:)
Beautiful Music
THAT 70's SHOW
Jennifer Ryan
08/18/2006
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Another Runner in the Night
I wake with a hell of a start, my heart in my throat and a Tab cola spilled all over the place. The details of the nightmare have faded already; far beyond my grasp, but still affecting me. I stretch for a moment, trying to get motivated. Last night I had a plan, but not a sheet of paper, so I organized it mentally along with a list of tools required for its execution. Today is the first day of the rest of my life, so the saying goes, and the first visit I make today will be the FotoHut.
I'm freshly showered and almost out the door when Red calls my name. I freeze briefly, then turn so he can look me over good. His eyebrows scrunch together and I can tell he's trying hard to figure out where I got a dress shirt and why I'm wearing it. "Steven, did you shave?"
"Uh-huh.
"And comb your hair?"
"Yes."
"And is that cologne?"
"Close, it's some of Mrs. Forman's perfume."
"Well, well," he seems impressed until reality slaps him. "Oh dammit, you're not going to court, are you?"
I smile because I'm happy to announce, "I've got a job interview."
"Job?" He's in a state of shock and repeatedly utters the words in stunned disbelief and complete awe. "Steven. Job."
I laugh a little, uncomfortable not only because I'm wearing brown double knit slacks and a matching tie, but also because I appear to have rendered him stupid. He reaches for his wallet and pulls out a five for gas money, which I refuse, and which makes him smile proudly. We exchange grins and as I near escape, Kitty joins us from the kitchen and catches sight of me.
"Oh, honey," she throws her arms around me, "don't you just look sharp!"
I roll my eyes and smile as she squeezes me and bounces excitedly. "Yeah, I bet you didn't expect to see me awake before eleven a.m., did you?"
"Oh, you're all dressed up like a little business man," she gushes, grabbing my cheeks and tugging them in impossible directions. "Your such a handsome young ..."
"Kitty, for G-d's sake, he's going on a job interview." Red's interjection allows my escape and as I run to my car, I remind myself that this is exactly why I don't like to shower. These people are nuts and they notice things like that immediately.
By the time I hit Western Avenue, Jim Croce is on my radio and I'm secretly thrilled. This song makes me think of Eric and I try to figure a way to bring it up to him one day without it seeming too staged, because I've been through all his weird ass Rush albums and none of those songs fit how I feel about anything ... ever.
I have my own key to the FotoHut because I still help Leo out from time to time, like today. Today I'm helping myself to his top secret emergency stash. I dig into a half empty container of decaffinated coffee - something no one would ever touch - and pull out a plastic bag of joints. I take them all, afraid to leave any behind. Leo's going to find his ass in jail one day, selling right out of the drive in window. Man, do I ever sound responsible. I guess I know what can happen when you live life like you don't appreciate it, and sadly I know it in the worst way. It's not that I don't love the contents of this plastic bag, I do - always have - but for the first time ever, I feel strange about it. Fuck it, man. I think too much.
By the time I breeze through the front door of the Holiday Hotel, I feel like a kid again. The first thing I notice is that it's a lot nicer than I remember, much larger and definitely cleaner than I recall. Since I was seven years old, Edna practically had me living at this hotel and at times we were in and out on a daily basis. There was a span of about three months when we actually did live in one of the rooms, because her boyfriend at the time was the manager. But if she wasn't screwing the manager then it was somebody - anybody - else. If he had pot or pills or liquor, she was there and I was on the pull-out couch watching the tube.
I duck into the bathroom and am impressed it's been cleaned. I was so sure it would still be untouched, since Bobby Darrin took a shit here about five hundred years ago, or at least that's what Edna told me. I'm almost twenty minutes early for my interview, but I can see someone is excited and has decided to join me early.
"Mr. Hyde," he says in a well rehearsed manner as he checks under all the stalls. "Welcome to the Holiday hotel. I'm Mark, the day manager."
I slide off my shades and pull out a monster bag of pot. "Hi Mark, I'm your new best friend."
He laughs and hugs me, clapping me hard on the back. "Damn, it's been too long. I heard Edna took off."
"Yeah, she couldn't hack holding down a job, you know. It was beneath her." I remind myself that Mark does indeed know. Though he was only a high school boy when I met him, I've no doubt he put it to my mother repeatedly and in a variety of ways and strange places. She was more than any seventeen year old boy could ever handle and probably broke his heart into a million little pieces that didn't heal for a long, long while.
Though none of her behavior was my fault, I've lived my life feeling the same sting, because she didn't have to tell all those people that she loved them. It was always a game and she strung everyone along, even little old me.
"Oh hell yeah, I remember. So what do you think of the old place?"
I smile, "It has been cleaned!"
"We remodeled in '73. Too much factory money leaving the city. Owners decided that nobody should have to drive forty-five minutes to Kenosha just to eat french food and go dancing. Besides, the drugs were getting out of control, too much fighting, too many cops hanging around. Did you see the landscaping? My cousin Cliff helped with it, it's un-fucking-believable."
"Yeah, it's great." I toss him the bag of joints, which indicates it's time to get this job interview started. "So, this job comes with a free room?"
"I can't always guarantee the room - we all share it. Plus my buddy Rufus nails his sister-in-law there, if another room isn't available. He pays us in concert tickets, cause he gets like, twenty or so every time a big act hits Kenosha. Uses 'em to pay off debts or get laid. I can snag you a couple sets in trade for services rendered." He seems thoughtful for a moment and asks if I'm sure I want to be a waiter. "There must be more interesting jobs for a guy your age."
"Yeah well, I have a friend now, you know." I'm surprised to be blushing to such a furious degree and scuff the tile with my shoe. "I need to save up some money so we can get our own pad or something." He raises an eyebrow in astonishment and chuckles at me.
"Man, are you kiddin'?" He says it with a laugh, with light-hearted understanding, not the angry judgement I'm afraid lurks around every corner. "I never would have guessed, I mean, Edna's kid - boy she must have fucked up your mind something awful." He puts an arm around me and I find that I'm laughing in relief. "You tell your little friend you guys can start next Wednesday. Come on, as long as your here, let me get Roy, the kitchen manager. We'll show you the room we were talking about. We usually have our smoke breaks there."
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When your trying to be so good
I feel real good and real high - probably because Mark and Roy got me real good and high. It's like all the great things I never thought possible are beginning to fall into line. I go straight to the basement so I can tell Eric all about my big plans. He's going to be so excited; this is probably the most righteous thing that's happened to either of us in quite awhile.
In preparation for our celebration party, I stopped at the convenience store and picked up some rubbers, a bag of iced animal cookies and a six pack of Coors. I'm surprised to find Eric, Kelso, Fez and Leo having a circle without me. Each of them turn, whistling and laughing at my dress attire. Eric smiles the biggest and laughs the loudest as Fez tells me I'm just in time. He turns up the radio and Bob Dylan calls to each of us.
Leo takes his drag first and sings his part. "Well, they'll stone you when you're trying to be so good."
He passes it to Eric, who is higher than I've ever seen him, and looks like he's out of his fucking mind. "They'll stone you just like they said they would."
Fez skips his drag like usual, but says his line with a slurred accent that is hilariously more pronounced than usual. "Then they will stone you when you are trying to go home."
He passes the cigarette to Kelso, who is laughing so loud and maniacally that it unnerves me a little more than it probably should. Since he can't seem to stop, I take the joint out of his hand, have a quick drag,and sing for him. "They'll stone you when you're there all alone."
The five of us shout in unison, "But I would not feel so all alone, EVERYBODY MUST GET STONED!"
I look up the stairs, half expecting Red to yell. His car is in the driveway; oh wait, they must be having sex. They do that in the middle of the day when they don't think there are kids in the house. Heh. Man, if they only knew.
We stay in the circle and talk a long while, taking down an entire bag of salty potato chips, a box of popsicles, a jar of tiny sweet pickles and a loaf of wonder bread, all in what seems like a matter of minutes. Fez and Kelso scorf down my beer and animal cookies so fast that I don't realize it's happened until it's too late.
I think Kelso and Eric are worse off than I've ever seen them - red eyed and mad as hatters. They're really fucked up and I think about how easily one of them could be hurt. Fez just has the usual contact buzz and Leo's ever the same, and then I realize - I gave Mark all of Leo's stash.
"Leo, did you bring the pot?"
"Oh yeah, man. I must have gone through the stuff I kept at the hut. I got this from the Bertrand brothers."
I look at Eric and Kelso and see what it's done to them. They couldn't even walk down the street in this condition; anything could happen. This isn't the shit we usually smoke, it's patented Bertrand brothers hardcore smoke; no doubt laced with angel dust. "Is this the stuff you use all the time, Leo? What were you thinking! I can't believe you gave this to them?"
"Lighten up, Mr. Establishment. I've been using this stuff forever and it's perfectly safe in moderation."
"Yeah, Mr. Est - estab- estabilament, " Kelso laughs loud and long; beyond stoned.
Suddenly I'm a little faint. This is all my fault. Leo is my friend; I brought him here. Six years ago, I brought Edna's pot here. I brought drugs into this house. We were little kids and thought it was funny, even though it was pathetically weak crap that couldn't get anyone off terra-firma. At least not anyone but children. I never realized and now it's like a slap in the face to know that I'm no better than Edna or Bud. I'm no better than any of those bastards who used to stick it to my mother while I was locked in the bathroom or left outside.
Today was supposed to be a good day; the best day, our day. I pull the sunglasses out of my collar and slide them on because I'm afraid my eyes are starting to water. But I won't let myself cry, because it's not something I can ever do. Even if I am guilty. Even if I'm a monster.
"Dust is never safe, Leo, even in moderation," I say, but no one can hear me. No one notices my quiet freaking out, which is likely for the best. I need to cool off before a fight starts, even though I've only myself at whom to be pissed. I offer Fez my car keys if he promises that Leo will get home safely and he accepts, leaving Kelso and Eric in my charge. Neither of them realize they've gone, that it's just the three of us now. They're laughing and talking and living in a world isolated from reality.
I sit back and watch them, lighting a cigarette, something I almost never do anymore and certainly never do in the house. They are eighteen years old; I was six. I never thought much about it before but there are about a million ways a six year old can buy the farm while his mother's getting high with her boyfriend. He could fall and hit his head. He could drown. He could get hit by a car. He could drink poison. The neighbors German Shepherd could eat him. He could choke to death on a piece of candy, or fall down a hole, or ... I don't know. I run my free hand through my hair and think about the fact that all those same situations could happen to an eighteen year old just as easily.
While I'm lost in thought, Kelso crawls across the floor on his hands and knees and kneels next to me like a child. "Is it true?"
"Is what true?"
"Are you in love with Eric?" He laughs, "Is it looooove?"
"Who the hell wants to know?"
Kelso becomes wide eyed and yells loud enough for the neighbors to hear. "Oh my G-d, Eric, Hyde doesn't recognize me. I think he's stoned!" They both laugh hysterically and I roll my eyes. He then proceeds to inform me that Eric wants a pizza and if I truly love either of them, I'll get four pies with everything but olives. Eric sits on the floor beside him and nods happily.
The house shakes from the rumble of distant thunder and we focus our attention on the half open door, waiting for the inevitable rain to fall. I close my eyes and filter out their wild laughing to hear Elton John on the radio. Mercy I'm a criminal. Jesus, I'm the one. I light another cigarette, thinking to myself that I couldn't agree more.
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to be continued
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For those illegally downloading the soundtrack
:) Blinded by The Light by Bruce Springsteen
:) I'll have to say I love you in a Song by Jim Croce
:) Rainy Day Women by Bob Dylan
:) Rotten Peaches by Elton John