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."