Punk and Zen

by JD Glass

  Cap swung the jeep over to the curb so quickly we almost tipped. He set the car in park and twisted in his seat toward me. “Nina, what happened?” he asked me, his voice full of concern. “Is it Trace? She get a little too, ah, nuts with you?”

  I faced the window, took a breath and then another as I got swamped between waves of memory—this morning and Van’s eyes and the very visceral memory of my Samantha, my Sammy Blade. I missed her so much my blood flayed me within as it flowed and all my brain was able to form was her image and Van’s expression, and they were twisting together over and over and making me nauseous.

  But it wasn’t just that or them—thinking of Samantha made me think of all the other friends I’d had, friends I hadn’t seen in years. Fran, Francesca, whom we’d called “Kitt” on the swim team and her perfect smile, a really good friend, someone I’d even liked and spent a lot of time with outside of school. Laura and her flaming red hair, so determined, so fierce. Even my first girlfriend, Kerry, who’d been my best friend for a time. You’d think she’d have shown up at the Red Spot every now and again; after all, she’d introduced me to it.

  But I saw no one—except Nico when he was around and very occasionally our parents and little sister Nanny since I’d moved/been kicked out/run away—that perspective depended upon who you asked. But still, even with the buffering presence of my aunt and cousins, that was strained at ABC best. Everyone else was new to me in one way or another, and I always felt like I was struggling to catch up or something, because I just wasn’t where they were at.

  God, it sucked. After some unknown time, I was finally able to breathe through it, the nausea, the weird coldness that sucked at my skin and left my chest hollow. I tore my gaze from the window to answer him.

  “It’s not Trace, I mean, not right now, anyway,” I said finally as I faced him.

  Yeah, that was lame, but that was all I had—I couldn’t tell him about this morning, I mean, what the fuck, Trace went out and got laid, big deal, right? She had every right to, didn’t she? I should’ve either just played it off or stopped down later. Dammit, though, why should it have bothered me? How did I explain that? How could I explain it? Silence settled between us like the heavy humid air.

  “Why don’t you tell me about whoever it is, then?” Cap asked, his words cutting through the silence. “I can see that someone still means a lot to you and…Trace will never be it, and she knows it, too.”

  Floored, I stared at him wordlessly. Trace made me hurt, in ways I didn’t know I could, and I’d been through quite a bit already, but the ache Trace left in me was a ghost, a ghost of the yawning chasm Samantha’s absence had left within me. He was right—it would never be Trace, but it would never be Samantha, either. It had been years since I’d seen her, and even had I wanted to, I had no way of even knowing where to start looking if I wanted to find her—or anyone else, for that matter.

  Who knew? Cap had taken me out to teach me how to handle a gun, and he’d given me the key I needed to break free. That…was the past, not the present. And not the future either, my brain told me mournfully, but I told that part to stop. It was way past time to get over it.

  I took a deep breath and considered before I answered. “Cap, Trace could’ve been it. We could’ve really had something, something really good, if she just didn’t—”

  “Attempt to seduce every living being in front of you?” he finished wryly. “You know she’s just playing the I Dare You game, don’t you?”

  “Huh?” Did he know what had happened this morning? If he didn’t, I wasn’t going to tell him. I fished my cigarettes and lighter out of my back pocket. If this conversation was going to continue in the direction that I thought it was, I was going to need nicotine.

  “Nina, come on. You show me yours, I’ll show you mine, that game?” he hinted.

  I thought he’d left his mind behind in the shooting range. Besides, it wasn’t as if Trace and I hadn’t seen each other naked. We’d taken showers together, for chrissake, and slept skin to skin half the time. Well, before now. That was never going to happen again.

  “Um, Cap? I’ve seen Trace naked.” I blushed as I said it, thinking of just how naked I’d seen her this morning. But otherwise, it wasn’t as if he didn’t know. Plenty of times he’d bounced into the bedroom and onto the bed, waking us both up and forcing one or both of us to cover ourselves or each other. Actually that kind of—no, wait. It did piss me off. But now wasn’t the time to discuss it.

  Cap snorted. “Yeah, I don’t mean that. I’m talking about feelings—show yours first, then she’ll show hers.”

  I exhaled slowly and let the smoke drift away. I’d been on the right track, then. It really was about mutual surrender, and one concession on mine would have meant one on hers. But I wasn’t comfortable with that scenario. Why did it have to be this whole dramatic submission thing? I voiced that part to Cap.

  He grabbed a cigarette of his own and lit it. “Why did you turn her down, kid?” He exhaled. “You had no problem with that chicky you’d just met—the one up in the DJ booth.”

  What was this about? Did he and Jackie and Trace get together to discuss my affairs, or had the story merely made the rounds? Or was I just currently their only topic of conversation? Either way, I wasn’t happy about it.

  “Hey, look,” I began, defensively. I mean, none of this seemed fair, you know? “First off, Trace sent her in there. Second of all, it’s nobody’s fuckin’ business, and you know what? She didn’t play any fuckin’ games with me. She was honest about what she wanted, and I was feeling loose enough to go with it!” I retorted. What the fuck was up with these people? What, everyone’s allowed to screw around but me? Oh, hell, they probably all got together when I wasn’t around to laugh about me.

  Cap’s eyes narrowed. “I’ll bet you didn’t let her touch you, though, did you?”

  My cigarette burned unheeded as I stared at him in shock. “What the hell did you just say?” I finally blurted out.

  Slowly and methodically, Cap ground out the end of his cigarette into the ashtray until the unburned tobacco fell out in shreds. “I said,” he began very slowly and evenly, “you don’t let anyone touch you.”

  I shook my head from side to side in disbelief. “I can’t”—I waved my hands before me in negation—“this is just…” I didn’t know what to say. I flicked that dead cigarette far out into the street, then ran my hands through my hair, making it stand up higher.

  That was it. Enough was enough. I’d had it, and this conversation was over. I unsnapped my seat belt and hopped out of the jeep. “I’ll meet you back at the apartment. Thanks for the lesson,” I told Cap as I closed the door and started walking. Oh, hell, it was only about a mile back to the apartment. I ran more than that, so this wasn’t really a big deal.

  I stared blindly at the sidewalk as I mechanically moved my feet. God, ABC how unfucking-believable, though. What made him even think of saying that? True or not, that was beside the point. What gave him or anyone else the right to discuss whether or not I allowed anyone to touch me? My body. Period, end. There should be no discussion; at least, that’s how I saw it.

  Cap and his jeep pulled up alongside me. “Get in the jeep, Nina. This is a bad neighborhood. You don’t want to walk through here.”

  “Yeah, well, I know how to handle a gun now. I’ll be fine,” I shot back at him with a glare. I stopped and quickly lit a cigarette, then kept going. Cap paced me with his jeep.

  We traveled that way for a few moments, me walking, him trailing me with the jeep, until finally I stopped and faced him. Cap cut the motor.

  “Why do you care?” I asked him across the space between us. “What does it matter, anyway? It’s my body, and I decide, not you, not anyone else, what I want and don’t want on it, in it, or around it.”

  I placed a hand on a hip and waited for his answer while Cap stared down into the passenger seat. No answer came.

  “Exactly,” I muttered. I waved my hand in disgust at the whole
exchange, as if that could erase it. His comment and following silence left me angry and gave me added motivation as I stalked off back toward the apartment.

  I heard the roar of the jeep as Cap started it up again, and seconds later, Cap caught up with me.

  “Nina,” he called, “come on. You have to trust somebody, sometime. Please, just get in.”

  I walked a few more steps and considered. Maybe he had a point, maybe I had to change something. I already knew that I needed something different; maybe this could be the start.

  “Okay,” I said finally, and went back toward the jeep. I put my hand on the latch. “But,” I cautioned, “I won’t discuss my sex life with you. It’s nobody’s business except mine, and it wasn’t necessary for you to say that, either.”

  Cap listened, then nodded. “Fair enough. I should have put that differently, and I won’t ask for details, except when I need some pointers.”

  I let go of the door and was about to step back, when Cap threw a hand up. “I’m just joking, just joking. Come on, let’s go home.”

  I finally opened the door and climbed in. Once I settled in my seat and snapped on the seat belt, Cap pulled forward.

  “Nina, I’m just trying to let you know that you’re not the only one hurting. Trace hurts over it, too. I mean, ABC she kind of put herself out there for you, and you turned her down. And it’s not like you don’t want her or anything.”

  I rolled my eyes and shook my head. “You know what, Cap? She didn’t offer. She tried to—never mind, just fucking forget it.” I sighed.

  “Look,” I tried again as the scenery rolled by, “do you really want to give your heart to someone who’s fucking everyone in sight? Ever think for a second that’s what everyone else does? Fuck her, then forget her?”

  I paused, then continued. “Yeah, so she comes on to all of them—and of course they respond. Who wouldn’t? I don’t want to be one of those, I don’t want to hurt her, and,” I took a breath, “I’m not going to be another fuckin’ notch for her, either.”

  We rounded the corner of our block, and Cap pulled into a space across the street. He unsnapped his safety belt and lit a new cigarette. “Take one,” he offered.

  “I’ve got, thanks.” I took one of my own out, but didn’t light it. It was just something to hold on to for the moment. Cap smoked quietly, and I sat there with him while we both considered what we’d been talking about.

  I cut through the silence. “Don’t you think if someone was really into you they wouldn’t go after anyone else, especially in front of you, want you to watch, wouldn’t play with you like that?”

  “Nina, what about you? You did that girl. You didn’t seem to have a problem with that. And if it’s just sex, then why don’t you just go for it?” Cap look genuinely puzzled as he spoke. “Besides, what the hell is it going to hurt? I mean, it’s not like you have to worry about getting pregnant or anything.” He smirked the last part at me.

  “You just don’t get it, do you?” I countered, exasperated. “It’s not just about sex. Okay, yeah, with Candace at that time, it was sex, but for chrissake, I was fucking drunk. Give me a break. And it was honest, at least. I didn’t have to lie to her or pretend shit or try to, to break her will or anything. Dammit, leave me alone already. If I pull out the phone book, you guys have fucked half of it.”

  I lit that cigarette and took a deep drag. “Just because I don’t have to worry about getting fucking pregnant doesn’t mean there aren’t any fucking rules,” I told him, “at least for me. Yeah, I fucked Candace, okay? I fucked her because she was there, and she wanted me to, and Trace dared me to, and you know what? I never do that, never just pick someone up. I actually go out on dates first. So what, I enjoyed it, enjoyed her, so sometimes if we get a chance we hang out and talk or something, because I like her. She was totally up front, she hasn’t stopped being that way, and I like honesty. That’s the way to get me, okay?”

  “Whoa, girl.” Cap held up his hands. “You’re preaching to the choir about just enjoying it, and that’s what I’m saying. You should just stop being so damned guarded all the time, let someone in, ya know?” He paused and took a drag on his butt. “Once you and Trace…you know…” and he exhaled, “things’ll probably calm right down.” His tone was reassuring, but ABC his words proved he didn’t understand me at all. Maybe I wasn’t saying it right. I thought I was.

  I blew out a frustrated breath. “No,” I told him flatly. “It’s never going to happen, don’t you get it? I want it for real. I really, truly love, um, care about her, understand? As long as I’m not involved with anyone, I’m a free agent, but believe me—and it has nothing to do with my own past—if I had an honest-to-goodness real clue that she could even partially be what I need, I wouldn’t ever, ever, fuck around, not with anyone.”

  I took a drag on my butt and blew it out. “Candace would never have happened,” I continued, “but I’m not gonna fucking waste my time. Do you get me yet? Someone, someday, is going to be there for me, and I wish, I would love it to be Trace, but if it’s not, well, why I should I pretend? Why should I let her pretend to me? Oh, hell.” I threw my hands up in confusion and frustration, then undid my seat belt. “Just forget it, man. I’m going inside.”

  I didn’t even know what I was trying to say anymore, and I was tired of trying to understand myself. “I’ve got to practice, I’ve got a rehearsal-audition today,” I told him as I opened the door and slid out of the car.

  Cap undid his belt and got out, double-checking to make sure the alarm was set. “Hey, you’ve got your own room now, have fun.” He smiled at me as he strode to the steps.

  We climbed up together in silence, and I tried to clear my mind. I really did have to get myself together. I was hooking up with some people I’d met at the bar a couple of nights before: Stephie and Jeremy. They liked my style, they liked the tunes I spun, and they liked me. We’d see what would happen, if we clicked musically. There was no drummer yet, but we’d work that out, if the first couple of rehearsals gelled in the way I thought they would.

  “Nina, you really are a virgin, aren’t you?” Cap broke into my thoughts as we approached our door.

  I rolled my eyes. “Can we just leave that alone?” I asked, exasperated. I keyed the lock and let us both in, then went right to my closet to get my guitar.

  “Yup, thought so,” he said mostly to himself. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that,” he added hastily. “Just that it sorta makes sense of everything else.”

  I faced him, hands on my hips. “You know, just because I don’t let just anyone who wants to fuck actually fuck me doesn’t mean I don’t know what sex is about or feels like,” I informed him. I’d had it with this heavy conversation. It was time, more than time, to add a little levity somewhere. “Besides,” I added with a grin, “have you ever had anyone do it better than you do it yourself?”

  Cap stared at me for a second, then started laughing. “No, I’ve never experienced that.”

  “Well, there you go, then,” I told him with a smile. “Maybe you’re a virgin too.”

  He guffawed. “That’d be the best line, Nina. I think I’m gonna use it.” He laughed again. “That’s just too good.”

  His mood was infectious, and it was such a relief to not feel like I was on the defensive, I joined in.

  “Feel free,” I offered, still grinning. “I figure I’ll probably marry the person who can make it feel that good.” I clapped a friendly hand on his shoulder, then went back to my guitar.

  “Nina.” Cap’s tone was serious, so I faced him again. Damn. I really needed to practice.

  “I never thought of it like that before. You know, if you can trust someone that much,” he said, obviously considering the thought, “you should.”

  I answered him with the seriousness he deserved. “I already figured that. I’m shooting straight for the heart,” I told him somberly, and with that, I went into my room to play guitar.

  ∗ ∗ ∗ ∗

 
Colder

  I have heard the story of the garden—

  The serpent came and took it all away

  I am always sorry in the morning

  But right now? Let me slide in—let me stay

  “I Fall”—Life Underwater

  ∗ ∗ ∗ ∗

  The audition-rehearsal went well—better than expected, in fact, because we’d left it with three brand-new songs and the beginnings of two more.

  I liked Stephie and Jeremy. Stephie, who was a little taller than me and had this lovely angular look, was smart and tough and carried a very artistic picture she’d taken of her boyfriend; she’d designed his Mohawk, and she’d done a nice job. She’d done her own hair, too. It shaded from blond at the top to red to black; it looked like a match tip, and the ends curled under her ears.

  Jeremy was the same height as Dee Dee and maybe a little darker, but that’s where the similarities ended. He was shaped like a large bear, albeit a large, bass-playing, monster rhythm bear, and he kept his hair clipped as closely to the skin as possible and said he only took his army flak jacket off to sleep—or when his mother wrestled it off him to wash it—whatever came first.

  Most importantly, though, we had ABC fun, we had chemistry, and we knew we could make music. We planned to get together again in another few days and start planning some schedules.

  I pulled my guitar out of the case, played a few licks, then put it back. I was restless and edgy. A lot had changed between the day before and now. I moved a few things into my new space, tried my guitar out in different areas.

  I didn’t know what was worse, trying not to remember Samantha at all, which was hard, because she’d given me my first few guitar lessons back when I’d just started playing, and now, boy did I play the shit out of it, or the image from the morning I couldn’t get out of my head. Trace and Van. Did she like it? Did she really like him? Why him, if he was going to be so smug about it? Did it matter? Did she care?