Sunday, October 5, 2008

Chapter Ten

“Drink up, baby, stay up all night. With the things you could do, you won't but you might. The potential you'll be that you'll never see. The promises you'll only make.” Elliot Smith


The rest of the tour was as successful as that first show. Each night was full, everyone wanting to see The Wake before they hit it big, so they could say they were there. It was a tour of potential, waiting for when they’d go from the next big thing to household name. Well, household name for hip 20-somethings and teenagers. But when we returned home, all that potential felt trapped inside us. An object in motion stays in motion, unless it has to register for classes it doesn’t care about to fill requirements. I couldn’t forget the painful jealousy and fear of losing Andrew, and Marie’s lack of support. Laying in bed at night, my mind raced, dancing over and over my fears, until I would cover my ears and pray for sleep.
Marie grew increasingly hostile because Viv and Jason had a brief fling somewhere between San Francisco and Portland. Truthfully, their temperaments were more suited to each other, excitable and lighthearted. But Marie was territorial, and used passive aggressive tactics that Viv just ignored. I tried to reason with her, talk her down, but her bitterness was impenetrable.
“She’s just such a slut sometimes.” Marie was flipping through some notes for an exam half-heartedly and bad-mouthing Viv.
“Oh come on, you didn’t even like Jason that much.” I rolled my eyes.
“Yeah but how could she even want sloppy seconds like that, right? She just degrades herself by sleeping with anyone who can carry her drunk ass to a bed.”
“Whoa, M. I think you’re going a little far, she’s not like that. Yeah, she’s wild, but Whore of Babylon she’s not.” “Whatever, she’s a beer slut, or a coke whore, or whatever substance she’s on today.”
“I can’t listen to this, you’re being ridiculous.” I was shocked. Marie had never been this harsh about one of us before. I figured she was upset, and maybe hurt, but she sounded absolutely acidic.
I grabbed my things and went to Andrew’s. As I sat on the T, i pulled out my cell phone to call Viv.
“Hey you’ve reached Vivian, leave a message, unless you’re part of my family. Family, stop leaving me messages! I will call when I have time! Geez!”
I smiled faintly. She changed her message weekly, but it was always perfect Viv. The train stopped on a main street of bars, and I got out on a whim. I couldn’t face Andrew’s tonight. I knew I would just go over with him Marie’s coldness, a topic he was probably sick of. I felt like I was chipping away at our relationship every time I saw him. He was getting ready to graduate and moving to Brooklyn to record a new album. I had started to pull away, because I was waiting for the day he’d break up with me. He had already stopped asking what was wrong.
I was almost embarrassed be out dressed like this. I was wearing cropped skinny jeans, flats and a black button up oxford with a black cashmere sweater over it. My hair was in its typical Audrey style, bangs with a small bouffant look, except mine was still bleached white blonde. I walked to the bar, ignoring everyone around me. I sat on a stool and ordered a gin martini. Eating the olives first, I tried to tell myself that I was not falling apart. My friends were ok, my relationship was as easy at it used to be, and my grades would be fine. I had been slacking off on my science requirements, and was completely out of my league in organic chemistry. I had no internship for the summer, and my advisor had told me I needed to pick up my grades if I wanted to go to grad school. I didn’t want to go, really, but four more years after I graduated next year of putting off real life sounded really good. I had accidentally wandered into a busy bar, full of groups of friends chatting. It was not the kind of environment I needed for wallowing, and I ended up feeling worse. Surrounded by all these people made me feel more alone, a common ailment of depressed people I’m told.
“Finally, I found you.” I heard a familiar voice and felt a shiver run through me.
“Hey, Javi.” I looked at him as he slid onto the barstool next to me.
“Why are you all alone, chiquita?”
“Javier, that sounds like a line from a cheesy Spanish soap opera!” I rolled my eyes, “Why can’t you just talk like a normal person, not like Don Juan in a Skinemax porn.”
“You are so crazy, carina. ‘Why do you always talk like Don Juan’. Jesus. I forgot what a crazy you are.”
“Thanks, asshole.” I drained the last sip of my martini.
“So why have you been avoiding me?” he signaled the bartender, who refreshed our two drinks.
“Thanks. And because I’m with Andrew.”
“But who says I don’t just want to be friends?” He raised an eyebrow.
“Oh. Well, we were never friends,” I pointed out, “We met, we fucked, and you left.” I realized how bitter I sounded and cringed.
“I know, I know. I was an asshole. I thought about you a lot in Barcelona. You would love it there, I know. I shouldn’t have left you for Gina, I thought I loved her because she was so familiar. When I was with her again, I felt nothing, so I left.”
Hearing his explanation softened me a little. I was over the pain of the breakup, but it was nice to hear his reasoning.
“I am not a good man, Jane, especially not to you, but I have good intentions.”
“That’s ok, I’m the worst girl.” I smiled faintly.
“What?” he looked surprised.
“Oh, nothing, it’s a joke.”
I realized I was finishing my second drink, and feeling it. But it has always been my nature to drink too much when I feel a deep emotion, so I ordered another.
“Come, meet my friends.” Javier gestured to a group.
“I don’t know.” I looked down into my martini glass, “I should get going soon, I think.”
“Just meet them,” he urged.
“Ok, even though I look like shit.”
“Oh, Jane, you are fishing for a compliment, I think.”
I hit his arm, hard.
“Ok, ok, let’s go meet your friends.”
Javier’s friends were mostly older artists, who talked with the liveliness that artists often did. I wished Viv was there to join in their banter about gallery shows, their shitty day jobs, and every thing out of their mouth was said as if it was pure fact, not arguable, just truth. I found them intriguing, probably because I was drunk by then. Javier fit with these people, but he seemed like they were still feeling him out. I liked seeing him vulnerable. The guys were all flirting with me, buying me drinks with their tips from their barista jobs. I told them about Andrew, and they were all impressed. A year and a half later and Javier was cool for knowing me, not the other way around. I went to the bathroom, stumbling slightly. It was one of those bathrooms with large oversized oval mirrors and garishly bright walls. It was a party club, and the girls around me were dressed in their “going out” outfits. Low rise, tight jeans, topped with a bright flowing tank top. I could tell they wore sweatpants the rest of the week and reserved this one outfit for the “big night out”. They looked at me with condescension and I felt myself rocketed back to the high school bathrooms. I even wore that same sweater back then. This time, I looked at them and laughed. They blinked with their mouths slightly open, and hurried out. I kept laughing to myself, these girls knew nothing. Nothing at all. They loved college, loved their boyfriends, were going to be teachers or lawyers. I got drunk and high and avoided my problems. I knew Andrew and I weren’t lasting. I was desperately trying to hold on to my two best friends, the first group I felt a part of, as they damaged each other and themselves with booze and bitterness. I took a few deep breaths and then walked out of the bathroom, past the girls I had apparently terrified. I felt shaky, not from the drinks, but from the inside. I had so much building up that I needed to do something reckless or I would just suffocate. I walked back t the group and felt Javier move closer to me. He seemed tentative, and I felt in control. I looked him straight in the eye, and saw him look away slightly. That reckless feeling in the pit of my stomach surged. He was nervous. I bit my lip, and leaned in to him.
“I’m glad I saw you tonight.” I looked up through my lashes at him, “I’m going to go.”
“Call me soon, Jane.” He looked at me seriously.
I loved feeling his desire and barely caring. I took down his number, and left the bar, feeling better.

As I fumbled to fit my key into the lock, i felt the effect of all the drinks I imbibed. The lights were off in the living room, and I tripped over something, shoes perhaps. I hit the light, and stopped.
“What the fuck?”
Viv and James were tangled on the couch, half naked and fully frontal.
“Not okay!” I exclaimed, “Oh god.”
I heard Viv calling after me as I ran into Marie’s room. I flung the light switch, and jumped on her bed.
“Viv and James…They’re…Oh god, my eyes.” I stammered.
“What?” Marie blinked heavily, “They what?”
“They’re hooking up. Out there.”
“What? That WHORE.”
I was silent, not wanting to agree, but seething. We had all tried so hard to keep James platonic. Viv had just fucked it all up. If she wrecked him, and we always wrecked them, he wouldn’t invite us cool places, watch Twin Peaks on DVD with us, or let us attempt to cook dinner for him. We needed him, and now things would be awkward. I crawled into Marie’s bed, curling up and drifting into drunken sleep, anxious to face the apocalypse that tomorrow would bring. I wanted to sleep for days to avoid it all.

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