My Friend Leonard (14 page)

 

T
wo nights later I see Brooke again she's with Danny I don't acknowledge her don't say a single word to her. I'm not playing a game, I am trying to be loyal, to be faithful, to honor Lilly's memory.

The next night I'm at the bar I see her again. She's with one of her friends, someone I don't know. She walks over to me, speaks.

Hi.

I nod.

You can't say hi to me?

I can.

I'm waiting.

Hi.

How are you?

Fine.

I turn, walk away, walk into the bathroom it's empty. I open a stall door close the toilet sit down on the lid. I hold up my hands, they're shaking. I light a cigarette, it doesn't calm me. My heart is hammering, I'm nauseous, dizzy. I put my head in my hands, close my eyes, take deep breaths. This shouldn't be happening, I'm not ready for this to happen and I don't want it to happen. I want to be with Lilly. I want to be alone. I'm safe alone and I can't be hurt alone. My heart is hammering. She could hurt me.

I stand walk out look through the bar she's gone. Part of me is relieved, part of me disappointed. I'm still rattled, my hands are in my pockets still shaking. I leave start walking. I want to talk to Lilly, need to talk to her, I'm scared to talk to her. I walk for an hour two three think. I buy flowers red roses at a 24-hour grocery store. I lay them down, sit beneath them.

I speak.

Hi.

I miss you.

I'm trying not to, but I do. I miss you.

I want to talk to you about something. I'm scared to do it, but it's going to come up sooner or later.

I met a girl.

I don't know her really, I've hardly spoken to her, and I don't know if anything will happen with her, but she's the first person to make me feel anything since you left me.

I'm sorry, I'm sorry.

I don't know what to do.

If you were here this wouldn't be happening.

I wish you were here.

I wish you hadn't left me.

I hate you for it.

But I'll forgive you, if you forgive me.

I love you, and will always love you, but I want to see her.

Forgive me.

 

A
s I dial my heart pounds hands tremble. First ring, second ring I think about hanging up. She answers.

Hello?

Hi.

Who's this?

You know who it is.

No, I don't.

Yes, you do.

It's eight in the morning.

So what.

Why are you calling so early?

Were you sleeping?

No, I wasn't. Is there something I can do for you?

You like baseball?

I don't really think about it much.

You ever been to a game?

No.

You want to go to one?

When?

Tomorrow.

What time?

One.

Cubs or White Sox?

Cubs.

Let me check my schedule.

I laugh.

Why are you laughing?

Why don't you give me your address.

There's a pause. My heart is still pounding, my fingers still trembling. 65 East Scott.

What's the apartment number?

There's a doorman. He'll call me when you get here.

I'll be there at noon.

I hang up. I smile. My heart pounds my hands tremble not because I'm nervous not anymore. I stand walk in a circle smile walk in a circle. I feel something other than sorrow and loss, confusion and uncertainty. I feel urges that I don't have to fight, that are not part of the horror of my former life, that are not going to kill me if I indulge them. I feel, something more, feel. I walk in a circle.

I take a shower smile in the shower. I spend the day walking around smiling, sitting in a park along the lake smiling, I eat a huge banana split in the afternoon I'm not full I eat another one smiling. I don't do anything, but when afternoon arrives, I want to sleep. Being lazy is very hard work and can be very tiring. I decide to try and take a nap. I can't remember the last time I took a nap. If I can actually do it, my body may be finally starting to recover, normalize.

I walk into my apartment lie down sleep. Sleep comes easily, deep sound dreamless afternoon nap sleep. When I wake it's dark I brush my teeth leave go to the bar to see if my friends are around they're in the back room shooting pool and drinking. I see Danny he walks over to me.

You call her?

Yeah.

You gonna see her?

I'm taking her to a Cubs game tomorrow.

He laughs.

No fucking way.

Yeah fucking way.

How was the conversation?

I called her and asked her if she wanted to go to the game. The entire thing lasted about two minutes. I was distant because I know girls like her get hit on all the time, and if you're not distant, they're not interested.

Do you know anything about her?

I know her name's Brooke. I know you grew up with her. I know she lives in a nice part of town, and she doesn't seem to have to work. I know some other things, but I'm not sure they're any of your business.

Like what?

I said I'm not sure they're any of your business.

He laughs again.

Come on.

I know that she's beautiful. I know that I get nervous around her. I know that she feels whatever it is that I feel.

Those are good things to know.

Yeah.

You want to know some more?

Like what?

She's from one of, if not the wealthiest family in Chicago.

I could give a shit about that.

She's also kind of tough, and won't tolerate any bullshit.

I don't intend to give her any bullshit.

She's also really picky.

No problem there, Danny. I'm the catch of the motherfucking century.

He laughs again.

If you ever meet her parents, I hope I'm there.

Why?

They're cool, but they're very conservative, old-money people. They'd probably freak out if you told them anything about your past.

I laugh, spend the next couple of hours smoking cigarettes, drinking cola, sitting in the corner watching the pool table, occasionally talking to one of my friends. I get tired, leave, think about going to see Lilly, walk home, decide to try and sleep, I need my motherfucking beauty sleep. It comes easily I close my eyes and I'm gone.

I wake up early. Shower with soap, put on clean clothes, get coffee, walk. I walk into the Gold Coast, which is the wealthiest neighborhood in Chicago. It sits on the near north side, along the lake and just above Michigan Avenue and the shopping district. The streets are lined with ivy-covered brick, brown and greystone mansions built at the turn of the twentieth century by rich industrialists. European sedans sit at the curb, some of them have drivers in them. Women with children have nannies,
men wear dark conservative suits and carry rolled newspapers. I walk up and down the blocks looking at the houses looking at the street names looking for East Scott. I find it, it runs parallel to the lake, a block off Lakeshore Drive. Compared to everything else in the neighborhood, Brooke's building is new, built in the sixties or seventies, twenty-five or thirty stories, simple white stone with large windows.

I walk into the lobby. A middle-aged man in a coat and tie sits behind a reception desk. He looks up, speaks.

Service entrance is around back.

I'm not here to perform any sort of service.

Can I help you with something?

I give him Brooke's name, he asks me my name, picks up a phone and dials. He speaks into the phone, hangs up, tells me she'll be down in a minute. I thank him, step outside, light a cigarette. I'm nervous, scared. I have never been on a date sober. Except for Lilly, I've never been with a woman sober. My time with her was spent in an institution where we were safe, where we were shielded from the temptations and the self-created nightmares of the outside world, where we could pretend we were normal, where we could dream we had a future. It's different now, different because Lilly is gone, because I'm alone, because Brooke and I don't know each other, because I'm vulnerable, because I can be hurt. The nicotine doesn't make me less nervous or less scared. It doesn't make me invincible. It gives me something to do while I wait for Brooke to come downstairs.

I hear the door open behind me. I turn around. She's walking toward me she's wearing jeans, tennis shoes, a sweater, she's smiling she speaks.

Hi.

Hi.

I drop my cigarette, stomp it out. Nervous.

You ready to go?

Yes.

You want to walk or take the El.

Do we have time to walk?

Probably.

Let's walk.

We start walking, as we walk we talk, the small talk bullshit of first dates.

As we get closer to the stadium, the streets become more crowded. We don't have tickets, so I start looking for scalpers. I see three men on a corner pretending to be busy. I walk over ask them if they have tickets one of them asks me if I'm a cop I say no he gives me a price. I hand him some cash he gives me the tickets.

Brooke and I walk into the stadium. I offer to buy her souvenirs, a hat, shirt, perhaps you'd like a miniature bat, she laughs at me. We find our seats, they're in the upper deck along the third base line. We settle in I ask her if she knows the rules she smiles says I've never been to a game, but I'm not a fucking idiot.

They play the National Anthem, the game starts. A minute later, a beer vendor walks up our aisle.

You want a beer?

Didn't you just get out of rehab?

Not just, but not too long ago.

Won't it make you uncomfortable?

I'm not gonna have one, but if you want one, you should have it. Beer is part of the great American baseball tradition.

Okay, I'll have one.

I motion to the vendor, pay him, hand the beer to Brooke, she takes a sip.

How is it?

Good. Thank you.

Good.

Do you mind if I ask you a question?

Ask me whatever you want.

Why were you there?

Alcohol and cocaine.

Are you an alcoholic?

Yeah, I'm an alcoholic and I'm a coke fiend. I also have a record.

What kind of record?

Sold drugs, a couple DUI's, vandalism, a couple of assault charges, all kinds of stupid shit.

I'm sorry.

No reason to be sorry. Wasn't your fault, wasn't anybody's fault but my own.

How long were you there?

Rehab?

Were you somewhere else?

I went to jail when I was done.

How long were you in rehab?

Few months.

How long were you in jail?

Few months.

Which was worse?

Rehab was worse and it was also better. My body was fucked from too much liquor and too many drugs so I was sick for a long time and the sickness was a fucking nightmare. Once I started to feel better, I had to decide whether I wanted to live or die, and that was a hard decision because it meant coming to terms with a lot of pretty awful shit. After I made the decision I met a bunch of cool people and I started to get a bit more healthy and it was kind of amazing. Jail was boring and occasionally scary and a waste of fucking time.

How are you now?

At this moment I'm good, and I'm generally okay, but those are relative terms. Compared to normal people I'm a wreck, extremely troubled, extremely fucked-up.

She laughs.

At least you're honest about it.

If we become friends, you'd have found out sooner or later.

She smiles.

If?

I smile.

If.

As soon as the game starts the weather starts to turn. Heavy black clouds roll over our heads, we hear the quiet rumble of distant thunder. The temperature drops five degrees, ten degrees. The sun is gone, the wind back. I look at Brooke.

Think it'll pass?

The weather here is crazy. It could be sunny in fifteen minutes, or it could start snowing.

You want to risk it, or you want to take off?

The game just started. Let's risk it.

We stay, but don't pay much attention to the game. I ask her about her family, she has an older sister, a younger sister, she gets along with both of them, her parents are happily married. I ask her where she went to school she went to a small, private liberal arts college. I ask what she studied she says psychology, I ask her what she wants to do she says she doesn't know, she's trying to figure it out.

It starts to rain. Within fifteen minutes the rain turns to sleet. We're beneath the canopy of the upper deck, so we stay dry, but it's cold and I can see goose bumps on Brooke's arms. I ask her if she wants to leave she says let's stick it out, ten minutes later I ask her again, I don't want her to be uncomfortable, she says let's stick it out. I ask her again when the game is delayed and a tarp rolled across the field and she smiles and says, yes, I think we can leave now.

We walk out of the stadium, start walking back toward the city, we're both getting wet I try to hold the program over Brooke's head, it doesn't do much good. I lead her away from the stadium away from the bars away from the people she asks where we're going I say to a place I know.

We run a few blocks. We try to stay under trees or awnings so that we stay dry. We go to a small bar. I have been to the bar before, it's a dive with a pool table. I know it will be quiet. I know we'll be alone.

We walk in there are two people at the bar and the tables are all empty. I ask Brooke if she wants a drink she says sure I get her a beer, I get myself a cola. We walk to the back room which has the pool table and a few stools.

I look at Brooke, speak.

You wanna play?

Sure.

Do you know how?

Sort of.

Do you want me to teach you?

You can give me pointers.

I put the balls in the rack, hand Brooke a cue.

You wanna break?

Okay.

I take off the rack, hand her the cue ball, step back. She leans over, lines it up, cracks it, the cue ball blows the rest of the balls all over the table.

Doesn't look like you're gonna need many pointers.

She smiles.

We play for an hour. She slowly sips her beer, I drink five colas. We both smoke. She wins two games, I win three. We talk easily, no uncomfortable silences, no awkward pauses. She asks me how often I want to drink and use I tell her always. She asks me if being in a bar is hard I tell her I can get alcohol whenever I want, wherever I am, there are liquor stores on every block, being in a bar is no different than being anywhere else. She asks me if it's hard not drinking, I tell her it's miserable, that I spend a lot of my time crying, that sometimes I feel like I want to die. She asks me how I deal with it, I tell her I always know that at some point I will feel better and if I'm patient and hold on, that point will come. She asks me what I want to do with my life I tell her I have trouble getting through the day most of the time and I'm not really worried about it yet. She asks me how I make my money, I tell her I don't have much I scrape by doing bullshit jobs. I'm open with her, more open with her than just about anyone else, but there are some things she doesn't need to know, and there are some things I'm not going to tell her.