:)
Beautiful Music
THAT 70's SHOW
by Jennifer Ryan
01/06/07
:)
Thanksgiving
The problem with this thing is that I hadn't prepared for every contingency. I was raised to believe liquor, weed and Kentucky Fried Chicken are the holy trinity of getting laid. I saw my parents use that maneuver a thousand times - on each other, on neighbors and on strangers they drug home from the bar. It never failed to produce the desired result for them and they were all losers. Of course, these people were heavy into that kind of scene, not like Eric, whose entire body is like a rigid steel coil, terrified and tense.
So I've put my own spin on the love thing and this time I'm armed with some favorite music cassettes and a cowboy hat. Let's see him get out of this one. I'm ready to be smooth this time - no more blundering Laurel and Hardy like antics, no zany mishaps or preteen fumbling. I'm good time Steven, available for anything, no matter how ludicrous or potentially messy. No stress, no worries and no uncertain, hurt little boy feelings. I want to have more sex than anybody can possibly handle at five in the morning.
My pants land in a crumpled heap in the corner and I fumble with my tapes, undecided between Boston, Journey or the traditional Zeppelin. My mind wonders briefly to Jackie - so many times she stood in this exact spot and flipped her stupid ABBA tape what seemed like endlessly. It's a wonder either of us ever had an orgasm the way she would jump from under me and fly across the room to play it again. Truth be told, I learned to tolerate ABBA back then, but as far as make out music, they can be nerve jangling. I don't want to think about Jackie or how stupid I was to ever try to please her. I don't want to think about how stupid she made me feel about myself, either, or I'll just aggravate myself limp.
Robert Plant watches from the web high above my cot and I imagine he waits as excitedly as I. Once I'm through with Eric, he'll be the creatures' easy prey. I tip my hat to him and he scurries away, busying himself with important spider stuff.
The smell of a slow cooking turkey fills the whole house, as does apple and morning coffee, which I take to mean Red is awake, too. I picture him reading the paper while Kitty cooks, keeping her company through her work day the way he does each morning when she makes breakfast. They talk about married stuff, like money and ungrateful children, and he reads her bits of news and comics. When I think of them I smile, in happy wonder that a mother and father can love and be best friends.
That's the way Eric and I will be forever; the very best of friends. I'll tell him about Beetle Bailey's latest boneheaded stunt while he pours me a bowl of sugar flakes. We'll laugh and talk awhile and then I'll drive off to where ever it is I work, looking fine in a polished light blue '67 mustang. The years will pass and we'll be just as happy with each other, just like his parents are now. We'll never be like Bud and Edna, two people desperate to drown each other, angry with hurt and struggling to pull as many innocent bystanders down with them as possible.
The shuffling of boxes alerts me to the presence of my idiot beloved. I stalk him silently, sliding open the door just enough to pull him inside. He's got that what the hell look he's had on his face since the day we met, the one I'll enjoy erasing in myriad of twisted ways. I push him down on the cot and the first to go are those cheap, sueded three stripe Adidas gym shoes that have always pissed me off. I toss them gently to the floor and straddle him, letting him laugh while I remove my shirt. I put on the cowboy hat and smile, knowing the sight of me in it and my fruit of the looms may be too much to take. He's laughing and trying so hard to contain it that a single tear slips down his cheek. As I kiss it away, his arms go around me and I pull him up so he's sitting on my lap.
"I came down because Laurie will be here any minute. This could be our last chance for a bitch-free circle for a week."
Laurie, I almost forgot. When I woke up this morning to the smell of Thanksgiving dinner, I remember thinking everything was just to good to be true. Why do family holidays have to be ruined by family? I run my hands up his back and pull off his shirt. "I'd rather have your sister disturb the circle than walk in on this."
He smiles down at me, barely composed. "So I've got ask, what's the deal with the hat?"
"It's making you hot, isn't it?" I shove my hand down the front of his jeans, pulling apart the snap and zipper with one tug. "I was thinking that maybe it was time I lassoed you."
I lay him down and pull his pants off inside out and he tells me that's the lamest thing anyone has ever said to him - ever. Next I peel away long red-banded tube socks and pause when I realize I forgot to put a cassette tape in the player. Eric catches me looking and grabs my face, redirecting my attention to the fact that his legs are finally wrapped around my waist. I lay my cowboy hat aside and tell him it would have been Bad Company I played for him.
He smiles with such trust and sings to me, ... baby, if I think about you ... I think about loooooove.
I kiss him soft and slow, and tell him that's the lamest thing anyone has ever said to me - ever. Every muscle tenses and I take a deep breath. Before I bombard him with the Steven Hyde experience, I take in one last aerial view of his scrawny body and chuckle to myself. I can't believe such a floppy-haired, skinny weed could be the source of the unconditional love I've sought my entire life. I soak in the impossible intensity of it all, surprised by its slow burn.
We nip every inch of each other, wiggling and laughing, together and happy. My hard won self-control unravels and I struggle to adjust to the strangeness of it all. He yips and grabs my erection to make sure I can't direct it anywhere fun, stroking me until the joy of passion flows through heated blood and stuns me; amazes me. So we aren't a couple of psychotic hellcats in the sack, but we have something else of a great deal more importance - real intimacy.
2120 So. Michigan Avenue
"Fez, man; this is the single coolest thing that's ever happened to me in my whole life. This is way better than the great nacho cheese incident of '75. It's even better than the time Leon Miller got his dick caught in that long neck bottle of root beer. And that was funny. I mean damn funny. I never thought anything would top that and this totally tops it."
We drop the old couch in the middle of the floor and stand back to take it in. It looks much better in our new pad than it did on my brother Randy's front porch. It still smells like dog really bad, since it was used for their bed, and it probably has a lot of fleas, but without a dog around I'm sure the fleas will just starve and die. Something bites at my neck and I smack the spot a few times. Strange.
"I cannot believe we have this great apartment that is all ours. Now all we are needing is slutty women."
I tell Fez to give me a five. If it weren't Thanksgiving, this apartment would be filled with sluts. Like, five or six of them in bikinis. And they'd want us bad man, because they'd know all about how we have this great apartment. He agrees and says in his country, the best sluts are found at Mass, something I don't think we have in America. But could you imagine if we did!
"Hey, we could go to Forman's this afternoon. Laurie's going to be there and I think we both know she'll do it with anybody if she's bored enough."
"I don't ever want to do it with her again," pouts Fez. "She is the slut who broke my heart into itty bitty pieces."
He doesn't add the part where she enjoyed it, absolutely delighted in it with a maniacal sneer and bubblegum pink lip gloss. There's nothing I can say to comfort him that wouldn't sound fruity or wrong, so I jump up from the couch and yell, "Well, I'm going!"
He chases me to the shower, as if soaping off the dog smell will turn her on. I've done it with Laurie Forman in places that smell worse that this apartment and our clothes after spending time at my brothers' house. We wins the race, so I leave him to shower while I rifle through all my ass-hugging jeans. If I play my cards right, this could work out perfectly. One or both of us can nail Laurie and I can ask Mrs. Forman for a can of disinfecting spray. Not for Laurie, for the couch.
Bad Company
It's not yet eleven am and already I've had a full day. It occurs to me that if I'd had a little bit of patience that Eric and I could have had our first time on the coats. Crap, that would have been a nice memory. I stretch and fold my arm behind my head, watching Robert Plant the spider lower himself on a silken thread. He swings his tiny body to the window and disappears through a crack in the sill. Perhaps our demonstration this morning has inspired him to get some freaky lovin' of his own or maybe he packed everything he owns into a tiny piece of silk tied to the end of a stick and he's out of here. It's of no matter, I suppose, as his life is his own.
After Eric's nap, I'm thinking we should take a shower together. In a few hours people will be arriving and I just think it would be a good idea if we weren't sweaty and unkempt. I throw my clothes back on and start planning the day. I think I'll wear my newest Pink Floyd t-shirt later on and maybe double condition my hair. I dig for clean socks and notice in the mirror that a bleary-eyed Eric is watching me. All I can think to say is, "I told you it would be fun."
He smiles at me goofy and I reciprocate, our attention broken when the outside door slams. Eric dresses quickly and I investigate, expecting to find Kelso, Fez and Leo waiting on the couch. I find no one and check the door - I know I heard it - and it's unlocked.
Deciding they must be looking for us upstairs, I turn but don't get two steps before the wind is knocked out of me. Eric's startled yelp gives rise to the invader's wild giggling and I turn to see Donna and Jackie laughing their asses off, thrilled to have scared us.
Donna tosses her purse on the table and throws herself back on the couch. "You should have seen your faces." Her smile is wide and I notice how much makeup she is wearing, which is a lot more than I've ever seen on her. So much that it looks badly unnatural and her arms are across the back of the couch like she's waiting for the nail polish to dry. Poor Donna, living with Jackie has fried her brain but good.
Jackie sits beside her and tells me it's holiday break and they're all ours for a week. When I ask what that means, Jackie beams and states proudly, "That's right Steven. I've decided to give you another chance."
I look at Eric with the same uncertainty and confusion he mirrors back. My horoscope said expect the unexpected and it was right. I didn't expect this - not any time soon or, actually, anytime ever. Donna takes Eric's hand and leads him to the kitchen, telling him that Jackie and I want to be alone.
As I watch them disappear behind the door, I wonder what he'll do, as we never really prepared for this situation. I kick on the tube and take my favorite chair, hiding behind my sunglasses while I try to figure out what to say. I know she thinks I'm doing some of my infamous zen bullshit. The glasses go on and she goes off, that's always been the drill. Just thinking about that reminds me why it never worked out for us. She was always so demanding and disappointed, so unable to be pleased. She never seemed to get the fact that I'm just a kid, too; only fourteen months older than she.
I use these glasses to buy myself time; time to figure out what to say or do and how to express it in a way that won't cause her to implode. At this moment, I can think of nothing. "So how's your fat aunt Lois?"
"Fine. And not that you asked, but Chicago is great."
I smile and say great. It's really, really great, because - it just really is. She looks at me and I can tell I've done it. She's come here excited and with at least six months worth of crap to tell me, including how she has every thing in life at her command but her dream man. She looks so beautiful, staring at me, waiting for me to say words that she doesn't know will never come. She's moved to the edge of her seat, so expectant, as if I'll throw myself to the floor and vow to follow her home. I try to move my mouth, but my bottom lip quivers and all I can expel is air.
At one time, I loved her as much as I felt capable of loving another person. I know she has to be told the truth, in terms that aren't uncertain. After every thing we've been through and how much we have hurt each other over the years, damn it, I care about her feelings. She's been talking to me and I haven't heard a word.
"I said I work part-time at the aquarium, Steven. So far all my advanced classes this year will apply to the university and I'll only be one semester behind Donna."
"That's really ..."
"Yeah, great - I know. That's all you've said to me since I got here. Don't you know any other words?"
"Well, Eric and I ... work full time at the Holiday hotel. And ... we ..." I stumble repeatedly, not sure how to say it. I know I'm screwed when she kneels before me and looks at me with all the tenderness and sincerity I'd hoped to see in her eyes when we were together.
"I know I've been unfair to you, Steven. I've learned so much in Chicago - grown a lot and changed. I'm not even a cheerleader anymore. Let's forget all the bad things that happened and that we said. I'm ready for us to ..."
Before she can finish the sentence, the door flys open and angry footsteps shake every stair. Donna is crying hard. She grabs Jackie's arm and jerks her up and away from me, as if the proximity would poison her. "We're going home, Jackie!" Eric stands at the stairs with his hand over the red spot on his cheek, staring ahead like he just doesn't believe it. Of course, he would never say anything, never complain - I suppose he even thinks he deserves it for some warped reason. I used to think it was hilarious when Donna smacked him around, but this pisses me off. Before I can give her hell about it, she slaps me so hard my glasses fall to the floor.
"Let go of me you crazy lumberjack!" Jackie twists free and glares at her, but Donna takes her by the hand and tells her they're going home NOW. Eric begs her to wait and she turns, still crying, and says that we can both go to hell. Well, that whole scene went well, I think. The both of us staring glassy-eyed at the door like retards only makes the experience more vivid.
The 360
Reginald Forman: Angry Dad
You don't know what pissed is until you've got a couple of drunken queers living in your basement. I should have sent Eric's ass to military school on his fifth birthday, which was quite possibly his turning point. I yelled at Marty for babying Eric, terrified that some of Marty's fairy dust might shake off and hit my son. I told Eric to go play with Donna and the next thing I know, I found him in the bathroom trying to flush her barbie down the john. I was just about to laugh when his mother walked in and reprimanded him. He apologized profusely to the stupid doll and kissed its soggy head. The minute Kitty walked away I took her from him and showed him the right way to treat a lady doll. I helped him put on her pretty flower dress and we placed her on the sink to dry. I took his hand and led him down the stairs, anxious to give him my present. In that fateful moment, I thrust a GI Joe soldier in his hand. I know damn well that act, which seemed harmless at the time and took less than a minute, must have been the defining moment that snapped him. G-d help me, I taught him to play with boys!
The 360
Jackie Burkhardt: Jilted Lover
I can't talk right now. Donna throws herself across the bed and is crying so hard that her eyes are going to be all bloodshot and gross. This is not happening. Oh my G-d, this is just like what happened to Diana Seiberling on All My Tomorrows and she became a major crazy bitch and got frown lines.
I loved Steven. I was going to take him home with me and we were going to get married one day. The nursery was going to be lavender with little plush unicorns everywhere. It's not fair! He never - he never really loved me at all. We did it a lot because we both like doing it, but everything - EVERY SINGLE WORD he ever said to me was a lie. What's wrong with me? Why does everybody leave?
The 360
Donna Pinciotti: High School Sweetheart
I can't help but wonder how long this has been going on behind my back. When I refused Eric's ring, did he give it to Hyde? The both of them have been laughing at me, maybe for years. I just don't understand how I could not know.
Everything was going to be so perfect. Jackie and I were going to ask Eric and Hyde to split an apartment with us in Chicago and it was going to be like old times, like nothing ever changed. Like I never met that asshole Todd ... as if he never gave me a black eye.
I couldn't wait to get here - now I can't wait to go back. My world has revolved around Eric's for so long that I don't think I'll get over this. Everyone I get close to hurts me. Todd and Eric and Hyde ... three more names added to the succession of people who've betrayed and humiliated me.
The 360
Burton Leonard Wyrick: Stoned as fuck (Leo, man)
I had no idea there was going to be entertainment, man. I just stopped by to smoke a little pot and ask Hyde who the guy in the hat is from those movies because it's been bothering me all week. Actually, I have some pot at home but my room mate, Benny, is crowding me out with his bullshit, man. I asked him to keep the splashing to a minimum; I asked him a lot of things nicely but he doesn't dignify anything that comes out of my mouth with a response. I have got to get a new pad, man. I am not good with heavy situations.
The 360
Laurie Forman: Wildly Entertained
I had no sooner walked through the front door when I saw Donna beating the living hell out of my idiot brother. What I'm saying is I arrived just in time. So he finally stopped his whining and moved on, so what did she expect? Not that I'm sorry she's mad because ... I'm just not. I mean, the two of them are a never ending drama with a capital WHO CARES. I can't wait to find out who he cheated with - Jerry and I didn't just drive 250 miles for a turkey dinner.
The 360
Eric David Forman: The Dreams We Had
Things were not supposed to happen this way. She moved on, she left - in the back of my mind I was sure she would think it was cute or something. At least I hoped that she wouldn't say I hate you, Eric and then slap me, which is exactly what she did. I never thought she'd call me sick. My best friend, practically since we were in the embryonic stage, hates me. It's not grief I feel, it's shock and disbelief.
Hyde doesn't know what to say and I know he's angry, I just hope not at me. For a second I think he's going to frog me, but he slips his arm around me and smiles, asking if I think they're mad at us. I think I shouldn't have told Donna like I did. I wanted to be out with it and quick. I had to be direct; I could tell she wanted me to kiss her the minute we got to the kitchen. Ignoring that would have caused even more trouble and if I'd have waited too long then the house would be full of people circling to throw in their two cents.
I thought my dad finding out would be the worst thing ever, because I was sure he would disown me. I didn't think he would be mad for a few days, like when I scratched the car. I thought he would do something devastating and permanent, something I couldn't live with. I imagined he would say to me all the things Donna just did. I guess I don't know the people in my life so well.
The phone rings and I know it's Mr. Pinciotti because my dad stomps out the door, yelling that we better not have used the b word to the girls. Not long later I hear my car sputtering in the driveway like it does when you don't turn the key just right. Dammit, Red doesn't have any right to take my car! I didn't do anything wrong. I run to the door and see Donna behind the wheel. I stand in front of her with my hands on the hood and tell her to get out, but she doesn't listen. Never has listened to me, so why would she start now. I jump in the passenger side before she can lean over to lock the door and she peels out of the drive before my door is closed completely.
Things will be alright; I know they will. This is Donna I'm with and she's pissed, an emotion she does so good since I've given her years of steady practice. She's plenty mad but she'd never hurt us; she just needs to slow down the car a little. The Cruiser just wasn't designed to go faster than thirty five miles per hour. She'll burn off her anger after she screams at me for a while, tells me it's all my fault she's unhappy and blames me for not waiting for her. I turn the radio on low and wait for the avalanche to bury me, but she punishes me with thick and uncomfortable silence instead. I change the station and find a song I like, fiddling in an exaggerated way to demand her attention, but she won't give it. The song changes to a Styx ballad, which is Donna's all time big favorite song in the history of the world, one she used to sing in the shower, to her cat and in bed with me. I reach to change the station and she barks a hateful "Stop!", which I do immediately. I fold my hands in my lap and sigh, sure she's working herself up for an explosion. Instead she sings to herself in a sad whisper, "I remember childhood friends and the dreams we had."
Her tears begin a slow slide down red irritated skin, made worse when she swipes at it constantly with her shirt sleeve. It hurts me to see her so sad, but I tell her, because I feel it's important that she know she was the one to sail away first.
"That's crap, Eric. I can't give up school and a future and you know that."
"I never wanted you to feel like you had to settle on a substandard life with me."
She bangs the steering wheel with her fist hard. "That's not what I meant!"
"You knew when you left that I couldn't follow you, Donna." I say it as softly and non accusator as I can. "It hurt bad when we said goodbye and I didn't want to believe it, but I knew it was for good this time. I'm surprised you didn't come home with a boyfriend. By this time next year, maybe you'll even be married to someone."
She's quiet and her look is purely stunned, from wide hurting eyes to quivering lips. "Donna, you moved on when you left here. Don't be mad at me for building a new life."
"How long?" She nails me between the eyes with sudden venom. "How long have you and Hyde - you know. How long behind my back?"
"Hyde and I never did anything when I was with you. We never talked about it or thought about it. We didn't do anything wrong."
"I didn't ask what you did; I know what you're doing. I asked how long?"
"A few months after you left, we kind of got together."
"Kind of?" she screams, then mumbles under her breath so I can barely hear, "What sort of stupid thing is that to say."
"It's true."
"Was I gone long, Eric? Before you two ... are you in love or is this just physical?"
"Donna," I don't know what to say or how to say it. Hyde finds song lyrics to express something he's got anxiety about, but I'm not quick like he. I need time to mull over my zingers before I spring them on an unwitting victim. "Hyde and I ... are a family. We're not just together, we're ... I don't know how to explain it."
She decides it can't be very serious, which cuts me deeply because what does she know about it other than it doesn't involve her. I cringe that I even thought that; I don't want Donna to hurt. I obviously mistook the depth of her emotion in regards to me. Months of lying in my bed like a zombie waiting for the phone to ring must have twisted my perception. All the time I spent praying that she would show up and say she was all wrong to leave must have distorted reality in a big way. I bite back hard on my tongue, afraid to make this situation any worse than it is, because I'm just not sure I can imagine worse.
"You don't have anything to say?"
I clear my throat. "He values me. I'm special to him. He loves only me and I'm more than good enough, because he tells me all the time. We're not like you, Donna."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"Hyde doesn't need more than me. He's not using me as a placeholder while he searches for something or someone better. He wants everything that comes to come to us together. He doesn't make me feel settled for."
She hits the brake hard and we stop with a violent and sudden jerk, each thrown slightly forward. She braces herself on the steering wheel, I grab hold of the dash and everything stops. She looks at me and she's stopped crying, stopped yelling, stopped glaring; she's even holding her breath. I beg her to tell me why she's so angry. It was her decision to go and mine to stay. There was no huge blowout like Hyde had with Jackie. Donna said bye; she'd see me around, and didn't call, write or visit for over six months. I ask how she can be so unfair, because I don't understand what's really going on here.
The overwhelming sense of sadness that marks her face breaks my heart. She says, a little sarcastically, that the last thing she wants to be is unfair to anyone. Then she turns the car around to take us home, but passes our block like she just doesn't know what to do. It begins to snow large, soft flakes and we just drive, not saying a hell of a lot but not killing each other.
:)
to be continued
:)
For those illegally downloading the soundtrack
* Come Sail Away by Styx
* Feel Like Making Love by Bad Company