Chapter 45: The Heart of the Matter

October 13, 1983

It was late afternoon; I was through with classes for the day. I was on my way out of the apartment, bound for practice, when the phone rang. I considered ignoring it and continuing onward, but thought better of it.

Upon answering, I was greeted by a most welcome voice.

“So, Mr. O’Malley, what’s this I hear about you? Someone else is calling you ‘Dreamy’ now?”

“Patti!” I exclaimed. Then I laughed as I told her, “It sure sounds like you’ve been talking to a mutual friend of ours.”

“Why do you say that?” giggled Patti, expressing playful but feigned innocence. “It’s just that word on the street is that you’ve fallen head over heels in love with a girl in your band.”

“Word on the street, my ass,” I chortled. “You’ve been talking to Evie. But yeah, it’s true. Every bit of it.”

Once she’d gotten that out of me, Patti stopped playing coy.

“I talked to Inez a lot that night you guys played at the prom,” she related. “She’s terrific. I’m very happy for you. You deserve it, especially after what happened with your last relationship. So, tell me about it. I want to hear the whole story.”

And I shared it with her. I’d told the same story many times already, but it was one I never got tired of telling. Eventually, the conversation came around to what was happening in Patti’s life.

“Everything with me is still full speed ahead,” she laughed. “School pretty much takes up all of my time. I thought about trying to graduate one semester early, but I decided against it. I’ll get my bachelor’s degree at the same time you do. Then, it’s on to med school. The nice thing about not graduating early is that I’ll have next summer off, like a normal college student.”

“We’ll have to get together then. By the way, does everyone have World Series fever down there in Baltimore?”

“It’s all anyone’s talking about.”

I chatted with Patti for a short while longer, and then realized I was running late.

“Gotta go, Patti. We have practice in a few, and they’re probably wondering what happened to me. Keep in touch, okay?”

“I will. And say hi to everyone for me.”

October 15, 1983

Yet again, I was behind the wheel of my Datsun, racing down the turnpike. Just like before, it was late morning, and four passengers were inside with me. The makeup and seating arrangements were a little different this time, however. Dave was now seated up front. The three girls in attendance, Eileen, Inez and Lisette, had decided to take over the back seat.

Lisette was clearly having the time of her life. Not only was she about to attend a World Series game, she was reveling in the opportunity to hang out with us, almost as peers. She was far more talkative than I’d ever seen her.

Inez, likewise, was thrilled about being able to watch a World Series game live and in person. “I never imagined I’d have a chance to do this,” she had said to me earlier. “It’s just another in a long line of amazing things that have happened to me since I met you.”

Touched by that remark, I nonetheless cracked, “But you already know who’s going to win.”

“That doesn’t matter,” she giggled. “It’s the experience that counts.”

Rather than heading for home, I planned to drive straight into Philly. We’d meet up with Dad, Mom and Seamus at the stadium. After the game, we all planned to go out somewhere for a bite to eat, and then drop by our place for a little while.

A couple of days previously, I’d casually mentioned to Seamus that Inez’s cousin would be coming to the game. He didn’t have too much to say about it; another matter was weighing on his mind.

“Heather told me earlier that she changed her mind, and wanted to go to the game. I guess the ticket’s been given away, right? I’ll have to break the news to her.”

“I guess she decided,” I said wryly, “that baseball isn’t for nerds after all.”

“I guess so,” echoed my brother.

I then proceeded to reinforce the lecture I’d given him that Sunday, about how Heather might not be deserving of the attention he was heaping upon her. He spoke a few words of agreement at the points I made; I suspected that my advice was just going in one ear and out the other. I couldn’t be too hard on him, though. I’d been the same way, hadn’t I?

At the stadium, we met up with the rest of my family. I introduced Lisette to my parents and my brother. While we made our way into the facility, surrounded by noisy, animated fans, I whispered to Inez, “Well, we introduced them, right? Let the chips fall where they may.”

“The rest is up to them,” she said in full agreement.

We did plan to enact a little scheme to maybe help matters along, however, and we’d enlisted the help of Eileen and Dave.

When we reached our seats, Eileen made sure she was the first one to enter the row, taking the seat furthest in. Dave, of course, followed. Before anyone else had a chance to cut in behind him, I moved in and seized the next seat. Inez, naturally, claimed the next one. We figured that Lisette would want to sit next to her cousin, and we were right. Since Dad and Mom preferred to be next to the aisle, the only remaining option for Seamus was to take the seat between Lisette and Mom. Perfect!

The game got underway. The home team was already behind the eight ball, trailing two games to one in the series. But you’d never know it from the mood of the enormous crowd. It was announced that 66,947 fans were in attendance.

I leaned in and whispered into my girlfriend’s ear, “Even though the Phillies are going to lose, I have to admit it’s fun knowing something that 66,945 other people don’t know.” She grinned at me.

In the sixth inning, the Orioles took a 4-3 lead, one I knew they wouldn’t relinquish. This particular game carried nowhere near the significance for me that the other one did. Because of that, I couldn’t recall many of the details. But I did know the end result, which meant that I didn’t follow the game as closely as I otherwise might have.

Needless to say, there was a non-baseball matter that held a good portion of my attention for the duration of the game. And the person in perfect position to monitor that concern was Inez, seated right next to Lisette. Every so often, she would throw me an update.

“They’re definitely talking a lot,” she told me quietly, referring to my brother and her cousin. “But it seems to be innocent stuff, like school, and the game itself.”

“Keep me posted,” I smiled. I couldn’t deny it ... I really could not wait to talk to Seamus afterward.

The Orioles put a run on the board in the seventh to increase their lead to 5-3. In the bottom of the ninth, with the home crowd having grown quiet, the Phillies threatened. They managed to push one run across the plate, making it 5-4, but left the tying run on base. Game over. We made our way out of the stadium, along with the rest of the mostly disappointed audience.

“That’s it. Their goose is cooked,” said a dejected Dave. “No way are they coming back from a three games to one deficit.”

I, of course, could offer him no consolation.

Out in the parking lot, we agreed to meet at a Friendly’s restaurant not too far from our house. Dad had a suggestion.

“We’ve got plenty of room in our car. Pat’s car is full. Anyone want to ride over with us?”

Imagine our surprise when the normally shy Lisette immediately volunteered to hop a ride with Dad, Mom and Seamus. The other four of us exchanged hopeful smiles as we got into my car. The ride to the restaurant was full of humorous speculation.

“I can’t wait to tell Mayra about this,” exclaimed Inez. “She’ll flip out!”

“Maybe Seamus will finally put Little Miss Heather in her place,” cracked Eileen, who then directed a comment my way. “I feel so old! Our little brother is turning into a ladies’ man.”

“If you feel old,” I said wryly, “imagine how I feel.”

“Trust me, sweetie,” Inez put in. “You’re not that old.” There was a slightly risque tone to her voice, which caused both Dave and Eileen to erupt in laughter.

“Too much information!” chortled Dave. And then he followed up with a remark that only he could make, directing it to Inez.

“Maybe someday, you and Lisette will be both first cousins and sisters-in-law. I thought things like that only happened in West Virginia.” All four of us started cracking up.

At the restaurant, the conversation flowed easily among the eight people present. Little occurred there to fan the flames of speculation surrounding Lisette and my brother. I realized that there was one thing I admired about Lisette: all day long, she’d been merely a slightly more outgoing version of the young girl I’d always known. Many, many fourteen-year-olds would have tried far too hard in a situation like this, showing off. And my brother, who’d been forced way out of his comfort zone by Heather, was now being himself.

We swung by our house for a quick visit, and then the five of us headed out on the road. We decided not to question Lisette at all during the drive home. Inez would talk with her one on one later, and I would have a similar talk with Seamus. By the time I made it back to the apartment, it was too late to call my brother. I’d have to wait until the next day, even though my curiosity was off the scale.

October 16, 1983

“Lisette’s a really cool girl,” Seamus told me over the phone. “She knows more about baseball than any girl I’ve ever known.”

I’d waited till the afternoon before giving him a call. I didn’t bring Lisette up right away, instead focusing on other matters. But eventually, we’d gotten around to discussing her.

“Did you have the chance to talk to her a lot?” I threw out there, asking a question whose answer I already knew. I was just feeling him out.

“Yeah,” he replied. “And you know what? It’s real easy to talk to her. She doesn’t make me nervous like a lot of girls do.” And then, he moved on to another subject. This gave me the impression that although he was fond of Lisette, the romantic spark just wasn’t there for him.

As soon as I got off the phone, I drove over to Inez’s apartment. I told her about my little chat with my brother. She had some news of her own.

“I talked to Lisette,” she related. “They did exchange phone numbers. But like you, I also got the idea that the connection between them is more friendship than romance.”

I thought that over for a moment.

“You know what? That’s not the worst thing in the world.”

“No,” agreed my sweetie, “it isn’t.”

October 20, 1983

I was camped out in the aisle of a downtown pharmacy, comparing cold medicines. Not for my use; rather, for my girlfriend’s. Inez had come down with a nasty cold. My first concern was helping her to feel better, so I’d insisted on making a drugstore run. She, however, was more worried about our shows on the two nights which followed. As was the case with most Friday nights since school started, we’d been booked to play at a dorm party. On Saturday night, we had a rare out-of-season beach nightclub engagement scheduled.

“I’m doing those gigs,” she sniffled, “even if I have to hand off some of the vocals to Eileen or Evie.”

“Let’s think about that tomorrow,” I told her, “and get some medicine in you right now.”

I was reading over the fine print on the boxes, when I slowly became aware of the song that was emanating from the store’s sound system. By now, my mind was typically focused on one thing whenever I hear a brand-new song in this time period, or an older one I hadn’t heard in a long while: How well could Lightning cover that tune?

Right now, I was listening to a lesser-known Simon and Garfunkel song from the sixties, whose title was “Hazy Shade of Winter”. But this version, a great tune in its own right, was not the one which held my current interest. I immediately thought of The Bangles’ cover version, which was quite different from the original, featuring girl harmonies and a crunching guitar solo. And I thought to myself, Oh, man! Could we ever do a kick-ass version of that song!

And then I thought about it a little more. It occurred to me that the Bangles’ version wouldn’t come out for a few more years. I was actually quite disappointed when I realized that. Damn! But wait a minute...

The song had already been written and recorded. It wasn’t as if we were stealing someone else’s song in that regard. Was there anything unethical about imitating someone else’s future cover version?

When it came to cover songs from a few years down the road, “Hazy Shade of Winter” was not the only one with this kind of appeal. Another I’d thought of previously was The Black Crowes’ cover of “Hard To Handle”. In my other life, I’d been in my late twenties when that one was released. And whenever it came on the radio when I was driving in my car, I’d roll down the window and belt out the vocals, not caring whether anyone saw me or not. I was positive I could still sing it now. And hell, even “Total Eclipse of the Heart” had been covered in techno-dance style in the ‘90’s.

Inez, Evie and I had already brought up, and summarily dismissed, the concept of using my pre-knowledge to scope out original songs from the future and claim them as our own. Anyone with even a trace of good sense would view that as unethical, and we wanted no part of that. Perhaps cover songs were more of a gray area. To be sure, however, something still seemed wrong about it to me. I wanted to bounce it off of my two-person advisory committee.

Back at Inez’s dwelling, I poured out a spoonful of cough syrup. “Open up,” I directed my poor hacking, sniffling sweetie, before feeding her the medicine. My careful aiming caused Evie, seated nearby, to giggle softly.

“What’s so funny?” I smiled at her.

“I’ll never get tired of watching the two of you in action.”

It wasn’t too long before I mentioned the song I had heard in the drugstore. Inez, who had nearly as extensive of a music collection as I did, shuffled off into her room and retrieved a Simon and Garfunkel tape. We listened to the song in question.

“It’s a good song,” Inez acknowledged between sniffles, “but I can’t imagine it being something we’d ever be interested in doing.”

“You’d think so,” I commented, “but I wish you could listen to this cover version from the future. I can still hear it in my mind. It’s a perfect fit for our style. Still, I’m of two minds whether it’s a good idea for us to attempt it. It just strikes me as something that shouldn’t be done.”
“I agree, Pat,” Evie observed. “It’s not as obviously unethical as stealing someone’s song outright, but it’s certainly not out of the question that we’d be taking money out of someone’s pocket in the future. And someone could even accuse that band of stealing and recording our cover version. I’m no lawyer, so I don’t know whether that would be an issue or not, but let’s play it safe.”

“There’s another thing to consider, too,” Inez put in. “Put aside the ethical concerns. Would it be smart for us to do that? I don’t think it would be. When the cover version does come out a few years from now, everyone who heard us perform the song would be suspicious, even our fellow bandmates. We need to keep a low profile regarding your pre-knowledge, sweetie, and this would be doing the exact opposite.”

I nodded in agreement. I had to admit they’d made excellent points.

“That’s why I consult my Advisory Board before acting,” I said, smiling at them both. “And it’s not like there isn’t enough excellent material out there to work with. We don’t have to dip into the future, anyhow.”

October 22, 1983

Even with Inez in less than peak form, we gave them our best at that Friday night dorm party. Eileen did in fact step forward to handle the lion’s share of the female vocals. My sister’s forte was always the more pop-oriented fare, which meant that we included songs like “Flashdance ... What A Feeling” and Laura Branigan’s “Gloria”. Re-establishing our rock cred, I handled the challenging lead vocal on Def Leppard’s “Photograph”. We gave them our take on the ubiquitous “Every Breath You Take” by The Police, as well as David Bowie’s “Modern Love”. We also debuted a tune we’d just learned, “True” by Spandau Ballet, a song I always loved to sing, and one which allowed Evie and her sax to really shine.

The following night’s show was an early evening affair, with another act scheduled to follow us. With summer beach season a distant memory at this point, we were surprised to find the place jam-packed. We gave them three full sets, and finished up before ten o’clock, which left much of the evening still ahead of us. As a result, Dave and Eileen had declared this to be Date Night, as had Dennis and Mayra, and they all split the scene. As he sometimes did, Paul wanted to hang around and mingle with the audience and other musicians who might be on hand. Inez, still feeling a little under the weather, had a suggestion for me.

“I want to go home and sleep, to get rid of this freakin’ cold,” my sweetie put forth, “but why don’t you stay and hang out with Paul? I can ride back with Evie.” Since learning that Paul and I had been lifelong friends in the other timeline, Inez had been encouraging me to do as much as I could to recreate that situation in this life.

“Don’t worry, Pat,” said Evie with a smile. “I’ll take good care of her.” Knowing full well that she would, I went back inside to join Paul.