by U
made a mistake in going back to Mark.
"How many other women have you known who said that they were
wrong, that they made a mistake?" Nick asked.
I had to think hard about that one. From my mother to the nuns at
school to Meredith to Leanne to Marie to the other one, I could not
remember a single woman ever admitting that she wasn’t perfect, who
frankly said that she was capable of making a mistake.
They nearly always had explanations or rationalizations or
managed to somehow blame me when things went wrong. Even Jill
had only said that she changed her mind about me. I think her words
were that she "came around." None had ever said she was wrong or
made an apology, at least not that I could recall.
Except for Megan.
So Nick and I had a long conversation, sort of an argument, with
Nick taking Megan’s side. He said that my leaving town would hurt
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her badly. Instead, he said I should stick around to see how things
developed.
Nick is a big fan of Megan’s. Always has been. He said she didn’t
deserve to have me just up and boogie (his word) without a decent
explanation or the courtesy of a goodbye.
"So if I had showed up here five minutes later than I did, you’d
have been out the door? Just like that?" Nick asked.
I shrugged. "I’ve abandoned other places and other people on
shorter notice," I said. "So what?"
Nick laughed, amused as hell for some reason.
"You really are a character," he said. "Did you know that Eleanor’s
teacher friends all asked about you after the poetry reading? One by
one, they came up to Eleanor later and wanted to know if you were
going with Megan and if so, how serious was it?"
I said nothing.
"You know, having you around is like being around some movie
star," Nick went on. "You attract so many women your aura even
rubs off some on me. Sorta makes me feel like I’m sprinkled with
pixie dust too."
"I’m so pleased for you."
Nick laughed again. "That is so like you, Patrick. Truth is, I got a
lot of pleasure in making sure Eleanor told her friends that you are
already spoken for. It’s plain that you’re in love with Megan.
Eleanor says the female staff at the middle school is pretty darn
disappointed. Whatever it is you’ve got, they want it and they want it
bad."
"But I’ve got nothing," I said. "I’ve never had anything. I am a
loser and I’ve been one as long as I can remember. I’m not interested
in a relationship anymore. I know I am in love Megan but she has
betrayed me. What she did was the worst. Tell me why I shouldn’t
hold her to the same standards I have been held to? Can you tell me
that? Indecision is a negative decision as far as I am concerned.
She’s already up made her mind."
Nick gaped at me like I was out of my fucking goddamned mind.
He took a drag on his cigarette.
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"You are out of your fucking goddamned mind," he said. "You
can’t hold Megan to those standards because those are crazy
standards. They are the standards of a person who wants to be
unhappy, who is insisting on failure."
"Whaddaya mean?"
"Look, just because you let that other woman jerk your chain
doesn’t mean it has to stay jerked forever. She was the fool, my
friend, not you. She played you wrong and walked out on the best
there is, the cream of the crop. That is you, my friend. You have it
all. You’ve got brains, personality, good looks, and loads of ambition.
Even better, you seem capable of falling in love, actually in love, the
way women want to be loved. You know, with real passion, with
romance. Which is more than I can say for most guys, myself
probably included."
"That’s nice of you to say, but I’m not happy," I told him. "I’m not.
I never have been."
"That’s because you won’t let yourself be happy. Start with
Megan. Stop doing the same crappy stuff to her that’s been done to
you. Enough with the guilt trip, the hassles, the tragedy, the bullshit.
What a fucking waste of energy. Stop doing it. It’ll make a world of
difference, Patrick, I swear it will. You gotta be a little more open, a
little more forgiving. Stop always fighting the last war."
"Huh?"
"You’re going wrong just like that other woman, by refusing to
give Megan another chance. Yes, that’s it – I know I’m right. Simple
as that."
"I think this is different," I said.
"Oh, yeah? How so? That other woman you were so hot for
fucked with your head and showed you no respect by reading your
journal. Then she fucked some other guy and turned around and then
tried to make you feel guilty about it. She dumped you and never
gave you a second chance. The next thing you know she winds up
pregnant and blames you as the fucking jerk. Patrick, everything that
dame pulled on you was a con job and a mind fuck. From the
beginning, she never played you straight, not once."
266
"I’ve read someone else’s journal," I said.
"Your woman friend in Florida? So what? That isn’t the same
thing. You glanced at a couple of pages of her book and let it go.
You certainly didn’t try to use it against her, didn’t try to hurt her
feelings with it. And now that I’m on the subject," – Nick stubbed out
his cigarette, one of many in the astray – "let me say something about
that Florida woman – her name was Marie, wasn’t it?"
"Uh huh."
"She was by far the best thing you ever came across until you met
Megan. I can’t believe you let that babe slip through your fingers.
Man, what a knockout. Smart as a whip too, judging from her letters.
I really love that photo of her in a bikini you’ve got. Oh man,
incredible. Compared to Marie, that Polly Ellsworth dame was a
stick."
"You’ve read Marie’s letters?" I asked.
"Oh, sure. And all of your journals, too. I’ve read just about
everything you’ve got in that black trunk of yours upstairs," Nick said.
I was dumbfounded.
He fired up another cigarette. "Patrick, I’m an expert on you. In
my opinion, your novels, stories, and poems need a lot of work, but
your journal is wonderful. It’s really fun to read, once you get used to
your weird loopy handwriting."
It took me a full minute to recover from the shock of having my
privacy violated yet again. I could not believe my ears.
"Who said you could get into my stuff?" I said.
Nick shrugged. "Nobody. But you never expressly forbid it, either.
Besides, I get bored around here with you gone most of the day.
You’ve created a lot of great reading material. Wish I could write
stuff like you. I know you really dig the beat writers and Bukowski,
but you’ve got to start moving away from them. Be a little more
controlled. By the way, the lock on your trunk isn’t worth a damn. I
picked it with a bobby pin."
I suppose I should have been more angry about Nick’s invasion of<
br />
my privacy than I was. But the sad truth is, I am so used to being
267
trampled on by other people I hardly get upset about it anymore. Still,
I had to protest.
"You are fucking a snoop," I said. "You are no better than the other
one," I said. "Goddamnit."
"No, I am a lot better than her. I only poked into your stuff for
entertainment purposes. She read it to use it against you. She pulled
underhanded tricks to manipulate you. She was dirty. She kept
seeing her old boyfriend on the sly while demanding that you profess
your love to her. The woman had no integrity, Patrick. None. That
letter she wrote to you about her abortion was unbelievably cruel.
What sort of man do you suppose a woman like her will end up with?
Hmmm? What’s your guess?"
"I don’t know. Probably some chump," I said.
"That’s right. It will be some chump with a checkbook and nothing
else. Not that she’s going to get anything for free. I’m sure there will
always be a transaction. She even called him ‘parsimonious’ in a
letter herself, didn’t she?"
I said nothing. It was true.
Nick laughed a little before going on, adding:
"That’s great because that is what she deserves. For her, the
checkbook will always be the main attraction. She is the big loser.
I’ve been around you, man. When you are on, you are on. You are
smart and funny and hip and really care about people. When you are
here, everybody parties and has a good time. You are the life of the
party, Patrick. You are the fucking party. People dig you. Women
really dig you. Even people who don’t want to dig you end up
digging you. You are totally cool."
"Thanks, but I don’t see what it has to do with anything."
"See? See? There’s another part of your charm. I honestly don’t
think you understand how cool you are. You’ve got it all going for
you, dammit. Don’t be so blue. Megan loves you and she is yours for
the asking. And it is obvious you are in love with her. If you wanted
to hurt her back, you’ve done that but good. You’ve way overdone it,
in my opinion. She’s freaked. But there is no quarrel, my friend. It is
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over. You’ve won her heart. Don’t throw it away. Go with the
flow."
"Megan isn’t the only woman in the world," I said.
Nick wrinkled his nose, frowning.
"Okay, I just thought of something else," he said. "Remember
where you wrote in your diary that if you ever got angry or frustrated
with someone you loved you’d give them a second chance? Do you
remember? I think you wrote it right after your trip to see that other
dame in 1976. I thought it was such a great line. The perfectly
described lesson learned. But are you doing what you said you would
do? Doesn’t seem like it to me."
I hadn’t thought about writing that line for a long time. But Nick
was correct. I had written it. I clearly remembered putting it down.
"You’ve read that?"
Nick took a puff on his cigarette, nodding. "Yes, and you’ve got to
distinguish between a normal romantic shakeout and a mind fuck.
What the other one pulled was a mind fuck. With Megan, you’ve
experienced a normal romantic shakeout. There is a big difference.
Do you always want to be lonely and unhappy? Don’t you want to
win someday?"
I looked at Nick. I couldn’t think of anything to say. He was right
and I suddenly realized he was right.
Puffing on his cigarette, Nick laughed and gave me a look of smug
self-satisfaction. Older than me by five years and shorter by five
inches, Nick has bright green eyes, and curly brown hair, and the
impishness of a Leprechaun.
A sneaky little Leprechaun fuck.
All of a sudden I didn’t feel very much like leaving town anymore.
Nick was right. Dammit. I was deliberately making myself unhappy,
just like always. All the anger I felt towards Megan suddenly drained
out of me.
I felt foolish and ashamed of myself.
"What should I do now?" I asked.
"Make up with Megan. Tell her you’re sorry for being such an ass.
Tell her that you love her."
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"Right now?"
Nick thought about it for a moment. "Tell her tonight when she
comes over."
"What should I do in the meantime?"
"Unpack your shit. And then let’s stoned and drunk. Let’s get
really fucked up. Call the office. Tell them you need to take the rest
of the day off. Then we’ll get really wasted."
"Shouldn’t you be going back to work?"
"It’s nothing I can’t put off," Nick said.
I got on the phone and spoke to the boss. I told her I had a bad
burrito at lunch and wasn’t feeling so hot. The boss said she would
mark the calendar and pass the message to Megan.
Holy cow! For the rest of the afternoon I was now free as a bee!
Nick got his bong out of the closet and asked if I had any my special
African weed left.
"A couple of buds," I said.
"Ooooh yeah. A couple of buds. Perfect."
We got really stoned. Later Nick broke out his bottle of Chivas
Regal and started telling me about this Eurasian chick named Fianne
he fell in love with in Bangkok during the war. I only half listened, as
I had heard the story many times before. Fianne was both nicer and a
better fuck than Clarice, from what I have gathered.
The Chivas Regal hit me like a ton of bricks. Wham. I started
thinking about the years I spent at Jesus, Mary, and Joseph Catholic
School. What a fucking bum trip that was. Marching in lockstep.
Uniforms. Catholic bullshit. Taught to obey orders, no matter how
insane.
After a while, I saw tears running down Nick’s cheeks. The
inevitable climax to the Fianne story. I put aside my thoughts of
Catholic school as Nick went on a crying jag.
"I shoulda brought Fianne back home," he wailed. "I wanted to
take her with me but I figured that people would treat her like shit
back in Peoria."
"On account of her being half Siamese?" I said.
Nick nodded.
270
"They probably would have," I said.
Nick nodded again, paused, and then started shaking his head
slowly back and forth, like my old man used to do. "That’s why you
gotta get back together with Megan," he rasped. "It is such a tiny
thing and you stand to gain so much."
"Now why should I get back with Megan?" I asked, playing devil’s
advocate. I already had my mind made up but I wanted to hear it
anyway. "Explain it to me again," I said.
"Because you are the one that needs her, my friend. You need her
bad. Have you by any chance considered what you stand to gain at
this point? Have you ever thought seriously about it?"
"What do you mean?"
An amused gleam appeared in his boozy leprechaun eyes. I
thought he was drunk but maybe not, because that’s when he sprung
the clincher.
"If you patch it up with her now and put it all behind you, I figure
you’re probably in line for some of the best sex you’ve ever had, my
friend. There’s nothing like making up after a lover’s quarrel to get a
woman’s juices flowing. Works like a charm. Mark my words."
Of all the things Nick had said, that may not have had the most
immediate and powerful impact, but it was right up there. I mean
before, when we were doing it, I could sense Megan was still kind of
holding back. Kind of.
Maybe Nick was on to something here.
"So what if we do get back together? What then?"
Nick grinned. "Name the baby after me."
* * * *
March 19, 1979
Practically a whole lifetime has passed since I decided to stay in
town. Megan and I have made up and I think things will be okay from
here on out. We took some psilocybin mushrooms to celebrate our
reconciliation and really grooved together. When the mushrooms
were at their peak, Megan kissed me and said we must leave our
problems in the past and act as though we were meeting each other for
the very first time.
271
"Think of it this way," Megan said. "This is our own special life
from now on. It belongs to you and me alone. Everything that
happened before was an introduction. From this moment forward, we
are reborn."
"Yeah, I like that," I said. "We are reborn."
On the mushrooms, Megan acquired a deeply magnetic aura, tinged
ever so strangely golden. Her eyes stood out like saucers, shaded a
blue patina I think is aquamarine in color.
"I love you," I said.
"And I love you," Megan answered.
We sat on the sofa in the living room, in front of the fireplace,
listening to music, looking at each other. She wore this long-sleeved
green turtleneck sweater and tight blue jeans.
She looked so goddamned fucking beautiful in that warm,
flickering firelight. As the mushrooms started to wear off, we stood
up and danced to the music of Nick’s Boz Scaggs record. Silk
Degrees.
Once the mushrooms faded completely, we headed upstairs to bed.
However, we did not sleep. We spent hours making love. I cannot
explain how erotic and wonderful it was, not in mere words. Suffice
it to say that everything I’ve ever wanted in a lover Megan supplied in