Chapter 60: Closing Time

July 29, 1985

"We'll be doing this again in a few weeks, when it's my turn to move," I muttered to Paul, as he and I struggled under the weight of the sofa.

"So, I'll owe you."

Dave, meanwhile, came up and grabbed one corner. "Come on, you wimps. It's not that heavy," he cackled. Dennis directed traffic as we brought the couch down from the van – the same one Lightning in a Bottle had been using for the last couple of years to haul our band equipment. It was now serving a new purpose, that of a moving van.

Paul was in the process of moving into his new studio apartment, located about five minutes from his new place of employment, which of course was about to become mine as well. He would be starting work the following Monday, exactly one week from today. My start date was three weeks after his.

With Paul having flown the coop, Dave, Greg, and Derek were in the process of looking for a new housemate. Although Derek had graduated, he planned to stay put, at least in the short term. He'd gotten a job at a local photography studio. "This is not what I want to do in the long term," Derek had declared. "I'm just looking for some experience in the field. What I really want to do is start my own photography business." He was the one member of our gang with an entrepreneurial streak.

My own intent was to find a two-bedroom apartment. Unlike Paul, I wanted space. I'd make use of the extra bedroom somehow, perhaps turning it into an office at some point. Paul had settled on a location in a somewhat urbanized area; he wanted to have the necessary amenities in close proximity. I, however, valued peace and quiet, and sought a more tranquil location. I didn't care if I had to drive ten minutes to get to the supermarket.

This, of course, signaled the end of my tenure as Dennis' roommate. Dennis had elected to remain in our apartment, at least for now; he'd signed a new lease on his own. "I can afford it," he told me, "with this new job of mine."

Dennis had parlayed his bachelor's degree in computer science into a very promising programming opportunity right there in New Brunswick. Although I couldn't tell him this, I knew he was getting into a field that would only grow over time. He'd already been on the job for two weeks.

His girlfriend, meanwhile, had landed a position in the same industry. Mayra's new job was pretty much a mid-eighties version of a tech support position. "You won't believe how much traveling I'll have to do, at least early on," she told me one day. "Between now and December, they've got me flying all over the country for training courses and simulated service calls. They told me that once I get through all that, they'll keep me here in the local area for the most part."

Yes, these were changing times for us all. And there was one more long-term roommate arrangement that was coming to an end: Inez and Evie.

Inez, with Evie's support, had looked into university graduate housing. On a whim, she'd applied for a private single room. These were available but limited, and were doled out by lottery. But she'd been in luck, her number had come up, and she'd landed herself her own room. Once that was settled, Evie decided to find a place of her own that was a little closer to work. They planned to let their lease expire, and made arrangements to move out right after Labor Day.

I could only hope that my move would go as smoothly as Paul's had. Despite the distance – the trip was more than thirty minutes, one way – we knocked it off in one afternoon. Of course, Paul had a lot of help. Besides Dave, Dennis, Derek, Greg and I, the women in our midst enthusiastically chipped in. Inez, Evie, Eileen and Mayra all lent a hand; none of them were the type to shy away from hard physical work.

Once everything was in place, the beneficiary of our assistance sprung for some pizza to thank us all. "So, here we are, sitting in an apartment, eating pizza," laughed Paul. "What's changed?"

We all knew that in actuality, there had been a lot of changes in our lives over the past several weeks, and more were in the offing. However, our recent struggles had reinforced something in our minds – the close friendships we'd all forged with each other could survive anything life threw at us.

August 7, 1985

"Don't tell me you three are off to watch that goddamn movie again," cackled Dave.

We'd just broken off practice for the evening. Finding time to practice had become a challenge; with Evie and Paul now holding down full-time jobs, we were only able to get together one or two nights a week, if that. Tonight, in fact, Paul had been unable to make it; he'd gotten out of work late. Although practicing without our bassist was a little strange, we managed.

Now, it was about nine-thirty, and Inez, Evie and I were off to the movies, to catch the late showing of – that's right – Back to the Future. This would be the fifth time we'd seen it together in a little over a month.

We'd developed a fascination with poring over every little detail in the film and relating it to my situation. Each time we watched it, we noticed something new. Naturally, we couldn't tell the others what our motivation was. To them, it appeared that we'd simply developed a bizarre case of Back to the Future-mania. Everyone teased us about it, with Dave leading the way, but we didn't mind.

Our practice that evening was memorable in another respect, for it was then that we laid the groundwork for an unprecedented occurrence. For the first time, we made plans for another performer to take the stage with us.

That other performer was none other than Allie. She had become a frequent visitor at the Andrade residence when we practiced. Hanging out with us before practice that evening, she proclaimed, "I finally feel ready to get back on stage. I wish I didn't have to wait another couple of months, if not longer."

"So why not join us onstage for a couple of songs at one of our gigs? Get your feet wet," suggested Inez. "What do you think, everyone?" We all agreed enthusiastically.

"I don't know," replied Allie, initially somewhat reluctant. "You guys are coming down to the end now, and I don't want to cut in on that in any way."

"You're not cutting in," I assured her. "And a low-pressure situation like that will be good for you. I'm sure you've still got fans out there who will really enjoy seeing you return unexpectedly."

"Hmmm," Allie mumbled, still thinking it over.

"Just work with us here in practice, and we'll see how it goes," Dave put forth.

"I don't have my guitar," said Allie.

"So, borrow mine," I offered. And with that, she smiled and agreed to give it a shot.

For me, this was a first: I had never heard Allie play or sing up to that point. I quickly realized that she was a damn good guitarist, and a skilled vocalist with a distinctive voice. Her delivery was throaty, just a touch gravelly, with a startling degree of power.

Eileen and Dave, both of whom were quite accustomed to her abilities, grinned as Inez, Evie and I exchanged looks that said, "Holy shit! She's pretty good!"

A little later on, as we wrapped things up, Allie sported a look of exhilaration. "That was a lot of fun!" she squealed. "It has me wondering why I've been so afraid of performing."

Inez gave her a knowing look. "Then everything we've done tonight has been worth it, wouldn't you say?"

Allie nodded in agreement. "Playing live with you guys is a one-time-only thing, though. I insist. But how soon do you think we can do it?" Her eagerness was lost on none of us.

I looked at the others, and knew right away what everyone was thinking. "No sense putting it off, right? Our next show is this Friday."

August 9, 1985

"Yeah, Pat, I'm a little nervous," Allie said to me backstage a few minutes after I'd arrived. We were playing at a smaller club not far from New Brunswick. We'd held another impromptu practice – a quite lengthy one – the day before, with Paul on hand this time. It had gone so well that we'd decided to have Allie join us onstage for an entire set.

I just smiled, inviting Allie to elaborate a little more. "Not about being onstage again," she clarified. "I just know I'll be rusty."

"The rest of us all know about being rusty," I assured her. "We've had two long breaks recently – not as long as yours, I'll admit. But you're good, Allie. You'll be fine. Plus, we'll be working you in gradually throughout the set."

We blew through the first two sets with an assortment of our usual fare. As we took the stage for the third set, there was an extra guitar on a stand, attached to an amp. Still, no one in the audience was any the wiser as Eileen approached the mike.

"We have a surprise guest performer to help us out in this upcoming set," announced my sister. "She's a former member of the popular local band Velvet Frenzy. Please welcome Allie Ronson!" As a smiling Allie took the stage, waving her free hand, a hearty round of applause burst out. It was punctuated by a few screams, as many in attendance remembered Allie. We went right away into our first song. It was a deliberately ironic choice, for it was the very tune which Allie herself had pushed on us, several months previously: "Born To Run". Here, Allie chipped in with some guitar work, for "Born To Run" is a song where you can never have too many guitars.

Until we hit the last four songs in the set, Allie served as second guitarist and backup vocalist. As I'd told her earlier, our aim was to ease her into things. But with four songs left, Inez put down her guitar, assuming the role of backup vocalist for the remainder of the set. It was Allie's time to shine. She moved to the front, and just for a brief moment in time, became our lead guitarist and vocalist. She did a terrific job with Carole King's "I Feel the Earth Move", followed by Fleetwood Mac's "Dreams". The last two songs were much more contemporary. Allie handled "Would I Lie To You?' by the Eurythmics with ease. For the final number in set three, Eileen and Allie were co-vocalists. They laid down a bubbly, rollicking version of "Walking on Sunshine" by Katrina and the Waves.

At the conclusion of the set, Inez had a few words for the audience, disclosing something that up till now, was unknown to anyone outside our little circle. "We've said many times that Lightning in a Bottle will be doing its final show on Labor Day. That's definitely true. But only four of us are retiring as musicians. Two among us – Dave and Eileen – will be continuing on in a new band. And Allie will also be a member of that band."

That proclamation produced the biggest round of applause of the evening.

August 16, 1985

Another Friday night gig, another cameo appearance by a member of the new band.

Paul had informed us earlier in the week that he'd be late getting out of work and would be late for the show. There was an obvious solution, and it served a dual purpose: to allow Greg, Paul's roommate and effective understudy, to fill in for him.

Greg, remember, was a shy and quiet dude. On top of that, although he was definitely a whiz on the bass, he'd never been a part of a band, and had very little experience in performing in front of a large audience. Here was a chance for him to move beyond that, if only a little.

We discovered during practice that Greg was a fast learner. Besides being a man of few words, he was compliant by nature. Dave, who'd become pretty good at drawing him out, got him to mention a couple of songs he'd like to join in on.

"'The Chain'," he told us. "Also, I know the bass line in 'New Year's Day' really well."

Allie was also on hand. "Why don't you join us on Friday, too?" Eileen asked her, only half kidding.

"No," Allie replied right away. "Like I said before, I don't want to overshadow you guys in any way."

"There's another thing, too," I pointed out. "The worst thing you guys could do is paint yourselves as Lightning in a Bottle: The Continuation. You should try to forge your own path. You've got the talent to be a damn good band. Don't get me wrong, we want to help out in any way we can, but associating yourselves with us too much might be a handicap, not a benefit." Both Allie and Eileen nodded in concurrence.

Paul had assured us that he'd arrive by the start of the second set, so we made plans for Greg to be our bassist during set one. He did an outstanding job, taking full advantage of the opportunity, battling and ultimately defeating the butterflies he'd confessed to having before the show. We opened the show with "New Year's Day", giving him a prominent role from the get-go. We'd used the opposite strategy for Allie, but we knew that Greg was a different case entirely.

We finished the set with "The Chain". This, of course, was a tune that Inez and I simply loved to do. As for Greg, he went out on a high note, handling the distinctive bass solo in the latter portion of the song with aplomb. Paul, who'd arrived just as we started "The Chain", took his usual position at the start of the next set.

It had been another successful and highly beneficial guest appearance.

August 25, 1985

East Durham, New York

"At least this year," I said to my girlfriend, standing beside me, "we get to see the Irish festival itself." Eileen, standing on the other side of Inez, smiled and nodded in agreement.

Last year's gig here in the Catskills was one of our fondest memories, and when we were offered the same opportunity this year, we jumped at it. Once again, the venue was packed with festival attendees, most of whom were repeat visitors. As a result, the place was filled with folks who already knew us. We gave them our best, and we tried like hell to bask in the acclaim that came our way. This was, after all, our second-to-last weekend as a performing unit.

Our entire traveling party – which included Allie and Greg – stayed over in East Durham that Saturday night. We had no show scheduled for Sunday, but most of the crew skipped town early anyhow. Inez and I wanted to catch the second day of the festival, so we stuck around for a while. Eileen also wanted to stay. Evie, however, needed to head back to New Jersey bright and early. Her brother had driven in from Pittsburgh to visit her mom, and Evie wasn't about to miss the opportunity for a little family togetherness. Dave offered to drive her as far as New Brunswick. He and Eileen said their goodbyes for the day, and I headed off to the festival in the company of my girlfriend and my sister.

For Inez and me, today's activities were equal in importance to yesterday's. On a subtle level, we both were moving on with life, and we could feel our time with Lightning in a Bottle slipping away into the past. There was a certain melancholy involved with that, but neither of us had any reservations about this decision we'd made quite a while ago. Even Eileen seemed to sense – and understand – the change in our attitude. I imagined that she would have a lot to think about in the coming days.

We stopped to check out one of the dance competitions. With the weather being bright and sunny, the dancing was held outdoors on a wooden stage. One thing (out of many) I loved about Inez was her enthusiasm for immersing herself in new cultural experiences. No matter the situation, she never allowed herself to feel like a fish out of water. After studiously watching the dancers for a short while, she commented, "I've never watched Irish step dancing before, but it really is all in the feet and legs. And those costumes are beautiful."

The conversation then turned to the music, which strongly featured two instruments: the accordion and the violin. It was around the latter that the two ladies in my midst got into a friendly discussion.

Since my accident, the positive change in the interaction between Inez and Eileen had been startling. I hadn't realized how much Eileen needed an older sister figure in her life, and Inez had assumed that role seamlessly and to perfection. Gone were any traces of resentment, and the feud (which had been pretty much one-sided, anyhow) was a distant memory.

A serendipitous benefit had actually resulted from my being conked on the head with a bat.

"The violin is such a lovely instrument," Inez commented. "If I could pick another instrument to learn, that would be it."

"I've had the same thought, lots of times," replied Eileen.

Inez suddenly flashed a grin at my sister. "So, go for it! Why don't you get yourself a violin, and learn how to play it?" I smiled inwardly; here was one of those gentle challenges that Inez had spoken of.

Eileen, momentarily flustered by that out-of-the-blue suggestion, had nothing to say, but my girlfriend had plenty more to offer.

"You want to be a music teacher, right? Learning another instrument would help you a lot. Why not sign up for a violin class at the university? Since you're majoring in music, it should count toward the major, right?"

By now, Eileen was warming up to the idea. "My course load this semester isn't too heavy. I could add Intro to Violin, or whatever it's called. I'll have to check the course catalog to see if it fits into my schedule, but if it does, I shouldn't have to drop another class to make room for it. As for the instrument itself, yeah, I should have enough money saved up. I can try to find a used one to start out with."

Both of them began buzzing excitedly about this little plan they'd cooked up, and the conversation continued on the drive home. I participated to an extent, but I found my mind wandering on occasion. There was another matter that was beginning to monopolize my thought process.

Tomorrow was, after all, my first day of work at my new job ... in this timeline, at least.

August 26, 1985

This commute sucks, I told myself the next morning. I can't wait to move into my new place.

It was a quarter till eight on Monday morning; I'd exited from the turnpike, and was just now pulling into the parking lot. The drive from New Brunswick to my workplace, which I figured would take about a half hour, had actually been closer to fifty minutes in duration. It was a good thing I'd gotten off to an early start. The culprit had been heavy traffic complicated by road construction delays. This construction was expected to last for a few months, so there was no relief to be expected in the short term.

I'd found a two-bedroom apartment which met my prerequisites, and had signed a one-year lease. It was in a quiet area, as I'd wished, and it was about a five-minute drive from work. In the other timeline, I'd moved into a similar type of apartment upon starting this job. However, this was another life, filled with different interests and pursuits, and I simply desired a different locale in which to hang my hat. Staying in the same complex as before was not an option. I knew that I'd be able to pick up the key to the place on the first of September, but I also knew that we'd be busy on that day with our next-to-last gig. I wasn't about to wait until the following weekend to move in, however, so I was trying to make arrangements to schedule the move on a weekday evening. I was sure that Dennis wouldn't mind if I temporarily left a few things behind, in the event I couldn't do it all at once.

My first day on the job was about as typical as it gets. I filled out a bunch of paperwork, was given my building pass, and was shown to my office. As a new employee on the bottom rung of the company ladder, my office was tiny, and located in the interior of the building, with no window to the outside. I had a lengthy one-on-one meeting with John Wickersham, my supervisor, who explained to me that the first two weeks would be on-the-job training. After that, they planned to throw me to the wolves. Of course, I knew that beforehand, and I also knew that I was quite equipped to handle it. I'd have a strict forty-hour work week during the training period. However, I was well aware that would change afterward, with twelve-hour work days (and often more) becoming the norm. This is just the first step of a new journey, I reminded myself.