When I was eight years old my Grandfather, “Poppy,” took my cousin Ryan and I to see Independence Day. You know, the film where Will Smith and Bill Pullman both kicked major ass while saying some hard-ass shit like, “Welcome to Earth!”. Yeah, that movie was slayer, even though Poppy fell asleep halfway through. I lost all my skittles when the aliens helmet-head burst open like a bear trap. My cousin Ryan still reminds me that a 70 year old man was fast asleep while I pissed myself and lost my treats. I startle easily, what can I say?
But, I think we all know who the real star of that film was, Jeff Goldblum. Goldblum played the role of the panicked intellectual, David Levinson. Levinson was a techie for a TV station, where his previous M.I.T. skills were wasting away along with time and distance between him and his ex wife. Levinson’s actions were selfish and foolish, all the way from his interactions with his father, to his persistence to find his ex wife in what felt like an apocalyptic moment for humanity. But near the metaphorical end of the surface of the man's essence, and close to the beginning of the depth of character, we truly find our purpose. At the end of the film Levinson created a computer virus that thwarted the alien invasion. The virus rendered them helpless and brought them swift defeat. He redeemed himself not only in front of his father eyes, but as well as his ex-wife. Levinson was a romantic, and romantic’s are often panicked individuals that risk it all for those they love. Goldblums role in the film reminded me of something Mark Twain once said, “Thunder is good, thunder is impressive; but it is lightning that does the work.” Depending on where you are in life, I believe that you are either the feeling or the impact, the flint or the flame, the boom or crushing rock, Will Smith or Jeff Goldblum, or lastly the thunder or the lighting. As for Laura Marie, well she was definitely impressive.
Before I had received Laura’s text, I had been back in the states for nine months. During those nine months I have been working a menial retail job that sucks the life force from my body. My relationships with friends have altered between fractured, renewed and completely lost. It's safe to assume that ever since being back in the America’s I’ve been in a rut, and it has been suffocating. So when I got a text from Laura saying, “Hey, I’m going to be in town. I want to see you,” I became overjoyed. I responded quickly.
That Friday night I closed the store in blur. I shut the gates with purpose, stocked the shelves with fervor and drove my ticking time bomb of a car to Bitter Alibi in record time. I may have licked a couple of yellow lights on my way. Parking my car in the parking lot adjacent from Bitter Alibi, I was frustrated because I had to park farther down the line because most of the spots were taken. My thoughts ran in circles as I walked hastily in my squeaky shoes, “I hope she can find a place to park. I hope this doesn’t deter her from coming. Am I wearing a cool shirt? Nope… just a work shirt. I look like a dweeb.”
Before I even reached the alleyway that descended into Bitter Alibi, voices roared, terrible pop music reverberated between the walls; half sand orange brick on the right, and newly painted white brick on the left. Passing through the black gate into the alleyway I saw several bar-friends. They were sitting on the green wooden benches holding their respective drinks. Gin and tonic for Mary and Alice, a tallboy of PBR for Luke, a small chalice of Bota Box red wine for Sarah, whiskey topped with a drop of coke for Justin, a Pineapple Sweet Water 420 for Greg and finally a nearly empty dog bowl for Greg's barely one year old Doberman Pinscher, Yuri. The dog was named after some anime I never really got but Yuri’s an attention whore that love’s people. The best part about Greg and Yuri is that we never get asked for cigarettes or money by the local homeless population that poach the street.
I would have never made friends with most of these individuals if I was completely depressed. Often, after work I come to the Bitter Alibi for a night cap and a pleasant surface conversation. I don’t think these people are incapable of having a deep conversation, but it’s hard to get around that awkwardness when I knew that if I breached the emotional and personal barrier, they might think that they were the ones that made me cry. No, it’s not you guys, it’s just everything I haven’t told you. Either way, they were all there. Greg immediately stood up, gave me a hug, and with those big doe eyes asked me, “Brady! *hic* how are you sir?”
“Oh, you know. Um, swell.” I sat down next time, legs shaking as if it was below freezing. “Um, how are you?”
Greg shrugged his shoulders and lifted his cigarette to his mouth while still holding on the leash of a very active and happy Yuri.
“I’m doing well man," he said, "just same shit different day.” I nodded in agreement. “Yeah man, tell me about," I replied.
Mary and Alice both waved at me from behind a crowd of frat boys hoping to coral them that evening. You could smell the desperation like you could smell a spoiled trout in a bakery.
“How are you handsome?!” They said in unison.
The frat dudes turned around to look at me. “Well ladies," I began with a delicate gentry accent, "if beauty was reflective of emotions, then I’d say I’m just as fabulous as you look.” Mary and Alice giggled, the frat dudes groaned. I gave them a wink and wandered farther down towards the large basement door that led to the inside of the bar. The big black door was caked with chalk and posters from upcoming local shows. It was illuminated by a street light; two red and one yellow. Wrapping my fist around the handle I pulled hard allowing a large gust of wind to escape into the night sky. I shuttered as the air cooled my body, what if she was already here?
Peering around the crowded room, I saw no sign of Laura, nor did I feel that she was here. The basement room to the east was lined by the bar, bar stools and it’s stooped patrons while tables and metal chairs lined the westward wall. On this night, if you could see past the sea of heads you’d see a black spiral staircase that led upstairs, then five paces beyond the stairs were two sliding train car doors that no one, even sober, seemed to know how to operate. This was very unfortunate because those were the bathroom doors. Pushing my way through the crowd I came to the center of the maw, where my favorite bartender and close friend Liam stood.
Liam flashed a smile as wide as the brim of his flatbill hat, “My brother,” he said reaching out to me, “how are you sir?” I wanted to blurt out, “I’m fucking panicking dude!” but I didn’t.
“Just peachy Liam, just peachy. How are you man?”
“Oh you know, good man. Good people are here tonight.”
“Yeah man, I ran into most of them outside.”
“Yeah dude, well, what can I get you? Whitehorse?”
“You know it, but give me a minute because I’m waiting for someone.”
Liam chuckled and tipped his hat, “Waiting for a lady?” he said grinning.
I starred at my feet, “Yeah, you know… that’s what I usually do.”
Liam extended his fist one, tapping my knuckles. “You pimp.”
“Yeah… I guess.”
I walked back outside to still find my friends drinking, the dogs wrestling and the humidity filling my chest with extra pressure. I sat next to Greg once more and patiently waited while pretending to listen to his story about his day. I couldn’t concentrate on a single syllable, so I just clicked my shoes together and mumbled the occasional, “Yeah dude,” and “Wow.”
A slight breeze hit me, and I looked up.
“Hey you,” said a familiar voice. Laura stood there in a black shirt that hugged her body tightly. She was also wearing some fresh looking Hawaiian short shorts with cute sneakers. Her hair had been dyed almost a white blonde which made her milky white complexion glimmer. But her eyes though, those haven’t changed, and neither did her smile. I shot up quickly from both my seat and Greg’s story, quickly embracing her in my arms. I buried my head past her shoulders and held on for a bit too long, but she didn’t let go either. About 15 seconds had passed, we let go and Greg’s face looked as if I had just snubbed him, which in reality was true.
“I’m so glad you’re here!” I boomed.
Laura giggled, “Yeah me too! It’s been forever! When was the last time I saw you? Like before you moved to England?”
“It couldn’t have been that long, really?”
“Yeah dude, like almost two years!”
“What was the last CD I gave you?”
“Moneen, red tree?”
“Yeah! And you gave me the Girls album.”
“Yes! That’s right!
“Shit that was forever ago. Well, I’m hungry and very thirsty, are you?”
Laura nodded her head like an anime doll and giggled again, brushing her hair past her ear, “yes, yes I am!”
“Okay, let's go inside.”
I didn’t even say a word to Greg as we walked away and into the inside of the bar. Weaving through the crowd I made eye contact with Liam again. He nodded as if to say, “I got you brother” and slid open the cooler door that was behind the bar. Pulling out a PBR, to which I call a white horse, he cracked it open and placed it’s frosty contents in my hand. “And what will the lady be having?” Liam asked. I looked at Laura and she stood there puzzled at the many choices for only about a minute, but as soon as she saw the Bota Box her mind clicked like cogs in watch. “A glass of red wine please.” she said.
“You got it girl.” As Liam was poured Laura her glass of wine I looked around and realized that I had cut in line of several of the frat guys that were previously outside. One of them gave me the stink eye, but I didn’t care. It’s one of the many perks of being close with Liam, or perhaps being a regular fly on the wall at this place.
I ordered the usual, the best ramen in town, the Nighttime Bite and Laura wanted a side of season and steamed broccoli. Good god, that ramen is filled with a tangy sauce, bits of bacon, egg, scallions. It warms your entire body as it politely fills your gut in the best way possible. I was about to be in my happy place. With drinks in hand Laura and walked to the side table right by the bathrooms. Not very romantic, but I wasn’t trying to fill the place with roses either. These tables have bench that are built in the wall and then a stool on the other side. So I did my usual chivalrous thing and asked, “Bench or stool?” She took 3 seconds, “Bench please!”
“You got it.”
As soon as we sat down Laura took a quick swig of her drink, and without hesitation demanded, “Okay! Tell me EVERYTHING about England?!”
“You want to hear everything?” I said.
“YES!” she about yelled, and she’s not really a loud girl either.
“I’m serious. I’m so jealous. Tell me everything.”
I couldn’t help but smirk, “Well that’s a long story.”
Like a bullet she fired back, “I’ve got all night.”
I started from the beginning. I told her about how months prior to leaving I was in love, and thought that I shouldn’t go. But I told her that I made a promise to myself on my death bed; if I beat cancer, then doing this. I continued on to the first couple of weeks where I got the job at the local “rock” pub, where I’d serve university kids cheap cocktails while the stomped around listening to Drowning Pool, Guns N’ Roses, Disturbed and AC/DC. The patrons absolutely loved popular radio butt-rock, while I walked home after a long night listening to Cecil Otter or Cloakroom. Laura pointed out that my intense music snobbery hasn’t changed a day, but that was only after her telling me that she’s seen Bayside three more times since I’ve been gone. “And Brady! When they started playing ‘These Looked Like Strong Hands’, I was like NOPE I have to go the front.” I called her a fan girl and she simply nodded. I had barely touched my noodles, she had barely touched her steamed broccoli, and our eyes hardly strayed far from each others. We couldn’t shut up.
As I came to the lengthy close about my captivity in the Copenhagen airport on my way back home, I expressed to her that I have been in a rut ever since I’ve moved back to the States. I told Laura that working in retail has been the bane of my existence, but the bar job was keeping me sane. My relationships have suffered and my depression has flared up like a kettle about to whistle. Laura sat there the entire time, keeping poise and a cute but attentive gaze.
“And so I know I need to get out of here," I said, "I need a change of pace. You know?”
Leaning in close, with her hands tucked under chin and elbows on the table, Laura seemed to be paused in thought. Laura’s gaze looked around the table and then down at her feet, “Yeah, I know what you mean." Her posture fidgeted and the timing between her words slowed, "But," she paused, "well, okay," she sat up and placed her hand on the table, "let me say something.”
This was the first time that she had seemed oddly out of place.
“I’ve been thinking about you for a while. And sometime ago, I don’t remember when, but you posted on social media that you were thinking about moving.” Laura took a deep breath, “annnnd, I am moving to Los Angeles in February and I think you should move with me.” I was mid sip of my beer when she said this, and probably shouldn't have been. I peered over my can, trying not to choke, as if I was watching some UFO land right in front of me. “Wait, you want me to move with you to L.A.?”
“Yes.”
Do you believe in ghosts? If i’m being honest with myself, I’m still on the fence about it. I had several odd experiences in college in what was supposedly a haunted park. Those nights make for a good story; but that’s neither here nor there. The real question is, do you believe in the supernatural? A presence, a timing, a moment, that is out of your control and beyond your understanding. Some might say that love is supernatural. The next four hours with her felt supernatural, and it was only 11:00pm. My heart beat like the build up in Perfume Genius’s distorted glitter pop single “Slip Away,” and my mind rattled with the lyrics.
Here, I'll let you have a taste.
“Don't hold back, I want to break free
'Cause it's singing through your body
And I'm carried by the sound
Every drum, every single beat
They were born from your body
And I'm carried by the sound"
Laura talked about her music. She said she needed to find change to pursue her art, and that place was L.A. She glossed over romantic notions of starting a new life as if it was normal. I felt like I was listening to Richard Edwards, the lead singer of Margot and Nuclear So and So's before shit hit the fan. You know, where everything seems fun, and little dangerous. Laura's energy spiked with each pause, as if nanosecond day dreams were injecting her with caffeine. She’d say things like that she had been saving little bits of money here and there, making it sound feasible, or slyly reminding me that I used to live in California, harkening some feeling of rebirth within my mind. Laura was Jospeh Campbell, and her contiguous presence suddenly became the call to adventure.
We finished dinner and walked outside to greet the newly pouring rain. Under the porch of the Bitter Alibi, in the alley way that was once crowded, now empty, we stood there alone, with our cigarettes. In one hand we held our smokes, in the other we held up phones up to each others ear. She wanted to show me her music, and I wanted to show her mine. “Here, this is something I’m working on,” I said, “it's rough, but...” Laura shushed me and gave me a lovingly but stern look, “I like it.”
She then played me some of her music. I don't know if it was the rain or some fucking voodoo magic but as soon as it graced my ears I teared up. The music didn’t startle me, it just welcomed me. I was so proud of her. Her voice was provocative, filling and beautifully bare. As the rain pecked our skin I looked at her and said, “How are a million boys not in love with you right now?” But in typical Laura fashion she just shrugged, giggled and said, “I don’t know.” The rain stopped.
“Hey, so we have three options,” I said squirming.
“Okay, what are they?”
“We can either go next door to JJ’s, grab another drink or if you need to go…”
Laura didn’t hesitate, “No, let's grab another drink.”
I was shocked, I mean I was under the impression that she had to drive 25 miles later to stay at her grandparents.
I double checked, “Are you sure?”
And with fly confidence she assured me, “Yeah, I’m sure.”
“Cool.” I responded with finger guns.
As we started walking up and out the alley she stopped me by lightly grabbing my arm, “Wait, what was the third option?”
“Oh nothing.”
I lied.
I secretly wanted to invite her back to my apartment. I've been wanting to do this all night. But when she insisted on knowing the third option, my heart told me to lie. So I just told her that I just blended grabbing one more drink and JJ’s into one option.
We went to JJ’s and drank beers in the dimly lit pit of masses. The music was loud and powerful. The lead singer of the punk band dressed in lace and a bunny mask, howling and dancing aggressively. Everything this evening was, and had been potent and visceral. Laura was standing next to me, smiling. I asked her several times if she wanted a coke, spirit or water. I asked her multiple times if she was doing well, having a good time, etc. And each time she asked me to go outside to talk, she wanted to hear me. She brought up L.A. three more times, and each time it was as if we had already bought tickets. Each time we were outside she’d scoot closer to me. Whether that was because the music bellowed so loudly that it passed through the stone walls or that regulars that knew me wanted to hang out as well. As the band finished up I asked her what she wanted to do next.
“So what would you like to do now?” My mind was panicking. We were getting closer and closer to point where either we were about to go home together, or she had a long drive ahead of her.
“I don’t care, what would you like to do?”
Our conversation became a game of chess.
“Well you can come over if you want or…”
“That sounds good to me.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
My face torqued, “Okay, well you should stay the night then since you’ve had bit to drink, but don’t worry I have three couches and each one gets distinctively farther and farther away from my bedroom.”
Laura laughed, “I’m not worried Brady. Let’s go back to your place.”
“Deal.”
We grabbed two beers to go and drove back to my apartment in my car, the rain picked back up. When we got back to my apartment we went straight to my room and sat on the floor next to my bookshelf. It's littered with Star Wars novels, odd sci-fi collections and an assortment of journals. I showed her my comic collection in the milk crate next to the shelf, pointing out several that she needed to read like The Crow or the Poe Dameron series from Star Wars. Laura grabbed a book off the shelf, “Oh, so I see you still have ‘The Things They Carried’ on your shelf.” She thumbed through the pages, “And it looks like you haven’t read it yet.”
“I know! I know! But have you read High Fidelity yet?!”
“Nooooooo.”
“Next time we see each other, let’s get that done.”
She nodded, but before she put it back on the shelf, she signed the book upon my request. I felt as though I would never have this again. We continued to sit on my floor, laughing and swapping stories form our time together in Cambridge. We wondered and speculated where the other people that studied with us were today. Soon it was 3a.m. and Laura was still in my room.
“Okay, so where do you want to sleep? There’s this couch and then…”
“Your bed is just fine Brady.”
“Do you want some pajamas?”
“I do.”
I dug out my star wars pajama bottoms and tossed her the pair. Without hesitation she stripped down and put on the pajamas with me still present in the room. I wore my pokemon joggers. We slipped into bed and turned off the lights. Laura claimed the left side of my bed, rolled over and asked, “Hey, can I show you this Oasis documentary?”
"Of course."
I agreed and we started the documentary. As the movie played we slowly got closer and closer. Eventually my arm was around her and her head was on my chest. I focused in and out of sleep, but also in and out of dread. I was currently laying next to a girl that I’ve always wanted to kiss. Years ago she turned me down, but now she was here and I didn’t know what to do. Laura’s breathing pulsed slowly as she reached a form of comfort that I had not yet settled into. My mind was racing. I didn’t want to press my luck, but at the same time she elected to stay over, sleep in my bed with me, but more importantly, Laura after two years sought me out this evening.
The movie came to a close.
Laura shifted and sighed.
Laura giggled for a second.
Lastly, Laura then mumbled, “Brady…”
“Yes?”
“I don’t want to do anything stupid.”
“I didn’t plan on doing anything stupid tonight.”
“Neither did I, it’s just…” her voice stuttered as if she wrote her words down on paper being carried away by the wind, “remember when you tried to kiss me five years ago?”
My memories exploded instantly. How could I forget? It was probably in the top ten list of most disappointing stories that I have when it comes to dating. It was like asking, do you remember the 3rd time you got mugged, but that time was in a different country. Duh.
“I remember,” I said.
“I…," Laura paused, and forever happened once again, "I should have kissed you.”
“Well,” this was it. I was about to break the sanctity of what I assumed was our friendship.
“Well, there’s no time like the present.”
I leaned in and kissed her. There was nothing subtle, nor was there a slow build. Laura had lit the match and tossed it into a vat of bubbling gasoline. Laura pressed her mouth on to mine with delicate force. The pressure of her tongue, the individual nerve endings of her hair sweeping my face and the rusted lock of our intertwined hands struck my heart like a stone. I was peacefully drowning in the sun faded shallows beneath a weeping willow, and I was content.
Our bodies began to naturally push back upon one another, applying pressure and force. Our hands constricted like jaws of a venus flytrap causing my heart to pulse. Laura ripped off her shirt and bra like an unneeded bandaid, and I shed my shirt in equal fashion. There was no more transparency, only the ultimate vulnerability that once existed within the shadow of hope, now revealed in the moonlight. The words from long ago, “Would you mind if…” swept through my memory like a leaf ignited, snapping beneath the weight of the moment. There was no more mystery, and this girl that I had so long wanted to kiss, was in my arms. My face began to swell with tears.
After several moments of kissing every where we wanted, Laura paused, and looked up at me. My eyes, now fully adjusted to the darkness could see her smile. I was the most fucking lucky, stupid, panicked boy in a 1,000 mile radius. Shyly she scooted farther under me and our lungs expanded in sync as if to reach out and touch each other. Softly, she spoke while keeping delicate eye contact, “What do you want Brady?”
I knew exactly what this meant. Her tone was seductive, caring and poised. I could see us in L.A. in her eyes. Us driving down the California One and not to that Decemberist song either. She’d be in the studio, I’d be writing and composing Pop Culture periodicals while maintaining a healthy bartending job. We’d support each other and there would be nothing but a love for creativity and passion in our house. The light of a life well done would finally shine, and we’d be outlines in the distance. Could I now be more than just a fool, and would this be the beginning of my finest hour?
Her words echoed again, “Brady, what do you want?”
My mouth, a bike without a chain, peddled furiously for words. Ten seconds felt like an eternity and an eternity felt like hell. My mind played the entirety of Pedro the Lion’s discography, backwards. I started as a jaded man, who had once watched his love pack her things and drive away to the man who humbled himself before a force that was greater than him. I knew what my body wanted. I knew what that man five years ago wanted; vindication, closure but most of all respect. I knew what lightning would do. I knew what Jeff Goldblum would do.
Therefore, I said the only thing I could say.
“I… I just want to talk.”
“You just want to talk?”
“Yes.”
Laura rolled me over and laid her head on my chest, “Ok,” she said sweetly, “what do you want to talk about?”
I got out of bed, and headed to my closet, “But first, wear this.” I dug through my closet and tossed her my Dinosaur Jr. shirt. It was a very comfortable shirt.
Laura smirked in confusion, “Why this shirt?” she asked.
“It’s because they have this awesome song called ‘Just Like Heaven’ and I feel like it will be relevant later.”
Laura smirked and snorted, "Only you," and then slipped the shirt on.
I climbed back in the bed, sliding my fingers across her temples, tucking her hair behind her ears. She laid back down on my chest, and patted me as if to remind me that I have some speaking to do. I took a deep breath as the moonlight crept along our bodies.
“Listen, I hope this doesn’t sound weird or chauvinistic but I’ve slept with a lot women. I’ve been in love once or twice. But tonight, tonight has been the best night I’ve had with any women in the past two years.
I feel like I can be myself around you, and when I say stupid shit, it doesn’t feel like stupid shit.
I just feel happy, and thankful.”
“You do?” she asked sincerely.
“Yes, yes I do. And I just wanted to tell you that.”
I could feel her smile on my chest, “Thank you Brady. That means a lot to me,” she paused with a genuine sigh, “and I’m sorry I didn’t kiss you back then, I’m sorry it’s taken me this long to be here with you.”
“It’s okay, I’m sorry about the shitty pillow talk…”
“Huh?”
I shrugged, “What guy says, ‘I just want to talk’ right?”
“Oh,” She laughed, “only you.”
“Shut up.”
“So what about L.A.?”
“Let me think about it for a while. But I want you to know that you have my attention.”
“Good.”
The next morning I dropped her off at her car.
Before she got in her car she kissed me and said, “Brady, I don’t regret anything…”
Later that day I called my friend Daniel. Daniel was a wise man, and carried all the traits that a wise man should have. He’s a large man that had a laugh that could fill a whiskey barrel. His beard grew like brown tangled weeds and he had tiny spectacles that he peered over as if he was going to fill a prescription. Daniel was also a new but proud father. But most of all he had a greater insight to the forces unseen. I told him everything. I told him what it was like to feel her say 'no' five years ago, and what it was like for her to ask me to 'go' with her five years later. Even though it was over the phone, I felt like we were inside the library in the religion building again. He stayed on the line, patiently and eagerly awaiting for my breath to run dry. And once it did, he said, “Brady, I think it’s going to be great to talk to you when you're living back in California.” But the second most important thing he told me was that I needed to be aware of choices I make and to be protective of my heart. I need to leave for me, and not to fulfill someone else’s desires. After we hung up the phone, I received a text from Laura. She was back in Ohio and safe. I asked her if we could talk later that night, and she replied “That would be healthy for us to do.”
9:33 p.m., I called Laura Marie on my drive home.
She picked up upon the second ring, and I heard her voice as if it had been a life time since we last spoke.
“Hey,” she said.
“Um, hey.”
There was a pause. “So, I don’t know how to start this,” I said, “But um.”
“Just ask Brady.”
“Okay, so what did last night mean?”
Laura paused, “Brady,” her voice trailed.
“Brady, not to sound disappointing, but it didn’t mean anything.”
9:44 p.m. I was off the phone with Laura.
Thunder is good, thunder is impressive. But it is lightning that does the work.
I was the lighting, but now my words and body feel like empty thunder. But if anything, lightning that misses it mark in a lone an empty field is still brighter than the darkness of thunder. It's just hard to get past the notion that perhaps, I didn't mean anything.
That night Laura told me one thing that I’ll never forget.
Laura told me, “Brady, I love how you can take the simplest moment and make it an incredible story.”
Well Laura, there's your story.
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