Second Best Fantasy (8 page)

I knew she meant because I had done something nostalgic with her, by taking her to Keyport.

“Do you see your family? Are they local?” I cleaned up, put leftovers away, and did the dishes. I could get used to her being in my home all the time.

“One brother lives in San Francisco now, so I try and see him when I’m out west. My other brother lives in Denver. My parents are still here, upstate in a beautiful house in the mountains, close to the Pennsylvania border. I am the only one that insisted on staying in the city. I talk with my brothers on the phone once in a while, the one in Denver has a family and I have 49

two nephews, but we don’t really know each other, he moved there with his wife for his job a long time ago. I’m closer to my brother out west, he’s a bit of a man-whore and still likes to party.

He went out there to go to school, then decided that wasn’t really for him but he loved Cali so much that he stayed.”

I waited for her to continue. “My mom and dad are…good, they’re good. I go up and visit occasionally. They don’t understand what I do, at all, but they know I’m happy doing it, and that makes them happy. I don’t think they will be happy about me being with a woman, but they’ll get over it. I’ve done much worse.” She smiled.

I could only imagine what the “much worse” was.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” she said, reading my mind again like she knew I was a little offended.

“They’re just old-fashioned.”

She got up from the table and crossed the floor to where I stood at the sink. Gently touching my face, she kissed me slowly, searching. She looked behind me at the clock on the wall. It was 8:00.

“Wanna go to bed early?”

* * * *

It was difficult for me to leave her in the morning, but I am very much a workaholic. I kissed her goodbye and asked her to lock up on her way out. I was distracted all day and felt like a teenager, smiling and giggling to myself. The night before, our lovemaking was heated and intense, lasting long into the night. It was not quite how it had been during the first quickie on the couch, and it was also not like it had been on the beach. I liked that it always seemed different. Since it seemed we had each un-vocally decided to keep seeing each other, there seemed a higher level of intimacy. When we first went to bed my hands were shaking when I touched her. I couldn’t remember the last time that happened, if ever. I also liked that she was like me, equally comfortable in the role of dominant or submissive, gentle or rough, demanding or acquiescent. It was as if we had known 50

each other’s bodies for years, I’d never had that kind of chemistry with anyone before. It was strange; sex seemed almost spiritual, euphoric in a way I couldn’t quite describe. The sex, the relationship, it was all new but it seemed to be going so well, I was actually shocked. It was…bliss.

My bliss abruptly ended that evening. I got home, set out all the bread, sauce, and toppings, waiting for her to appear as she had the day before. When she hadn’t shown at my apartment by 9 PM, I ran out of patience and called her. No answer. I got angry, unpredictable was one thing; it was cute, even alluring. But unreliable was not. I called Cindy, who only said to me, “Well, you’re powerless over her, aren’t you? Getting mad about it won’t change that.”

I did some quiet meditation and had a nice glass of scotch. Although tempted to have many more glasses, I took some Melatonin and went to bed. At 3:00 AM my phone rang.

With a sinking feeling I answered.

“Hello?”

“
Anything worth having is worth suffering for, isn’t it
?” I recognized her voice first and the line from
Days of Wine and Roses
second. Jesus. She’s waking me up at 3 AM loaded and still she quotes movies.

“Janine. It’s 3 AM. What happened to you?” I had gone to bed angry, but the moment I heard her voice it all went away. I didn’t like that, not one bit, it gave her a lot of control without my permission.

“Baby doll, I’m soooo sorry! Some friends showed up, and I went out for a while, and one thing led to another, and, well, I guess I’m still out. I’m pretty drunk.”

Duh. “And it didn’t occur to you to call until now?” I hated how that sounded, chiding and shaming.

“The night got away from me. I’m really drunk. And really high.”

“You said that already.”

“Can I take a cab and come to you? I need you.”

And there it was. It didn’t matter what time it was or what she’d done, my desire to be near her canceled everything. I 51

knew this was bad. I knew I would let her walk all over me. But what if she didn’t want to? I mean, this was a first offense, right?

Maybe she just made a mistake. And so the first brick in the foundation of my denial was cemented into place.

“Okay.”

When the cab rolled up in front of my apartment I had to help her out of it, and I had to pay the driver. I carried her up the stairs, kicked the door closed behind me, and gently put her down on my couch.

“What am I going to do with you, kiddo?”

“Is there any pizza left?” she asked.

“You know, I held out hope you would still show up until like ten. Stupid, foolish, I guess.”

She kissed me in response. Then she pulled away and started to cry. “I was afraid,” she said.

“Afraid of what?”

“How I feel. I remembered we had plans, Maggie; I blew you off on purpose. Then I went out with my friends to try to forget you, but I couldn’t.”

“Why?”

“I told you. I’m afraid. I don’t know if I’ve ever been in love, Maggie. But I know I’ve thought I was. And it always goes bad.

Always. Like I’m just incapable or something. I always do this thing, I…I…”

“Self-sabotage?” I offered.

“Yeah. I guess you’d call it that. You scare the hell out of me.”

“You scare me too, but I keep showing up for this. Don’t you think I worry? Don’t you think I tried to forget you when you were in LA? I know where you’re career is going…you could have anyone you wanted. That frightens me. But when I see you I forget all that. I can’t help it Janine, I want to be with you. I don’t know how to do this either, I never have. I’m a self-sabotager myself. I’m mostly a garden variety drunk who got lucky with a great job and a cool place to live, but I really am just very lost most of the time.”

I got quiet for a moment. “Are you even going to remember this conversation tomorrow?”

52

She smiled. “The cab ride was sobering. It still amazes me we don’t hear about more cabby accidents and fatalities.”

“Honey. Listen to me. You are maybe the only woman I have been with where I haven’t been anyone but me from the very first night. You make me feel naked, and vulnerable, and crazy. I think maybe that’s what love is, I don’t know. The world is insane. What I want more than anything is to stand with you, holding your hand, beneath a sheltering sky, letting passion run its due course. Maybe we will be a disaster. But maybe not, anything is possible. I’m not much of a religious person, but I do think in spiritual terms sometimes, and it seems to me that this—

you, me, us—is, I don’t know how else to say it—meant to be, meant to happen. I feel like I have looked for you my whole life, even when I didn’t know I was searching. Like you…
just reached in, and put a string of lights around my heart.”
I’d been waiting for the right moment to get a
Desert Hearts
quote into my conversations with Janine.

“Best dyke movie ever,” she said. “But I’ve got a better one for this moment.
When Harry Met Sally
. ‘
When you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible
.’ I’m so sorry about tonight. Can you forgive me?”

“If you tell me we can try, that we can be honest with each other. Then yes.”

“Okay. Let’s do this. You get to be you and I get to be me, for better or worse.” She hugged me. “You’re not going to like me very much tomorrow.”

“You’re right.” I said. “But I will have forgiven you by mid-afternoon.”

“We have a show at CBGB’s in three weeks. Wil you come?”

My rock and roll girlfriend. Unbelievable. But this was happening. I had no idea what to expect, I was only glad in that moment she was there. I could look into her eyes, I could smell her perfume, she was, just then, undeniably
mine
. Maybe what I had said was true, I had been looking for her my whole life. I just knew I was willing to try, no matter what, I was willing to try and make this work.

53

I dragged Cindy out of the house in the middle of her 70-hour work week to go to CBGBs with me. We got there early and sat at the bar, listening to a newly formed punk band founded in Bayonne, New Jersey. They were good, but it was obvious they were trying too hard to be The Sex Pistols. This is why most bands fail; they can’t create something new and original. It can be argued, of course, that all bands have influences and “it’s all been done before.” But if you wanted to sign and produce, you had to have something special. The Blue Is had Janine. Special indeed.

When the second band, another, slightly improved punk-pop trio, was clearing their equipment, my girlfriend came bouncing up to the bar behind me and Cindy. “I’m so glad you’re here!” She threw her arms around me and kissed me, I melted as usual. I was so attracted to her it often frightened me, and it seemed to be getting stronger, which was worrisome since I didn’t know if it worked both ways. She ordered a Dewar’s and perched on the barstool next to Cindy.

“It’s nice to finally meet you; Maggie has told me so much about you.”

Cindy took her hand and kissed it. “I wish I could say the same, but Maggie has been keeping you under wraps, she says very little.” She winked at me.

I had told her very little, but not because I was keeping anything to myself, it was because I knew I didn’t have to. Cindy had been reading me like a book for many years and there was rarely an explanation or clarification needed. Janine and I had seen each other as often as we could after the night she drunk-dialed me and came over. As predicted, I had forgiven her by midday, probably by mid-morning.

She spent most of her time rehearsing with the band and writing, and if not those two things she was with me most of the time. I hadn’t “dated” in so long I’d almost forgotten what it was like, getting dressed, checking yourself out in the mirror, carrying breath freshener in your pocket. My dates with Janine included sitting in on some rehearsals, meeting the other members of the 54

band and their significant others, and the occasional dinner and a movie. There were no recurrences of her behavior the night she blew me off, at least not yet. I had gained equal access to her home as much as my own, it all felt uncomfortably normal.

The three of us chatted for a short time, then she had to go do what musicians do: set up equipment, sound check, go talk to herself in the dressing room…in truth, I didn’t exactly know. When the lights went down, we moved to a table closer to the stage. Cindy leaned across the table and patted my hand,

“Let’s see what she’s got. I want to see what pushed you so head over heels.”

Watching her on the stage was exciting, inspiring, erotic, heartbreaking, all at the same time. It reminded me of when I used to hang out in strip clubs and I had a large circle of friends who did it for a living. Once I knew them well enough, I could see distinct differences in their stripper personas and their true personalities, it was fascinating. I knew when Janine was playing to the audience, seducing them, “prowling the stage” as had been said of The Pretenders’ Chrissie Hynde. She dominated them, I watched the crowd watch her, mesmerized, awed at her passion. I knew from other singers I’d met that the band can’t really see anyone beyond the second or third row because of the stage lights. I also knew that meant Janine could see me, and I loved it. A few times she looked right at me, sang to me, seduced me.

Most of the songs I recognized, they were all from the same album that contained “Too Much Trouble,” which I was certain would be the closing number.

Original or not, all concerts still adhered to a certain pattern, it’s just an unwritten rule: if you have a hit, you play it last. If you have several, you scatter them throughout the show, saving the best-liked for last. Unless, of course, you were Van Morrison, who was quoted saying, “If you want to hear Brown-Eyed Girl, just go buy the record.”

About three quarters of the way through the show, the band huddled for a minute. Janine came back to the microphone and said, “We’re going to do a new one. We’re not actually sure 55

that we’re ready, but we’re gonna try!” The crowd went wild, it was 11 PM now and beginning to get crowded.

I looked across the table at Cindy, out of place with her fur coat and dry martini in the middle of CBGBs. She smiled at me and mouthed the words, “I see.” I wondered if Cindy was drunk, she never seemed to be. She probably drank one to my every three. She had never said anything about my alcohol intake, but I knew she knew, and I knew she would if it started to affect me in irreversible ways. So far, it hadn’t. But we both knew I drank increasingly in the past ten years, and I was no longer a binge drinker. I panicked when alcohol ran low in my house, and I’d begun to keep an eye on the supply at Janine’s. Of course, I spoke not one word of this to anyone.

The set went dark save a single spotlight on Janine. The song began with a soft symbol riff, shortly followed by a heavy, melodic rhythm that could only come from an upright bass. The whole place grew eerily silent as Janine began,

“
Don’t tell me…don’t tell me she’s gone…gone away, she shared that bed you made…lying safe with you…
” and just a few bars later,

“
Take all your fears and crying off the wire…and set it all on fire…
” and I knew I recognized it. That sheaf of cocktail napkins in the very first package she sent me from LA. She had never gotten around to asking me to finish it as she had threatened, but had apparently revisited it, worked on it, and perfected it all on her own without ever mentioning it.