My Friend Leonard Page 14
We rent movies.
Order pizza.
Hold hands as we walk.
Stay up late watch the sun rise.
Sleep through the afternoon.
See Danny, Kevin. They are both amused by what is happening between us. Kevin says it’s just like the movies I say what movie he laughs, says Beauty and the Beast.
I don’t work. I don’t know why I’m not being called, don’t know why I haven’t had to go anywhere.
I make Heather laugh, once, twice, three or four times my sparkling wit starts to win her over. We both know Brooke could do better than me, but Heather starts to believe that maybe I’m not so bad.
We have another dinner with Ned. I know he likes sports I try to engage him. We talk about baseball, basketball, football. He loves the Chicago teams I know enough to carry on the conversation. At the end of the night, while I’m in the bathroom, he tells Brooke that maybe he was wrong about me. Later, when Brooke tells me, I say that I am happy he said it, because if he hadn’t, despite your objections, I was going to kick his ass. She laughs at me.
I start to stay with her every night.
I go home in the mornings. I shower, pick up my mail, replenish my supply of cash. I am home one morning the phone rings I pick it up.
Hello.
Leonard speaks.
Harry motherfucking Houdini.
I smile.
What’s up, Leonard?
Where you been, my son?
Been around.
Doing what?
Not much.
Hah! HAH!
I laugh.
What the fuck is that?
I say HAH! You’ve been running around with a little lady.
Maybe.
Maybe my ass. One of my reporters said you’ve been cavorting with a pretty young blonde.
One of your reporters?
I have people who report things to me. I call them my reporters.
And they watch me?
They check on you occasionally.
That’s gotta stop, Leonard.
It’s for your own good.
Stop having people watch me, Leonard.
Okay, okay, I’ll stop.
Thank you.
Have you been enjoying yourself?
I laugh.
Yes.
Bet you don’t miss working
Is this why I haven’t gotten any calls?
I thought you deserved some time off to concentrate on more important matters.
Thank you.
You seem to have done well.
Yeah.
I’m impressed.
What do you know about her?
I know she’s very attractive, I know she’s very rich. I know she’s from an old blue-blood family. I know you sound better than you have sounded in a long time.
You have someone watching her?
No, just did some checking.
No more of that.
I understand.
No more.
You’re protective of her.
Yeah.
I’m happy for you.
Why?
If you’re protective of her, it means you care for her. It’s a good thing, a beautiful thing, if you’re able to care for someone again.
You should come meet her.
Won’t be anytime soon.
Why?
I’m doing some deals right now, significant deals, and I have to pay close attention to them. I’ll come meet her when they’re finished.
Okay.
Anything you need?
Nope.
You’ve got cash?
Enough for a year.
He laughs.
I doubt that.
I don’t spend much.
You’ve got a girlfriend. You’ll start spending.
I laugh.
She’s not that way.
We’ll see.
Anything you need?
No.
Stay in touch?
Of course.
Good luck with your deals.
Goodbye, my son.
I hang up, leave, walk back downtown. Brooke is waiting for me.
We are having dinner with Brooke’s older sister Courtney and Courtney’s husband. It’s a test run for a potential meeting with her parents. We go to a fancy restaurant. I wear nice clothing, khakis and a blue shirt and a sport coat, the same clothing I wear when I am carrying something on the El and pretend to be a commuter. We sit down, we’re early, I’m nervous. I feel like an impostor in my outfit, like an actor in costume, like I’m pretending to be something I’m not. Brooke and I talked about what I should admit and what I shouldn’t admit, Brooke told me to be completely honest. She’s right, I should be honest, but I want the sister to like me and I know she probably won’t if she knows about my past. I know in many ways I shouldn’t give a shit, I am what I am, but I do give a shit. I don’t want to embarrass her.
We sit at our table, wait for her sister to arrive she’s late. Brooke takes my hand, speaks.
You okay?
Nervous.
You?
A little nervous.
No need for you to be nervous, I’m going to behave.
I know you are, and for whatever it’s worth, Courtney’s probably more nervous than either of us.
Why?
I’ve told her about you, she’s nervous and excited to meet you.
What’d you tell her?
Just nice things. You have nothing to worry about.
Brooke motions toward the door. I turn, see a man and woman walking toward us. The man has dark curly hair, olive skin, is in his late twenties. The woman is a taller version of Brooke. Same blond hair, same blue eyes, same skin, same lips. Same air of reserve, same air of wealth. She’s slightly taller than her husband, who walks a step behind her.
I stand say hello she smiles says hi, I’m Courtney, and this is my husband Jay, I shake each of their hands say I’m James we sit down.
The dinner is easy, comfortable. Courtney does most of the talking, she talks about her children, about her house on the North Shore, about how busy she is, about how much she loves her husband. Just before our food arrives, she asks if I mind if she orders wine I say no she asks how I’m doing with everything I know Brooke has told her about rehab I say well she orders a glass of chardonnay. She talks all the way through dinner, doesn’t touch her food. I eat a steak it’s great but I’m still hungry she doesn’t touch her salmon if I could I’d reach over the table and take it and eat it.
We finish dinner her husband picks up the bill. We walk out together she gives me a hug gives Brooke a hug we say goodbye they leave. Brooke and I start walking back to her apartment. She speaks.
That went well.
You think?
Yeah, she liked you.
How do you know that?
If she didn’t like you, she would have scowled at you and complained about everything and tortured Jay.
I laugh.
Poor fella.
Poor fella my ass, he knew what he was getting into when he married her.
I laugh again.
I’m glad it went well, glad you think she liked me.
She’ll report back to my parents and tell them that you’re completely acceptable.
Which is good.
Very good.
I motion toward my sport coat.
Now that I’ve done well, can I take this thing off?
No.
No? Why not?
I’ve never seen you dressed up before. I think you look handsome. Humor me and wear it until we get back to my place.
I smile, take her hand. A warmth and a chill roll through my body they settle softly they linger they scare me. I feel very close to Brooke, strong with her hand in mine, invincible to the rest of the world, but fragile to her, vulnerable to her, she could hurt me, she could hurt me, nothing else but she could hurt me.
We walk back to her place. We go to Brooke’s room. Brooke shuts the
door, lights a candle. I sit down on the bed she sits next to me. We stare at each other for a moment, silently stare at each other. We both start moving forward we close our eyes, reach, meet, hands breath lips bodies meet. There is something more this time, walls are down, armor discarded, defenses breached. There is something deeper faster more urgent in our hands in our breath in our lips in our bodies. We stand her hands run beneath my shirt my hands beneath her shirt around her back we briefly separate my shirt comes off we lie down. I can smell her hair, soap on her skin, perfume beneath her wrist. Her lips are soft against me, her hands firm. I take her shirt off. My chest against her chest I can feel her heart beating. I’m close to her in body and elsewhere I’m close to her.
I feel weak fragile vulnerable. She could hurt me. I’m close to her. I’m scared. She could hurt me. I can feel her heart beat, I can feel my heart beat, she could hurt me. I can’t go through with this she could hurt me. I can’t handle any more, any more she could hurt me.
I want to kiss her keep kissing her I haven’t felt this good since Lilly since Lilly. I want to keep kissing her I start to panic I’m fucking terrified. I pull away.
Why are you stopping?
I can’t.
What’s wrong?
I just can’t.
What’d I do?
Nothing.
Did I do something wrong?
I’m sorry.
For what?
I’m just freaking out.
Why?
I’m just freaking out. I’m sorry.
She stares at me. I look away. I’m embarrassed, ashamed, confused. My hands are shaking, my body is shaking. Her arms are around me she can feel me shaking I hate myself she could hurt me like Lilly hurt me I’m fucking terrified.
What’s wrong?
I can’t look at her.
What’s wrong, James?
I shake my head, bite my lip. I don’t want to cry in front of her I don’t want to cry. She pulls me toward her, pulls my head into her shoulder holds me there.
I want to love her. I want to give myself to her. I want to take her in every way I want to be normal with someone to have a normal life with someone. I don’t want to be scared to love to give it and receive it. I’m tired of being fucking alone. I can’t do it and I’m ashamed of myself. I speak softly speak.
It doesn’t have anything to do with you.
Something before?
Yeah.
Do you want to talk about it?
No.
We can just lie here. You don’t have to talk.
I’m sorry.
Just lie here.
We lie on her bed our legs entwined she holds my head against her shoulder. My heart slows, I stop shaking. Walls are up, armor on, defenses manned. She holds me I feel secure I’m safe again. She leans kisses my forehead.
You want a cigarette?
Yeah.
She pulls herself away from me. She stands walks to her dresser opens a drawer takes out a t-shirt. She puts it on and leaves the room. I sit up, lean against the headboard. I take a deep breath, stare at the sheets. I hate my weakness, hate my fear, hate myself. Brooke comes back into the room.
She’s carrying a pack of cigarettes, an ashtray, a bottle of water. She sits in front of me, hands me a cigarette, I take it she lights it.
Thank you.
You want some water?
I take the bottle, take a sip.
Thank you.
You okay?
I shake my head.
No, not at all. I’m totally fucked-up.
Is there anything I can do?
I wish there was.
I’m sorry.
Don’t be sorry. You’ve got nothing to be sorry about.
She leans forward, kisses my forehead. She moves so that she is sitting next to me. We smoke our cigarettes, take alternating sips from the bottle of water. I stare at the sheets, occasionally look over at her. She stares at the sheets, occasionally looks over at me. We finish our cigarettes, put them out. She takes the ashtray, sets it on the nightstand next to the bed.
She looks over at me, speaks.
You want to go to sleep?
Yeah.
We lie down next to each other. She leans forward again gently kisses my lips, puts her arms around me, lays her head on my chest. I watch her fall asleep. After about an hour, I get out of her bed. I walk into the living room, light a cigarette, stare out of her windows stare at the lake, smoke and stare at the lake it is quiet, black, still. I wish I could let her help me. I wish she could do something for me. I smoke and stare at the lake I’m scared, she could hurt me, she could hurt me.
I don’t sleep well. I leave early the next morning. I kiss Brooke goodbye start walking try to walk off my fear it doesn’t work. I walk all day walk until my legs hurt my feet hurt it doesn’t work. I go back to my apartment read the Tao it doesn’t work. I tell myself I have nothing to be scared of it doesn’t work. I tell myself that she’s not going to hurt me it doesn’t matter. I tell myself I can deal with whatever comes I have been through worse endured worse it doesn’t go away.
Brooke calls asks me how I’m doing I tell her okay. She asks if I want to meet her at a bar she’s going out with Heather I say yes. Maybe I’ll see her and feel differently, maybe, maybe.
I take a shower, change clothes, walk to the Local Option. I get there I see Brooke and Heather sitting at a table. I walk over to them as I walk I see Brooke looks upset. I arrive I speak.
Hi.
Hi.
Hi, Heather.
Hi, James.
I look at Brooke.
How you doing?
Brooke glances at Heather, looks back at me.
I’m fine.
I pull up a chair, sit across from her.
What’s wrong?
Nothing.
Something’s wrong.
It doesn’t matter.
Yes it does.
She shakes her head.
Just tell me.
She glances at Heather again, looks back at me.
We were standing at the bar and some guy came up next to me and grabbed my ass. I asked him what he was doing and he said grabbing your sweet ass and he did it again.
Is he here?
It doesn’t matter.
Is he here?
Heather points to three guys standing against the bar, speaks.
He’s the one in the middle.
I stand up.
I’ll be right back.
Brooke speaks.
What are you going to do?
Don’t worry about it.
I start walking toward the three against the bar. A gate inside of me opens. I am flooded with rage, fear, aggression, an urge to protect and an urge to inflict, an overwhelming urge to destroy destroy destroy. I know this feeling lived with it for years the Fury is back. I don’t like it, it almost killed me before, it is back. My heart starts pounding. I clench my fists, clench my jaw. Every cell in my body tenses, prepares, tightens up, coils. My mind slows down my eyes focus on three men leaning against the bar. They are all about the same size as me, they are facing the bar, facing away from me. They wear pressed khakis, leather shoes, stiff-starched shirts, expensive watches. They have clean-shaven faces and short, conservative haircuts. They may wipe me out, I may wipe them out, maybe nothing happens. I’m trying to control myself, trying to prepare.
I stop a couple of feet behind them, speak.
Excuse me.
No response. I raise my voice.
Excuse me.
One of the others not the one in the middle turns around.
Yeah?
I want to talk to your friend.
He taps his friend on the shoulder, motions toward me. The one in the middle turns around.
Yeah?
My heart is pounding. I motion to Brooke and Heather, who are watching us.
Don’t touch her again. Don’t touch her friend.
His friends turn toward me.
What?
She doesn’t want you touching her again. It was inappropriate the first time, there shouldn’t be a second time.
Who are you?
Doesn’t matter.
Did she ask you to talk to me?
Doesn’t matter.
I stare at him. He looks back at me. I’m nervous tense scared ready to go not sure what I’m going to do about his friends. He looks at each of them, looks back at me.
There are three of us and one of you.
I stare at him. Three of them, one of me. I don’t know what I’m going to do.
I don’t care how many of you there are. Don’t touch her again.
We stare at each other. I see Derek reach beneath the bar for a short, thick, wooden club he walks toward us, speaks.
James?
I look up at him.
There a problem?
I look back at the one in the middle, he looks toward Derek, sees the club.
He speaks.
No problem.
He turns back to me.
Tell your friend I’m sorry.
Thank you.
I walk back to the table sit down with Brooke and Heather. Brooke speaks.
What happened?
He told me to tell you he’s sorry.
What’d you say to him?
It doesn’t matter. He’s not going to touch you again.
She takes my hand.
Thank you.
Don’t worry about it.
She can feel me shaking.
Are you okay?
I’ll calm down in a few minutes.
She smiles.
Thank you for doing it.
I nod.
Sure.
I sit with them, drink a cola or two, smoke, wait to calm down. My hands stop shaking but the calm never comes. The Fury stays with me, taunts me, says drink motherfucker drink motherfucker, says destroy destroy, says I’m going to hurt you. I haven’t felt like this felt the Fury like this since rehab I already feel fragile and vulnerable. I don’t want to be in a bar right now. I want to make the Fury go away and alcohol destroys it. I want to drink. With each moment the need grows, grows, each moment is more of a struggle to resist. I need to leave. I want to drink. I need to leave. I wait for the three at the bar to leave first, I don’t want Brooke alone with the one in the middle. They leave after an hour I watch them go I wait five minutes stand, look at Brooke, speak.
I gotta go.
What’s wrong?
I just can’t be here right now.
I’ll come with you.