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.