At Thanksgiving, I went to my parents for Turkey dinner. This was my first occasion in the house since June 6th. I remember my mother chastising me about putting a utensil in the wrong place. “You don’t live here anymore” she reminded me. Ouch.
In December I turned nineteen and my roommates threw a party for me. I wasn’t sure why nor did I want a party. The only people I cared to see were Ian, Terese and Dave. Others came – lured by the idea of a No Bev party – including Quinn and Heidi. I didn’t care for Heidi. She was pretty, apple-cheeked with dirty blonde hair and tortoise shell glasses that she seemed to wear only for show. A rich groupie. She had begun as a Mangos’ fan and was morphing into a constant fixture at Colors gigs. She was always sticking her tongue out in a way that was provocative and off-putting. Plus, she would only hang out with guys. Since her acquaintance with Tracy (who disappeared within weeks of Scott’s demise) she seemed uncomfortable or unfriendly toward women. I couldn’t figure out why she was at my birthday party, or why half of the people who came were there. I suspected that Heidi had a thing for Patrick and she’d assumed he’d be at the party. He was not. But I guess the lure of a “No Bev” party was enough for most people. After a couple hours standing around awkwardly at my own damn birthday party, I waltzed into my bedroom and closed the door. Waited to see who would actually notice the guest of honor was AWOL. Terese and -- surprisingly -- Nancy were the only ones that popped in.
At Christmastime Nancy astounded us all with the announcement that she would not be resuming her education in Dental Hygiene (after three and a half years) but planned to switch curriculum to explore Russian Studies/Literature. The tedium of labs, I believe, were her reason given.
At New Year’s Jen and Nancy decided to throw a party. I remember Katy coming by around mid-December and warning me that “New Years is the biggest hook-up party” and that usually, everyone got lucky. That’s when I divulged to her, in brief, what happened with Patrick. “Oh, I knew about that!” she exclaimed. “How?” I asked. “Patrick told me.” I was surprised -- I somehow thought he was embarrassed by what had transpired between us. We had spent some evenings together that fall (making out, in fact, a couple times) but he since had not made any advances in my direction.
Thinking that her party advice was fortuitous, I bought myself a delicious black velvet halter dress, so that I would look amazing. Hey, if not Patrick, then perhaps someone else would kiss me at midnight? Jen and Nancy went all out for New Year’s as well. Jen bought an ivory tulle ballerina dress at Value Village and had satin heels dyed to match. She looked like a fairy princess.
New Year’s party turned into a big damn letdown. While Katy did indeed hook up with (and subsequently begin dating) Quinn, the closest the rest of us got to action was Charlie from The Colors drinking champagne out of one of Jen’s shoes. The two of them had been flirting recently. Me? I was just a lonely partier in a fucking pretty dress.
New Dreams…
I continued to attend Colors shows that January and February, but didn’t go as often to practice. Frankly, I needed the sleep. The band was ready to release their second LP, Malos Colores (or Bad Colors). I loved the songs on the record and had watched nearly all of them written from the beginning (with the exception of “Love Gone Sour” and “Buried Alive” – both written while Scott was still alive). I had spent many evenings that past fall at Colors practice, driving over with Dave to the storage space. My friendship with Dave was blossoming and I felt I could confide in him. He had recently spent time casually with Elizabeth (Laura’s sister) but he insinuated to me that she was perhaps too attractive to really be into him.
Dave not only took Scott’s position as bassist for The Colors, but also took the part-time job at Dalton Books vacated by Scott and even inherited a black jean jacket of Scott’s that reinforced the light-hearted ribbing he got from his bandmates about replicating his predecessor. There was no one who could truly replace Scott -- he was one-of-a-kind. But there was also nobody like Dave.
Dan didn’t talk much about Scott. Later rumors hinted that he spent his birthdays at Scott’s grave. (Scott, ever the rebel bad boy, managed to find his eternal resting spot adjoining a headstone engraved with the surname Flick. FLICK. F – LI – CK ... Yeah, you got it.) Dan and his girlfriend Lisa were off and on that winter, breaking up permanently before spring. Dan and Nancy had hooked up at some point as well that winter, but only casually. She was busy with her Russian studies and he was distracted with the band. Dan was such a wild card. We often called him “Dan the Man” in reverence, but he could be headstrong, argumentative and just weird. Once, that winter, outside the storage space, he pulled from his pocket what looked like a tampon applicator and sniffed it.
Jen had it pretty bad for Charlie. Poor Jen and her unavailable men. Charlie, like Tony, was dating someone seriously (a lady that none of us had met). Charlie was doing well in law school, getting ready to graduate that spring and preparing for the bar. He once told me he wanted to get involved with politics. “It’s easy -- you run for, like, Water Board Commissioner to start with and work your way up from there.”
Patrick stood at an average height with what I used to refer to as the build of a “drugdealer” -- slender, hairless, pale. His brown hair was dyed black and slightly wavy. He had cornflower-blue eyes with a soft, watery quality to them. He had one strange physical anomaly -- one rib attached over the sternum rather than under. You could only tell by placing your fingertips over the spot. Patrick had full, lush lips and smoked Players Menthol cigarettes. He lived with his parents and a twenty year old cat a couple suburbs away. I would hear Thomasina yowling in the distance whenever we spoke on the phone.
Patrick had a tender side to him and was an extremely affectionate person. He could also be derisive. I wasn’t confident enough to blurt out my feelings for him, but if he had ever really asked I would have answered honestly. By contrast, he ran so dang hot and cold on me. When he was interested, his affections were sweet and clear and pulled at my heartstrings. When he wasn’t, he could be caustic or distant. I felt he was embarrassed to date me.
I had been mercilessly teased about my “crush” on Patrick and thus there were very few people I could actually share my thoughts with. Dave was an endless source of support, kindness and levity. Terese was my closest friend and listened with a sympathetic ear, giving advice when she could. Beth also knew of my feelings for Patrick that fall and told me she hoped he would come around. I still saw Heidi at Colors shows and my gut told me that she was into him. I couldn’t help feeling jealous. There were always so many girls around and, by contrast, I felt unattractive and insecure.
The Damned released a new album that fall, Anything, and we were hopeful that they would perform locally. But Detroit didn’t make the cut this go-around. Instead, we got Doctor and the Medics -- a Damned-produced band whose cover of Norman Greenbaum’s “Spirit in the Sky” had been all over the airwaves in late 1986.
Nancy, Jen and Beth went to the Doctor and the Medics’ concert. Fronted by an androgynous London DJ and backed by a duo of former synchronized swimmers (they remind me of the creepy girl from “The Ring”). I didn’t care for them and declined to attend the show. My housemates met up with others downtown, including Patrick. After the show, they all came back to No Bev. While we three residents of No Bev settled in for sleep, Beth fucked Patrick on the living room couch. Loudly. I only saw Beth once or twice after that.
During recording sessions for Malos Colores, Patrick had the bright idea to smack someone’s ass in time to the snare drum on “Love Gone Sour.” He volunteered me several times, but I declined. I was starting to accept that things probably wouldn’t work out for us and continued to avoid practice. I did go to one recording session and when the album was released that spring I was enthused and elated for my friends. The record scouts weren’t hanging around anymore, but hopes were still high of interest in a larger release for the record.
The Generals had their first gig in Ann
Arbor that January. I went with Jen, Sandy, Nancy and Katy to the show. Nancy was pissed at Flip -- he was dating someone and she seemed hurt and jealous. Flip’s new girlfriend was petite, dark-haired and reminded me of Betty Boop. She was a doll – but they didn’t date long. Flip worked at a liquor store in Birmingham. We would go to him whenever we rented a keg. He was friendly to Nancy, but she was still very angry about their breakup the previous summer.
The Generals had the chance to open for The Descendents that March, but soon Ian quit the band. If memory serves, the split wasn’t acrimonious. The guys called Matt, formerly of Alien Nation, and he agreed to step in as their drummer.
Matt from the Generals and Patrick from The Colors both criticized one another’s drumming styles. Patrick played with the thickest drumsticks in an aggressive, hard rock style. Matt’s style was slightly lighter, more jazzy. But they were both rock drummers.
Often you’d go to see a band -- the headliner -- and wind up disappointed in them but crazy about the previously-unknown opening act. Violent Femmes in ‘85? A bust -- but their opening act was Hoodoo Gurus and they killed it. Remember a British quartet called The Godfathers? Didn’t think so. Their 1987 one-hit-wonder “Birth School Work Death” brought my roommates and I out to St. Andrews, only to be awed and inspired by opening act, Canadian alt-rockers The Nils.
In late-February, at a rare night for me at Colors practice, Curtis brought along a couple of chicks. Deanne and Michèle were both seventeen. Deanne had dated Curtis previously. Both girls were tall and pretty. Deanne had dark brown hair, brown eyes and a quick laugh. Michèle had long strawberry-blonde hair with bangs and hazel eyes. (Today, I would say she looks strikingly like actress Bryce Dallas Howard). Nancy and I both suspiciously eyed these two statuesque high-schoolers up and down. Later, while the band practiced, I caught the two girls conversing with one another in sign language! What the fuck?! Clearly they were talking about us! Nancy and I looked at one another with narrowed eyes. Oh, we were not pleased.
A few weeks later, Deanne and Michèle attended a Colors show at the Blind Pig and soon began hanging around frequently. I was convinced that Michèle had a thing for Patrick and sure enough, one night, the two stopped by No Bev on their way out together. Later, I learned this had been a single date, and according to him was a bit of a dud, but my hackles were certainly up. I couldn’t figure Patrick out. Why had he seemed so interested in me the previous August, and now loved to tease me in front of my friends? Did he like me? Or not? Was he attracted to me – or just playing games?
Then, suddenly, we hooked up a few times that spring. I remember going down to St Andrews for a show with him. Driving around in his station wagon, sitting so close I was nearly in his lap. We would make out, flirt, tease and then drift apart with me always wanting more. Wanting more, and scared to show my intentions or demand them.
I felt like I was coming into my looks during this time. My wavy auburn hair was worn in a long bob with bangs. Teased and lush, I felt my hair and my eyes were my best features. I weighed about 115 pounds and was fair, with freckles. I wore a small D-cup from the age of fourteen, but I hated my boobs. My curves often attracted an uncomfortable sexualization. I wasn’t confident about my looks, but I thought I made do okay. I could, at least, dress cute.
I met a guy that winter -- a friend of Quinn’s. Quinn had moved downtown and I met Kelley, an easy-going guy, at a party of Quinn’s. Kelley and I chatted for a couple hours. Laura gave Kelley and his roommate a ride home later that evening and she filled me in on all the questions he asked about me. Kelly and I had a couple casual dates -- including seeing “Sid and Nancy” in the theatre – but the flirtation fizzled out. I would run into him now and again at concerts. He always seemed excited to see me but didn’t ask me out again.
That February I received a call from my old friend Andy. Andy was attending Antioch College in Yellow Springs, Ohio. “Hey Lisa, the new U2 album is coming out soon!” he had called to share. Excited, I heard their new single “With Or Without You” on the radio a week later, scribbled down the lyrics and called him to recite them. When I read the second line he quipped, “See the thorn twist in your thighs?”
Andy decided to drop out of school and returned to Detroit a few weeks later. The Joshua Tree album was released during the interim and I rushed out to buy a copy. I played the album ad nauseum and even my roommates seemed to enjoy the album (they weren’t U2 fans). Shockingly, Dan (guitar hero, audio guitar snob) deemed “Bullet the Blue Sky” the best tune he’d heard in years.
Andy introduced me to his girlfriend Sarah and the acquaintances they shared. Sarah was a plain-faced but lovable brunette just younger than me. She was neighbors with Brad and his sister Amy. Brad was bipolar and at times vaguely disturbing, but harmless. Through Andy I also met Felicia, a social worker with brown Botticelli curls and a matter-of-fact demeanor. I remembered Felicia from a year earlier, at a Lone Justice concert. There was a girl, after the show, hysterically crying out by the tour bus and being consoled by Maria McKee. I later learned that this was Felicia. She had since become quite good friends with the fair-haired cowpunk singer.
That spring, U2 announced summer dates at the Pontiac Silverdome. Sarah and I went together to camp after hours for tickets. We had an easy, enjoyable night getting to know one another better and chatting with our fellow ticket-hopefuls around us.
Late spring, Nancy played back a voice message at No Bev from Michèle requesting that one of us call her back. Nancy confided that she had no intention of calling the girl. “She probably wants to move in here or something” she snorted. Both Deanne and Michèle were now hanging out frequently with The Colors and none of us were particularly interested in getting to know them better. We viewed them as competition. Dave mentioned to me that they were both very nice, but I had my doubts. I certainly didn’t intend to invite them into my life. Lots of women tried to buddy up with us in hopes of getting to know our boys better. Why make it easier for them?
In May I was invited out to Pontiac for a bonfire party some of Andy’s circle were throwing. During the evening, someone suggested that we all gather around the fire, take hands and say something kind about each person there. I carry the words from that night with me still, in particular what Andy told me.
“When we were seventeen you told me your favorite U2 song was ‘Shadows and Tall Trees’. Well” he said, his face glowing by firelight as he quoted the lyrics. “If life ever feels like a tightrope, just remember how worthwhile and redeeming I’ve always thought you were.”
It couldn’t have come at a more significant moment. I was worthwhile and if those I happened to room with didn’t value me there were others who did. Like Terese, David and Andy. That’s not to say there weren’t others who liked me and enjoyed my company. But I had felt like an outcast and a fool since the past August. I was gossiped about, no doubt about that. I once pulled a piece of scratch paper out of Patti’s notebook during a visit she made to No Bev with a friend and found scribbled there, “Is Lisa the roommate that they want to get rid of?” scribbled on an adjoining page. I felt that at any given moment I might be asked to leave. I felt I was still considered an embarrassment to my roommates.
That spring and summer I pulled away from Nancy, Jen, and all of Gravity and started to spend more time with Andy and his circle, as well as a few people I met at work. While I wasn’t supremely close with these people, they were honest and supportive and my other friends, frankly, weren’t. I cared about Jen and Nancy and the others, but felt that they in return had little respect or regard for me. Their disrespect hurt -- I had to live with them after all -- but I focused on the upcoming U2 tour and my new companions and opportunities.
I deliberately avoided The Colors. I stopped going to practice and even missed a couple local shows. I was vaguely disturbed by a rumor I heard that The Colors snuck into my bedroom and read my journals. I don’t know if the rumor was true nor did I ever ask any of them. At the start of summer I took my
notebooks out to the back driveway, poured lighter fluid on them and burned them up. The idea of my very thoughts being yet another source of amusement to those who talked trash about me filled me with rage. I felt this was healthier than the shutting down and self-mutiliation of the previous fall.
Andy had pestered me about my writing since his return from college. At the moment the only thing I kept faithfully was my journal. But with his encouragement, we worked together a few times, writing and brainstorming. Then, we decided to set up a special event for the night before the U2 concert. We booked a Baptist Church nearby and arranged a poetry reading/fellowship meeting. The event wasn’t overtly Christian in tone, but rather a chance to celebrate with friends and inspire one another with words and music. We each invited a dozen or so people. Poets, artists, musicians. I mentioned my plans to my roommates, but more to let them know where I’d be than to actually extend the invitation to them. I assumed they would have little interest.
To my shock, The Colors came! I was gobsmacked that Patrick, Dave, Charlie and Dan drove out to see me and find out what the event was about. I realized a valuable lesson that night: the person who doesn’t pay you any attention might be the most interesting person in the room. I was still a No Bev girl, still attended concerts and parties, but I had conspicuously pulled back and my absence had been noticed. Moreover, Patrick was being super sweet and flattering again. Something about me would compel him back, time and time again. I just couldn’t control or predict it.
The Laws of Gravity Page 7