REWIND
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“PLEASE LET ME WONDER, IF I’VE BEEN THE ONE YOU LOVED”

DECEMBER 20, 1981

Livvie’s mind was made up, and I couldn’t change it. 

“Look,” she said, “I do not want to break up with you. We can do this. I’ll be home for breaks and the summer. We can do this.”

“I’ve done a long-distance relationship before. It wasn’t much fun. And this is a far bigger distance,” I told her. 

“Does that mean you’re not even going to try?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “I’ll have to think about it.”

“Well, isn’t that just great!”

“Don’t blame me!” I snapped at her. “I’m not the one pulling a last-minute change of plans.”

“You know, you can go with me,” she said. “Not Eastern Michigan, that’s not a good enough school for you. But the University of Michigan is very close by, and that’s a great school.”

“Why on earth would I go to Michigan?”

“To be with me?”

“Well, since you’re going out there, and your mind is made up, you being with me doesn’t seem that important to you, does it?”

“No, that’s not true,” she said. “It’s just that I need a family. I’ve never had one. Now I can have one.”

And on and on. 

Look, part of me understood. But what I saw that she didn’t was that this would be the end of Livvie and me. No doubt in my mind. What I felt, but couldn’t say, was that even if we tried the long-distance thing, she would never stick to it. I’d get a Dear John letter before Freshman year was over. I had no doubt about it. Even with her father out there for her, Livvie would get lonely for male companionship. 

Like I said, I couldn’t say that. It would really upset her.

I guess I figured I’d probably try the long-distance thing. Not exactly how I expected to spend my college years, I’ll tell you that. However, I knew I’d be busy with schoolwork and the band once I got to college. Maybe it’d be better to have a girlfriend but not have to worry about actually spending any time with her. It would be kind of lonely, though. And, like I said, I had no faith she’d keep to it.

On this day, Sunday the 20th, we had a band practice. The gang noticed I was a bit preoccupied--they also noticed Livvie wasn’t there, which was unusual. After rehearsing, I told them.

“Damn, that’s tough,” Michelle said. “Are you going to try a long-distance relationship?”

“I don’t know.” Then I told them what I couldn’t say to Livvie. “Quite honestly, I can’t see Livvie holding to it.”

“I can,” Debbie argued. “She loves you.”

“She also loves to be loved. And I don’t think loved by someone a thousand miles away counts.”

“It might be different with her father there,” Stan pointed out.

“It might. I don’t know,” I sighed. 

“She’s got a good reason for going out there,” Debbie pointed out.

“Yeah, I know. I just wish she didn’t.” 

“Well, if she can keep to it, God knows we’re gonna keep you busy enough,” Stan laughed. “You know, breaking this fantabulous band into the Boston music scene. And that’s beside all that studying you’re gonna have. You won’t have no time to pamper a girlfriend.”

“Is that a warning?” Michelle smirked.

“No, honey. It’s a lot easier to juggle a band and pampering a girlfriend when said girlfriend is in the band,” Stan chuckled.

“Right answer,” Michelle told him.

“He’s well-trained,” I laughed. “Then again, there’s a problem with no girlfriend to pamper.”

“What’s that?” Michelle asked.

“No sex.”

Debbie cracked up. “Maybe you can negotiate just being faithful in love, not sex. You know, tell Livvie she’s got your heart, but you’re gonna loan your dick out. You’ll get laid after every gig.”

I just grinned. “Don’t give him any ideas,” Michelle laughed. 

DECEMBER 25th, 1981

Livvie came over for Christmas. It was, well, strained. 

We kept it together through the gift-opening. We kept it together throughout dinner over my Grandmother’s. Afterwards, driving around, is when it started to unravel.

“All right,” she said as I drove down the street, “tell me what you’re afraid of.”

“Fear is only part of it. Dammit, Livvie, I feel abandoned.”

“Great. Now you know how I’ve felt most of my life.”

“And how is that my fault?”

“It isn’t.”

“Then why am I the one that has to pay for it?” Agitated as hell, I blurted it out. “As for fear, I can’t see you lasting in a long-distance relationship for even a year. That’s what I’m afraid of--the inevitable Dear John letter.”

The icy silence lasted a good minute. “If that’s the way you feel,” she finally said, “well, then, maybe we should just break up now and be done with it.”

“Maybe we should,” I said quietly.

That got to her. “Are you serious?”

“You brought it up.”

“It was a bluff!”

“Well, I just called it. Maybe we should end it now.”

“You’d throw away what we have just like that?”

The anger came back. “The way I see it, you are the one doing that.”

“No. No, I’m not. Look, I said it before--you could go with me. That would solve the whole thing. It’s not too late to apply to Michigan.”

Pissed as hell, I abruptly pulled into a parking lot. “First of all, it is. I applied Early Decision to BC. That means if they accept me, I’m obliged to go there.”

“Oh, yeah.”

“And even if that weren’t the case, you’re missing the damn point. Why would I go to Michigan?”

“For me?”

“Not enough.”

“And you think you’re enough to keep me here?”

“You just don’t fucking get it,” I hissed. “Everything I have is here. Everything. I’m comfortable in this part of the country. I’m a Boston guy. I have a whole family, and it’s here. Plus, it’s not just my family. It’s my friends. It’s the band. It’s everything.” What I couldn’t say is that I learned that the hard way the first time. Going to St. Louis for college, as I did the first time, was a disaster--and I didn’t leave nearly as much behind that time as I would be this time. Anyway, it was something I was sure of. I’d be miserable at Michigan, Livvie or not. 

I took a breath. “You, on the other hand--even if you boil down everything that’s important to you in Boston to just me, it’s still a fifty-fifty shot. Me, or your Dad. You made your choice. How’s that supposed to make me feel?”

“It’s not just that,” she said. “I need to get out of here.”

“Jesus, Livvie, you wouldn’t be living at home if you went to school in Boston! Your father said he’d cover all your costs, no matter where you went, so you’d be in the dorm. It’s not like you’d have your damn mother there.”

“I know,” she said. “I just....it’s hard to put into words. Do you realize all my friends are yours? I’ve not made a single friend on my own. The one time in my life I made a friend on my own, it was Beth, and she did it.” 

“Yeah, I know.”

“I just think I need a little independence, but I also need my Dad. I don’t know if that makes any sense. It probably doesn’t.” She sighed. “You really think I wouldn’t be able to keep a long-distance relationship?”

Calmer, I still was honest with her. “No, Livvie, I’m sorry. I don’t.” 

“Does that mean you won’t try?”

“I’m still trying to decide that.”

“Do you love me?”

“Of course. You know I do,” I said firmly.

“Isn’t that enough?”

I sighed. “Look, I want you to take this the way I mean it, and not as me trying to throw something in your face, OK? Think about what I mean by this.” She nodded. “I love Kara, too.”

She thought for a minute. “Kara and you only ended because of distance? If Kara had gone here, instead of away, you think you’d still be together?”

“The answer to the first question is yes. The second question’s a huge what-if, but probably.” 

“But you’re telling me you never fell out of love with her.”

“I didn’t. And I never will.”

“I don’t get what you’re trying to tell me.”

“I’m trying to tell you that love isn’t enough. Love is one thing. Relationships are another. Love just is. Relationships need nurturing. My feelings for Kara will never change--but the nature of our relationship did.”

“And you think if I go that far away, the nature of our relationship will change?”

“I think it’s a distinct possibility.” 

“OK. I understand what you’re saying.” She took a deep breath. “I hate doing this to you, but I think it’s a chance I need to take.” 

“Yeah, I figured,” I said. 

“I want to try to maintain our relationship. But I’m not going to twist your arm.” She got a wry little grin. “Not that I could anyway. It’s up to you.” I nodded. “What about now?”

“We’re together now, Livvie.”

“OK. Good,” she sighed, with a hint of a smile. “Look, it’s not just my Dad, you know.”

“What do you mean?”

“Mary--she’s Dad’s wife, my stepmother. I was out there for three days and she mothered me more than my own damn mother has done my entire life. And Kerry, my sister--well, being hero-worshiped by a 10-year-old girl was very cool.”

I had to chuckle. “I could work on Erin if that’s what you need.” 

She cracked up. “Are you kidding me? Erin? Your sister Erin? She wouldn’t stoop to hero-worship if Jesus Christ Himself plopped down in her bedroom.”

“Good point,” I had to agree with a laugh. Livvie was right--hero-worship wasn’t Erin’ style. Except if the hero being worshipped was Erin. “Then again, Declan does. Hero-worship you, I mean.”

“I don’t think that’s hero-worship, dear, that’s 13-year-old lust.”

“Can’t argue with that. Anyhow, I understand the reasons for you going. I do. I just feel like it’s a contest that I’ve lost.”

“I know that’s how you feel. But I also know that it’s not true, it’s not why I’m doing this. Eddie, I’m 17 years old, almost 18. I’ve never had a Daddy. And I’m almost getting too old for one.”

“Livvie, now that you’ve found him, he’ll always be your father.”

“I didn’t say father, I said Daddy. There’s a difference.”

“Yeah, I suppose there is,” I agreed. 

JANUARY 10th, 1982

My seventeenth birthday. It was a Friday, so I went to school. When I got home, there it was, sitting in the day’s mail.

The acceptance letter from Boston College.

I was happy. But I wasn’t as thrilled as I thought I’d have been. 

I got a quick call from Michelle, who’d also applied early decision and who got her acceptance letter today as well. 

She was thrilled, which helped me regain my enthusiasm. It was, after all, where I really wanted to go. So, it was a nice talk and we were making plans and joking. “You know, we really should room together,” Michelle laughed. “We’re the best of friends and I know you wouldn’t mind occasionally getting lost when Stan comes to visit.”

“All true, but I don’t think BC lets guys and girls room together,” I laughed. “There’s always Debbie, though. I know she didn’t apply early decision, so she doesn’t know yet, but she should get in and BC is her first choice.”

“We’ve talked about it,” Michelle told me. “We might, but Debbie thinks she wants to room with someone she doesn’t know, you know, to meet new people.”

“I can see that. All the college advice I’ve ever read says don’t room with a hometown friend.”

“Right. And it’s not like Deb and I won’t get sick of each other in band practice!”

So, talking to Michelle made me feel better. Like I said, I really did want to go to BC.

I guess I was just in a funk since Livvie had dropped her bomb.

It was times like this when I truly felt seventeen, not half-seventeen and half-forty seven. Especially in the context of a seventeen-year-old high school senior trying to plan out his life. Because that’s what I was, despite the past life. This was the one I had to live, and in this one, I was seventeen--about to graduate high school, planning for college. 

College was part of it, and plans for that were well underway. But other plans were now becoming more nebulous. Look, even at seventeen, the minute you start dating--especially if you’re a diehard romantic, which I was--you start asking that question about every girl you date: “Is she the one?” 

Then, of course, there’s the bigger question: is there a “one”? 

I was inclined, at this point in my life, to say  no. Don’t get me wrong, I still believed in true love, and I still believed in something akin to soulmates. But what I was beginning to think was that there wasn’t one. I mean, one true soulmate. I think there was more than one, or at least more than one possibility. 

I guess I’d realized that when I had an amicable breakup with Kara. Because if there was only one true soulmate, she was mine. If I believed there was a “one”, I would’ve believed she was it, and wouldn’t have broken up with her quite so easily. And, I guess, realizing I was as happy with Livvie as I had been with Kara only reinforced that belief. 

I will say that thinking along these lines did make Livvie’s impending move a thousand miles away a lot easier to take. Of course, that might just be rationalization!

With all this whirling through my mind, I gave Kara a call. When she’d been home for Christmas, we’d gotten together, and she knew there was something on my mind, but I hadn’t felt comfortable talking about it yet. On this day, I decided to, so I gave her a call. 

“Hey, I was just gonna call you,” she said when she picked up the phone. “Happy birthday!” Good ol’ Kara, she remembered. After a bit of small talk, I hit her with it.

“Oh, man, that’s tough,” she said. “Michigan? That might as well be on the moon. You going to try to have a distance thing?”

“She wants to.”

“And you’re less than enthusiastic.”

“I don’t think she’ll be able to stick to it.”

Kara laughed. “Funny, I don’t think you would!”

“You know me better than that.”

“Yes, true, but let’s face it, Eddie--you’re going to have a whole hell of a lot of temptation.”

“Yeah, right, they’re lining up as we speak,” I snorted.

“You have no idea, do you?” she said incredulously. 

“No idea about what?”

“About what’s gonna happen. Look, you know I love you. I loved you in eighth grade. But it’s a realistic love. I know what you’re about. I love you because you’re sweet and giving and smart and interesting. And you’re a great kisser,” she laughed. “But it was realistic. I knew you for years before I fell in love with you. Plus, if you remember, you had to talk me into that first date,” she laughed. “I figured that’s the way it was with you. Though you’re attractive, you’re not gorgeous, and you can be awkward. I loved you, still do, but I figured you were an acquired taste, that you don’t hit anyone between the eyes.”

“I agree with all that,” I laughed. “But being an acquired taste pre-empts them from lining up at the door. You know what I mean? If that’s the case, I should be able to avoid temptation.”

“I’m not done,” she said. “That’s what I used to think. I don’t think all of that anymore. What you don’t get is you’ve transformed yourself.”

“How did I do that?” I asked, bemused.

“You joined a band,” she said. “You don’t get what you look like up on stage, singing, playing your guitar. Your attractiveness is multiplied by about twenty, and your awkward bit disappears completely. Look, I love the Eddie I’ve always known--but the first time I saw you play, it was like seeing Eddie squared. And you’re gonna go into Boston and start playing the clubs? They are going to be lining up. Guaranteed.”

“You’re exaggerating.”

“No, I’m not.” She took a deep breath. “That first time I saw you guys play? Look, as much as I love Peter--and I do--I almost dumped him on the spot. So I could go attack you. I’ll be honest, the only thing that really stopped me from doing so was Olivia. I knew that you had just gotten together with her, you were happy, and I love you too much to fuck with you like that. But if you’d been single that night? Peter would’ve been history and I would’ve been on you like a leech.”

“You’re kidding,” I gasped.

“No, I’m not. Look, I’ve seen you play a few times and I’m more used to it right now, and I really do love Peter. But, shit, Eddie, it was incredible. Look, you’re a reasonably charming guy in any case. But when you’re on stage? That’s not charm, that’s charisma, and buckets of it. It shoots out of your pores like sparks. I can barely describe it. You’ve no idea how appealing you are onstage. And when you get offstage, then whoever it is that’s pounced on you will figure out all those other cool things about you.”

“I think you’re just biased,” I chuckled.

“You think so? Trust me, I’m not the only girl that’s noticed it. And we’ll be able to test it. Don’t forget, I’ll be attending school 20 minutes from Boston, and it’s an all-girl school.” Kara was going to go to Wellesley. “When you start gigging in Boston, I’ll be there. And I’ll bring friends. They’re going to pounce on you.”

“We’ll see,” I laughed. “Peter’s going to school in Boston?” I said, changing the subject.

“Yeah. Harvard, where else?” she laughed. “Legacy, and all that.” Peter’s father had gone to Harvard, Kara had told me that. “Which is close enough to Wellesley, now that we’re older and have cars and all that. We don’t consider it long-distance.”

“Nope, you shouldn’t, considering one of my band mates is planning on Framingham State, and Framingham’s past Wellesley.”

“Stan?”

“Yeah. Michelle got into BC Early Decision as I did, so at least I’ll have her to go bug.”

“When Stan’s not visiting, you mean,” she laughed.

“Exactly!”

FEBRUARY 24th, 1982

I suppose some of what Kara said had sunk in, though I really wasn’t thinking of it that way. But I did, a little. It’s the age-old question: do you stay with someone because you love them, or because you’re afraid of being alone? Well, if Kara was right, I didn’t need to be afraid of being alone. Now, don’t get me wrong--I loved Livvie. If she were staying local, I wouldn’t be asking myself that question. But I was--because it was do you stay with someone you’re not going to have a real relationship with? 

All this was compounded by the fact that Livvie had insisted on going to Michigan for February break, which had been the previous week. This time, I protested--if she were leaving for good in late August, we should have every minute together we could. And we’d always spent loads of time together on school breaks. She went anyway. 

I guess what had kind of crept into my mind is that I was going to live for me, not for me-and-Livvie. And I felt it was a decision that had been taken out of my hands, which probably made me even more upset about it.

That decision cropped up on this day.

It was a Wednesday. We had band practice. But before we got started playing, Kenny had something to tell us. Kenny had sort of become our defacto booking agent--people tended to go to him with gigs. That was fine with us; he was good at organizing such things, and he enjoyed it. On this day, he had a biggie for us.

“The student council wants us to play the prom,” he said. “Our prom, the Senior Prom.”

“Wow!” Debbie squealed. “That would be so awesome!”

“Would it?” Kenny asked.

“Why wouldn’t it?” Debbie asked. 

“Well, you have to ask that question to your fellow bandmates who have girlfriends or boyfriends,” Kenny asked. “Do you guys want to spend your Senior Prom onstage?”

Stan and Michelle looked at each other and grinned. “Hell, yes!” Stan said.

Dave and Karen shared a similar look. “Of course,” Karen said. “Playing or dancing? That’s a no-brainer. We can still go to the prom. We just won’t be dancing. Who the hell wants to dance?”

“Exactly,” Michelle agreed. “I think we should do the whole bit, though.”

“What do you mean?” Debbie asked.

“I think we should dress up. You think you guys can play in tuxes?” 

We all nodded. “It might be a little hot, but we can undo ties and stuff in the second set,” Stan laughed.

“Right,” Michelle grinned. “So, we treat it as a prom. We get dressed, we show up, get our pictures taken, sit down to eat and all. Just, instead of getting up to dance, we get up to play.”

“That sounds great!” Karen said. 

“Right,” Michelle agreed. “Well, we have the established band couples in agreement, now we just have to hear from the two guys whose girlfriends aren’t in the band.”

“I’ve already talked to Lisa. She’s not much for dancing, either,” Kenny grinned. “She did say something about dressing up, though, so she’ll like Michelle’s idea.”

“Good. Now, how about you?” she asked me.

“I’m in.”

“Shouldn’t you talk to Livvie first?”

“I’m in,” I repeated firmly. “I want to do this.”

“OK,” Michelle said, hesitantly. “We’re gonna play the prom, then?”

We all agreed. In fact, we were all looking forward to it.

FEBRUARY 26th, 1982

Livvie was absolutely not happy. 

We were out, sitting at a roast beef restaurant, when I told her.

“You’re what?!” she hissed. “You can’t!”

“We’re still going to go, Livvie,” I told her. “We’re going to get dressed up and the whole thing.”

“But I want to dance at my prom!”

“That never bothered you before.”

“It wasn’t a prom before!”

“What difference does it make? The big deal with a prom is the whole dressing up thing, and we’re going to do that. Outside of that, it’s just another dance.”

“It’s not another dance for me. And what really bugs me is that you just did this, without even discussing it with me!”

I just looked at her. I didn’t say it, I just looked at her. 

She got it. “OK, so this is some kind of epic revenge?” she asked. “Because I’m going away?”

“No, it’s not revenge,” I told her. “It’s me deciding to do what’s best for me. Just like you did.”

“They’re not the same thing.”

“No, they’re not,” I riposted. “My decision only deals with one night out of our lives. Yours deals with four years.”

She calmed down a little. “Look, Eddie, that’s one of the reasons I wanted the prom. You know, one night for us before I go away.”

“Well, that’s not all that important to me anymore,” I said. 

She looked like I’d slapped her. I felt bad about that, but that’s the way I felt. “I think you should take me home now,” she said in a clipped voice.

“Fine by me,” I shrugged. 

We were driving, and she said, “There’s no way I can talk you out of this?”

“No,” I said. “Could I talk you out of going to Michigan?”

“This is some sort of revenge!”

“No, it’s not.” By that time, we were pulling up in front of her house. “Listen to me. I’m not trying for revenge. I’m just doing what I want to do.”

“Make my prom miserable?”

“No. Make mine not. If I didn’t play and just went to the prom with you, I wouldn’t have a good time.”

“You wouldn’t have a good time dancing with me?”

“OK,” I said with a little grin, “because I’ve been in a band the entire time we’ve been going out, this hasn’t ever come up before. But let me tell you a little secret about myself. I absolutely hate to dance. Hate it, hate it, hate it. Dancing is for people that can’t play an instrument. As Schroeder once said to Lucy, ‘Musicians don’t dance.’ The closest I ever want to get to dancing is air guitar. Shit. What do you think is one of the reasons I’m so damn happy I play in a band? Because I never have to dance!” 

“Oh,” she said, finally flashing at least the hint of a smile. “I didn’t know that.”

“Now you do,” I grinned. “Look, I could grudgingly say yes. And you might, and I said might, drag me out on the floor to dance to a slow song or two. And the rest of the night you’d be badgering me to dance some more and I’d be resistant. Plus, I’m not a good dancer. At all. I’m much better at singing.” 

“I get you. So this really isn’t about me going to Michigan?”

“Not mostly, but I’m not going to lie to you. You going to Michigan has made me less willing to sacrifice my own desires for yours. If you weren’t going to Michigan, I probably would’ve agreed.”

“But grudgingly, and only for me, and you wouldn’t have had a good time.”

“Right.”

“OK. I have to think about this, but I’m less upset about it than I was.” She gave me a genuine grin. “You really hate dancing?”

“Oh, you betcha,” I chuckled. “Look, we’re learning a new song, ‘Only The Lonely’ by the Motels. It’s just out recently. But it’s a slow dance song. And I don’t play on it. It’s my break song,” I laughed. “So, you get one dance.”

“Well, there’s that, then,” she smiled. “I have to think about it.”

“OK.”

She went inside then. I did get a goodbye kiss, at least. 

FEBRUARY 27th, 1982

This day, a Saturday, we had a band practice. We did it early, though, as Kenny had something to do in the afternoon. So we got together about 9:30 in the morning and played until one. 

Afterwards, Michelle, Debbie and I decided to go over to the mall across the street from Stan’s house and get some lunch. Stan was going to come, but his mother loudly reminded him he’d promised to clean up something-or-other. “She never forgets the damn chores,” he grumbled. “You guys go. No hitting on my girlfriend!” he told me. 

“You spoil all my fun,” I grinned. 

“Mine, too,” Michelle twinkled. That even made Stan crack up!

Anyhow, we got over to the mall and decided to hit the Friendly’s. We sat in a booth and chatted through the burgers. I told them about my conversation with Livvie the previous night.

“Man, that’s tough,” Michelle said. “You were kind of asking for it, though, by not even asking her.”

“Yeah, I know,” I agreed.

“She’s right about that--but I’m with you,” Debbie said with a giggle. “Who the hell wants to dance? How freakin’ boring!” 

“That part I do agree with,” Michelle laughed. “I love Stan, but the only thing I dance with is my bass. He’ll get the one dance at the wedding, and that’s my dancing days.” 

“And I’ll bet he agrees wholeheartedly,” I said.

“Oh, no doubt!”

“This is why I’m glad I don’t have a steady boyfriend,” Debbie said. “Far less complications.”

“Hey, everybody in the band except you has a partner, but I’m the only one with a complication,” I said.

“That’s because everyone in the band is dating someone else in the band,” Debbie laughed. “Except for Kenny. And when Kenny says ‘jump’, Lisa asks ‘how high?’” 

That cracked us all up, but I had to say, “That’s not as bad as you think. That works both ways.”

“Tell me one thing that Lisa asked Kenny to do that he’s done,” Debbie said.

“Did you notice he got a haircut?” I laughed. “That was Lisa. Well, it was because her parents freak out, but Lisa asked him to do it.”

“All right, all right,” Debbie laughed. “Lisa and Kenny’s relationship aside, everyone else in the band is dating someone in the band.” She bat her lashes at me. “Maybe you should’ve dated someone in the band.” 

“What? You?” Michelle laughed. “You two would be tearing each other apart within a week if you ever dated!”

“Well, yeah, but the make-up sex would be dynamite!” Debbie said. I was in a full blush by this point!

“You don’t need to date someone to have sex,” Michelle riposted. “Deb, you of all people know that!” 

“True, very true,” Deb said, grinning, still batting her lashes at me.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” I said, still blushing. “You just point your baby-blues elsewhere, Romelski. I’m still taken.”

“Today,” Deb said. 

“Now, now, let’s not tempt the poor boy,” Michelle laughed. “We’re supposed to be helping him fix things with Livvie, remember?”

“We are?” Deb said, all mock-innocence. “That’s not how I answered the poll.” I just glared at her--probably not looking as fierce as I was trying to! “All right, all right,” she grinned. “I’ll stop trying to wheedle my way into your bed.”

“Today,” Michelle laughed. 

“Yeah, you’re a big help,” I said to Michelle. 

“Ain’t I?”

“Seriously, Eddie,” Debbie said, “what do you plan to do?”

“We’re playing the prom. That’s final. The rest of it, I guess I’ll just play by ear.”

“All my kidding aside,” Debbie said, “you know she loves you.”

“To a point,” I said. “Yes, she does, but only to a point.”

“She’s in a tough position,” Michelle said. “You do realize that.”

“I know all that,” I said, slightly exasperated. “And I was trying to see her side of it. Until she gave me the big shitstorm about us playing the prom.”

“Why did that bother you?” Michelle said.

“Because it was like, OK, I want you to do everything my way. Until I abandon you for Michigan.” 

“All right, I see your point,” Michelle said, “but stilll....”

“I don’t know if there’s any ‘but stills’ involved anymore,” Debbie put in. “Because Eddie’s right. Livvie’s got no business bugging him about doing what’s best for him at the prom--because she is abandoning him. If she can do what’s best for her with something as big as going away for four years, the prom’s a minor thing and she should understand.”

“Thanks, Deb. The check’s in the mail,” I joked. 

“She’s just agreeing with you because she’s still trying to wheedle her way into your bed,”Michelle laughed. “No, seriously, Eddie, I do understand why you’re upset.”

“Thanks. Wish Livvie did.”

“She’ll come around,” Michelle said. “Anyhow, changing the subject, how are your grades this year?”

“Just great. Still straight A’s. Even in calculus.”

“I hate your guts,” Michelle laughed. “You’re not going to let me sneak in there for salutatorian, are you?”

“Not on your life!” 

MARCH 13th, 1982

I tried. I really did. Livvie was still upset about the prom. I was trying to make it up to her.

Until today.

Today, I gave up.

I was trying not to take anything personally. I really was. But what she told me today, I couldn’t help it. 

“Oh, by the way,” she said as we were driving in the car, “I’m going back to Michigan for April vacation.” 

I almost drove off the road. “You’re what?”

“Is this a problem?” she said.

“No. No, of course not. Why would it be a fucking problem? You’re going to Michigan permanently in five fucking months. Why on earth would you going out there for another damn week be a problem? Especially when it’s a vacation week. I mean we have all the time in the world, why would you cutting down on that time be a fucking problem?” I abruptly pulled over to the side of the road. “Here’s an idea. Why don’t you just stay there? Finish high school out there. Don’t fucking come back. You’re so eager to get out there with Daddy, don’t fucking bother coming back.”

“You’re upset,” she said.

“No shit.”

“I have to go.”

“Bullshit. Not now, not April vacation, you don’t.”

“I have things to do, things to set up,” she said weakly.

“Like what? It’s too early to register for classes. You’ve already seen the campus.”

“There’s some paperwork I have to sign. For some of the financial stuff, since Dad teaches there.”

“He couldn’t send that stuff out to you and have you mail it back signed?” I snorted.

“Well, I suppose he could. Look, if you don’t want me to go, I won’t go,” she said, although a bit petulantly.

And I caught it. “Oh, no, you don’t,” I snapped. “You’re not going to put that on my head. You already decided to go, again not giving a crap about how I might feel, so go.”

“You’re right, I don’t care how you feel,” she snapped back. “All you’ve tried to do since I told you I was going away to school is make me feel guilty, and try to get back at me.”

“Fine.” I was still pulled over. I quickly pulled into the street. And just as quickly made a U-turn.

“Where are you going?” she said.

“I’m taking you home. You don’t care about how I feel? You don’t have to fucking worry about it any more.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means we’re done. Over. No longer dating.”

She stared straight out the car window for a beat. Then she said, in a near-whisper, “God, that’s not what I want.”

“Probably not. You want to have your cake and eat it too. Basically at my expense. I’ve had it.”

“Look, really, if it means that much to you, I’ll cancel the trip in April.”

“Why? You just said you don’t care how I feel.”

“Well, I didn’t mean it that way.”

We pulled up in front of her house. “I get it,” I said. “What you meant is that you figured I’d just roll over like a puppy. You’ve been thinking that since you decided to go away to school. Jesus, Livvie, do you really think I’m that much of a wimp?”

“No, it’s not that. I guess I don’t understand. If you’re that upset about being away from me for a week, why would you break up with me? Isn’t that cutting off your nose to spite your face?”

“I didn’t break up with you because you’re going away. I broke up with you because you admitted that you don’t care how I feel. And that’s become a pattern. You don’t care. It’s been plain as day for months.”

“I didn’t mean it like that. I do care. I just have to do what’s right for me.”

“You know, that may be a justification for you going out there to school. But going out there for April vacation? It doesn’t work.”

“You’re acting like I’m doing it to deliberately screw you over or something!”

“Yes, I am, aren’t I?” I said.

“You really think that?”

“Yes.” 

“Dammit, Eddie, not everything is about you!”

“And that’s the problem. Nothing is about me. I don’t ever enter your thought process anymore. I don’t expect everything to be about me. But if you’re supposed to be my damn girlfriend, it should sometimes be about me, shouldn’t it?” She didn’t say anything to that--because she couldn’t. “You don’t have to go. And even if you did--you ever think of asking me to come along?”

“Dad’s paying for my ticket,” she said.

“I figured, but you know I have the money to pony up for my own ticket.”

“And I’m staying with Dad.”

“And if he didn’t want me there, I could afford a hotel, too. At least we’d be in the same state for vacation.”

“I didn’t think you’d go,” she finally said weakly.

“But you never even bothered to ask, did you?”

“No. I’m sorry. Eddie, I don’t want to break up with you.”

“I’ll think about it,” I said.

APRIL 25th, 1982

We didn’t break up. But, like I said, I pretty much gave up.

We went out. We spent time together. We even had sex every so often. But my heart wasn’t in it. 

And, because of that, I’ll admit it--I became somewhat of a bastard.

I blew her off if I had something else to do. Barely paid attention to her half the time when we were together. I was just disinterested. And it really wasn’t me trying to punish her or anything like that--I really was becoming disinterested, more and more every day. I guess we were still together more out of inertia than anything else.

Did I love her? Sure. But I didn’t love, or like for that matter, the way I was being treated. I was an afterthought. So I made her one. She didn’t like it. 

I guess it all came to a head the Friday that April Vacation started. She asked me to drive her to the airport--her flight left at 7 pm. She didn’t want to leave her car at the airport all week.

“Sorry, I have plans,” I told her.

“Plans?”

“Plans. I’m going out for dinner and a movie with some friends.”

“Who?”

“Stan, Michelle, Debbie, and DeeDee from up my street. Her friend Ashley might come, too.”

“You can’t postpone that until Saturday or something?”

“Why would I want to?” I told her. “I don’t want you going to Michigan in the first place, so I should cancel my plans to drive you to the airport? How does that make sense?”

“Fine,” she snorted. 

Like I said, I just wasn’t in a nice mood.

It all came to a head on this day. It was a Sunday, and Olivia had gotten back from Michigan that morning. She called me that afternoon, and asked me to come over. 

“I was thinking all week,” she said when I got there, “and I’ve decided that I don’t want to miss my Senior Prom.”

“You’re not going to miss it,” I said.

“By your lights, I’m not. But as far as I’m concerned, I am. I’m done being the adoring girlfriend of mister high-and-mighty rock star. I want to go to the prom with someone that’ll pay some attention to me there. So, I’m going to find another date.”

“If you do that, it’s the end for us,” I said calmly.

“I know,” she replied, just as calmly. “I’m sorry. But we’re not getting along anyway. I’m not going to sacrifice the biggest night of high school for a relationship that’s dying.”

So, that was that. 

Sure, I saw it coming--and I know I helped it along. It was probably for the best. But, damn.

Not for the first time, I rued the day her father ever stepped back into her life.

Damn.

MAY 1st, 1982

I just stuck with the rest of my life.

The gang consoled me, as best they could. I was all right, really. Upset, sure--but I survived other breakups, I’d survive this one. I did love her, yes. But we were moving in different directions. 

“I have one question,” Deb had asked me. “Are you going to be OK up on stage playing at the prom, when you’re looking down and seeing her there with some other guy?”

“Yeah,” I told her. “In fact, I want to make sure we kick some serious ass at this prom.”

“That’s the spirit!” Stan laughed. 

This day, a Saturday, we were practicing. We’d worked on the set list some, adding new songs. We got a surprise this day.

Debbie had already gotten some vocal time in some of the new songs. We’d added The Go-Go’s “Our Lips Are Sealed” to the set, and Debbie was doing Jane Wiedlin’s part. Which was the high harmony throughout the whole song--but also the lead vocal on the middle eight. We’d also worked up a version of “Under Pressure” with Debbie taking Freddie Mercury’s part--and going up an octave with it. It was fantastic. I’d suggested it, and Debbie went with it. I’d heard a bootleg of Bowie doing this song with one of his female backup singers doing the Freddie Mercury part like that, up an octave, so that’s what gave me the idea. Of course, that bootleg was from 2001 so I couldn’t exactly tell Debbie about it! But she got the basic idea and went for it.

However, duets--and backing vocals, which she’d always done--were one thing. An actual lead vocal? That was another. Debbie’d always said she didn’t want to have a lead. Today, she changed her mind. She told us she’d like to sing a song at the prom.

A specific song: “Angel of the Morning.” 

That would take some serious guts--too much, if you ask me. Michelle must have agreed, because she asked Deb, “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Deb smiled. “Let’s just say it’ll be my little good-bye to all my classmates.” 

“If you’re sure,” I said.

“I’m sure.”

So, we worked it up. Deb also played the rather tricky acoustic guitar part--but she did so wonderfully. It sounded good. I just hoped she could get through it without breaking down. To hear the so-called ‘school slut’ who also happened to be one of my best friends singing that set of lyrics--well, it almost made me break down. 

Anyhow, we were running through the list of songs, when Dave came up with a concern. “What are we going to end with?” he said. “We can’t end with ‘What I Like About You,’ not for the prom. We’ve got to end with a slow song, don’t we?”

“Right,” Michelle said. “Dave’s right. What’s the last dance going to be?”

“That’s easy,” I smiled. “’Open Arms.’ Is there any other choice?”

Journey’s “Open Arms” had been out a few months. It had to be the last dance. That was the Big Prom Theme of the early eighties. As cheesy as it was--and it was--it was the only real choice. Half the proms in the USA ended with “Open Arms” in 1982.

“Can you sing it?” Stan asked.

“Is the Pope Catholic?” I joked. “Does a bear shit in the woods?”

“Does the Pope shit in the woods?” Debbie laughed. 

“I don’t know about that one,” I laughed, “but I do know I can sing ‘Open Arms’.”

“Let’s hear it,” Kenny said, and hit the piano intro.

Look--my voice, at the time of the send-back at 42, had deteriorated some. All those years of smoking, no doubt. But I could sing “Open Arms” even at 42. At 17? No problem. My voice is on the high end of the tenor range--and, when I want it to be, it’s a big voice. So, yeah, I could sing Steve Perry songs.

The band wanted to make sure, though, so I obliged them. Kenny played the piano part, and I sang.

Look, they knew I could sing. And they knew about the big voice--we had enough Springsteen songs that showed that off. Plus the odd foray into “It’s The Same Old Song”--nobody’s got a bigger voice than Levi Stubbs and I sang that song well. So, the band knew I could go big.

But big and high? We really didn’t have anything like that in the repertoire. “Open Arms” was big and high. I guess I surprised them a little bit--because when I hit the second verse, with all those swooping high passages, they were all looking at me like I had three heads. 

And after I finished, and they all stared at me in stunned silence for a few seconds, Debbie capped it off by proclaiming, “Oh my God. You just made me wet!”

“Oh, he makes me wet half the time he picks up a microphone,” Karen said with an impish grin, “but that one was especially good.”

“I did not need to know that,” Dave grumbled. 

“Sorry, sweetie,” Karen giggled.  

Debbie laughed. We all looked at her. “I’m just thinking,” she said. “If you’re making the girls in the band wet singing that song--imagine what it’s going to do to your estranged girlfriend!”

“Oy,” I laughed. “So I take it we’re going to end with it?”

“Damn straight!” Stan proclaimed. 

MAY 3rd, 1982

So, at least the band was going well.

As was school. I got the official confirmation of that today. I found out early in the morning when I got called down to the office. Michelle, having heard the call for me to go to the office and guessing why, cornered me at lunch.

“You got it, didn’t you? Salutatorian.”

“Yeah,” I said. “I’d tell you I was sorry--but I’m not.” We both laughed at that.

“At least I lost out to a friend,” she said. “Now you get to write a speech.”

“Yup. At least I have a little over a month to do it.”

“Know what it’s going to be about?” she asked.

“I have a few ideas,” I smiled. 

“Good,” she said. She took a bite from her food, then looked at me again. “I heard through the grapevine that Livvie found a date for the prom.”

“Yeah.”

“You OK with that?”

”What choice do I have? You know, whatever. I can live with it.”

“Yeah,” she said. “It’s too bad, though. You should have a date. I know you can’t dance, but you should have someone to walk in with, someone to eat with, take pictures with, all that. Even if you have to play, you should have a date.”

“I know,” I said, smiling.

Michelle looked at me for a minute, then smiled back. “You have a plan, don’t you?”

“Yup.”

She looked at me for a minute, then the smile unfolded into a huge grin. “You’re going to ask Debbie, aren’t you?”

“Yup,” I grinned back.

“She’ll be thrilled.”

“I hope so.”

I asked her that afternoon. Michelle was right--she was thrilled.

Hey, we were friends. Even if we weren’t playing--if Livvie and I had broken up, I would’ve asked Debbie. We were playing instead of dancing, but outside of that we were going to do all the ‘prom’ things. Even if we hit a post-prom party, she’d be my date there as well. I was happy about it--and so was she. 

At least that was settled.

MAY 15th, 1982

We were practicing, working out the final set list. Prom was less than a month away. 

After running through part of the setlist, Stan called a break.

“We have something we need to talk about,” he said. “After-prom. We were talking about getting rooms at the hotel.” 

“Yeah,” Michelle added. “We need to know who’s in. Stan and I are.”

“We are,” Karen said, pointing to Dave, who nodded agreement.

“You think we can swing this?” Kenny asked Lisa, who was there watching us.

“For prom night? I’ll make sure of it,” Lisa grinned. 

“The parents won’t freak?” Kenny asked.

“I’ll come up with something,” Lisa assured him. “We’re going to a party, or we have to do something with the instruments, or something. Or maybe I’ll just tell them the truth. What are they going to do? I’m a good little girl--mostly--and I turn 18 next week, so what can they say?”

“Ooh, are you getting gutsy all of a sudden?” Debbie teased, cracking us all up--Lisa most of all.

“I love my parents, but they drive me nuts,” Lisa said. “Hey, I’m going to college in, what, five months?” Lisa would be joining Michelle, Debbie, Kenny and me at BC. “And I’m going to college with my boyfriend. They going to watch over me then? Not hardly. So, they can figure out now that I’m not the celibate little girl they think I am.” 

“Good luck,” Kenny snorted, to laughter. “The only problem I have with all that, honey, is you know damn well that if they figure out we’re sleeping together, it will automatically become all my fault.”

“True,” Lisa said. “My parents are under the strange impression that teenaged boys get horny, but teenaged girls don’t,” she laughed. “Don’t worry, sweetie, if they figure it out, I’ll make sure they know what the real story is.”

“Oh, I’d like to be a fly on the wall for that conversation,” Kenny laughed. “’Mom and Dad, I have to tell you that your sweet little daughter is a complete horndog.’ That one’s gonna go over real well!”

“Ah, well,” Lisa laughed. “Anyhow, count us in on the rooms.”

“OK, that’s three,” Stan said.

“Make it four,” Debbie piped up.

“Oh, God,” Michelle groaned. “You’re going to try to pick up someone? At the prom? You shameless hussy.”

“Oh, you know a few guys, at least, will be going stag, so I’m sure I could pick someone up without breaking any girls’ hearts,” Debbie said. “But, no. This is a band thing. Those rooms have two beds. The other one in my room belongs to our lead singer if he wants it.” 

“Oh,” I said, surprised.

“That’s a good idea,” Michelle said. “Hey, we’re going to party in one of the rooms right after the prom. Then we’ll go sleep it off. And do other things. Especially if we’re Lisa!” Lisa broke up at that. “But even if you’re not going to do other things, we really should all be together.”

“You’re right. I’m in,” I said. “Thanks, Deb.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“I know it’s a sacrifice for you, not getting laid on prom night,” I teased.

“Well, it’s a special night--why not do something different?” Deb laughed.

“We should ask the hotel if we can keep the instruments in the ballroom overnight--locked up, preferably,” Stan said.

“I’ll take care of it,” Kenny said. 

JUNE 10th, 1982

Prom night.

It was the end of Senior Week. There had been a class picnic on Monday, a trip to Canobie Lake Park--an amusement park in southern New Hampshire--on Tuesday. Prom night was Thursday. It would be a busy weekend--Win Craymore was having a graduation bash on Saturday up at the Estate. We were playing it. Sunday was graduation. And, yes, my speech was all set. 

We’d gotten through the last month of school. Not without some heartache for me--Livvie was parading around the school arm-in-arm with her apparent prom date. Well, fuck it. My buddies pumped me up. I got a few ‘keep your head up’ phone calls from Kara. Even Kelly came over to me one day and asked how I was--that was nice. She was going to the prom with a friend--”No big romance, but we’re friends and he says he can dance!”--and was very glad we were playing it. 

Senior week was fun--the band stuck together. Kenny was a bit at a loss, since Lisa didn’t go to Cabot High. She’d be graduating a week after us. “At least I get two proms,” Kenny laughed. But she wasn’t around for senior week--even if Kenny had been able to get her in to some of the stuff, it wouldn’t be possible, because this was her finals week. At least, as she’d told us, she didn’t have any finals on Friday, the day after the prom! But Kenny was a bit at a loss for the picnic and the trip to Canobie Lake, so he hung out with Debbie and I. Our two band couples were, of course, stuck to one another like glue!

Anyhow, that all ended--and it was prom night.

We got there in the afternoon to set up the equipment. After that was done, we went to get ready.

We decided not to do the limos this time--the hotel rooms cost enough money! So, after I got changed into the tux, I took my car to pick Debbie up. 

If anything, she looked better than last year! She’d gone for spaghetti straps instead of sleeveless, but it was a nice rose-pink color. And, as I said to her, “That’s some impressive cleavage on that dress!”

“Picked it out just for you,” she smirked.

Anyhow, her parents took the obligatory roll of pictures. Then we went back to my house so my parents could take their roll. After that, it was off to the prom.

We got to the prom, got those pictures taken, then found our table. Stan and Michelle had beaten us there. The rest of the crew showed up shortly thereafter. We ate, chatted a bit, and then it was time to play. 

Our collective classmates had a chuckle when they saw us getting up to play outfitted in the traditional prom garb. So, I figured I’d say something. “Hey folks, welcome to our grand experiment--figuring out if you can play rock music dressed in tuxes and prom dresses!” 

“Hey, if they can dance in ‘em, we can play in ‘em, right?” Stan said, cracking everyone up.

“Good point,” I laughed. “Everybody ready? Here we go. One, two, three, four....” And, with that, Debbie and I hit the opening riff to “Message in a Bottle.”

We started off as usual--with “Message”, followed by “Prove it All Night.” After that, Michelle’s first song of the night was now “Our Lips Are Sealed,” though Debbie sang on it so much it was almost a duet. It went over well, especially with all the girls there! Then back to a couple of standbys. The first was “Here Comes My Girl.” I stepped up to the mike and said, “You know what? I don’t have anyone to sing this song to anymore. Ah, fuck it!” Debbie giggled--and pointed with her eyes to Olivia, who was sitting at a table with her date looking none too happy. I didn’t say what I said for her benefit--it just came out. Ah, well--as I had just said, fuck it.

We did one slow song--and then Debbie stepped up to do “Angel of the Morning.” She told me she wanted to get it over with early. She got a round of applause when people realized she was gonna sing a song. But when people realized what song, everything just stopped. Nobody was talking, nobody was doing anything--nobody was even dancing. They were all just watching Debbie, all unruffled dignity, play and sing her way through that song. When she was done, the place exploded. And she didn’t break down. 

After that, we whipped through some familiar stuff--Because The Night, Loving Feeling--and some stuff we’d just worked up. The Beatles’ song this set was “Drive My Car.” In the second slow section, we put “Tempted,” by Squeeze, a song I love singing. And we ended off the set with me growling my way through the way-too-low-for-me “Pretty In Pink.” I got through it anyhow	!

We absolutely blew through that first set. It was 45 minutes and seemed like about 10. It just flew by. We were damn hot that night.

It continued when we took the stage for the second set. We kicked that set off with “The Waiting” into “Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic.” We were absolutely nailing it--every note, everything. Then we proceeded to nail “Tiny Dancer”--and, yes, keeping that in the set was a little bit of a message to Olivia, since that was her favorite song. After that, we did “God Only Knows”.

The second set, like the first, flew by. We did “Two Hearts”. We absolutely nailed “Centerfold” by the J. Geils Band, after which Debbie stepped to the mike and said, “You’ll all be singing that song about me in ten years.” Michelle did a new Pretenders’ song, “Talk of the Town,” and did one of her standbys, “Sara.” The new slow song in that set was “Waiting For A Girl Like You” by Foreigner, which got a big cheer. The Beatles’ song was “I Feel Fine.” After “Bang A Gong” and “Good Girls Don’t,” we went into “867-5309,” which was one of the current big hits. We ended the second set with ELO’s “Don’t Bring Me Down.”

“You know what?” Michelle said in between sets while we were gathered at our table, “Tonight we might just be the greatest band in the world.”

“I know,” Debbie agreed. “It’s like magic. We found a gear I didn’t even know we had.”

“Well, let’s go see if we can find another one, hm?” Stan said.

We kicked off the third set with a Journey song. Once the gang found out I could sing “Open Arms,” they said we should add “Don’t Stop Believin’” to the set. We started the third set off with it--and I kicked ass, and got a big ovation. Michelle picked things up with “Only The Lonely” by the Motels. After that, we did one near and dear to my heart--”Cynical Girl,” by Marshall Crenshaw. It was the most obscure thing in our whole setlist, but I loved it and enjoyed singing and playing it. 

We kept “Bette Davis Eyes” and “Cadillac Ranch” in the third set. We added Huey Lewis’s “Do You Believe In Love.” Even though it was a prom, we still did “Love Stinks,” which got a laugh. Then we ended the third set with two new songs. First was an absolutely hellacious blast through the Talking Heads’ “Once In A Lifetime.” Everybody danced, and everyone went nuts. Then, we ended the set with “Under Pressure.” Debbie absolutely wailed the Freddy Mercury part, and we left the stage to raucous applause. 

The final set got underway with another new song, “Since You’re Gone” by the Cars.  Most of the fourth set was the old stand-bys: Dreams, Go Your Own Way, the 12-string set, When A Man Loves A Woman. We tore through them. 

The Big Finish kicked off with “She Loves You,” which got everyone bopping along. We did “Brown Sugar” and “Born To Run,” as usual. Michelle sang, “I Love Rock and Roll,” which went over very well. Then we did the usual closing numbers, “Rock and Roll High School,” and “What I Like About You.”

But, of course, we weren’t done.

“OK, folks, we’ve got one more. Since it’s the prom, we have to end with one more slow dance, right? So, everybody on the dance floor. Trust me, you all know this song!” Kenny hit the piano intro, and I started right into “Open Arms.”

I absolutely completely fucking nailed it. I mean, not a fraction of a note out of place. It might’ve been the most perfect vocal performance of my life. Either life. 

And, yes, Livvie noticed. Believe me, I saw the look on her face.

Everybody danced. When we were done, the applause was deafening. 

Afterwards, Stan summed it up. “That was just about perfect.”

We all got together in Stan and Michelle’s room. Somehow Stan had gotten his hands on a case of beer. With eight of us, that wasn’t a lot, but it was enough to get mellow. We hung out for a while, just chatting and rehashing the night. After a while, Kenny and Lisa went to their room. Shortly thereafter, Karen and Dave did the same. Debbie and I knew Michelle and Stan wanted to be alone, so we went to our room right after Karen and Dave did.

“I have got to get out of this dress!” Debbie giggled the minute we got to the room.

“I know what you mean,” I laughed, picking at my tux.

“I’ll take the bathroom, since it’ll take me longer.” She grabbed the bag she had brought and took it to the bathroom. She came back out and turned her back to me. “Before I go in there, could you help me with this zip?”

“Sure,” I said, and unzipped her dress for her. 

“Thanks. Be right back.”

She went into the bathroom, and I started getting out of my tux. After a few minutes, I heard her call from the bathroom.

“Hey, Eddie. Do you believe in magic?”

Well, I couldn’t pass up an opening like that, could I? I immediately started singing. “Do you believe in magic, in a young girl’s heart.....”

“Oh, stop it!” Debbie shouted, laughing, from the bathroom.

“Hey. You give a lead singer an opening like that, what do you expect?”

“OK,” she said, still in the bathroom. “Let me rephrase it, then. Do you believe in the concept of a magical night? One where things that aren’t supposed to happen do?”

“I dunno. What do you mean?”

“Well, I mean, like us, the band. Did you see what we did tonight? We went to a place we’ve never been.”

“We’re getting better, Deb. We’re young, I’d expect us to get better as time goes on,” I chuckled.

“Maybe. Or maybe the whole Prom thing got us to a level we couldn’t have gotten to on our own. Maybe it was magic, a magic night.”

“Maybe.”

“Good,” she said. “Eddie? I don’t want the magic to end. Not yet.” Before I could ask what she meant by that, the bathroom door opened, and she stepped out. 

Wearing a black babydoll nightie and matching panties that left very, very little to the imagination. My jaw hit my chest!

“Well, how do I look?” she said, grinning.

“Stunning. Is this for me?”

“You betcha,” she said. She sat down on one of the beds. “I want a night. I want tonight. We’ve joked about it enough. But this time I’m serious. We’ll never be more than friends, we both know that--Michelle was right, we’d kill each other,” she laughed. “But I want one night. I’m unattatched--and so are you, for the moment. But I figure that won’t last, so tonight it is.”

“You figure it won’t last? What, you think I’m going to find someone else right away?” I laughed.

“Oh, I know you,” she said. “And I know Livvie, too. Now that she’s had her big night at the prom--and did you notice her date wasn’t all that interested in dancing? Boy, did that serve her right,” she giggled. “Anyhow, since she had her big night, I predict she’s going to come crawling back sometime this weekend. And you, because you are a complete sap, will let her.”

“You think?”

“Tell me you won’t. Especially if she grovels.”

“It’d have to be a hell of a grovel.”

“Oh, she’ll pour it on. Anyhow, that’s my prediction. So, this is the perfect chance for us to rip the sheets up together. I want it, and I’m betting you do as well.”

“Well, if I didn’t before I saw that getup.....” I laughed.

“Good, it worked.”

“Sure did,” I agreed. “And, you’re right--we should do it at least once. One problem, though--I don’t have anything.” 

“Well, I’m on the pill, but I prefer a fail-safe anyhow. And since I planned this....” She reached over into her purse and withdrew a box of rubbers.

“I should’ve known,” I grinned.

“Good. Now get over here!”

I have to admit it--I wasn’t completely taken by surprise. Right when Deb suggested we share a room after the prom, I knew that her doing something like this was, at least, a possibility. All the jokes had an undercurrent of seriousness in them, and I knew it. And, quite frankly, that held true for jokes from me, too. Especially now that I was single--I was attracted to Debbie physically. Always had been. And, like she said, we were the best of friends. I don’t need to be in love to have sex, but some emotional connection is necessary. 

Debbie and I had one--as close friends and bandmates. Coupled with the undeniable physical attraction--that was enough for me!

And I’m glad she’d brought condoms. AIDS was just starting to be talked about--and at this point it was the ‘gay disease’--but I knew better. And Debbie was promiscuous. Better safe than sorry--luckily, even without knowing what AIDS was going to turn into, Deb agreed. I was also glad she’d said that she preferred a fail-safe. I hope that was always--I didn’t want anything nasty to happen to her either.  

So, I let her lead me down the golden path, so to speak. We ended up in a clinch on the bed, our tongues dueling as she rolled on top of me. I reached up and slipped my hand under that nightie, so I could get my hand on one of those impressive boobs. 

“My goodness, you’re built,” I said.

“I could say the same,” she laughed, running her hand up and down my bicep. I almost cracked up at that--thinking that she never would’ve been able to say that the first time around! 

I reached for the hem of her nightie. “I wanna see those things,” I laughed.

“You and every other guy in school.”

I abruptly stopped--thinking of her history, and all the reasons she chose to sing “Angel of the Morning” tonight. I took a breath, and looked at her. “Deb, if you’re going to lump me in with all the rest of those guys, we’re not going to do this. I think more of you than that, and I don’t want you to forget that.”

She smiled at me. “Eddie, I know that. And, no, I do not and will not lump you in with the rest of them. You’re a friend, a true friend. You realize this is the first time I’ve ever gone to bed with someone I really truly liked as a person? Hell, I’ve rarely been to bed with someone I really knew as a person. So, no, this is different. A lot different.”
 
“OK,” I smiled.

“But, you have to admit,” she giggled, “around Cabot High, my tits are sort of a tourist attraction.”

“Well, I can see why,” I chuckled. I reached down again and quickly stripped her nightie off. And gasped. “Shit., now I can really see why!”

“They are my best asset,” she said.

“No, dear. They’re not. That’d be the ability to play every instrument known to man,” I said. She grinned at that, pleased. “These are quite impressive, however.” Whereupon I leaned over and took one into my mouth.

“Oooh!” she shrieked, and started wiggling under my ministrations. I drubbed her nipple with my mouth, getting a nice yelp for my troubles. 

As I kept up nibbling on her boob, something became quickly apparent--this was gonna be loud. Not that I minded, but we were in a hotel!

After a bit of tongue work on her boob--and a lot of yelps and wheezes--I pulled off. “Well, that gives the lie to the cliche.”

“What cliche?” she asked.

“The one that says that the smaller ones are more responsive.”

“Oh, God, not in my case,” she laughed. 

“I noticed.” I went back to work, getting more happy yelps. While I did that, I gently slipped a hand under her panties. Boy, was she soaked!

“Hold up a minute,” she said just after she started panting. “You need to...wait a minute. First, get up here.” I lifted my face to hers--whereupon she kissed the living daylights out of me. 

“Wow,” I said after she broke the kiss.

“Thank you,” she laughed. “Now. The reason I told you to stop in the first place.” I was wearing my usual sleeping attire--a tee shirt and shorts--and she started tugging on the hem of my tee shirt. “I want you naked,” she giggled. 

“Well...” I said, and reached down for her panties.

“One at a time,” she laughed. “Let me.” She got my tee shirt off, then reached for my shorts. 

OK, I guess I was never going to get over my self-consciousness about my less-that-prodigious size. And it was worse with a girl as experienced as Deb was. Luckily, she didn’t seem to care--considering she looked at it and said, “Yum!”

“Thanks,” I said. “Now let me have my yum,” I said, and reached again for her panties. She laughed and lifted her hips to help me out. “Blonde all over,” I commented.

“What, you thought it was from a bottle?”

“No, but this clinches it. Now shut up and kiss me again.”

“Gladly,” she said, and then she did. Her hand reached down and grabbed my dick at the same time that mine moved down to gently fondle her pussy. Her mouth opened to let my tongue in. She moaned into my mouth as I rubbed her pussy. After a few minutes of that, I broke away from her mouth and went for her boob again. 

“Oh, that feels wonderful,” she moaned, “but I hope you’re going to keep going lower.”

I grinned up at her. “No blushing violet you.”

“Well, I do remember you once bragging to me how good you were at that. So I’m just expecting you to put your money where your mouth is.”

“Put your pussy where my mouth is, you mean,” I quipped, cracking her up. “Don’t worry, I’ll get to it. I like to savor the appetizer before I move onto the entree.”

“Funny, I thought pussy-eating was the appetizer.”

“That’s because you’ve never had me do it to you.”

“Oh, this better be good!”

“You just wait. Trust me.” And with that, I went back to her boob.

“OK, I admit it,” she gasped. “If you’re as good at that as you are at this...” I just grinned to myself and kept at her boobs. 

I didn’t want to keep her waiting too long, however, so after a couple more minutes at her boob, I started kissing my way down her stomach. She sighed happily and spread her legs. I took my time going down her stomach--I loved doing that--but I was heading directly for paydirt the whole time. I thought about skipping by and going for a knee as a tease, but she was squirming so much by that point I think she would’ve killed me!

So, I didn’t dawdle. From the first lick up her pussy, she was shuddering. And, boy, was she wet! Her juices completely covered my tongue from the first pass! Not that I minded. 

Seeing how worked up she was, I only went up and down her pussy lips a couple of times, before I headed for her very prominent clittie. I hadn’t realized how big it was until I bumped it with my tongue. Jesus! This was by far the biggest clit I’d ever encountered, in either life. No wonder she was so damn horny--what with this thing to satisfy! After a couple of bumps with my tongue, I was able to wrap my lips right around it and suck. 

It quickly became very apparent that my prediction--that she was going to be loud--was right on. The minute my lips wrapped around that clittie, the volume started increasing. When I drummed my tongue on her clit while sucking on it, the screeches began to approach a crescendo. 

“Oh, God! Eddie! Oh! Eddie! Eddie! ED-EEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

Shit, I think that one was audible in downtown Boston!

I let her come down from that one--and went for two. “Oh, God, again?” she yelped. 

“You betcha,” I told her, and dove back in. Since she’d gotten a good one, I meant to savor this one. So, I eased off her clit, so she’d come down some, and went back to nuzzling my tongue into her labia. 

She was still running like a river, and squirming like a trapped cat. And the yelps were starting up again. But I still took my time, savoring her juices as I lapped up and down her pussy. After a few, I stopped at the bottom and stuck my tongue into her opening, producing a nice wriggle-and-screech. 

You know what? This was fun! She was responsive and willing and eager and all that good stuff. And she was clearly enjoying my attention.

I pulled out of her opening and resumed dragging my tongue up and down her labia. After a few strokes, I went for her clit. I kept that up, nudging her prominent clit with my tongue every third stroke or so, working her back up. When the yelping started to get more pronounced, I zeroed in on her clit, keeping at it until she screamed out her next orgasm. 

I crawled up next to her on the bed while she came down from that one. After a few minutes, she opened her eyes, looked over at me, and grinned. “OK. You weren’t lying. You are damn good at that.”

“Told you.”

“Yes, you did,” she laughed. “And, you know, I’ve been told I’m pretty good at reciprocating that bit.”

“Oh, really?”

“Definitely,” she said. And, before I knew it, she was leaning over me with my dick in her mouth. 

OK, she wasn’t whistling Dixie. She was damn good. She used just the right amouth of pressure, and knew when to back off from the head and work the shaft. She bobbed up and down on my dick for a while, then backed off and lapped at the head. Then back to the bobbing. 

She knew her shit.  It’s not the easiest thing for me to cum from a blowjob--I came in absolutely no time from Deb’s efforts. 

“Uh-oh, I killed it.” she said after she’d swallowed.

“That won’t last long,” I laughed. “C’mon up here and give us a kiss.”

“I still got sperm-breath.”

“Like I care?” I laughed. “Besides which, I still got all your pussy drippings on my chin.”

“Goody!” she giggled, and then kissed the daylights out of me again. She ended up on top of me, kissing, and we were just kind of fondling and rubbing bodies together. A few minutes of her nipples drilling into my chest--not to mention her hand rubbing away at my dick--and I was at full-staff.

“Told you,” I said. 

“Yes, you did,” she agreed with a laugh. She reached over to the table and grabbed one of the condoms she’d brought. I thought she’d hand it to me, but she didn’t. She broke open the wrapper and pulled it out, then she reached down for my dick. 

“Oh, how helpful,” I teased.

“Just an excuse for me to get my hand on your dick,” she teased back.

“Like you need an excuse,” I countered. 

She laughed. “Damn, you’re fun in bed.”

“Sex is supposed to be fun, right?”

“In theory. Most guys are either just concerned with their own orgasm, or they’re all nervous.”

“I’m not nervous because this certainly isn’t close to my first time, and also because we’re friends. As for the other thing--if that’s all I wanted, I could just jerk off.”

She laughed. “You sure you’re a guy?”

“Positive. And since I’m all ready, all you have to do is lie back and you’ll know for sure I’m a guy.”

“Goody!” she laughed, and got herself situated on the bed. I hovered over her, and slipped right into her. 

“Mmmmmm,” she hummed as I hit bottom. “Oh, that’s good.” Whereupon I made sure to grind myself on her clit--and her little hum got a lot louder and rose three octaves!

I started a slow and steady pace. Debbie obviously liked it, what with all the “Oh, Eddie!” squealing I was getting. When I sensed she was getting into it, I picked up the pace. 

Her vocalizations went right with me. “Oh! Oh! OH! OH! OOOOOOOHHH! EDDIE! EDDDEEEEEEEEEE!”

Man, I hoped this hotel room was soundproofed! 

Since she’d given me a blowjob not long before, I knew I could last a while. So, she beat me across the finish line. And if there had been a glass in the room, it would have shattered!

Jeez. I’d been with some girls that voiced their pleasure enthusiastically, but Debbie absolutely took the cake. No wonder she was a complete nymphomaniac.

After she came, I slowed down for a bit to let her catch her breath. Then I started up again.

“Oooooh!” she gasped. “More? You stud!” I just grinned at her and kept going. She howled out her second before I got there.

I collapsed beside her and she crawled into my arms, still breathing heavy.

“Boy,” she said after she caught her breath. “That was great. I usually don’t get to two from that. And four altogether is just about unheard of.”

“Stamina’s my strong suit.”

“That’s a good strong suit to have,” she giggled. “Though, I have to tell you, that’s not your number one strong suit.”

“What is?”

“Tempo,” she laughed. “You know exactly when to speed up and when to slow down and all. You fuck like a rhythm guitarist.”

I cracked up. “Well, that’s good, because you orgasm like a soprano.”

“True, all true. Michelle and Stan are in the next room, aren’t they?” I nodded. “Yeah, well, we’re gonna get grilled. Because I bet they heard me.”

“I think the whole hotel heard you.”

“I’m not shy.”

“No, you are not.”

“Eddie? Thanks. I’m so glad we did this. It was everything I’d expected.”

“Ditto, and ditto.”

We curled up together under the blankets.

“Sing me to sleep,” she said.

I thought for a minute--and then launched into “Crazy Love.” She giggled through the first verse--and then picked up the harmony on the second.

We fell asleep right after.

JUNE 11th, 1982

I woke up to find Debbie sprawled all over me. I didn’t mind at all. Well, I wouldn’t have minded if I didn’t have to pee. And she was completely on top of me. I had to gently wake her up so I could go to the bathroom.

When I got back, she was lying on the pillow--still stark naked, as was I--and blinking at me sleepily. “Sorry,” I said to her, “but you were right on top of me and I really had to go.”

“I know,” she said, and then yawned. “Time is it?”

“Eight.”

“We’re meeting the rest of them for breakfast?”

“At 9:30.”

“Good, that gives us a half-hour to shower and get dressed.”

“Your math is off, it’s an hour and a half.”

“No, because I have plans for that first hour. Get back in this bed.”

“Oh, twist my arm,” I laughed, and crawled back into the bed.

After another roll in the hay for the first hour, and a rather fun mutual-shower, we headed down to breakfast, arm-in-arm.

“Regrets?” she asked.

“Not a one,” I said. “Look, I’m partially to blame for Olivia and I breaking up. I know that. But we did break up, and she was with someone else last night at the prom, right?”

“You think she did something else besides go to the prom last night?”

“Don’t know--and more importantly I don’t really care. And I don’t mean that in a callous way--it’s just not my business anymore.”

“Even if you guys get back together?”

“Yeah. When you’re together, you’re together--but when you’re not, you’re not. That’s the way I look at it.”

“Good. I want to make sure this doesn’t affect our friendship. And if you had regrets....”

“No worries, Deb. Nothing will affect our friendship.”

“That’s what I wanted to hear.”

We got down to breakfast and met up with the rest of the guys. And, yes, Michelle quizzed us--because she’d heard the screaming!