Love's Illusions: A Novel (30 page)

Why had I let him into my life? Why had I allowed myself to get attached? Why hadn’t I been strong enough to keep our relationship on a casual fuck basis? Why had I let myself go from loving Stephen to loving Michael
?
When we first met I needed him to get away from ‘the different guy every night’ life I had started to lead. Even though I didn’t see it at that moment, I knew now that I hated being with someone new all the time – hated the idea of chocking up names on my wall or notches in my belt. That was a sleazy male thing, and no matter how much I told myself I was just being a modern, liberated woman, I knew I didn’t want to live like that. Then Michael came along, and saved me from myself – he gave me everything I needed… Why wasn’t that enough? Sex with him was wonderful, I could talk to him, and he provided whatever drug I wanted whenever I wanted it. Why hadn’t I ended it at that – why had I allowed him to love me and me to love him? Why had I allowed him to bring me into his family – to make me feel safe
?
I wasn’t safe now – this was a trap.

We now had an almost predictable routine – life was good, except that it wasn’t. Michael stayed at my place almost every night. He was still tender, still loving, still kissed me as if he meant it… His touch still sent shivers down my spine, it still felt like he was trying to consume me with every touch, every thrust – but something was wrong. As I spiraled downward, fighting with myself more and more each day just to get out of bed, I could feel it, whatever it was. I could feel myself slipping away from him; sometimes the sensation was so strong it was palpable. At those times a fear consumed me, one I had no control over.

Shortly before my graduation, Michael announced that he, Rick and Tom were going to make a trip out to California to visit Keith – check out what he was setting up. He said he still didn’t see dealing as a long term future, but maybe, just for a while to help to get some money together. It was then that I began applying to any, and all, school systems with an opening for an art teacher from Massachusetts to Florida to Alaska – not just schools in Chicago. I was petrified that he’d stay in California with Keith. Maybe, just maybe, he’d come with me if I had a job? What the hell was happening to us? Had I somehow destroyed this relationship too?

Graduation in May was a festive event. My parents flew into Chicago this time instead of driving; however, they still stayed at my apartment with me – which meant that Michael couldn’t. By this point, he was almost a full time resident, so we were forced to cart most of his things to the basement to a storage area for a few days. I figured my parents knew we were having sex, but I didn’t want to rub it in their faces – in this case deciding that a little deception was better than honesty even though I had been trying my best to tell them the truth. I didn’t want to give my mother any excuse whatsoever to start a discussion about morality or look at me like I was a total tramp – I just wanted to get through this whole thing as unscathed as possible. The three of us could find any number of things to argue about without handing them ammunition in the form of Michael – they were going to be here for four days,
God give me strength and lots of drugs.

I sometimes thought graduation was a bigger deal for them than it was for me. Not that I wasn’t grateful for having an education –at least it gave me some options and opportunity for employment – but to me school equaled pressure, something I
had
to complete. Yes, I was completing it for my own future, but it had become something I was determined to do – like a way of proving that all the shit in my life meant nothing, I could power my way through whatever life threw at me.

My parents, on the other hand, saw it as an accomplishment, something to be proud of. None of my Aunt Edith’s kids had gone to college, and none of the kids’ kids did either so I understood this would give my mother something she could point to with pride. I wished I could think of it that way, but I couldn’t. I had made it, academically at least, but I wondered if I had made it with my mind intact – I felt broken most of the time.

I should have done so much more. I wasn’t any great creative soul; I shouldn’t have gone to art school. I hated my own work, knew it would never amount to anything… Shit, I didn’t even enjoy doing it anymore. If my mother hadn’t insisted that I take education classes, this degree would be worth no more than a roll of toilet paper. I decided right then and there to frame my diploma, and hang it in the bathroom. Ashley and Lisa were excited about graduating – both of them also went the education route, but both also had studio areas they still loved. I was envious of their joy and sense of completion – triumph at a job well done – but somehow I couldn’t find the same feeling of gratification. It just wasn’t there, no matter where or how hard I looked. All I felt was emptiness.

SAIC held a reception after the actual graduation ceremony in one of the museum’s interior gardens. It was a spectacular setting; a full-fledged formal English garden style atmosphere with well-manicured greenery and paths crisscrossing at perfect intervals surrounded by glass walls, and museum corridors leading to some of the world’s best art work. The whole thing was done the same way the high class gallery openings were: waiters roaming around dressed in penguin suits serving either red or white wine, bearing trays of hors d’oeuvres: stuffed mushrooms, tiny sausages wrapped with bacon, crab cakes, and cheese of every variety, color and smell. The tables themselves were works of art, heaped with fruit and desserts – petit fours, lemon bits, and strawberries dipped in chocolate – and a huge sheet cake congratulating all of us on a job well done.

Michael came dressed in an updated version of his previous preppy costume – the same khaki pants and penny loafers, but this time he had a muted paisley print shirt with a solid deep purple tie that I had picked out to match the shirt. I even discarded my jeans for a boldly graphic, mid-length, orange and purple print dress and high heeled shoes.

My parents were delighted. They spent the time chatting with the other parents and faculty, getting to meet Ashley, Lisa and their families; and very proudly listened to Lana Christakos, whom they had met during their last trip, tell them how all the instructors in the education department wanted me to think about graduate school.

Life was indeed good and I was miserable.

Right after my 22nd birthday, Michael, Rick and Tom headed for California. I didn’t want him to go. I was afraid, but couldn’t find words to explain exactly why. I understood him wanting to see his brother, but I knew Keith was still trying to lure them all in with promises of fast, big money.

I was more than afraid – this trip terrified me, even though I knew I was imagining crazy ass scenarios that would never happen in real life, something about it was scaring me to the depths of my soul – my fear was insidious, eating away at me more each day. They had planned on riding their bikes out, but my ‘nagging’ as Rick put it, changed the mode of transportation to the Mustang. I had never been that fond of motorcycles; although I rode around the city with Michael, the sight of bare pavement speeding by without anything between me and it sent gory, bloody images racing through my mind. The idea of the three of them traveling over two thousand miles each way seemed ludicrous, and unnecessarily dangerous. Besides, I had seen the movie
Easy Rider
. No matter how adventurous, romantic, and exciting riding cross country on a bike seemed, the reality was that their asses would be killing them, they’d be exposed to whatever weather happened to happen, and it would take longer since they’d have to stop to sleep instead of swapping off drivers like they could do in the car. Plus they’d attract less attention from whatever crazy, conservative redneck types they ran into along the way in an old Mustang – at least I hoped they would, thus lessening my stress level. I was having a hard enough time trying to shake the feeling that Michael was going to get sucked in, and when I added thoughts of him being attacked by illiterate hicks with missing teeth, I could freak myself out in no time at all. I wanted him back – in one piece. If our relationship was going to end, at least it should be because of a conscious decision that was within our control, not something imposed by the outside world.

Shirley didn’t want them to go either. It never failed to amaze me how well she knew her sons – what each one was capable of doing or not doing. She knew Keith was headed in the wrong direction, yet was powerless to do anything to change his course. Every so often she’d make a comment that let me see how torn she was about Keith. “I should have left their father sooner; Keith is too much like him; I don’t want to lose any of them; it’s my fault.” Every phrase trailed off as she took another drink. Michael was right – we were a lot alike.

They were gone for two and a half weeks. Charlie brought in a rough, burly looking asshole named Guy to work with Levi while Rick was gone. Guy was big – not muscular big, but not fat big either; he looked like he used to lift weights, but had quit so the muscles were in the process of atrophying. He had lots of tattoos. I tried to talk to him when we were introduced, but he wasn’t much in the conversation department – zero personality.

“I can’t get him to talk to me, Levi, what’s wrong?” I asked when the two of us went into the back to get supplies.

“Nothing’s wrong,” Levi replied, “He’s never been the talkative type.”

“Do you know him, then?”

“Yeah, I’ve met him before, he’s tended bar all over town – that’s how Charlie knows him. There was some kind of trouble, I don’t know what… He disappeared for a while, but he used to be a good bar tender. I think you make him nervous Jackie, he’s not very comfortable around females,” he said with a smirk on his face.

“Hmph, well he makes me nervous too, so I guess we’re even,” I quipped back as I grabbed a stack of bar napkins and some straws from the shelf. “I heard Charlie ask him if he could stay on when Rick got back, so you could have more time off. What are you gonna do?”

“I don’t know exactly – I just need a change. Working in this dump every night is gettin’ to me, you know?” he answered. “Just like you’re gonna be moving on – one way or another… soon.”

His statement caught me by surprise, I hadn’t thought about it in those terms. “What do you mean ‘one way or another’?” I asked.

Levi met my eyes head on with a shit eatin’ grin on his face, “Don’t play coy with me… That may work with Mike, but I’m not him.”

“I’m
not
being ‘coy’. What are you talking about?”

He seemed almost exasperated, “I mean, you’re going to split as soon as you get a teaching job. You have no intention of staying here. You don’t fit in, you never have, and you’re done slumming.”

“Well, of course I want to get a real job. I wouldn’t have spent all this time in school if I didn’t – that’s no big revelation. And I haven’t been slumming.”

“That’s not what I meant, and yes you have,” he said as he turned to go back into the bar with a case of liquor. “And you’re about done with Mike too.”

I stood there puzzled for a second. “What the hell is that supposed to mean? Fuck you Levi!” I called after him. I was in no mood for his riddles, and I wasn’t going to let him upset me.
Asshole!
I thought, closing the door behind myself.

Time crawled by. Michael called every couple days – so did Shirley. She seemed concerned about something in particular, but never said exactly what, spending most of the conversation asking for whatever news I had heard or talking about nothing at all. Candy had moved to Indiana a few months back with her current boyfriend, so Shirley was alone in the house while Michael and Tom were gone – maybe she was just lonely. I understood that; with Michael gone, I had far too much time on my hands too. I felt like I did almost a year ago when Keith first came home from Vietnam.

Most of the days I slept till mid-afternoon. I was too stressed, stoned or hung over from the night before to get out of bed – then spent time in the afternoons before going to The Canteen at night, sending out resumes to all the school systems on a list of openings I had gotten from the education department. I worked my way through all the openings, even applying to Cheyenne, Wyoming, and Fairbanks, Alaska – both of which were tied in my mind as moves of desperation, but worth the price of a postage stamp. I had grown up hearing that teachers were always in demand – that it was the best profession a woman could have, other than secretary or nurse – but somewhere around 1971, the teacher shortage had turned into a teacher glut, schools were cutting back, so jobs were harder to come by. I applied for any grade level, even though high school was where I thought I wanted to be; I was not fond of little kids so elementary age was at the bottom of the pile.

Over the last month or so, several of the old biker types that used to frequent The Canteen had started showing up again. Something was going on with Charlie and his partners. I was pretty sure they were having financial problems although nothing was ever said. Whenever the biker crew showed up, there was a tension in the air. Levi didn’t like most of them much, however, Guy seemed to relax more when they came around. The Canteen always had a very eclectic mix of patrons; misfits was actually a better way to describe most of them. They were just a little ‘off’, the kind of people that didn’t fit with any group – they came together, all managing to blend and coexist in the same space and time while there. But these guys from the past were different – tougher, non-sociable, they didn’t blend… They stayed to themselves, and watched everything that happened with an air of suspicion, especially behind the bar, as if they had a proprietary interest. Before they left on their road trip, both Michael and Rick told me to stick close to Levi, advice they didn’t have to repeat – I wanted nothing to do with Guy or any of the others.

“God, I’ve missed you so much,” I told Michael when he walked into the apartment. He was smiling – looking so very sexy.