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?"