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."