My Friend Leonard (20 page)

 

I
cut up the fake driver's license throw it away Jimmy Testardo no longer exists.

I close the safe deposit box.

I get a job at a clothing store on Michigan Avenue. I work in the stockroom with a Filipino and two Mexicans. Most of my work is at night, after the store is closed. My co-workers and I are given a list by the manager with such tasks as replace flat front khakis, replenish and fold all fashion t-shirts, replace ribbon dispensers behind counter, sweep and mop entrance floor. It's a dumb job, and I don't get paid shit, but it feels good to work.

I write another script. I send it to my friends I know they're tired of reading my awful scripts. I tell them this will be the last one.

I start sleeping, every second or third night I sleep easily, well. The shaking and rumbling of the train is a song that lulls me into six, eight, ten glorious hours of peace, silence and blackness.

I walk in the heat in the rain in the day night morning afternoon sunrise sunset I walk for hours. I walk along the lake and I jump into the water. I see a bench and I sit and have a smoke. I see an ice cream truck and I order the largest cone they sell. I take naps on the lawns of public parks, I listen to music played in bandstands, I read in the shade of trees in the shade of towering trees. I go to the zoo look at the animals, yo gorilla, what the fuck's up!

My friends tell me the script isn't bad might actually be good. It's a romantic comedy a love triangle between friends with a happy ending. I decide to try to sell it to Hollywood I don't know anyone in Hollywood, but so what I'll try anyway.

I wander the halls of the art museum the pictures are still beautiful and the galleries are air-conditioned I wander the halls.

I visit Lilly. Her flowers wilt in the heat so I bring more of them. I don't
talk much, don't feel the need to talk anymore, just sit with her, it's good to know she's there, just sit.

I get fired from the job at the clothing store. The manager decided she wanted every article of clothing in the store, and there are thousands of them, taken off the shelves and re-folded. I ask her why she says because I said so. I try to organize a strike with the other stockroom guys and I succeed and we buy a box of doughnuts and sit on the floor in the middle of the store and refuse to work. She tells the other stockroom guys they can keep their jobs if they end the strike and she fires me and tells me if I don't leave the store immediately she's calling the police. I take the doughnuts with me.

My friend has a cousin that works for a famous director in Hollywood. I call her and I ask her to read my script, she says send it and I'll read it when I have some time. I call her once a week to remind her. She doesn't read it, so I keep calling her.

 

L
eonard calls me tells me he's coming to town, he says he's touring with a rock band, they have a show in Chicago. I ask him what band he tells me I laugh ask him what the fuck is he doing touring with a rock band he tells me the singer is a friend and he felt like having a strange summer. I ask him if he wants me to meet him at his hotel, he says no he's staying somewhere else, he tells me where I start walking downtown.

The hotel is on Michigan Avenue, across the street from his regular hotel. Its lobby is also several stories up, above a high-end shopping center. I take an elevator to the lobby. The doors open to a vast room that takes up the entire floor of the building. Along one wall are the reception and concierge desks, along the other three are floor-to-ceiling windows. In the middle of the room there are tables and chairs, long, luxurious sofas, waiters and waitresses carrying trays of appetizers and drinks. I look for Leonard, see him sitting on a sofa with several women and one man. I recognize the man as the singer of the band. I walk toward them, Leonard sees me coming, stands, yells.

MY SON, MY SON!

I wave, laugh. Everyone on the couch turns and looks at me.

MY SON HAS ARRIVED.

What's up, Leonard?

Living the rock 'n roll lifestyle, loving the rock 'n roll lifestyle.

I laugh again, sit down in a chair across from Leonard. He introduces me to the singer and the women. The singer, who also plays the drums, is in his early forties, has short graying hair, the slight accent of a Texas childhood, he wears jeans and t-shirt. None of the women are older than twenty, and on a scale of one to ten, they all rank somewhere around fifty. They each wear different versions of almost nothing, which is fine with me. Although Leonard seems perfectly comfortable with them, he doesn't
really fit in. He is significantly older than all of them, and his clothes are more like those of an accountant. The singer and the girls are all drinking, Leonard has a pitcher of water. I order a cola and sit and listen to the singer tell stories about his life on the road as a rock star. He talks about trashing hotel rooms, orgies in the backs of buses, sets of twins, a set of triplets, about things in his contract that venues are required to provide, such as peanut butter cups stacked in perfect pyramids and cans of cola cooled to exactly thirty-six degrees. The girls hang on every word. Leonard seems to know the stories, adds certain details to them and says that's rock 'n roll, man, that's rock 'n roll at the end of each of them. I just sit and laugh, though I'm not sure if I'm laughing with the singer or at the singer.

At the end of a story about a particularly randy mother and daughter team, which draws big laughs and several oohs and ahhs, the singer says he needs to go upstairs and meditate before he leaves for the show. One of the girls asks him what kind of meditation he practices and he invites her to come upstairs with him so that he can show her. She obliges and they leave together.

The rest of the girls, now sitting with Leonard and me leave fairly quickly, each inventing a different excuse. When the last of them is gone, Leonard looks at me and he speaks.

What'd you think?

About him or them?

Them.

I love them all.

He laughs.

And him?

He was fine.

Leonard laughs again.

He's a dick.

I laugh.

He is, he's a dick.

Why do you hang out with him?

Because this is fun. I rock, I roll, I live it, I love it. And even though he's a dick, he's a fun dick.

I laugh.

You're doing good?

Yeah.

Anything new?

I got that girl in Hollywood to read my script.

Leonard smiles.

You just kept bugging her and finally she caved in?

I nod, smile.

Yeah.

What'd she say?

She said it's really good, that I could probably sell it, that I should move out there and try to keep doing it.

Leonard smiles, claps his hands.

That's fucking great.

There's more.

More, what kind of more?

After we finished talking about the script, we just kept talking. First night we talked for five hours. Next night five more. For the last three nights we've been up until dawn just talking.

What do you talk about?

I don't know. Everything and nothing. We just talk.

Talk for hours and hours and hours?

Yeah.

What's her name?

Liza.

That's a good name, a strong name. Are you in love?

I've never met her.

Are you in love?

I don't know.

My oh my, this is fucking wonderful. You're in love and you're moving to LA.

I'm not moving.

Why?

I'm just not.

Are you fucking crazy?

No.

You just got a new job, right?

Yeah.

What are you doing?

I work at a frame store. I'm the cashier.

That's a bullshit job.

Yeah it is.

You'd rather do that than be a writer?

No.

Then move to LA where you can make silly movie money doing what you want and spend time with the girl you stay up all night talking to.

I don't want to leave here.

Why?

I just don't.

You gotta let her go.

What?

You heard me. You gotta let her go.

This isn't about that.

You don't want to admit it, but it is.

No it's not.

You leave here and you leave her and you leave your memories and leave all those dreams you had behind and you finally let go.

Fuck you, Leonard.

She left you, you gotta leave her.

Fuck you, Leonard.

She did what she thought was right for her, you gotta do what's right for you. You respect her decision, and you know she'd respect your decision.

Fuck you, Leonard.

And if you don't leave, ten years from now you're gonna look back and regret it, and you're gonna hate yourself for being a coward and you're gonna hate Lilly for keeping you here and you'd know you fucked-up and blew it.

FUCKING DROP IT, LEONARD.

I'll drop it, but you should think about it, and we're going to talk more about it.

I look away. Leonard doesn't speak, just lets it sit there. I turn back, speak.

What time's the concert?

The opening band is at seven, but they're no good. They don't rock like a
good band should rock, so fuck them. We should show up at around eight thirty.

You want us to meet you here?

Who you bringing?

My friend Erin.

Good, I like Erin. She dresses well, speaks well, has a nice smile and a nice laugh. I'll pick you up at seven thirty at your apartment.

I stand.

See you then.

Think about it, my son.

I walk home and I take a shower. I hang out with Julianne she has a beer and I have a cola, I let her talk listen to her talk even though her accent has become familiar I still love to listen to it. Erin shows up a little early. She has a beer. We wait for Leonard who arrives at exactly seven thirty. We walk out of the apartment. There's a large black limo waiting at the curb, a uniformed driver standing near the open rear door. I look at Leonard, speak.

Black?

He speaks.

Yeah, black.

I thought you only drove white cars?

There's an exception to every rule and the exception to that rule extends to limousines, because white limousines are silly.

I laugh. We get into the limo and the driver closes the door behind us.

There's a fridge stocked with cola and champagne, a television, a stereo.

Leonard and I drink cola, Erin drinks champagne, and we listen to music by the band we're going to see as we drive out to the venue. When we get there we're waved into a reserved parking area and we're led to our seats, front and center, by a representative of the band. The show starts and the singer, who may be an asshole in his life, rocks the fucking house once he's on stage. I rock with him, Erin rocks with him, Leonard rocks with him.

We rock and fucking roll all night.

Live it, love it.

 

I
think about leaving. I think about Lilly. I think about my life and what I want from it, I think about these things as I walk, as I work, as I eat, as I shower, as I read, while I'm on the phone, when I'm with my friends. My last thoughts before I sleep, my first thoughts as I wake, I think about leaving here.

 

I
sit before her. I sit and I stare at the stone, at her name, at the dates of her life, at the words, You were Loved, at the words You were Loved. I sit before her and I remember the first time we met she smiled and said hello we were standing in line at the clinic medical unit and she turned around and she smiled and she said hello. I remember our first cigarette she said want a smoke, tough guy and she laughed at me. I remember the first time we were alone she came upon me in the woods I was broken and she held me and said you'll be okay, you'll be okay, and as long as she held me I was okay. I remember our first kiss, the way she tasted, her breath, the smell of her skin, the way my heart beat, beat, beat. I remember every minute of our time, every minute spent hiding from people who told us we shouldn't be together, every conversation, every kiss. I remember her eyes those beautiful blue eyes like deep water, I remember staring into those eyes and knowing. I remember how her hand felt small and fragile and stronger than I thought it could be. I remember her hair long and black a beautiful mess she used to hide it from the world with a baseball cap. I remember her smooth cold pale skin like marble the way my hands felt as they moved around it. I remember the scars on her wrists I thought were behind her. I remember crying with her and for her and because of her. I remember laughing with her and for her and because of her. I remember the peace I knew with her, the security I knew with her, the strength I knew with her, the hope I knew with her, the love I knew with her. I knew love with her, love like nothing before it. We had dreams, plans, we were going to spend our lives together. We carried each other through blackness and I thought through death and I was wrong. She did what she did. I don't hate her for it anymore. I'm going to do what I'm going to do. I start to cry. Some of the tears are sadness and sorrow, some are pain and rage, some are for loss, some for forgiveness and some of
them, the best of them, are because I am fortunate to have known her at all. I lean toward the stone where she lies and I cry and I whisper I love you, Lilly, and I'll be back to see you, I love you, I'll miss you and I'll be back.

I stand and I walk away.

It's time to go.