elton John song we'd never done, Tiny Dancer. We did that for a specific reason--I'd found out it was Livvie's favorite song of all time. We threw in Bowie's Suffragette City, just for shits and giggles. And to give me an excuse to howl, "Awww, wham-bam-thank you ma'am!" on stage. We threw in Greg Kihn's The Break-Up Song, which was on the charts. And the Springteen selection in the second set was Ramrod. More star turns for the girls on organ and sax! We opened the third set with more Springsteen--Cadillac Ranch. That got everybody up and going. A few songs into the set, we hit 'em with the most difficult song we'd ever attempted--God Only Knows by the Beach Boys. Debbie, bless her, had actually gone out and bought a French Horn and had learned the intro. After she played that, she went and played that 'clip-clop' percussion thing that ran through the song. That song is all keyboards and a splendiferous bass line--Kenny, Karen, and Michelle carried the day. And that's a song I've always been able to sing. After that, we did Baker Street, another song we couldn't play at a dance-oriented gig. More saxophone wailing from Debbie. We made further changes at the end of the set. We played Jessie's Girl, which was climbing the charts. And I sang the whole thing pointing at Michelle and Stan! We played Kiss On My List by Hall and Oates, another hit from a few months before. And, in an effort to get more lead vocals from Michelle, we did Hit Me With Your Best Shot. To end the set, after ripping through Ticket To Ride, we played Rock Lobster. Stan did the Fred Schnieder vocals--don't want to call it 'singing', exactly--and I played the lead guitar. We decided to start the fourth set with Dear Prudence. After Up On The Roof, we played Heart's Crazy On You. I am not a Heart fan, but Michelle liked singing it, and Debbie liked playing that tricky acoustic guitar intro. We threw Lola into the set. All Summer Long by the Beach Boys. Instead of opening my 12-string set with Tambourine Man, we switched Byrds and played Turn Turn Turn. Then, in the Rock Till You Drop, closing, we inserted a new song. After Brown Sugar and Born To Run, we played CCR's Traveling Band. As usual, we closed with Rock and Roll High School into What I Like About You. We went over really, really well. Even with the parents. And not just our parents--for instance, Sara's parents barely stopped dancing! Even when we weren't playing dance music! Who dances to Baker Street? Sara's parent's did. Unbelieveable. Kara was there, too. It was summer vacation, after all, and she lived in the neighborhood. She brought her mother and even Mrs. Pocharsky was full of nothing but gushing praise for the band. That was cool. So, a good time was had by all--and the legend (guffaw) of The Narcoleptics grew further! JULY 10th, 1981 I got my driver's license! Whoopee! Same day I got it the first time around--the very day I was eligible. This time around, it was actually a bit easier. The first time, I almost blew it with my feeble attempt at parallel parking--something I was never good at--but this time I wasn't asked to. Yay! And this time I'd had the money to buy myself a car. Nothing major. Most of my money was earmarked for college--or new equipment for the band! And I hadn't gone nuts in using my foreknowledge for ill-gotten gains. But I was still working for Dad, so I didn't need to dip into my savings for day-to-day stuff. So, I bought a second hand car. It was a used Datsun, a station-wagon kind of thing... Yep, this is before Datsun became Nissan. A station wagon? Why would any 16-year-old kid want a station wagon? Well, duh. Lots of room for fucking! Even more when the back seat folded down. Livvie and I could stretch out back there with plenty of room. As we quickly proved mere hours after I'd gotten my license. I almost felt like an adult again, now that I could legally drive. This was one thing I'd really been waiting for. JULY 27th, 1981 So, everything was great. I was going to be a senior in high school, and I was near the top of the class. I finally had wheels. The band was kicking ass. I had a good group of friends and a great girlfriend. Things were obviously too perfect. Fate decided that it was time the roof fell in. Oh, not on me. But when the roof falls in on someone close to you, you generally get caught up in the debris. And what dropped on my head this day was some pretty serious debris. I got a call at about three in the afternoon. It was Olivia. And she sounded like she was holding back a hysterical screaming fit. "Eddie? Can you get over here? Now, please?" I got over there. She was waiting for me. She looked horrible. She jumped in my car and hissed, "Get me the fuck out of here, please." After a bit of twenty questions and her hissed, clipped answers, I finally got out of her that she needed to talk. But not at her house. We went to mine. She wanted this talk to be for an audience of one--me. And my parents didn't generally let me take Livvie to my room. I did, after all, have a ten-year-old sister. Even though my room was up on the third floor, the parents didn't want there to even be a whiff of that near Erin. But after hearing Livvie's strangled, desperate, "I need to tell Eddie what happened to me today!" and seeing the look on her face--plus my assurances that all that was going to happen was talking--my mother told me to take her up to my room so we could talk in private. I led her upstairs. There were no chairs in my bedroom--I sat on the bed when I was up there. So, we both sat on the bed. But, before she could start talking, the tears came out. Great big gobs of them, accompanied by frantic wailing. I just held her through it. I admit, I was worried senseless. She still hadn't given me a hint as to what was wrong, and the last time I'd seen her this upset was, well, the day Beth died. Finally, she calmed down and pulled herself out of my embrace. And she started talking. Luckily, nobody died. But a lot had happened to her today. "About eleven o'clock this morning," she started, "there was a knock on the door. I answered it, and this guy I'd never seen before was standing there. He asked me if I was Olivia Drogins. I asked him who wanted to know. He said, I'm Olivia's father. "Now, I've seen pictures of my father and this guy didn't look anything like him. Which is what I told him. He said, 'If you're talking about Joe Drogins, he's not your father.'" "I was already fed up with this jackass, and started to tell him so. But he stopped me and said, 'Hear me out. Then call your mother and ask her if any of what I'm going to tell you is a lie.' Well, OK. So I came out and sat on the porch with him--wasn't going to invite him in, right? "He tells me his name is Ben Gorman, and that he met my mother when he was a professor of English at Salem State. Evidently, after my mother had my two brothers she decided to go back to school. She'd met my fa--I mean, Joe Drogins in high school, and they got married right after. Then my brothers came along. I knew that much. But evidently the marriage wasn't in great shape and Mom figured it would come to an end eventually--so she went back to school to prepare for that. "She was in his English Composition class right away. And she met him a couple times after class to ask question. Then they went out for coffee a few times. They waited until she was done with that class, but afterwards... well, long story short, they had an affair." "And you were the result?" I asked. "Apparently," she sighed. "According to Ben, she wasn't sleeping with Joe at all at that point. This gets convoluted. Apparently, the minute she found out she was pregnant, she dragged Joe to bed. That way she could pass me off as being 'early' or something--which is I guess what she did. But when Ben found out she was pregnant, he confronted her. And she admitted that it had to be his." "Jesus," I hissed. "Oh, this gets better," she snorted. "He offered to take responsibility. He offered to marry her if she dumped Joe. He offered the world. And she turned him down. Even after Joe left. And apparently Joe left, by the way, because he figured out that I wasn't his." "Oh, damn, Livvie. Look, are you sure this guy was telling you the truth?" "I asked myself the same thing, throughout the whole story. Though I don't particularly look like him, I favor my mother anyway. I don't look anything like Joe. So, yeah, I was asking myself the same thing. Until Mom came home in the middle of it. And confirmed it." "And she kept this from you?" I asked. "Oh, she did more than that," Livvie said bitterly. "After two years of trying to get to see me, trying to get Mom to let him near me, he gave up. He took another position at Eastern Michigan University. But he still tried to get to me, especially after Joe left. Tried to get Mom to go out to Michigan with him and everything. She still wouldn't." Livvie took a deep breath. "And the worst part of it was that he wanted to be my father. And she wouldn't let him. He's wanted to see me all this time. She kept him away." She was choking back the tears now. "I thought my father had abandoned me. And, all this time, my real father wanted to see me. And that bitch wouldn't let him!" She visibly collected herself. "There's more. He sent money. Even though he had no obligation to, legally--Joe's my father on my birth certificate--he did. Of course, I never saw a penny of it. Mom used it to finance her booze. When Ben saw what my clothes looked like--and when I told him that I'd bought the nice ones with babysitting money--he almost blew a gasket." "How did your mother react when she came home?" I asked. Livvie laughed, with no humor in it at all. "She turned white as a ghost. Serves her right." "Why did he come now?" "He's married. Got a couple of kids, 8 and 10 or so. He told me that his wife knew about me from the start. I guessed she convinced him that I was old enough to handle it, and old enough so that he could get to me without Mom around. Apparently, he sat in front of my house from eight this morning, waiting for Mom to leave. And his wife also convinced him that it was now or never, because next year I'd be off to college and he wouldn't be able to find me." "I can see that. How do you feel?" "I have no fucking idea," she snorted. "I mean, my whole life is a lie. My father isn't my father. My real father wanted me. And my mother is a bigger slimeball than I ever realized." "Did she have any defense for her actions?" "Of course not. Mom? Mom takes care of Mom. I've always known that, I just didn't know the lengths of it." She sighed. "And the horrible part is, I owe it to my brothers to tell them the whole bit. I know Mom won't. I can only hope they don't blame me." "Why on earth?" "Because Joe was their father, and he left because of me." "He left because your mother is a lying cheat, Livvie. You were just a byproduct of that," I told her. "Your brothers have grown up a lot since they got out of your house. They won't blame you." "I hope not." "So, I know this day has been very upsetting. But what did you think of him?" "My father? It's so very strange," she said, though she had a slight smile on her face when she said it. "How would you feel if you were 17 and some stranger popped up on your doorstep and said, 'Hi, I'm Dad'?" She sighed. "He's very nice, it seems. I liked him, I have to admit." Her slight smile got a wee big wider. "And when he found out about the money, he did an end-around on Mom. He told me that the checks would now be mailed to me, and made out to me. He even made me give him my bank account number--and told Mom that if he saw his checks deposited into any account besides that one, he'd have her arrested for theft and forgery." "Bet your Mom loved that." "Oh, she was puce," Livvie laughed. "He even made sure Mom's name wasn't on my account, which it's not. So, at least I'll have some money for my senior year in high school. Oh, he also said he has an account for me, which will pay for pretty much any college in the country I want to go to." She grinned at me--finally. "So, I won't have to be waiting for scholarships to go to BC with you. And I won't have to settle for Salem State." "Are you going to stay in contact with him?" "I think so," she said. "He's in town for the rest of the week. I told him I'd spend some time with him, trying to get to know him and all. He asked me to go to dinner with him tomorrow night. I said only if I could bring my boyfriend. He was all for it. You OK with it?" "Of course," I smiled at her. "I guess we have to meet, right?" "Yep!" she said. "After he stuck up for me with Mom about the money and her treatment of me and all--I walked him out to his car. And I thanked him for sticking up for me. I told him the only person that ever does that is my boyfriend. So he asked me if you were going to feel usurped. I told him, no, looking out for me is a full-time job so you'd probably appreciate the help." I laughed. "But after that," she continued, "he definitely wants to meet you." "I'll be glad to. How are you dealing with all this?" "I dunno," she sighed. "I feel like I gained a father--but pretty much lost a mother. Or, I guess, realized that I never had her. Not in any meaningful way." "Yeah," I sighed. She slid over on the bed so that she was next to me, and snuggled into me. "Least I got you," she said. "Always." "You're my rock, Eddie, you know that?" "I try." We snuggled together on my bed for a while, before we went downstairs. Didn't want my mother to freak and all. When I took her home, she was completely drained. She stll managed to give me a heart-stopping kiss. Then she went in to face her mother. I offered to go in with her, but she declined. She probably figured that I'd be way too tempted to blow up at the bitch, which I would. What could I do? All I could do was hold her and let her talk and make sure she knew I was there. My girlfriend's life had been turned upside down and there wasn't a lot I could do. But I worried. She had a lot to deal with. ------- Chapter 16 "TRY TO SEE IT MY WAY, ONLY TIME WILL TELL IF I AM RIGHT OR I AM WRONG" JULY 28th, 1981 So, I went to supper with Olivia, to meet her father she didn't know she had. We were going to meet her father at the restaurant, so I drove to her house to pick her up. Luckily, her mother wasn't around. "After you dropped me off yesterday, I decided to talk to my brothers. I went over to George's place. Junior met us there." George was the younger of her brothers, he was 20. Junior--Joe Jr.--was 22. "How did that go?" I asked her. "Amazingly well. They were worried about me. And they didn't blame me for their father leaving. They're pretty pissed off at Mom, though." "They should be." "You know, I can understand why she wouldn't divorce Joe for an uncertain future with my Dad. I can even understand why she tried to pass me off as Joe's kid." She took a deep breath. "But to continue the fiction after Joe figured it out and left? To keep my father from me for all these years that Joe was out of the picture? And to basically steal the money my father was sending for me? Those things I'll never understand. And I may never forgive." "I can't blame you," I sighed. "She's avoiding me like the plague right now. Apparently she has the tiniest inkling of a conscience, surprise surprise." "Either that or it's self-preservation. She's afraid you're going to skin her alive." "Oh, don't tempt me," she hissed. "Anyhow, at least I have my brothers' support. And yours, of course," she grinned. "Of course." We went to the Century House, a nice restaurant that I'd always liked, and it had long been my parents' favorite. It wasn't ritzy, but the food was fantastic. We met her father there. Livvie introduced us. We shook hands. I think we looked at one another a wee bit warily. Hey, I understood. It was kind of the reverse of the usual 'boyfriend meets father' scenario. Usually, Daddy is the man in his little girl's life, and the boyfriend is the interloper, to be looked upon with trepidation. Here, it was rather the other way around! Though Ben, as he told me to call him, was also still wary of me, of course. Part of that, I'm sure, was my appearance. Well, one aspect of my appearance, anyway. Most of it was fine. I was dressed neatly, my usual 'nice casual' clothes--polo shirt and chinos--you know, my usual LL Bean standbys. And I'd taken a shower and all that. The thing was, I'd been trying to keep myself away from the 'geek' image as much as I could. And, appearance-wise, there was something about me that just screamed geek and was something I couldn't avoid--the glasses. The rather thick glasses. It sucks that wearing a device to correct bad eyesight became some sort of a nerd flag, but that's the way it was. And glasses, for me, weren't an option--without my glasses, I walk into walls. I'm blind as a bat. And there were no such thing as contact lenses for people with severe astigmatism in 1981. So, I needed something else to counteract the glasses. It was easy--my hair. It was rather long at this point. Look, I liked long hair. On girls especially, but I liked it in general. Worst haircut I ever had was when I was a little kid and my mother took me for a buzz cut. I hated it. Like the song says, "Give me a head with hair, long beautiful hair." So, I had the hair well past my shoulders. I'm sure Ben looked at that and thought, "I just found my long-lost daughter--and what exactly is this hairy thing she's going out with?" Anyhow, we sat down. A waitress quickly appeared and we ordered. Then Ben started with the inevitable questions. "How long have you guys been going out?" he started by asking. "End of October," I said. "I liked him before that, but couldn't bring myself to tell him," Livvie said with a laugh. "One of the girls in his band figured it out and told him." "Yeah. Livvie hung around the band while we were rehearsing," I said. "Debbie, who's in the band and one of my best friends, told me that Livvie had a crush on me. I, of course, was oblivious, typical male that I am." Livvie cracked up. "At least, after Debbie clued you in, you didn't dawdle." "Nope," I agreed, smiling at her. "I asked her out right away," I told Ben. "Ah. And what's this about a band?" Ben asked. "He's the lead singer and guitar player in a band," Livvie enthused. "They're awesome!" "Thanks, sweetie," I said to her. "I'm the rhythm guitarist and one of the lead singers, to be precise," I told Ben. "My friend Stan is the real guitar player. And his girlfriend Michelle, who's also our bass player, splits the lead vocals with me. There's seven of us, four guys and three girls." "That's a big band," Ben said. "Yeah. But we get a big sound," I told him. "We have me and Stan on guitars, Michelle on bass, we have a drummer and two keyboard players. And then there's Debbie." "Who plays everything," Livvie laughed. "Pretty much. Guitar, percussion, saxophone. She even plays a little flute. And when we decided to learn God Only Knows a few months ago, she went out and bought a french horn and learned the intro." "I think she could learn any instrument given a few hours," Livvie said. I nodded in agreement. "You guys play the school dances?" Ben asked me. "Yeah, that and parties. We just played a huge block party on July Fourth. We're actually playing a house party for a friend of mine this weekend." "You plan on trying to 'make it'?" Ben asked me. I laughed. "Well, I wouldn't turn it down, but we don't play original songs yet, so we're not thinking of that right now. But we've talked about it. I do write songs, as does Michelle, and we know that if we want to start playing the clubs in Boston when we all go to college, we'll have to start playing our own stuff. For now, though, it's just fun." "Well, if you're planning on college, then you have a back-up plan anyway," Ben said. "Well, I don't know. Music's probably the back-up plan," I laughed. "We all want to keep the band together as long as we can pull it off, but we're all planning on college. And I'll probably eventually end up in medical school." "Are you a good enough student for that?" he asked me. Livvie cracked up. "Oh, I didn't tell you I was going out with a genius? This jerk got 1600 on his SATs this past spring. And he's ranked second in the class." "Oh," Ben said. "Wow." Well, good. Remember, he was a college professor. That little bit of info was going to impress him much more than me being in a band. I could visibly see him relax when he realized his daughter's boyfriend wasn't just a long haired rock and roller. "When did you guys meet?" he asked. "Hmm," Livvie thought. "When was it? Ninth grade?" "Eighth. Science class," I reminded her. "Oh, yeah. But I really didn't know you until ninth, when I started hanging out with Beth." "True," I agreed. "Beth was my best friend," I told Ben. "She befriended Livvie at the beginning of ninth grade. That's when Livvie and I got to be friends, through Beth." "I told you what my life was like, the crummy clothes, the lack of friends," she said to Ben. He nodded. "Beth picked me out and started hanging out with me. She was my first real friend." "That's Beth for you," I agreed. "If she's that good of a friend to you, is there any way I could meet her while I'm here?" Ben asked. Ah, shit. He didn't have any idea what can of worms he'd just opened. But that innocent little question hit Livvie like a board across the face. She looked up, startled, her lower lip quivering, and moisture gathering in her eyes. "Beth..." she tried to say, but just couldn't get it out. Ben was looking at her completely confused. "Beth died about a year and a half ago," I quietly told him. "Died?" Ben asked, incredulous. "She had leukemia," I told him. "Oh, man," Ben said, in shock. "I didn't know." "You had no way to," I said. "You've lived a whole life I have no idea of," Ben said to Livvie. "Good and bad." "Mostly bad," Livvie said with a wry half-smile, though she was still sniffly. "Beth wasn't part of the bad," I said to her, softly but definitively. "Don't ever think that. Even though she's gone now, Beth was part of the good." "I know," she said. "Well, I'm trying." "I know you are," I said. "She befriended me out of the blue," Livvie told her father. "I always wondered if she did that just to take her mind off her own problems, because she was already sick when she did it." "She got diagnosed the summer before eighth grade," I told Ben, "and she knew from the start there wasn't much hope. But it wasn't quite like that," I told Livvie. "She was trying to pick out a worthy person to help out, yes. She feared that her life wasn't going to be worth anything, believe it or not." Livvie snorted at that ridiculous thought. "I know, but she told me as much. When I told her how much her friendship had meant to me, I think that's when she decided to spread the love, so to speak. But she genuinely liked you, a lot, don't make any mistake about that." "I know she did," Livvie said. "Anyhow, I got to know Eddie through Beth," she told her father. "After Beth died, well, I avoided Eddie. And tried to get solace through a series of guys. Let's just say that any previous boyfriend of mine before Eddie I would not have wanted you to meet." "I wasn't sure about him when you walked in," Ben said with a grin. "What?" Livvie said. "My genius nerd boyfriend?" she laughed. "It's the hair," I said with a chuckle. "I'll explain that when Livvie's done," I said. Ben nodded. "Right," Livvie said. "Anyhow, I dated a string of losers, figuring that was the best I could get. After the last one ended, which was last July, I got fed up. I realized I needed a true friend, so I called Eddie. Just as friends, mind you--he had a girlfriend at the time." "Yeah, Kara, my first--and third--true love," I laughed. "That's a long story. Let's just say that Kara goes to boarding school an hour away. We tried the long-distance thing, it was too tough. We still love one another, but she has a new very serious guy, and I have Livvie. When Livvie called me last summer, Kara and I had already decided we were going to end things at the end of the summer." "Yeah, but I didn't know that at the time," Livvie laughed. "I was just looking for a friend. And Eddie came through. It was after hanging out with him all summer as friends that I realized I was in love with him. And, luckily, Debbie figured it out and clued him in before I drove myself crazy over it." I laughed. "And I was free at the time. In fact, when I found out, I had just found out that Kara had met her new guy. I was genuinely happy for her, but I was also at a bit of a loss, if you know what I mean. Livvie came along at the perfect time." "In more ways than one," Livvie laughed. "You see, the band had its first gig a couple weeks after Eddie and I got together. If it hadn't happened then, I would've found myself waiting in a damn line, because the girls are all over him!" "Which is a new experience for me, believe me. Not that I'm not flattered, understand, but Livvie and I really love one another." Ben grinned, then softly asked, "Are you two sleeping together? And if the answer is yes, are you being careful?" I left that one for Livvie to decide how to answer. She went with the truth. "Yes and yes," she told her father, looking right at him. "Please understand, Dad, that Eddie was not my first." "Nor was she mine," I said. "Yeah, but you did it out of love." "Except for Christine, but we won't get into that fiasco," I said with a grimace. "Yes, let's not," Livvie laughed. "Anyhow, Dad, I slept with my other boyfriends to keep them around. I knew I didn't have to do that with Eddie. We made love because we wanted to." "I have no right to tell you what to do or what not to do, but if you're being careful, that's reassurance enough," Ben told her. "Very careful," I reiterated. "Believe me, I'd rather wait until after I get my ass through medical school before I have to worry about offspring." "Good plan," Ben chuckled. "But if an accident happened, you wouldn't be the one who had to worry about it." "Yes, I would," I said definitively. Livvie, I think, knew me well enough to know that's how I felt about it, but she still gave me a big beaming smile. Ben, for his part--well, that was the absolute best thing I could've ever said to reassure him about my relationship with his daughter, and I saw that on his face immediately. "Good," he said contentedly. "Now, what's with the hair?" Livvie laughed. "You mean, besides the fact that it's gorgeous and that I've told him if he cuts it I'll kill him?" Ben and I both laughed. "Oh, is that how it is?" Ben said. "Partially," I said. "Look, what she said is right. I really am a nerd. She's told you about my grades, and these stupid things don't help," I said, poking at my glasses. "I got hassled a lot, right up through eighth grade. I started getting myself in shape, which stopped the beatings I was getting." "Beatings?" Ben asked. "He was a punching bag," Livvie said sadly. "I saw some of it a little, and Beth told me it was really bad in seventh grade." "Right," I said. "In eighth grade, I got myself in shape which helped to stop that crap. And that's when Kara and I started dating the first time, which helped my image a little bit--especially since Kara told a whole bunch of people we slept together. I didn't say a word, except to Beth--I told Beth everything--but Kara spilled the beans. Losing my virginity before all the people who thought I was a nerd helped my image, which is why Kara told." "That'll do it," Ben laughed. "Especially when the info comes from the girl." "Right. But I'm still more nerd than not. Like I said, the glasses don't help--and I prefer to dress the way you see me now, which is fairly preppy. But I'm also in the most popular rock band at Cabot High. That is what I want people to think of when they see me walking down the hall. And I can't carry a guitar around school, so I grew my hair. Makes people see me as the rock guy, not the nerd." "I get it," Ben said. "The whole band have hair like that?" "Dave, our drummer, always did," I said. "Stan, the lead guitarist, his is a bit shorter than mine, but not short. Kenny, the piano player, has medium-length hair. His girlfriend's parents are rather strict--I think he keeps it respectable for their sake! And the girls all have long hair. Though Debbie wears hers up a lot." "And then there's Michelle," Livvie said with a laugh. "Oh, God," I laughed with her. "Jekyll and Hyde." Ben just looked at us questioningly. "Michelle's as much of a nerd as he is," Livvie said, pointing to me. "She's beautiful, and, well, she's..." "Well-endowed?" I said. "Yeah, that," Livvie laughed. "But in school, she's a complete preppy. She's ranked third in the class, too, so it's no act. She's a smart hands-off pristine preppy in school. But on stage? She dresses like a complete slut." "It's the funniest thing you ever saw," I told him. "The first gig, I walked backstage and saw her wearing this complete out-there get-up. I almost swallowed my tongue." "I think Stan did," Livvie laughed. "Then again, she was dressed very similarly," I said, pointing to Livvie, "which was a complete shock. I forgot about Michelle very quickly." "You didn't have to tell him that!" Livvie said in mock-dismay. "You should've worn that outfit here," I said. "Right. You ever notice that I never wear that outfit if I'm going somewhere I know that I have to sit down in public?" "Good point," I laughed. Ben just looked at us. Livvie covered her face, but I kept it up. "When she sits down in that skirt, you can tell what color her panties are." "You are horrible!" she said, whacking me on the arm. "It is, of course, my favorite skirt," I kept up. Ben just cracked up. "Hey, you guys are seventeen years old," he said. "None of this surprises me, OK? And I can tell how you feel about one another." Livvie and I smiled at one another. "Yeah, we do," I said. "But she's the only one seventeen. I'm only sixteen." "He's, like, eight months younger than I am," Livvie laughed. "You always date older women!" "Maybe that's because I keep meeting older women, considering I'm the youngest person in our class," I laughed. "I started school a year early," I told Ben. "I won't be seventeen until January. I just got my driver's license, she's had hers since December." "Started school a year early, and you're ranked second? That's even more impressive." I just blushed. Livvie laughed and said, "Now you know why I'm going out with him. Homework help!" "Yeah, right," I snorted. Ben just laughed. Just then, the food came. We ate, and chatted easily throughout the meal. SEPTEMBER 9th, 1981 The first day of our senior year in high school. And I actually drove to school--halleluiah. Even though Livvie had her own car, I picked her up and we drove to school together. Made me feel like a real boyfriend and all! Luckily, this was before the lawmakers in MA got all panicky about teen driving. Before I came back, there was this stupid law that a driver under 18 couldn't have another driver under 18 in the car, or something like that. I forget exactly what it said, but it restricted underage passengers in a car driven by a young driver. Sure, it was routinely ignored--I worked with teenagers and, believe me, it was ignored--but it was still stupid. Another 'penalize everyone to get at the few miscreants' law. I hated that shit. Remember back in school sometimes, there'd be a few kids acting up, and the teacher would penalize the whole class? Oh, that drove me nuts. Any teacher that did that--well, you were saying to me you were a shitty teacher who couldn't properly control your class. Laws doing the same thing piss me off just the same. Look, I drove like a nun. That was true the first time around, as well. They say that teenagers are reckless because they don't have a handle on their own mortality. Well, such a bromide does not apply when you've been whacked upside the head by your best friend's mortality. I was a good, careful driver. Although I wasn't adverse to lighting up a doobie or quaffing a rum-and-coke, I never touched anything if I was driving. I knew better. So, I was glad I didn't, in 1981, have to deal with any stupid panicky 'all teenagers are evil' laws. I happily drove Livvie to school. I was happy to be a senior. Especially this time around. Seniors are supposed to 'rule the school'--well, that became a lot more true when you were in the most popular band in school! We really did rule the place. It was fun. I didn't have to worry about the SATs, like so many of my peers, what with the 1600 I'd already gotten last spring. I know, you're thinking that was cheating, what with all the prior-life experience. Well, only a little. The first time around, I had gotten 1360 as a junior. So, the improvement was only a little. I didn't retake them as a senior last time around either. I did have to worry about college applications--though I was thinking I was going to apply Early Decision to BC. That's where I wanted to go. A few of us wanted to go there--not only Livvie, but Michelle and Debbie both wanted to go there, as did Kenny. Michelle could probably go Ivy League--so, for that matter, could I--but neither of us wanted to. "Harvard?" Michelle had said to me. "No, thanks. Too snobby for me." I agreed. Everyone in the band was talking Boston area for college. Stan joked that, "I'll probably end up at Salem State," though he was really talking about Framingham State, which was close enough to Boston to keep the band together. Dave and Karen were deciding between BU and Northeastern. It wasn't going to be a breeze senior year for me, however. I did want salutatorian. And I wasn't taking easy courses, either--I had three Advanced Placement courses. I was taking AP Calculus, Chemistry, and English Comp. You see, I had a plan. I knew what I wanted to do. I was going pre-med, but I was going to major in Psychology. That's right, I was thinking psychiatrist. The problem was, when you go pre-med but don't major in a hard science, there were a lot of courses you had to take. I mean, when I was pre-med the first time around, I'd majored in Biology. Most of the required pre-med courses also counted for the Bio major. That's not the case if you major in something like Psychology. It was almost like a double-major. Plus, there was all the general-type courses required by any college for a degree. It was a lot of courses to take. The way Advanced Placement classes worked was this: they were supposed to be the equivalent of college courses. At the end, there was an AP exam for each course. If you got a certain score on the exam, most colleges would give you credit for the relevant course--you were counted as taking it already. And I'd checked, and BC did accept AP credits. So, if I could test out of three things based on the AP tests, it would make my life a lot easier. Calculus was the one I worried about. I didn't 'get' Calculus the first time around! But it was also the one I really didn't want to have to worry about in college, in the middle of Psych courses and Organic Chemistry and all that. So I decided to give it a shot. I felt pretty confident, however, about the other two. Calculus was really the only gamble, so it was worth it. So, that's what my senior year looked like. Even considering I went to a harder school the first time, I don't remember being this busy! Well, I wasn't in a band back then. And I didn't have a girlfriend, either. We were talking about it as we met for lunch. Especially Michelle and I, as Michelle was also taking three AP classes. "At least, for me, band practice is a chance to see my boyfriend," she giggled. "Well, me too," I said. "When doesn't Livvie show up for practice? Very rarely." "I'm just a lovesick puppy following him around," she laughed. "We're not going to need the practice, what with all these gigs," Stan laughed. "Parties. The Halloween dance here again. A dance over at Cardinal Steen in a month." "I'm looking forward to that," I said. "I have friends at Cardinal Steen." "Yeah, and they really want to see you guys play," Olivia put in. "And my brother's trying to get us a gig over at the Junior High for once of the dances," I interjected. "This keeps up, we're going to have to stop these lunchtime chats--I'm going to need the time to study!" Michelle said, cracking us all up. OCTOBER 24th, 1981 I hadn't been kidding about being busy. The first month and a half of school passed in a flash. Between studying and gigs and everything else, it seemed like I couldn't get a minute to breathe. I didn't mind, though. I did manage to make time for Olivia. I was with her on this day, a Saturday. We were just hanging out over at my house. She'd been troubled, I knew that. Look, I understood. She was still there living with her mother--a mother she decided she'd never have any kind of normal loving relationship with. She'd told me a while back, "Even when she tries to explain, it's all about her, her, her. Doesn't care about anyone else. And I don't mean just me--she didn't care about her husband, or my father, or my brothers. None of us. She keeps trying to justify it by talking about how she was affected. I don't even want to listen anymore." What that meant was that I was her oasis. One of her few. She had a few others--her brothers had been great since the bombshell had been dropped. And she really did get along great with the rest of the band--in fact, she'd worked up a genuine friendship with Debbie, to the point of going out shopping together and all, sometimes including Michelle as well. But I was her main anchor. Well, the one that wasn't a thousand miles away. She talked to Ben, her father, on the phone every few days. They were really developing a relationship, which I was happy about. And Livvie had something to ask me about that relationship. After a bit of small talk and a not inconsiderable amount of kissing, Livvie got it out. "Dad asked me something on the phone last night." "Oh?" "He wants me to go out there for Thanksgiving. He's going to pay for the plane ticket. He wants me to meet my stepmother--and my brother and sister. I want to go. I want to see him again--and I think it's great that I have a 10-year-old sister and I really want to meet her, and my brother." She looked at me sideways. "Is that OK with you?" "Of course. I think it's great. Why wouldn't it be OK with me?" "Well, I won't be here for almost a week, and over a holiday." "I know. I'm not saying I won't miss you," I smiled at her. "But I understand why you want to go and I think you should." "Oh, thank you!" she yelped, hugging me. "I was worried you'd be upset." "Nah. Look, you have a father now, one that wants a relationship with you. You should have that. Besides which, you know you'd be spending half that weekend just watching us play, anyway." "True," she laughed. It was--we had gigs, parties, both the Friday and Saturday nights of Thanksgiving weekend. "Not that I don't love watching you play. But I'm glad you're not mad I'm going to see my father." "Of course not. I'm happy for you," I told her truthfully. She hummed happily and settled into my arms.We chatted for a while, and then I told her, "You know, I have something for you." "You do?" "Yeah. Let me go get it." I had it stashed in my room. I came down and gave it to her. She took off the wrapping paper, opened the box, and gasped. It was a gold necklace. Nothing too elaborate, but very nice and classy. "What's this for?" she got out in a half-whisper. "You don't know? I thought girls always kept track of that kind of thing," I said, bemused. She just looked at me. "Honey, it's a year tomorrow." That we'd been going out, I meant. "Oh, God, you remembered?" "Of course I remembered," I smiled. "Hey, I've never made it to a year with anyone before, so it's a momentous occasion." Which was true--in this life, anyway. Though Kara and I had gone out for more than a year total, it wasn't consecutive. "Me, neither. Going with someone a year, I mean," she sniffled. She looked down at the necklace. "Put it on?" "My pleasure," I grinned. I put it on, then I got a bear hug and a heart-stopping kiss for my trouble. And, later on, when we were alone, I got very handsomely rewarded. I must say, it's a special thrill to be making love with your naked girlfriend, when she's actually naked except for the necklace you just put around her neck! NOVEMBER 27th, 1981 The day after Thanksgiving. Another day, another gig. A house party. Don't ask me whose house--Kenny arranged all the details on this one. We were at the point where we were getting hired for gigs by people we barely knew, which was cool. We'd gotten all set up and tuned and everything, and had an hour or so to spare I was just kind of hanging around--with no Livvie to keep me occupied pre-gig, I was sort of at loose ends. I was sitting on the side of the stage, chatting a bit with Kenny and his girlfriend Lisa. Then someone plopped down next to me. It was my old grammar school pal, Danica Rosen. "Eddie! You guys are playing here? Wicked pissah!" I had to stifle the giggle. "Wicked pissah" was a common bit of early-eighties teenaged Boston slang that I don't think I'd heard since, well, the early eighties. The first time around! As you might have guessed, it roughly translated as "What a most excellent development!" Anyhow, Danica settled down next to me for a little chat. Not surprisingly, the first thing she asked me was, "So, where's Livvie?" I explained that, and then we just chatted about nothing in general. I knew she was still good friends with Kelly, so I'm not surprised she came up in the coversation. "She's OK," Danica told me, "but you re-emphasized what a nice guy she managed to let go of." "When I stuck up with her with Jim Samuels." "Right." "Wasn't all about her, though," I said. "That asshole put Debbie through the wringer Sophomore year." "I know, but you guys did the deed in the aftermath of him screwing over Kelly, so Kelly appreciated it." "That's good." Danica looked past us, to where Deb was working her magic with yet another guy. "As for her," she said, pointing at Deb, "I know she's your friend, but, damn--it drives me crazy." "What?" "How she scoops up all the guys." "So, go scoop some up yourself," I laughed. "Come on, Dani, you could. I know Debbie's got bigger tits than you do, but, outside of that, she's got nothing on you--you're damn pretty." Dani cracked up. "I can't believe I'm sitting here listening to you compare tits. You used to be so shy." I just shrugged and grinned at her. "Anyhow, thank you for saying I'm pretty. But, besides the tits, she's got another advantage." "What's that?" "You know what. I'm no prude, and I lost my virginity when I was going out with Nick Adams last year, but I don't give it away to all comers like she does. I have to be in love. Or at least capable of convincing myself I am." "Ah, Nick raked you over the coals?" "Sort of. It just wasn't what I thought it was. Hey, no regrets--I slept with him willingly and I don't regret it. But I'm not like Debbie. So I can't advertise like she does." "Debbie's not what you think she is," I maintained. "Right. Look at her with that guy over there. You mean to tell me he's not gonna get laid tonight?" "Tonight? Nope. He'll get a good make-out session, for sure. And, I won't lie to you, if he plays his cards right, he'll get laid in three dates or so. But Debbie doesn't sleep with everyone." "That's her reputation." "Yeah, and that was partially created by Jim Samuels." "OK, good point," Dani conceded. "But don't you think her reputation, true or not, helps her to pick up guys?" "Maybe, to a point, but that's not the big thing," I maintained. "Then what is the big thing?" "Look at her," I said, pointing to Deb. "She went up to the guy, not the other way around. That's rare." "What do you mean?" "Well, think about it. Have you ever asked a guy out?" "Well, no." "You see? Debbie doesn't wait around. She asks." "Asking is scary," Dani admitted. "Right. And us guys have to do the vast majority of the asking. And, believe me, it gets to be a pain in the ass. Because it is scary. I remember asking Kara out, I thought I was going to pee my pants." "I believe it," she laughed. "But don't guys expect to do the asking?" "Expect, maybe, but not enjoy. I've been asked. It was wonderful." "Livvie?" "Nope, Livvie agonized about it for months--typical girl." Dani managed to laugh at that. "Debbie tipped me off, but I still did the asking. Nope, it was Kelly." "Kelly asked you out?" "Yep." "And it didn't bother you?" "Not at all, I loved it. "So, you think that's a lot of Debbie's appeal? That she asks?" "Yep. Let me ask you something. You got your eye on someone?" "Yeah," she said. "You can keep a secret?" "You know I can," I grinned at her. "True," she grinned back. "Ben Askel." "Nice guy, from what I know. What's your relationship at the moment? Friends, acquaintances, he doesn't know you're alive--what?" She laughed. "Well, somewhere between acquaintances and friends. We have a couple classes together this year. We talk sometimes. Nothing major." "I'm guessing he doesn't know you're interested." "You'd be guessing right, as far as I know." "He just walked in, you know." "You're kidding!" she gasped. She looked around and spotted him, saying hello to someone right near the door. "Oh, shit." "No, Dani, listen to me--this is perfect. It's the perfect setting, because you don't have to ask him out. All you have to do is ask him to dance." "You think?" "I know. It's perfect. You ask him to dance, and then wait for a slow dance. And when you're dancing, just cuddle up. He'll get the message--and, you'll find out pretty damn quick if he's also interested." "And you don't think he'll mind being asked to dance?" "I guarantee it. Now, you'll no doubt shock the shit out of him. But he won't mind. Well, unless he's completely unattracted to you, but then at least you'll know. Or, if he has a girlfriend." "He doesn't, I know that much." She let out a nervous giggle. "I don't know if I can do it, though." Lisa, who had been right near me talking to Kenny, was looking at us. She walked over to me and said, "Who's your friend?" "This is Danica Rosen, I've known her since first grade," I said, grinning at Dani. "Dani, this is Lisa, Kenny's girlfriend." "Nice to meet you," Lisa said. "I couldn't help but overhear. I approached Kenny, you know." "You did?" Dani said. "Yeah. I met him at a party where these guys were playing. I parked myself over next to his piano and didn't leave all night," she laughed. "And, though I didn't ask him out, I did make sure he got my phone number. Then he asked me out." "Wow," Dani said. "You guys really think I should go for it?" "What have you got to lose?" I said. Lisa nodded agreement. "I'll even give you the heads-up. We play four fast songs to start with. The last of the four is 'Here Comes My Girl'. Then there's two slow songs, starting with 'Allison'. So, there's your marching orders." "Uh-huh," Dani giggled. "If you see me running for the bathroom during 'Here Comes My Girl', you know I chickened out." "Then I'll just make sure Lisa bars your way to the bathroom," I said. Both Lisa and Dani cracked up. "Thanks for the pep talk, Eddie," Dani said. "Anytime." Dani had seen us play a number of times, so she knew when "Here Comes My Girl" was coming to an end. When we got to the final chorus, I caught her eye. She gave me a grin, and then marched right over to Ben Askel. Good for her. I could see the surprise on his face, but Dani had no problem leading him to the dance floor just as we started "Allison". By the time we were midway through the second set, playing "Sara", you couldn't have wedged a piece of paper between Dani and Ben's dancing bodies! While I was strumming away on the guitar part, I looked over to the side of the stage and caught Lisa's eye. I pointed with my head towards Dani and Ben. Lisa looked at them, then looked back at me with a big thumbs-up! DECEMBER 12, 1981 This was a Saturday, and I was with Livvie. Things had been weird since Thanksgiving. Outwardly, she seemed fine. She told me she had a great time with her father, and loved her step-mother and her brother and sister. But she was weird. One day, she was all over me. The next day, she was distant. And on and on. And she just seemed very, very preoccupied. I'd asked her a few times if anything was wrong. She kept telling me no, nothing's wrong. Today, she finally decided to tell me what was wrong. We'd just made love in her bed. We were sitting there cuddling. And it was the same thing--she'd been all over me, but now, afterwards, she was distant. "I have something to tell you," she said. "OK." "I'm sorry, Eddie. I've been trying to tell you this for three weeks. I haven't known how to do it. But you have to know, and I have to just get it over with." I sat there, holding my breath, knowing this wasn't going to be good. I was right. "When I was out with my Dad, I made a decision. I made a decision about colleges. I'm not going to go to BC." "Where are you going to go?" I asked, knowing the answer. I was right. She looked at me with a sad look in her eyes and said, "Eddie, I've decided to go to Eastern Michigan, where my Dad teaches." Eastern Michigan. A thousand fucking miles away. Shit. ------- Chapter 17 "PLEASE LET ME WONDER, IF I'VE BEEN THE ONE YOU LOVED" DECEMBER 20, 1981 Livvie's mind was made up, and I couldn't change it. "Look," she said, "I do not want to break up with you. We can do this. I'll be home for breaks and the summer. We can do this." "I've done a long-distance relationship before. It wasn't much fun. And this is a far bigger distance," I told her. "Does that mean you're not even going to try?" "I don't know," I said. "I'll have to think about it." "Well, isn't that just great!" "Don't blame me!" I snapped at her. "I'm not the one pulling a last-minute change of plans." "You know, you can go with me," she said. "Not Eastern Michigan, that's not a good enough school for you. But the University of Michigan is very close by, and that's a great school." "Why on earth would I go to Michigan?" "To be with me?" "Well, since you're going out there, and your mind is made up, you being with me doesn't seem that important to you, does it?" "No, that's not true," she said. "It's just that I need a family. I've never had one. Now I can have one." And on and on. Look, part of me understood. But what I saw that she didn't was that this would be the end of Livvie and me. No doubt in my mind. What I felt, but couldn't say, was that even if we tried the long-distance thing, she would never stick to it. I'd get a Dear John letter before Freshman year was over. I had no doubt about it. Even with her father out there for her, Livvie would get lonely for male companionship. Like I said, I couldn't say that. It would really upset her. I guess I figured I'd probably try the long-distance thing. Not exactly how I expected to spend my college years, I'll tell you that. However, I knew I'd be busy with schoolwork and the band once I got to college. Maybe it'd be better to have a girlfriend but not have to worry about actually spending any time with her. It would be kind of lonely, though. And, like I said, I had no faith she'd keep to it. On this day, Sunday the 20th, we had a band practice. The gang noticed I was a bit preoccupied--they also noticed Livvie wasn't there, which was unusual. After rehearsing, I told them. "Damn, that's tough," Michelle said. "Are you going to try a long-distance relationship?" "I don't know." Then I told them what I couldn't say to Livvie. "Quite honestly, I can't see Livvie holding to it." "I can," Debbie argued. "She loves you." "She also loves to be loved. And I don't think loved by someone a thousand miles away counts." "It might be different with her father there," Stan pointed out. "It might. I don't know," I sighed. "She's got a good reason for going out there," Debbie pointed out. "Yeah, I know. I just wish she didn't." "Well, if she can keep to it, God knows we're gonna keep you busy enough," Stan laughed. "You know, breaking this fantabulous band into the Boston music scene. And that's beside all that studying you're gonna have. You won't have no time to pamper a girlfriend." "Is that a warning?" Michelle smirked. "No, honey. It's a lot easier to juggle a band and pampering a girlfriend when said girlfriend is in the band," Stan chuckled. "Right answer," Michelle told him. "He's well-trained," I laughed. "Then again, there's a problem with no girlfriend to pamper." "What's that?" Michelle asked. "No sex." Debbie cracked up. "Maybe you can negotiate just being faithful in love, not sex. You know, tell Livvie she's got your heart, but you're gonna loan your dick out. You'll get laid after every gig." I just grinned. "Don't give him any ideas," Michelle laughed. DECEMBER 25th, 1981 Livvie came over for Christmas. It was, well, strained. We kept it together through the gift-opening. We kept it together throughout dinner over my Grandmother's. Afterwards, driving around, is when it started to unravel. "All right," she said as I drove down the street, "tell me what you're afraid of." "Fear is only part of it. Dammit, Livvie, I feel abandoned." "Great. Now you know how I've felt most of my life." "And how is that my fault?" "It isn't." "Then why am I the one that has to pay for it?" Agitated as hell, I blurted it out. "As for fear, I can't see you lasting in a long-distance relationship for even a year. That's what I'm afraid of--the inevitable Dear John letter." The icy silence lasted a good minute. "If that's the way you feel," she finally said, "well, then, maybe we should just break up now and be done with it." "Maybe we should," I said quietly. That got to her. "Are you serious?" "You brought it up." "It was a bluff!" "Well, I just called it. Maybe we should end it now." "You'd throw away what we have just like that?" The anger came back. "The way I see it, you are the one doing that." "No. No, I'm not. Look, I said it before--you could go with me. That would solve the whole thing. It's not too late to apply to Michigan." Pissed as hell, I abruptly pulled into a parking lot. "First of all, it is. I applied Early Decision to BC. That means if they accept me, I'm obliged to go there." "Oh, yeah." "And even if that weren't the case, you're missing the damn point. Why would I go to Michigan?" "For me?" "Not enough." "And you think you're enough to keep me here?" "You just don't fucking get it," I hissed. "Everything I have is here. Everything. I'm comfortable in this part of the country. I'm a Boston guy. I have a whole family, and it's here. Plus, it's not just my family. It's my friends. It's the band. It's everything." What I couldn't say is that I learned that the hard way the first time. Going to St. Louis for college, as I did the first time, was a disaster--and I didn't leave nearly as much behind that time as I would be this time. Anyway, it was something I was sure of. I'd be miserable at Michigan, Livvie or not. I took a breath. "You, on the other hand--even if you boil down everything that's important to you in Boston to just me, it's still a fifty-fifty shot. Me, or your Dad. You made your choice. How's that supposed to make me feel?" "It's not just that," she said. "I need to get out of here." "Jesus, Livvie, you wouldn't be living at home if you went to school in Boston! Your father said he'd cover all your costs, no matter where you went, so you'd be in the dorm. It's not like you'd have your damn mother there." "I know," she said. "I just... it's hard to put into words. Do you realize all my friends are yours? I've not made a single friend on my own. The one time in my life I made a friend on my own, it was Beth, and she did it." "Yeah, I know." "I just think I need a little independence, but I also need my Dad. I don't know if that makes any sense. It probably doesn't." She sighed. "You really think I wouldn't be able to keep a long-distance relationship?" Calmer, I still was honest with her. "No, Livvie, I'm sorry. I don't." "Does that mean you won't try?" "I'm still trying to decide that." "Do you love me?" "Of course. You know I do," I said firmly. "Isn't that enough?" I sighed. "Look, I want you to take this the way I mean it, and not as me trying to throw something in your face, OK? Think about what I mean by this." She nodded. "I love Kara, too." She thought for a minute. "Kara and you only ended because of distance? If Kara had gone here, instead of away, you think you'd still be together?" "The answer to the first question is yes. The second question's a huge what-if, but probably." "But you're telling me you never fell out of love with her." "I didn't. And I never will." "I don't get what you're trying to tell me." "I'm trying to tell you that love isn't enough. Love is one thing. Relationships are another. Love just is. Relationships need nurturing. My feelings for Kara will never change--but the nature of our relationship did." "And you think if I go that far away, the nature of our relationship will change?" "I think it's a distinct possibility." "OK. I understand what you're saying." She took a deep breath. "I hate doing this to you, but I think it's a chance I need to take." "Yeah, I figured," I said. "I want to try to maintain our relationship. But I'm not going to twist your arm." She got a wry little grin. "Not that I could anyway. It's up to you." I nodded. "What about now?" "We're together now, Livvie." "OK. Good," she sighed, with a hint of a smile. "Look, it's not just my Dad, you know." "What do you mean?" "Mary--she's Dad's wife, my stepmother. I was out there for three days and she mothered me more than my own damn mother has done my entire life. And Kerry, my sister--well, being hero-worshiped by a 10-year-old girl was very cool." I had to chuckle. "I could work on Erin if that's what you need." She cracked up. "Are you kidding me? Erin? Your sister Erin? She wouldn't stoop to hero-worship if Jesus Christ Himself plopped down in her bedroom." "Good point," I had to agree with a laugh. Livvie was right--hero-worship wasn't Erin' style. Except if the hero being worshipped was Erin. "Then again, Declan does. Hero-worship you, I mean." "I don't think that's hero-worship, dear, that's 13-year-old lust." "Can't argue with that. Anyhow, I understand the reasons for you going. I do. I just feel like it's a contest that I've lost." "I know that's how you feel. But I also know that it's not true, it's not why I'm doing this. Eddie, I'm 17 years old, almost 18. I've never had a Daddy. And I'm almost getting too old for one." "Livvie, now that you've found him, he'll always be your father." "I didn't say father, I said Daddy. There's a difference." "Yeah, I suppose there is," I agreed. JANUARY 10th, 1982 My seventeenth birthday. It was a Friday, so I went to school. When I got home, there it was, sitting in the day's mail. The acceptance letter from Boston College. I was happy. But I wasn't as thrilled as I thought I'd have been. I got a quick call from Michelle, who'd also applied early decision and who got her acceptance letter today as well. She was thrilled, which helped me regain my enthusiasm. It was, after all, where I really wanted to go. So, it was a nice talk and we were making plans and joking. "You know, we really should room together," Michelle laughed. "We're the best of friends and I know you wouldn't mind occasionally getting lost when Stan comes to visit." "All true, but I don't think BC lets guys and girls room together," I laughed. "There's always Debbie, though. I know she didn't apply early decision, so she doesn't know yet, but she should get in and BC is her first choice." "We've talked about it," Michelle told me. "We might, but Debbie thinks she wants to room with someone she doesn't know, you know, to meet new people." "I can see that. All the college advice I've ever read says don't room with a hometown friend." "Right. And it's not like Deb and I won't get sick of each other in band practice!" So, talking to Michelle made me feel better. Like I said, I really did want to go to BC. I guess I was just in a funk since Livvie had dropped her bomb. It was times like this when I truly felt seventeen, not half-seventeen and half-forty seven. Especially in the context of a seventeen-year-old high school senior trying to plan out his life. Because that's what I was, despite the past life. This was the one I had to live, and in this one, I was seventeen--about to graduate high school, planning for college. College was part of it, and plans for that were well underway. But other plans were now becoming more nebulous. Look, even at seventeen, the minute you start dating--especially if you're a diehard romantic, which I was--you start asking that question about every girl you date: "Is she the one?" Then, of course, there's the bigger question: is there a "one"? I was inclined, at this point in my life, to say no. Don't get me wrong, I still believed in true love, and I still believed in something akin to soulmates. But what I was beginning to think was that there wasn't one. I mean, one true soulmate. I think there was more than one, or at least more than one possibility. I guess I'd realized that when I had an amicable breakup with Kara. Because if there was only one true soulmate, she was mine. If I believed there was a "one", I would've believed she was it, and wouldn't have broken up with her quite so easily. And, I guess, realizing I was as happy with Livvie as I had been with Kara only reinforced that belief. I will say that thinking along these lines did make Livvie's impending move a thousand miles away a lot easier to take. Of course, that might just be rationalization! With all this whirling through my mind, I gave Kara a call. When she'd been home for Christmas, we'd gotten together, and she knew there was something on my mind, but I hadn't felt comfortable talking about it yet. On this day, I decided to, so I gave her a call. "Hey, I was just gonna call you," she said when she picked up the phone. "Happy birthday!" Good ol' Kara, she remembered. After a bit of small talk, I hit her with it. "Oh, man, that's tough," she said. "Michigan? That might as well be on the moon. You going to try to have a distance thing?" "She wants to." "And you're less than enthusiastic." "I don't think she'll be able to stick to it." Kara laughed. "Funny, I don't think you would!" "You know me better than that." "Yes, true, but let's face it, Eddie--you're going to have a whole hell of a lot of temptation." "Yeah, right, they're lining up as we speak," I snorted. "You have no idea, do you?" she said incredulously. "No idea about what?" "About what's gonna happen. Look, you know I love you. I loved you in eighth grade. But it's a realistic love. I know what you're about. I love you because you're sweet and giving and smart and interesting. And you're a great kisser," she laughed. "But it was realistic. I knew you for years before I fell in love with you. Plus, if you remember, you had to talk me into that first date," she laughed. "I figured that's the way it was with you. Though you're attractive, you're not gorgeous, and you can be awkward. I loved you, still do, but I figured you were an acquired taste, that you don't hit anyone between the eyes." "I agree with all that," I laughed. "But being an acquired taste pre-empts them from lining up at the door. You know what I mean? If that's the case, I should be able to avoid temptation." "I'm not done," she said. "That's what I used to think. I don't think all of that anymore. What you don't get is you've transformed yourself." "How did I do that?" I asked, bemused. "You joined a band," she said. "You don't get what you look like up on stage, singing, playing your guitar. Your attractiveness is multiplied by about twenty, and your awkward bit disappears completely. Look, I love the Eddie I've always known--but the first time I saw you play, it was like seeing Eddie squared. And you're gonna go into Boston and start playing the clubs? They are going to be lining up. Guaranteed." "You're exaggerating." "No, I'm not." She took a deep breath. "That first time I saw you guys play? Look, as much as I love Peter--and I do--I almost dumped him on the spot. So I could go attack you. I'll be honest, the only thing that really stopped me from doing so was Olivia. I knew that you had just gotten together with her, you were happy, and I love you too much to fuck with you like that. But if you'd been single that night? Peter would've been history and I would've been on you like a leech." "You're kidding," I gasped. "No, I'm not. Look, I've seen you play a few times and I'm more used to it right now, and I really do love Peter. But, shit, Eddie, it was incredible. Look, you're a reasonably charming guy in any case. But when you're on stage? That's not charm, that's charisma, and buckets of it. It shoots out of your pores like sparks. I can barely describe it. You've no idea how appealing you are onstage. And when you get offstage, then whoever it is that's pounced on you will figure out all those other cool things about you." "I think you're just biased," I chuckled. "You think so? Trust me, I'm not the only girl that's noticed it. And we'll be able to test it. Don't forget, I'll be attending school 20 minutes from Boston, and it's an all-girl school." Kara was going to go to Wellesley. "When you start gigging in Boston, I'll be there. And I'll bring friends. They're going to pounce on you." "We'll see," I laughed. "Peter's going to school in Boston?" I said, changing the subject. "Yeah. Harvard, where else?" she laughed. "Legacy, and all that." Peter's father had gone to Harvard, Kara had told me that. "Which is close enough to Wellesley, now that we're older and have cars and all that. We don't consider it long-distance." "Nope, you shouldn't, considering one of my band mates is planning on Framingham State, and Framingham's past Wellesley." "Stan?" "Yeah. Michelle got into BC Early Decision as I did, so at least I'll have her to go bug." "When Stan's not visiting, you mean," she laughed. "Exactly!" FEBRUARY 24th, 1982 I suppose some of what Kara said had sunk in, though I really wasn't thinking of it that way. But I did, a little. It's the age-old question: do you stay with someone because you love them, or because you're afraid of being alone? Well, if Kara was right, I didn't need to be afraid of being alone. Now, don't get me wrong--I loved Livvie. If she were staying local, I wouldn't be asking myself that question. But I was--because it was do you stay with someone you're not going to have a real relationship with? All this was compounded by the fact that Livvie had insisted on going to Michigan for February break, which had been the previous week. This time, I protested--if she were leaving for good in late August, we should have every minute together we could. And we'd always spent loads of time together on school breaks. She went anyway. I guess what had kind of crept into my mind is that I was going to live for me, not for me-and-Livvie. And I felt it was a decision that had been taken out of my hands, which probably made me even more upset about it. That decision cropped up on this day. It was a Wednesday. We had band practice. But before we got started playing, Kenny had something to tell us. Kenny had sort of become our defacto booking agent--people tended to go to him with gigs. That was fine with us; he was good at organizing such things, and he enjoyed it. On this day, he had a biggie for us. "The student council wants us to play the prom," he said. "Our prom, the Senior Prom." "Wow!" Debbie squealed. "That would be so awesome!" "Would it?" Kenny asked. "Why wouldn't it?" Debbie asked. "Well, you have to ask that question to your fellow bandmates who have girlfriends or boyfriends," Kenny asked. "Do you guys want to spend your Senior Prom onstage?" Stan and Michelle looked at each other and grinned. "Hell, yes!" Stan said. Dave and Karen shared a similar look. "Of course," Karen said. "Playing or dancing? That's a no-brainer. We can still go to the prom. We just won't be dancing. Who the hell wants to dance?" "Exactly," Michelle agreed. "I think we should do the whole bit, though." "What do you mean?" Debbie asked. "I think we should dress up. You think you guys can play in tuxes?" We all nodded. "It might be a little hot, but we can undo ties and stuff in the second set," Stan laughed. "Right," Michelle grinned. "So, we treat it as a prom. We get dressed, we show up, get our pictures taken, sit down to eat and all. Just, instead of getting up to dance, we get up to play." "That sounds great!" Karen said. "Right," Michelle agreed. "Well, we have the established band couples in agreement, now we just have to hear from the two guys whose girlfriends aren't in the band." "I've already talked to Lisa. She's not much for dancing, either," Kenny grinned. "She did say something about dressing up, though, so she'll like Michelle's idea." "Good. Now, how about you?" she asked me. "I'm in." "Shouldn't you talk to Livvie first?" "I'm in," I repeated firmly. "I want to do this." "OK," Michelle said, hesitantly. "We're gonna play the prom, then?" We all agreed. In fact, we were all looking forward to it. FEBRUARY 26th, 1982 Livvie was absolutely not happy. We were out, sitting at a roast beef restaurant, when I told her. "You're what?!" she hissed. "You can't!" "We're still going to go, Livvie," I told her. "We're going to get dressed up and the whole thing." "But I want to dance at my prom!" "That never bothered you before." "It wasn't a prom before!" "What difference does it make? The big deal with a prom is the whole dressing up thing, and we're going to do that. Outside of that, it's just another dance." "It's not another dance for me. And what really bugs me is that you just did this, without even discussing it with me!" I just looked at her. I didn't say it, I just looked at her. She got it. "OK, so this is some kind of epic revenge?" she asked. "Because I'm going away?" "No, it's not revenge," I told her. "It's me deciding to do what's best for me. Just like you did." "They're not the same thing." "No, they're not," I riposted. "My decision only deals with one night out of our lives. Yours deals with four years." She calmed down a little. "Look, Eddie, that's one of the reasons I wanted the prom. You know, one night for us before I go away." "Well, that's not all that important to me anymore," I said. She looked like I'd slapped her. I felt bad about that, but that's the way I felt. "I think you should take me home now," she said in a clipped voice. "Fine by me," I shrugged. We were driving, and she said, "There's no way I can talk you out of this?" "No," I said. "Could I talk you out of going to Michigan?" "This is some sort of revenge!" "No, it's not." By that time, we were pulling up in front of her house. "Listen to me. I'm not trying for revenge. I'm just doing what I want to do." "Make my prom miserable?" "No. Make mine not. If I didn't play and just went to the prom with you, I wouldn't have a good time." "You wouldn't have a good time dancing with me?" "OK," I said with a little grin, "because I've been in a band the entire time we've been going out, this hasn't ever come up before. But let me tell you a little secret about myself. I absolutely hate to dance. Hate it, hate it, hate it. Dancing is for people that can't play an instrument. As Schroeder once said to Lucy, 'Musicians don't dance.' The closest I ever want to get to dancing is air guitar. Shit. What do you think is one of the reasons I'm so damn happy I play in a band? Because I never have to dance!" "Oh," she said, finally flashing at least the hint of a smile. "I didn't know that." "Now you do," I grinned. "Look, I could grudgingly say yes. And you might, and I said might, drag me out on the floor to dance to a slow song or two. And the rest of the night you'd be badgering me to dance some more and I'd be resistant. Plus, I'm not a good dancer. At all. I'm much better at singing." "I get you. So this really isn't about me going to Michigan?" "Not mostly, but I'm not going to lie to you. You going to Michigan has made me less willing to sacrifice my own desires for yours. If you weren't going to Michigan, I probably would've agreed." "But grudgingly, and only for me, and you wouldn't have had a good time." "Right." "OK. I have to think about this, but I'm less upset about it than I was." She gave me a genuine grin. "You really hate dancing?" "Oh, you betcha," I chuckled. "Look, we're learning a new song, 'Only The Lonely' by the Motels. It's just out recently. But it's a slow dance song. And I don't play on it. It's my break song," I laughed. "So, you get one dance." "Well, there's that, then," she smiled. "I have to think about it." "OK." She went inside then. I did get a goodbye kiss, at least. FEBRUARY 27th, 1982 This day, a Saturday, we had a band practice. We did it early, though, as Kenny had something to do in the afternoon. So we got together about 9:30 in the morning and played until one. Afterwards, Michelle, Debbie and I decided to go over to the mall across the street from Stan's house and get some lunch. Stan was going to come, but his mother loudly reminded him he'd promised to clean up something-or-other. "She never forgets the damn chores," he grumbled. "You guys go. No hitting on my girlfriend!" he told me. "You spoil all my fun," I grinned. "Mine, too," Michelle twinkled. That even made Stan crack up! Anyhow, we got over to the mall and decided to hit the Friendly's. We sat in a booth and chatted through the burgers. I told them about my conversation with Livvie the previous night. "Man, that's tough," Michelle said. "You were kind of asking for it, though, by not even asking her." "Yeah, I know," I agreed. "She's right about that--but I'm with you," Debbie said with a giggle. "Who the hell wants to dance? How freakin' boring!" "That part I do agree with," Michelle laughed. "I love Stan, but the only thing I dance with is my bass. He'll get the one dance at the wedding, and that's my dancing days." "And I'll bet he agrees wholeheartedly," I said. "Oh, no doubt!" "This is why I'm glad I don't have a steady boyfriend," Debbie said. "Far less complications." "Hey, everybody in the band except you has a partner, but I'm the only one with a complication," I said. "That's because everyone in the band is dating someone else in the band," Debbie laughed. "Except for Kenny. And when Kenny says 'jump', Lisa asks 'how high?'" That cracked us all up, but I had to say, "That's not as bad as you think. That works both ways." "Tell me one thing that Lisa asked Kenny to do that he's done," Debbie said. "Did you notice he got a haircut?" I laughed. "That was Lisa. Well, it was because her parents freak out, but Lisa asked him to do it." "All right, all right," Debbie laughed. "Lisa and Kenny's relationship aside, everyone else in the band is dating someone in the band." She bat her lashes at me. "Maybe you should've dated someone in the band." "What? You?" Michelle laughed. "You two would be tearing each other apart within a week if you ever dated!" "Well, yeah, but the make-up sex would be dynamite!" Debbie said. I was in a full blush by this point! "You don't need to date someone to have sex," Michelle riposted. "Deb, you of all people know that!" "True, very true," Deb said, grinning, still batting her lashes at me. "Yeah, yeah, yeah," I said, still blushing. "You just point your baby-blues elsewhere, Romelski. I'm still taken." "Today," Deb said. "Now, now, let's not tempt the poor boy," Michelle laughed. "We're supposed to be helping him fix things with Livvie, remember?" "We are?" Deb said, all mock-innocence. "That's not how I answered the poll." I just glared at her--probably not looking as fierce as I was trying to! "All right, all right," she grinned. "I'll stop trying to wheedle my way into your bed." "Today," Michelle laughed. "Yeah, you're a big help," I said to Michelle. "Ain't I?" "Seriously, Eddie," Debbie said, "what do you plan to do?" "We're playing the prom. That's final. The rest of it, I guess I'll just play by ear." "All my kidding aside," Debbie said, "you know she loves you." "To a point," I said. "Yes, she does, but only to a point." "She's in a tough position," Michelle said. "You do realize that." "I know all that," I said, slightly exasperated. "And I was trying to see her side of it. Until she gave me the big shitstorm about us playing the prom." "Why did that bother you?" Michelle said. "Because it was like, OK, I want you to do everything my way. Until I abandon you for Michigan." "All right, I see your point," Michelle said, "but stilll..." "I don't know if there's any 'but stills' involved anymore," Debbie put in. "Because Eddie's right. Livvie's got no business bugging him about doing what's best for him at the prom--because she is abandoning him. If she can do what's best for her with something as big as going away for four years, the prom's a minor thing and she should understand." "Thanks, Deb. The check's in the mail," I joked. "She's just agreeing with you because she's still trying to wheedle her way into your bed,"Michelle laughed. "No, seriously, Eddie, I do understand why you're upset." "Thanks. Wish Livvie did." "She'll come around," Michelle said. "Anyhow, changing the subject, how are your grades this year?" "Just great. Still straight A's. Even in calculus." "I hate your guts," Michelle laughed. "You're not going to let me sneak in there for salutatorian, are you?" "Not on your life!" MARCH 13th, 1982 I tried. I really did. Livvie was still upset about the prom. I was trying to make it up to her. Until today. Today, I gave up. I was trying not to take anything personally. I really was. But what she told me today, I couldn't help it. "Oh, by the way," she said as we were driving in the car, "I'm going back to Michigan for April vacation." I almost drove off the road. "You're what?" "Is this a problem?" she said. "No. No, of course not. Why would it be a fucking problem? You're going to Michigan permanently in five fucking months. Why on earth would you going out there for another damn week be a problem? Especially when it's a vacation week. I mean we have all the time in the world, why would you cutting down on that time be a fucking problem?" I abruptly pulled over to the side of the road. "Here's an idea. Why don't you just stay there? Finish high school out there. Don't fucking come back. You're so eager to get out there with Daddy, don't fucking bother coming back." "You're upset," she said. "No shit." "I have to go." "Bullshit. Not now, not April vacation, you don't." "I have things to do, things to set up," she said weakly. "Like what? It's too early to register for classes. You've already seen the campus." "There's some paperwork I have to sign. For some of the financial stuff, since Dad teaches there." "He couldn't send that stuff out to you and have you mail it back signed?" I snorted. "Well, I suppose he could. Look, if you don't want me to go, I won't go," she said, although a bit petulantly. And I caught it. "Oh, no, you don't," I snapped. "You're not going to put that on my head. You already decided to go, again not giving a crap about how I might feel, so go." "You're right, I don't care how you feel," she snapped back. "All you've tried to do since I told you I was going away to school is make me feel guilty, and try to get back at me." "Fine." I was still pulled over. I quickly pulled into the street. And just as quickly made a U-turn. "Where are you going?" she said. "I'm taking you home. You don't care about how I feel? You don't have to fucking worry about it any more." "What does that mean?" "It means we're done. Over. No longer dating." She stared straight out the car window for a beat. Then she said, in a near-whisper, "God, that's not what I want." "Probably not. You want to have your cake and eat it too. Basically at my expense. I've had it." "Look, really, if it means that much to you, I'll cancel the trip in April." "Why? You just said you don't care how I feel." "Well, I didn't mean it that way." We pulled up in front of her house. "I get it," I said. "What you meant is that you figured I'd just roll over like a puppy. You've been thinking that since you decided to go away to school. Jesus, Livvie, do you really think I'm that much of a wimp?" "No, it's not that. I guess I don't understand. If you're that upset about being away from me for a week, why would you break up with me? Isn't that cutting off your nose to spite your face?" "I didn't break up with you because you're going away. I broke up with you because you admitted that you don't care how I feel. And that's become a pattern. You don't care. It's been plain as day for months." "I didn't mean it like that. I do care. I just have to do what's right for me." "You know, that may be a justification for you going out there to school. But going out there for April vacation? It doesn't work." "You're acting like I'm doing it to deliberately screw you over or something!" "Yes, I am, aren't I?" I said. "You really think that?" "Yes." "Dammit, Eddie, not everything is about you!" "And that's the problem. Nothing is about me. I don't ever enter your thought process anymore. I don't expect everything to be about me. But if you're supposed to be my damn girlfriend, it should sometimes be about me, shouldn't it?" She didn't say anything to that--because she couldn't. "You don't have to go. And even if you did--you ever think of asking me to come along?" "Dad's paying for my ticket," she said. "I figured, but you know I have the money to pony up for my own ticket." "And I'm staying with Dad." "And if he didn't want me there, I could afford a hotel, too. At least we'd be in the same state for vacation." "I didn't think you'd go," she finally said weakly. "But you never even bothered to ask, did you?" "No. I'm sorry. Eddie, I don't want to break up with you." "I'll think about it," I said. APRIL 25th, 1982 We didn't break up. But, like I said, I pretty much gave up. We went out. We spent time together. We even had sex every so often. But my heart wasn't in it. And, because of that, I'll admit it--I became somewhat of a bastard. I blew her off if I had something else to do. Barely paid attention to her half the time when we were together. I was just disinterested. And it really wasn't me trying to punish her or anything like that--I really was becoming disinterested, more and more every day. I guess we were still together more out of inertia than anything else. Did I love her? Sure. But I didn't love, or like for that matter, the way I was being treated. I was an afterthought. So I made her one. She didn't like it. I guess it all came to a head the Friday that April Vacation started. She asked me to drive her to the airport--her flight left at 7 pm. She didn't want to leave her car at the airport all week. "Sorry, I have plans," I told her. "Plans?" "Plans. I'm going out for dinner and a movie with some friends." "Who?" "Stan, Michelle, Debbie, and DeeDee from up my street. Her friend Ashley might come, too." "You can't postpone that until Saturday or something?" "Why would I want to?" I told her. "I don't want you going to Michigan in the first place, so I should cancel my plans to drive you to the airport? How does that make sense?" "Fine," she snorted. Like I said, I just wasn't in a nice mood. It all came to a head on this day. It was a Sunday, and Olivia had gotten back from Michigan that morning. She called me that afternoon, and asked me to come over. "I was thinking all week," she said when I got there, "and I've decided that I don't want to miss my Senior Prom." "You're not going to miss it," I said. "By your lights, I'm not. But as far as I'm concerned, I am. I'm done being the adoring girlfriend of mister high-and-mighty rock star. I want to go to the prom with someone that'll pay some attention to me there. So, I'm going to find another date." "If you do that, it's the end for us," I said calmly. "I know," she replied, just as calmly. "I'm sorry. But we're not getting along anyway. I'm not going to sacrifice the biggest night of high school for a relationship that's dying." So, that was that. Sure, I saw it coming--and I know I helped it along. It was probably for the best. But, damn. Not for the first time, I rued the day her father ever stepped back into her life. Damn. ------- MAY 1st, 1982 I just stuck with the rest of my life. The gang consoled me, as best they could. I was all right, really. Upset, sure--but I survived other breakups, I'd survive this one. I did love her, yes. But we were moving in different directions. "I have one question," Deb had asked me. "Are you going to be OK up on stage playing at the prom, when you're looking down and seeing her there with some other guy?" "Yeah," I told her. "In fact, I want to make sure we kick some serious ass at this prom." "That's the spirit!" Stan laughed. This day, a Saturday, we were practicing. We'd worked on the set list some, adding new songs. We got a surprise this day. Debbie had already gotten some vocal time in some of the new songs. We'd added The Go-Go's "Our Lips Are Sealed" to the set, and Debbie was doing Jane Wiedlin's part. Which was the high harmony throughout the whole song--but also the lead vocal on the middle eight. We'd also worked up a version of "Under Pressure" with Debbie taking Freddie Mercury's part--and going up an octave with it. It was fantastic. I'd suggested it, and Debbie went with it. I'd heard a bootleg of Bowie doing this song with one of his female backup singers doing the Freddie Mercury part like that, up an octave, so that's what gave me the idea. Of course, that bootleg was from 2001 so I couldn't exactly tell Debbie about it! But she got the basic idea and went for it. However, duets--and backing vocals, which she'd always done--were one thing. An actual lead vocal? That was another. Debbie'd always said she didn't want to have a lead. Today, she changed her mind. She told us she'd like to sing a song at the prom. A specific song: "Angel of the Morning." That would take some serious guts--too much, if you ask me. Michelle must have agreed, because she asked Deb, "Are you sure?" "Yeah, I'm sure," Deb smiled. "Let's just say it'll be my little good-bye to all my classmates." "If you're sure," I said. "I'm sure." So, we worked it up. Deb also played the rather tricky acoustic guitar part--but she did so wonderfully. It sounded good. I just hoped she could get through it without breaking down. To hear the so-called 'school slut' who also happened to be one of my best friends singing that set of lyrics--well, it almost made me break down. Anyhow, we were running through the list of songs, when Dave came up with a concern. "What are we going to end with?" he said. "We can't end with 'What I Like About You, ' not for the prom. We've got to end with a slow song, don't we?" "Right," Michelle said. "Dave's right. What's the last dance going to be?" "That's easy," I smiled. "'Open Arms.' Is there any other choice?" Journey's "Open Arms" had been out a few months. It had to be the last dance. That was the Big Prom Theme of the early eighties. As cheesy as it was--and it was--it was the only real choice. Half the proms in the USA ended with "Open Arms" in 1982. "Can you sing it?" Stan asked. "Is the Pope Catholic?" I joked. "Does a bear shit in the woods?" "Does the Pope shit in the woods?" Debbie laughed. "I don't know about that one," I laughed, "but I do know I can sing 'Open Arms'." "Let's hear it," Kenny said, and hit the piano intro. Look--my voice, at the time of the send-back at 42, had deteriorated some. All those years of smoking, no doubt. But I could sing "Open Arms" even at 42. At 17? No problem. My voice is on the high end of the tenor range--and, when I want it to be, it's a big voice. So, yeah, I could sing Steve Perry songs. The band wanted to make sure, though, so I obliged them. Kenny played the piano part, and I sang. Look, they knew I could sing. And they knew about the big voice--we had enough Springsteen songs that showed that off. Plus the odd foray into "It's The Same Old Song"--nobody's got a bigger voice than Levi Stubbs and I sang that song well. So, the band knew I could go big. But big and high? We really didn't have anything like that in the repertoire. "Open Arms" was big and high. I guess I surprised them a little bit--because when I hit the second verse, with all those swooping high passages, they were all looking at me like I had three heads. And after I finished, and they all stared at me in stunned silence for a few seconds, Debbie capped it off by proclaiming, "Oh my God. You just made me wet!" "Oh, he makes me wet half the time he picks up a microphone," Karen said with an impish grin, "but that one was especially good." "I did not need to know that," Dave grumbled. "Sorry, sweetie," Karen giggled. Debbie laughed. We all looked at her. "I'm just thinking," she said. "If you're making the girls in the band wet singing that song--imagine what it's going to do to your estranged girlfriend!" "Oy," I laughed. "So I take it we're going to end with it?" "Damn straight!" Stan proclaimed. MAY 3rd, 1982 So, at least the band was going well. As was school. I got the official confirmation of that today. I found out early in the morning when I got called down to the office. Michelle, having heard the call for me to go to the office and guessing why, cornered me at lunch. "You got it, didn't you? Salutatorian." "Yeah," I said. "I'd tell you I was sorry--but I'm not." We both laughed at that. "At least I lost out to a friend," she said. "Now you get to write a speech." "Yup. At least I have a little over a month to do it." "Know what it's going to be about?" she asked. "I have a few ideas," I smiled. "Good," she said. She took a bite from her food, then looked at me again. "I heard through the grapevine that Livvie found a date for the prom." "Yeah." "You OK with that?" "What choice do I have? You know, whatever. I can live with it." "Yeah," she said. "It's too bad, though. You should have a date. I know you can't dance, but you should have someone to walk in with, someone to eat with, take pictures with, all that. Even if you have to play, you should have a date." "I know," I said, smiling. Michelle looked at me for a minute, then smiled back. "You have a plan, don't you?" "Yup." She looked at me for a minute, then the smile unfolded into a huge grin. "You're going to ask Debbie, aren't you?" "Yup," I grinned back. "She'll be thrilled." "I hope so." I asked her that afternoon. Michelle was right--she was thrilled. Hey, we were friends. Even if we weren't playing--if Livvie and I had broken up, I would've asked Debbie. We were playing instead of dancing, but outside of that we were going to do all the 'prom' things. Even if we hit a post-prom party, she'd be my date there as well. I was happy about it--and so was she. At least that was settled. MAY 15th, 1982 We were practicing, working out the final set list. Prom was less than a month away. After running through part of the setlist, Stan called a break. "We have something we need to talk about," he said. "After-prom. We were talking about getting rooms at the hotel." "Yeah," Michelle added. "We need to know who's in. Stan and I are." "We are," Karen said, pointing to Dave, who nodded agreement. "You think we can swing this?" Kenny asked Lisa, who was there watching us. "For prom night? I'll make sure of it," Lisa grinned. "The parents won't freak?" Kenny asked. "I'll come up with something," Lisa assured him. "We're going to a party, or we have to do something with the instruments, or something. Or maybe I'll just tell them the truth. What are they going to do? I'm a good little girl--mostly--and I turn 18 next week, so what can they say?" "Ooh, are you getting gutsy all of a sudden?" Debbie teased, cracking us all up--Lisa most of all. "I love my parents, but they drive me nuts," Lisa said. "Hey, I'm going to college in, what, five months?" Lisa would be joining Michelle, Debbie, Kenny and me at BC. "And I'm going to college with my boyfriend. They going to watch over me then? Not hardly. So, they can figure out now that I'm not the celibate little girl they think I am." "Good luck," Kenny snorted, to laughter. "The only problem I have with all that, honey, is you know damn well that if they figure out we're sleeping together, it will automatically become all my fault." "True," Lisa said. "My parents are under the strange impression that teenaged boys get horny, but teenaged girls don't," she laughed. "Don't worry, sweetie, if they figure it out, I'll make sure they know what the real story is." "Oh, I'd like to be a fly on the wall for that conversation," Kenny laughed. "'Mom and Dad, I have to tell you that your sweet little daughter is a complete horndog.' That one's gonna go over real well!" "Ah, well," Lisa laughed. "Anyhow, count us in on the rooms." "OK, that's three," Stan said. "Make it four," Debbie piped up. "Oh, God," Michelle groaned. "You're going to try to pick up someone? At the prom? You shameless hussy." "Oh, you know a few guys, at least, will be going stag, so I'm sure I could pick someone up without breaking any girls' hearts," Debbie said. "But, no. This is a band thing. Those rooms have two beds. The other one in my room belongs to our lead singer if he wants it." "Oh," I said, surprised. "That's a good idea," Michelle said. "Hey, we're going to party in one of the rooms right after the prom. Then we'll go sleep it off. And do other things. Especially if we're Lisa!" Lisa broke up at that. "But even if you're not going to do other things, we really should all be together." "You're right. I'm in," I said. "Thanks, Deb." "Don't mention it." "I know it's a sacrifice for you, not getting laid on prom night," I teased. "Well, it's a special night--why not do something different?" Deb laughed. "We should ask the hotel if we can keep the instruments in the ballroom overnight--locked up, preferably," Stan said. "I'll take care of it," Kenny said. JUNE 10th, 1982 Prom night. It was the end of Senior Week. There had been a class picnic on Monday, a trip to Canobie Lake Park--an amusement park in southern New Hampshire--on Tuesday. Prom night was Thursday. It would be a busy weekend--Win Craymore was having a graduation bash on Saturday up at the Estate. We were playing it. Sunday was graduation. And, yes, my speech was all set. We'd gotten through the last month of school. Not without some heartache for me--Livvie was parading around the school arm-in-arm with her apparent prom date. Well, fuck it. My buddies pumped me up. I got a few 'keep your head up' phone calls from Kara. Even Kelly came over to me one day and asked how I was--that was nice. She was going to the prom with a friend--"No big romance, but we're friends and he says he can dance!"--and was very glad we were playing it. Senior week was fun--the band stuck together. Kenny was a bit at a loss, since Lisa didn't go to Cabot High. She'd be graduating a week after us. "At least I get two proms," Kenny laughed. But she wasn't around for senior week--even if Kenny had been able to get her in to some of the stuff, it wouldn't be possible, because this was her finals week. At least, as she'd told us, she didn't have any finals on Friday, the day after the prom! But Kenny was a bit at a loss for the picnic and the trip to Canobie Lake, so he hung out with Debbie and I. Our two band couples were, of course, stuck to one another like glue! Anyhow, that all ended--and it was prom night. We got there in the afternoon to set up the equipment. After that was done, we went to get ready. We decided not to do the limos this time--the hotel rooms cost enough money! So, after I got changed into the tux, I took my car to pick Debbie up. If anything, she looked better than last year! She'd gone for spaghetti straps instead of sleeveless, but it was a nice rose-pink color. And, as I said to her, "That's some impressive cleavage on that dress!" "Picked it out just for you," she smirked. Anyhow, her parents took the obligatory roll of pictures. Then we went back to my house so my parents could take their roll. After that, it was off to the prom. We got to the prom, got those pictures taken, then found our table. Stan and Michelle had beaten us there. The rest of the crew showed up shortly thereafter. We ate, chatted a bit, and then it was time to play. Our collective classmates had a chuckle when they saw us getting up to play outfitted in the traditional prom garb. So, I figured I'd say something. "Hey folks, welcome to our grand experiment--figuring out if you can play rock music dressed in tuxes and prom dresses!" "Hey, if they can dance in 'em, we can play in 'em, right?" Stan said, cracking everyone up. "Good point," I laughed. "Everybody ready? Here we go. One, two, three, four..." And, with that, Debbie and I hit the opening riff to "Message in a Bottle." We started off as usual--with "Message", followed by "Prove it All Night." After that, Michelle's first song of the night was now "Our Lips Are Sealed," though Debbie sang on it so much it was almost a duet. It went over well, especially with all the girls there! Then back to a couple of standbys. The first was "Here Comes My Girl." I stepped up to the mike and said, "You know what? I don't have anyone to sing this song to anymore. Ah, fuck it!" Debbie giggled--and pointed with her eyes to Olivia, who was sitting at a table with her date looking none too happy. I didn't say what I said for her benefit--it just came out. Ah, well--as I had just said, fuck it. We did one slow song--and then Debbie stepped up to do "Angel of the Morning." She told me she wanted to get it over with early. She got a round of applause when people realized she was gonna sing a song. But when people realized what song, everything just stopped. Nobody was talking, nobody was doing anything--nobody was even dancing. They were all just watching Debbie, all unruffled dignity, play and sing her way through that song. When she was done, the place exploded. And she didn't break down. After that, we whipped through some familiar stuff--Because The Night, Loving Feeling--and some stuff we'd just worked up. The Beatles' song this set was "Drive My Car." In the second slow section, we put "Tempted," by Squeeze, a song I love singing. And we ended off the set with me growling my way through the way-too-low-for-me "Pretty In Pink." I got through it anyhow! We absolutely blew through that first set. It was 45 minutes and seemed like about 10. It just flew by. We were damn hot that night. It continued when we took the stage for the second set. We kicked that set off with "The Waiting" into "Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic." We were absolutely nailing it--every note, everything. Then we proceeded to nail "Tiny Dancer"--and, yes, keeping that in the set was a little bit of a message to Olivia, since that was her favorite song. After that, we did "God Only Knows". The second set, like the first, flew by. We did "Two Hearts". We absolutely nailed "Centerfold" by the J. Geils Band, after which Debbie stepped to the mike and said, "You'll all be singing that song about me in ten years." Michelle did a new Pretenders' song, "Talk of the Town," and did one of her standbys, "Sara." The new slow song in that set was "Waiting For A Girl Like You" by Foreigner, which got a big cheer. The Beatles' song was "I Feel Fine." After "Bang A Gong" and "Good Girls Don't," we went into "867-5309," which was one of the current big hits. We ended the second set with ELO's "Don't Bring Me Down." "You know what?" Michelle said in between sets while we were gathered at our table, "Tonight we might just be the greatest band in the world." "I know," Debbie agreed. "It's like magic. We found a gear I didn't even know we had." "Well, let's go see if we can find another one, hm?" Stan said. We kicked off the third set with a Journey song. Once the gang found out I could sing "Open Arms," they said we should add "Don't Stop Believin'" to the set. We started the third set off with it--and I kicked ass, and got a big ovation. Michelle picked things up with "Only The Lonely" by the Motels. After that, we did one near and dear to my heart--"Cynical Girl," by Marshall Crenshaw. It was the most obscure thing in our whole setlist, but I loved it and enjoyed singing and playing it. We kept "Bette Davis Eyes" and "Cadillac Ranch" in the third set. We added Huey Lewis's "Do You Believe In Love." Even though it was a prom, we still did "Love Stinks," which got a laugh. Then we ended the third set with two new songs. First was an absolutely hellacious blast through the Talking Heads' "Once In A Lifetime." Everybody danced, and everyone went nuts. Then, we ended the set with "Under Pressure." Debbie absolutely wailed the Freddy Mercury part, and we left the stage to raucous applause. The final set got underway with another new song, "Since You're Gone" by the Cars. Most of the fourth set was the old stand-bys: Dreams, Go Your Own Way, the 12-string set, When A Man Loves A Woman. We tore through them. The Big Finish kicked off with "She Loves You," which got everyone bopping along. We did "Brown Sugar" and "Born To Run," as usual. Michelle sang, "I Love Rock and Roll," which went over very well. Then we did the usual closing numbers, "Rock and Roll High School," and "What I Like About You." But, of course, we weren't done. "OK, folks, we've got one more. Since it's the prom, we have to end with one more slow dance, right? So, everybody on the dance floor. Trust me, you all know this song!" Kenny hit the piano intro, and I started right into "Open Arms." I absolutely completely fucking nailed it. I mean, not a fraction of a note out of place. It might've been the most perfect vocal performance of my life. Either life. And, yes, Livvie noticed. Believe me, I saw the look on her face. Everybody danced. When we were done, the applause was deafening. Afterwards, Stan summed it up. "That was just about perfect." We all got together in Stan and Michelle's room. Somehow Stan had gotten his hands on a case of beer. With eight of us, that wasn't a lot, but it was enough to get mellow. We hung out for a while, just chatting and rehashing the night. After a while, Kenny and Lisa went to their room. Shortly thereafter, Karen and Dave did the same. Debbie and I knew Michelle and Stan wanted to be alone, so we went to our room right after Karen and Dave did. "I have got to get out of this dress!" Debbie giggled the minute we got to the room. "I know what you mean," I laughed, picking at my tux. "I'll take the bathroom, since it'll take me longer." She grabbed the bag she had brought and took it to the bathroom. She came back out and turned her back to me. "Before I go in there, could you help me with this zip?" "Sure," I said, and unzipped her dress for her. "Thanks. Be right back." She went into the bathroom, and I started getting out of my tux. After a few minutes, I heard her call from the bathroom. "Hey, Eddie. Do you believe in magic?" Well, I couldn't pass up an opening like that, could I? I immediately started singing. "Do you believe in magic, in a young girl's heart..." "Oh, stop it!" Debbie shouted, laughing, from the bathroom. "Hey. You give a lead singer an opening like that, what do you expect?" "OK," she said, still in the bathroom. "Let me rephrase it, then. Do you believe in the concept of a magical night? One where things that aren't supposed to happen do?" "I dunno. What do you mean?" "Well, I mean, like us, the band. Did you see what we did tonight? We went to a place we've never been." "We're getting better, Deb. We're young, I'd expect us to get better as time goes on," I chuckled. "Maybe. Or maybe the whole Prom thing got us to a level we couldn't have gotten to on our own. Maybe it was magic, a magic night." "Maybe." "Good," she said. "Eddie? I don't want the magic to end. Not yet." Before I could ask what she meant by that, the bathroom door opened, and she stepped out. Wearing a black babydoll nightie and matching panties that left very, very little to the imagination. My jaw hit my chest! "Well, how do I look?" she said, grinning. "Stunning. Is this for me?" "You betcha," she said. She sat down on one of the beds. "I want a night. I want tonight. We've joked about it enough. But this time I'm serious. We'll never be more than friends, we both know that--Michelle was right, we'd kill each other," she laughed. "But I want one night. I'm unattatched--and so are you, for the moment. But I figure that won't last, so tonight it is." "You figure it won't last? What, you think I'm going to find someone else right away?" I laughed. "Oh, I know you," she said. "And I know Livvie, too. Now that she's had her big night at the prom--and did you notice her date wasn't all that interested in dancing? Boy, did that serve her right," she giggled. "Anyhow, since she had her big night, I predict she's going to come crawling back sometime this weekend. And you, because you are a complete sap, will let her." "You think?" "Tell me you won't. Especially if she grovels." "It'd have to be a hell of a grovel." "Oh, she'll pour it on. Anyhow, that's my prediction. So, this is the perfect chance for us to rip the sheets up together. I want it, and I'm betting you do as well." "Well, if I didn't before I saw that getup..." I laughed. "Good, it worked." "Sure did," I agreed. "And, you're right--we should do it at least once. One problem, though--I don't have anything." "Well, I'm on the pill, but I prefer a fail-safe anyhow. And since I planned this..." She reached over into her purse and withdrew a box of rubbers. "I should've known," I grinned. "Good. Now get over here!" I have to admit it--I wasn't completely taken by surprise. Right when Deb suggested we share a room after the prom, I knew that her doing something like this was, at least, a possibility. All the jokes had an undercurrent of seriousness in them, and I knew it. And, quite frankly, that held true for jokes from me, too. Especially now that I was single--I was attracted to Debbie physically. Always had been. And, like she said, we were the best of friends. I don't need to be in love to have sex, but some emotional connection is necessary. Debbie and I had one--as close friends and bandmates. Coupled with the undeniable physical attraction--that was enough for me! And I'm glad she'd brought condoms. AIDS was just starting to be talked about--and at this point it was the 'gay disease'--but I knew better. And Debbie was promiscuous. Better safe than sorry--luckily, even without knowing what AIDS was going to turn into, Deb agreed. I was also glad she'd said that she preferred a fail-safe. I hope that was always--I didn't want anything nasty to happen to her either. So, I let her lead me down the golden path, so to speak. We ended up in a clinch on the bed, our tongues dueling as she rolled on top of me. I reached up and slipped my hand under that nightie, so I could get my hand on one of those impressive boobs. "My goodness, you're built," I said. "I could say the same," she laughed, running her hand up and down my bicep. I almost cracked up at that--thinking that she never would've been able to say that the first time around! I reached for the hem of her nightie. "I wanna see those things," I laughed. "You and every other guy in school." I abruptly stopped--thinking of her history, and all the reasons she chose to sing "Angel of the Morning" tonight. I took a breath, and looked at her. "Deb, if you're going to lump me in with all the rest of those guys, we're not going to do this. I think more of you than that, and I don't want you to forget that." She smiled at me. "Eddie, I know that. And, no, I do not and will not lump you in with the rest of them. You're a friend, a true friend. You realize this is the first time I've ever gone to bed with someone I really truly liked as a person? Hell, I've rarely been to bed with someone I really knew as a person. So, no, this is different. A lot different." "OK," I smiled. "But, you have to admit," she giggled, "around Cabot High, my tits are sort of a tourist attraction." "Well, I can see why," I chuckled. I reached down again and quickly stripped her nightie off. And gasped. "Shit., now I can really see why!" "They are my best asset," she said. "No, dear. They're not. That'd be the ability to play every instrument known to man," I said. She grinned at that, pleased. "These are quite impressive, however." Whereupon I leaned over and took one into my mouth. "Oooh!" she shrieked, and started wiggling under my ministrations. I drubbed her nipple with my mouth, getting a nice yelp for my troubles. As I kept up nibbling on her boob, something became quickly apparent--this was gonna be loud. Not that I minded, but we were in a hotel! After a bit of tongue work on her boob--and a lot of yelps and wheezes--I pulled off. "Well, that gives the lie to the cliche." "What cliche?" she asked. "The one that says that the smaller ones are more responsive." "Oh, God, not in my case," she laughed. "I noticed." I went back to work, getting more happy yelps. While I did that, I gently slipped a hand under her panties. Boy, was she soaked! "Hold up a minute," she said just after she started panting. "You need to... wait a minute. First, get up here." I lifted my face to hers--whereupon she kissed the living daylights out of me. "Wow," I said after she broke the kiss. "Thank you," she laughed. "Now. The reason I told you to stop in the first place." I was wearing my usual sleeping attire--a tee shirt and shorts--and she started tugging on the hem of my tee shirt. "I want you naked," she giggled. "Well..." I said, and reached down for her panties. "One at a time," she laughed. "Let me." She got my tee shirt off, then reached for my shorts. OK, I guess I was never going to get over my self-consciousness about my less-that-prodigious size. And it was worse with a girl as experienced as Deb was. Luckily, she didn't seem to care--considering she looked at it and said, "Yum!" "Thanks," I said. "Now let me have my yum," I said, and reached again for her panties. She laughed and lifted her hips to help me out. "Blonde all over," I commented. "What, you thought it was from a bottle?" "No, but this clinches it. Now shut up and kiss me again." "Gladly," she said, and then she did. Her hand reached down and grabbed my dick at the same time that mine moved down to gently fondle her pussy. Her mouth opened to let my tongue in. She moaned into my mouth as I rubbed her pussy. After a few minutes of that, I broke away from her mouth and went for her boob again. "Oh, that feels wonderful," she moaned, "but I hope you're going to keep going lower." I grinned up at her. "No blushing violet you." "Well, I do remember you once bragging to me how good you were at that. So I'm just expecting you to put your money where your mouth is." "Put your pussy where my mouth is, you mean," I quipped, cracking her up. "Don't worry, I'll get to it. I like to savor the appetizer before I move onto the entree." "Funny, I thought pussy-eating was the appetizer." "That's because you've never had me do it to you." "Oh, this better be good!" "You just wait. Trust me." And with that, I went back to her boob. "OK, I admit it," she gasped. "If you're as good at that as you are at this..." I just grinned to myself and kept at her boobs. I didn't want to keep her waiting too long, however, so after a couple more minutes at her boob, I started kissing my way down her stomach. She sighed happily and spread her legs. I took my time going down her stomach--I loved doing that--but I was heading directly for paydirt the whole time. I thought about skipping by and going for a knee as a tease, but she was squirming so much by that point I think she would've killed me! So, I didn't dawdle. From the first lick up her pussy, she was shuddering. And, boy, was she wet! Her juices completely covered my tongue from the first pass! Not that I minded. Seeing how worked up she was, I only went up and down her pussy lips a couple of times, before I headed for her very prominent clittie. I hadn't realized how big it was until I bumped it with my tongue. Jesus! This was by far the biggest clit I'd ever encountered, in either life. No wonder she was so damn horny--what with this thing to satisfy! After a couple of bumps with my tongue, I was able to wrap my lips right around it and suck. It quickly became very apparent that my prediction--that she was going to be loud--was right on. The minute my lips wrapped around that clittie, the volume started increasing. When I drummed my tongue on her clit while sucking on it, the screeches began to approach a crescendo. "Oh, God! Eddie! Oh! Eddie! Eddie! ED-EEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" Shit, I think that one was audible in downtown Boston! I let her come down from that one--and went for two. "Oh, God, again?" she yelped. "You betcha," I told her, and dove back in. Since she'd gotten a good one, I meant to savor this one. So, I eased off her clit, so she'd come down some, and went back to nuzzling my tongue into her labia. She was still running like a river, and squirming like a trapped cat. And the yelps were starting up again. But I still took my time, savoring her juices as I lapped up and down her pussy. After a few, I stopped at the bottom and stuck my tongue into her opening, producing a nice wriggle-and-screech. You know what? This was fun! She was responsive and willing and eager and all that good stuff. And she was clearly enjoying my attention. I pulled out of her opening and resumed dragging my tongue up and down her labia. After a few strokes, I went for her clit. I kept that up, nudging her prominent clit with my tongue every third stroke or so, working her back up. When the yelping started to get more pronounced, I zeroed in on her clit, keeping at it until she screamed out her next orgasm. I crawled up next to her on the bed while she came down from that one. After a few minutes, she opened her eyes, looked over at me, and grinned. "OK. You weren't lying. You are damn good at that." "Told you." "Yes, you did," she laughed. "And, you know, I've been told I'm pretty good at reciprocating that bit." "Oh, really?" "Definitely," she said. And, before I knew it, she was leaning over me with my dick in her mouth. OK, she wasn't whistling Dixie. She was damn good. She used just the right amouth of pressure, and knew when to back off from the head and work the shaft. She bobbed up and down on my dick for a while, then backed off and lapped at the head. Then back to the bobbing. She knew her shit. It's not the easiest thing for me to cum from a blowjob--I came in absolutely no time from Deb's efforts. "Uh-oh, I killed it." she said after she'd swallowed. "That won't last long," I laughed. "C'mon up here and give us a kiss." "I still got sperm-breath." "Like I care?" I laughed. "Besides which, I still got all your pussy drippings on my chin." "Goody!" she giggled, and then kissed the daylights out of me again. She ended up on top of me, kissing, and we were just kind of fondling and rubbing bodies together. A few minutes of her nipples drilling into my chest--not to mention her hand rubbing away at my dick--and I was at full-staff. "Told you," I said. "Yes, you did," she agreed with a laugh. She reached over to the table and grabbed one of the condoms she'd brought. I thought she'd hand it to me, but she didn't. She broke open the wrapper and pulled it out, then she reached down for my dick. "Oh, how helpful," I teased. "Just an excuse for me to get my hand on your dick," she teased back. "Like you need an excuse," I countered. She laughed. "Damn, you're fun in bed." "Sex is supposed to be fun, right?" "In theory. Most guys are either just concerned with their own orgasm, or they're all nervous." "I'm not nervous because this certainly isn't close to my first time, and also because we're friends. As for the other thing--if that's all I wanted, I could just jerk off." She laughed. "You sure you're a guy?" "Positive. And since I'm all ready, all you have to do is lie back and you'll know for sure I'm a guy." "Goody!" she laughed, and got herself situated on the bed. I hovered over her, and slipped right into her. "Mmmmmm," she hummed as I hit bottom. "Oh, that's good." Whereupon I made sure to grind myself on her clit--and her little hum got a lot louder and rose three octaves! I started a slow and steady pace. Debbie obviously liked it, what with all the "Oh, Eddie!" squealing I was getting. When I sensed she was getting into it, I picked up the pace. Her vocalizations went right with me. "Oh! Oh! OH! OH! OOOOOOOHHH! EDDIE! EDDDEEEEEEEEEE!" Man, I hoped this hotel room was soundproofed! Since she'd given me a blowjob not long before, I knew I could last a while. So, she beat me across the finish line. And if there had been a glass in the room, it would have shattered! Jeez. I'd been with some girls that voiced their pleasure enthusiastically, but Debbie absolutely took the cake. No wonder she was a complete nymphomaniac. After she came, I slowed down for a bit to let her catch her breath. Then I started up again. "Oooooh!" she gasped. "More? You stud!" I just grinned at her and kept going. She howled out her second before I got there. I collapsed beside her and she crawled into my arms, still breathing heavy. "Boy," she said after she caught her breath. "That was great. I usually don't get to two from that. And four altogether is just about unheard of." "Stamina's my strong suit." "That's a good strong suit to have," she giggled. "Though, I have to tell you, that's not your number one strong suit." "What is?" "Tempo," she laughed. "You know exactly when to speed up and when to slow down and all. You fuck like a rhythm guitarist." I cracked up. "Well, that's good, because you orgasm like a soprano." "True, all true. Michelle and Stan are in the next room, aren't they?" I nodded. "Yeah, well, we're gonna get grilled. Because I bet they heard me." "I think the whole hotel heard you." "I'm not shy." "No, you are not." "Eddie? Thanks. I'm so glad we did this. It was everything I'd expected." "Ditto, and ditto." We curled up together under the blankets. "Sing me to sleep," she said. I thought for a minute--and then launched into "Crazy Love." She giggled through the first verse--and then picked up the harmony on the second. We fell asleep right after. JUNE 11th, 1982 I woke up to find Debbie sprawled all over me. I didn't mind at all. Well, I wouldn't have minded if I didn't have to pee. And she was completely on top of me. I had to gently wake her up so I could go to the bathroom. When I got back, she was lying on the pillow--still stark naked, as was I--and blinking at me sleepily. "Sorry," I said to her, "but you were right on top of me and I really had to go." "I know," she said, and then yawned. "Time is it?" "Eight." "We're meeting the rest of them for breakfast?" "At 9:30." "Good, that gives us a half-hour to shower and get dressed." "Your math is off, it's an hour and a half." "No, because I have plans for that first hour. Get back in this bed." "Oh, twist my arm," I laughed, and crawled back into the bed. After another roll in the hay for the first hour, and a rather fun mutual-shower, we headed down to breakfast, arm-in-arm. "Regrets?" she asked. "Not a one," I said. "Look, I'm partially to blame for Olivia and I breaking up. I know that. But we did break up, and she was with someone else last night at the prom, right?" "You think she did something else besides go to the prom last night?" "Don't know--and more importantly I don't really care. And I don't mean that in a callous way--it's just not my business anymore." "Even if you guys get back together?" "Yeah. When you're together, you're together--but when you're not, you're not. That's the way I look at it." "Good. I want to make sure this doesn't affect our friendship. And if you had regrets..." "No worries, Deb. Nothing will affect our friendship." "That's what I wanted to hear." We got down to breakfast and met up with the rest of the guys. And, yes, Michelle quizzed us--because she'd heard the screaming! ------- Chapter 18 "I SAID, I'M SO HAPPY I COULD DIE; SHE SAID DROP DEAD THEN LEFT WITH ANOTHER GUY" JUNE 13th, 1982 Graduation Day. We'd played Win Craymore's bash the day before. It was a blast, as always. We were still riding he wave of awesomeness we'd found at the prom. We blew through five sets--one more than we usually played--and everyone was dancing and having a good time. As a little nod to Deb, I asked the gang if they knew "Do You Believe In Magic?" They did, so we threw it into the second set. Deb couldn't stop grinning while she was banging away at her guitar. So, all that was left to our high school careers was this, Graduation Day. It started at 11:00 AM. We all filed in to the football stadium--luckily, the weather held. The graduating class was about 450 people, and with all the family and friends, if they'd had to go inside the number of people allowed would've been severely curtailed. That's why they used the football stadium, weather permitting; and they'd gotten a tent, so the weather would have to be really horrendous for it not to be outside. This year there were no such worries--it was warm and sunny. I sat up front since I was one of the speakers. Which wasn't my choice, believe me--I'd prefer to sit with my pals. Luckily, I got to sit with one--the award-winners also sat up front, and Michelle was receiving the class award for social studies. So, we sat next to each other, making each other laugh with our usual pithy comments. The vice principal did a few introductory comments, then they handed out the awards (I also got one myself, for biology.) Then it was time for the speakers. The valedictorian would go last. Me, the salutatorian? I got to go first. Joy. Believe me, public speaking was not my forte. Right before I went up, I turned to Michelle and said, "I wonder if there's any way I can sing this speech." She cracked up. Unfortunately, no, I wasn't going to get away with singing this speech. I just reminded myself that, however much I disliked public speaking, this was going to be infinitely easier than the last time I'd had to do it. Plus, I just realized that the whole school knew The Narcoleptics--so I'd just given myself a good opening line. I got up there and used it. "I hate public speaking," I said without preamble. "If I'm up on stage I want a guitar strapped on. Any way I can sing this?" I said, waving my speech. It worked--big laughs. That's one for Ed. I had a few more. I knew I was going to need them, because the speech was going to be very un-funny in spots. I started out with the funnies. "OK, since I can't sing it, here goes. Good morning, classmates, faculty members, friends and family, honored guests, and anyone I've forgotten. I'm Ed Bovilas, and I'm your salutatorian. You may ask, how does one get to be salutatorian? They ask you to spell it. If you can, you're it." That one went over better than I thought it would! "A lot of people are probably surprised to see me up here. Those are the people that've never been in class with me, but know who The Narcoleptics are." Big cheer. That surprised me! "Uh-huh. You guys just remember all that love when we release the first album," I ad-libbed, to good effect. "Anyhow, there are some people that are surprised to see Mister Rock and Roll up here ranked second in the class. Of course, there are far, far more of you that were shocked when you saw Ed The Geek up on stage with a guitar." After the chuckles, I inserted, "Of couse, not nearly as many who were surprised to see Michelle Pepper up there!" Another good round of laughs, and a nice blush from Michelle! "Anyhow, I've lived an interesting high school existence, because it's been rather schizophrenic. Good student geek by day, rock and roller by night, that sort of thing. But, you know what? It's been great, in ways I didn't anticipate. "Some of you have known me since elementary school, or junior high. Those who have may remember that up until seventh grade, all I was was just a good student geek. And I was picked on a lot. Even after I took steps to decrease being picked on, I was still geeky and somewhat isolated, and I'm always going to be a good student. As I said, it's isolating. And it also made me somewhat wary. "Some of what happened with The Narcoleptics changed a lot of that. Look, I have to tell you--we did this as a lark. We all liked playing, and we knew there was some talent there, but we didn't expect it to become what it has. We're happy as clams about it, believe me--but I think it took us all by surprise. I can see at least a couple of my bandmates nodding in agreement, so it wasn't just me," I chuckled. "I think, because it took off fairly quickly, some of you were surprised. I think you suddenly saw a side of me, or Michelle, or Debbie Gomelski, or any of us, that you hadn't known existed. The cool thing is, that worked both ways. Because of the Narcoleptics, I was approached by people I might have otherwise been wary of in my isolation. "I've learned a lot, about myself and about other people. I'm less wary, less isolated, and a hell of a lot better adjusted. That's almost the perfect high school existence, all things considered. "Now. we're all headed to college. It's going to be a new thing for all of us, but I feel pretty prepared for it. And a lot of that is because of my experiences here at Cabot High. They've prepared me very well for the road ahead. "So, I thank you all for cheering us on, for seeking us out, for inviting us to play your parties and dances and whatnot. It's been wonderful. I'll never, ever forget the prom. That night was something special." Got more cheers for that one. I took a deep breath, because things were about to get tougher. "In return, for those thanks, I'd like you to do something for me. I'd like you all to think about friendship. "I have a lot of them--more than I ever thought I would. At different levels, sure. The seven of us in the band are tight as can be, and I have a couple more extremely close friends. Past that, there's people I'm not as close to. But I've made a lot of friends at all different levels. I cherish all of them. I can see most of you out in the crowd tonight. Another breath. "However, if I'm talking about friends, and if I'm acknowledging all my friends that are filling up all the seats out there in front of me; well, I also have to talk about the empty seat. "I have to talk about the friend that isn't here. I can't let this day go by without mentioning that, in a just world, my best friend, Beth Trovini, would be out there. She'd be sitting out there, waiting to get her diploma, making silly faces at me as I tried to get through this speech. And she should be here. But she's not. "So, I'm going to ask you to think about friendship. We're all going different places in September. We're going to have friends that we might not see as much, might not have the connection we once did. That's understandable. It's natural. But it's also avoidable. "If I can give all of you any advice as we go forward into this big world, it's just that: cherish your friends. Cherish them with all your might. "Part of the fun of graduating with friends is watching them. I was grinning like an idiot when Michelle got her social studies award. I'll be grinning like an idiot when my other friends get their diplomas. When all those names are called--Stan Murvetsin, Debbie Gomelski, Danica Rosen, all my friends--I'm going to enjoy it thoroughly. I'm glad I get to share this day with my friends, hear their names called, watch them get up here. "But there's one name I won't hear, so I'll say it now: Elizabeth Marie Trovini. "Thank you." I got off the stage to a fine ovation. Of course, I knew part of that is because I kept the speech relatively brief! But I also saw a few moist eyes from those who'd known Beth. And Michelle gave my arm a squeeze when I got back to my seat. After I did my bit, it got boring, of course. The only speech I was interested in was my own! And having 450 people traipse up there to get diplomas took a while. Some of that was fun, though. Stan played air guitar as he was walking across the stage! After all the speeches, the day was finally over. A few of us, the band and a few friends, were headed over to Debbie's for a small cookout-type thing. As I was headed out of the stadium, however, I got waylaid. By Olivia. "Hey," she said. "I'd like to talk. Is that possible?" I'll tell the truth--part of me wanted to say no. A big part of me wanted to say no. I was still upset at her, quite a bit. I felt wronged by the whole thing. I almost told her to fuck off. But I didn't. I couldn't. For one thing, I wasn't going to deny the feelings were still there. For another thing--I was just going on and on about friendship, wasn't I? And referencing Beth while I was at it? If I blithely blew off someone who'd meant so much to me over the past two years, what did that say about the lovely speech I'd just made? Not a lot. So, I didn't turn her down. "Sure," I said. "But not now." "That's fine. You free tomorrow?" I told her I was, and we made plans to meet. I wondered what she wanted. JUNE 14th, 1982 I picked her up at her house, and it didn't take her long to answer that very question. "Eddie?" she said. "I think we've made a mistake." "What mistake is that?" "Breaking up." Well, Debbie called it, didn't she? "You think it was a mistake?" "Yeah," she said. "Look, about the prom--I was very, very wrong. I regret pushing that, and I'm sorry. You belonged up there playing, and I'm sorry I didn't really understand or appreciate that." "OK," I said, "but that still doesn't take care of the big problem: Michigan." "I know," she said. "Look, I'm not going to apologize for that. I think it's the best thing. Going there for college, I mean--I shouldn't have gone out in April which was my other big mistake. But going there in September? I do think it's best for me right now. However, is there any way we can work around it?" "I'm sorry, Livvie, I still have the same fears." "That I wouldn't be able to stick to it?" "Yeah." "I'll be honest, I have the same fears about you--but I'm willing to give it a try." "Hey, if I tried it, I would be able to keep it in my pants." "Probably, though I wouldn't ask you to," she said with a little grin. "I'd be more worried you'd fall in love with someone else, you being a complete romantic and all. Sexual fidelity I don't care much about. I'd ask you to make an emotional committment, not a physical one." "Excuse me?" I said, confused. "I want to get back together with you, and try a long-distance relationship." "That much I got," I laughed. "Right. To me, 'relationship' implies an emotional one. I'd ask you not to become emotionally involved with anyone else. You can have sex with anyone you want, I don't care about that. When I'm home, of course, I'd expect sexual fidelity as well--but while I'm away? Pick up a groupie after a gig. What do I care?" I had to shake my head, to clear out the mind-boggles. "What on earth brought this on?" "Well," she started, "part of it was the prom. That's when I realized how unfair I'd been. I also realized that you were who I should've been there with, even if we weren't dancing. My date was a complete dud," she said with a roll of her eyes. "And by the time the night ended, any slight attraction I may have had for him was completely gone. I went home alone right after the prom, which is never fun," she said with a little grin. "Which reminds me--did you sleep with Debbie prom night?" SHIT! I almost crashed into a telephone pole. "WHAT?" I managed to blurt out. "Well, I knew you and Deb were sharing a room after the prom. I was just wondering if you decided to go for it. I can see from your reaction that you did," she said with a little grin. I tried to say something--I had no idea what, frankly--when she interrupted me. "Hey, we had broken up. I can't blame you or say anything about it. Don't you think I knew that Debbie had the hots for you? I also figured it was returned somewhat. So, I'm not surprised." I could just shake my head. "Anyway," she continued, "the prom was part of it, and realizing there that I'd pretty much fucked up. I think I realized then that I was going to try to at least talk to you. But what really clinched it was your speech. That got to me." "Yeah." I agreed. "I can see where it would." "You were right--cherish your friends. You're the best friend I have, and possibly the best friend I've ever had. At least the second-best." "I understand," I grinned. "Yeah. But you're right. I haven't cherished you, or us, not the way I should have." She sighed. "I know me going to Michigan is going to be rough. Maybe it won't work. But I don't think we'd be honoring what we have together or how we feel about one another if we didn't even try." "I don't know," I said. "Things have been pretty rough, and the whole Michigan thing still bothers me." "Think of it this way," she said. "What have we got to lose? You're not dating anyone else, are you? I'm assuming you and Debbie decided to remain just friends even after having sex." "Uh, yeah, we did," I said hesitantly. "And, no, I'm not dating anyone else." "OK, so we're both free. All I'm suggesting is that we give it a try. Look, Eddie, I still love you, you know that. And I'm betting you still love me. What have we got to lose?" "My heart? My sanity?" "You already lost the latter," she laughed. "As for the former, good point. All I can do is promise to try not to dent your heart too much." I took a breath. "Look, Livvie. I have to be blunt. You've already done that--dent my heart. Why should I give you a second chance?" She jerked in surprise, but then sighed. "I suppose I deserved that." "I'm not trying to hurt you. But you hurt me, and badly. I'm also, I'll admit, angry. But I'm just trying to be blunt. Why should I do this?" "Because we both still love one another?" She paused. "Don't we?" "Yes, we do," I admitted, "but is that enough?" "I guess only you can answer that." She gave me a wry little grin. "It was enough for me to swallow my pride and admit I made a mistake." "OK, true," I conceded with a grin. "Let me think about this, OK?" "OK." JUNE 26th, 1982 I gave in. Was there really ever any doubt? Debbie's right--I'm a sap. But, you know, despite my hurt and anger, I really did love her. And she seemed to be hell-bent on making amends. So, I gave it the summer--and we'll see what happens then. However, I had other things to occupy me over the summer--number one being the band. We were serious about attempting to play the clubs in Boston once we got to school. And that meant playing original music. Now, I'd written songs for years--including the first life. Some of them I even remembered, to some point, and I could easily 'write' them again in this life. Since my writing style was rooted in stuff that was already around in 1982 or was older, I wouldn't be violating anything by 'writing' a song in 1982 that I originally wrote in 1993. It all sounded like The Beatles anyway! But I wasn't the only songwriter in the band. When we'd first discussed the idea of doing this, Michelle revealed that she also wrote songs. It was just the two of us, though. I was a little surprised that Debbie didn't. "I've never tried," she confessed. Stan told us that he would write all the lead guitar lines for our songs that we wanted him to, but he wasn't going to mess with anything else. "Like lyrics. I will gladly keep the lyrics to you two guys. Yeesh!" So, this was the day we'd picked to start working on our own original songs. One thing quickly became apparent--while I had arrangement ideas, Michelle did not. She presented us with songs that were very bare-bones. All the lyrics were there, plus the melody and basic chords, but that was it. Some of that had to do with how she wrote. Remember, Michelle was the bass player--and you don't write songs on bass. She played enough guitar and piano to write songs on them--but just barely. So, when she presented us with a song--like I said, we'd get a fully realized melody and a lyric, but, behind that, only rudimentary guitar or piano chords. Which was fine with not only me, but also Stan--he might not have any interest in writing, but he was a natural arranger. As for me--I'd be dictating Michelle's bass lines on my songs--to the note! That's how much of an arranger I was. Though that wasn't exactly true--especially with Michelle, since she was creative and a fantastic bass player--I did tend to come up with lines for all the instruments when I wrote. I'm sure I could come up with lines for all the instruments for Michelle's songs! Anyhow, both Michelle and I traipsed into band practice on this day, a Saturday, with a clutch of songs all ready. Michelle went first. And blew us right out of the water. It was called "My Body". And it wasn't written by the pristine straight-A student preppie Michelle. Nope, this was written by Michelle the Sexbomb. It started like this: Oooh, I've come undone Oooh, I'm sixteen years old Oooh, I wanna have my fun' Oooh, and not just do what I'm told Don't tell me what my Daddy says He doesn't get to choose for me Don't tell me what your preacher says Those rules are antiquated and arbitrary I'm young, I'm free and I'm ready for you Let me tell you what I want us to do This waiting for forever is a game for fools And don't tell me I'm too young my body knows it ain't true Don't tell me I'm too young my body knows it ain't true Oooh, I feel it deep inside Oooh, it's a purple wave Oooh, no time to run and hide Oooh, cause I'm feeling brave Don't tell me you don't want me I feel it every time we kiss Don't tell me you don't need me You've been hoping all along that I wanted this I'm young, I'm free and I'm ready for you Let me tell you what I want us to do This waiting for forever is a game for fools And don't tell me I'm too young my body knows it ain't true Don't tell me I'm too young my body knows it ain't true And went on from there. I think we were all stunned. "And there goes that pristine image, shattered in a million pieces," Debbie laughed. Michelle just gave her a Cheshire Cat grin. "You sure you didn't write that, Deb?" I teased. "Nope, that was all Michelle," she said. "I mean, come on--who else besides Michelle would use the words antiquated and arbitrary in a song about sex?" "Hey, I love it," Stan said. "You would," I retorted, "but I do too. However, what's with this 'It's a purple wave' stuff?" "Well, purple is the color of lust, after all," Michelle said. "It is?" I laughed. "She's only saying that because Stan is wearing a purple shirt," Karen laughed. "Who do you think bought him the shirt?" Michelle riposted. We all laughed--and then, out of clear blue sky, Stan started playing. As I'd said, Michelle presented us that song with just her strumming on an acoustic guitar. The song itself was all there--including how fast it was, which was very--but bare-bones. But it triggered something in Stan, because he came up with this really twangy Duane Eddy guitar thing. I answered him with a little stutter on my guitar. And, just like that, we had an intro. And that became the basis to the arrangement, because Stan answered all of Michelle's vocal phrases in the verse with that same twangy bit. Debbie took over the acoustic part, strumming furiously--like I said, it was a fast song. Twenty minutes later, we ran through the thing, from beginning to end. After we finished, Michelle looked at me, grinned, and said, "Your turn." "Fine, I have a song about sex, too." Which I did. It was called "Keep A Light On." Though it was a wee bit more subtle than hers! The lyrics were a bit inane in spots--lyrics aren't my strong suit--but the chorus made plain the meaning of the song: Midnight prowler knocking on your door Keep a light on for me You know my face and you've seen me before Keep a light on for me And, unlike Michelle, I had the whole arrangement worked out. I'm a riff-monger, so I had the whole riff worked out for Stan to play--in fact, for this song, the riff was the whole song! I also had this cheesy roller-rink "Ramrod" organ part worked out for Karen to play. I let Stan work out the guitar solo, though. We worked that sucker out in no time at all. Afterwards, Stan laughed and said, "So, we're gonna be the sex song band, are we?" "Not hardly," Michelle smirked, and promptly moved over to the piano and picked out a lovely mid-tempo ballad called "From My Head To My Toes." It was clearly a love song, not a lust song. Which brought up an interesting point, which Karen articulated with a huge grin: "So, if we practice that song enough, will we get Stan to stop blushing?" "I do not blush!" Stan maintained. "Uh-huh," Debbie teased. "Must've been a momentary sunburn." "Yeah yeah yeah," Stan snorted. "Let's see if we can arrange Michelle's little ditty, shall we?" "Cool, he'll blush all the way through the guitar part," Debbie quipped. Stan just shot her a look. It took some work to arrange it. Michelle had the melody--which was lovely--and the words. The chorus, which was gorgeous, went like this: From my head To my toes Well, the feeling comes, and it grows and grows After so long together We know how the story goes It goes, I love you From my head to my toes Michelle had that, plus the rest of the words and the basic chords and melody. But she wrote it on piano, which she doesn't play particularly well, and that's all she had. It was mid-tempo, so she didn't want it to be particularly quiet--it was piano-based, but it was supposed to be a full band piece. The first thing we did was have Kenny work up a proper piano part. Which he quickly did, working from Michelle's chord sketch. He even added an intro, based off of a bit of a phrase Michelle was playing at the end of the chorus. What was funny was the first measure--two chords--of the intro was a complete pinch from the same first measure of Bob Seger's "Still The Same"--that da--dum-dum that opens the song. Same thing. After that it spun off into an arpeggio that had nothing to do with the Seger song, but that first measure was going to get people guessing! Debbie picked up an acoustic, at Stan's direction, and strummed along. Then Stan and I got the electrics out. Dave figured out a good drum part, and Karen played some synth. It didn't take more than a half hour. "You know what? We're damn good," Stan asserted. "This is gonna fly. And that song is a hit, I swear it." "At least he stopped blushing," Debbie said, keeping it up. "Yeah, yeah. Any more hits?" Stan said. "I got one," I replied. It was called "I Saw You Dancing." It was another riff-o-rama--I did have a tendency to write riffs. It was a nice meaty guitar riff with a clanking cowbell moving everything along. The first verse went like this: There you were moving cross the gym I saw you dancing You had your arms and your lips wrapped around him I saw you dancing Well I remember the day when you used to be mine I saw you dancing Now I'm just the guy on stage keeping time I saw you dancing I watched you move across the floor so slow Made me remember the day before When I watched you go I saw you dancing I saw you dancing "Hm," Debbie said when we were done. "Write that after watching Olivia dance with that loser at prom?" "Actually, no," I laughed. "That one's a couple years old." "Who'd you write it about?" Michelle asked. "Nobody in particular," I said. "Whatever," Stan said. "Whoever it was written about, that's a hit too." "Look, we've got our own Casey Kasem in the band!" Michelle teased. "Well, hey," Stan said. "These are good songs. You two can really write." "Damn straight," Debbie agreed. "Any more?" We did. Michelle had this lovely thing called "Hold Me Down." She also had a cool little rocker called "Sure Enough," which had a neat guitar part that drove the rhythm, plus great harmonies for Debbie and me to sing on the chorus. She had another rocker called "Accidents Can Happen Here." I had a mid-tempo thing with a nice sustaining riff called "No Place To Hide." There was an acoustic ballad with a complicated and great-sounding guitar part called "My Blue Highway." And then there was "Summer's Gone". One of the goofiest things I ever wrote--lyrically and musically. It had this mock-swing beat with droning organ chords and a honking guitar thing. And the lyrics--which were about how much I hate hot weather--were just silly. It made the whole band crack up. But they all also loved it. We worked it up in a hurry. "That's a nice days work, isn't it?" Stan said, satisfied. We all were. JUNE 30th, 1982 Michelle, Stan and Debbie proposed we go out to lunch. I accepted. Little did I know that the three of them had an agenda. We went to the Golden Arches. The minute we got our food and settled in at a table, they started in on me. "So," Michelle began, "Eddie, tell us: have you gone completely nuts, or what?" "Excuse me?" "Olivia," Stan said. "You're actually going to go out with her again?" "You really are a complete sap," Debbie added. "Jeez, guys, I thought I was going to lunch, not an ambush," I said, bemused. "Hey, you're our friend. We worry about you," Michelle said. "I know. But it's fine, really." "Well, maybe you could try to explain to us exactly why you decided to go back out with her," Stan said, reasonably enough. "Because we don't understand it." "You guys know I still love her." "God only knows why," Debbie snorted. "Well, I do. And, hey, at least I'm not gonna spend the summer alone." Michelle blinked. "You don't think this is going to last much past that, do you?" "Actually, I plan to play it by ear. She says she plans to be faithful--well, emotionally faithful." "Uhm, what does that mean?" Debbie asked. I grinned. "It means, after we get to school, she doesn't care who I fuck, as long as I don't fall in love with anyone else." "Well, that's handy," Debbie chuckled. "Though I don't know how interested you'll be in that." "More than you'd guess," I laughed. "Heck, I'll admit it--one of the reasons for staying with Livvie is so I don't have to go the whole summer without pussy." "You wouldn't have to in any case, and you know it," Debbie smirked, "so that isn't the reason." "OK, good point," I agreed with a grin. "We just don't want to see you getting hurt. Again," Michelle interjected. "Well, you can't really prevent that," I said cheerfully. "It's happened before and it'll probably happen again. You guys will just have to pick up the pieces," I teased. "Well, that's what we're trying to prevent, you big galoot," Stan laughed. "That's all we need is you gettin' all emotional." "Ah, that'd be fine," Debbie countered, "as he'd probably get some great songs out of it!" "Nah, I plan to write all my songs about you, Deb," I teased. That immediately set Stan off. "Da-na-na-na-na, my baby's got tits! Da-na-na-na-na, big big big tits!" We all cracked up. "You writing that about her or me?" Michelle asked him. "Four for the price of two?" "Nice try, but I don't share," Michelle said. "I do believe I knew that," Stan smirked. "Good. Now back to the topic at hand," Michelle said, turning back to me. "Damn. I liked that topic better." "Of course you did. The topic was tits, and you're a guy," Debbie giggled. "Exactly." "Anyhow," Michelle said firmly, "Eddie, are you sure?" "Well, who's ever sure? I think it's the right thing, at least for now. When she's in Michigan? We'll see." "Well, it's your life," Debbie said. "His life, but our band," Michelle mock-grumbled. "Don't worry, I won't let the band down. I'll either be writing happy songs or sad songs, so who cares?" AUGUST 27th, 1982 The rest of the summer went fine. Olivia and I seemingly recovered everything that was good about our relationship. The love, the sex, the easy way we had with each other--all of it. It was like we'd never had a problem. She left Wednesday the 25th. She actually had to check into the dorm that Friday, which was today, the 27th. I wouldn't be checking into my dorm until Sunday the 29th. I was glad it was shortly afterwards, though. Because, by the time she left, I really didn't want her to go. It almost would've been easier to have broken up at the beginning of the summer. With that in mind, the day after she left, I sat down and wrote a song, called "Only A Phone Call Away". She's not here She's gone to where she needs to be And I fear That it's all gonna drive me crazy And I understand And I wait for another day And I keep telling myself She's only a phone call away There's no touch There's no way to kiss her and hold her It's too much Makes me want to forget what I told her But I sympathize So I hold back what I want to say And keep telling myself She's only a phone call away Comes a time you gotta read the tea leaves Comes a time you gotta hedge your bets But I'd bet every penny I own, girl That you're not done with me yet I can't see Can't see past tomorrow, can't see what's there It's not me To live in the present without much of a care But I'm all right If I can stay forever in today For when tomorrow comes She's only a phone call away Comes a time you must ignore the future Comes a time you must forget the past Comes a time you just rejoice in the moment For as long as you can make it last She's so far Far away in distance, away in time But I see stars Every time I hear her voice on the line So I hold on tight To the smile that can last all day Maybe for now it's enough That she's only a phone call away Yeah, just for now it's enough That she's only a phone call away I will see you again If only in my dreams... On this day, the 27th, I taught it to the band. We learned it quickly. And Stan cracked me up by calling me "Genius" for the rest of the practice! AUGUST 29th, 1982 My first day on the lovely campus of Boston College. Boston College isn't actually in Boston. It's in Chestnut Hill. Which isn't a municipality of its own, it's a village. But still not in Boston. It's in the neighboring city of Newton. It's real close to Boston, mind you. But unlike Boston University--which is actually in Boston and has an urban campus--Boston College is suburban. Even bucolic in spots. It's compact and leafy and pretty. We pulled up to the dorm. They had folks with tables out in front, registering arriving students and doling out room keys. I was in a six-story dorm, co-ed by floors. The even numbered floors had girls, the odd numbered boys. I was on the third floor. I had some stuff with me, of course, and Mom and Dad were there. Dad had rented a truck to get all my stuff in--I'd go back for a weekend later on to grab my car--and Mom and Dad helped me lug the stuff up to the third floor. We walked in with a load of stuff--and I met my roommate. His name was Max Goldberg. He was a tall, very skinny guy with enormous glasses. He was from somewhere on Long Island, and was majoring in Computer Science. And it became quickly apparent that my new roomie was a first-class Grade A nerd. I mean, he was straight out of Revenge Of The Nerds... or would be when it was released! Of course, I sympathized, being a closet nerd myself (and in the first life, it wasn't so closet!) After we got my stuff up--and I hugged Mom and Dad goodbye--my roomie and I went to the dining hall to get some grub and to get to know one another a bit. And my suspicion about Max proved to be true--he'd had a rough time of it in high school. "Mine was in junior high. I wised up some after that." He looked at me, surprised. "You had problems? But you just told me you were in a popular rock band! And you're big!" I laughed. "I wasn't always big, and I wasn't always in a rock band. The rock band disguises how much of a nerd I am, but before that, yeah. I got beat up a lot." "You? A nerd?" he snorted. "Yeah. Hey, I was salutatorian of my class. Straight-A student. That got me picked on." "I see that," he agreed. Of course, if he was skeptical about my status as a closeted nerd, he became even more skeptical after we got back to the room. We were chatting, and there was a knock on the door. I opened it to find Debbie and Michelle. "There you are!" Debbie said. "We couldn't find the damn dorm!" "Did you find each others' easier?" I laughed. "We're in the same one, two floors apart," Michelle laughed. "Ours is all female, though. I think I like this one better!" "Don't let Stan hear that," I teased. "Anyhow, get your asses in here." I led them into the room, where Max was sitting in a chair at his desk. He looked up, saw the girls, and his eyes just about popped out of his head! "This is my roomie, Max. Max, these are my friends Debbie and Michelle." "Nice to meet you, Max," Michelle said enthusiastically. Debbie followed suit. They moved over to shake his hand--and poor Max was practically shaking! Just to make him even more incredulous, Michelle plopped down on my bed next to me. Debbie commandeered the chair by my desk. "Did you get here today as well, Max?" Debbie asked. "Here on campus, yes," he managed to get out. "My parents and I stayed in a hotel last night." "Where are you from?" "Long Island, New York, a town called Huntington. It's about in the middle of Long Island, on the north shore. Are you guys from the same city as Ed?" "Yep," Michelle confirmed. "I've known this putz since eight grade." "A couple years after for me," Debbie said. "When I auditioned for the band. Little did I know what I was getting into." "Ah, shaddap," I said. "Oh, you're in his band?" Max asked. "We are," Michelle confirmed. "I play bass. Debbie plays a little bit of everything." "Sax and guitar, mostly," Debbie laughed. "And Michelle shares the lead vocals with Ed." "And, now, the songwriting," I pointed out. "We've been a cover band." I told Max, "you know, playing dances and parties and stuff. But Michelle and I write songs and so we're trying to get an original set list so we can play the clubs here in town." "Where do you guys practice?" Max asked. "Well, when we're back in Cabot, usually at Stan's house," Michelle grinned. "Stan is our lead guitarist, and Michelle's boyfriend," I told Max. "Here--well, we have a rehearsal space. It's down near BU, not too far from here. The parents pitched in and rented it for us for the year." "Dave, our drummer, goes to BU, he found it," Debbie told him. "So the whole band doesn't go here?" Max asked. "Nope." I explained to him where we were all going. "But that makes four of us here, which is cool." "Yeah, we have to keep an eye on him, you know," Debbie teased. We chatted for a while into the night. Max even loosened up some. But he kept staring at Debbie! Debbie, of course, was amused. After they left, Max shot me an amused look. "Yeah, a nerd. Sure you are. With girls like that hanging around? Yeah, you're such a nerd." "They're just friends." "Yeah, fine, so what does your girlfriend look like?" "That," I said, pointing to the picture of Livvie I had on my desk. "See? You even have a girlfriend! And you're a nerd. Yep." I just had to laugh. I couldn't actually explain it to him, could I? He got up and looked closer at the picture. "Cute. Does she go here as well?" "No, she goes to Eastern Michigan University." He looked at me. "Long story," I sighed. "Long distance," he said. "That's rough." "Yeah." "Is it going to work?" "We'll see." SEPTEMBER 1st, 1982 The first week of school for us incoming freshmen was orientation. Part of it was useful--the tours and whatnot. But, of course, there was a lot of boring meetings and seminars and all that. I'd already declared my major and had registered for classes, so I didn't have to do any of that. And, because I'd declared my major, I was assigned an advisor from the Psychology department, and met with her. That sort of thing. Max and I had spent a lot of the first couple of days of orientation together, but of course we had different majors and different advisors. So, while walking back from the meeting with my advisor on this day, I was alone. I headed towards the dorm to roust Max to get some supper. I got into the dorm and stepped into the elevator. And got quite a surprise. "Eddie? Do you live here?" "Kelly! How are you?" "I'm good," she smiled. "Yourself?" "Great. And, yes, I live here. On the third." "I'm up on the sixth, the top floor," she laughed. "Stay away from the windows," I joked. "Oh, God. My roommate is afraid of heights. She's mortified she got the top floor. Guess who got the bed near the windows? Not her!" That made me laugh to myself. In the first life, when I'd gone to St. Louis University, I'd lived on the fourteenth floor! "What are you majoring in?" I asked. "English, with an education minor." "High school English teacher?" "Yep. How about you?" "Psychology and pre-med." "That and the band? You're gonna have no time to party!" "Since when have I been a party animal anyhow?" I laughed. "We play music while other people party." "Good point," she grinned. The elevator stopped. "Here's your floor." I looked at her for a second, and played a hunch. "You busy? Want to come chat for a bit?" "Yeah, I'd like to catch up," she said easily. "I've got nothing to do except supper, and that can keep." "Cool," I said. "Me too, but I was gonna look for my roomie first, and I don't think he's back yet." We headed for my room. I plopped down on the bed and beckoned her to my desk chair. She sat down on it. I took a good look at her. I hadn't really looked at her in... well, in a long time. She looked good. She'd always been thin, but she'd filled out some. She'd also changed her hair--she had that horrible eighties short feathered thing in high school. That was gone. Her hair had grown out and was more natural. I liked it a lot better--whoever invented the feathered bob should be shot. "So, where's Patrick?" I asked. "Here," she laughed. "Yup, we're back in the same school again. He's doing history and pre-law." "Good for him." "Yep. I've seen Michelle in the dining hall. Is the whole band here?" "Nope. Michelle, Debbie, Kenny and I. Dave's at BU, Karen at Northeastern, and Stan's at Framingham State." "But you're staying together?" "Yep." I explained to her the original songs idea. "That sounds great!" she enthused. "What's your roommate like?" I laughed. "He's a really nice guy named Max, from Long Island. A computer science major, and a complete nerd." "Good, you guys should get along well," she teased. "Try and tell him that!" I laughed. "Because I'm in a band--and because Michelle and Debbie stopped by the first night--he won't believe I'm a nerd at heart." "Good thing he doesn't know how good you are in bed, he'd really never believe it," she giggled--then caught herself short. "Oh, I shouldn't have said that." "Why not?" I said easily. "Like I don't want to hear how good I am in bed?" She let out a snort of laughter, then sobered. "Didn't want to bring up bad memories." "Only one memory is bad, Kel. The rest are good." She smiled. "OK. For me too." She took a breath. "I know it's way too late, but I really am sorry. I handled things as bad as they could've been handled." "It's not too late, but it's water under the bridge, Kel. I'd like to think we can be friends, though. We were friends for a very long time." "Yes, we can," she said, with a big smile and visibly relieved. Then she giggled. "I guess we'd better, since we're practically living together." Now that was the Kelly I knew! "Yep, with you on top," I teased. She started, then cracked up. "Anyhow, what's your roomie like, besides being acrophobic?" "She's ok. She's nice and all. A bit too much of the 'ohmygod!' Valley Girl type for my taste, but she's ok. She's even from California!" "Bet you can't wait for the first snowstorm." "It will be amusing, for sure!" She looked at my desk, at the picture on it. "Livvie. You guys still together?" "Yeah." "I heard she went away to school." "Yeah, Eastern Michigan." "How's that working out?" "We'll see," I said. She laughed. "It's probably a good thing. Between your band and your major, you won't have time for a girlfriend." "Oh, I can always make time for a girlfriend," I smirked. "I said a girlfriend, not sex," she laughed. "Uh-huh." Just then the door opened. In walked Max. Not to my surprise, I got A Look from him. I smirked, and introduced them. Kelly and I chatted for a bit, then she went to find her roommate to get some supper. Max and I headed off to the dining hall ourselves. I waited for it. Didn't have long to wait, either. "So, how many other gorgeous girls are going to be coming to our room?" "I think that's probably about it," I said, bemused. "Well, Kara will probably stop by eventually." "Kara?" "Yeah. She goes to Wellesley, but I'm sure she'll end up here for hanging out at some point. Her boyfriend goes to Harvard, so she'll be there most often, but we're the best of friends, so I'm sure she'll visit sooner or later." "How is it your friends with all these girls who you've never dated?" "Who said I never dated any of them?" I said with a smirk. "These are all ex-girlfriends?" he said, amazed. "Some of them. I never dated Michelle. Never dated Debbie, either, if you want to get technical about it, though we did go to the prom together. And the hotel room after the prom, as well." "You don't have to paint me a picture," he smirked. "Didn't think I did," I smirked. "But Debbie and I are still just friends. But I did date Kara, in fact she was my first. We broke up because of distance, mostly, and now she has a very serious boyfriend." "And the one I met today, Kelly?" "Yeah. Ninth grade. Let's just say it ended badly." "But you're still friends?" "We haven't been, actually. This is a welcome development. We've known each other since first grade. We were friends long before we started dating. I'd like to be friends again." "Well, that's cool," Max said. SEPTEMBER 8th, 1982 Considering that I was a friggin' time traveller, I'd become fairly well immune to being shocked. Now, I did say fairly well immune--not completely. Because I got a shock on this day. It was a Wednesday. Classes had started the day before. I had a couple of classes on Tuesdays--a history class and an English comp class--but my three biggies were on Monday, Wednesday and Friday: Biology, Chemistry, and my intro to Psychology class. Biology was first for me, at 9 AM. The shock was who was sitting there when I walked into Bio: Jerry Shelkow. My high school best friend. In the first life! I'd met Jerry--aka Crash, because of a car accident senior year--freshman year at the Prep. We quickly became fast friends. Since I didn't go to the Prep this time around, I didn't meet Crash, nor did I expect to. No, I didn't expect to meet him at BC--because he didn't go to BC the first time around. He went the same place I did, St. Louis U. He didn't finish there, either, though he made it 3 years to my 2, and he did finish college itself, at Merrimack. But BC? Nope. I didn't figure he'd gone to SLU because of my influence the first time around, but it certainly looked like a possibility. Why else would he have ended up at BC this time? Anyhow, somehow I had to figure out a way to 'meet' him. Hey, I hadn't changed my personality that much--the potential for a friendship should still be there, shouldn't it? I thought so, anyway. Now I just had to figure out a way to meet him. I still wasn't the most outgoing person in the world! SEPTEMBER 25th, 1982 On the 24th, which was a Friday, I took the train home, planning to finally bring my car back to campus. I slept at home on Friday, intending to drive back to campus Saturday morning. But, first, I made a stop--I zipped up to New Hampshire and stopped in at Daddy's Junky Music. A New England institution, Daddy's was a great place to buy instruments. I'd been going there since I was old enough to drive--in the first life. They'd open up a store right in Cabot in a few years, but, in 1982, Salem, New Hampshire, was where I went. I was looking for another guitar. Like I didn't have enough! Hey, I liked guitars. And one that I didn't own, but wanted, was a 12-string acoustic. I had a 12-string electric--a Rickenbacker, my prize guitar, one I'd always wanted in the first life--and a couple of regular 6-string acoustics, but I didn't have an acoustic 12-string. So, I stopped into Daddy's to see what they had. I got a nice Yamaha at a reasonable price. When you're a guitar player, and you love guitars, and you buy a new one--well, it's like a normal person buying a new car. You must show it off. And you must preferably show it off to someone who knows the difference between a 12-string Rickenbacker and a Ford Mustang. For me, that would be Stan, Debbie, or Michelle. Stan wasn't on campus, of course, but I called him down in Framingham, seeing if he wanted to come up, but he was out. Michelle was also out--probably the same place Stan was! Debbie, however, was in her room. "Bought a new 12-string Yamaha acoustic," I said after the barest of greeting preambles. "Ooooh! Get your ass over here!" So, I packed up the guitar and headed over to Debbie's dorm. Since this was an all-girl dorm, I had to be checked in. The front desk called up to Debbie, who confirmed that she was, indeed, expecting some guy with a guitar and that I should come on up. I got off the elevator, and she was waiting for me in the hallway. She quickly reached for the guitar. "Gimme!" "Nice to see you too, dear." She just giggled and opened the case. "Oooh, nice," she said, picking the guitar up. "You know, you could've waited until we got to your room to break the thing out." "Why bother?" she smirked. "Got a pick?" "In the case." She grabbed one, and strummed an experimental chord. "It's nicely in tune," she said. "Of course it is. You think I'd be walking around with an out of tune guitar?" "Yeah, yeah, yeah. Sit," she said, as she did just that, on the floor in the middle of the hallway. Bemused, I sat next to her. She played a few random riffs and phrases. "Hey, this has pretty easy action for an acoustic, especially a 12-string." "Better than yours?" "Yeah." Deb owned a 12-string Ovation acoustic. "Mine's great, but this one's a wee bit better, I think. You've played mine," she pointed out. "Not recently, though." "True." She ripped out a chord and grinned at me as the sound reverberated through the hallway. Then she grinned wider and strummed a riff. It was instantly recognizable: Queen's "Crazy Little Thing Called Love." I grinned back and her and picked up the vocals. As she played and I sang, I noticed doors opening up and down the hall, and people peering out. We finished up. "Looks like we're attracting attention," I told her. "I don't think too many people on the floor know I play." "They do now!" One girl approached us. "Is that your guitar?" she asked Debbie. "Hi, Janet. No, it's Eddie's," she said, pointing to me. "He brought it over to show it to me." "Yeah, I just bought it and now I can't get it back!" I teased. "Oh, here, spoilsport," she said, handing me the guitar. "Show off for my floormates, Studley," she giggled. "Play 'Here Comes The Sun'." "Can't. Don't have my capo." "Hold on." She got up and ran into a room a couple of doors down from where we were sitting. She quickly emerged with a capo--which she tossed to me--her own Ovation, and a small blonde. "This is my roomie, Caroline. This is my pal Eddie," she said. I greeted Caroline. She returned the greeting--barely. And very softly. And boy was she blushing! Debbie caught my eye, out of sight of Caroline, and mouthed, "Shy." Seemed like it! "Anyhow," she said, "put on the capo and play some Beatles, eh?" So I did. She strummed some chords in the background while I did the finger picking on "Here Comes The Sun." By the time we got done, I think her entire floor was out in the hall watching us. "Ok, what else you got?" I said after we'd gotten done. She grinned and started playing the opening chords to Springsteen's "The River". I joined right in and sang the lead vocal. Deb chipped in on the harmonies. And we were getting complete, rapt attention from her floormates. When we were done, I looked at her and said, "Crazy Love." She grinned and played the intro, and into the song we went, harmonizing together. "You guys are great," a tall brunette said when we were done. "You should get a band together or something." We both laughed. "We've been in a band together for a couple of years now, Suzy," Debbie told her. "Eddie plays guitar and does some of the lead vocals. My friend Michelle--you've met her--plays bass and does the rest of the lead vocals. I play guitar and sax." "And percussion, and backing vocals, and sometimes flute," I added, chuckling. "And french horn on 'God Only Knows', don't forget about that." "I should learn piano," she laughed. "Though we have enough keyboard players." We played a few more tunes for them. And Debbie's roomie, Caroline, spent the whole time staring at me! OCTOBER 20th, 1982 Things had been going well. Classes were fine. I was meeting people--including Crash. We ended up sitting next to each other one day in Biology class, and I said something to him about the lecture. He laughed, and said something back later. We ended up eating lunch a few days later. We'd done that a couple of times. We seemed to be getting along well, which was nice. The band was practicing a lot, and we got a gig to play BC's halloween dance, to be held on Saturday the 30th. That was in our old role as a cover band; however, the following Friday, we had our first gig as an original-songs band. It was at a hole in the wall in Cambridge, but you have to start somewhere. The only problem was Livvie. The letters got more and more infrequent. The phone calls got more infrequent and shorter. And during our last one, on Sunday the 17th, she sounded distracted and uninterested. So, yeah, I saw it coming. The Dear John letter. I got it today. "So very sorry, was lonely, met someone else," blah blah blah. Nope, I wasn't surprised. Pissed? Yeah, that I was. Livvie was a mistake I wasn't going to make again. ------- Incomplete and Inactive ------- Posted: 2004-04-13 Last Modified: 2007-02-09 / 12:04:35 am ------- http://storiesonline.net/ -------