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Beautiful Music
THAT 70's SHOW
by Jennifer Ryan
11/12/06

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Any black square

Every sound in the house is extinguished by rainfall and has been for slow moving hours. Water sticks to the window in little drops whose depressingly short lives end before me when knocked loose by another.

Summer was unusually cold this year and now the fall is just plain odd. It's November now and instead of the ice and snow characteristic of our geography, we are plagued with a week of violent and freezing thunderstorms. It's done nothing for the mood around here, as my idiot beloved and I have been home bound due to the heavy flooding and never ending rain. Red, uncomfortable with the ever present level of tension, swam to work and suggested we do the same. It's not so easy as it sounds, as my partner in crime is afraid not only of water, but of anything that makes a plunking sound.

I don't think that will be an issue much longer, because I firmly believe the two of us won't be living here come Christmas. His mother is unfailingly vigilant; I mean insanely desperate that we are never unsupervised so that we aren't exploring each others naked bodies in a way compatible with burning in hell. She's spoken with Pastor Dave for hours on several occasions and we did, too. The last time he "counseled" us I super glued his ass to his chair and pulled the phone cord from the wall. That was six days ago and I've not heard from him since. Maybe no one has; maybe he's still there waiting. The thought makes me smile, because I really enjoy being a dick.

Mrs. Forman makes peanut butter cookies with little chocolate candies that are perfectly centered. She lays them on a large plate in a neat and orderly circle and stacks a second layer. Her attention is focused on making a beautiful presentation, a distraction from what she views as an unhappy reality. She doesn't want to think about me or about Eric or what we've done to destroy their happy pedestrian family life. I know she is explosively angry and this is what she calls healthy avoidance - her way of taking a deep breath and pretending everything is going to somehow be alright one day, as if by magic.

Never in all my life could I have imagined she, the eternal peace keeper, would be the one to condemn us. The hard ass in my heart says to take Eric and run far, to erase her from my memory and carry on with my every day as if nothing is wrong. The orphan says no matter how far I go, I'll always be haunted by her reproval. And Eric said it himself; he doesn't want his parents to be alone. Since they found out about us, it's as if the four of us exist in isolated corners of the universe. Red's sad resignation of our relationship was an unbelievable shock, but Kitty's rejection is devastating and don't know that any of us can survive it. No one is sure exactly what to say or how to feel - no one except Kitty - and it hangs over every action like a dark cloud. When we join her in the kitchen, she greets us in her usual anxious fashion.

"Well," she smiles uncomfortably, "if it isn't two little boys I won't see in Heaven." She breathes a laugh then begin to cry, so uncomfortable with us that she leaves the room. I lay the giant platter of cookies before my sweetheart and we pick at them, not knowing what to do with ourselves anymore.

Eric looks to me with sad eyes and softly says, "I plan on going to Heaven. What about you?"

I assure him with a loving smile, "I'll follow wherever you lead." After I chew up my cookie, I add that I hope to one day be buried directly on top of him. "You know, this chocolate candy has given me a great idea about how to get your mouth on my penis. I really think it's going to work, too."

"I don't care if you spray whipped cream all over your wiener, I'm not licking it, sucking it, yanking on it or letting you insert it into any part of my body."

I tell him confidently, "You'll change your mind one day. I've got a plan."

"Is this a concrete plan or one of those I've got plans on making plans kind of things?"

"It's a mix between both. Don't worry, you'll be surprised."

"That's what I'm afraid of."

He looks down and away, rolling a cookie between his fingers until it is soft, scattered crumbs. "She might never get over this." I know well that he's right. I fully expected his dad to kill us before Kitty could render an opinion; never once considering she wouldn't be our shelter. "Hyde, what are we going to do?"

How do I tell him that I don't really know? I'm willing to be as flexible as I can swallow if there is a chance I can help him preserve a relationship with his parents. I take his hand in mine and lick cookie off his fingers, stuck for a way to express what I am feeling, so I sing, "Move me on to any black square, use me any time you want ... " His tender smile causes my heart to swell and I pull him on to my lap so he's looking down at me and continue. "... just remember that the goal ... is for us all to capture all we want."

We kiss for just a moment, breaking apart when Red comes through the kitchen door and yells that we've blinded him. He covers his eyes, telling us good night and to go somewhere without windows. My idiot sweetheart laughs and hugs me. I send him to his room with instructions to toss some stuff in a bag. If the roads are at all passable, we're going to the Hotel California.

I take the basement stairs quietly and find Mrs. Forman pulling laundry from the dryer. After a deep breath and silent seconds, I clear my throat to draw her attention, finding it sad that I have to do so. For as long as I can remember she attended to all us kids with a cat-like state of readiness. Do you want a snack, sweetheart? Was today a good day? Aren't you precious in that little outfit? Don't you want to watch the Donnie and Marie show with me? There were times she'd chase us from room to room and throughout the yard, begging to mother and please us.

As we grew older, she didn't stop; not until now. I know that she does love us still and that this situation has been hard on her especially. But I'm more afraid that if one side doesn't work toward resolution that this entire family will fly apart like a shattering glass and it will have been my doing. I don't want Eric and Kitty to end up like me and Edna. I beat the hell out of myself to make that situation work and it got me nothing and nowhere, but I'd sooner drive a blade through my heart than be the cause of an irreparable rift in this family. My greatest fear is that if I can not do something to fix this situation, if I fail again, that I will have to leave. Please, G-d, don't make me leave.

She finally acknowledges me and I'm struck for words. I've no song lyrics to cover this and no anger to cover myself. "I just came down to get my letters to President Carter."

She's mildly disgusted and tosses down a freshly matched pair of tube socks in an exaggerated manner. "Honey, you've got to leave the poor man be. He has enough problems with inflation and world peace."

"I only write once a week now." I raise my hand like a boyscout and promise. She smiles and ends the conversation, so I tell her that Eric and I are leaving. She drops the socks like they're on fire and her entire body stills, save her eyes which she scrunches closed as if in pain. "It's best," I concentrate hard on the floor. "I can't have you hating me and hurting him."

She turns and acts as if I am ridiculous, "I love you both and you are not going anywhere." She balances the laundry basket on her hip and walks to the stairs. "Really, Steven, what did you think you would accomplish gluing Pastor Dave to his chair? Do you know how embarrassed he was to have to holler out the window, Help, I need someone to bring me a pair of pants?"

I burst into laughter and stifle it quickly, trying to preserve the seriousness of the conversation I was pressing until she changed the subject. I fold my arms across my chest, like I do when I'm angry or insecure and tell her that he asked for it. "Next week is Thanksgiving. If you want us here, we can be reached at the hotel."

"If you don't want to talk to Pastor Dave then I'll make you an appointment with Dr. Ryan. She is a very nice lady psychologist from the hospital and ..."

"I'm telling you right now, as honestly as I can, that if you insist on sending us to see a psychologist, we will go. But so that you don't frustrate yourself by wasting time and money, I will consider it nothing more than marriage counseling."

"Honey," she gestures toward the couch, "sit down for a minute and listen to me."

"No." I take her by the arms and lead her gently. "You sit down, because I need you to hear what I'm saying." To my relief she sits quietly, looking up to me and surely wondering what I could possibly have to say. "I love you. I love you more than I have ever loved my own mother ... and up until this I was sure you would be the only woman who loved me for the rest of my life."

"Steven, I do."

"If you really mean that, then stop trying to break Eric and me apart by shaming and humiliating us. I know you think I'm trying to destroy your family, that I'm ... corrupting your baby and that you wish you'd never brought me here."

"No, Steven, I'm not sorry ..."

"Good." My words become louder, progressively, because I think I'm about to break down and I'm trying real hard to cover for it. "Because he told me he loves me just as much as I love him. We are unbreakable. I would die before I let someone hurt him, even you. And I don't want to die, but I will, before I let his own mother turn on him." It is at this point a few tears escape as she pulls me down next to her so she can smother me and cover my forehead with smooches. "This is not a psychiatric problem for you to treat. No one is going to burn in hell for this, do you understand me? "

She holds me close and tight, rocking me and repeating, "I love you. we'll work on it. We'll work on it."

I wipe my eyes and stand so I can kiss her good bye. "I'm taking Eric to the hotel for a few days; give everybody some time. This will be a good thing." I toss some of the clean laundry into my pillow case and she smiles up at me. I promise her we will come back for Thanksgiving, "and after we leave, let Red know I took his beer."

She watches me climb the stairs and I begin to feel hopeful as I sing to myself ...any black square. I join Eric in the kitchen and catch him eating dry cereal from the box, which I take it from him. I throw my arm around his shoulder and kiss his cheek. "Come on, we're gonna go eat french food. Just you and me, baby."

He smiles and asks if this is part of my diabolical plan to get him near my wiener. I slide on my shades and tell him that it is step one. The goal is for us all to capture all we want

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to be continued

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For those illegally downloading the soundtrack

* All Good People by Yes