LB |
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Chapter 14 |
| The summer had been beyond my wildest dreams. I was out of school, which opened up a world of options. I could
now do anything. I had a choice whereas before the choice was go to school or be killed for cutting school. Since I'd quit my job to go see the band, I needed a new source of income. I got a job unloading boxcars at a warehouse. It was dirty, hot, backbreaking work. No one wanted to be in that department and they leapt at the chance to transfer out. I didn't care -- it didn't matter what I did as long as they paid me. I wasn't going to enjoy any normal job. I couldn't wait to see the band again. I knew nothing was ever going to top that summer, but I was anxious to find out what might try. 1984 floated into 1985... It was cold and rainy the day I was sitting on my sister's bed and she finally remembered... "Oh yeah," she picked up Goldmine and flipped through it to find a page. "I meant to give this to you." She tossed the mag on the bed. There was an ad in the back for someone who wanted to write to Pretenders fans. It said something like, "Pretenders fans throughout the universe" could write. I chuckled. I've always felt out of place, but figured that even I fit that description. I copied the name and address down and stuck it in the pocket of the shirt I was wearing. We joked about how it was probably some 16-year-old girl who was in love with Malcolm. Boy, talk about wrong... I quickly forgot about the address I'd copied down until I came across it by accident one day. I scribbled out a note, addressed it to Taunia and tossed it in the mail to Akron. In that first note I wrote to her, I'd mentioned some people that I wrote to, asking her if she knew any of them. This was common among us -- giving other fans everyone else's names and addresses so they could write. I'd get letters in the mail from people I didn't know saying they'd gotten my address from so-and-so. It's still not anything I mind someone doing. My phone number, no, but my address, that's cool. I'd made some juicy comments by each name as a guide for her in case she considered writing to any of them. By D.'s name, I'd made the notation that I didn't like her. I didn't say why, just that I didn't. Taunia wrote back and asked why I didn't like her. I'd overlooked the question in my reply and received another letter saying that I hadn't answered her question. I laughed out loud when I read it. I seem to sort of frighten people. I don't know why. I don't mind fighting someone, but I don't go after anyone just to do it. You really have to make me feel violated to fight you. She was obviously not afraid of me at all. It was very nice, having someone be fearless around me. She didn't act like I was Frankenstein like everyone else did. So I'd screwed up and missed the question. It wasn't on purpose. Taunia has a need for reasoning and truth that goes beyond anything I've ever seen. Now not only was it, "You didn't answer the question", but also, "Why didn't you answer the question?" I always had to see for myself and she always had to know the answer. I replied that I thought D. was boring -- no sense of humour. And the note returned thanked me for the insight. She said she had written to D. and had known there was something not clicking there, but couldn't pin it down. No sense of humour, that was it. And the motor ran a little slow. The first thing we had in common was the band. The second thing was who we didn't like. It wasn't a bad start, but I had no idea it would flip my entire life over. With my second note, I sent along the Pretenders book by Ian Tharper. I seemed to be the only person who could find them and had mailed copies out to everyone I knew. I figured she didn't have one either, and if she did she could have a second one. She didn't have a copy and it just happened to arrive on her birthday. She was thrilled. My next letter started out "I'm so bored I'm just sitting here picking my nose." She told me a few years later that it was one of the funniest thing she'd ever read. She thought it was funny anyhow, but the fact that it was a crude statement coming from someone who didn't even know her or how she would react -- she thought it took a lot of nerve, which she admired. I don't really have a lot of nerve. It's usually an accident or ignorance on my part, but some people are charmed by it. I say things and certain people laugh and put their arm around me -- that's when I know I did it again, the laugh and the arm thing... I say stuff that maybe I shouldn't say even if it is the truth (although in the case of that letter, I wasn't really picking my nose -- just figured that if I thought it was funny, someone else would too). I don't usually mean to offend and I never mean to hurt anyone. I just have no tact. I learned something really interesting from Taunia... I learned that feelings weren't wrong. Feelings are pure things. Thoughts could be wrong, but feelings could not. She had this great ability to sort me out without it feeling like I was being sorted out. And she gave great advice, O Wise One. Chrissie did that awful "I Got You Babe" with UB40. It wasn't offensive so much, just not what I needed or wanted. Dammit, were they taking time off or what? I guess they deserved it, with how long they'd been going and all. I was getting bored. Crap and more crap started to take over the airwaves. There was nothing happening Pretenderswise. My parents left for a vacation. They'd be gone for three weeks. Maybe four. I had a birthday while my parents were gone. I could've taken the day off work, since we got birthdays off. But I thought it would be depressing to stay home alone since all my friends had to work anyhow. Theresa came over later in the evening and we made a pizza. "Did Mom and Dad call you yet?" "No, but I expect them to sometime soon." We watched TV. Turned it off because it was awful. Played Pretenders records. Played Trivial Pursuit. She won. She always won. Before she left she said, "Happy Birthday. Sorry I didn't have any money. I'll get you something later." "Thanks. You'd better get me something later." It was nearly midnight when she went home. Why hadn't my parents called? They called a few days later -- they'd forgotten it was my birthday. I mean -- totally forgot. They didn't remember I was going to have a birthday when they'd planned their vacation. Isn't that illegal? Theresa did get me something later. I don't remember what, but she always gets me the most wonderful gifts. Sometimes it's a collection of my favourite candy bars, sometimes it's a CD player -- whatever it is, I always love it. On her birthday earlier in the year, I hadn't gotten her anything from lack of funds. I'd figured I'd get something for her later... Then I discovered that no one else had gotten her anything either. I called her. "What's up?" "Nothin'..." She was bummed. She had no money. We didn't even have the cash to head up to San Francisco to piss around for a few hours. She had to go to work anyhow. "Hey, you comin' over later?" "I guess. I mean, I guess I have to." I laughed, "I have 12 bucks -- what do you want?" "I don't care. Don't even bother, this just sucks." "Awww...come on. Come over later. We'll do something fun. Besides... Mom and Dad got you a chocolate cake with custard!" That was a joke -- that was my cake. She despised chocolate-with-custard cakes. I used to have my mom get them for Theresa's birthday all the time until around Theresa's 16th birthday, when she finally told them how much she hated them. Of course I knew she hated them all along, but I loved them! Then I made a deal with the Devil (OK, so it was my Dad) and went shopping. Later, I made a pizza (which has to be the second food of the gods, after chocolate). Theresa arrived. We went to my room. Her day had been pretty bad all the way around. She was awakened that morning by her cat throwing up on her. "I'm gonna get a Coke. Want one?" "Yeah." I left her there and got what I'd purchased for her out of the garage and put it in the living room. Came back with Cokes. "Pizza's ready. Want your present now?" She was surprised. "You mean you got me something?" She walked out of the room ahead of me. "Aaahhh!!! I can't believe this! I can't believe you got this for me!" I had a Fender Telecaster. Jennifer had one too. Theresa didn't have an electric guitar. She and I each had an acoustic and I knew how badly she wanted an electric guitar. She actually hugged me. She'd never voluntarily done that before. And only once since. "Yeah, well, it was on sale. You'd be amazed at what I can do with 12 bucks..." K. called one day. We were on the phone to each other several times a week. "What's up, Benton?" M. was at K.'s house, as he often was. "Nothin'. Just got home from work so I haven't had a chance to get into any trouble yet. What are you guys up to?" "Benton, we're selling our Pretenders stuff." "WHAT?! You can't! Why would you do that?!" "We both just think it's time to grow up, y'know what I mean?" "No, I don't." Did "growing up" mean not liking your favourite band anymore? What the hell did that have to do with anything? "Don't sell your stuff. It's not like you don't still love them -- you can't turn it on and off like a faucet. Besides, you might be really mad that you did it later." "Benton, it's just time." M. got on the phone, told me the same thing. Is this a joke, I wondered. They were not getting rid of everything. They couldn't! "M., are you sure?" "Yeah, I've been thinking about it and I'm selling everything." "Damn. Well, you know that Message Of Love poster is mine. How much do you want for it? I mean, you want to sell it piece by piece, or the entire thing or what?" I figured he was safe. If he ended up wanting it back, he could have it back. "Benton... I sold it already." "Sold what?" I knew he wasn't talking about my Message Of Love poster. We practically had a blood pact over that one. "I sold all my stuff to B. for $200..." "WHAT?! You CAN'T! Are you out of your fucking mind?! I'd have given you $200 for That. One. Poster! All right... just call B. and tell her you changed your mind." "I can't Benton. I already told her I would." "No no no, c'mon, just tell her you can't, big deal. You won't tell her 'no' when you already told me 'yes'?" But he wouldn't. That poster was supposed to be mine, he knew how much I loved it. His agreement with someone he didn't even like, someone he referred to as "The Bitch", was more important to him than his promise to me? I was confused. I thought we were mates. I was about out of things to say. I just sat there listening to him breathe. Finally M. said, "Benton, B. has money." "I can send you money in a few days. I'll send you my paycheck." "I already told B. I'd sell it to her." I was devastated. And I'm still pissed about that poster. |
