THE PARTY/All Tomorrow’s Parties
It was held at his friend’s house. A perfect place, just cozy enough.
She walked in and looked around. The place was lovely, a farmhouse, sitting proudly on lots of land. Surrounded by trees that guarded it well, including a weeping willow in the front yard by a natural small pond.
Inside, the rooms looked well worn. Furniture from different eras gathered like old friends. Bookcases, overflowing. None of her friends’ IKEA bullshit about minimal design. The living room was layered with books, then knicknacks, art upon art. Paintings of a small blonde boy, probably Him or his brothers.
The fireplace mantel held a child’s sports award, not his Grammy. Probably another sign of his prevailing domesticity these days. He had a girlfriend (fiancee?) and was again head over heels. The kid was hers, or so it was assumed. There was again that question in her mind; who did he love more, the mother or the idea of being a father?
There was a chair setup for a film interview, well lit and surrounded in a surreal way by lights and flag diffusers, as if it were meant for a space alien. Someone had replaced one of the photography flags with one of his stained glass experiments, so that instead of a gentle colored gel illuminating the subject’s face, it would add a psychedelic effect on the interviewee. She wasn’t sure if the display was permanent, but it was his 50th birthday year and all bets were off.
He was suddenly famous again.
She wondered if he’d remember her name. She kept wandering around the house, free in the way when you are a stranger at a party, in the way that you’d never dare when you are invited as a friend. She was not the only one, and ran into another (NEW) groupie who was buzzing with excitement. That was her several years ago, when being in the same room with him set her body off with excitement. She felt a little sad for not being the girl she used to be. She missed the buzz, but couldn’t remember what it felt like. Some piece of her had died along the way. Her life was drained of color and she had the sense of suddenly seeing it that way, in all its dull reality.
She felt out of place all of a sudden. Not part of his current life, a piece of his history. Maybe her invitation came in the tradition of “This is Your Life”. And here is that sweet young thing from the Radio Station!!
Peeking into the kitchen, she saw him talking excitedly in the corner. Like a magnet, his eyes were drawn to hers and he stopped talking midsentence. He smiled grandly, put down his (non alcoholic) drink and rushed to her.
She thought it was going to be a Hollywood embrace, she’s cry, he’d kiss her and everyone else would disappear. The thought of it made her cringe a little, she both wanted it and didn’t. But in the moment before they talked and caught up, he held her with his eyes, and then gave her a full body hug.
Shit! It’s still there, she thought.
It wasn’t the star quality she missed, it was the part of the “hidden” him she remembered. The innermost peanut in the Russian Doll of his personalities. The piece that only she knew.
He held her so long that she felt embarrassed. Yet she recognized that place inside his embrace, not realizing how much she missed it. And him.
They held each other for far too long as the party swirled around them. Everyone tried to keep talking as if it were all normal, but eventually people ran out of ways to pretend.
They broke apart slowly, still smiling deeply into each others’ faces. Tears rolled down her cheeks without her actually crying.
“How ya doing, kid?” He asked,wanting to soak up all the years she had been away from him. He wanted it all back.
“Great, kid. How are you?” It was something to be able to give it all right back to him. The nickname she deserved and he didn’t. Nobody else gets to call him kid, not since he’s become the eldest person in the room on a regular basis.
The next voice she heard was the girlfriend. Who didn’t even sound jealous. That was exactly the type of woman he needed. Someone who would accept everything from his past and understand that his present would also contain multitudes.
To everyone’s surprise, including hers, she looked over her shoulder at the man of similar disposition and introduced him.
“This is my fiance. We’re getting married next year,”
Without a blink, PT transferred his gaze and shook his hand. Then grabbed his arm, then slapped him into an embrace of his own.
“Take care of this one, she’s a treasure,”
He remembered.
==
Several hours later, the conversations turned to music, then instruments, then songs, as his parties always did.
Everyone drifted into a circle, children and dogs in the center, where the campfire would be. He led the group in some songs, and sang some by himself. When he started one of THEIR songs, she joined in without realizing it. Her voice was thin and breathy, but had the pleasant undercurrent he loved.
“I forgot how much i missed your voice,” he said in front of the crowd when it was over.
“Me too,” she thought. It had been a few years since the last time she sang properly. She couldn’t even remember. Even her fiance was surprised. She had tried to sing to him a few times as they fell asleep, but he never seemed to notice, one way or another.
“I used to call her my little frog. Like the one in the Warner Brothers cartoons. The one who could sing so beautifully, but everytime Bugs put it in front of an audience, the frog wouldn’t sing. Everytime she got in front of a microphone, she’d freeze,”
And he made a face, crossing his eyes and turning his head. Poking at her gently.
She wasn’t sure why he was telling this story, but smiled to remember those days. It was all true, but she seemed to remember him getting more angry about it at the time.
He offered her the floor, “You must have a few new songs in you?” but she didn’t. He bugged her and so did the audience, until he got her to sit next to him as they went through a few more of their old songs. It seemed like they had forgotten more than they remembered. It was all a great laugh.
As it got later and later, he refused to let her go. He invited them both to stay over in one of his many extra bedrooms upstairs. She relented and felt the jealousy turn palpable among the other attendees, especially the new groupie. It was impossible to describe the connection they had, deeper than the time together, than the songs, than the comfort of being next to each other, but everybody wanted it. Even the Girlfriend knew she wasn’t in that Pocket, and it made her keep one bag packed and kept her paying rent in her studio in the city. Even if she managed to get him to marry her, she’d never have all of him.
==
Sat aft, 6:40pm, Fornatele’s Mixed Bag
Chaim Tannenbaum//McGarrigal Sisters, Young Love
Someday Soon-Judy Collins
The horse Rider-lessly passes
John Prine
==
They ended up being the last few people still awake a few hours later. Her boyfriend had gone up to bed before midnight and here the sun was just about to come up. He alluded to his new tour a few times throughout the night. When she pressed him further, it turned out that it was only a couple dates, up and down the East Coast. But he had gotten together a new band, 3 guys who were excited to play with him, enough to agree to the dates at least. What he really needed was someone to help organize. Her old job.
She was slightly disappointed and relieved that she wasn’t asking her to sing with him. He could PAY her this time, so at least there was that kind of respect. And she knew he’d want her to introduce him, he liked that. He hated introducing himself, just like back in the coffeehouse days. She wanted to agree just for that part. To be a part of him, of his machine. To be stuck with him in the car, like in the good old days.
Her own life was fine, if boring. She was doing a bunch of temp gigs, alongside some recently soured graduate classes. She had jumped in with both feet into a degree program in something that now seemed to be closer to torture and mental masturbation than a career. She needed a break. Her fiance still had another year or two of work, until his PhD would be granted. They had met in the hallways and elevators, different departments and different worlds. He was showing signs of stress and other personality changes that made her reconsider a lot of her life choices. It meant being away, which could be deadly or exactly what they needed, she was too sleepy to understand which.
“What else can you offer?”
“You can drive,” he said with a wink, both of them knowing it meant she would sing him through multiple states.
She looked at him and in her sleepy haze, it seemed like it would all work. They would drive forever, stop at greasy spoons, he’d complain, she’d kiss him, they’d sing, they’d argue, they’d love it. And it would break their hearts all over again.
“Let me think about it,” she said as she dragged herself up to bed.
==
Merrily we Roll Along
==
They talked about it a little in bed in the morning. Her personal giant wanted to be back on the road before noon and the deadline kept getting closer.
“I’m sure it’ll be fine. He’s completely safe,” she told him. Although she wasn’t sure if either statement would be true. There was a sense of jealousy she had about her fiance’s relationship with his degree. He was headed to a clear end, and she was certain that if she stopped showing up, her program wouldn’t miss her in the least. In the past few weeks, she had started to skip classes and had felt free for the first time in ages. And couldn’t tell her beloved giant.
He looked at her like a puppy, his long blonde bangs falling over his eyes, reminding her of the posters she had put up in her bedroom as a teenager. He looked just like HIM 30 years earlier, but she hoped that nobody would notice the resemblance. Especially since HER MAN was 6’4” and closer to a Greek statue of Adonis with glasses. As with every gorgeous man that gave her attention, he had a crucial flaw. He was Bipolar. He needed his sleep and routine and a focus. She had seen him fall out of line, and wanted to take care of him. But being together for 2 years, she was starting to test the waters of escape, to see what was healthy for her within the bounds of his requirements. Skipping classes led her to think maybe she should go back into theater or art. Maybe a tourguide, maybe admin work for a museum. She didn’t want to tell him she was ready to leave school, that she didn’t want a PhD, not in this discipline, not at this school. She was lost and hated being his port in the storm. This was an opportunity to shake things up, which she liked. Which he didn’t.
“We’ll leave Sodbusting Behind”
When they wandered back down to the kitchen, coffee made just for them by the Girlfriend, she knew she was still being courted. He had been on a strange macrobiotic diet for most of his life which generally made him cranky about all kinds of foods. Caffeine was something he refused. Alcohol, before he had gone straight, didn’t seem to enter into the health equation. He had been a full fledged alcoholic, but apparently had met this Girlfriend at an AA meeting. Another reason to love her, for him and for all who wished him well. Maybe this woman could take care of him in a way that she never could. Maybe this tour could be everything she had wanted from the last time. They could do it right this time.
“He’s out in the barn,” The Girlfriend said over her coffee. When he was out of sight, she enjoyed caffeine, sugar, cream and what was worse, she did the NY Times Crossword in ink. This woman had spunk, SHE was afraid that she might start falling in love with her too.
The three of them walked out to the barn in back. Out of the corner of her eye, the weeping willow by the pond made a perfect countrytime postcard.
The Girlfriend pulled the door open in a dramatic fashion, the dust clouding in the sunlight.
She revealed him standing in the middle of a giant pile of junk, which ran to the edges of the barn. Just like his car in the old days. He was a sentimentalist, and from the date of the rust from the junk, he came from a family of packrats.
“I can give you the barn!” He said, as if he were giving her the keys to his vintage 1964 MBGHT car.
“For what?”
“For your art! You can use it as a studio! Whenever you want. I’ll clear it out-no really. All this junk belonged to my father and I don’t even want it!”
She looked at him dubiously.
He saw her reaction and got down on one knee.
“No really, I want you on this tour with me. I need your organizational skills. You can be the Tour Manager!! The Company Manager! Whatever suits your resume!!”
“What’s the difference?” her Giant asked.
She looked up and shrugged.
“Either way, I’ll be the one to blame for getting lost and the one who still has to run out and get coffee,”
They all laughed except her.
“I didn’t know you did art,”
“I showed you, the paintings that I have in my apartment,” she said without accusing, holding her disappointment gently, like broken glass.
PT POV:
PT caught the reference that this Beloved Giant, this fiance, didn’t know her as well as she claimed. He wondered why her voice sounded so out of shape. She has grown into a lovely young woman, but her life practice was different from the road he thought he had set her on a decade before. She was fundamentally scared, he knew it. She made the safe choices, even though it was clear to everyone that she wasn’t happy.
“Well, just the dates in the summer, in between semesters. The dates seem to work out,”
The Giant cleared his throat.
“No, really, I think it can work. If something better comes along, I’ll still have my weeks. This is mostly a weekend thing, anyway.”
She heard herself negotiating with his ideals, and all the expectations she had of herself from before. The more words tumbled out, the clearer her future became, this was a step backwards, to her other life. A chance to start again, go back to jail, collect $200 and to even pass go. //Start again at square one.
End: Thank god you agreed. My Girlfriend refuses to take care of the band!!
You’re enough trouble!!
They all laughed, as if this were just another joke from the party.
As if it wasn’t the joining of these two forces, back in league with each other.
The hinge of their lives.
If she had just said no, they could have parted and would have had happy enough lives.
But she had a feeling he wouldn’t have stopped.
