Some Rainbow – Christopher Woods Chapter 1 – New Beginnings Music is our first language. From the beginning; before words, music and rhythm are there. Vibrations, tones can be felt as early as the womb. My first memories are music. It was everywhere, it in my crib, shopping malls, on the TV. Music came from mom’s piano and from her portable, two-tone record player; the kind with detachable speakers on the ends. Mom would put on soundtracks from “Camelot”, “My Fair Lady”, and “West Side Story”. She would sing to us. When she left me alone, the music continued. I remember staring at the label; colors whirling and blending together on the black, flat shiny disc. Music was always there for me. It didn’t matter what insanity was surrounding me, it was always my friend. An understanding friend that knew just how I felt. I always used it to escape. Classical music was especially spoke to me. There were no words telling me a narrative, no story with specific places, characters, and timeframes. I determined what it was. Classical music was a backdrop that highlighted parts of my life in ways that are closely personal and individualistic. I was listening to Holt’s, “The Planets”; specifically “Mars, the Bringer of War”. I can’t remember if it was on my Walkman or running over in my head. I sat staring at a shiny tile floor, lost in the war. An announcement broke my attention. “Ladies and Gentleman, the 6:30 bus to Harrisburg with stops in Collegeville, Quakertown, Royersford, Pottstown, Reading, and Lebanon will be leaving at gate 12 in fifteen minutes. Please have your tickets ready.” I grabbed my duffle bag and suitcase. I didn’t want to be late. A bus ran hourly between Philadelphia and Reading. I always sat in the back of the bus. I don’t usually like socializing with people I don’t know. People usually scared me. I don’t mind being around them but I don’t want them to talk to me. I don’t want to know them and vice versa. I’d rather just live my life alone. So far, I’ve been doing a pretty good job of that. I remember looking out the window as crumbling brick Philly rowhomes and dusty, forgotten factories took their daily steps towards the wrecking ball. Out of the city, the scene changed dramatically. Out of the Industrial Era factories, the graffiti, the dirt and crime was the open expanses of Pennsylvania Dutch farmland, barns with Hex signs, 19th century farmhouses, and rows of corn that seem to go on forever. The businesses along the way were leftovers from before the turnpike opened up. In some areas, the stores still did a good amount of business. In other parts, buildings sat there with happy, cheerful, faded signs announcing a father’s day sale or “get yours today!” I was so exhausted, all of this glided past in a blur. The morning sun glinted off every shiny surface, creating highlights and depth like some impressionist painting. I ran a hand through my dark brown hair and shuddered when I thought of the fight I had with Ma last night. I didn’t get to bed till three a.m. and was out the door at 5:30. When I opened the front door, as quiet as possible, I felt the humidity and cool morning air. I smelled the dew on the wet grass from the neighbor’s lawn. The street was vacant. The city was asleep and quiet. No cars, no people. It looked more perfect without people. I hadn’t been getting along with mom in years, all throughout my teen years. Last night’s fight was pretty bad; probably the worst we’ve ever had. It ended with some awful words, bells you can’t un-ring. At the end of the screaming, I made the choice. I called Gran to accept her offer. She said I was always welcome to stay with her if the fighting got bad. Last night it was time to get out. It was time to say “goodbye” to Philadelphia. Exhausted, not much to eat, I could barely stay awake. I looked up at the metal rack over the seat. There was the duffel bag filled with pretty much all I owned; clothes, cassettes, mementos, cigarettes, pills and a six week old diploma from North Catholic High School. Graduating was a huge accomplishment, especially in an all-boys school. Situated in a rough, working class Philly neighborhood; it’s a place I never fit in. It’s difficult to endure high school when you don’t like sports. Instead, I was in theater and band. For as much as I hated football, I spent the last four years in the marching band going to every football game. We played for graduation days and even marched in the Mummer’s Parade on one of the coldest New Year’s Days in Philly history. I remember how the valves on my Tuba would freeze up by the end of the long march up Broad Street. I think what I liked most about band was feeling of being part of something greater than yourself. When you create music as one group, one band, the whole speaks for all the individuals that make it. I also loved being in shows. We had a great theater program. The directors also taught theater in college. The sets were professionally designed and built. Being a part of all this naturally made me a target for those who weren’t in band, or didn’t like plays. This accounted for close to ninety present of the student population. However, I had dreams of being a huge Broadway star. I was going to get there but how to get there from here was a huge challenge. Most guys had stable, loving families with aunts, uncles, cousins that were always in their lives. My family had little of that. Outside of band and theater, I liked guys in sports uniforms but not sports itself. No wonder I’m a neurotic dude into fetishes. I had a crush on so many hot jocks. I’m sure I was going to hell for thinking it. Most times I felt I was going to hell for just breathing. The whole sports thing was pointless and boring. Who cares if someone throws an object and the other person sends it through a goal post or bats it or runs with it. My dad loved watching the Phillies and the Eagles. He would zone us kids out and yell at us if we got in front of the TV and blocked his view. Mostly, he wasn’t around much and when he was, I wished he was gone. I remember he dropped me off at little league. I really didn’t want to go. I didn’t know what to do or how to play baseball. I was just supposed to figure out that a bat was supposed to hit a ball being hurled at me. It was terrifying. However, growing up in my household, I knew what I should say to make Dad proud of me so I told him I hit a home run. Hell, I didn’t know what the hell a homerun was. He seemed excited and was happy. I thought to myself, “Job well done.” Now theater is much more demanding than sports. Every night, you have to be the character and mentally prepare yourself before stepping on stage. You’re costume has to fit the part, your manner of speaking, your movements, the biography you set up for the character’s actions before he steps on the stage are difficult enough. Now, add to that having to remember pages of dialogue and get move around the stage when exactly when you’re supposed to be there. Then there were costume changes in full make-up. I don’t think most jocks would have a clue how to do any of that well. Maybe I’m wrong. The bus slowly rumbled through old route 422, what used to be the main road to Reading before the Pennsylvania Turnpike was completed. That day, 422 was the route taking a bus full of passengers through a countryside rapidly heating up in the haze of the morning sun. The heat wave was intense. Even with the air conditioning blasting through the vent above me, I felt sweat rolling down the sides of my white T-Shirt. As the bus rambled on, I thought of reading the Inquirer but wasn’t into it; what I did want was a cigarette. In high school, I used to smoke a lot; Parliaments or Marlboro lights were my usual choice. Our school had a smoking section just outside the cafeteria. I thought I looked so cool when I had a cigarette in my mouth. Back then, they were easy to afford. A pack cost fifty cents. I remember looking down at my sneakers. They looked like they’d gone through a war. Even the athletic ring socks seemed to match the sneakers. The outfit looked very “Philadelphia”; something that was once clean and bright now looking dirty, used and faded. A few passengers retrieved their belongings before heading off the bus at Royersford. “Watch your step, folks, watch your step,” the bus driver cautioned as they stepped off. The bus was quiet and almost empty after a group of noisy passengers and their kids got off in . The bus pulled out of the small station and headed down 422 towards Reading. Then I noticed this guy. A handsome, lanky Hispanic guy with dark, wavy hair was striding through the bus like he just bought it. He was in his early 20's, lean and muscular with a mustache. He noticed me and gave me a wink. He wore a crisp, white tank top, light blue corduroy pants and new white sneakers. He took a seat across the aisle and cautiously looked around making sure no one saw him. He started fondling himself. He was intently staring at me and then my crotch. I remember noticing what he was doing with disgust and terror. Was he trying to get arrested? What was wrong with this dude? I quickly turned to look out the window but now a new wave of panic hit me after looking down; I was getting turned on. In my head, I was screaming, “Oh my GOD! What do I do now?” I quickly grabbed the newspaper bought at the terminal and covered my lap. I kept my head down, trying to look like I was reading. I looked down at The Philadelphia Inquirer, dated July 18, 1982. It was just supposed to be a means to keep me occupied; anything to keep awake and alert so I didn’t miss my stop. Now it’s saving me from dying a thousand deaths. I was so embarrassed and excited at the same time; being hit on by a hot guy. It was the stuff I fantasized about since I hit puberty but now was the wrong time and place. The bus pulled into the next stop, a sign on the bus terminal read, POTTSTOWN. The baritone voice of the driver crackled over the speaker above me, “Folks, this is Pottstown. Those staying on the bus for Reading, we’ll be…underway shortly. We’ll be here for about… fifteen minutes…so, (he broke up his words like a pilot on a 747)…if you want to take a cigarette break, this is your chance. We’ll be leaving promptly…in about…fifteen minutes. Thank you.” Before getting off the bus, the Puerto Rican guy stared as if he expected me to get off the bus with him! Soon, he was out of site, off the bus. I felt this huge relief; nobody saw the X-rated scene between us, with the exception of the driver who I think noticed what was going on. I turned beat red when he looked over his shoulder at me. The bus crossed the Penn Street Bridge; we were a block from the terminal. I pulled the duffle bag and suitcase off the overhead rack, and tucked a cigarette behind my ear. I stuffed the pack in my pocket. I wanted to light up so bad. The driver’s voice clicked on, “Folks…this is Reading. Here is the connection for the New York bus…which is leaving in …twenty minutes. Those continuing to Harrisburg need to exit. If you’re continuing on to Harrisburg …You’ll be using the bus next to us. Thank you for riding and… have a safe journey,” his microphone clicked off. Stepping off the bus, I’ll never forget that blast of hot, humid air. I chucked the paper in the trash as I saw Gran inside the terminal. “Why, look at you! Come here! I'm so happy to see you!” She gave me a big kiss on the cheek and warm hug. “How was the trip?” I didn’t want to talk about it but obliged her since I was now living under her roof, “Well, I was keyed up so I couldn't sleep.” Gran looked concerned, “Not even on the bus?” “I kept thinking about the fight with Ma,” I told her, “But now I'm here and she's back in Philly. I'm done, D-O-N-E, done.” The whole episode was too much to think about for now; I quickly changed the subject, “So, how are you and Granpop; it's been awhile, eh?” all the while trying to get the thought of the handsome dude on the bus out of my head. Gran dabbed sweat off her forehead, “A while? I just saw you three weeks ago at your graduation!” My mind must have been still thinking of sex that never materialized. I was distracted and nervous. I thought up something quick “Must be the heat getting to me. So, how are things here?” I took out a lighter and lit up. The answer made her look at me as though I was losing it, “Oh, same old stuff; work, cats, shopping, cats...and cats.” We walked towards her car at the far end of the parking lot then hopped into her ‘68 Plymouth Fury II. As per usual, she was going too fast. “Just roll the window down if you’re going to smoke.” The car rolled onto Penn Street and almost hit another car traveling in the same direction. The driver hit the horn and flipped us the finger. I was used to it. Gran was unfazed. I mumbled “Jackass” under my breath as the other driver sped down the street. Gran slowly shook her head and said, “Some people just think they OWN the road. Sheesh!” The drive was quick since Gran and Grandpop lived just a few blocks from the station. Gran found a parking space in front of the house; a rarity. Reading wasn’t meant for cars; horse and carriages, pedestrians, trolleys but not cars. This was a city whose glory days were buried back somewhere between 1890 and 1940. Across the street from the house was an abandoned hosiery factory; an all too familiar sight. It’s all brick façade was ornate woodwork trimming the tops of each window. Intricate brick designs separating each of its sad eleven floors, it was impressive and massive, taking up half a city block. Rusted, rotting vent fans and pipes stuck out of the building at various places as though it was trying to grow roots. Graffiti caked the lower floors of the building and smashed out windows on the upper floors. Those that weren’t smashed were either caked is grime or boarded up. I think I remember a “For sale” sign on it but I can’t imagine why anyone would want it. The building looked like it was really beautiful the day it opened. Along the very top of the building, in faded white painted letters, was the name: “OLLENBACH MILLS.” There was an ornate clock tower on the roof at the corner of the building. The hands on the clock had long since rusted off. I still remember, as a small child, that loud factory whistle going right through my ears as the shifts changed. I remember how it smelled like old machinery grease and rotting, dried out wood. For years it stood vacant. It was a fire hazard for sure as kids and bums would sneak in. Gran knew it was going to catch fire one day and that would be the last they’d see of it. Just like the fate of Ollenbach Mills, everything in Reading seemed dead. Large monstrosities like the brick factory across from Gran’s house sat silently abandoned all throughout the city. Reading was no longer an industrial powerhouse but a place fading away into history. After the soldiers came home from World War II, Reading’s suburbs and freeways sprung up taking a portion of the city’s residents and jobs with them. Many of the lower skilled workers scattered all over the country in search of job opportunities as factories in Reading were shipping work overseas and downsizing what remained. Good paying factory work no longer existed. In the days when they did exist, jobs provided countless opportunities for new immigrants. It was a means for a better life. Over generations, jobs at places like Ollenbach Mills helped buy homes, cars, and funded college educations. Now, most all of that was gone. On South 10th Street, parallel parking was a fine art. I’d patiently wait as Gran tried her best to fit a 60’s behemoth into a space that seemed big enough for a VW bug. It took her a good five minutes but she’d pull it off. It would give any driving instructor nightmares. When we got in the house, I’d be sure to ignore Grandpop who’d be seated in a beat-up recliner held together by duct tape. The whole first floor smelled of his cigar smoke which leeched into the furniture, carpeting, and the walls themselves. I despised him and the feeling was mutual. He was in his sixties. Being born in Maine, he had a thick New England accent. He always wore grey work shirts and pants, always had a gut and always had a permanent scowl with a cigar hanging out of it. He looked as if he just got off the factory floor but in reality he had not worked in years. “HEY! What the hell's wrong witch-uh?” he yelled over his shoulder from his duct tapped chair. “Close that witch-cull-it door. You think you'd been brought up in a bahn or sumthin'!” I walked to the front door and slamming it shut, giving that bastard a fake smile. Gran yelled out from the kitchen, “Oh, I can already tell this is going to be fun times. Phil, come out here and leave him alone.” As I dropped my bags on the floor, I noticed Gran’s cats lounging on the carpet near the air conditioner. I crouched down to pet two of them. “Muzzy! Mittens! I haven't seen you guys in a while!” I looked around for her third one, “Gran, where's Lovey?” Muzzy and Mittens raced to the kitchen as though they heard a can opener. She looked at me dead pan, “Where do you think?” I came back with the logical response, “On your bed?” “You got it... and these two have been under my feet all morning. They want to go out.” Gran looked down at both cats staring up at her. "Come, pests, time to go out. It's hot as hell out there but they act like they're going to lose their minds this instant unless I let them out.” Gran opened the kitchen door leading to the back yard as a rush of hot, steaming air pushed its way into the room. She looked at Muzzy. Muzzy looked back at her and let out a ‘meow’ that sounded commanding and pleading. Gran looked at him, “Yes, I know, you have to go out this instant!” She played out this same scenario over and over for years. I told her, “I think you're forgetting your role.” “What roll? I didn’t get rolls at the store.” She took a dish rag and wiped her forehead. “God, it's hot out there.” I looked at her waiting for the light to go on, “You're THEIR slave! They have you wrapped around their paws.” Gran looked at the cats, “I think you're right about that.” Gran’s cats followed her to the kitchen door. She’d pick up each one and carry them to a leash. The back yard was long and narrow with a thin clothesline running the length of the yard. One end of the line was tied to the back of the house and the other the garage on the far end. On it she’d have three leashes threaded on the clothesline. She’d hook each cat's collars to a leash. The cats would then sniff the grass and roam the yard. They’d trained Gran well. “So, what do you plan on doing with yourself? I mean, I can support you for a little while until you get yourself settled. You know I love having you here but, Phil I can't support you by myself. Grandpop’s already angry you're staying here.” Gran pulled out mayonnaise, mustard, a small stack of wrapped cold cuts and cheese from the refrigerator. She took out some plates and set them on the kitchen table. A picture of President Kennedy hung on the wall above it. On the top of the refrigerator was a rectangular, white plastic radio. KWR News Radio was broadcasting from Philadelphia in a slow monotonous drone. Gran looked at me, “Well?” At that point, I was too tired to think straight. “I know, I know, I have plans. I'll start looking for something this week.” I was so worn out. I thought I’d hop into bed for a nap. So I started walking out of the kitchen when Gran said, “You're in luck! I was already checking out some opportunities. Take a look at this.” Gran handed me an electric neon yellow flyer, "Need a job? Why not get the skills you need through Community College of Berks County. The Job Training Partnership Act has classes that will jump start your new career and they’re free! Enroll at CCBC this Monday, July 19th, 8 AM!" I asked her, “What's this?” She had obviously planned this for a while now, “These are classes you should enroll in!” she pointed to the list, “See? This is a typing course. You can always use that in any job. With your epilepsy, you can't take chances getting a factory job. That’s too physically demanding. We'll set you up in an office soon enough. Sound good?” I was too tired and didn’t want to argue but now I really needed some sleep. “Gran, I'm exhausted after fighting it out with Mom, packing my stuff up. I'm not even unpacked yet. I just need to take a minute.” As per usual, Gran didn’t hear a word I just told her. “Take all the time you need. I'll drive you there and we'll get you enrolled.” “And if I don't?” I said realizing the argument was pointless. “Now come on. You know you have to take advantage of this opportunity. It is 90 degrees out there and too hot to argue with you. So, let's make the best of things. If you slack off with no plans for the future, you'll never get your bearings. So... we’ll go tomorrow; 8 a.m. Oh and Phil, wear something decent. I don't want you looking like some rag-a-muffin.” She said as she prepared lunch. “I love you Gran. I appreciate it.” She stopped fishing for mayonnaise at the bottom of the jar and said “I love you too. Now get upstairs and unpack while I get us some lunch.” I stepped into the cool air of the upstairs bedrooms. The house was once a farmhouse before the rest of the city grew around it. The layout of the floor was odd as parts of the house were built as additions to accommodate a growing family. This meant the bedrooms were attached with no hallway. To get to the bathroom meant walking through one bedroom then pass through Gran’s bedroom and into the bathroom at the back of the house. As a child, we were terrified of the upstairs. The doors were ancient and the doorknobs where either marble colored or glass. If it was nighttime, no one was up there, you’d have to pray you didn’t walk into furniture or trip on something before turning on a lamp. There were pictures of her brother in his World War II air force uniform; a smiling, handsome guy. He died in a freak accident after the war. When the war ended, there was a flood of servicemen looking for work. He took whatever job he could. One night after work, he sat in the car with his girlfriend. Parked outside his girlfriend’s house, they both took a minute before saying goodbye for the night. His head tilted back as he drifted off. His girlfriend had her head on his shoulder as he started to mumble something. “What’s that? Joe, I can’t hear you?” she said. “Remember,” He told her, “This Wednesday, have to be at funeral … at nine…Dad’s funeral.” His girlfriend shook him, “Joe, wake up.” He was groggy. He snapped out of the dream. “Joe, you were dreaming. You better get to bed. You were talking in your sleep.” “Oh, sorry, must have nodded off,” he yawned, “What was I talking about?” She looked at the face in her compact’s mirror and applied powder to her cheeks, “You were talking about us going to your dad’s funeral.” “Oh! I really must be out of it,” he stared out the front windshield looking into eternity, “I can’t believe it’s a year since he died. He’s been gone a whole year.” He stretched his arms in front of him, “I must really be tired. Gimme a kiss, I’ll see you tomorrow.” Joe’s funeral happened to be the same Wednesday he mumbled about in his dream; nine a.m. The day he died, he’d been walking through an orchard with an aluminum ladder. The night before, a storm blew through the valley and electric lines sagged low enough to be hidden in the trees. He burned so fast, the coins in his pockets fused together. As a kid, I was scared of the upstairs because I thought there were ghosts in it. Gran would look at me and my siblings and said “A WHAT?? There’d better NOT be ghosts in this house if they know what’s good for them. I pay the bills here, not them. There better not be one ghost up there. If there are, you tell me and we’ll see who’s staying in MY house. No, I won’t have it.” Gran was great at making us feel safe. She would protect us from ghosts and relatives that met grisly ends. The next morning after I had breakfast and coffee with Gran, she drove me down to the community college. I first had a smoke but was told I couldn’t light up there by some smarmy old bitty. I walked into the lobby and asked where to sign up for the JTPA. Another disinterested college employee sat behind a folding table with clip boards and handed me one without a word. I was used to this, used to rude people. After all, I grew up in Philly. That Monday morning was dark and rainy. At times, the rain came down in sheets. I signed up and got directions to the classroom. I took a seat at the back of the 4th floor typing lab. The building used to be a Holiday Inn, but since it never made money, it was sold and turned into a community college. Every classroom gave the feeling of having an illicit affair. There was a low, rolling thunder booming in the distance. Suddenly, the rain starts pouring; lightning flashes. There are a handful of us in the room. I was the only guy there. I checked out the light blue walls with wall to wall carpet left over from its hotel years. The classroom had diagrams on the board displaying correct hand placement. I looked at the tan IBM Selectric II in front of me. Over in the next aisle was Julie. She was blonde, young, looked like a centerfold and talked like a "Valley Girl". Our typing teacher was Mrs. Knoblach; I’ll never forget that name. It just always stuck with me but I don’t know why. Knoblach walked into the classroom and I instantly noticed the contrast. She was the complete opposite of Julie; plain, short, middle-aged. She asked us to open our typing books. “Hi and welcome to Elementary Typing I, I'm your teacher, Mrs. Knoblach.” She said with a forced smile. “We'll start off by turning on our typewriters. You see that button on the right of the machine? Press it forward, please.” I was already bored and over this whole thing. I remember grumbling quietly under my breath, “You mean the one with a sticker taped to it that says ‘on’, that one? What if that opens a portal to hell?” Julie started quietly laughing and tapped me on the shoulder. She spoke in a hushed voice, “Hi! I'm Julie. You're cracking me up AND you're going to get you rself thrown out after only a few minutes.” I introduced myself and shook her hand, “I'm Phil. Nice to meet you.” Knoblach interrupted, “Let’s be sure to keep our talking to a minimum. We have a lot to cover today and I don’t want you to fall behind.” I looked at Julie and said, “Yeah, she doesn’t want you to fall on your behind.” She snickered. It was the first day and already I couldn’t wait to get out of there. After class, we both had a cigarette ready. She asked for a light. I lit her smoke and then mine. Julie said, “So, where are you from?” A long stream of grey smoke wafted out of her mouth. “Philly.” “Yeah?” she said warily, “So, ‘Phil-from-Philly’, what in God's name are you doing here?” After that question, the gears in her head turned, “Then again, why am I here, like, at all?” I told her, “You're here to smoke in my face and keep me amused.” Julie laughed and said, “I'm not that funny.” I explained how I got to Reading, “Well, why I’m here is a long story. But for now, I'm living at my folks place on 10th Street. I'm taking this course to get a job...while I hone my acting skills. Then it’s onto Broadway” I pointed to her with my cigarette, “You?” Her eyes lit up, “Really? I'm not going to Broadway or anything, but I like being in plays. Love the applause. I'm trying out for "The Sound of Music" tonight. Want to come? It’s so cool. The people are great. You should audition. Have you been in any plays?” as she took another drag. I was surprised. She sounded like an airhead but she likes theater? I answered “I did some shows in High School.” Her eyes got wide. She looked excited, “Well, you'll sooo like the people there. It’s a good way to get a life; other than like, you know, typing.” I took another drag. I thought about it for a sec, I don’t know, man. I mean” my voice trailed off. I took another drag and gave into this new found peer pressure, “Sure, I’ll go.” She clapped, “YAY! It's at 7 pm. tonight. OK, so I don't like KNOW the address, but you can look it up in the yellow pages. It's CPR” She confused me, “It’s what?” She rolled her eyes as though anyone would know this, “Community Players of Reading on 11th.” A Camaro pulled up next to us, “OH! My husband's here. Gotta run! See you then.” As she hopped into the car, I said, “Cool, see you then.” I remember dramatically telling her, “Don't make me drag you to this typing class on the morrow. I shalt find thee and hunt thee down. Now, off with you!” Julie just stared at me like I was nuts, “Um...Not sure what that was, but, um...OK?” Her husband glared at her impatiently. “Bye Phil from Philly. Nice to meet you!” she said waiving from the car as it started to roll out of the parking lot. . “Nice to meet you too, see you soon,” I said. The car rolled five feet and slammed to a stop. Julie popped her head out the window, “Hey, I’m out. Do you have another smoke? Kenny doesn’t smoke.” I fished my cigs out and tossed her one. She grabbed it in mid-air, “Thanks!” I made the long eight block walk home and found Gran vacuuming. “Hi, I’m trying to get up this carpet of cat fur so I can see the carpet”, she said. “Over on the steps can you bring up the bag and put it in the bathroom?” “Sure Gran. What is it?” I asked. “Oh, some soap and shampoo along with a new shower curtain. The other one was getting ratty.” She said loudly over the vacuum cleaner. She turned it off and asked, “So, how did it go?” I said, “It was OK. I met this girl, Julie, who told me about this CPR place? I’m going to try out for a play tonight.” “Julie? You’re already getting dates?” she laughed. I told her, “No, she’s married.” “Oh, so what’s the play?” she asked. I think I got her hopes up about Julie. She kept trying to get signs I’m getting married any day now. “The Sound of Music”, I told her. “Oh, I love that one. I have the album somewhere. When is it?” I told her “7 pm. I just need to find where it is. Julie is a little flighty and told me the address is in the phone book.” “Oh! I know exactly where that is. It’s on this street but about five or six blocks north. I’ll take you”, she said. She was so excited. “Great! Glad you can get me there, I had thoughts of me wandering around for hours trying to find it. I know I’d find it eventually but she didn’t give me much to go on.” I said. That evening at CPR, people gathered around talking. Some talked about the play, others rehearsed monologues. The theater was small; the stage was almost empty except for a ladder, chair, paint cans, and some of last show's leftover props. I nervously looked around. I didn’t know a soul and didn’t like meeting strangers so I stood near the back of the theater for a fast getaway. Just then, Julie walked into the lobby and snuck up behind me. “Hey you, I see you made it!” She gave me a quick hug, “I'll introduce you to some people. However, I’ll warn you; there's a few to watch out for.” I asked her, “Watch out for? What did you invite me to? Is this a satanic cult?” She sighed, “Don't be an idiot. Here, let me introduce you to Sandy.” She pulled me over to the stage manager, a stout woman with short, salt and pepper hair. She wore a light yellow polo shirt with the collar turned up. “Sandy! This is Phil. He'll be trying out today. He's new to Reading, so don't scare him away,” Julie laughed. I really think she thought it was funny. Sandy put out her hand, “Nice to meet you Phil. Say, can you give me a hand?” She handed me two quarts of house paint. I followed her to the back of the stage where we put the cans on the floor near the wall. Sandy said, “See? You're already a member of the cast. So, what part are you trying out for?” I had no clue, I was in the city for all of day, “Well, I don't know. Rolf, I guess? I think I'm too big to be wearing bed curtains around Austria.” Sandy looked me over, “I thought you would go for that role. Probably have to get your hair dyed blonde. Did you fill out an application? There's one over there at the edge of the stage. See, on the left,” she walked off stage with one of the paint cans. “Thanks, nice to meet you”, I said. “You got it um…uh, what’s your name again, sorry”, she said apologetically. I reminded her, “I’m Phil.” Sandy smiled and waved, “Good luck, Phil.” Julie finished her audition form and asked, “Well? Did you fill out the form?” I took a form and said, “OK, OK, I'll fill it out, but I don't have any headshots with me because I'm too cheap and I don’t have a monologue memorized.” She looked at me with doubt, “I see. Boy, you have an excuse for everything. Don't worry. They'll give you something to read.” She came up with a thought, “Hey, by the way. You should have heard what Kenny had to say when I got in the car.” I was confused, “Kenny…oh, yeah right, your husband. So, what did he say? Did you get proposed to again?” Julie rolls her eyes and sighed, “No. He wanted to know who I was talking to. He really gave me the third degree... like I was on some FBI’s most wanted or something.” I whispered to her, “So you told him about our Soviet connections?” She blew past what I just told her and said, “No, but, like I did explain who you were and he got really ticked off. He thought you and me were having an affair. He always thinks I'm fooling around.” I acted shocked, “I don't plan affairs till after the second typing class. Just keep that in mind. I guess he really doesn’t trust you?” Julie agreed, “He doesn't trust me. I mean like, I know I'm pretty and have big boobs, which is why I'm getting cast in this; but... he just makes life difficult for no reason.” I half-heartedly told her, “Well, you'll have to introduce me the next time we meet up. He sounds just delightful.” She said, “Hell no, he'd beat the hell out of me, then you. I'm just going to leave it alone for now.” I had to pry, “He gets rough with you?” Julie back peddled, “Well, it's not like that, really. So, like, if he gets his feelings hurt or takes something the wrong way, he gets a little angry. I'm used to it. He's really not that bad.” Julie spotted the director, “Speaking of relationships, I'll introduce you to Ronnie.” Ron Leitzinger, an upper middle class dentist, comes over. He’s attractive with dark hair and green eyes; a laid back and happy-go-lucky kind of guy. “Hey Julie”, Ron gives her a quick hug, “Who's your friend?” He looks at me with a broad, friendly smile, “Are you here to audition?” Ron extended his arm to shake my hand. Julie said, “Yeah, he's here to ...” Just then I sort of pushed passed Julie with a grin from ear to ear, eagerly shaking Ron’s hand. “I'm Phil. Nice to meet you.” I was instantly infatuated. “We'll, this is the place to be. I heard you tell Sandy you're new to the city?” I was impressed he overheard that, “Sure am.” I can already see he’s into me. “Well, welcome Phil, good luck. If you’ll excuse me; I have to greet these guys over here.” Ron winked at me. He then turned to Julie, “Good to see you…sexy girl,” Ron sauntered across the theater and started chatting with friends. I looked over at Julie, “So, what do you think of him? He's nice, eh?” She stared at me a second, “OK, ok, I'll get you and Ron married. It’s obvious you were falling in love.” I protested, “What, married to a dentist? My family would love that. No, what I mean is this. Is he really a good guy or just a phony douche? He seemed friendly with you; that’s for sure. Do you know him, intimately?” Julie explained, “Well, I guess you could call it ‘friendly’. Like, he was very friendly in our hotel room last week. It was just a "one off" though. I don't think his wife knows about us. Least, I don't think so. So, shhhh.” Julie starts another introduction, “Over here we have Vera. Vera, meet...” As Julie started to introduce me to the Lighting Designer, she’s pushed aside by Wayne. He’s in his late thirties, tall with dyed hair and a goatee. He's as subtle as a brick. Julie looked annoyed. He seemed creepy and eager, “Hi, I'm Wayne Yoder. And who may you be, sir?” “I'm Phil,” I said. Wayne twirled and then bowed before me. Hell, I didn’t know what to make of him. Julie intervened and grabbed me by the arm. She said, “Hi Wayne! Good luck! Gotta get a smoke in before the audition, right Phil?” Julie hurried us down the aisle towards the lobby and whispered in my ear, “He's a perv that thinks he’s some undiscovered designer of men's speedos when in reality he works at the gas company. What a loser. He’s a true and utter fuh-reek! I am like sooo serious. Next, he'll invite you to his place for, like, a "speedo" fitting or something like that...for the love of God, don't go.” Chapter 2 – A Night at the Drive-In Tuesday night, I was sitting on the couch watching TV. Grandpop was sitting next to me in his busted up recliner; cigar in one hand and a beer in the other. We were watching the NBC Nightly News. The reporter cut to another reporter standing in front of the White House, “Today in Washington, President Reagan met with Senate leaders in the Oval Office for a meeting centered on nuclear disarmament talks between the United States and the Soviet Union. Activists from last month's ‘Great Anti-Nuclear March” held in New York’s Central Park were encouraged by the President's actions. We’ll have more news after this brief message.” A cartoon box of dish soap came on the screen. I got up, walked into the kitchen and sat at the table. Gran was finishing the dishes. “So what do you think of the pudding?” Gran asked me. “It was pretty good. I haven't had butterscotch in years.” I said. Gran smiled, “It's good, eh? I found it when I was cleaning; making room for the extra groceries I bought today. I had a premonition, a feeling about you moving in. I found that box of pudding way in the back on the top shelf. You know, come to think of it, I've had that box of Instant Pudding for years. Let's see...I remember I got it for David, day before he went into the Air Force Academy...I forgot I even had it” “OK. So?” after I gulped down the last of her words, I thought a little deeper. I said, “GRAN!! Uncle David went into the academy in 1962!!!” Gran said to me, “Yeah that sounds right”. I was amazed, “That was back when he,” I pointed at the photo of Kennedy, “was in office!! Are you trying to kill me? What the hell Gran!” She turned off the faucet and leaned against the sink looking annoyed. “Watch your tone. It's instant pudding... not cyanide! You're being overly dramatic about nothing. I mean, it looks like you had no problems gobbling it down. You must have enjoyed it, right? Now, do you want the last bit cause I don't want to take up more space in the fridge if I don’t have to.” “I got an idea, how about saving space by throwing it in the trash.” I said. I really ticked her off, “Now, dammit, I spent time making that pudding because I knew you'd like it. Well just forget it. I can't believe you’d really think I'd kill you with pudding.” “It's FREAKIN' TWENTY YEARS OLD!!!” I said. She looked over my shoulder at Granpop, “OK, OK, calm down. You don't want your Grandfather getting upset. He hates getting interrupted from his shows.” Just then, the doorbell rang. I bounded for the front door. Gran called out, “Hey, where are you going?” “That's just Julie from class. She asked me to come over and help with something.” I said. “OK, when will you be back?” I told her, “I don't know, probably an hour? I'm not sure.” Gran was skeptical, “OK, well, call and let me know when you're coming home... better yet, call me when you get there...and leave me her phone number. OK?” “OK, will do. See you later!” I knew I had no plans to do that. She called after me as I was half out the door, “Remember, you have class...don't be too late.” I shot back a hasty response, “Alright, alright...yes, I know I have class.” I locked the front door and spotted the car. Julie was in the driver seat of a yellow, AMC Javelin. I ran around the front of the car and hopped in. Julie smiled, she was happy to see me, “Hey baby! Where to, sexy? Oh, and just so you know I talked to Kenny. He should be home from work by now. I'll introduce you. He's looking forward to meeting you. So don’t worry, I had a long talk with him last night. He’s cool; he apologized for not trusting me. So, don’t worry” I didn’t buy it, “I sure can't wait for that! Thank God we're minutes from an ER.” “He's OK once you get to know him”, she said, “You'll be fine.” She drove us to a nicer area of the city with wide avenues lined with stately Victorian homes. The original residents were management and vice presidents of the factories and mills. We pulled up in front of a large Queen Anne Victorian duplex with a wrap-around porch. I was very impressed, “Wow! Someone's got money, don't they?” “Yeah, well, mom is a pastor with the Church. So between that and the alimony, she makes enough. It used to belong to a lawyer.” I remember looking up at the house and saying to Julie, “So, now that we're here, what do you need help you with?” Julie looks around slyly and slowly pulled out a joint from her cleavage. “This!” My eyes grew wide, “Wow. That's one big joint!” Julie agreed, “I thought it would be a nice break. I got bored and what better way to get baked than with a new friend, right? My brother, Carl, hooks me up with the best in Reading. It's soaked in something too. He told me but, like, I forgot.” Julie was really psyched, “Okay, so, ready?” I was stoked too, “Fire when ready.” She counted off, “Three...two...one” “Ignition, we have lift off!” I said. Julie lit the joint with a Bic. She took a hit and held it in then started coughing hard. She handed it off. I took a hit and started coughing but not as much as her; more practice, I guess. She looked around, “We'll finish this and then go in.” I started getting dizzy, “I'm feeling it already. Wow.” Julie agreed, “it’s amazing stuff, right? So let's go in now. It's getting cool out, and I'm not really dressed for it.” I grabbed it from her, “Stop hogging' it.” “Hold up, one more.” Julie took another quick hit and handed it back to me. I held the joint away from my face and studied it, “Damn, this is amazing. Now that's a good joint.” We stood there smoking in silence. After a few minutes, the pot really kicked in. Julie focused on a man walking in our direction about a block away. She whispered, “Look at that! There's a man staring at us down the block! He’s probably the police. Let's get down on all fours. We should crawl into the house so he doesn't see us!” I said, “Good idea, Julie, got it.” We were both down on all fours and climbed up the sidewalk to her front door. Then we stood up and hurried into the house. I remember the inside was just as amazing as it was outside. I was awed by the woodwork, the stained glass, the whole luxurious feel of this quasi-mansion. A set of carved oak pocket doors close off the living room from the other parts of the house. The room had Moroccan blue shag carpeting. The furniture was French inspired and wrapped in protective plastic to keep it stain free. The room was dark with only the light coming from a large combination TV/stereo/ record cabinet. We were both on our knees staring slack-jawed at the TV; looking at it as though it was the most interesting item on the planet. The nightly news was still on. The anchor introduced the next segment, “And more from our correspondent at Eastern's main headquarters in New York.” The view changed to a reporter on a Manhattan street while union members shouted and marched in front of a mid-century, glass office building. The correspondent at the scene said, “Connie, the protests were escalated today as striking Eastern Airlines' flight attendants continue a third day of picketing. Their demands include paid...” Julie leaned forward and turned off the TV; the knob clicked, the screen went black except for a little white speck of light in the center. She took a candle from the top of the TV and lit it; making a dim, soft glow on our faces. She looked at me seriously, “Hey, Phil?” I stared at her, stoned out of my brain, “What?” (Julie takes a few seconds, still staring at me) “PHIL?” “WHAT JULIE, WHAT?” I said. Julie said, “Quiet…you’ll wake up mom. Phil, what's a Flight Attendant?” Julie was staring a hole in my face. I couldn’t believe the question. I looked back and stifled a laugh, “Really? You don't know what a…? OK, think about it. What do you think a Flight Attendant might be doing on a plane? Now Julie, look at me. Think really hard.” I said. She took a moment, “Um...helping the co-pilot?” “That happens after they land.” I said with a smirk. “Come on, Phil! Seriously! What's a Flight Attendant? Tell ME!!!” I started laughing my ass off. I couldn’t help it. I started rolling on my side laughing so hard it hurt; tears were coming out of my eyes. Then I felt bad, I hurt Julie’s feelings. She said, “Oh my God! OK, like forget it. I just asked a stupid question. It's not even like that funny.” I tried to calm her down and apologize, “OK, OK, I'm sorry...sorry, sorry, sorry...Hey, by the way, where's Kenny?” Julie didn’t even acknowledge my question. Just then, she looked as though she'd been hit by a lightning bolt; a thought popped into her head. “Hey! Let's go the Starlite Drive-in!” I answered her back while mimicking her Valley Girl accent, “What? Like you mean, like now?” She was amped up, “Sure. We can catch the late show if we leave now. I'll call Robin. I've known her for years, since grade school. She can drive us! She's great. You'll love her.” A few minutes later, we both sat on the stone wall surrounding her front yard. It’s was around 9 and we see Robin who’s this average, slightly overweight woman in her early twenties. She waved to Julie as she walked across the street towards us. Her brown hair in a ponytail, she wore the mall’s version of sexy. She had this little nervous laugh and a grating, squeaky voice. Julie asked her, “Why didn't you just drive over?” “Oh, my mom drove me. She doesn't like your mom, so she dropped me off a block away. She was going to bible study anyway.” she explained. Julie rolled her eyes. “Robin, this is Phil. He's in my class.” “Hey Robin” She squeaked out a “Hi Phil” Julie asked sweetly, “Robin, since you're not stoned, like some of us, would you do us like the biggest favor in the whole wide world? Puh-leeeeze?” Robin answered her warily, “Sure! What favor? Because you're high, I can tell. That's why you're asking me.” Julie laid out the plan, “Well, I thought it would be cool to catch a drive-in since Phil is new to Reading. Sounds great, eh?” Robin just stared at her. “But I just got my license back! Mom will be super mad at me. The last time she took my license away, I couldn't drive for like two months! And besides, mom's at bible study. I can't just steal her car, duh!” “You can drive MY car!” Julie sensed Robin wanted to say “No”, but in a typical, passive aggressive, “Robin” way. Julie threw up her arms and poured on the guilt trip. Robin was the wet blanket set out to destroy our fun times, “OK, I can see it on your face. OK. Forget it. Just thought you'd think it's a cool idea. But, guess not. OK then, see ya Robin.” Robin really did want to go but wasn’t sure the movie was worth breaking the rules over. She knew she wasn’t any kind of rebel. She was a good girl. That’s what her mom always told her. “What's the movie?” she squeaked. "Massacre of Innocence", Julie said temptingly, “Come on, I know you want to see it.” Robin was sold, “Oh, wow. My Mom would never let me watch that one.” “So? What's stopping you? You're a big girl now, right? You've come a long way, baby. Put the pedal to the iron and let's go.” Robin hemmed and hawed, Finally, she blurted out, “OK...let's see it. But, I gotta call my mom first. I gotta let her know where I am.” Julie got annoyed, “And whatcha gonna say, Robin? ‘Mom, I'm driving my two, ‘stoned-out-of-their-mind’ friends to see 'Massacre of Innocence' at the Starlight Drive-in?’ Robin... I'm so serious! Don't fuck this up. Not like the last time when you lost your license.” Robin thought, then slowing grinned, “I'll tell her...um...tell her... I'm on a date! That'll work! She'll be over the moon! I'll tell her it's a date with…with…Carl.” Robin was in love with him. He didn’t know who she was. “Robin, my brother is NOT into you! Carl only goes for strippers. Come on, Robin! We've been over this like a zillion times.” Julie was getting more impatient with her. Robin’s smile fades, “Oh, yeah. Well I was, you know...just kidding.” Julie looked her over, “God knows you are NO stripper. But if Carl was into you, you'd be stripping and pole dancing at the Till-Two Club.” After a 25 minute drive through the countryside, we turned off route 422 and found an open parking space at the drive in. It was a popular film so finding a space was a challenge. We all sat silently in Julie’s car watching the movie. A metal movie speaker hung off the driver’s side door, sputtering out lines from the film. Julie and I finished another joint a half hour ago; even Robin was feeling a contact high from the fumes. I looked at the screen confused. Julie asked me, “What’s up, what’s wrong?” I remember looking at her slowly and deliberately, “I don't get this movie. For one, it's black and white. And two, it keeps throwing up that screen that looks like a TV with no reception. Maybe this drive-in needs a bigger TV antenna?” Julie looked at Robin then at me, “What do you mean? The movie's IN color.” “Wait, what? It's black and white.” I said. “It's in COLOR!” they answered in unison. Robin started getting nervous, “Julie, what's wrong with him?” I got panicked and started losing it, “Oh My GOD! JULIE! Am I going BLIND? What did your brother put in that stuff?? Guys, I think I may have to go to the ER. Oh my God!” Chapter 3 – The Scarab The next day, before Mrs. Knoblach’s class begins, I sat with my head on the desk. I told Julie, “Man, last night was crazy. I'm still not sure if I'm high or not. I was almost late for class. Now, Gran's on the warpath. I had to get out of the house as soon as humanly possible. She’s really ticked off. This morning, when I walked in the door, she's like, ‘Do you know how late it is? Why didn't you call? Did you even consider me? I called all the hospitals. I thought you were dead’!" “She laid into you for being out so late?” “No Julie, no, she's upset my new fall line won't make it to fashion week.” She didn’t pick up on the sarcasm. I said, “YES, she's miffed about last night. It was so bad, I had to promise her not to do something stupid like going out late again or I'd have to move back with my bitch of a mother.” Julie pulls a small blue bottle out of her purse and starts doing her nails. “OK, so now my turn...there I was, passed out... like on the front lawn, kay? And so Kenny walks up. He sees the car parked half way sticking out in the street the door still open and the keys in the ignition. It’s a wonder it didn’t get hit. He's yelling at me, like ‘JULIE! Get up! Get up!’ I'm like, ‘Kenny, where am I? Help me up!’ We start shouting back and forth. The neighbors start yelling at us to keep it down. Next thing I know, he starts accusing me of screwing around with YOU! So, I said ‘Kenny, baby! Phil is gay!’ You've got nothing to freak out about, kay? He's G-A-Y!" “You told him I was G-A-Y? Why the hell did you do that? If I had any doubts about being a crime stat...” Julie goes on, “It's OK. Like I mean, I don't think you are actually gay, but I think it would be funny.” I looked at her and said, “Funny?” “Yeah, like I can picture you. You're at the Scarab, the gay bar on Franklin. Then some big dude asks you to dance. You’re about to wet your pants. Made me laugh, but other people around me thought I was nuts. Because, you know, I was laughing to myself, ya know? “I think the word you’re looking for is ‘insane’. OK enough about the news from last night/morning. Are you just about finished doing your nails? You're supposed to be typing.” Julie blows on her nails and presents them to me for inspection, “Well? How do they look? She’s grinning from ear to ear and said, “I’m a working girl…ready to type.” I looked them over, “Yep, Barbie's magic typewriter playset.” I finished class, got home and helped Gran with the laundry, trying my best to show how instantly responsible I’d become because I sure as hell didn’t want to go back to Philly. Afterwards, I was in bed listening to WEEU am radio but I turned it off after nothing but commercials. Nothing’s worse than plastic, over processed music for the masses and commercials about car dealerships and heating contractors. I took a Duran Duran cassette from my suitcase and pushed the cassette into the cassette player. I hit “forward” till I got to “New Moon on Monday” and cranked it up. I started thinking about the Scarab. I couldn’t’ get it out of my head. An actual gay bar! Should I risk going to hell and see what the place is all about anyway? I didn’t dare tell anyone where I was going or how much I was dying to see it. In those days, when you came out, a lot of times you came out alone. I thought back on all the years in Catholic school and imagined this is it, THE moment; this is what sends a person to hell forever. However, I put that out of my mind; the need was too great, especially for a seventeen year old. I was actually going to meet other guys that like other guys. I never knew anyone in Philly who thought like I did, though I had my suspicions. I was sure there were, especially some of the priests at North Catholic, but no one that I knew for sure was gay. I looked down at my sneakers. I can’t just go looking like a mess. I decided to go to the mall. There’s still $80 I stole from mom in my wallet. When I stepped off the bus and into the mall, it smelled of chlorinated fountain water and brand new merchandise. The mall opened in the late 60’s and still looked pretty much the same as it did on opening day. The last time I saw it was Christmas over two years ago. It was even more depressing with Christmas decorations. I decided on Chess King, the closest store by the entrance. I found some clothes that were affordable and looked somewhat OK. I wouldn’t be caught dead looking preppy, that’s not who I was at the time. I wanted to look like my MTV idols. So, I found a black suit jacket with thin lapels and huge shoulders. I tried it on and rolled up the sleeves. Sold! Next, I picked out a pair of black and white checkered converse. Then I found a skinny red satin tie with black piano keys running vertically down the side. I was all set! Even if I didn’t find the love of his life or get laid, I wouldn’t be seen in clothes that are just ordinary. How do you get laid if you don’t stand out? It’s 10 p.m., practice for the “Sound of Music” ended an hour ago. Before leaving the theater, I walked into the men’s room and put on my new outfit. I was all ready for a trip to the Scarab. I had that song “Never Say Never” by Romeo Void stuck in my head. Earlier, I opened the Yellow Pages and looked up the Scarab’s address on Franklin Street and committed it to memory. I was half block away when I saw what must have been the entrance based on the house numbers. The bar was a three story building which used to be a corner store. The brick exterior had no markings; nothing gave away what’s inside. The street was deserted. Not one car passed by. Next to the Scarab was a boarded up warehouse. The neighborhood was not the greatest. As I get closer, I felt my stomach tense up. I stood there and took a deep breath. "This is a really stupid idea", as I wondered, for a minute, just how silly the whole idea was. Hell, I’m not twenty-one. I just recently got a driver’s license and enrolled in the draft (thank God there wasn’t any wars at the time). “You know what?” I thought, “I should just do myself a favor and just walk home.” Suddenly I was jarred back to earth when the front door flew open and a drunken Drag Queen almost knocked me over. As she stumbled onto the street she turned and screamed, “BITCH ...YOU ARE DEAD TO ME!!!” As she stumbled down Franklin, I quickly grabbed the door handle just before it slowly closes shut. I walked in and looked around. The place was only partially full. It was dimly lit with the exception of a small dance floor. The bartender was a tough looking woman. The DJ started playing 70's dance music. There were several well-dressed men dancing on the floor; all different types of guys. The room was long and narrow and the bar ran the length of the room with tables and chairs across from it. I could hardly believe I was really here! I was nervous as hell and had no inkling what to do next. Patrons from every subset of the LGBT community within a 30 miles radius seemed to at the Scarab that night. Two lesbians were playing pool. There were drag queens, leather queens, and people of all kinds drinking and enjoying the night. Next to me, the DJ was tall, with a bright red, spiky hair and sunglasses. I gathered my nerves and walked up to the bar. I caught the eye of the bartender and told her, “I'll have a Coke” The bartender debated whether or not to serve me. Finally she said, “OK girl. Here you go. That's a buck.” I handed her a dollar. She placed the coke on the bar’s wet surface. “Here you go.” Then she leveled with me. She leaned forward and said, “You're underage, so a coke is the right choice. But once Brian, the owner, comes in...You gotta get the hell outta here, Kah-peesh?” I was terrified, I answered in a barely audible “Sure.” Out of nowhere comes Wayne Yoder. I could smell the beer on his breath as he talked. “Phil! What are YOU doing here? Scandalous!” He leaned forward, slurring his words, “I had a feeling about you.” He reaches around and grabbed my ass. Just then, the bartender snapped her fingers at me and points, motioning to a patron at the end of the bar. “Hey, Girlie, that guy bought you a drink.” I was getting a wink from some guy at the end of the bar. He’s tall, 50, balding, with a sharp, pointy nose. He had a nervous tick making him appear like a chicken pecking for food. I looked at the man, and then turned to Wayne, “OK, Wayne, I gotta go. See you at practice.” I took a few steps towards the door. But first, I spun around to face Wayne, “Next time you grab my ass, I'm breaking your fingers off at the knuckles, understand? Oh, and you never saw me here.” Wayne nods. “I've got mafia connections in Philly who would just love to take a flaming bitch like you for a ride. Nice seeing you, Wayne.” Phil guzzles the chicken man's free beer and heads outside. Wednesday, there wasn’t show practice, so I decided to stay home and watch Hill Street Blues instead of attempting another stab at the Scarab. Even though the first experience was bad, I couldn’t write it off. There were some really hot guys. The memory got me so worked up, I had to spend some extra time in the bathroom jerking it before going to work. After getting the courage to sneak in the bar the first time, I wanted more. Thursday, after practice, I snuck into the Scarab again. I told Gran we’d be at the theater longer than usual to help set building. Of course, that wasn’t the exact truth at all. This time when I walked into the bar, there was a thick layer of smoke hanging in the air like LA smog. Depeche Mode was blasting out of the speakers. Taking a seat at one of the tables, I tried my best to look nonchalant. When the bartender spied me sitting there, she whistles at me like a dog. She pointed and motions for me, and the couple at the next table, to get out. Others leave as well since they're also underage and know the drill. One of them, Sharon, was stylish, wore ruby stud earrings and at five foot, seven inches tall, she looked amazing. She had short, feathered hair which was parted on the side. On her jeans jacket, there was a cluster of buttons with various punk bands and funny sayings. The right one had a large rhinestone brooch. Her mini skirt was black leather. Sharon was with her girlfriend, Kim, who was twenty one at the time. Kim wore khakis, white sneakers, a white men's dress shirt (unbuttoned at the collar) and a black tie. Out on the sidewalk, we stood facing the front of the bar we’d just been tossed out of. Sharon smiled and shrugged at me, then gives Brian the middle finger, as he shuts the door. She laughed at him. Sharon looked at me, “Hey, gotta light?” I reached into my jacket pocket, pulled out a book of matches and handed them over. Sharon noticed my ring, “Scorpio, right?” I didn’t get what she was saying, “What?” “Your sign, it’s Scorpio? I noticed your ring. It's my birthstone.” “You are correct. What's your birthdate?” “November 5th”, I said. “Mine's the 9th.” Kim stepped in, “Excuse me dude. Hey Sharon, gotta go babe.” Kim kissed Sharon goodbye then took a step, pulled Sharon back over for a bigger, more passionate kiss as Sharon feigns fainting. Sharon waves “See ya later, stud.” Sharon turned to me, “Well, that's my exit too. Need a ride? I got class at CCBC tomorrow and need to get up early. Don't know how that will happen but...” I said, “No thanks. I'm OK walking. I have to be there tomorrow as well; typing class.” “Really? Cool. Hey, I know this sounds crazy especially since I just met you. Are you looking' for a job? Cause I’m... correction, was, working in the Admissions Office. I had to quit because my course load this semester is really crazy. This is a busy time of the year and I feed bad leaving Janice to do all the work. I just don't have time to do both school and work. So, if you’re interested, I can put in a good word and help you get in. You’re not some serial killer, are you? ” I looked down, “It’s the tie isn’t it?” She laughed, “That’s it. The tie” I joked, “Well, while the police haven’t found me or the bodies yet, that gives me time to start a job in the Admissions Office. But seriously, Sharon, all I can say is ‘wow’ that would be a huge help. Thanks!” She walked backwards towards her car while looking my way and snapped her fingers in the air. She pointed her hand at me like she's holding a gun, “OK. Tomorrow morning, before 11 a.m., ask for Janice Switzer.” “Thanks a lot! I'll be there.” “Don't mention it.” She steps into her ‘75 lime green Honda Civic, beeps twice and speeds down Franklin Street. I couldn’t believe my luck. Chapter 4 – The Pontiac Ride After class the next day, I took the elevator to the first floor and stepped into the Admissions Office which was quiet and empty. There’s a small portable radio on the front desk playing Gerry Rafferty’s “Baker Street”. The walls were light blue and a large fern sat atop a filing cabinet. Next to the cabinet was a desk with family photos. There was a new IBM desktop computer with an attached rectangular box next to it. A translucent plastic cover protected the boxy monitor. Two chairs set at a table opposite the computer. The table was loaded with piles of envelopes and papers. There’ were two bland, faded poster prints above the table. I spied a woman in the next room, “Hi, I'm looking for Janice Switzer?” Janice was pretty, in her early thirties with blue eyes and blonde curly hair. She looked professional, wearing pleated white pants, a light blue, floral print shirt and a thin pink sweater draped over her shoulders. “That's me. How can I help you? If you're here to apply for the fall semester, applications are over there.” I was caught off guard for a minute, “Yeah, but no; I was wondering if you have a job? Sharon sent me. She used to work here?” “Sharon? Great! I'm so backlogged. Glad she made the effort to get a replacement.” She looked me over, “You’re a student here?” I stammered, “Well, yeah, kind of…you see…” Janice was in a hurry, “Well, here's an application, but it's more a formality. We're coming up on open enrollment and I really need to get these mailings out.” Janice handed me a clipboard and an application from her desk drawer. I started filling it out. She looked around and then set her gaze on the table with the stacks of papers. I felt obligated to provide some credentials, “I'm finishing a typing class, so I think that would...” “Let's have you finish that paperwork later.” Janice pointed to the job application she just handed me. I put it down on the desk. “I have somethings you can to start on. Oh, and by the way, you're hired. Yay!” I was excited! A job! I asked, “Great! When do I start?” She looked at everything in disarray with the pending deadline, “No time like the present. I'll need you to take one page from each pile there, staple them. Then put each bunch in one of the large envelopes. Oh, and this is MY computer. It's new and my boss doesn't know how it works. Tell me if you see him futzing around with it.” “Well you don’t have to worry. I have no idea how to use a computer”, I told her. Janice added, “It's expensive as all get out, so please don't touch it.” I nodded in agreement and noticed the pictures on Janice’s desk. “And who are these guys?” Janice beamed, “That's my husband, David, and my two kids, Aaron and Kristen.” I told her, “It's a nice looking family.” “I love them but there are times when I want to sell the kids to the circus. They can get so rambunctious.” Janice changed the topic, “So...that's the family. Now let's crank these out and get them mailed.” After work, I used the pay phone in the cafeteria to call Gran. The cafeteria is empty except for workers cleaning in the back. “Yeah, I know. Just like that. So I work every other…the pay? Minimum wage, but hey, it's a job, right?” Someone tapped me on the shoulder. “Hold on, someone else needs to use the phone. OK, will do. Thanks Gran. See you then. Love you too.” I turned to face the person who tapped my shoulder; it was Sharon. “Janice told me you're hired! Congratulations!” she said. “Thanks Sharon. I appreciate the good word.” She had an idea, “So, I got an idea, how about celebrating at the Scarab Sunday night? You can meet my friends. Sound good?” I was hesitant, “Um...I don't know. Remember the last time? It didn't go so well.” She laughed, “Don't worry. On Sundays the place is packed. Bryan won't notice we're there till near closing. I mean, I hope he doesn't. Any-who...he’s usually drunk by that time” That convinced me, “OK, I'll go. What time?” She said, “10 p.m. See you there! Later dude!” I suspected all her friends would be women. It was still exciting to go, even if it meant hanging out with girls and always getting put out on the street. That night, I stood onstage at Community Players of Reading. It was 9: 30 p.m. The stage had half built set pieces, power tools and saw horses pushed up against the back of the stage. Ron was directing a scene. I was standing next to Glenn who was playing Max. Glenn was a short, balding salesman in his sixties with a mischievous smile. He was the cast's "class clown". He spoke with a tough Philly accent. On the other side of me was Edna in a nun’s costume. She’s was also in her sixties, very well spoken; she definitely had diction lessons. She wore a pair of sandals with rhinestones peeking out of the bottom of her costume. Glenn told her, “Edna, I have to say. That nun's outfit is turning me on; especially the sandals.” They knew each other for years and were the closest of friends. They’d done over fifty shows together. She shot back, “Really? Jewish women in nun's outfits do it for you?” He looked at her and in a stage whisper, “Just don't tell my wife.” At this point, Ron cut them off and tapped the back of a chair with his pen. “OK people, there's just a few weeks till opening. Let's focus. So, Edna, let's continue with your next line.” Edna starts the line, "Reverend mother, I have to..." Glenn interjected, “I protest! I'm NOT your Reverend mother...or father. Edna, get those thoughts out of your head.” The stage filled with laughter, we all cracked up. Edna fired one back, “I love when you try to convey sentiment with that plebeian accent. You're like an Austrian who's lived in the Bronx since the age of 10.” Ron had enough, “Stop! Hold up. Edna you're reading from the wrong paragraph. We're not on the next paragraph...so why are you on that paragraph? Why?” Glenn made the situation worse, “Ya know, Edna, for a judge's wife, you're pretty ditzy.” She looked at him like some insect, “Oh, dear, sweet, senile Glenn; you're jealous that I'm a cultured and intelligent woman. It’s obvious you can't keep up with my superior intellect and acting skills. Now mind your tongue or I’ll have you arrested for vulgarity.” Glenn asked, “What's vulgar? Having impure thoughts talking to a Jewish nun while my wife is at home?” She explained, “My dear, anytime you're on the stage purporting to be an actor; it's the purest form of vulgarity there is. I'm sure I don't have to tell your wife that.” I loved watching them go at it. I thought they were more entertaining than the show would ever be. Ron was just about to lose it, “Enough! Look, people, you've got to start pulling this together. So far, all I hear is ticking because this is a bomb in the making. So, Edna, for God's sake, memorize your lines.” Glenn can’t resist, “Yeah, Edna. Memorize.” Ron turned to him and said, “Glenn, stop it. Just for the record, Edna’s right. You need to work on your accent. No one will believe you ever set foot in Europe.” Edna sneered at Glenn, “Peasant!” Ron looked at the time, “OK, 7 p.m., Tuesday, Don’t Be Late” Glenn catches up with me as I was hurrying down the aisle. “Hey Phil, want to join us at Pomeroy's Diner? It's practically a tradition. We all have fun gossiping about the director.” Ron gave him a look. I said, “Sounds good, but I have some people I gotta meet. Later Glenn, you too Ron, see you on Tuesday.” 10 pm that Sunday at the Scarab, the DJ blared Grace Jones' “Pull up To the Bumper” as Sharon, Kim and I sat at a table. The bar was packed. Sharon stood up, pointed to her friend across the dance floor. “Hey Marisol, Yo, can you get us three over here!” She sat back down with six empty beer bottles in front of her. A large black woman, Delphine (everyone knew her as Del), entered the bar. She walked up wearing biker ring boots and a plaid shirt with the sleeves ripped off. Her head was shaved bald down to the scalp. Del said with mock surprise, “Why Sharon Rittenhouse! so great to see you here. I didn’t know you'd be out tonight.” Del stared daggers at Kim. Del and Kim dated a few months back until Del found Sharon in bed with Kim. “And this is...what is it, Laurinda? Leslie? Lecherous?”, She turns to Sharon, Really? THIS is who you left me for? For lecherous?” Kim is boiling mad and gave her own smart remark, “Del...mmmm...what's ‘Del’ short for? Farmer in the-? That it? You country, Del? Is y’all country?” “OK bitch, let's end this in the back.” Del stomped into the backroom with Kim following her, “Think you can take me?” Kim stopped for a second to tell Sharon, “Get ready for the funeral, THIS bitch isn’t gonna make it past midnight.” Kim kisses Sharon on the cheek, “Be back in a minute, Sharon; time to take out the trash,” as Kim stormed off the dance floor. Sharon trailed behind them, “Come ‘on you two! Man, this sucks. Delphine, Kim, Chill out!” I sat back down and heard laughing by the DJ booth. I saw a girl I came to know as Gina in a back outfit with Goth make-up. She came to the Scarab with her mom, Ruth. I noticed Gina’s oxblood, Doc Martens and plastic baby doll earrings covered in red splattered nail polish. Gina was talking to the DJ, “So I grab the phone and tell him, ‘I AM a witch. I put a curse on you for crank calling us. You EVER call again and I'll have demons take your soul to hell.’ The DJ bursts out laughing. Gina went on, “Then he's like ‘um...uh...sorry... I didn't mean it! Don't take my soul!’ Guess what this loser does next? He hangs up on me! Da noive a dat guy, eh?! And get this, Petri was listening in on the downstairs phone the whole time. He’s down there laughing his ass off, almost gave us away.” I overheard the conversation started cracking-up. I get up the nerve to walk over, “Hi, I'm Phil, I just gotta say…I was just listening in. You’re hilarious!” Gina turned to me and laughed, “Why hey there Phil! I'm Gina.” She shook my hand furiously as she looked me up and down, “Wow…cool threads buddy! Is Sears having a sale on geek-wear?” She continued, “I can't tell you how overJOYed I am to meet you.” The smile fades as I felt I was going to melt into nothingness. I said, “OK, well...sorry to interrupt.” She laughed and grabbed me by the shoulders “Not so fast, get back here” then blurted out a rapid fire succession of questions like an FB I Agent “Where you from? What are you doing here? How long have you let your mom dress you and why is she employed at Craft Barn?” Gina doubles over on her stool in laughter. I started laughing and answered her like a character from an old 40’s gangster movie “Gotta tell ya doll, you’re a riot. Ya hear what I’m sayin’? YOU lady are a gawd-dam riot!” Gina took my face and dramatically fake slapped me. I answered her questions. with a deadpan expression, “Where I’m from? ...Philly...What am I doing? I'm looking to get laid” Then I looked at her and said “...and my mom died a year ago.” Gina stared at me a few seconds, waiting to be let in on the joke. She started a sincere apology, “You're kidding right? Because if you're serious, that's really awful.” There’s a silence between us for a few seconds. Gina feels bad, “Oh God! I’m really sorry, really. God, I feel so bad now. I feel like hell.” I smiled at her, got in her face with eyes wide open and said, “She's not dead, just wish she was” Gina laughed, this time slapping my face for real, “Spoken like a true Queer-ling” She raises her voice loudly and dramatically to get her mom’s attention. “Well, I sure don't wish MY mom was dead! OH! Look! She just happens to be here right now! Ta-da! Queerling, let me introduce you to MY mom, Ruth.” Ruth turned to me, “Nice to meet you. Um…” I said, Phil, My name is Phil. She tapped the man next her, “This is my co-worker, Kerry.” Kerry was a handsome, middle age man with a porn stash. He turned and looked at me, shook my hand and said, “Having a good time?” I said, “Sure. Um, nice to meet you guys”. Kerry winked at me, “Nice to meet you too Phil”. He told Gina, “Be nice to your new friend.” Gina rolled her eyes, “You know I will Kerry, I mean, Mother darling.” She then turned her back to Ruth, faced me and mouthed the words "she's such a bitch". Ruth says, “Hey, hey, hey! We don’t talk like that Gina”. Gina gives her a fake smile. “How did you know I was saying that?” she asked. Ruth said, “I could see you in the mirror”. Gina turned to me and laughed, “Sheesh! Get a load-uh her!” She continues grilling me, “Soooo, aren't you just a ‘Wisenheimer Schmidt’. Well, Phil...That is IF that's your REAL name... why not come out tonight. You should be familiar with coming out by now.” I had no ideal what she’s talking about, “Out for what?” Gina got excited telling me, “we’re driving to Kenhorst...aka ’rich-bitch land’. We're going to the house where that guy cranked me. We’re going to re-arrange his lawn ornaments. It’s stupid shit AND yet oddly satisfying.” Gina takes a moment and looked me up and down then bellowed loudly, “Wait just a damn minute. There’s no way we can take you because A) you might wet your pantaloons! And B) Cops will spot you in that Sears close-out, bargain basement outfit and get suspicious.” I really wanted to join in. It sounded fun, “Cool, yeah, sure I'll go. Sure. But first I have to pee.” Gina blurts out, “Oh SURE, you gotta ‘PEE’. Listen here, bitch, we're leaving soon, so don't BLOW anyone in the men's room; if ya hear what Am-uh sayin,” as she poked me in the ribs. I leaned forward and yelled in her ear, “I’ll be right BACK!” In the men’s room, I stood at the urinal. Next to me was Conrad, this tall, dark haired guy in his early twenties. He looked like he stepped out of a Benneton magazine with his boat shoes, striped cotton shirt and tight white jeans. He noticed me and stared. “Hi, I love your eyes” he said. He leaned against the wall and faced me. Conrad looked down, slowly packed his dick back in his jeans and pulled up the zipper in slow motion. I thought I was going to pass out. I stuttered out, “Th-thanks, I'm happy to...” Conrad slowly moved forward and kissed me. I wasn’t expecting that all. I couldn’t believe what just happened. But, wasn’t that what I came for in the first place? Conrad said, “We should go back to my place for a beer. I'm only a few houses down.” I slowly answered him, “When?” Conrad takes a beat, “How about now?” I followed him out of the men’s room, hoping to avoid Gina, Sharon or Kim as we stepped out onto the street. The thumping music could practically be felt a block away. I walked slowly, following Conrad who stumbled and almost fell. He got his balance and continued on. I couldn’t take it, I grabbed Conrad and forcefully started kissing him, pushing him against a brick wall. I grabbed him by the shoulders and went in for another kiss. We stood there kissing in the humid, drizzling rain. Conrad pushed me off and said, “I’m on the second floor, let's go up.” He crossed the street, unlocked the door to his run-down, two story, brick row house. As Conrad headed up the steps and out of sight, I noticed my shoe lace was untied. I yelled out, “I'll be there in a minute, gotta tie my sneakers.” My heart was racing, I felt like I was going to explode. I quickly tied the laces and just as I crossed the street, I passed out. Marisol told Kim happened next. She was working the bar and just came out for a break. She said it happened so fast. My eyes went into a blank robotic stare, like in a trance. I fell to the ground and start jerking, twisting uncontrollably in the middle of the street. My face was contorted and pushing into the gravel. I slowly stopped jerking as foam and blood started oozing from the side of my mouth. Laying chest down, my face was turned towards a fast approaching car. My dazed face registered no reaction as the car's headlights illuminate me. There was a loud sound of tires squealing. A woman in the distance screamed, "HEY, HEY, HEY...STOP! STOP!" Just a few minutes before all this, Del told me a few weeks later what she members happened that night. She was getting pushed out the back door of the Scarab by Iggy, her roommate. Iggy, I learned was 21, handsome, tall, and lanky with brown, puppy dog eyes. He had jet black hair, dressed in Doc Martens boots, black tank top with zippers all over and black jeans. His hair is so teased up it looks like he had a run in with a light socket. Iggy unlocked his rusted out, primer gray, ‘67 Pontiac Bonneville. “Del, it's not worth losing your job over. She's moved on, you should too. You're one of my best friends and I don't want to lose my work, slash best soul-mate, over some ex-lover. She’s not worth it and you know that Del” Del sits still for a minute, takes a deep sigh and slaps the dashboard. “OK, over and out!” she said, “Let's get outta here, Cap'n.” Iggy laughed, “You know, if the guys in the factory heard you call me that, I'd really have a hell-on-earth to deal with.” She smiled back, “Whatever, let's get the fuck outta here”. Iggy pulled the gear shift forward as his land yacht pulled out of the parking lot. He turned to Del, “Look, I sort of like you calling me that. It's just that I-”. Del slapped him on the arm and screamed, "HEY, HEY, HEY...STOP! STOP!" Iggy pumped the breaks and shouted, “Oh My God, Oh MY GOD!!! Where the fuck did he come from??” The sound of the car’s brakes reverberated off the ally walls as the wheels locked up and kept skidding towards my face; stopping just a few inches from crushing my skull. Del told me how Iggy started panicking and maniacally freaking out, “OH SHIT! OH SHIT, SHIT, SHIT!!!” “Iggy, let's check him” “What do we do, Del?” Del put her hand on Iggy's shoulder and in a calm voice instructed him, “We get the hell out of the car, calmly. Then, we see if we can help, right?” She took a breath, “Let's go.” Iggy stared ahead in full terror mode. Not moving an inch. She turned to him and shouted, “Right IGGY?” Iggy snapped back to reality, “Yeah, let’s check him.” He threw the car into park, engine still running, head lights on. Iggy sheepishly called out, “You OK there buddy? Iggy stepped out of the car and stood over me, “Hey, you alright?” Del noticed I was still breathing. “Iggy, I know this guy. I just met him tonight.” Del asked me, “Dude, we're going to get you to a hospital. OK? What's your name?” I looked at them dazed and answered slowly, “I'm Phil, Philip. I'm Phil. I'm OK.” “Alright then,” Iggy responded. He looked at Del miming the question of what to do next but then panicked. “OK Del, let’s get out of here, time to go. Someone from the bar will call an ambulance, if they haven’t already. We should leave, like now.” Iggy looked over at the group of five onlookers that came to check out what happened. “So you want to just leave him in the street?” Del couldn’t believe his dumb-ass answer, “Iggy! Everyone just witnessed what happened. Now listen to me. We can rush him to the ER ourselves or we can wait till the COPS and ambulance get here. Do YOU want to risk being taken in for questioning or probably spending a night in jail? Iggy, let’s get him to the hospital now. Everyone is going to think we ran him down. Try explaining that to the cops.” Iggy looked back at me. Del became insistent, “Iggy, NOW!” Iggy looked at me, “Yeah, we see that you’re OK, buddy”. He hung his head, trying to decide what to do next. Iggy said, “We gotta get him to a hospital. Looks like he may have had a seizure” He focused on me, “OK guy, we're going to get you some help” as Iggy took my wrist he told Del, “Pulse is good”. Iggy asked, “Phil, can you tell me what year it is?” I looked at him confused, “What year? “ Iggy looked at Del then back to me, “Yeah, year, what year is this?” I slowly answered, “1982.” “Good,” Iggy said. Then he asked “Who's the President?” “It’s that bastard, Reagan.” Iggy said to Del, “OK, Del open the back door” Iggy turned to me, “OK Phil, we're going to help you up. Can you stand up for me?” “Sure,” I said slurring my words. Everything was foggy. I felt the sting of the parts of my face that hit the gravel. If I didn’t stop to tie my shoes, I would have fallen much faster and probably got a concussion; still not sure if I had one at the time. I bit my tongue so hard; I could taste my own blood. Iggy said to Del, “You grab one arm, I'll get the other”. Iggy asked me, “OK, ya ready? One…two…three! Up, up, up” I was shaky and winced in pain from the part of my tongue I chewed up and the muscle spasms all over my body after they tensed up like cement. Iggy brushed the gravel off my face. “There you go, boy”, Iggy and Del helped guide me to the back passenger seat of the car. I got in and lied down. Then I asked, “Where am I going?” Iggy quickly hopped in the driver seat and looked back, “We're taking you to the hospital” Del told me, “You're going to be OK now, buddy.” She turned to Iggy, “I think he's drunk, but the ER can figure that part out”. Iggy answered nervously, “Not sure; could be booze, drugs, or ‘who-the-hell-knows-what’.” I started to protest, “I'm not drunk or do drugs but,” I was so confused, “where am I again?” “You're in a car, Phil. You're in my car. Just hold tight, close your eyes and rest,” Iggy said, “Damn it Del.” “IGGY! Listen to me… It's going to be OK. We're not far from St. Joe’s.” Iggy shot back, “What the fuck just happened, eh? Why me, eh? You said ‘Let's just go out so I can get her off my mind.’ Why did I let you talk me into this? No, no, no, no better yet, why did I listen to you? I was just gonna kick back with a few brews, watch Fantasy Island.” Iggy turned the corner onto 11th Street. The car fishtailed on the wet surface as the huge Pontiac flew around the corner; the bald tires didn’t help. Iggy grabbed the wheel to straighten the car out, holding on as tight as he could. Del yelled at him, “Listen to me! You're going to be fine, but WE won't be if you crash this damn CAR! Listen up, take a deep breath.” Iggy took a deep breath. Del counted off “Slowly, breathe in, two, three…out two three…in two, three…and out two three.” Iggy said, “I'm OK. I'm OK now. I’m thinking of a way we can drop him off.” Then Iggy got an idea, “That’s it! We'll say we found him in the road. ” Del looked at him, “Boy, the hell we WON’T be doing that! They’ll ask more questions! We gotta think.” Iggy thought again, “OK…ok. You know how hospitals always have seats at the entrance, right? We'll sit him on a bench…or prop him up or something.” As they debated how to dispose of my body, I started to think I was in some taxi. I didn’t know where my wallet was or what a wallet was. I told them, “I don't have any money.” Del looked over the seat, “Yeah, baby. We're OK. You don’t owe us a thing; just forget you ever met us, Kay? Got that?” Iggy muttered, “Yeah, like the whole thing ‘never happened’. We never picked you up in an ally.” Then he looked at me in the rearview mirror, “You tell ‘em you aren't sure how you got there, alright?” Del saw the hospital entrance and said, “OK Iggy, it’s here, turn here. Slow up just before the entrance.” She spotted something, “OH, OH, Oh, stop the car” Iggy hit the brakes, “WHAT?” I almost rolled onto the floor. Del pointed out, “There's a wheelchair! We'll put him in that. Someone's bound to find him. He’s just outside the ER door.” Iggy said, “I'll pull over, you help him out of the car while I get the chair” Iggy turned to me, “You still with us back there?” I said, “Yeah, still here, I'm so sorry; so sorry about all this. I didn't mean it.” I started crying, the tears streaming down my face. Iggy tried to calm me down, “No problem, buddy; happens all the time, right Del?” Del gave him a monotone response, “Sure, happens all the time. With my life, this happens all… the… damn… time.” Iggy put the car in park and rushed to the chair as Del opened the back door. Iggy and Del pulled me out of the car and guided me to the chair. Del locked the chair’s wheels. I’ll never forget this. Before leaving me there, Iggy held my face in his hands and said, “Phil, no tears, right? You’ll be OK now.” Then he looked into my eyes for a few seconds, “Look at the big blue eyes on ya. You’re a handsome guy.” Iggy kissed me on the forehead. He motioned for two paramedics to come over; gave them a “thumbs up” and jogged to the car. Del yelled out, “Iggy get back in the car!!” Del and Iggy made a run for it, car doors slamming as they peeled out down 13th Street. Paramedics caught sight of what just happened and double parked their rig. One of them rushed over to me, “You’re going to be OK; we got ya,” he said to his partner, “this guy’s pretty banged up.” He looked around, surveying the situation, “What the hell was that about?” Chapter 5 The night Iggy drove me to the hospital; Gina was just leaving through the Scarab’s front entrance. She spotted me lying down in the back seat of Iggy’s Pontiac. He stopped a few seconds at the intersection for a car to pass then sped off like he just committed a robbery. Gina knocked on the window as the car sped off. She threw her hands up and said “What the hell, Iggy?” In a few seconds, the car was long gone, speeding down Franklin Street. Just then, Sharon and Kim were getting thrown out of the bar, they joined Gina; confused at what they just saw. Sharon asked, “Hey! Where’s Iggy going?” Kim looked and shrugged, “Don’t know.” Gina said, “I don’t know where that daffy bitch is off to, but he’s taking Phil with him.” Sharon said to Kim, “Wow, I guess they really hit it off.” Gina said, “He just drove off like a bat outta hell,” she stared down Franklin Street as Iggy’s car was now two blocks away, “I can’t wait to get him on the phone.” Gina looked down the alley and asked the people milling about, “Hey! Did you guys see what happened?” Marisol spoke up, “We don’t know. Looks like someone got hit by a car.” Kim said, “I saw Iggy and Dell helping him into the back seat. The guy was just on the ground in the middle of alley, passed out.” Sharon turned to Kim, “Well, he couldn’t be drunk; he was with us up ‘til fifteen minutes ago,” She thought, “I’ll call the admissions office tomorrow and give Janice a heads up. I doubt he’ll be at work tomorrow. That’s some bad luck. I hope he’s OK.” Kim looked at Gina, “I hope he’s OK too. At least he didn’t just hit him and drive off.” Gina said, “As soon as I can get him on the phone, I’ll get the details and give you a call. Man, I can’t believe he hit someone.” “Did anyone tell his parents?” Sharon asked, “The guy said he was living with his folks.” Gina shook her head, “No, I don’t know where he lives. He just moved here from Philly.” When Gina got home, she told her mom about the incident. Ruth was worried and asked Gina to get Iggy on the phone for an update. Gina called but the phone just rang and rang. She kept calling Iggy house every half an hour. Finally, after about two hours, Del answered the phone. “Hello?” Gina blurted out, “Hey Del, is Iggy there?” “Gina?” “Yeah, it’s Gina. Can you put him on?” Iggy took the phone, “Yeah.” “Hey! Where did you go with Phil? What the hell, did you run him over?” “Run him down? Are you kidding me? We were leaving the bar and all of a sudden we see this guy lying in the middle of the street!” Gina was relieved, “Oh my God! I thought you hit him. Where is he now?” “The ER, we just came back from St. Joe’s,” Iggy paused. Gina waited, “And…? What did they say? Is he going to be alright?” “Well, we just drove him there and dropped him off.” “So, you’re telling me,” she started again, “OK, so you found a guy in the street. You drive him to the hospital and then you just leave him there? Iggy, what the hell, is wrong with you, man?” “I know, I know. We panicked. We thought it would be safer to get him to the ER right away instead of waiting for an ambulance,” he said, “besides there were paramedics outside who came over and checked him out.” “Iggy, that’s not the point! You could have hurt him worse by moving him! What the hell’s wrong with you? Haven’t you ever seen ‘Emergency’?” “Gina, I went to school to be a paramedic. Now, I don’t think there’s anything to worry about. I didn’t see any sign of major injury.” Iggy explained. “Look, you were only training to be one and never got your license. You should have waited for the ambul-“ Iggy cut Gina off, “I know, I know but, what if the cops took us in? They’d accuse us of running him over. As it is, we both had a few beers. We weren’t buzzed but cops would smell beer on our breath and make up something to throw us in jail. Reading cops can be real assholes. Trust me on that one.” “So, what now? Did anyone tell his family?” “Del found his wallet in the back seat. There’s a phone number and address to some place on South 10th St. Del’s going there to see if she can contact his family.” “OK, call me back and let me know what you find out, OK?” Iggy assured her, “OK, I’ll call you with an update. Talk soon.” Chapter 6 – The Wallet Del looked over the contents of the wallet. She found an address on 10th Street and a card with “Gran’s phone number” scribbled on it. She called the number. A woman answered. Del asked the woman if she knew Phil? Gran asked who’s calling. Del explained how last night there was an accident. She told Gran how she found him lying in the street. Del assured her he was going to be OK; he was taken to St. Joe’s hospital. Gran was beside herself. She told Del how she dreaded a call from the police telling her Phil got killed or mugged. Before rushing out the door, Del asked Gran how she could return Phil’s wallet. Gran gave Del the address and asked if she wouldn’t mind dropping it off? She can leave it with her husband, he’ll be home. That morning, Del parked next to the abandoned factory and found Gran’s house. She rang the doorbell and Granpop opened the door. “What is it? Whatcha you want?” Del was a little intimidated. He was elderly but still came off and mean and imposing. “Um I think this is your grandson’s wallet; I found it on the street.” “I’ll give it to him,” he grabbed the wallet from her and slammed the door in her face. Del, walked back to the car thinking, “What a dick!” Later that day, Iggy called Gina. “Hey, just wanted to let you know what we found out.” Gina said, “Well it’s about time you call. So, what do you know?” Iggy told her, “We dropped the wallet off at his Grandparent’s.” Gina waited for the next part, “And? Was he OK? Is he dead? What happened?” Iggy blurted out, “I don’t know, OK? I don’t know anything more than that. Do you know anything about him?” Gina told him, “I spotted him leaving with Conrad, of all people. After you drove off, Sharon mentioned he worked in the Admissions Office at CCBC. Kim or Sharon’s going to let Janice know what happened. There’s no reason you need to get involved. You’ve done enough already.” Iggy did not take her advice. He had to know if he seriously injured me by driving to the hospital. Later that day, he walked into the college’s Admissions office and found Janice sitting at her desk on the phone, “Yes, that’s the deadline. Yes….sure….OK, you can drop it off here anytime. Did you have any other things I can help you with? Ok then, bye,” she hung up and asked Iggy, “How can I help you?” “Um, yeah, I’m here to see Phil.” Janice looked him up and down, “He’s not here right now, is there something I can help you with?” Iggy thought, well he can’t be dead if she’s not upset at the mention of his name. That’s a good sign. I didn’t kill him, “Um, yeah, he was helping me with something. I heard he was out sick. Do you know if he’s OK?” Janice said, “I’m not able to provide that information but I know he’ll probably be back tomorrow.” Janice looked at this army boots, the spikes on his jacket; she was reluctant to give out any information. After all, who knows who this guy was? She told him, “I’ll be happy to leave a message. I’m sorry, what did you say your name was?” “Oh, I’m Iggy. Iggy O’Connor.” He tried to come up with another reason to be there, “Well, I was checking if you have a Paramedic training program?” “That we do, so here’s a packet. It has the fall schedule and also the deadlines for the paperwork.” She added. “Will you need to apply for grants or financial aid?” Iggy stammered, “Um, I don’t know anything about this stuff.” “OK, well, you can check out the financial aid office next door. They’ll help you with that.” “Ok, um, well, thank you,” Iggy said backing out of the office. “Don’t mention it. If you have any questions, do not hesitate to ask. I’ll give the message to Phil when I see him. Do you want to leave a phone number?” “Um, yeah, sure,” he scribbled his number on a note pad. “I’ll be sure to let him know you stopped by,” she gave him a smile and guided him out of the office. Chapter 7 - Revelations I woke up and found Gran sitting on my bed. “How do you feel?” she asked with a worried expression, “What happened?” “Gran, I think I must have forgotten a dose of my meds. I fell in the street and some people drove me here. Thank God for that.” “Yes,” she said flatly, “they saved your life. How do you feel now? Sore?” “Yes, I’m really sore. My muscles were all tensed up.” I winced as I tried to sit up. “You know,” she started off, “I was very worried about you. Then when I got a call from someone I don’t even know telling me you’re here; hell, I didn’t know what to think. Where were you and why didn’t you let me know where you were? Were you ever going to tell me?” “-Gran…” She became insistent but didn’t raise her voice, “Look, like it or not, I’m still legally responsible for you. Do you have any idea what was going through my mind?” I looked out the window; I knew I was wrong. I just didn’t want to be reminded of it. I felt enough shame. “I was just at Julie’s house and I tripped.” “OK, that’s lie number one,” she said staring straight at me with a curt tone in her voice, “The paramedics told the ER that you were dropped off by two people and then sped off. So, I know what you just told me is a lie. Do you want to try it again? Where were you?” I started to stammer. I couldn’t think of anything. My brain was still foggy. I decided it was time to tell her everything. I had to tell her before I could think of another lie; tell her the truth before I could talk myself out of it, “Gran, I’m gay. I was sneaking into the Scarab, this gay bar on Franklin.” “You know,” she paused as tears welled up, “do you think I’m some sort of monster that you couldn’t tell me this before? What, you thought I would throw you out like some old piece of furniture?” This was it. I was what I didn’t want to hear. She was always good at that. She always was my grounding force. When she said, “I love you”, she meant it. When she said “you’re screwing your life up”, she meant it. Usually, she was right and this time it hurt. If I hurt her, I felt like hell. The guilt and the shame were probably worse than coming out of the closet to her. “I was afraid to tell you. Afraid you’d disown me or something.” Gran was getting a little annoyed, “Now have you ever heard me say that? Have you? I thought after all you’ve been through, I would be the one person you knew you could tell. Phil, I can’t say I’m disappointed. I know it must be hard to tell me but I’ve seen you through a lot. I wouldn’t dream of throwing you out for something like this. I love you Phil. I just hoped you’d know that by now,” she started crying. I really felt like hell now. I felt horrible that I broke her heart. “Gran, I didn’t want to admit it to myself. I wanted to keep that part of my life separate because I was ashamed. Growing up Catholic didn’t help either.” “Oh, don’t’ worry about the church,” she said. “They have enough to atone for before they should even dream about telling someone they’re going to hell,” she pointed out a part I never thought of, “You know, I loved my grandmom very much. I spent a lot of time with her. She always told me ‘don’t judge a person. You don’t know their life. God makes everyone in different ways. You have no reason to judge them. Leave that to God. We should always love people just as God made them.” “Really, she said that?” “Sure! She was very observant of all kinds of people and had empathy towards anyone that was different. As a result, I always remembered never judge others because I’m no better or worse than they are.” “Gran, I should have told you. I’m sorry.” “Look, I love you kids. I want to be able to trust you but you’re not giving me much reason why I should.” “I know. I’m sorry.” “Phil, whether you like it or not, you have a responsibility to keep me informed about what you’re doing. You don’t have to, of course. You can do anything you want. However, you’re not being considerate. What if it was you getting that call? How would you feel?” “Gran I feel bad enough. I promise. I’ll promise not to do it again.” “Ya know Phil, you can’t just promise. I need to see you act on your promises or your words don’t mean anything.” I think I felt worse after Gran got there than before. I was relieved to tell her. I didn’t want to have to hide that part of myself. However, I still felt awful for not telling her. She said, “You know something? I knew this way before you told me. Moms and Granmoms know this stuff. People handle it all different ways, that’s all. Your mom knows.” “I think back to all the horrible things she said about gay people. I have a pretty good idea what she thinks of me. I have a pretty good idea what she thinks of Blacks, Jews, Lesbians. She has a whole list of people she hates. Not just me.” “Phil, I think she has to get over hating herself first. I’m going to head out. The doctor told me you should be discharged tomorrow. He’ll stop by and check on you first. Give me a call when you’re ready and I’ll pick you up. We’ll have to stop at the pharmacy too.” “Love you Gran.” “Phil, I will always love you, no matter what.” Chapter 8 – Iggy and Del Iggy and Del walked into their second floor apartment at the intersection of 5th and Douglas. The apartment was once the bedroom of a stately townhouse built in the 1890’s. However, in the 1980’s, it was turned into six different apartments. When the Great Depression hit, huge old townhouses like this became too much to heat and maintain. In 1982, this house was eighty years old and couldn’t compete with the allure of new suburban homes complete with land, good schools and bucolic surroundings. Why would anyone keep this place when they could rent it out and have the tenants pay for the mortgage on a tract house in suburbia? The current landlord happened to be the son of the original owner. He didn’t care about the place so long as the rent was paid. The lack of upkeep and maintenance were evident everywhere. Iggy and Del didn’t care since the apartment was cheap, big and included heat. Who cared if the place had peeling lead paint, leaky sinks, and water stains on the ceiling? Hell, it wasn’t all that bad. As per most landlords, he promised to fix things, but that was three years ago. The promise was long since forgotten. The apartment had twelve foot ceilings and marble fireplaces in just about every room; none of them worked. Del got furniture that was either salvaged from the curb or bought from the Hope Rescue Mission a few blocks away. One of the curbside treasures was a male mannequin. They both had fun dressing him up in crazy costumes. The mannequin stood in a cop’s uniform with a frozen plaster smile and a sign reading, “I’ve got a warrant out for your arrest.’ Hanging on the dining room wall was a large banner from the Phillies 1980 World’s Series game. It was Del’s pride and joy. She got it from a friend who worked at Vet’s Stadium. All in all, their apartment was super comfortable, but the place was not something you’d find in “Town and Country” magazine. Iggy’s room had a view of Douglas St. He enjoyed people watching. He spent many a night people watching after a break-up. He always wore his heart on his sleeve. Del told him how he’s too eager to please; he gave too much of himself too easily. It always ended the same way with Iggy getting his heart broken. Iggy had both girlfriends and boyfriends. With a huge selection of dating possibilities (even for a place like Reading), he usually found the worst possible person to get involved with. Crystal was his most recent ex. She hit it off with him after just one night; after two weeks they were both bored with each other. His love life was a constant source of amusement and gossip for his co-workers at the factory. In another time and had they both been more mature, Iggy and Crystal may have worked out. No matter how much gossip that surrounded the veritable car wreck of Iggy’s love life, Del had a soft spot for him. She just wished he’d listen to her advice. It was hard watching him do the same mistakes with Crystal, Jose, Gary, Samantha, Marisol and Dante over and over again. He had a revolving door of sexual partners. He didn’t give the relationships time. Iggy was idealistic and romantic. After the initial rush of excitement with most relationships, the romance always sputtered out. So Del took him on as one of her “lost causes”. She related to him. She did the same thing with her relationships. Of course, she was much more adept at giving advice than taking it. This is one reason they fit so well. They worked together, drank together and were truly the best of friends. What they never seemed to realize was they were looking for someone to love, but went about it the wrong way. In a way, Iggy thought the right person would complete him. He feared he was truly unlovable. He tried to find “the one” over a course quick hook-ups. He was always in search of that one man or woman who’ll love him forever. Del walked into the kitchen, took fruit from the fridge. She bit into an apple and handed an orange to Iggy. Iggy took the orange, and turned on the stereo. The needle slowly lowered on the 45 making a “pffft” sound from the speakers. The sound of “Get-A-Job” by The English Beat filled the room. Del put her apple on the table and slumped into the couch cushions. She adjusted the bill of her Phillies ball cap and looked over the mail. She handed him a collection notice. “Iggy, I told you, don’t worry about it. If the account’s in collections, all you need to do is call and make a payment plan.” He looks exasperated, “Yeah? Where am I supposed to get the money from, Del?” When Iggy gets nervous and uptight, he juggles; He picked up three nerf balls off the coffee table and started juggling; trying his best to juggle to the beat of the music. “My job at Car Tech pays crap. If I didn’t work at the group home with you, we’d never pay the rent.” He stops juggling, everything falls to the floor. “If I didn’t have that second job, we’d be thrown out.” “Man, you ain’t ever lie. Our scumbag landlord would do it in an instant,” Del said soberly. “Three years ago, I thought my life was on track. Paramedic training and then once I graduated I’d be ready to take on the world.” Iggy had to re-hash the reason why he had no money. “Del, it's like I run it over and over in my mind. I can’t believe I was so stupid. Why the hell did I let myself get so super drunk and miss the final exam? How did I end up in that bar fight, like a dumbass.” Del answered in a monotone voice, “Wow, Iggy, don’t mean no disrespect dude, but I’ve heard this one before.” She thinks for a minute, “You know, there’s something I been meaning to ask you, Cap’n. You never told me what started the fight.” “It was pretty crazy how it all started.” He thinks for a while, “Ya know, maybe getting kicked out wasn’t so bad after all? I mean, for one thing, I wouldn’t have met you.” “No, Iggy seriously, was that the only reason?” Iggy stretched out his arms in front of him and cracked his knuckles, “OK, here goes; I’m on third shift with my buddies,” Iggy hops over the armrest of the recliner and sits, “I'm having' a great time. I was hanging out with Donny Kritzinger, I don't think I ever told you about him. I hate remembering him, hate to think about it. I had the biggest crush. I would’ve done anything for him. He never had a clue how I felt, thank God. He was too busy trying to get laid with most any women our age in all of Berks County. Come to think of it, some that weren’t so young either. So anyway, I spent a lot of time trying to think of ways we could hang out together outside of the plant. You know how obsessed I get." "Obsessed? You?" He smiled and flipped her the finger, "He was from Harrisburg. We were total opposites in so many ways. He was amazed at how much I could knock ‘em back. As you know, growing up here, drinking becomes second nature by the time you reach 10. Hell, it's a wonder ya have a liver at age twenty. “I knew he wasn’t gay, but I didn’t care. I was so crazy over him. Just his smile would make me melt. Try working twelve hour days with a guy you’d swear was your soulmate and not be able to do a damn thing about it. I realize the whole thing was one-sided. He didn’t feel any attraction to me. I’m sure he wasn’t gay” “How do you know that?” “Well, for one, he didn't act gay. Two, he didn't sound gay. Three, he was just so wrapped up in women. Those dull stories drove me crazy. He drove us all crazy. He thought we were just dying to hear what happened with the chick he just banged or how he scored a phone number. He made some really bad choices too. He screwed this one chick and ended up with the clap. He was always thinking with is dick. “So, back to how we got into the bar fight. We’re at that dive bar on Muhlenberg Street. You know, the place that’s only good for two things, cheap beer and hookers. We got so drunk. I mean “falling on your ass” drunk. I was tempted to try something with him. I almost got the courage to kiss him. Thank God I didn’t, but I wanted to go for it so bad. I would have really created a disaster. Thank you, Jesus! Thank you from keeping me from pulling that stunt. Iggy continued, “OK, so it’s late, last call. So, what does Kritz do just as we're about to leave? He orders another round." “For real?” “I know! Can you believe it? The bartender cut him off. Kritz gets pissed because it’s dawning on him there's no more booze. In his drunken wisdom, he decided that's not gonna to happen. He threw a punch at the bartender and, of course, we get thrown out. So, we leave and head back to his house in Robesonia. "Del, I swear, I don’t even remember how we got to his place. I’m amazed we didn’t get ourselves killed. Kritz was all over the road. At one point, Donny almost went over the side of a bridge. By the time we got there, I started sobering up. I remember he got into it with one of Robesonia Police. They asked him to step out of the car. Donny gets insulted, how dare they assume he’s drunk, even though he’s behind the wheel totally shitfaced. "Somehow, I get it in my head that Kritz needed me to protect him from this guy. This cop was huge, a full three inches taller than him. I flew out of the car and fell over the curb. I think you know the rest. “When I got to Reading, I couldn’t face my dad. We’ve got a long family history of drunks. Dad wasn’t but my older brothers were, grandad was too. I think dad must have intervened after I called him from jail; probably the reason I’m not there now. “Anyway, that was the last I ever saw of Donny. I felt like shit, like a failure. I let my dad down." Tears welled up in his eyes. Iggy stared straight ahead, "So, as I was saying, I got to Reading. I didn’t call dad when I got out of jail. I knew how that talk would go. So, when I finally did, he told me not to come home. I disgraced him. I was nothing but a drunk to him,” Iggy said in almost a whisper, “Del, when he told me that, I was devastated.” “Did you ever try contacting him again?” Iggy took a deep sigh, pulled the lever on the side of the recliner and lay back staring at the ceiling. “No. Ya know, all my life, I wanted to be like him. I idolized him and now I screwed it all up. I lost everything because I got drunk and ended up making a mess out of my life.” She noticed how she felt more and more like a shrink when she had these talks. “Cap’n, look at me. It takes a big man to admit he's made a mistake. However, look at you now! Stable jobs, they don’t pay much but you’re working, right? Working with disabled adults is rough as hell and you do great at it. You're a natural. I know a lot of residents have become so close to you.” “I love those guys too.” “On your days off, they ask where you are...over and over again; drives me nuts.” Iggy thought, “It’s good to feel needed. I mean, it’s hard not to care for them. I feel protective with my guys. It’s not their fault the way they were born, any more than it’s my fault for being the way I am,” Iggy paused, “You know what the worst part is? I hate having to hide my sexuality from everyone; being a closet case makes me feel like a fraud. On the other hand, what choice do I have? I’d be fired immediately, probably blackballed from working in another group home. So now, here I am drifting with no goals. Sort of like being in the middle of an ocean with a ship that’s got no navigation, no engine." Iggy looked at Del, “It’s a good I have friends like you who know the real me. You’re like family; the one I wish I had,” he thought a moment, “You know something? I’m actually closer you than I am with my brothers.” “Iggy, I have to admit, I feel like we’re family. It’s like we’re brothers or something. I don’t trust people, never did. But I trust you. Just remember Cap'n, when you’re lost at sea, you can always radio for help.” Iggy smiles, “Thanks man. Hey, by the way; did you ever hear what happened to the dude we dropped off at the hospital? I was just thinking about him.” Del threw up her hands in frustration, “Here we go! I knew it was just a matter of time. YOU, Mister, are a mess! You drop off someone at an ER and next you’re picking out china patterns and the wedding venue.” “Don’t you think that’s a little over the top, Del?” “Iggy, we're in healthcare. We know how difficult epilepsy can be to deal with," she looks at him sideways, "I need to get you laid, dude. You have no clue who he is or what he has. Iggy, what if you did get involved with him, ever think of that? Ever think of what your life would be like? He's not like some stray cat or dog. Now, just leave it at that. You sure know how to pick ‘em. Life is tough enough without you getting involved in someone else’s issues.” “Del, I think that’s my choice to make.” “You’ve got to be joking! The sad part, you’ll find a way to get way too emotionally attached. Iggy, stop being so needy; you’re a handsome guy. You could do a lot better.” “Del, I know you’re looking out for me. And by the way, I’m not needy.” Del looks at him and says under her breath, “whatever.” “No ‘whatever’ Del; you don’t trust me to make sound decisions about my life?” “No…hell no, and you want to know why? I have more examples than I can count. Times when you’ve gotten involved with the wrong dude because you let your dick make the decisions. You're like the Bi version of your friend Kritz.” He grabbed a toothpick from the coffee table and intently focused on cleaning the dirt from under his fingernails. “That’s not right. I can’t believe you just said that.” “Isn’t it?” Del starts counting off with her fingers, “OK, let’s see, there’s the married guy you got caught doing it with in the bathroom of the Abe Lincoln hotel. Iggy, that was just two weeks ago.” Iggy chimed in, “It was two months ago.” "However long it was doesn't matter, dude. What about that taxi driver in Philadelphia? How long did you think that would last?” “She was really into me.” “She was; so much so that she went back to her ex, later that night? Let’s see…Oh, yeah, the bouncer at that bar in Pottstown. You sure bounced around with him. In an abandoned depot, Iggy? Really? Christ, do you ever learn anything? Iggy, I’m not bailing you out again. You have a long history of this. Look, I know you get horny, we all do. That’s not the problem; it’s what you do about it.” Del sees she’s getting through to him, “Look, I wanted to ask you if you heard about how there’s this new “AIDS” thing going around. From what I read, it’s pretty brutal. Only gay men seem to get it and it is scary as fuck. So, please Iggy, you’ve got to be more careful. I mean this shit could kill you and personally, I couldn't deal with that. “It’s that bad?” “All the doctors know is it’s hitting gay men and guys are dying soon after they get it. When someone gets it, they’re dead in weeks. Now, personally, I think it’s something Reagan dreamed up to get rid of us. I know that sounds crazy but…” He looks at her ashamed and puts his head down. He feels bad he's worried her and how he's acted. His hands start scrunching the back of his black hair. He looks up at her and sighs. “Iggy, why not take it slow. Get to know people. Allow your dates to get to know you. You’re such a nice guy. You deserve to be happy. You deserve more than just one night stands. Are you getting me? Do you understand? I’m not trying to be a hard ass; I’m just concerned about you,” Del waited for an answer hoping he heard her. Iggy looked up, took a smoke out of a pack of her cigarettes and lit it. He rolled it between his thumb and forefinger, exhaled and says, “Yeah, OK Del, I’ll take it slow” Chapter – 9 Iggy couldn’t stop thinking about the crazy thing that happened last night. What if this guy died because we left him there? What if I did break a rib or something else as a result of us moving him and not calling an ambulance? He couldn’t stop his mind from replaying the scenario over and over. He had to know what happened to this poor guy. That afternoon, Iggy drove to St. Joseph’s Hospital and found my room. I was happy to see him, “Hi! I’m sorry, I can’t remember your name…you’re? “Iggy, I’m Iggy.” “Oh, yeah. That’s right. You and Del stayed with me until the ambulance took me to the hospital. Thank you so much. I could have gotten mugged or killed just lying there like that. What happened? How did you find me?” Iggy explained, “Well, we were leaving the bar and found you passed out on the street. Did you have a seizure or something?” “Yeah, I did. I have epilepsy and must have forgotten to take my medication. I’m really sorry you guys had to find me like that. I feel bad.” Iggy looked at me, “Don’t. Don’t feel bad. I really needed to know if you were OK. I was worried I might have hurt you by moving you. Are you going to be OK?” “Sure. Things are going to be fine. I’m really sore. My muscles cramp up when I go into a seizure but once I’m feeling better, I should be home in a day or two. The doctor said they’re just going to adjust my phenobarbital levels and I’ll be out of here.” Iggy smiled, sat back on the orange vinyl chair next to the bed, “Well, I’m glad everything is going to be alright. So, you were at the Scarab? Are you a bit young for that place?” I looked at him, “Iggy, I think you’re a little too young, right? I mean, you’re what, nineteen, twenty?” “Twenty, I turn twenty one next May.” He was curious, “So, who do you know at the Scarab?” “Um, well, I just started going there. Or, should I say, just started sneaking in.” Iggy laughed, “It’s more a ‘gay community center’ than just a bar.” I thought the same thing, “I got to know Gina and my friends Kim and her girlfriend. I met them. Other than that…” I felt like I was running out of things to say. Then he said, “Well, just wanted to stop by and see how you are.” “I appreciate that. Thanks.” Iggy told Gina he was sufficiently relieved I was OK. He felt awful about just leaving me on the sidewalk in a wheel chair. He was so scared he made things worse by moving me. What if I ended up paralyzed? Gina later how relieved he was; I was going to be OK. Chapter 10 – Afternoon at Gina’s Saturday, September 4th was a dreary day. Dark, slate-grey skies blanketed the city. The temperature was cool; a sign fall’s on its way. I liked those kinds of days when you didn’t have to feel guilty for spending time doing nothing. Today, I was just lying in bed listening to the latest music I recorded off the radio last night. I was glued to WEEU for almost two hours to tape “Turning Japanese” by The Vapors. I was obsessed with it for months. Downstairs, I heard the phone ringing. Gran answered it, “Hello?” She called up to me, “Phil, it’s for you! It’s Gina.” Gran was always happy to meet one of my friends since I never talked about them. She was always wary of who I was hanging out with. Most of my friends were either people from the theater or people from the bar. Del told me about the wallet incident and I turned five shades of red. I knew I shouldn’t be embarrassed but I was just the same. Gran said, “Hi Gina, he’ll be down in minute,” Gran held the handset of the black rotary phone. If used as a weapon, the phone could easily kill an intruder. It was hard wired to the wall around 1950, when they first moved in. It’s been in the same place ever since courtesy of Bell of Pennsylvania. I bolted down the stairs. Gran whispered, “It’s Gina.” “Thanks Gran,” I took the phone, “Hey Gina. What’s up?” “Is that anyway to greet me? Listen, you wanna come over? I’m bored.” “Why not turn on the TV?” “As I said, I’m bored; you coming over or what?” “Well, that’s a long walk.” I was exhausted thinking about the two mile trek. She started her usual sing-song whining, “OK, enough excuses, just get on the bus; the number four at 5th and Penn. It leaves every hour on the hour. If you hurry you can catch the next one.” Gina loved her friends but showed it in odd ways. She was overly dramatic, sarcastic, overbearing and yet, somehow we all gravitated to her. She was the type of friend that if you were in trouble, she would be there. If someone was making your life hell, she made sure you were never bothered again. She had a disdain for vapid consumerism. She not the type of person you’d at a mall (at least not by choice). She isn’t the type who’d be listening to the Commodores or Madonna. Her music had to come out of obscure record labels with lyrics that talked about pain, angst and a hatred of the status quo. I think her love of the avant-garde made her not just someone cool to hang out with but someone I emulated and learned from. I’d never heard of Cabaret Voltaire or the Dadaist movement until Gina. In some ways, she had this elitist view of who mattered and who didn’t based on what bands they followed or books they read. She didn’t include you in her circle if she thought you didn’t have an original thought in your head. She didn’t find interest in anyone who was a true conformist. She practically embodied the vibe you get when you entering an art gallery and saw pieces you loved but didn’t know why. In contrast, Ma was very smart and was also a cultural snob. She read like crazy, knew which books were turned into which movies and who wrote, co-starred and directed them. I learned a whole universe from mom. However, she didn’t have any interest in anything subversive like what Gina taught me. Besides that, Gina was fun and usually hilarious. I just wondered how many times she had a clue that I had NO clue what she was talking about. Probably more times than I can think of. She loved being the center of attention and loved her groupies. That’s why she liked the people at the bar (at least the ones allowed into her realm). If you were a guy that stepped out of an ad for Jordache Jeans with a duck yellow sweater tied loosely around your neck, the chances of her being anything but polite to you were slim and none. If you looked like a pained artists who’s gone through a second pack of cigarettes by noon, you were in. She could also be a very thoughtful and caring friend. When she gave you advice, it was from the heart. When she gave you a birthday present, it was well thought out and one she knew you’d love. She collected a lot of unique and unusual things and seemed to collect unusual people as well. Outsiders like me craved her approval. However, we all learned how futile it was to say “no” to her. When you’re summoning to her palace, the choice is not up for debate. That afternoon, I didn’t want to go. However, I knew I’d have a tug of war with Gina if I said no. “OK, I’ll be there in about an hour. I have to get showered first.” “Showered? It’s noon, you slob,” I didn’t think of that, “I know, it’s Saturday, I was gonna just -” “Just what, hang around and listen to music, then stare off into space? Is that what you do on your days off? Just get over here,” she commanded. “OK. I’ll be over.” “You better,” she laughed as she hung up. Gina set the phone on the floor next to an empty pizza box. Just then the phone rang. Gina quickly snatched up the receiver, “Jesus, Phil, don’t tell me you changed your mind that fast.” Iggy was confused, “Um, what? I kept getting a busy signal. What are you talking about?” Gina changed her tone when she recognized who it was, “Why Cap’n, what an honor! I was calling the authorities to have you taken away. How may I assist you, my queen?” she said. Iggy said, “I was hoping you had that Siouxsie & the Banshees album I let you borrow?” “OK, yeah. Come by in an hour,” Gina put on a southern accent, “As I’m not yet ready to receive gentleman callers.” She headed downstairs. Her row house was narrow with a front porch connected to every other porch on the block. Usually, blocks of row houses face an identical row across the street, but Gina’s didn’t. Across the street were abandoned rail lines from when the Reading Railroad was still in business. The exterior of the house was painted flat grey with white trim. Inside, the living room had shag carpeting. She hated it. She also hated her mom’s taste in chunky, Colonial Revival furniture. The end tables flanking the sofa had two large, Moroccan style table lamps. Each had red crushed velvet shades that clashed with the 70’s, flocked ‘Golden Rod yellow’ wallpaper. The room would put John Waters into a state of euphoria. Next to the sofa was an antique, bow-front china cabinet. Inside were Ruth’s prized collectibles along with photos she placed neatly on each shelf. In the next room, Ruth sat at the kitchen table going over the Reading Eagle's classified section and drinking Pepsi. “Hey, what are you up to today?” Gina shuffled into the kitchen slowly, took a Pop-Tart off her mom’s plate, “You seem chipper. Whatcha lookin’ at?” “Just checking estate sales, thought I’d see what’s out there,” Ruth said, “Oh, and I need help picking out a dress and thought you’d like to come with.” Gina rolled her eyes, “Why a dress? You never wear them. Is this some company thing? Why do I need to go with you?” Ruth looked at her for a few seconds, “I need your opinion. I need to look good for the company picnic.” Gina whined, “Mom, I wish you didn’t go. It’s going to be just a boring picnic with boring co-workers. Can we do it tomorrow?” Gina wasn’t about to waste an entire day shopping for her mom’s dress. She hated shopping, especially for clothes. Besides, she had visitors coming over. Ruth sighed, “OK, I’ve got other things I need to get done. We can shop tomorrow. Can you do me a favor? I need you to vacuum the living room. Also, I can tell you were eating popcorn on the sofa, so be sure to get that as well. What do you have going today that’s so important you can’t help your mother?” Gina thinks of something fast, “Oh, just not feeling good.” Ruth knows she’s getting played, “Are you coming down with something? Here let me check.” Ruth reached over and feels Gina’s forehead with the back of her hand. She resisted the urge to slap her for bold face lying, “seems normal, I hate when you get sick. You can be a real needy pain.” “Thanks, ma,” Gina smiled broadly. Ruth gave her a kiss on the cheek, “Don’t forget the vacuuming, and the dusting.” Gina rolled her eyes and picked up a cigarette. Ruth looked at her, “I thought you told me you were going to quit?” “I will, I will, I’m just not ready yet,” Gina said. Ruth was annoyed that Gina placated her, “I wish you’d quit. You’re too young. You’re going to get cancer.” Gina reminded her, “Um, Ma, you smoked for years.” “So? Don’t be like your mother. Just work at quitting,” Ruth pleads, “Do it for me.” Gina lit it. “OK, I’ll work at it. It’s just hard. I mean, all my friends smoke. “ “Don’t worry about what your friends are doing. Now, I’m going upstairs to get ready. Be sure to clean the dishes as well.” “OK, just add more and more to the list why don’tcha,” Gina mumbled under her breath. Ruth snapped back, “Look, I’m not asking for the moon. Just do it. I don’t want to hear back talk, OK?” “OK, OK, ma, I’ll do it.” Gina finished the Pop-Tart and heard knocking at the screen door. I stood on the porch, peering into the dark living room, “Hello?” Gina slowly sauntered to the screen door and let me in, “I thought you were coming later? I’m not ready or anything. But, now that you're here, you can help me.” I said, “With what?” “Cleaning, Mom wants the place vacuumed, dusted and the dishes done.” Gina stopped, “Hey, I thought you said you were taking the bus?” “Gran gave me a ride,” I was relieved since I hated the bus. Gran always came through. “Oh, cool. Start with the dishes. I really didn’t want to do any of this today.” I looked over the whole mess, “Yeah, either do I.” Ruth appeared in the doorway, “Hey, Phil, how are you?” Ruth loved me. She loved all Gina’s friends. I answered, “Doing OK, you?” “Good, good. Well, gotta get going,” she turned to Gina, “Have this place picked up by the time I get back, OK?” “Yes mommy dearest,” Gina said quietly. Ruth turned her face “Gina? You promise?” Gina waved her off, “Yeah, yeah, now go.” Ruth smiled, “Nice seeing you again, Phil.” “Nice seeing you too, Mrs. Papadakis.” We heard the VW Beetle’s engine that sounded like a gas lawnmower; Ruth was out of there. I asked Gina, “So, what are you up to?” “Why, whatever do you mean, philistine?” Gina said with a flourish. “I just thought you had something to tell me, gossip or something,” “Oh, yeah, we’ll get to that,” she said as she scrubbed a frying pan, “the sponge is in the frog’s mouth next to the stove; dish soap is on the table,” Gina remembered, “Oh, I have to ask you; what were you doing earlier before I called?” I found the sponge, “Pretty much nothing.” “So, I’ve saved you from boredom? That’s what you’re telling me? It’s OK, you can tell me,” Gina whispered, “I won’t tell a soul.” “I doubt that,” I laughed. With mock indignation, Gina grabbed her imaginary pearls, “What’s that supposed to mean, Sir? And I use that term loosely.” “Well, you told everyone at the Scarab about the disaster with Conrad a few weeks back,” I had to vent. Sharon and Kim knew. Iggy and Del knew. I found out most everyone at the bar knew I had epilepsy. I was sure I’d never find friends who wouldn’t look at me with pity. “I didn’t tell anyone. The people who spread that were standing on the sidewalk as my friends got you off the street. So you can apologize for that remark by getting me a pack of smokes at the store.” She was through with the dishes, “let’s go up to my room. I’ll fill you in about Conrad and get dressed at the same time. You gotta hear this.” I put a dirty saucer in the sink and the sponge back in the frog’s mouth. I almost didn’t want to know what she had to say. We walked into her room gingerly so as not to knock over the piles of books and records everywhere. Gina’s room was full of religious pictures and crosses. She also had collages she’d cut and pasted together. They practically lined the room. One collage showed Saint Theresa on her knees praying with a copy of the Koran peeking out her robe. A box fan spun warm air around. A hanging Asian lamp illuminated the room. I was mesmerized by all the cool stuff. Gina noticed me drooling over her collection of treasures, “Hey, I see you eyeing my stuff. I find anything missing; I’ll kick your ass.” “But there’s just so much cool stuff! I want to steal most of it.” I confessed. We heard the screen door. Gina called down to Iggy, “It’s Cap’n with his big purple Crunch Berries! Is it true you’re part of a complete breakfast? Get up here, you lazy bitch,” Gina invited Iggy to her room. A few boot stomping footsteps later, Iggy’s stood in the doorway. He asked, “Hey, can I borrow a smoke? I’m out.” “You’re always out” she directed a stage whisper to me, “out to lunch that is, nyuk, nyuk, nyuk.” “Where’s my album?” Iggy asked her. “Wow, chill out, ‘lil louse on the prairie’. A smoke and you’re out the door? Is that it?” Iggy noticed me crouched on the floor going through Gina’s albums. He tried to sound non-chalant, “Who’s your friend?” Iggy knew exactly who I was. As I picked my head up from the pile of albums, I saw him standing there with a goofy grin. Gina made quick introductions, “Iggy this is Phil, Phil this is Iggy.” He looked so adorable. I said, “Hey man, how you doing’?” “Good, doing great,” he was grinning from ear to ear. He caught himself and tried to reel in his enthusiasm. Iggy didn’t know what to say so he just stood there, hooking his thumbs in his back pockets. Finally he said, “So, um, I guess you know Gina?” “Yeah,” I looked him over. His hair was buzzed short like the guy in “Blade Runner”. He was probably just another Gina groupie. Then I thought to myself, I have to stop staring at his eyes. OK, OK, Just play it cool. Iggy nodded his head slowly and smiled, “That’s cool.” Gina asked Iggy, “Why are you here so early? I said ‘in an hour’, but no, not my Cap’n. He’s right here at the exact time I told him not to be here. My hair isn’t even done. I look like hell,” she whines, “Iggy, what the hell man?” Iggy didn’t want to get on her bad side, “I just got my car back. Del came back sooner than she thought.” Gina asked him, “Why was she driving your Bonneville? She still has her car, right?” ”Yeah, but the water pump went. She’s got it stored at my brother’s ‘till she gets the parts.” Gina switched topics to the real reason she was happy to see him, “Cap’n, can you lend me two bucks?” Her eyes grew wide, she just remembered something, “Or, I should say, can you give me the money you owe.” Iggy tried to act clueless, “how do I owe money; for what?” Gina said, “For smokes. I gave you two bucks a week ago.” “Gina, I don’t have any cash on me. Sorry.” Gina knew Iggy inside out and backwards. She could always tell when he was feeding her a line of bullshit, “OK, now I know you’re lying. There’s never a minute when you don’t have cigarette money.” Gina turned to me, “Phil, I know what we should do. The choice is obvious. We should hang him upside down ‘till we shake the change out of his pockets.” Oddly enough, I liked the thought of that. Gina whined, “C’mon Iggy, show me you have the crunch berries to honor your debts.” Iggy thought, “Ya know, I remember I got some cash in my trunk. I’ll be back in a sec.” He hurried off to his car. Gina called after Iggy, “Bet you have a lot of stuff in your trunk,” Gina poked me, “know what I mean Phil? Know what I mean?” She slapped me on the back, “He better be back soon, loser.” Gina sounded genuinely annoyed, “I can’t believe he tried that. Did you see what he pulled just then? If he thinks I’d believe he has no money, he’s daffier than I thought.” I asked her “How do you know he’s lying?” “Just do. He’s cheap,” she said. To me, Iggy always looked perpetually broke but I changed the conversation, “So, you wanted to tell me about-?” “Oh yeah, seems a little birdie told me you were going to hook-up with Conrad. So, I’m here to clue you in, stay away from him.” She was looking out for me. I could tell she didn’t want me to get caught up in someone else’s drama. She knew where I was going and knew that would have been a huge mistake. I had to ask, “Why’s that? He seems really nice.” Gina made sure I knew what I was getting into, “He always seems really nice to new guys at the bar. He’s ready to have sex with just about anyone. Just trust me on this. He drinks a lot and he’s sleeping with everyone. You don’t know what diseases he may have.” I said, “Well, I mean, he doesn’t look like he has anything. How do you know he’s got a disease?” She stared at me, “Hello? Were you listening? I just told you he sleeps with every guy in Reading; even the straight ones. Plus, I know friends who say they saw you two kissing and the next thing they see you’re face down in the street. They thought Conrad drugged you or punched you or something.” “Oh, that. I feel horrible. Now, I feel like some pariah.” “Aw, stop feeling sorry for yourself. Just promise me you won’t do anything with him,” she pleaded. “Good thing for you, he probably doesn’t remember any of it. He probably passed out the same time you were passing out in the street.” “OK, I’ll scratch him off my list. I’m batting zero at this point anyway.” I had to know, “How do you know Iggy?” “We had art classes together at Reading High. I had a big crush on him, even though he’s a complete dunderhead. He dropped out of my life for a while, then next thing we know, he’s back. A few months after that, he’s going out with dudes! It’s the story of my life, ‘Good job, Gina, turned another one!’” I tried not to act interested, “He’s handsome. I guess he sleeps around a lot too, eh?” “OK Mr. Desperado, he’s another one to skip by.” She said. I had to ask, “He’s really into guys?” “Phil, I know you wouldn’t know by looking at him but he’s actually bi. Yup, he’s bi as a springtime breeze. So basically, he sleeps with pretty much the whole planet. Lucky bitch.” I was really stunned, “Really, him? He doesn’t look it. I mean with the chains and the leather wrist bands; I would have never guessed that.” Gina couldn’t believe I was so green around the ears, “So, if you're bisexual, there’s only one way to look? Where did you say you’re from, Kansas?” “Very funny.” Gina got to the point, “Look, Iggy’s a nice guy but he’s got a lot of issues. So, I wouldn’t bother. Besides, you’re not his type.” “What’s his type?” I asked. “He’s into Punks and Goths.” “Well, I have a lot to learn, eh?” Gina said in a high voice, “See, as a young gay-ling, you need guidance. It’s OK young queer, Gina’s here.” “I guess I assume too much. He really has a nice body though. I can see why he gets….” “Well, just drop it. That’s the last thing I want to imagine is Iggy having sex,” she said with a face of disgust. The front door opened, more thumping boots; Iggy’s back again. “Here’s your cash. Now gimme my album or I’ll resort to some unusual behavior.” “My, aren’t we ‘Miss Bossy Pants’ today,” Gina handed him the album. She took the money and stuffed it in in her wallet. Iggy looked hyped, “Well, gotta get going.” “Why, where are you off to?” Gina asked. Iggy was antsy standing in one spot, “Well, like I said, I have to help Del with her car.” Gina smirked, “OK, well that’s not what you said on the phone but, OK” Iggy tried to explain, “No, I did say that I would -” Gina gave him her hand to kiss, “Just go, the both of you. I have to finish cleaning or mom will flip her lid. Iggy, I’ll call you later,” Gina looked at me, “Phil, I’ll see you tomorrow or whenever.” I gave her a brief hug, “Talk with you soon.” Iggy said, “See ya Gina.” He turned to me, “Phil, you need a ride?” “Um, yeah; I could use a ride back home” “Well let’s get going. I can drop you off. No problem,” he said with a grin. Gina can’t resist mimicking Iggy, “Phil, you coming?” I said, “You’re a laugh a minute,” as I followed Iggy down the stairs. Gina answered with southern pride, “I’ve excelled in asinine behavior my entire life, right Iggy?” Iggy answered, “That you have. I’ll call you or you call me.” “OK, yeah, whatever Cap’n,” Gina said, rolling her eyes. Iggy looked over at me and said, “Are you OK riding in a massive old land yacht?” I turned, “Um, yeah, sure, that’s cool.” “Come on, my car’s over here,” as he pointed to his Pontiac. Iggy wasn’t sure if asking me to ride along was the right decision. Looking over his car, it was filthy with primer grey holding the rust together. Iggy unlocked his door, hopped in and then unlocked the passenger door. “Good thing about this car: I don’t care if it’s stolen.” I tried making small talk, “Hey, do you go to CCBC?” “Me? No, I never stepped foot in college,” which was technically a lie. Iggy asked, “Where you headed?” “Well, if you have time, I’d love to see the Mount Penn.” I was so nervous. I didn’t know if I should have asked him. “But we can skip it because I know you have to help out your friend with her car.” “Yeah? Well, I have a few hours till I have to be at work and I can help Del anytime. Let’s take a drive up there,” He looked at me with a smile and his eyes opened wide as if he just surprised himself. “Cool! I haven’t seen it in years.” Then I asked him, “So, I gotta ask, what ‘Iggy’ short for?” Iggy smiled as he turned the engine over and revved the engine, “Ignatius” “Really? I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone with that name.” “It’s not a common name,” Iggy looked at me, raised his eyebrows twice and smiles, “It means, ‘fiery one’.” Chapter - 11 Sun peaked through the clearing skies. It was turning out to be a beautiful day after all. Once Iggy and I reached the top of the mountain, he was excited to show me one of his favorite spots. This was one of his secret locations where he would spend time thinking. Parked at the lookout, we climbed over a short stone wall and hopped down onto a trail. The sun shone through the leaves. The breeze was nice and the experience of being in the middle of the forest filled my senses. As a kid, Gran would take us up here but not hiking on trails. This was great. Iggy seemed to make this experience some sort of magical adventure. We came to a clearing. He looked up, “There! Look at it!” I gazed at the site. Someone had made an enormous peace sign on the side of the mountain. You could clearly see it from miles away. He was beaming, happy to show me how to get to peace. “Isn’t it cool?” I looked at it, amazed. “Iggy, how, who did this?” “I don’t know. It’s been here for decades,” he said looking back up at it. “That’s pretty amazing!” He came over, stood next to me. He put his arm around my shoulder and said, “Yes. It sure is.” He asked, “Hey, you hunrgy? I know this diner that has great Schnitz und Knepp.” “Um…what the hell is that?” He looked at me and laughed, “I guess they don’t have that in Philly?” I said, “Not that I know of.” “Come on, let’s get down there. I’ll take you to the Shillington Diner on Rte. 222. You ever been there before?” “No, come to think of it, I don’t think I have.” He motioned me to follow him back to the car, “It’s not far. Hop in the yacht.” We drove down the mountain. The late afternoon skies were turning everything golden as the sun was setting. We talked about my work, his work; just boring and mundane things. When we finally got to the diner, the business was hopping. It was a popular place. After having the Pennsylvania cuisine, I was still hungry. I looked over the deserts, “Waitress, can I get a rainbow Sunday.” The waitress looked and sounded like she’d been smoking since the day she was born, “We’re outta vanilla and strawberry.” I didn’t care, “OK, how about a rainbow Sunday with just the chocolate?” She rolled her eyes, “So, you want a rainbow sundae with just chocolate ice cream?” “Yeah,” “OK, if that’s what you really want.” she turned to the cook behind the counter and yelled out the order. She yelled out the last order as well. We started calling her “voice woman” soon after that. In a few minutes, voice woman came back carrying a large ice cream sundae with two spoons. Just as she said, there was only chocolate ice cream along with the other toppings. She put it in front of me and said, “There you go; one rainbow sundae; some rainbow.” As soon as she left, Iggy and I were in tears laughing. She became our new favorite waitress. We specifically asked for her every time we went to the diner. Over the next few weeks, we were always on the phone with each other. We’d share stories about our childhood, our friends, where we’d been on vacation. He would crack me up doing impersonations of his favorite characters on Monty Python’s Flying Circus or some of the characters he worked with at the plant. I’d show him my attempts at artwork. He’d show me the latest engine he was trying to upgrade. We’d have cigarettes outside the back porch of his apartment and talk over nothing in particular. It felt so good to be around him. I think he liked being around me too. We were inseparable. I never had it in my mind he felt nothing more than friendship. We never talked about it. He would tell me about his past flings; Crystal, Jose, Eric and Samantha were the stories with the juiciest details. When I imagined what he looked like in each of those tableaus, I had to stop myself from getting too carried away. We aren’t anything alike. Besides, he’s into Goth and Punks. Out of all his past relationships, I had the feeling he really loved Crystal. I don’t think he knew it but from the way he talked about her, it was pretty obvious he cared for her. He got laid off from the factory job. In between, he was working for the group home and getting temp jobs doing warehouse work. We got to spend a lot of time together when he wasn’t working sporadic assignments. We drove out to the lake where his family went boating. We sat on the hood of his car throwing rocks into the lake and wasting time talking. “Hey, I have to ask you something,” I said cautiously. “Shoot, what?” I watched the flat round skip off the surface of the water. I took a beat, “Does your family know you sleep with both men and woman?” “Well, Dad doesn’t. My brother’s know but they’re assholes and don’t care. We never got along. We interact with each other but I don’t get them and they don’t really understand me. They think I’m pretty worthless.” “That’s a shame. That’s gotta be rough. Families can really suck. I haven’t told my Ma or my siblings. Ma would throw me out of her life for good. But I have a different take on that. Ya know how there’s some ‘movie of the week’ with some kid comes out to his parents? Well, in a way, I want my mom to know. I’m hoping she disowns me. I’m just waiting for a good time to tell her. I want to see how she takes yet another event and turns it into something that’s all about her. She’ll say, ‘is it anything I did? Did I turn you gay?’ I would be so happy to ‘yes ma. If it wasn’t for your bad child rearing skills, you’d have grandkids by now.’” We both laughed. He was rolling laughing. What a ridiculous scene to play out. I looked over at him and said seriously, I don’t think that, for the record.” He looked at me, “You don’t what, think I’m worthless?” I shook my head, looking him in the eye, He took a drag from his cigarette, “You don’t, do you. You don’t think I’m worthless?” “No, not at all; if anything, I think you’re a really great guy that goes out of his way to be there for other people. I think you have no clue how much you matter to others,” I said. Can he tell I meant something more that I had feelings for him? I just hoped I didn’t give away too much. “Yeah, I’ve heard that before. Del tells me that all the time,” he said as he threw his cigarette into the lake, “I don’t know, man. I mean, I really don’t have any direction on what I want to do. I think that makes me get down on myself,” he looked at me and smiled this shy smile. Chapter - 12 I could never understand why Iggy, or anyone else for that matter, liked me. I didn’t think I was overly attractive. I could pick out every lump or misshapen part of my body in the smallest detail. I now look at pictures of myself back then and see how wrong I was. I was very attractive but I just didn’t have a muscled, perfectly sculpted body I’d find in Benneton ads. Instead, I had insecurities and low self-esteem. Initially, I also kept a secret from Iggy since I liked him and didn’t want him to leave me. From an early age, I came from an abusive household; but that’s a little too overly simplistic. My mother was very well read. She always supplied us with copious amounts of information on the most obscure things: Mozart’s final concert, how nuclear fission is achieved, who Martha Graham was dating in the 1940s, what is the most hideous color to wear if you have light skin. She hated Granpop partly because he worked in a factory and partly because the abuse readily doled out with no notice. She also hated Gran for working as just some dumb seamstress in a sweatshop. She felt there was so much more in the world and she was going to achieve it all. She hated Reading for being a city of factory workers and ignorant Pennsylvania Dutch. She hated the narrow minded bigots and their idiotic way of seeing the world. As I result, she kept to herself. Her interests usually had nothing to do with dolls or coloring books. I never remembered Ma talking about having close girlfriends or many friends at all. She was alone most of the time; probably the result of having her nose in books or spending hours in movie theaters watching her favorite western star, Don “Red” Barry, with whom she was completely in love. She won a full scholarship to Seton Hill College. She chose to study nuclear medicine; which for 1956 was fairly new. It was also uncommon for a woman to choose this career. She was her only impediment. Most Seton Hill students came from very wealthy families. Many of women were only there to find good husbands from a neighboring, prestigious all-boys catholic college. In the 1950s, the curriculum at Seton Hill included such things as “how to walk down a staircase” and “what fork and knife to use when eating fish”. This finishing school aspect was thought to be just as important as any other part of the curriculum. It’s almost as though the theme of the college was “you can get a degree at Seton Hill. However, if you drop out early to marry a doctor, you’ll at least know how to throw elegant dinner parties.” On one of the rare occasions when she was getting along with the other girls, they all decided to play a prank or the nun who watched over their floor. Sister Michael was stern and never seemed to find joy in life. Her main preoccupation was making sure there were no unwanted pregnancies under her watch. She seemed to have sonar when it came to detecting any boys on the floor. One night, after Sister Michael retired for the evening, Ma and the other girls totally trashed Sister Michael’s room. The whole thing was supposed to be a prank. Whoever thought it was funny to poke Sister Rottweiler with a stick was sadly mistaken. Mom was suspended from school. She was so embarrassed by whole incident; she left school and decided to take her chances in the Big Apple. She found herself living alone in New York. There she worked in a lab. After a few months struggling to pay the bills, she found a roommate. Rita was a very pleasant. They enjoyed spending the few times they’d see each other in between Rita’s night shift and mom’s work at the lab on Roosevelt Island. One day, Rita asked Ma if she wanted to go to a party; did she ever! Rita always talked about fancy parties held in swanky penthouse apartments. Who could say no to that? Mom would find a way out of her lab work and into a world of glittering parties with well-connected people. Her days as a nuclear medicine/finishing school dropout where going to pay off. Mom wore her best black Chanel knock-off dress and black satin gloves along with and a pair of Rita’s red pumps. When they got to the party, they found they were some of the few women there. Mostly, the party consisted of very well dressed men. Mom spotted some celebrities like Mickey Rooney, Jonathan Winters as well as local political leaders. The diversity of men varied. Then it happened. Mom spotted her favorite cowboy! Don “Red” Barry was chatting with a group. Rita introduced Ma and when it came to her cowboy, Ma was a drooling fool. She gushed over him like a crazed person. He asked her if she wanted to continue the conversation on the balcony. Ma, getting the opportunity to have a conversation with her favorite movie star was the penultimate event of her life. As they talked outside, Ma noticed men and women leaving the party. In about thirty minutes, the same women would come back looking unperturbed but the dates always never returned with them. Don picked up on Ma’s confusion and got the fact that she didn’t know quite what was happening. Turns out Rita had a secret; she was a very highly paid prostitute and thought Ma would make a lot of money by working the party with her. Ma was very attractive and looked like she could be in pictures. When Don explained what the “party” was all about, Ma was horrified. Don was kind enough to calm her down and stayed a gentleman by keeping an eye on her without making a pass. They both stayed out on the balcony talking all night into the early morning. By that time, almost all the guests had left or were passed out asleep in the living room. These were they kinds of stories mom told us. They weren’t stories about Tupperware parties or who was Miss Snow Queen 1951. She gave us kids a slew of information on grammar, how to impress wealthy people and why we shouldn’t be bothered by the neighborhood kids who always made our lives hell. She gave us an eclectic array of information and knowledge of things most kids had no idea existed let alone cared about. This is one of the reasons I never fit in. My view of the world varied greatly from most kids. For example, I also had no problem telling classmates what happens to your bone structure when an atomic bomb rips it to shreds or why different political parties work with corrupt politicians. This type of behavior usually made me the butt of jokes with other kids and the pariah of most parents. I found myself constantly trying to dodge abuse from other kids. At one point in the third grade, the bullying got so bad that I decided to quit school. At the age of ten, I’d had enough. I didn’t know where I was going, but soon after morning recess following the usual barrage of insults and abuse, I walked away from the playground and headed home. Mom was surprised when I got home but her usually daily six pack prevented her from any real interrogative thought. Soon, the vice principle arrived at the house looking for me. The incident made things worse once it got back to Mrs. Trimble’s class. Mrs. Trimble would join in with the kids in making me feel like an alien from another planet. She was a smarmy, self-centered, scourge of the Abington public school system. I absolutely hated her and let her know at every opportunity. Most kids liked her since she fit into the cookie cutter version of teaching. She was someone I hated more than the kids because she had the power to do something about the bullying but only encouraged it. She was just as much a bully as her students. I always prayed one day we’d get news she died of cancer, drowned in a mall fountain or was torn apart by wild dogs. One thing I noticed more than anything between the stifling and oppressive conformity of the 1970s suburbs were disparity in educations. In the Abington School District, kids had the best learning tools, books and teachers (save for Trimble). At this school, I took violin lessons in fourth grade (I was never good at it). We had things like oak tag instead of construction paper and even received a package of a cat’s bones in order to study how the thing was built. I don’t think any of us could figure out how to put a cat together by studying its bones. The contrast between the Philadelphia suburbs and its working class counterparts couldn’t be more pronounced; especially in quality of schools. Going from a well-funded suburban school to a working class catholic school could not be more different. In catholic school, we learned how to not question authority, how to stay in line and how to unflinchingly accept the teachings of the church. We were being groomed how to be good factory workers, how to stand in line for unemployment benefits and how to accept low paying work if you weren’t in a union job. How we moved back to Philadelphia was a nightmare in itself. When Dad stopped making payments on the mortgage, we were thrown out of the house and forced to leave the suburbs for good. I was never so happy to leave. Goodbye to nasty neighbors with their prim, perfectly manicured lawns. Goodbye to the snotty kids and their overly inflated egos. Goodbye to living in a world we could barely afford and really didn’t belong in. At the time, I thought the chance to fit in with such arrogant bastards was a tragedy. Now, I think it saved my life. As per usual, we kids had no idea we were actually leaving. That part would happen when the new owners showed up and started moving all our things out on the lawn. My parents had the uncanny ability to make childhood as traumatic as humanly possible. Dad and Ma had advance notice; never told us anything. It was a huge shock. The new home owners just walk in, taking our toys, clothes, and pictures and dumped them on the driveway. I was so angry, it was impossible to deny my parents had no advance notice. The embarrassment was at about a level twenty on a scale of one to ten. It was made worse by the new owners laughing and kidding around about what pieces of our belongings they was throwing out like garbage. It’s as though they were dealing with sub-race instead of actual human beings. They found it funny to kick us out and glad we were finally out of their house. It didn’t matter there were small kids involved in the eviction; the new owners were just as cruel as the kids at school. In many ways, getting out of Abington Township was a “Get out of Hell Free” card. My father wasn’t the most intelligent man. He was a hard worker but could only see things right in front of him; never the whole picture. He was a very attractive man when my parents met but life wore him down over the decades. To this day, I can’t figure out just what my parents saw in each other. They had absolutely nothing in common; not one thing. Dad’s father was connected to Philadelphia politics and well liked. My uncle and grandparents looked after Dad since he was usually creating a disaster out of his life in one way or another. Dad’s brother and father were always there to bail him out of one tragic event after the other. The mess he made out of his life was partially caused by his limited outlook on the world around him. He had epilepsy as well which complicated things. He crashed so many cars over the years but his father always hooked him up with another one. Granpop’s connections in the city also helped smooth over crisis after crisis. Dad didn’t connect with friends on a deep level; making him more isolated as the years went on. Grandpop got him a job working as a bartender. Dad was popular with the patrons. Since he owned a bar and Ma had an alcohol addiction, it was a match made in heaven. The same kind of match a diabetic would find if they married a baker or a gangster would find marrying a gun manufacturer. The crazy situation we lived in only got worse after settling in Philadelphia. The fights and physical abuse between my parents escalated until one day Dad moved out. Mom’s drinking became even more intense and so did the abuse, both physically and verbally. Many times we lived without knowing where the next meal was coming from. Many times the gas bill, the electric bill would go past due and the utilities cut off. It’s amazing how Gran would tell us what Mom was like before her mental health problems compared to the version we knew. I always felt ripped off. We never got the glamourous version; we got the version that was always in and out of mental hospitals and treatment centers. If it weren’t for the souvenirs and pictures Ma kept of her life in New York and awards achieved in High School, we’d swear she made it up the glamorous version out of some drunken delusion. Living through a childhood like mine makes you an outsider. It made me completely clueless what to do with feelings of lust, love and relationships in general. When you come from a past like that, you become an expert on how to survive. You become an expert at how to hurl insults but rarely know how to navigate a stable life. I found myself at a loss for words when anyone asked about my childhood. I remember the perfect suburban vision of childhood I saw in Abington Township and TV. I pulled from those images when I had to feed people answers about my younger years. After hanging around with Iggy, I didn’t feel as though I had to hide my past. I didn’t have to be embarrassed of my life and certainly didn’t feel weird talking it. I felt the same with Gina and a lot of her friends. We were all outsiders who came from similar insane childhoods but also had interests in things that most people had no clue existed or cared to learn about. Chapter – 13 A few days later, Iggy and I were soon becoming best friends. I kept thinking any excuse to spend time with him. Then I thought, The Pagoda! I haven’t been there in years and wanted to get up there since I came back to Reading. Once again, we took another trip of the mountain; my favorite place. As kids, Gran would take us there. It’s this Japanese/Chinese inspired landmark that was gifted to the city eons ago. Now it’s a symbol of the city itself. Even Reading Police wear a badge with the Pagoda on it. Inside you can walk up the seven or so floors to the top observatory where a Chinese gong from the 1700’s is on display. I hopped into the front seat of Iggy’s gas guzzling Pontiac, the smells that came from the interior of the car, the upholstery, the carpeting, all triggered memories of the night I fell in the street. I started getting flashes and memories in one and two second snippets. I remembered Iggy telling me how I’m going to be OK. He’s the guy who looked into my eyes and kissed me on the forehead. What was he doing kissing my forehead and saying everything’s going to be fine? That can’t be right. I have to be making it up in my mind. He threw his cigarette butt in the street. Just then, Iggy said, “’scuse me guy,” as he reached over and opened the glove compartment to stash away an old AAA map of Pennsylvania “Sorry the car’s a mess. I’m going to clean it out sometime this weekend but for now –“ “Uh, yeah…I mean, no, no, no, it’s OK, no problem,” I said. Wow! The smell of the upholstery and leather, Iggy’s leather wristband along with the scent of Iggy himself hit me like a bolt of lightning. There’s something about the scent Iggy gives off. It’s not an odor but more like an aroma. He had this smell of leather, whiskey and gasoline. It’s a scent that’s not as overpowering as whiskey and gasoline but it somehow put me at ease and calmed me down. I couldn’t understand the effect it was having on me. I had this instinctive feeling to touch him. Bang! The memory hit me. The whole night came flooding back. Iggy and Del driving me to the hospital and the part I liked the most; Iggy looking into my eyes and telling me everything was going to be OK. Sitting next to Iggy, his scent came back again with the breeze coming in through the window; it was like some aphrodisiac. It’s almost like we matched. We were in sync on some sort of chemical level because his scent was having an effect on my mind. I’d never felt that before; the feeling was powerful and amazing. I’d never smelled something or someone and felt such a powerful reaction to it. I rode along with Iggy and didn’t know what to say. I tried to concentrate on just the creaking sound his worn out suspension was making every time we hit a pot hole. I thought you have to stop this! Pull yourself together! Here I’m getting a nice offer from this nice person to take a nice trip to the Pagoda and all you want to do is create a disaster and ravage him. Just chill the hell out and have a nice “G-Rated” afternoon with Iggy. Iggy, who I want to pull over and kiss. His crooked smile is driving me crazy! Suddenly the drive went from just a joy ride to a struggle to control myself, to control this force that I could not describe. I felt this power, like a jolt in the middle of my chest. It was an electric feeling. I didn’t feel nervous and anxious just really alive. Iggy was so laid back and just all-around cool. His jet black hair combed forward, along with the tufts of chest hair sticking out of his t-shirt’s neckline, made me want to stare at him for too noticeable an amount of time. He looked over at me and smiled few times when we would stop at a light. As we drove through Reading I imagined Iggy thinking; don’t bring it up if he doesn’t! Be cool. He is really hot. I bet he’s a virgin. I love his eyes, they’re amazing. I’ve never seen any that blue before. He looks like some movie star! Iggy! You’re going to have a hard time explaining this to Del if we end up doing anything; which I’m pretty sure we will end up doing up here on the mountain. The massive Bonneville engine chugged slowly as it made the steep switchback turns leading up to skyline drive. Skyline was the road which ran the entire top ridge of Mount Penn. From there, you could look out over the entire city. From the top you could see the forests below and the parts of the city leading up to the foot of the mountain. You could see the art deco Berks County Courthouse, the Penn Street Bridge and even Ollenbach Mills across from Gran’s house on South 10th Street. It’s was an amazing view. We drove past the Fire tower, then past the spot where we first hopped over the wall; where Iggy pointed out the Peace sign carved in the mountain. We finally reached the Pagoda and found a parking space overlooking the city. The parking lot was deserted, even though it was only five in the afternoon. Now, it was getting dark. The skies were turning black. Iggy told me to roll up my window as the rain started to pour. It looked like we were in a dishwasher. The only thing I saw out of the windshield was sheets of rain, gallons of water pummeling the car. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to drive on these roads till the rain lets up,” Iggy said seriously. I agreed, “Yeah, they can get pretty slippery, especially on these tires.” Then I got nervous that I offended him with the remarks about his tires. “So, while we’re waiting for the rain to let up,” He put on his game show host voice, “Here’s a first contest. Welcome to the game, tell the audience where you’re from.” he said with that adorable crooked grin. He pointed a pretend microphone at me and threw his right arm across the back of the front bench seat. I stared a second because I couldn’t believe I was here, in this huge car, with nobody around. I played along sounding like a Midwestern housewife, “Hi, I’m Julie and I live and work in San Rafael, California. I’m ready to win BIG today! Whoo hoo!” We both laughed, I had to know more about him. I said, “Well, OK, let’s get to know each other,” I had an idea, “Let’s play twenty questions!” Iggy laughed, “Seriously? I haven’t done that since I was like twelve but OK. Who goes first?” I raised my hand, “Me, I do.” “OK, didn’t think this was how I was going to spend the day, but shoot. OK, ask me anything,” he said with this devious look. “Um, what’s your full name?” “My name? My full name? Um, OK. It’s Ignatius Gabriel O’Connor.” I knew the answer but asked anyway, “Irish?” “As the day is long, sir,” he said with a big grin, “OK, my turn. What’s your full name?” “We already did that one!” “I know but I didn’t get to ask you,” he said grinning. “You want my full name?” “Yeah.” “Um, OK. It’s Philip Thomas Croydon. I think it’s English or something like that.” “It sure sounds like royalty to me,” he repeated my name with a Monty Python character’s accent, “His highness, Prince Philip...Thomas…Croyden of Cheltenham by way of Luton, Hull and Ipswich.” I laughed at him. “If only I were royalty. That’s a pretty good accent, you’re funny…You, you’re a funny guy. But in truth, no massive amounts of money have ever touched my bank account.” Where was that wetness coming from; I was getting rained on from inside the car. I felt my shirt getting damp. No, not damp, soaking wet. “OK, I need something to wipe up with,” I pointed to a spot on my shirt, “I think your windshield is leaking.” “Damn! My brother was supposed to have that fixed. Here, get a few sheets of paper towel from off the back seat and then just stuff it in there.” I reached back and tore off some sheets, “where is it leaking?” “Right here,” he leaned over as he put his hand on my left shoulder to get at the leak. Again, I had that scent hitting my brain. He stuffed the paper into a small open gap between the windshield and the trim. My nerves were so shot. I hoped he wasn’t going to notice how this was getting me really crazy. If he looked down at my lap, he would have noticed. What was wrong with me? Here we are, up on the mountain, just killing time ‘till the rain passes over. He’s a nice guy, don’t ruin a friendship…but damn, he smells so good. “OK, so where were we?” He looked flustered as he pushed down the center arm rest to put some space between us. His eyes opened wide, “OK, so um, it’s your tur, um, turn.” “Do you have family living here?” He gave a sigh, “Yeah. They’re almost all a pain in the ass. There’s my brother Robbie and other brother Jason, I’ve told you about them. I’m the oldest. My mom’s gone and my dad is here in the city, but as you know, I usually don’t have much to say to him. That’s about it.” He glossed over a lot in that answer. I really wanted to get deeper but decided to drop it since we were just kidding around. He asked, “How about you? Do you have family here in Reading?” I really didn’t want to bring up some of my relatives but I could gloss over the answer too, “I have my grandparents, cousins and stuff on my mom’s side living here in Reading. However, my mom lives with my brothers and sister Eileen back in in Philly.” “I see,” Iggy tried to think of something to ask, “So...um…why did you move here?” I blurted out the answer before for thinking about it, “I hate my mom. I know that sounds really bad.” I didn’t know if I should have been that candid. However, I felt I could just say anything to Iggy and it would be fine. I’m usually not like that at all. Growing up in a big city, you keep your wits about you. You never give personal information to someone you know for a short amount of time. You never want to catch yourself being vulnerable. Talking about family trauma could be a big problem. I don’t know if Iggy would tell Gina or Del. However, I felt that safe feeling. He wouldn’t hurt me. I feel that somehow but I don’t know if that’s a huge mistake. One thing I’ve learned with deep feelings, never share them. Never make yourself emotionally exposed. So where was I? Oh, that’s right! I’m in some stranger’s car in the pouring rain - all by ourselves - atop Mount Penn. There’s certainly nothing ‘serial killer’ about the whole thing. OK, he’s not a serial killer. I think he’s not. I’ll have to trust him with that. If he’s not worthy of trust, I’ll soon know it. Reading is a small place and the gay community even smaller. If I know he’s told others about what we’ve talked about or the places we’ve gone, I’ll soon hear about it. If that’s the case, he’ll be out of my life in a flash. I’ll then kick myself for not staying with my golden rule: don’t let anyone in. Iggy said, “I think we all hate our parents from time to time. Me, I usually can’t get along with my brothers. One’s an attorney for CJA Corporation and the other is some yuppie, wanna be, office clerk.” I had to ask, “So, where do you fit in?” “Well, sort of the ‘black sheep’ of the family. I didn’t want to run Dad’s business. So I skipped off to New York for a year. When I came back dressed in black and leather, Dad told me to get out. I was pretty much expecting that reaction. My brothers and I are on a polite basis but if I talk to either of them about hating Reagan, their heads almost explode; they LOVE Reagan.” I laughed and said, “You? Not a republican? Don’t like Nancy and Ronny?” I put the ball in his court, “OK, it’s your turn.” He started clowning around. He answered with a baritone southern accent, “Mine, eh? It’s my turn? It’s just my turn, you say? It’s really my turn to take and mine alone?…is that what you’re saying, eh?” “Idiot.” “Ok, Ok,” he stifled a laugh, pulled himself together and asked me as if we were in a courtroom, “Mr. Croyden, Um, are you wearing or not wearing underwear upon your personage; namely, in the vicinity of your lower “naughty bits” region, right now?” “WHAT??” I laughed this nervous high pitched squeaking sound, “Uh, duh! Sure. Don’t you?” “Affirmative,” he looked under his jeans and looked back, “However, your honor, I have no underwear on at the moment.” “OK, that was something else, I’m not sure what,” I let out a slow sigh, “Alright, I know this question is corny but what’s your sign?” Hoping he doesn’t notice shakiness in my voice. Just then a lightning bolt hit in the horizon and a loud low thunderous boom could be heard. I guess God didn’t like the way the conversation was going. He looked puzzled, “Why is that corny?” “It sounds like a line out of a 70’s porn film, ‘Hey, baby! What’s your sign?’” He laughed, “Well, let me consult my mood ring and pet rock first. Seems like you know you’re porn, eh?” I started to turn red. He went back to the questions, “What was I? Ah, got it. I am a… I’m a Gemini. You? What’s your sign, bay-bee?” “I’m a Scorpio. But I have to ask, why didn’t you know?” “Didn’t know what?” “Your sign; I thought everybody knew that.” “I know it, just forgot the name of it.” He looked like he was getting a little nervous. Then something I said dawned on him, “Oh, damn, you’re a Scorpio! They’re one of the kuh-raze-eee-est, signs in the zodiac! It’s one of the freakiest ones in bed too. Now you’re in my car! Should I be worried?” “Well, I mean, I’m not dangerous, if that’s what you mean,” I looked at him a minute, “Yeah, um well. So what is your-“ “Whoa, hold on Sir Philip –“ “Prince Philip –“ He said, “Whatever…this is my question, right?” “Yeah, you’re right. Go ahead.” My mind was going a mile a minute, what the hell was he going to ask me next? I’m not sure I want to answer. What the hell was I thinking? Why did I come up here in the first place? No, pull it together. Don’t stammer so much or he’ll know something’s not right. “What is your next um, you know…um…I can’t think of the…why can’t I think of the word? “Question? You mean Question?” I turned red. I felt my cheeks were blushing and I couldn’t stop, “Yes.” “Um, let me see,” he looked up while tapping his chin, “What are…. some of your favorite bands?” “Um, well, I like Kim Wilde, Pink Floyd, The Vapors, and The Go Gos. I mean, that’s just some of them.” “Ok, those are acceptable,” as he gave his seal of approval and drummed his fingers on the dashboard. “Alright, I feel that’s a good sign, or something like that,” I looked him over, “So, my turn; where do you get your clothes from and the wristband with the spikes?” “Where do I get my clothes? Well, I mostly get them from Zipperhead or thrift stores around here. Ever been there, South Street in Philly?” He looked at me hoping I knew what he was talking about? “Oh yeah, I love that place! The owner’s a dick, but other than that,” I laughed. “Yeah, he is a real dick. He got mad because I almost walked out with this,” as he showed me the spiked leather wristband. “Is it because…you were trying to lift it? Steal it? Iggy blushed, “Yeah, well, I just getting it to its rightful owner; me,” he said. “So, let’s see what else I can ask you…um…um.” He looked me over thoughtfully and said “How do you know Gina?” He was asking for information he already knew. “Gina? Wow, I don’t know. I think I met her at that record shop at the Berkshire Mall,” I said, trying to bluff my way through that one. “Reeeeally? I don’t think Gina goes to the mall. Are you sure it was there?” He was questioning me like a game show host, all the while knowing the answer. “Remember Croydon, this will determine whether you get the washer, dryer, Chevy Vega, AND the trip to Cancun. *tick*, *tick*, *tick*” “Um, maybe it was downtown? Not sure. She’s funny though, ain’t she? So, do I win the trip to San Diego?” “You mean Cancun?” “Yeah, Cancun. Why did I say San Diego?” Iggy grinned, “I love Gina. She’s really great,” his voice trailed off, “OK, you go next.” “I have to ask….are you wearing cologne?” “Am I what?” He started cracking up, “You think I smell good? Is that it?” That’s it, I did it. I gave it away. I’ve been thinking about that scent since we got in the car. It’s distracting me to no end. He’s going to get the idea I’m attracted to him. Now he’s going to get a clue and get really pissed off that I’m making a pass at him. Get ready boy, it’s going to be a long walk down the mountain. How could I be such a dumb-ass? “OK, Phil. No, as a matter of fact, I don’t wear it. I hate the stuff. Why do you ask?” he folded his arms, “Now I’m curious.” In my skull, I could feel a massive rush of adrenaline; I thought I was going to have a heart attack. I tried to think up something quick, “I thought it smelled like my cologne, that’s all. Not that I’m wearing it now or anything. I just…well, I guess, you know. Just forget it,” hoping he would soon. “OK, now it’s my turn. Have you met a girl since you’ve been out here? Are you dating anyone? Or are you still a virgin?” That’s one of many questions I wish he wouldn’t have asked. What do I say? Lie? I can’t lie, Gina knows everything and everyone. She’d drop a dime on me in a heartbeat. OK, here goes, “Dating? No, um, no. Not dating. Not, ya know, anyone at this point,” I had to get off this line of questioning fast, “OK, OK, now it’s my turn. Have you always smelled like, I mean liked to, I mean, lived in Reading?” “Um, wow. I don’t know which question is the actual question. Let’s see, here. Reading, no not all my life; for a time we lived in Philly.” “Really, I grew up there! Where in the city did you live?” Iggy had to think, “Well, I was little, I think West Oak Lanes? I think that’s what it’s called.” “Oh, I’ve never been there. I heard it’s nice,” which was a lie. I heard it was a bullet riddled war zone. He stared at me, looking square in the eyes. We didn’t say anything. Not a word. We just looked at each other. He gave this slight smile and a little nervous laugh and looked down shaking his head. I didn’t know what to do. The silence seemed to get louder and louder. He said something to himself, gripped the steering wheel and looked down at the floor. Then, sort of under his breath said, “I promised her I wouldn’t…OK, I just…OK, screw it, I’m going to just try something here-“ He leaned over and kissed me! He took his hand and slowly wrapped it around the back of my neck as pulled me closer. I couldn’t believe this was happening! It all felt like it was going in slow motion. Is this a dream? Am I really awake? He pulled back. “You OK with this?” “Yeah, um, yeah” “OK guy, me too. This is really NOT what I thought I’d be doing today,” he smiled and continued to kiss my neck and licked my ear. The rain was still dumping gallons of rain on the car. I couldn’t see out and I’m pretty sure, nobody could look in. He said “I really think you’re a handsome guy. I love your eyes. I always thought that since that first night when I put you in that wheel chair at the ER,” he winced when he realized what he just admitted to. “What do you mean, ‘always’? So it’s true? That night, you’re the guy?” Iggy knew he was caught. “Um, well. I have to tell you-“ “That you’re the guy that dropped me off at the ER and left me there on the sidewalk?” “Yeah, I’m the guy. So you do remember me? I wasn’t going to say anything,” Iggy felt ashamed of not saying anything. He felt horrible for just dropping off a body outside the ER and not telling to the staff where he found him. He looked and tilted his head, “I thought you might be embarrassed. I’m so sorry about that. I was really worried after I left you with the paramedics. That’s why I stopped by to see you at the hospital.” He looked straight ahead, “That was a crazy night. I mean, I didn’t try to run you over or anything. I swear it. You were just lying in the middle of the alley but I stopped the car just before we-“ “Iggy, it’s OK. I feel bad you guys had to deal with that. But wait a minute. I remember there being paramedics. I’m sure of it.” “I motioned for them to come check you out before we drove off. For the record, having a disease, it’s nothing to feel ashamed of,” he reached over and grabbed my shoulder; “You can’t help it. “On the other hand, you did scare the fuck out of us but other than that,” he tried to make me laugh but it wasn’t working. He continued, “After I left, I kept thinking about you. Is that screwed up? I mean, we didn’t date, we didn’t do anything. All I did was get you to a hospital. But I looked at you and I really felt this pull. I guess that really sounds stupid. It’s hard to describe.” “Well, I had that same reaction to you.” Iggy slowly pushed the center armrest up, moved closer and started kissing me again, my chest, my neck. With his eyes closed and his face in my chest he said, “Yeah? Tell me about it.” “Well, I was really happy to see you at Gina’s,” I can’t stand it! I want to rip his jeans off and feel all of him, and then just screw him in the front seat! “I uh…OH God, that feels just amaze-” I was losing it. I didn’t think I could hold off. I was having a difficult time keeping control. If he kept this up I was going over the edge. I’d make a mess in my shorts. Iggy put his hand on my zipper and started to open my jeans as he squeezed the shaft. He put his hand into my jeans and squeezed the tip where there was already a wet spot on the fabric of my underwear. He wasn’t paying attention to a word I was saying. I went on, “I didn’t know how to contact you. Hell, I didn’t know you were gay till today,” He was pushing all the right spots. How did he know how to do this? I was losing it, fast. ”Iggy,” he wasn’t listening, he was intent on working me over, “….Iggy, I think you’re going to have to slow down because…oh fuck…Slow down, I’m just about to-” Iggy slowly sat upright and grinned, “Feel good?” “Yeah, fuckin’ awesome!’, you almost made me-“ “I’ve been thinking about this since I first saw you,” he said in a low whisper. I confessed, “I thought you were straight. I just thought you were this really hot, straight guy who was tall, handsome, with a killer smile,” I didn’t dare tell him Gina gave me the low down on who he likes to have sex with. I needed to hear it from him. “Oh, you like the smile, eh?” He slowly grinned again. “Yeah, um yes. I do. I mean, I wouldn’t have ever thought you were into guys.” He sat up straight, looked a little annoyed, “Well, I’m not actually gay, I’m bi.” “I’m sorry Iggy, I didn’t mean to –“ “Some people think that’s bullshit; that I can’t commit to being one thing or the other,” he calmed down. “I don’t know, I mean, I am who I was meant to be. Sorry for getting a little pissed off. I’m not pissed at you. It’s just frustrating. It’s just, I don’t judge other people for being straight or gay, you know. People just don’t get me; they don’t understand who I am. Why don’t they? Why is it so difficult for people to understand, eh? I mean, I think you do. You’re OK with it, right?” “No, that’s cool. I guess a lot of people don’t understand it; especially in a place like Reading. I’ve heard a lot of people say that there’s no such a thing as being bisexual. Either you’re one thing or the other.” “Yeah, I’m the ‘un-defined value’ you find in math problems. I don’t fit everyone’s equation.” There was an uncomfortable pause; an awkward silence. I took a moment to think. I said, “Iggy, I feel the same about myself. So, I get that part. I’ve spent my whole life trying to keep people from knowing I’m Gay. Well, that and just how effed up my home life was. I never fit in with all the other guys I knew because of it. I mean, I got teased, beat-up a lot in high school. Hell, I didn’t even know any other people like me. I read about other gay people but you’re the first guy I ever made out with.” “I’m your first? No pressure there,” he laughed, “You seem like a natural.” He put his arm around my shoulder, “so let’s just do this-” Iggy leaned forward and started kissing me again. However, this time I started kissing him back. I felt his inner thigh. I slowly pushed in back against the driver’s side door. I reached for his chest and felt his pecs. I reached down and tried to undo his belt. He quickly undid his belt and the top button of his jeans as we frantically kept kissing. I reached over and pressed on the warm mound under his zipper. Just then, he stopped and looked up at me. He sort of cocked his head, “I really like you and I don’t know why.” “Yeah, that’s me too. I like you. I don’t get it. I just know that something about you really lights me up.” He started laughing, “Lights you up? You mean like a Christmas Tree or a 100 watt bulb?” I pulled him towards me, “Like this,” I kissed him very slowly on his forehead, and then his cheek, then his nose, and then his chin, and finally his lips. We heard a car approaching. Iggy shot up and looked out the rear view mirror then over his shoulder. We were both terrified we’d get caught, especially by the police. They usually patrol Mount Penn looking for people selling drugs or drinking. Iggy buttoned his jeans and adjusted his belt. I quickly put myself back in order as I heard Iggy take a deep sigh, “So, with that, I should …um should I drive you back to your folks place?” The rain was slowing. The sun was shining in the distance under the last of dark clouds clearing away in the distance. He said, “This probably isn’t the best place or time for making out but it sure was great.” “Yeah, it was amazing. You are one hot man.” We didn’t know what we were doing and neither of us expected that was how we were going to start off. But I knew it was going to be a wild ride. He dropped me off at Gran’s. He opened the door for me but first (after cautiously looking around), gave me a quick kiss. I stepped out of the car, “Later Iggy!” “See you later, Philip Thomas Croydon!” He smiled, winked at me and off he went. I think this is it. I’ve let myself be vulnerable and as a result, I’ve met the love of my life. I know this is right. There’s no way anyone could convince me that Iggy and I were truly meant for each other. Now I know he’s in love with me just as much as I am with him. Chapter 14 I could not believe the day was finally here; the day I am finally getting married to Iggy Gabriel O’Connor. I looked at myself in the mirror with my black formal tuxedo; white tie and tails. I looked down at the shine of my black oxfords and brushed the front of my coat to be sure there was no cat fur on it. Gran came up to make sure I’m ready and to steady my nerves. She was wearing a smart peacock green dress with a large broach pinned to the side. Gran said, “Are you ready for this? It’s a big decision. If you have any doubts, better say it now or forever hold -” I looked at her reflection in the mirror, “I’ve never been more ready in my life.” We could hear the Westminster chimes of St. Paul’s church. The parking lock was packed with cars as the last of the guest filed into the church and took their seats. There was Sharon and Kim. Julie was there and my aunts and uncles. “Looks like it’s time to get to the alter and face the music,” Gran said with a huge smile. At the church, I walked up the aisle, Iggy standing there with the priest and all of our friends present. Iggy’s brothers Robby and Jason stood next to him. My brothers, Kenny and Rich were on my side. The church was beautifully decorated. White floral bunting and groups of flowers tied to the end of each pew. I walked up the aisle with Del. Then standing next to Iggy, I thought I would jump out of my skin. I could not stop the tremors. To be cautious, I took an extra pill to be sure I would not go into a seizure from nerves and the excitement of the day. The words of the priest went by in a blur. Finally he said, “By the power vested in me by the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania and the Catholic Church, I now pronounce you both as joined in holy matrimony. Iggy leaned in and we kissed as our friends and family applauded. I saw Gran sitting next to my sister. Eileen had tears streaming down her face and was just elated to see me married off in this most unconventional way. The priest spoke up, “Ladies and Gentlemen, may I present to you, Mister and-“ My eyes opened, staring at the white painted ceiling. I rolled over on my side and heard the constant tick of the Baby Ben clock on the nightstand. Lovey was curled up next to me with a slight purr. I reached over and scratched the top of his head. I had to get up but I did not want to yet. I wanted to live in my dream. It was an amazing feeling and seemed so real. Then the stone cold logic of day-to-day reality kicked in; men cannot marry other men. The whole idea, after all, did sound crazy. I tried to re-imagine what I saw in my dream but could not seem to conjure it up. I felt tears welling up. It will never happen. I will never know what it is to take a vow of devotion to one man in front God, family and friends. Never know what it’s like to celebrate together in a large reception hall with my husband, Iggy O’Connor. Well, enough of that insane thinking; time to get real. Those things just do not happen. Just get over it. That was a dream; time to get up, face the day, and get back to reality. Even though I know a wedding would never happen, at least not legally; I wondered about a commitment ceremony. If Iggy felt the same strong feelings I did, I needed to know. We’ve been hanging out together for a few months but I’ve never got the impression he ever wanted anything more than that. Even after our trip to the Pagoda, I couldn’t tell if it was just sex or more than that? Was I making the whole thing up in my mind? Was I deluding myself? It was early Sunday Morning. The skies were dark and gray. It looked as if it was going to rain but at least the air is cooler compared to yesterday’s heat and humidity. The house was totally quiet. Even the cats are asleep and draped on various pieces of living room furniture. Granpop isn’t awake yet and Gran was at her sister’s place, dropping off a borrowed casserole dish. I’m sure there was also a liberal exchange of gossip about just about everyone in the family. I was reading the Sunday paper. The part I loved most was the magazine insert. Sometimes that was way more interesting than stories of explosions in a far off countries or sports scores. Apparently the Phillies are doing great this year? I barely know what they do on a field let alone whether their winning or losing. I got startled as the phone’s piercing, metallic ring fills the room. “Hello?” “Hey dude, it’s Iggy! Whatcha doing? Hope I didn’t get you up?” Oh hell no. Just an hour or two ago we were getting married and now I’m sitting here with the paper watching the cat sleep. I said, “No, I’m up”. “You busy?” Iggy asked. “Um…no. No, not busy. What’s up?” I asked. Iggy said, “Come on over. Help me with something”. That made me happy; no, more like elated. I’m getting out of boredom jail and going to hang with my favorite guy, the one I can’t stop thinking about. “I’ll drive over. What’s the address again”? I knew damn well what the address was. Iggy exhaled a puff of his cigarette, “5448 Charles St.” I knew everything “Iggy” by heart. His brother’s address, Iggy’s favorite songs (ABBA), his favorite type of car (’69 Camaro), his exact eye color (light brown), shoe size (twelve) and preferred brand of toothpaste (Close-Up). I answered him with the same tone a person uses to a ask stranger for a light. I tried to sound clueless/non-chalant, “Oh yeah, that’s right. It’s near West Penn Ave?” Iggy said, “Yeah, come on over.” I didn’t want to sound overly excited. “I’ll be there in a few. See ya.” “Great”, Iggy said, “See ya, Mr. Croydon.” I couldn’t wait to see him again. I hurried out the door, locked it, bounded down the front steps and jogged to the car. I turned the ignition key, but the Duster wasn’t having it. “C’mon damn it.” Finally the engine turned over with a roar. I sped off. I took me all of fifteen minutes to careen through West Reading and pull up in front of Iggy’s brother’s house. As I got out of the car, I noticed the garage door was open. The hood to Del’s Chevy Nova was up. Iggy popped his face around the side and motioned me over. I took a seat on a beat up vinyl kitchen chair near the door. The radio on; WEEU’s disc jockey announced a reminder to watch out for strong thunder storms and flash flooding in the afternoon as “Sundown” by Gordon Lightfoot began. As I started to comment on the weather, Iggy put his hand up like he’s stopping traffic. At the song’s chorus, Iggy started singing and closed his eyes like he was trying to see something in his mind, trying grab onto a memory before it faded out. His baritone voice filled the garage. He stopped and listened to the next few bars until the chorus came around. Iggy pointed at me, prompting to sing along with him. I smiled and slowly joined him; trying to remember the words. It’s been a while since I heard that song. The last chorus, I started signing the harmony, Iggy the melody. It sounded like we were completely and totally in sync with each other. I couldn’t’ ever forget that moment. It’s one that sticks with a person for the rest of their lives and always brings a smile. As the last bars of the song fade off, Iggy yowled at the top of his lungs as he switched off the radio, “Damn, I love that song!” I grinned and looked at him, “We sound good together, eh?” Iggy stared at me, slowly smiled that crooked smile and winked at me. Then he motioned me over. Iggy picked up a ratchet wrench lying on an old rag flung over the front fender and continued working on the engine. “What’s wrong with it?” I asked, even though I had no clue how car engines work. It would be great if I did. Every car Gran ever had needed a tune up or at least sounded like it. Iggy answered me while tightening a bolt which held that car battery in place. “I thought you’d want to take a trip with me to the junk yard.” I laughed and started clapping my hands like a three year old whose mom offered him a chance to get a Popsicle from an ice cream truck. “Oh Goody! I can’t wait! When do we go? When do we go?” Iggy laughed, takes the oily rag off the fender and throws it at me, “Dickhead, nh. Now. Wanna go or what?” “Yeah, sure. Whatcha gettin’?” Iggy looked around cautiously and quickly, and then gave me a kiss. He surveyed the engine, “Baby needs a replacement for this crap alternator. Well, that and a few replacement belts from Kmart.” My eyes got wide with mock indignation, “So… you want a ride? That’s why you asked me over?” Iggy shut the massive hood to his land yacht. He slapped me on the butt, “Yeah, I wanna ride. Gotta problem with that, boy? Huh?” I looked him up and down, “You’re going dressed like that?” Iggy looked down at his shirt, threw his arms out wide and answered “yeah…so you ready to bounce or what?” In all actuality, I didn’t care what Iggy looked. Anytime he was anywhere near me, I was in heaven. Didn’t matter what Iggy looked like, I would follow him however, for whatever to wherever. I winked at Iggy and said, “I’m always ready to bounce.” Iggy smiled, “I noticed that, you slut.” We headed out. I got in the car and watched Iggy pull down the garage door. As he crouched down to lock it, I looked at Iggy’s backside and caught a glimpse of his white jockey short’s waist band. I could imagine what Iggy looked like without those dirty jeans; just standing there in nothing but his underwear. I watched Iggy walk down the driveway with his usual slow strut. Soon the Duster’s heavy metal door made a screeching sound as he hopped in and said “Let’s go, boy.” Chapter 15 – Saturday, New Year’s Day 1983 January 1, 1983 That morning was cold. I stayed up to see the ball drop with Gran and the cats then went to bed. Happy New Year 1983. I had the day off; the city was quiet with very little activity on the streets at 10 am. My regular store was closed so I had to walk up to Penn Street and found a store that was open. The owner’s didn’t celebrate our version of New Year’s Day, Thank God. I didn’t want to go home yet. I didn’t want to run into Grandpa again. He was his usual miserable self and gave me an attitude because I was in the bathroom for too long. If I knew he’d be pissed off, I would have taken more time. I still haven’t heard from Iggy since the day after Christmas. I keep thinking it’s crazy to think about that. There’s been no word from him since I left a message with Del for him call me. Not much I can do about it but it feels like hell all the same. The skies were slate grey, casting a light that took all the color out of everything and left a blanket of gloom on every surface. It made me more depressed. I had the latest of my song obsessions taped off the radio. I turned up the volume on my Walkman. The trumpets blare out the intro to a new Adam Ant song that’s all about people wanting to know who you’re sleeping with and the frequency there of. It’s none of their business. I thought, that is so true, it’s not anyone’s business. Everyone at the Scarab was speculating about Iggy and me. Of course, none of them knew for sure since neither of us talked about it. The one exception was we did talk about it with other people we trusted wouldn’t say a word. Iggy was afraid of losing his job at the group home if people knew about us. As for me, I’m scared of telling Gran. She has an idea about us but she didn’t want to bring it up unless I did. She respected my space. Then again, I don’t know if there was anything between Iggy and me. We spent time together; we laughed and got drunk together. There’s this tension between us but nothing had happened more than just making out and feeling each other up. I wonder if it’s me. Maybe I come across too gay, too young or too flighty? Something about me has to be the problem. He’s got it together way more than me. I don’t want to keep calling him and since he’s not really calling back, I think I should just take the hint. Gina asked if I would go out with her and Fester. I can’t remember what his actual name is. Hell, I don’t even think Gina remembers. We’re supposed to hang out at the AM PM on Perkioman Ave at 9 tonight. George is running the store and he said it’s supposed to be super boring since it’s New Year’s Day. I don’t agree, I think it’s going to be busy since it’s one of the few things open. My mood has gotten darker. My clothes match. I have on a dark grey wool coat that comes down to my knees and has padded shoulders. It’s from the late 40’s. It was Granpop’s and Gran kept it all these years. She’s a bit of a pack rat. I’m glad he hasn’t said anything about me wearing it because a). I don’t give a shit what Granpop has to say and b) I look great in it. I have on my checkered converse and everything else is black, like my mood. I don’t know where the depression is coming from but I have an idea. And when I start to think about the source of It, I have to stop myself. I can’t handle it; maybe someday but not today. I find myself drinking more and losing myself in my music. Since Gina, I’ve found a whole new world of underground music, most from the UK. I want the truth and how I was raised and what it pointed us towards is a sick joke. There are no great jobs waiting around the corner for someone with a high school diploma. The jobs in Reading are pretty much ones that pay crap. My drinking and cigarettes cut into my pay too much but when I work, get paid, I should be able to afford all that, right? I was raised thinking if you do the right thing, America will reward you with opportunity. That seems to be a lie. Reagan’s America is for the well connected, for the rich and screw everyone else. The newly minted Reagan regime makes you guilty for not having a ton of money. Everyone is supposed to pull themselves up by the bootstraps. If you can’t afford boots, that’s your problem. Somehow, the message is one thing and the actions are another. Reagan and the conservatives, just like Thatcher in the UK are all about helping the greedy. They come up with this “trickle down” garbage. That makes no sense. If I had a lot of money, the last thing I’m concerned about is cash trickling down to the lower paid workers. Why would I? If made a ton of money, then getting more money is the only thing matters. Plus, isn’t that what the Republicans say? If you want a ton of money, don’t wait for a hand out. Isn’t trickling down a hand out? We’re supposed to all just quit our jobs, become entrepreneurs and become amazingly wealthy. That part will never happen, at least not in my life. The wind gusts were hitting me in the face and making my ears hurt. I couldn’t wait to get back home. I hopped up the steps and opened the vestibule door. Muzzy walked over slowly and stretched. I must have woken him up. “What’s up Muzz?” I scratched his ears. Gran was up. “Where did you go? I didn’t hear you leave? She said. “I had to run out to get cigarettes,” I said. She asked, “You went out and couldn’t tell me?” “Gran, what’s the big thing, eh? I went to the store. It’s not a big thing.” I told her with an exasperated sigh. “That’s not the point. I’m out of butter and milk. If you told me you were going out, I would have asked you to get them.” She said. “Gran-“I whined, She cut me off, “Phil, here’s some money. Go back out there and get me those things.” She said pointing my way out the door. I took the money out of her hand and clomped out the door like a spoiled child. Half way through the living room, the phone rings; it’s Gina. “Hey, it’s me. You still going tonight?” she asked. “Yeah, where do you want to meet?” I asked. “I’ll have Terry pick you up. See you then.” She hung up. Gran called out from the kitchen, “Who was that?” “Gina.” I said. “She’s always calling you. Don’t you think you spend too much time with her?” she asked. “Gran, we’re just going to hang out tonight and watch TV,” I explained. “OK, well, bring your key and don’t make a lot of noise when you come in,” she said, “Oh, and I need to talk to you about something when you get back.” “What?” I asked. “Don’t worry about it. It’s just something,” she said. Well, that made it “crystal clear” and now had my mind thinking all kinds of things. Is she going to go into another “I know we talked about this before but your drinking is starting to get out of hand” talks or “I think you shouldn’t be spending so much time with Gina” type talks. I know she said that since Grandpop was in his usual spot with a TV tray chomping through is usual greasy bacon and eggs. I was not looking forward to the talk. When I got back, Gran asked if I would drive behind her on her way to get the Plymouth fixed. Gran always seemed to have two old use cars that always seemed to be in Mr. Wildred’s shop at least once every two months. She used one car for getting to and from work; the other was used by Granpop. Even so, he barely used it. Gran always liked Mr. Wildred. He was an elderly black mechanic that lived above his garage with his invalid wife. He always talked slowly and deliberately and was always very polite. I was amazed how he could deal with the barrage of questions Gran would throw at him as though she was trying to be her own mechanic. He was an excellent mechanic and an honest one. He could spot problems and explain why the part went bad or how to prevent an issue coming up with another part that was just about to conk out. “You know, Mr. Wildred is such a nice colored man. He’s very reasonable.” Gran confided one time. “He’s ‘colored’? I asked. “Yeah, colored,” she answered. I was confused. I never heard that phrase. It made no logical sense. How can he be colored and not me? I mean, we’re all colored. I have a color; I’m not made of glass. How is he colored and I’m not? “Gran, that makes no sense. He has a color but not me? I asked. “Oh, you know what I mean,” she answered. “No, really, what you said makes no logical sense,” I said. “Ok, OK, I know now they’re called ‘black’ but in my day, we called them colored,” she said growing impatient. “Well, that’s a stupid way to classify people. I mean, we’re all some color. Black people are a different color but that doesn’t mean white isn’t a color,” I said. “OK, let’s drop it,” she said. That was it. It still made no sense but that was part of the world in general. We have enough nuclear warheads to blast the planet apart but that was just the way things are. We have people starving in the streets and not getting basic food or medical care but that’s just the way things are. Some people are colored and some are made of glass. Well, why is that? Why is that the answer; why not change the way things are? How about that? The whole world spins day after day and the answer never seems to come. Chapter 16 – January 3, 1983 I walked down Franklin Street with my hands stuffed in my coat pockets on a bright sunny Monday morning. The temperature was around freezing. I had one of my cassettes blasting “Gloria” by U2 in my frozen ears. By the end of the song, I was singing it at full volume not caring what I looked like. I loved that song so much. I just wanted to shout it as loud as I could. Music is with me. Music is this constant soundtrack that plays in the background of my mind and reflects my mood. It was too cold to hold a cigarette; I was just trying to wake myself up on the eight blocks from Gran’s all the way down to CCBC. The starting time was 9 am. I thought, it should be a slow day. Now that we’re right after a holiday, I bet people will be doing other things rather than stop by our office. Janice Switzer will have to dream of something for me to do. I hate it when I’m bored. I was happy to defrost in the CCBC lobby. At the office, Janice was busy typing correspondence. I took over the duties to greet and assist students. I also decided to take Gran and Janice’s advice to enroll in school. My class started at 1 p.m., English 101. I started with one course to get my feet wet and decide if it’s for me. Sharon goaded me into that class since we’d take it together. After class, I couldn’t wait to get a smoke. Sharon and I chatted about the class but just then, walking across the street, was the love of my life! There he was, that black trench coat whipping back and forth as he jogged across Second Street. I was so happy to see him; I didn’t care why he wasn’t around for the past few days. I shouted out, “Iggy! What are you doing here, boy?” “Just going to hang out with you and Sharon if you don’t mind,” he said with a broad grin and mischief in his eyes. He always looked like he was plotting something we shouldn’t be doing. We sat at one of the few empty tables. Now that classes started up again, the whole school was full of people racing to get somewhere. Ramon Cruz walked up to our table and shook Sharon slowly by the shoulders, “Hey! What are you doing here?” Ramon was nineteen, short and slim. He had amazing black hair that he kept combed perfectly. He wore very preppy, conservative clothes. He was a Jehovah’s Witness and very active in the church. Ray always looked respectable and always looked adorable. I couldn’t understand why he was single? I think he was a little on the shy side. One day, he’ll probably marry someone from the church, buy a house and have a few kids. I talked with him occasionally here and there at CCBC. I came out to him at one of our talks hoping he was too. He didn’t get bothered by my revelation; he wasn’t fazed by it. He was sure to point out he wasn’t into guys; just so we were on the same page. He told me how he was engaged back in Puerto Rico but was left standing at the altar. I think his bride-to-be’s father was upset Ray wasn’t Catholic. I never understood that. Why would she just walk out on such a stable, responsible and good looking guy? I liked that we didn’t just waste time talking about stupid stuff. We always got into some deep political or philosophical conversations. I liked that he wasn’t liberal, that he had views that weren’t in line with mine. He challenged the way I thought about the world. I admired him for that. He also had the cutest butt. I couldn’t help it. I knew he wasn’t gay, but more than one person commented on it. I wonder if he knew what was happening when he walked out of a room. He would probably die of embarrassment; probably the reason no one ever told him. Sharon shot up and hugged him, “Ramon!! How are you?” “Ok, ok, just starting class in a few minutes and wanted to say ‘hi’. I didn’t know you were going to be here? How many classes are you taking?” he said eagerly. “Oh, I’m just doing three this semester, English 101, Sociology 201 and Art of the Western World.” Ramon compared notes, “Who did you get for Sociology?” “Santi, I hear she’s tough.” Ramon squinted, “Really? Well, good luck with that.” He laughed and patted her on the back. “Good seeing you Sharon! Good seeing you Phil.” “Later Ray,” Sharon said as she turned to Iggy and me. “So Iggy, what’s up? What’s new? How was your Christmas?” Sharon asked. Iggy adjusted his black trench coat lapels and took out a cigarette from the front pocket, “Nothing much; just wanted to see Phil, that’s all.” He leaned back on the plastic chair with his hands folded on top of his belt. “I can understand that but you have to watch out,” Sharon leaned in and said in a whisper, “I hear Phil is a sex criminal.” He whispered back, “I was hoping he was.” I smiled, blushed and punched Iggy in the shoulder, “Well, you’re in luck!” I went into my TV commercial sales pitch,”I’m a sex-o-matic model 4121. I’m made to fulfill your desires at fifty percent off the other models. There’s also a cash rebate, but you have to act fast.” Sharon laughed; grabbed her book bag, “OK, if you two are going to talk like that, I’m outta here.” Phil thought, man this is weird. I never thought I’d be sitting in a college cafeteria with a cool friend and my boyfriend at the same time. This is not how I thought my life would be turning out right now. “Bye Sharon, see you Wednesday.” Iggy gave her a wink and a salute. I looked at him, damn, I think I’m going to go crazy on him and kiss his face right here. Right here in the cafeteria in front of everyone. He is so handsome. We really are great for each other. That scruffy five o’clock shadow, how did he know I liked that? I can see us being together for years and years. “Hey, what you listening too?” he said pointing at my Walkman. “Just U2” “Really?” he lit up, “I love them.” “’October’, so far it’s a good album.” Iggy rattled off some of the song titles but then said “I think ‘Gloria’ has to be my favorite on the whole thing.” “Me too, I was just doing my version of it as I walked over here. Of course, I was getting looks the whole way.” Iggy gave me a smile. We just sat there. Looking at each other and not saying anything. I used to get really uncomfortable when we did this. Now I look forward to it and crave it. I crave him. He’s like a drug. I can’t seem to get enough time alone with him. We talk on the phone for hours at a clip. I hang out at his brother’s house when he’s working on cars. We watch TV with Del at their apartment. We go everywhere together. That’s why I didn’t understand why he dropped off the radar after Christmas Eve with no word at all. “Did you get the message I left with Del?” I almost didn’t want to know. “Yeah, I did. Hey, do you want something to drink? Coke?” he hopped up walked to the vending machine. “I’ll have a Coke.” He turned around and said in a heavy accent, “No Coke, Pepsi.” “OK, Pepsi please.” He sauntered over with the two cans. “I gotta apologize for not getting back in touch. I got a last minute offer to see my family in Willow Grove. We had a great time. I didn’t want to talk there because, well… you know.” That’s the thing. I didn’t know. He could have talked to me from there. He could have given me a clue. I think he didn’t call because of the amount of time we usually spend on the phone. With family around, he couldn’t let them know he’s seeing some guy. His Irish Catholic family would be sending the priest to have the demons cast out of him if he admitted that part of himself to them. I hated that it left me in the dark. I didn’t know if I did or said something wrong. All of the sudden we go from talking several times a week to nothing. Not a word. I was getting my heart broken. I was blaming it all on myself. After all, I’ve let him know everything about my past. Maybe it’s been too much, too deep to handle. Maybe I’m too intense. Maybe I’m something less than what he wants. I was like a splinter under my skin. It was there, I couldn’t get it out and it hurt. “You know,” he said, “with all the time we spend talking, you never told me what happened at Thanksgiving. Did you and Gran go to Philly?” “I didn’t? I thought I did,” maybe I just wanted to block it out. “It was pretty bad,” why was I going into this with him? “It started out OK but mom kept making snide remarks about me. Gran got into a fight with her. They were yelling back and forth. I said some really nasty things to her myself. Finally we left. I felt horrible for Eileen.” “Why?” “Yeah,” I sighed. “Um, before I left, I was waiting for Gran to finish the battle with ma. Eileen and I sat on the wall outside at the front steps. She told me my brothers took mom’s side. She said she told mom she agreed with her too. In actuality, she just told her what ma wanted to hear. She just wanted for her to shut up.” “That’s rough. That’s Thanksgiving from hell on steroids.” “I know. I feel horrible for Eileen. I know she wants to get out of there as soon as she can. She wants to move here with Gran but she has two more years of high school. I know she’s counting the days. She can’t wait to get out of there,” I looked down and my fingers holding a packet of sugar that I was twisting. “Phil, she’s going to be OK. You’re going to be OK too. You’re out of there, right?” “Yeah, that part. At least I’m out of there.” Iggy put his hand on my arm, “You don’t have to feed into all this. You can leave your mom be. You can’t change her. Eileen will be OK too. You just have to put space between you and Philadelphia for your own sanity.” “Iggy, I’m sorry. I didn’t want to get you involved in all this.” “Phil, I’m already there. I’m a big boy. I can walk away if I need to. Just remember that I’m here because I want to be,” he looked into my eyes, “I’m really crazy for you. I don’t want to see this rip you up.” “I appreciate that, boy. I really do. OK, I have to get moving. Walk me to Fourth Street.” “Can’t, I’m getting a ride from my brother in few. Talk with you later. Just hang in there, kay?” “Thanks, Igg,” I looked around and gave him a kiss on the cheek. ‘Hey,” he smiled that crooked grin, “this is a respectable motel.’ “See you soon, Iggy.” He was off to meet his brother and I was off to South 10th Street. I bumped into Julie as I stepped out of the lobby. “Hey! It’s great to see you! Where you been?” Julie smiled and said, “Oh, around.” I could see her face was a little bruised when she turned her head. “Well, OK. I’m on my way home. Want to give me a ride? Or are you heading to class?” She changed. Something happened. She wasn’t the same person. She acted like someone deflated her. Someone took the very essence of who she was. “I’m just picking up some forms but then I gotta go. I’m so, like, you know…sort of glad that, you know that I saw you. It’s been a long while and I’ve been busy. So –,” she let the words just fall out like pieces of crumbs falling off a plate. “I’ve gotta go. See you soon.” She pushed past me and walked into the lobby. I was so upset. I know we haven’t been in touch in a long while; months. But I never thought I would see her so defeated, so depressed. I felt helpless to say or do anything that would cheer her up. I had it in the back of my mind that it was my duty to get her happy and the same old Julie I met when I first got here. I clicked on the Walkman and fast forwarded it to Diana Ross singing “Love Hangover”. Why did Iggy do that? I can’t figure out what’s happening. He’s happy to see me. He’s crazy about me but he just doesn’t contact me for a week? He acts like nothing’s wrong but then he’s off to meet his brother with no word about when we’ll meet up or talk again? I don’t understand what’s going on and it’s driving me crazy. I feel like hell, pure unfettered hell. Chapter - 17 Feeling inspired, and not being able to think of anything else, I took time to work on a collage. I really liked the ones at Gina’s and felt the need to create one for Iggy. It was a sunny fall day. The afternoon light shown through the autumn leaves and lit them up turning them into even more vibrant shades yellows, ambers, and fiery orange. The temperatures overnight were in the 40’s. When it gets that cold, it’s great to snuggle under a comforter and stay in bed where it’s warm. Having a warm cat cuddled up next to you helps as well. I’m taking time to work on Iggy’s collage and then read over the driver’s exam stuff. I’m really scared about taking the test. But the amount of freedom will be so exhilarating. Just being about to go where I want, when I want. I know Gran is going to be asking me to shop for her or drive her from place to place but I can handle that. The sun is warm and the room as heating up. I propped up the old wood casement window with a stick used to mix paint. The air smells so clean, fresh and cool. I look out over the back yard and I see Muzzy and Lovey are already scoping out their yard, their territory. I am going to hop downstairs, get some breakfast and then work on the collage. I found Gran sweeping the back patio. She had the kitchen door open and the breeze was nice. I could hear the leaves rustling sounding dryer. Some of them flutter to the ground creating more work. I took the cat’s water dish back to the faucet and set it down in its usual spot outside the kitchen door. “Morning,” Gran said. “Morning Gran.” Gran stopped sweeping, “Can you fold the laundry for me and take it upstairs. I’ve asked you a few times this week but it’s still down there.” “Oh yeah, I keep forgetting.” “Phil, when it comes to things I ask you to do around here, you seem to forget a lot.” “Gran, I said I’ll do it. It’s no problem. I’ll go do it now.” Gran stopped me, “Look, don’t do it because I’m pestering you. Do it because it’s part of your responsibility to help out. You know, I’m not asking you to pay rent and you pretty much come and go as you please. So, I’m asking you nicely to help with things around the house.” “OK, I’ll get it done,” I was really annoyed. “You know, you’re going to learn this someday. Someday I won’t be here and you’ll be on your own. No one will do this for you. You’re going to have to become more responsible and start doing things for yourself. You’re going to turn eighteen soon. So the time you get out there in your own apartment isn’t all that far away. I’m just saying this because you need to hear it. It’s not something anyone, including your mother, has every held you accountable for. I’m worrying that you’ll turn out just like her. “You know, I had such big hopes for her. She was so brilliant. . She was very pretty back when she lived here. She even won the Miss Reading pageant and went onto the Miss Pennsylvania pageant and lost. If it didn’t come easy to her, she became angry at herself for failing and then never tried again. Then it’s on to another project and another. “It’s like with you kids. She gave you all life and after the first parts of mothering were over, when you guys were little and cute, she was done. By that time, her drinking really took off.” I hated her rehashing all this. I lived through it, the entire nightmare of it. I thought back and couldn’t believe she was ever attractive, that she was every in New York having modeling shots taken. Never understood how she could go from hanging out with Mickey Rooney and Jonathan Winters to living this hard life tied to pills and alcohol. Gran thought back, “You know, I think the worst I ever saw her was after I had you guys up here for Easter and I drove you back to your place in Roslyn. I think you were about eight; remember that? “Yes, I’d rather not go over it so-“ Gran just kept on with the story. It was always hell to hear it again. “Remember? We walked in through the kitchen. There were bloody handprints on the wall and a trail of blood from the kitchen through to the living room where she was asleep on the sofa. That pillow was just soaked in blood. “If we didn’t call the ambulance, she would have died in a few hours. How she got so drunk, fell down the basement stairs and then found her way up to the sofa is beyond me,” she said shaking her head. The whole memory was so fresh in my mind. I could not ever forget it. The most horrific part was the smell of blood. No one should have to smell a pool of their mother’s own blood. No eight-year-old child should ever have to live through that. However, through all of it, I lost the ability to be shocked. I lost the ability to feel. If I felt and reacted to every degrading thing she would say to me, every embarrassment I felt going to school in dirty clothes or ask her why there was no food in the house, I would go crazy. I really think my ability to process the reality of it was too much to deal with. At least Gran took us up to her house every holiday. She knew what we were living in. She would cry on every trip back to Philly. I remember her telling us, “Tell your teachers, tell the priests, tell anyone that will listen to you. It’s not right what she does to you kids. It’s not right.” I turned away from Gran and her broom and headed downstairs to the laundry. I took the clothes out of the dryer and folded one pair of jeans before breaking down and crying. Crying so hard I couldn’t see, the tears came so fast. Chapter 18 – February 1983 School was doing well. I had my license not just the ‘Cinderella” one. I was now ferrying Gran around the city. With her driving, that was a good for pretty much everyone in Reading. I was still having a hard time parallel parking the Plymouth. Gran had that skill down pat. A few times I just let her take the wheel and park the monster while I brought the groceries in the house. Now that I had the freedom of a car, I found myself getting over to Sharon or Gina’s place on a regular basis. I’d see Sharon because she was really fun, her style made me feel cooler just by being with her. I loved hanging out with Gina because she was outrageous, fun. Beyond all that, she was in touch with Iggy. She could give me updates on what she heard he was doing. He didn’t call me anymore. We didn’t go out and do stuff anymore. I just got cut off. I hated it but I did what I always did. I hardened myself and pretended it didn’t matter. I was used to that growing up. I would just wall myself off from my emotions and act like what hurt the most, mattered the least. I still wanted to see him. I still had that addiction to him. I really felt less than because I gave myself to him on a deep level and now I feel like a fool. I feel like an idiot for letter anyone in. I felt angry at myself for breaking my own rules. Don’t let anyone become emotionally close. Don’t let anyone effect you. Don’t let anyone control you like that again. It hurts too much. Besides, he’s not worth it…I think. You know what? Fuck him! I didn’t even get to bed with him. I should have taken that as a sign. I probably degust him on some level but he won’t tell me. What a bastard. What was he doing? Just fucking with my head, that’s all. Never ever let anyone else in, ever. However, there was Sharon. She was out to her aunt. I didn’t ever get the story about her parents. She never mentioned them, so I bet there was a story there. Were they not on speaking terms with her because she was a lesbian? I never found that out. Sharon was into tech stuff, computers especially. She had a PC and had an idea how to program it to do all sorts of stuff. I was amazed. She also had a decent, stable relationship with Kim. I loved seeing them together because it showed me there were functional relationships somewhere. Maybe there weren’t many sane relationships but they were out there. I was happy to see it was a gay couple; they were OK with themselves and didn’t care what others thought of them. At times I felt like Sharon’s pet. I don’t know why I got that impression. She really liked me a lot. “I have to ask you something,” I had to get it out of myself. “What’s up?” “Well, you know Iggy? I mean, I thought there was this thing going on, ya know? Like we were boyfriends and he was really into me. I was so hurt that he just stopped the friendship/relationship or whatever the hell we actually were doing.” “Sorry to hear about that. If it’s any consolation, he seems to do this sort of thing a lot,” I could tell she was not just telling me what I wanted to hear. Sharon was very frank and didn’t mind telling me things I needed to hear but didn’t necessarily want to. “He’s got issues. I can imagine it must be rough. He’s your first? You were a virgin till him, right?” “Hell no, I’m still one of those. We made out but that was it. Made out a few times and that’s what made me think there was more. We would talk for hours, spend all this time together and then he just disappears,” I sat on the floor of her room and stared at the Annie Lennox poster on her wall. I didn’t want to admit what just came out of my mouth. Now that I did, it was real. We were over. There was nothing left. She smiled, “That sucks. I’ve had that happen in some of my relationships before Kim. It really hurts, I get that. Just know it’s not you. I’ve known Iggy since fifth grade. Let’s just say he’s got some really heavy stuff he’s dealt with and I don’t think he knows how to deal with being …you know, being with a guy. I love him like a brother but he can be a real head case.” “Really? I wonder if it’s something where I scared him off,” I asked her. At the same time, I didn’t know she was that close to him. What if I said something that she found offensive? Here I am talking crap about her close friend. Now that I know she’s close to him, I may get more information about why he did what he did. She grinned, “Don’t worry about it. You have your life and he has his. It’s not that deep. Just leave him be who he’s supposed to be and you keep working towards getting your diploma. That’s what’s really important, not just being in a relationship with some guy.” But that’s the thing, he’s not just ‘some guy’. He’s my guy. I wish I could be there for him. Wish I could be in his arms in the front seat of his Pontiac looking over the city like we used to. “Oh, I forgot!” she handed me her latest buy, “The Eurythmics”! You’ve got to hear this. My favorite track, but they’re all good. I’ve been listening to it non-stop for the past week.” “I like the artwork. Who are they?” She walked over to the turntable, “Here, listen to this. You’ll probably relate.” The needle hit the record as it started “Love is a Stranger”. “I can relate. I can so relate,” I nodded. She laughed. “Get up, let’s dance.” We did. It felt great. Screw the past. This is 1983 and the whole world is ahead of me. Chapter 19 – May 1983 Gran asked, “I know your personal life is your own business but where’s Iggy? What happened to him?” “I don’t know,” I said sadly. “He just dropped out of my life.” “I know. You’ve been moping around for the past few weeks. I also noticed you’ve been coming home smelling of alcohol. Phil, this is starting worry me. I can’t watch another person I love just –“ “Gran, I get it. I get it. I’m actually over him. I decided to go with my plan of graduating college. I think I need to focus on something other than him.” “Good! I’m glad to hear you say that because you’re correct. No one person is worth losing yourself over. If they can’t be there for you when you just start out, just imagine how much worse things would be if you were together for years and he pulled something like this. You don’t need it, Phil. You’re better than that. I hope you understand what I’m telling you.” I told her I did but actually only half believed it. Sharon invited me to Iggy’s birthday party. I didn’t know if it was the correct idea. I made him a paper sculpture and have hoped he’ll see how much time I spent on it. That will show him how much he means to me. Aside from getting my heart broken, I had other things to keep me busy. School was going great. I was doing well in most of my classes except math. It makes no sense to me. “Solve for ‘X’”, I mean…what the hell does that even mean? I’ve decided to go into social work. I don’t need to know any of that. Janice started taking some time off to be at her kid’s events. She trusted me enough to handle the office by myself and lock up. I felt honored she let me do that. She’s was stickler for everything going perfectly. She expected that of herself and wouldn’t trust me to close the office if she didn’t think I could handle it. At home, Granpop was starting fights here and there. Just petty stuff but we hate each other under all that. I don’t know why or how it got like this. I think after us kids got past the cute stage, he began to resent us for some reason. I don’t know the exact thing but all I know is he’s been pretty hateful to all of us since about the age of six. I found out Iggy left me a message around Christmas which Granpop never gave to me. Gran heard him take the message and thought he wrote it down. He deliberately didn’t give the message or the ones from Sharon or Gina. I didn’t trust him as far as I could throw him. He got me in the kitchen one day and started in on me. He told me I should get out and live on my own. I’m a drain on his wife and on him. No one really wanted me around. When I told this to Gran, she flipped out on him. Not the first time I’ve heard them fighting downstairs before I’d go to sleep. I never understood those two. All I know is she stayed with him for years. First it was for the kids. Then she stayed with him because she didn’t have any other options. Besides, she was getting active in her union, the ILGWU. She was active in the union and active in local politics as well. She always was in some blurb in newspaper over some meeting she was chairing or some activity the union was having. I was proud of her. I was also so proud of her when she told me she had to drop out of school around the early 1930’s to help out of her parents’ farm. She missed graduating. However, a year before I was born, she went to night school and got her high school diploma. She always told me how important school was and how much of a world it opens you up to. I always looked up to her; she may have been through a rough life but kept on going anyway. Chapter 21 – Iggy’s Birthday Party Sharon called me and asked me to come over to prep the house for Iggy’s birthday party. I packed the artwork I made from him in a bag and would wrap it at Sharon’s. She told me she had plenty of paper. I was so excited. It’s the first time I’ve seen him in months. I wasn’t sure to expect. Maybe not the romantic relationship I was broken up over but at least to stay friends. “Hey boy!” Sharon opened the door and handed me a box with paper tissue. It was the perfect size for Iggy’s gift. I made an eight by 12 piece of paper sculpture done in white mat board. The subject had a grand piano in an art deco and forced perspective view. The piano sat next to a large set of French doors leading out to a landscape. All the colors were whites, black accent for the keys and tones of grey. It was beautiful, at least I thought so. It took me weeks to finish in between school, work and helping Gran with the housework. I couldn’t wait for him to see it. Kim came downstairs with a small stack of cassettes mix tapes. Most all of the music was dance tunes with a few slow songs thrown in. “Hi Phil! What’s up? How you doin’?” she said as she flipped a cassette into the sound system’s tape deck. “Oh, you know. Just work and school. How’s things in the accounting department? As exciting as the job sounds?” Km had to be sarcastic, “Well, it’s the only thing I life for. Not for anything else. Not even for ‘ol Sharon here. Did you know that, Sharon? My job is more important that you, than my car, than life…itself!” she poked Sharon in the chest. “Ya know, I only keep you for the money, right?” Sharon grinned at her. They gave each other a kiss and continued setting up. I asked what I could do. Sharon gave me some balloons. “Here, I KNOW you know how to blow…these up.” Within an hour, everything was set up. Decorations hung, the food was prepped and ready on the buffet. Spiked drinks were already waiting to get the crowd loaded. The doorbell rang and Del came in with a handful of people I’d never seen. “Hey! How’s everybody doing? The party just arrived!” “Del! How are you? How have you been?” I gave her a hug, “Who’s your friends?” I was so happy to see her. Since I stopped hanging out at the Scarab and got caught up in my day to day routine, I hadn’t seen her in months. She came over to me, “Hey!! Going good, going good. Here’s some people to meet. This is Kimbra, Kimbra this is Phil –(I already knew Kimbra was Del’s latest love. She was from someplace in California. How and why the poor woman ended up in Reading, I have no clue. What’s keeping her from running out of Berks County screaming “These people are crazy!” was the first thing I had when Del told me about her a few weeks ago. California was always I place I associated with television and movies. How could someone from a place of sun, palm trees and opportunity end up in such a dump as Reading? Del said she’s here clearing up her aunt’s estate and then moving back to some town outside Sacramento. Del has been batting around the idea of following her. I told her to watch out. I know the joke about what a lesbian brings on a second date is a U-Haul but I don’t want to see Del test that theory in real life. I don’t want her to get hurt if it doesn’t work out. Back to the introductions –“Lexy, Phil, Phil Lexy, Paul, I think you’ve met, right?” Paul rolled his eyes in a campy version of disgust, “Now Del, how many times have I told you? All gay men don’t know each other. We all look alike but other than that -” Paul said laughing. I chimed in, “They do if they go to the Scarab.” I asked Paul “Is that were I met you? I don’t think we’ve ever seen each other. I’m Phil, nice to meet you.” Paul smiled, tipped his baseball cap. “Pleasure is mine.” He turned and helped Kim with the music. I thought to myself, he’s cute. I wonder who he’s seeing. I let the thought go out of my head since I was her to see Iggy more than anything else. There was a knock at the door and in came Gina with Ruth and some of Gina’s groupies. Most of them I only met a few times. There was some girl, Crystal, along with Terry Boyer, Sonya Salcedo, Joe Paszternak and some girl he’d been seeing but who I never met. I really didn’t care to meet her since I barely knew Joe. He was a scary skinhead I really didn’t want to get too involved with. As for Sonya, I saw her before at the record store. I think she managed it or owned it. I know she wore some outrageous vintage clothing and tonight was no exception. Her outfit for tonight looked like a 1940’s black patterned cocktail dress with palm leaf motive through the design. The outfit came complete with three think black belts loosely on her waist, a black beret, black lace gloves and white patented leather pumps. I remember she had a collection of stuffed dogs she kept behind the counter of the store. She would talk to them in a cartoonish voice and imagine they were talking back to her. Next to Sonya was Terry who was leaving Reading in a few weeks. She was accepted at Temple University on a full basketball scholarship. I think that was one thing I remember about her most. She was six feet three and was one of the gentlest of Sharon’s friends. She was just a lovely person. I was envious she was going to college and getting out of Reading but I couldn’t imagine living on Temple’s campus and not getting mugged. It was a really rough area of North Philly. Pass. There was another round of greetings to some guys up from Philly. Guys I knew would keep things raucous and out of hand. They all looked like preppy college dudes. They sure acted like frat guys. Two of the football players stepped out for a few minutes. When they came back they brought the keg. People cheered as Dell and Paul held up bags of red plastic cups. The other guys started chanting “BEER PONG! BEER PONG!” Ruth shouted over them, “OK OK, Hold up everyone! Bessie is out of the house, but I’m here as a guest AND a mom. So, let’s have a good time without the cops telling us to shut it down, got it?” We all answered her in unison like school kids, “Yes, Miss Papadakis.” The music cranked up. Kim started and extended remix of “In The Name of Love” by the Thompson Twins. She put on a pair of Ray Ban sunglasses as she rifled through her albums. Sharon handed her a beer. Everyone had a beer in their hand and the living room was getting smoky. Sharon had a few chairs and tables in the back yard with colored lights hanging’ overhead. Some people had headed out for a smoke of other things beyond cigarettes. Already the party was getting more and more packed as other people kept filing in. Some headed for the kitchen and the back yard, others caught up with their friends in the living room. In the door walked the party boy. Iggy looked great. He had on a leopard skin suit jacket with black Satan lapels and a pair of shoes to match. I was ready to jump through my skin. I knew I was not supposed to get this crazy about seeing him but the strong attraction was still there. “Hey guys, what the hell is this?” People shouted over the music, “Iggy!” and “Happy Birthday Cap’n Crunch!” I was at the far side of the room and didn’t want to talk with him. I knew it would be awkward and a disappointment. Now I don’t know why was there. “So, how do you know Iggy?” Paul asked as he stood next to me. “Oh, just around. You know Gina, right?” He smiled, “Yeah, practically everyone knows her.” I said, “Well, I know him through her.” Paul pointed to the yard in the back, “Hey, wanna step out of the noise for a bit? The smoke is getting to me. Paul was dressed sharp. He had on a white suit jacket with the sleeves rolled up, a pink IZOD shirt, jeans a white pair of Capezios. I wish I looked that good wearing those clothes but it wasn’t my style and I’d never fit into the size he wore. He had strawberry blonde hair that was hair sprayed into a locked position that probably needed special chemicals to get it back to its natural state. I offered him a cigarette. He said he didn’t smoke. I knew Gran would appreciate that. We got into small talk. He said he worked for Heister Ford out on Route 422 selling cars. I thought he could pass as a salesperson. The only difference is he wasn’t pushy and obnoxious. The type of thing people would associate with car salesmen. He told me his boyfriend was sick and not able to make the party. “How long have you been together?” I asked. “Well, we met in high school but didn’t date then. We’ve been together four years” He went on with other details about how they came out to their parents, what it’s like to be in the closet at work and how to keep out of some of the local drama. Paul told me his partner, David, was a grade school teacher. He taught fifth grade and loved his job. I kept thinking in the back of my mind how rough it must be to have a job where you can get fired as soon as the boss finds out you’re gay. I hope he doesn’t lose his job over something that stupid. Paul told me they have a house on Fifth Street near Pine. It was a huge old townhouse that needed a lot of restoration but they were having fun putting it back together as it would have looked in the 1880s. They had problems with the walls since there was gas pipes embedded throughout for the old gas lights. He looked like he was fit enough to do the work by himself. If Dave was built the same way, they’d have the place done in no time. Paul showed me a photo of Dave and him last Christmas. Dave was short and geeky with round glasses and a nice smile. They looked incredibly happy. I wonder if it’s true. Can there be something like a normal, boring relationship with two men living in Reading? “So, what do you do?” he asked. “Oh, I’m in school for pre-psych and work in the admissions department,” I said all the while wondering just how boring that sounded. “Hey, that’s great,” he said as he sipped his beer, “what do you plan on doing when you graduate?” I had no clue. I never thought of it. I’m just sorting doing school and working but really haven’t thought out a time-line or a decisive plan for life after school. I told him about going into social work but in reality, I had no clue if that’s what I wanted to do or not. That really bothered me. It’s great to get the basic courses out of the way but as I go along, I need to pin point what exactly I was really in school for and what did I really want to do. No one really ever asked and I never asked myself. We heard someone scream as a crowd of people starting laughing and screaming “OHHHH!” – Someone cranked up INXS “The One Thing”. Paul looked at me, “Hey let’s check out what they’re doing.” A few girls came out to the patio. They were all totally shitfaced. We made our way back to the party. Sharon came up to me, “Hey baby. We’re going to bring out the cake so hang out for a bit.” Paul and I waited while the candles were lit, cake brought out. Then it was time for the gifts. Sharon handed him her gift first. He opened it, it was an album wrapped in some really cool geometric design wrapping paper. “Oh wow! The Birthday Party! I love them. That’s so cool! I love it, Sharon. Thank you so much. Come here and give Cap’n a kiss.” She said, “I know you like the group and what better time to give it to you than on your birthday!” I knew what I gave him wouldn’t be anything as cool as that. I wanted to take the present home and just disappear out of existence. She handed him all the other presents and mine was the last. It was excruciating. He said, “OK, so last but not least.” He hurriedly opened the paper and was awed. I didn’t know if that was good or bad. Maybe it was such a bad present that he didn’t want to say it in a room full of people. “Wow, I don’t know what to say. Phil, you’re amazing. Thank you so much.” He put his present on a table and went to get a beer. I had to get away for a minute. None of this made sense. Why did I show up? I know Sharon had been hounding me about being there but that’s no reason to take her up on it. I went to use the bathroom but Del was already there waiting her turn. Del said, “Hey baby. You don’t look so good. It’s a party! What could be sad about being at a party?” She knew the exact reason why I felt like hell. “Baby, don’t let him bother you like that. I mean, I know the party is for him but there’s so many cool people here. You already seem to be hitting it off with Paul.” I thought about it, “You’re right. If nothing else, I met a cool guy. Have you ever been to his place? He said Dave and him are fixing it up.” Del said, “Oh really? No, I’ve never been there. I kind of know Paul but not enough to hang out with. He’s a cool guy. I hear those two are perfectionists so I’m sure no one will see that place till it’s on point.” She thought a minute, “You know, I think they just adopted two dogs from what I heard at the Scarab. You can’t go wrong with a dog person.” I had no idea about that but it sounded ideal. Imagine, a house, two dogs, stable jobs and a loving relationship. Maybe I could actually have a future with an actual stable guy. I decided it was time to go. I didn’t want to hang out and be one of the last people at the party. I also didn’t want to chance getting into an awkward conversation with Iggy. I wanted to say goodbye to Paul first. He was such a nice guy and I didn’t want to think I just left without saying anything. I asked one of the frat boys where Paul was. He had no clue. I found Sonya and asked her where Paul was? She pointed to the yard. I stepped into the patio but as I did, I saw Iggy kissing Crystal. My heart stopped. I was embarrassed and wanted to get out of there as soon as possible. I bumped into Paul when I turned around and spilled some of my beer on his shoes. I started apologizing all over the place. He assured me it was no big deal which I’m sure he felt compelled to say. He was being very polite even though he was probably thinking of cursing me out. Nice people say the polite thing and then curse about it with their friends in private. I gave him a quick hug and got out of there. Chapter 21 – July 1983 Gina and Iggy picked me up at 9 pm. I was surprised to see him there. Where was Crystal? He acted as though he wasn’t dodging my calls for months. My heart was breaking more than ever seeing him act as though I was nothing to him. He was acting as though we were complete strangers. Well, that’s OK. I’m not allowing that to happen again. No one is getting to my emotions and feelings anymore. I’m done with that. That includes him. I can’t believe this bastard is showing up and there’s no excuse or clue he’s sorry. Well, fuck him. Fuck everything. We drove over to George’s AM PM convenience store/gas station. He worked the overnight shift. After Gina asked what we could steal, he said “Um, pretty much anything. The owner has no cameras.” Gina’s eyes went wide. She grabbed a chocolate bar and started eating like the Cookie Monster. We all laughed and then followed her lead. Iggy, Ronny, Craig and Lisa went crazy at the thought of unfettered destruction and theft. Lisa started running up and down the aisles grabbing as many snacks as she could carry. Lisa’s coat was stuffed with cookies, gum and beef jerky. Iggy said “Hey, watch this!” He took a large back of tortilla chips and emptied the bag on the floor. He got on the floor and started rolling around as the crumbs covered him. Gina and I were laughing so hard, tears were coming out of our eyes. A customer walked in and asked for directions to Shillington. Gina started singing the tune “Do you know the way to San Jose” swapping out Shillington for San Jose. I doubled over and had to catch my breath. I then stole some porno from behind the counter along with a few lighters and cigarettes. The customer paid for her gas and left the store clearly annoyed at being mocked. We didn’t want to take a chance of getting caught. . She seemed very upset. I know she would call the Police in a heartbeat. We decided to get out of there, fast. Before we did, I stole a six-pack of beer. As we got to Iggy’s car, I noticed an abounded car in the back of the parking lot. I said, “Iggy, hold up a sec.” I took a brick and smashed it through the windshield. I was so angry inside. Nothing was putting out the fire. I wanted to break and destroy. I didn’t feel I could stop myself. As the brick turned the windshield into a million diamonds, we laughed and hurried into Iggy’s Pontiac. We flew out of there as fast as that car would take us, tires squealed and the huge engine roared. We drove about three blocks down the street and I told Iggy to stop the car. “OK, this is my stop. See you guys later.” It was blocks from the house. Gina said, “Where are you going? You live on 10th. You’re a mile from there. Get back in the car.” I waved her off and kept walking. I dodged them by darting down an alley as they sped off. I almost tripped on a homeless woman. “Hey, watch the fuck out!” she yelled. “Yeah? Fuck you, how about that, eh? Fuck you bitch.” I took a chunk of cement from a boarded up factory and smashed a window. Then I picked up another and smashed a window. I screamed at the top of my lungs. I couldn’t pick up bricks fast enough. Someone in the back screamed, “Hey! Hey, stop! Just stop, OK?” It was the homeless woman. I was in mid throw, turned to look at her and decided to do what I was told. “Come ‘ere. What’s your name, Hun?” she said in a civil tone. “Um, I’m Phil. Sorry about all that. I didn’t mean to flip out or scare you.” She looked me over, “Well, OK but why are you here? What are you doing screaming at people and throwing rocks, eh? You know, you’re going to get arrested doing that shit. Trust me, you’ll get arrested.” She put out her hand which was filthy and gray, “Carol here. And you’re –“ “Phil. You live around here?” I shook her hand and quickly wiped it on my jeans. She looked at me like I was crazy. “Um yeah, I’m in the mansion on the corner.” “OK Carol. I get it. I got it. What are you doing on the streets? How long you been out here?” “Oh, I’ve been out here for a few years, off and on,” she stretched and yawned, “There’s no greater freedom than being your own boss. Nothing better than not having to pay rent or a mortgage, there’s nothing like it. No, nothing. Nothing at all like it; you’re your own boss.” She looked like she almost believed what she was selling. “OK, well, it’s been real,” I tried to beat a hasty retreat. Carol piped up, “Hey there um, uh…Phil. Yeah, that’s it, Phil. You got some money?” I started to get nervous. “Oh, no. I don’t have any cash on me,” a total lie. “I didn’t think so,” she looked me up and down. She studied me like a detective, “One thing I know you DO have are condoms and cigarettes. I smirked at her, “How do you know I have smokes?” She snapped back, “Because I smell it on your clothes, dumbass. C’mon, hand me one.” I took one out and handed it to her and lit up one for myself. She sat on the factory steps. “Come, keep me company. It’s lonely out here. Come,” she patted the space next to her. “It’s nice out tonight. I usually don’t get this lucky. Three days with no rain,” she said looking at the sky. I asked her about her life, the one before the streets. She told me she was a mother of four kids but had some mental issues that kept her from getting her kids back. The stuff the doctors put her on just made her shuffle around and drool. I felt for her. She reminded me of Ma. I wonder if this is where Ma’s heading. Carol and I talked for about a half hour. She explained how I looked like one of her sons. She was getting upset and tears were running down her face. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry Keith. I didn’t want to do it, but I had to,” she said looking at me for forgiveness. I didn’t know what to do. I played along. “Um…It’s OK Ma. There are no problems. We’re good, OK. I understand.” Her eyes grew wide with surprise, “Fuck! You’re not my kid, are you? What the hell do you want? I’m not your whore, got it?” I got up and headed down the street; she was starting to lose it. I was about four houses away when I heard her sound contrite, “Phil! Phil get back here. I’m sorry, OK? I’m sorry. You’re not my kid. I get it, I get it, OK. Just come back for a sec.” I stepped up to her. She looked pitiful, “Hey, I know you said you don’t have any cash but if you have a quarter or a dime, that would be a help, ya know? That could really help me out. Can you check if you have one on you?” I pulled out a five dollar bill and handed it over. “Here Carol. Get yourself something to eat, OK?” “Thanks Keith. You’re a good kid,” and with that, she was off to who knows where. I found a phone booth outside a corner store. The phone rang a few times, “Hello?” Gran said. “Hey Gran, it’s me. I’m coming home.” Chapter 22 –August 1983 I was glad to be at Gina’s since she thought I was cool enough to join her and some of her friends at slam dance in Philly. She asked if I could drive them. I agreed, what a cool time! There were bands coming from all over, even New York City. After a long drive down, we parked near an abandoned school. The school hallways were dark. There didn’t seem to be electric in the building at all. There were candles lighting the way to a large auditorium where a speed punk band was playing. There was electricity but it was probably from a generator. Stage lights were on and enough electricity to run the instruments but other than that, the whole building was empty. The punks at this place were hardcore. One of the women taking tickets at the front door was almost shaved bald and the hair that was left was colored in perfect circle of varying color. She looked like her head was actually an Easter egg. Her mascara looked thick and smeared under one eye. The front of her blouse was undone and there were two squares of black electrical tape covering each nipple. “Ticket,” she said in a dull, monotone voice. We handed her the tickets and off we went into a world most people in Reading would never experience. I was able to get out my aggression. When we started dancing and “protecting our turf”, I found Gina and knocked into her, slamming her to the floor. Other bigger guys did the same with me. The whole scene was one of controlled violence and inane movements. I felt the anger in the music and the dissection of modern romance; it was liberating. The music expressed what I’d seen in my own life. Life was a sick joke. Screw everything, just dance, sneer, become destructive and drink your ass off. As we drove home, the three in the back were asleep; I noticed a problem with the accelerator pedal. The thing was stuck to the floor even with my foot off it. The Plymouth engine sprinted the car, propelling it down the highway act an insane pace. Gina started screaming, “What the fuck is happening!” “I don’t know! The pedal is stuck, won’t come up. It’s stuck to the floor!” She thought quickly, “I’ll hold the wheel and steer, you reach down and pull the pedal off the floor.” I reached down and pulled the thing free of the floor. The car started slowing down. I pulled the car off the side of the road near a gas station. I walked over and had to call Gran. She was just about asleep when I called her. “Gran, there’s something wrong with the car,” I explained the whole thing. She drove to meet us. Thank God we were only twenty miles outside the city. When we got in, I told Gran I was going to stay at Gina’s. We had plans to get drunk at one of her friends place. The whole night was a fuckin’ mess. After listening to Bauhaus for hours, I wanted to end it all. I think part of that was actually true, the other part because the music was so depressing. Gina was just lying there, not doing much of anything. A few of her friends were watching a re-run of “Cheers”. I drifted off. Around six in the morning, I got up, left and walked the fifteen blocks back home. Gran was not happy to see me. That next morning, I couldn’t help thinking about it and had to take several showers to get it all out of me. Finally, I got ready to go to work but then I thought screw it. I’m taking the day off. I came downstairs at the same time I’m usually out the door for work. Gran was coming up from the basement with laundry. “Hey, why are you here? I thought you have to at work?” “I do, but I’m taking the day off.” “What?” she couldn’t believe my answer. “What about your job? You think you can just not show up because it suits you? You’re going to end up losing it. We depend on your making your own money. This is so irresponsible, I can’t believe it.” I exploded, “GRAN ENOUGH! I’m just going to take the day off. It’s not any big deal.” “Big deal? You’re going to just lie around here? No sir, that’s not how this works. You think I just ‘take the day off’ anytime I feel like it? Now get upstairs, get dressed. You’re going to work.” I said, “Screw this and screw YOU! I’m not going.” “WHAT? What did you just tell me?” She was furious but I also know I hurt her feelings. I’ve never blown up like that. This wasn’t like me. But I was sick of being a good boy. I need to break some rules and just have fun. Why can’t she see that? What’s the big deal? She’s been riding me for the past two weeks about getting chores done. If I say I’m going to put the laundry away but forget, is that a crime?” I tried to calm things down, “Look, I don’t what this to get out of hand –“ “You’ve already done that. I can’t believe you’d be so mean and hateful as to tell me something like that after all I’ve done for you. You’re an ingrate. You’re ungrateful. I’ve put you up in this house, fed you, got you a job.” I cut her off, “Hey, I’M the one that got the job. I’m the one that is making my way around here. You don’t give me any credit for that, do you?” “Phil, what in the hell are you talking about? I give you plenty of credit where credit is due. You don’t understand how things work in the real world. Once you get out on your own, you’ll soon see. It’s not easy juggling a job, keeping up with your own chores and all the things that come from being a responsible adult. You’ve GOT to grow up. I can’t make you do that and it’s frustrating. You’re just coasting along –“ “Where did you come up with that? I’m NOT coasting. I think things are going pretty well for me.” I was nervous and trying to stand on facts I knew were only partially true. I wasn’t going to let her win the argument. It was more important for me to win than to give in. If I give in, she’ll have me do anything she asks. I’ll just be here to say ‘yes ma’am’ to everything and be her slave. She’s not treating me as an adult, not at all. “Phil, think about it. Don’t you think your mom would be saying the same things to you right now? We both know she wouldn’t. Hell, she didn’t care where you went or what you did. But now you do. You need to answer to someone other than yourself. It’s a part of life. Real grown-ups sure as hell don’t act like you –“ “I’m out,” I grabbed my jacket and cigarettes and flew out the front door in a rage. I wanted to stay out of the house for as long as possible. I’ll come back when she’s calmed down. I’ll find some way to smooth things over. I just need to clear my head. I know Iggy was at work all day between the factory and the group home. I bet Julie’s home. She doesn’t have class. I’ll swing by and see if we can get into some sort of trouble. I need to calm down. I deserve to have a little fun after that fiasco. Why is she being so unreasonable? I don’t get it at all. I think I’m doing pretty damn good considering the circumstances of how I got here. Well, I’ll let her cool down and maybe we can hash this out later. Now to Julie’s place. I hope she’s home. I knocked on the door but then hear Julie calling me from the back yard, “Hey you, come on back!” There she was helping Kenny with moving patio furniture. This was the first time I met him. Julie said, “Kenny, this is Phil. Phil, this is my husband Kenny. In my eyes, he looked like a macho gay pin-up model. The sleeves ripped off a plaid shirt, the filthy tee shirt underneath that. I don’t know if he knew it, but this guy would have no problem picking up dudes at any cruising spot. “Nice to meet you, Phil,” he said gruffly. He was built, very muscular with a mustache and sandy brown hair feathered back into a mullet. He has on tight jeans with holes in the knees and a pair of industrial work boots. “I heard you hang out with Julie here.” “Well, we went to typing class together. Since then, I see her around CCBC. That’s about all,” I thought, please don’t kill me! I’d rather fool around with you than Julie, any day. “OK, so can you give me a hand with some stuff on the truck?” “Sure, be glad to,” I wasn’t ‘glad’ to. I knew he wanted to punch my lights out from the first time he saw me smoking with Julie. I’m sure he beats her. That’s the only thing that’s keeping me from wanting to be best buddies with this animal. I really didn’t want to meet him; especially after I saw Julie at CCBC with her face showing signs of his anger. “Hey,” he said in a low voice, “stay away from my wife, got it?” “Sure. You know I’m gay, right? I like Julie as a friend but other than that, we’re not romantically involved at all,” please don’t kill me! “I don’t care if you’re gay or not, just keep your hands off her,” he was getting angry. I’ve only been around him for a few minutes and I’m already ready to bolt out of there. I’m so glad she never introduced me to him before. He’s certainly was not the sharpest crayon in the box if he can’t figure out that I’m into guys (another reason he’d be useful at a cruising location). There’s no way in hell I would be interested in his wife. I sure wouldn’t mind watching him come out of the shower but that’s beyond the point. Julie asked me, “Wanna go with me to Redner’s? I have to pick up a few things for the party I’m having for Kenny.” “Sure,” anything to get away from that angry ball of steroids. In the car I noticed we weren’t going to Redner’s at all. She said, “Let’s go shopping in Wyomissing!” “Why-o-Why-o-missing? Why there?” I asked “We can check out the outlets. There’s a coach outlet with like the cutest bag. I’ve been eyeing it for weeks. I’ve dropped hints for Kenny but he didn’t seem to pick up on it.” I thought, that’s not the only thing he doesn’t pick up on. She was excited, “We can see what they have; if it’s there, it’s mine! You like shopping for purses and stuff, right? “Well, I haven’t bought one in a while. They’re just not me. I’m a clutch sort of guy, if you wanna know the truth.” Julie thought this was hilarious, “Oh my god! Like, you are sooo funny! My god, like seriously, how did you learn to be so quick on your wits, huh?” She was totally serious. “Well, you have to be. Just for the record, I don’t like purses, or clutches or women’s clothes. I will tell you if what you’re wearing look like hell, but other than that.” Chapter 23 – Christmas Two weeks before Christmas, Granpop was taken to the hospital with a possible stroke. He needed to stay at a nursing home for a few weeks to get some of his functions back. For me, I was just happy to have his evil energy out of the house. I know Gran was too. No matter how happy a situation was, he was there to suck the life out of it. He always delighted in others misery. Now it seems some of that misery came back to haunt him with a vengeance. With him out of the house, there was peace and freedom. It was like a huge breath of fresh air. I know Gran felt it too. I could see it in her mood. I hoped he’s stay in the hospital forever. It was a week before Christmas. I woke up hearing “thump…thump…thump” coming from downstairs. My mind raced with different scenarios. Was Gran in trouble? Was the place getting robbed? I couldn’t imagine why anyone would rob the place but who knows? I walked downstairs and found Gran struggling with a Christmas tree that was now falling out of a beat-up cardboard box. The tree was halfway in the box, the part Gran was still holding too. I rushed over to the tree before it fell out of the box and slid down the basement stairs. We laid it out in the middle of the living room. It was never a fancy, large tree but that thing had a lot of great memories associated with it. Since we were little, Gran had us over for the holiday and the house looked amazing. The tree was always festooned with lights and ornaments from another time. Usually most were glass but others were fabric, or woven straw. I recognized some were ones us kids made for her. She kept them all over the years and always made an appearance prominently in the front of the tree, not the back where the cheap ornaments were. We reminisced over different Christmases and how some were really memorable like the one in 1966. That year a nor’easter pummeled the area with snow the night of Christmas Eve. It was a major blizzard that shut down a good portion of the eastern seaboard. New York’s La Guardia was closed. Philadelphia traffic came to a halt. Streets were littered with cars stuck in drifts making traffic completely impassible. I was only two but I still remember the joy of Christmas mixed with the anxiety of my parents trying to decide whether to brave the weather and drive to Reading on Christmas day for the sixty mile journey to Gran’s house and Christmas dinner. Even though there was bitter cold and many smaller streets blocked, ours was plowed allowing us access to major avenues and roadways leading to Reading. “Oh thank God you all made it,” Gran said, “Did you have any trouble getting here?” Ma was curt as ever, “What do you think? We drove in a blizzard. Of course there were problems. Jack almost drove of the road near Phoenixville.” Dad said, “Well, anyway, we made it safe and sound.” Ma couldn’t let the issue go, “No thanks to you. Next time, let me drive. You’ll get us killed.” Dad knew this was about to become a huge argument that would go on for hours. He just let the issue drop. As kids, we were used to the everyday fighting. There was many a night we’d hear mom begging for dad not to hit her. It was a horrific thing for little kids to listen to. We thought this happened in all homes. Most times when dad was at work, Ma was mean to us kids so we were taking Dad’s side when they would fight it out. We never let Ma know who we were rooting for since we spent most of the day with her and that would make life more of a hell than it already was. However, we would get reprieves from the dysfunctional, violent home life with trips to Gran’s house where we were allowed to just be kids. Every year, when we arrived at Gran’s, she always had the same story of how annoyed she was at Santa Claus. “He knows I don’t have kids here. Why does he keep leaving presents? Well, here they are. Maybe you’ll like them. Let’s see what he brought this year. I’m going to have to write him a note letting him know I don’t want presents.” We would always protest and beg her not to write Santa. Every year she forgot the letter and ended up with more presents. The smell of pine always surrounded the tree. She would use an aerosol can of pine scent which gave the plastic tree the look and smell of a real tree (somewhat). She had lights everywhere and decorations in the windows that lit up South 10th Street. Other than what Santa brought us in Philadelphia, this was the next best thing, maybe better. Whatever Santa brought, it was always extra special because it was at Gran’s house and she was the most magical person we knew. She had a way of making up stories and creating games that made our imagination conjure up things more fantastic than the actual present itself. It wasn’t so much the toys we liked as the stories she told us before we got the boxes opened. Now it was just Gran, me and the tree that smelled somewhat like pine. I helped Gran make Walnut rolls, a Hungarian desert that’s laborious to make and yet so good, the work was worth it. By 1982, my parents were divorced and my mother was still angry with me and Gran. There wouldn’t be a visit from her or my siblings. We still tried to make it as pleasant as could be. She was older so she didn’t have the spirit to decorate the way she did years before. I was happy to see the tree with the same ornaments; for me that was Christmas. On Christmas Eve, we exchanged presents and had visits from my uncles and aunts. It was great to see them; it had been years. We all caught up on the latest family gossip usually followed by current events, food, and finally gift exchanges. Merry Christmas calls came in from my uncle and aunt on the west coast along with people stopping by for a quick hello. It was great to feel loved and part of the family even though my mom and my siblings weren’t there. The next few days became a hazy memory. I remember the call from Reading Police asking me to come down to the station, there had been an accident. I found out Gran died in a car crash. It was three days after her last Christmas. I was inconsolable. The feeling was as if someone had punched me in the gut and threw ice-cold water in my face. The one person on earth that gave me unconditional love was gone. There’s so much I never got to tell her. There’s so much she did which made an indelible memory on everyone she touched. I thought I was going to lose my mind. I remember my relatives coming over after the funeral. There were arrangements to be made. What’s to be done with the house, who gets what, where are the cats going to? It was not only a punch to have lost her but to lose Muzzy, Mittens and Lovey made it another level of unforeseen hell. I was glad my aunts took that cats in assuring they had good homes. My mind flashed back to snippets of conversation. I blamed myself. I found everyway conceivable that I caused the accident. I felt such a low self-worth that I thought somehow just being around me was a curse. If anything, there was a profound effect on me for the rest of my life. I will always miss her. There was a lot of perspective. My life seemed to fall into place. What was an illusion I created about my future and what was reality? Everything I went crazy over obsessing on Iggy meant nothing. That friendship meant nothing compared to the enormity of loss. There was a huge hole in my life. From now on, I was never going to be anyone’s special little boy. A few nights later, after the funeral and arrangements on what to do with property were in place, I had a dream. I dreamt Gran was laid out for a viewing on the Livingroom couch. She looked the same as she did years ago, the way she looked when we were little kids. Everyone dressed in black; all saying their final goodbyes as they slowly left the room. There was an indescribable silence as she if she were just sleeping peacefully. Suddenly Gran slowly sat up with her eyes intently staring at me. She wasn’t smiling, she wasn’t calm; she looked worried. She never spoke a word but I understood everything. The feeling came through. “I’ve done everything I could to help you. I need you to know that you’re now in charge of your life. It’s up to you to make yourself happy. It’s up to you to make a success of yourself and make me proud.” It hit me. I felt so horrible how I’ve treated her or taken her for granted. I was so selfish and self-centered. She was the most important person in my life and I never realized it until that moment. There was a huge amount of loss not only of my de-facto mother but also my best friend. That moment, I made up my mind to promise her I would make it on my own. I would make her proud of me and show her I’ve actually become a responsible adult and not some sulking teenager. I would show her there was nothing to worry about; I would not turn into my mother. Wherever Gran was, I wanted her to be content knowing that all the guidance and wisdom and acts of selfless giving were not in vain. She would be remembered by my actions and not just empty words. I put together a plan of action. I would get my degree, become successful something and that would be my testament to her that I made good on my promise. I had to act fast. That morning, I heard from the nursing home. Granpop was getting dropped off at the house with a hospital bed in the living room the next day. With Gran gone, his first priority would be to throw me out. I packed my things and then scoured the house for items she cherished and wanted us kids to have. The Christmas ornaments were packed into the trunk along with clothes, photos from her parents and relatives in Europe. I also remember a roll of quarters she had stashed in the floor of her bedroom closet. She said the ones made before a certain year were silver and worth money. I found the glass antacid jar she stored them in but as I was on the floor rummaging around, I found a large business envelope with papers. It was tucked flat against the inside wall of the closet tucked into the wood trim as the base of the wall. I brought the envelope out along with the jar. The envelope was old and smelled of dust and mothballs. I opened the envelope and found certificates of some kind. They had “Ollenbach Mills Company” with really ornate lettering and trim all around the edges. They came in denominations of a thousand dollars. I cried. I lost control. Here she was looking for these over the years. She meant to give them to mom so we kids could go to college. She always told us she thought her husband threw them out because he knew who they were for. Well, she didn’t lose them, they were just misplaced. Now that Ollenbach Mills was out of business, I knew they were worthless but since Gran wanted us to have them, I would just frame them as a reminder of her. The artwork on them was so amazing. There was type of lithograph of the mill in its heyday, smoke coming out of the stacks, street cars passing by the front of the building. The lettering was super fancy. This wasn’t something people see anymore. Nothing this ornate seemed to exist in the modern world that was 1982. So, they got packed up and along they went. Now that the car was packed, I had to find a place to live. The thought was daunting to say the least. How? How do I ask for help when I avoided that for years? The only one you can trust is yourself. How can that be my truth if you need others around for help and guidance? No one can live or grow by themselves. It’s not the way the universe works. I had a few ideas of where to ask for a place to stay. I would start with the first one, the easiest in a way, Iggy. I had forgiven Iggy a long time ago. For whatever reason, our relationship didn’t work. The reason was probably me. I was very needy and had so much emotional baggage; there really wasn’t room for a relationship. It wasn’t the right time. I put the whole mess on my shoulders. I can’t blame him. However, he was maybe the person to ask since there’s been some time between us. Who knows? Maybe now now we might have a friendship, the one I always wanted. I never wanted him just dropping out of my life. We both come from a place where we couldn’t deal with the possibility of hurting each other. In this case, it seemed to make the situation hurt all the more because of what wasn’t said. Still, there had to be an attempt. With what had happened in the recent past, the last thing on my mind was the drama of a relationship. Chapter 23 – New Year’s Day 1984 The first night at Sharon’s, my mind wouldn’t stop. The events of the past week were going over my head repeatedly. I kept going over events where I was short with Gran or things I promised I would do but never did. Now it was too late to make up for it. There was no more “I’ll make it up to you,” or, “I’ll get to it tomorrow.” I hope she knows how sorry I am. I hope she sees how broken up I feel over the whole thing. Some people say they see ghosts. The theater, CPR, was supposedly haunted. Some say they’re scared of the balcony where supposedly an actor committed suicide, shot his head off. Now that Gran was gone, I wanted to go there. I wanted to stick around all night long and meet this ghost all in an attempt to have him give Gran a message. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for it all. God in heaven forgive me for every rude, nasty thing I’ve ever done to her. She didn’t ever deserve it. She always was there for us and I never realized how much that meant until now. Some people say they’re scared of ghosts like the ones I thought lived on the second floor of Gran’s house. I wasn’t anymore. Before I left the house for the last time, I made sure I fed and watered Muzzy, Mittens and Lovey. I was relieved my aunt (who was technically a first cousin once removed), decided to take all three of them. I was happy they weren’t going to a shelter and I knew Aunt Joanie would be a great mother. As an actual person, she was a disaster. She was fat, loud, and most of all ignorant. Everything she said, every time she opened her mouth, the volume was off the scales. She was as subtle as a brick. She was not only not one of the sharpest crayons in the box but seemed to wear it as a badge of honor instead of trying to read a book or take a class. She lived in a small town near Pottsville where she had a few acres of land and was liked by her little circle of neighbors and friends. Her husband, Danny, was just as fat and just as ignorant. They both were the personification of Appalachian-Coal region idiocy. Both had shut their minds off when it came to any ideas that didn’t coincide with their own. The only ties I had with those two were Gran. They loved her and as such, we would take trips up to visit. Each time I remember wanting to run to the car and stay there for the rest of the trip. She sounded embarrassing when she asked a question – or more accurately, I felt embarrassed for her. She had no clue she was so dumb. She was in good company since those around her was just as –if not more so - narrow-minded and bigoted. In short, both her and her husband’s minds didn’t power enough wattage to light a five watt bulb. However, the one thing she did have was a love for animals. She adored them and vice versa. I knew the cats would find a good home with her. The first thing I did before scouring the house for important items and personal effects was to take the cats out to the yard for a last walk around. I was going to miss them terribly. I left the cat box to either Joanie or Grandpop who she would meet tomorrow. She would be packing her fat butt into a pair of stretchy double-knit Capri pants (testing the limits of the fabric, each stitch straining to hold back from splitting apart) along with a pastel colored tank top (also filled to capacity and revealing every lump, bulge and physical imperfection as though she wasn’t wearing a top at all.) After getting him set up with a hospital bed and the home health aide, she would head back up north. After I clipped all three cats onto their leashes, I picked one up for a last kiss on their ears and a warm hug. Tears streamed down my face knowing this was the last time I would ever see them again. To me, they were family. They were also a reminder of Gran since she loved them all so much. They were an extension of her. Saying goodbye to them was hardest of all. When a major tragedy happens, parts of our lives seem to fall into the correct perspective. For example, when there’s a natural disaster, people are so thankful they’re alive. Things can be replaced. The non-essential things are put by the wayside. Life becomes the most important, paramount part of the event. Looking back, all the self-pity over Iggy, all the insecurity over who did or didn’t like me at the Scarab or with Gina’s friends suddenly meant absolutely nothing. They couldn’t be there for me when I needed it and that puts them right where they should be. They no longer have any influence over what decisions I make and certainly nothing to do with things that are truly cherished and truly loved. Being infatuated with my first crush, was exciting and exhilarating but I needed more and I needed to expect more. I didn’t have to take a little bit of attention and blow it all out of proportion. Just because I made out with someone in their car didn’t indicate it was a good time to pick out china patterns at Wannamker’s. Gran was my best friend but I wasn’t much of a friend to myself. Chapter – 23 – January 2, 1984 I walked up to the front door thinking I’m wasting my time. What if Iggy said ‘yes’; wouldn’t that make things even more uncomfortable than they already are? Gran passed and Iggy hasn’t called or sent a card, nothing. I’m sure he must have heard she died. It’s obvious, he doesn’t give a damn. If I weren’t so desperate, I’d be upset about it. Gran’s death has made me see things much clearer. I wish I had that clarity when she was here. Since Gran died, I seem to be in a fog, a trance. As for Iggy, if anything says ‘I don’t want to have anything to do with you’, it’s the silence and his inaction. I thought you know what; he owes me. I never asked to be treated like this. He could at least put me up for a few days still I get things in my life sorted out. I’m past caring if I come off sounding pathetic. I AM pathetic. I’ll take what I can get. Screw him. I don’t care about the non-existent relationship; I just need a place to stay. In less than twenty-four hours, I’m getting thrown out. I have to give this a try, no matter how awful the situation. I walked into the apartment building and rang his bell, apartment, 2f. The buzzer sounded; I pushed my way in and went up. Iggy was waiting there with a grin. I couldn’t believe how he was acting. If you’re going to be treat me like hell, why act so friendly as though nothing ever happened? Why did I show up here? Now, I’m angry and desperate. I think I should get out of here as soon as possible. I can’t waste my time on this fool. He seemed actually happy to see me, “How are you buddy? I haven’t seen you in a while.” He went to give me a hug but I didn’t give him one back. Emotionally, I was still in a fog. I didn’t’ have time for him. He certainly didn’t have time for me. I have to suck it up and just ask anyway. “Come in, come in and sit down. So, can I get you anything?” he said. “No, I’m OK, thank you.” He suddenly looked concerned, “I heard about Gran. I’m sorry she’s gone.” I didn’t acknowledge what he said. It didn’t matter anymore. He did not matter anymore. He was a means to an end. I was not going to live on the street and I was not moving back to Philly. He was getting this visit out of desperation, nothing more. “I’ve come to ask you something.” “Oh, sure,” he looked a bit uneasy. He probably thought I was going to bring up some drama about how things never quite ended. I heard keys in the front door behind me. A short blonde woman in her twenties stepped in with a bag of groceries. Iggy did the introductions, “Phil, this is Crystal. Crystal, this is Phil.” Crystal was gracious and welcoming, “Phil! Iggy’s told me a lot about you. Pleased to meet you,” she placed the bag on the table and put her hand out. I instinctually shook her hand and smiled. “Nice to meet you as well,” I didn’t mean a word of it. So, this is why he’s been so scarce. He got back with Crystal. She’s pretty, I’ll give him that much. “So, what brings you here?” Iggy said with a nervous look as he fiddled with a cigarette. He tapped it on the coffee table then would flip it over and tap the other end. He did this over and over. Crystal spoke up as she picked up the bag and started for the kitchen, “Phil, can I get you anything to drink? We have beer, soda –“I cut her off, “No, I’m OK but thanks.” Iggy asked, “So, what brings you here?” “I’m sorry, I’ve got to go. Just stopped by, that’s all.” I couldn’t take it. Even if they said ‘yes’, I’d rather live on the street. Iggy said, “Well, um. OK. Looks like you’re in a hurry.” He looked confused and shrugged his shoulders at Crystal. She looked just as perplexed. “Crystal, nice to meet you,” I wanted to fly out the window and skip taking the stairs. I knew this may be the reason he’s been distant and completely unavailable but I didn’t have time for any of this. The funny thing about survival, when you’re in that mode, the only thing you can think of is the basics; food, water, shelter. Right now, I had none of that and I didn’t have time to waste explaining that to Iggy and Crystal. Iggy said, “No, hold up. You just go here. Stay awhile.” I ignored him and hurried down to the door. I almost tripped on the carpeting at the bottom of the stairs. I was almost on the sidewalk when I heard Iggy calling after me, “Wait! Hold on a sec, Phil.” I made a dash for the car. I could hear his heavy boots coming down the stairs. He sprinted over to the car, “Phil, don’t be like this. Let’s talk.” “Have a good day, dude,” I rolled up my car window and sped off down the street. At least I could say I explored that option. It was a no go; on to the next. I needed to stop by the house, check the answering machine. Maybe one of my other prospects called back. I walked into the living room and I saw the red light blinking; someone called and left a message. Great! I clicked to retrieve them, “You have three new messages. Message one: ‘Hi Phil, it’s Iggy. Can you call…” I skipped it, Next message – Message two: ‘Hey it’s Julie calling you back. Give me a call. See ya! Oh, and like just ask for me. If Kenny answers, just hang up. He’s been really angry lately and I don’t want him to …” I pressed ‘next’. Next message – Message three: “Phil! Give me a call. Oh, and this is Sharon. Talk with you soon.” I called back Sharon as fast as I could dial the number. “Hello?” It was Sharon’s Aunt Bessie. “Hi, is Sharon there?” “Sure, she’s upstairs. I’ll call her. Is this Phil?” “Yes, It’s Phil, How are you?” I genuinely liked Sharon’s Aunt. She was a sweet, motherly like woman. Nothing like Ma but Gran would love her. I heard footsteps. Sharon said, “Yo! What’s up boy?” “Sharon, I’m desperate and have a favor to ask you. Can I come over and talk?” I was practically pleading. “Sure, stop over. I’ll be here.” She sounded upbeat but I know she was curious and a little concerned about what was going on. She was my last chance. If I could not stay with her, I was down to zero options. Gina was not able to take me in. What am I going to do? Where am I going to go? I cannot live out of a car. Besides, Granpop would report it stolen. I don’t need that on top of everything else. I knocked on Sharon’s door. “Hey boy! Come on up to my room.” We went to her room on the second floor and I explained what happened. She couldn’t guarantee a ‘yes’ answer but would have to run it past her aunt. We went to the kitchen and asked Bessie. She was OK with some ground rules. I had to pick up after myself. I had to give her $25 a month for room rent. No loud music. No friends over and especially no drinking or drugs. I could smoke but only on the back patio. I had to get my own groceries but I could use the washer and dryer. I also had to be in the house no later than 11 pm. She was pretty much set on the rules. If I didn’t keep up with these, I’d have to go. Bessie was certainly always known for her honesty. “Deal,” I said. Bessie handed me a spare key. I couldn’t tell her how grateful I was. There was a light at the end of the tunnel; I wasn’t going to be on the streets. I took my things out of the car and set up the little stuff I had on the third floor bedroom that consisted of a small twin bed and a dresser and a small closet. Chapter - Spring Break in New York City Spring Break! It’s time to just kick back for a little and enjoy the time off from classes. I’m still helping Janet with office work (that doesn’t stop because it’s Spring Break). I had a chance to follow Kim and Sharon to New York for a one-day trip to the Big Apple. I mentioned it to David and he said he’d check with Paul. Maybe they will be tagging along. They have friends that and have been wanting to meet up for a while. Plans get coordinated and before long, Sharon, Kim, Paul, David and I are on our way. We had to leave early, 7 a.m. I think we were all tired from getting up so early. I was late getting home from work since there was a fresh batch of enrollment packets to fill and mail. We got them out but it wasn’t until 8 p.m. Then Sharon, Bessie and I had some coffee and cake before heading off to bed. I was up a at 4:30 to get dressed, showered, fed and ready for the bus. We all got up around the same time (except Bessie). It’s that time of year where you don’t know what to wear. The weather in New York was supposed to be sunny with highs in the sixties. So I work a heavy sweater and a light jacket. We were meeting up with Dave and Paul at the Port Authority Bus terminal at 42nd Street and 8th Avenue. I was so excited! I had never been to New York and only heard Ma’s same old stories round and round for years and years. I was so happy to see it for myself. As we got closer to the city, we could see the top of the Empire State Building’s hypodermic needle glinting in the sun along with the Twin Towers shimmering and anchoring the lower end of Manhattan. We were still around twenty minutes out but those buildings you could see for miles. The bus arrived on time. Everything about New York was crowded and gigantic. Gigantic crowds, traffic, architecture, and general awesomeness. Anyone seeing the city for the first time has to be just as filled with awe as I was that moment. We met Paul and David at the top of the escalators and then walked out onto 8th Avenue. The traffic and the noise of honking car horns was overwhelming. There were porno theaters lining 8th Avenue north of 42nd Street and all along 42nd street between 8th avenue and Times Square. One marquee was the movie “Wet Teenage Sluts”. I had to ask David, “Um, gee. I wonder what the plot line is? Do you think it got a good review in the Times?” He looked at me a grinned, “There was a ‘review’ alright,” he made air quotations, “but it never left the theater.” He cautioned, “Now, as we go down 42nd Street, keep your eyes straight ahead and don’t engage anyone in conversation. Act as though you already live here and have seen it all before. Don’t let anything shock you, got it?” I nodded in agreement. As we walked down 42nd, I was propositioned at least four times by both men and women and was assured I’d get the best price on cocaine this side of the Hudson. I was never so happy to get out of there. Finally, we hit it! We were at Times Square! It was just as amazing as I thought it would be. Immense advertisements and lights, even in the day were all vying for people’s attention. It was sensory overload on an immense scale. Tons of people of every variety pushing to get across the street, or to a store, or to the subway, or to a taxi. It was just crazy. Even being from Philly, I had never seen anything like it. There were advertisements for Broadway Shows, “Evita”, “Cats” screaming in huge billboards several stories tall. I noticed an immense advertisement that wrapped a fifteen-story building highlighting an electronics brand. Another sign spelled out the name of manufacture across the keys a typewriter. There were huge cigarette advertisements stacked on top of New York radio stations stacked on top of bank advertisements promising the best interest rates. Barkers walked slowly up and down the sidewalk yelling out “tickets for sale” or coupons to ride the Circle Line ferry around the city. There were also a group yelling about how we’re all going to hell. In the next block, a group of Hari Krishnas danced to drums. This was all topped off by the loud conversations of people trying to hear each other over the noise of traffic and taxis honking incessantly. Kim told us to stay together, she knew a Greek diner on 47th street that should be a place to get breakfast. “This place is great, eh?” She said. “I’ve been here a few times. The food is good, just don’t ask what’s in it.” “Ewww. Why did you have to put that idea in my head? Thanks Kim.” “No problem Phil.” She looked pleased to help with my initiation to Manhattan. Sharon chimed in, “Hey, did you notice that guy at the Port Authority? The one with the brown paper bags on his feet? Did you see that women’s expression?” “What woman?” I asked. “The one he was chasing after! She ran screaming! I was going to point it out but we had to cross the street and I missed pointing out at the time.” “No, I didn’t catch it but sure wish I had a camera.” We all laughed. It was a typical day in New York. “OK,” Paul said, “just remember, the numbered streets run east and west but the avenues run north and south.” “Got it.” “Oh, and don’t talk with anyone that looks even remotely unstable. Where’s your wallet?” I panicked, “My!...oh, it’s here in my back pocket.” “Wrong,” Kim interjected, “Put that thing in your front pocket. You’re libel to get it stolen. Sharon asked, “So where you guys headed?” She finished the last bite of her eggs and put her paper napkin on the plate. “Waiter, can I get the check please?’ “Well,” Paul said, “I’m thinking we could take the 1 train to the World Trade Center, the walk down to Battery Park and take the ferry over to the Statue of Liberty. Sound good Phil?” My eyes lit up, “Yeah! That sounds great.” I couldn’t believe I was actually here with friends I felt happy to spend the day with. I was especially happy they knew where they were going but I had no clue. I could see me getting lost and being sold into forced labor at some sweatshop. Before long, we were saying goodbye to Sharon and Kim who were headed to the upper west side. They had a friend up near 72nd Street and Amsterdam but I can’t remember what they told me they were planning for the day. Sharon told me but I was half asleep at the time. “Be sure to meet us at the Port Authority at no later than 9 p.m. The bus fills up quick and we’ll want to get in line early or we’ll miss the last bus at 10. We said our goodbyes and off the three of us went to catch the 1 train to the Twin Towers. As the subway train pulled into the 42nd Street station, it was covered-end to end-in graffiti and grime. I kept saying to myself, “Don’t react. Act blasé and pretend everything is just fine.” As I was thinking that, a woman in a floral housedress opened the door to our car. She was laughing as though someone just told her the most hilarious joke. For some reason, she was carrying a teakettle in one hand. She ran up to a handsome dude waiting at the doors to hop off at the next stop. She leaned on him and laughed. He smiled and started laughing too. As the train slowed to a jerky stop 23rd St, the man stepped off the train and looked back at the woman as if she was absolutely out of her mind. I gave a look to Dave and Paul look. They sat across from me and smirked, trying not to laugh. As the train rolled into 14th Street, the doors slammed open. The blaring sound of a jazz band on the platform made a welcome break from the monotony of stops along the way. They sounded great. There was a crowd standing there watching them with onlookers and passersby dropping money into their open guitar case. It was an ensemble of guitar, trumpet, trombone and bass. All along the line, the train operator was unintelligible, blah, blah, blah, blah, the doors, blah, blah is next.” Soon we were at our stop. Paul motioned for me to move to the doors with them. The conductor said, “World Trade Center-Cortlandt transfer to the blah blah blah and blah blah blah….Our next stop is blah blah blah, Watch the doors.” God only knows where the train was going next. We found ourselves in the World Trade Center Concourse with banners that said “Shop The World!” The stores ranged from drug stores like Duane Reed to Cartier and Gap. Everywhere there were signs above pointing in different directions. I felt more like an airport. “World Trade Center 4, 5 – Church Street” or “1 and 6 Word Trade Center, Vesey Street” and on and on. They all seemed to be pointing in contradictory directions like the scarecrow from the “Wizard of Oz” We went through a store and out onto Church Street. Paul led the way up a flight of steps to this enormous plaza between the Twin Towers and the other buildings surrounding them. As we walked up to 2 World Trade, I stood next to the building and looked up. I felt dizzy like I was going to fall over. Usually when I looked at the top of the building, I didn’t have to crane my head back that far. We went through the polished nickel and glass revolving doors leading onto the mezzanine. Directly ahead was an immense textile sculpture by Joan Miro. I made a joke about how big the vacuum cleaner would be to clean it. Last Chapter – Endings and New Beginnings I knew it was going to be a long day; a long, six hour ride to Pittsburgh via the PA turnpike. I was up at five a.m. packing the last of my clothes into a duffel bag. I had such a hard time getting to sleep. I kept wondering if I was doing the right thing. This was such a huge jump, a leap into the unknown. I took a shower, got dressed and picked up my old duffel bag. Bessy was in the kitchen. She walked me to the door to see me off. I thanked her for putting me up over the past few months. “Bessy, I don’t think you have any idea what this meant to me. I’d be on the streets if it weren’t for you,” “Oh, Phil, I’m so glad you got to stay with us. It was my pleasure. I’ll miss having you here. Be sure to call me when you get there and give Sharon a kiss for me.” I assured her I would. “Keep in touch Phil. I loved having you here. You deserve the best,” she said with a warm smile. It was obvious she was trying not to turn into a puddle of tears. I was just about there. I gave her a long hug then got in the rented Oldsmobile. I waved goodbye as I drove off towards Route 222. As I rounding the corner onto Fifth Street, I had an idea; something I needed to see one last time. I took the winding roads to the top of Mount Penn and watched the city come to life. I looked up at the Pagoda thinking of all the happy memories of Gran, Eileen and my brothers excitedly spotting the lights of the Pagoda on our vacations from Philadelphia. I thought of Iggy and the times we came up here. I thought of all the drives I took along Skyline, marveling at nature when the autumn colored leaves seemed to light up from within on sunny October days. “Good bye Reading. I’m going to miss you.” I thought a moment. “Gran, wherever you are, I hope you’re proud of me. I wish I could see the surprise and happiness on your face when I got accepted to the Pitt. You probably already know that because I think you’re always with me somehow. Well, be there for me if you can. Watch out for me while I’m in Pittsburgh. God, I wish you were here so bad.” I cried. I cried so hard. The emotions were overwhelming. I’m just glad I took this one last time to see all of Reading from up here. Who knows? Maybe someday I’ll move back? I think that’s the biggest difference from when I got here to now; I have options that I didn’t know existed. I can choose to make my life anything I want. It’s my choice, but that also means I’m responsible for the failures as well. I drove down to the city, over the Bingaman Street Bridge and onto Lancaster Avenue. Before getting on the turnpike, I knew I had to eat something. I needed breakfast. So there was only one place to go. I had to eat at the Shillington Diner. As I pulled into the lot, I thought to myself, damn it! I saw his car. The primer grey Bonneville parked right in front. I thought about turning the car around and going someplace else. I mean it’s been over a year, I hoped there are no hard feelings at this point, but I still wanted to take the easy way and avoid any weird, awkward meeting. I thought, we really should stay in touch. Iggy is a good person. I’m grateful to have him as the first love of my life. I just feel bad my insecurities and possessiveness took over. What I didn’t know then was that fear was the main motivation after we first kissed. My mind wasn’t filled with a joy so much as a dread. I used to think, how do I keep him? What if I love him more than he does me? How do I lose the least? I think I’m always going to have that insecurity; a scar that will always be there. I just need to stay conscious of my motivations and act out of love, not fear. I chose to forgive Iggy months ago, but first I had to forgive myself. There wasn’t any shame in falling for him. There was no shame in giving my heart to someone for the first time. I just had to feel the hurt and move through it. I’m lucky he was my first true boyfriend; guess I could have done a lot worse. Honestly, I hope he finds happiness. I hope Crystal and him make a go of it. I thought a little more as I sat there parked next to his car. Come to think of it, they would be good parents; they have the capacity to at least. I think growing is the difference between holding onto everything versus being free to allow things to go as they should be. Love can’t be forced. Love can’t exist alongside fear. So, I’m going to walk in and have a good time, one last time, with Crystal and Iggy. I walked in and looked around, there he was. “Hey! Good to see you!” I said giving Iggy a big hug, “How have you been Iggy?” He looked happy. He had a grin from ear to ear, “Great man, I’m great; good to see you too. Wanna join me?” “Sure. I’m getting breakfast before I head out to Pittsburgh. Where’s Crystal?” “She’s working. I’m supposed to meet her in an hour, so I thought I’d stop off here first.” His eyes lit up with a thought, “OH, that’s right. You’re going to school out there. Well, good luck man. You’re going to do great.” Knowing Iggy, I’m positive he knew this was the day I was leaving. We made a lot of small talk. We talked about Crystal, the weather, how Reading is getting more and more run down. I asked about his new job with the ambulance company. He asked how I arranged the whole move and was I going to be living with Sharon? What was going to be my major? “Yeah, I’m going to stay with Sharon and Kim. We’re sharing a large apartment but it’s a mess. You know, usual student off-campus housing. It’s sort of like your apartment with Del except worse.” “How could it possibly be worse? Does it have a roof?” “Iggy, you know me too well. You know I’d live in an apartment with no roof. You know me by now.” I glanced at one of the waitresses and reminded him of ‘voice woman’ and her ‘some rainbow’ remark. We both cracked up, each adding another detail to our interactions with her over the years. I never figured out where she went. It felt so good to laugh with him. The feeling we had when we first met. The feeling of just silly conversation and laughter; the feeling we were such a good match; a feeling of pure joy. “She could have retired, died of lung cancer or just moved to another waitressing job. In a weird way, I’ll miss her too,” I said. “Same here.” After we finished eating, the waitress, a cheery full-figured, blonde woman in her thirties walked over to our booth. Her name tag read “Robin”. She smiled and handed us our checks, but Iggy quickly grabbed mine, “This is a goodbye present. Don’t worry about it; I’ll pick up the check.” “I appreciate that Iggy but you don’t have to –“ “No, I’ll get it,” he maneuvered out of the booth and went up to the counter. I looked in my wallet, I had thirty dollars. I pulled out the piece of paper with Sharon and Kim’s phone number, the “412” area code stuck out of the folded piece of paper. They’re expecting me later in the afternoon. I planned that thirty bucks should get me through a few tanks of gas and lunch on the way. At least the weather is supposed to be sunny. No clouds, only blustery cold winds. I’ll have to keep that in mind as I’m going over the mountains. The winds can be so strong; they can knock a car right off the road. “OK Iggy, well this is it. I’m off. It was so great seeing you,” I felt my heart breaking all over again. “Same here, same here; I’ll tell Crystal you said ‘Hi’. Come to think of it,” he paused, “I have something I need to give you. Don’t worry, it’s not a bomb.” “Oh, man. Really? I wanted a bomb so bad. You know how I love plastic explosives. A bomb would really go well with my credit score.” Iggy looked at me for a moment, “It’s strange, I mean it’s almost like you were supposed to stop here before your drive out west,” He motioned me out the door, “Come, It’s in the trunk of my car.” We walked outside into the sunny morning as the wind gusts kicked up and put us in a virtual deep freeze. “Whew, it’s cold as hell out here,” I rubbed my gloves together as though that would warm me up: it didn’t. Iggy unlocked the trunk and handed me a brown paper shopping bag with some sort of box. “What’s this?” I said. He smiled that lopsided smile I’ll always remember and said, “Open it.” I tore off the brown paper bag and saw it was the art work I gave him for his birthday a few years ago. Now he’s handing it back. I felt confused and let down. Why is he giving me back my gift to him? Why doesn’t he want it? I could think of a few reasons. “See? I added something. Look out the window, next to the piano,” he couldn’t wait to see my reaction. “Oh my God, you added your Pontiac in the driveway! How did you manage that?” He beamed with pride, “It was Crystal’s idea.” “She’s a really special woman. I hope you know how much she loves you.” Iggy continued, “Crystal told me the bests gifts are the ones you give away without expecting anything in return. When you gave me this, you didn’t expect anything in return. I didn’t see it at the time, but Crystal pointed that out,” I could see he was getting emotional, “So, she added the Pontiac. She had a bitch of a time ungluing and re-assembling it. I had it in the trunk because I was going to mail it to you this week. Think of it as a house warming present.” “Oh man, I think I’m going to cry. This is perfect. I’ll always think of you guys when I look at it. This means so much to me.” We both smiled at each other with tears welling up. “Phil, I’m so proud of you. You’ve overcome so much. Gran would be proud too. I’m sure wherever she is, she must be happy as all hell.” “Iggy, I…I mean,” I pulled him close to me and gave him a strong hug. I didn’t want to but I started crying again. I know I could always feel safe telling Iggy anything. He always had that effect on me. I don’t know why. “Iggy,” I sobbed, “I just don’t know.” It was finally hitting me. This was it. I was leaving for good. A whole new part of my life was waiting and it felt both exciting and terrifying. I had my head buried in the lapel of his leather bomber jacket, “Am I doing the right thing? I hope I’m not fucking up my life. This is such a huge leap into the unknown. What if I fail? Iggy, I’m so scared. I’m so damned scared.” “Hey there buddy; no tears right? Hey, look at me. You’re going to be OK. Trust me on that. You’re smart, talented, and sexy as hell,” he tilted my chin up to meet his face, “Look at the blue eyes on you; I’ll definitely never forget them.” “OK,” I conceded, “I guess you’re right. I am sexy as hell. You know something? I’m confident. I can blow my way through college! I’ll sleep my way to the middle and save on school loans at the same time! That’s a pretty damn brilliant idea, don’t you think?” Our tears turned to laugher until there came a lull in the conversation. I imagined a carnival ride and how it feels when it slowly comes to a stop. It was time to get off. “OK, Iggy, I’m off. Please tell Crystal how thankful I am for the present.” “It’s my pleasure. I’ll tell her. Be safe driving out there and stay in touch, ‘kay?” “I will, I will,” I gave him a couple of quick pats on the back. We gave each other one last quick hug. I looked back in the rearview mirror while waiting at the light. Iggy was wiping tears from his eyes as he got into his land yacht and drove back to Reading. I never talked to him again. I got reports from Sharon on how he and Sharon were doing. They had a few children and moved to Kenhorst. I was happy how things turned out for both of them. I turned on the radio. The DJ advised of a black ice warning after five p.m. Then the sound of synthesizers slowing rose in volume as the DJ said, “You’re listing to WIFI, Berks County’s sound of the 80’s. This is A-Ha with “The Sun Always Shines On TV”. Music has always been my first language. I remember portions of my life in lyrics and bars of music. That day, that song, on that sunny, Saturday morning; this song heralded the closing of one chapter in my life and onto the next… somehow, the music never sounded so sweet. Chapter – Gran Midpoint – after Gran dies. • The funeral is horrible. His mom doesn’t speak wthi him. Eileen will but she gives an update on how mom and his brothers are doing. It’s not good. • Eileen spells out how worried Gran was about him and how she didn’t want him to turn out like his mother. • • He has to money or resources to get out and if so, where would he live? • He takes a few things that Gran wanted him to have but know one knew where there or knew even existed. One of those things is worth a lot of money. Bearer bonds she bought with the money from her brother’s law suit. She was going to give them to Ma but never did. It was supposed to pay for Ma’s college. Ma never went to college. The money is worth three grand. He took them and sells them to fund part of the way to get out of Reading. Ollenbach Mills Bearer Bonds were bought out by Burlington-Cheltenham Corporation after they bought the company a year ago. Even though Ollenbach closed in Reading, it’s new factory in South Carolina didn’t go out of business, it was bought out. Part of the deal was paying off the bonds. • • Sharon and she say he can stay. NO problem but Kim will throw him out in a heartbeat of he shows up high or drunk. However, he can only stay till the begging of Fall semester in a few months since they’ve both been accepted to Pitt. • . • He has to get over his low self-esteem and his doubts he’s had all his life with the bad tapes his mom has given him. • Needs to keep grades up and get his job back at admissions • Julie already hired someone else – • A few weeks later, Julie stops Phil in the hall and said he can have his job back on the condition he be more responsible and reliable. Her new hire-ee wasn’t able to stay in Reading due to a family crisis out of the area. Phil already knows the job so she won’t have to train someone else. – He takes the job. • Phil has to increase his GPA to get accepted into Pitt for the fall semester or he has to place to live and his dreams of getting out of poverty and doing something with his life will be over. • At Pitt, he’ll qualify for housing, meal plan and books. He applies for a scholarship. He doesn’t get it but he does get student loans that will cover the expenses. He needs to save up for the trip and for his books, which aren’t covered.