REWIND 
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“I SAID, I’M SO HAPPY I COULD DIE; SHE SAID DROP DEAD THEN LEFT WITH ANOTHER GUY”

JUNE 13th, 1982

Graduation Day.

We’d played Win Craymore’s bash the day before. It was a blast, as always. We were still riding he wave of awesomeness we’d found at the prom. We blew through five sets--one more than we usually played--and everyone was dancing and having a good time. As a little nod to Deb, I asked the gang if they knew “Do You Believe In Magic?” They did, so we threw it into the second set. Deb couldn’t stop grinning while she was banging away at her guitar. 

So, all that was left to our high school careers was this, Graduation Day. 

It started at 11:00 AM. We all filed in to the football stadium--luckily, the weather held. The graduating class was about 450 people, and with all the family and friends, if they’d had to go inside the number of people allowed would’ve been severely curtailed. That’s why they used the football stadium, weather permitting; and they’d gotten a tent, so the weather would have to be really horrendous for it not to be outside. This year there were no such worries--it was warm and sunny.

I sat up front since I was one of the speakers. Which wasn’t my choice, believe me--I’d prefer to sit with my pals. Luckily, I got to sit with one--the award-winners also sat up front, and Michelle was receiving the class award for social studies. So, we sat next to each other, making each other laugh with our usual pithy comments.

The vice principal did a few introductory comments, then they handed out the awards (I also got one myself, for biology.) Then it was time for the speakers. The valedictorian would go last. Me, the salutatorian? I got to go first. Joy. Believe me, public speaking was not my forte. Right before I went up, I turned to Michelle and said, “I wonder if there’s any way I can sing this speech.” She cracked up.

Unfortunately, no, I wasn’t going to get away with singing this speech. I just reminded myself that, however much I disliked public speaking, this was going to be infinitely easier than the last time I’d had to do it. Plus, I just realized that the whole school knew The Narcoleptics--so I’d just given myself a good opening line.

I got up there and used it. “I hate public speaking,” I said without preamble. “If I’m up on stage I want a guitar strapped on. Any way I can sing this?” I said, waving my speech. It worked--big laughs. That’s one for Ed.

I had a few more. I knew I was going to need them, because the speech was going to be very un-funny in spots. I started out with the funnies. “OK, since I can’t sing it, here goes. Good morning, classmates, faculty members, friends and family, honored guests, and anyone I’ve forgotten. I’m Ed Bovilas, and I’m your salutatorian. You may ask, how does one get to be salutatorian? They ask you to spell it. If you can, you’re it.” That one went over better than I thought it would!

“A lot of people are probably surprised to see me up here. Those are the people that’ve never been in class with me, but know who The Narcoleptics are.” Big cheer. That surprised me! “Uh-huh. You guys just remember all that love when we release the first album,” I ad-libbed, to good effect. “Anyhow, there are some people that are surprised to see Mister Rock and Roll up here ranked second in the class. Of course, there are far, far more of you that were shocked when you saw Ed The Geek up on stage with a guitar.” After the chuckles, I inserted, “Of couse, not nearly as many who were surprised to see Michelle Pepper up there!” Another good round of laughs, and a nice blush from Michelle! 

“Anyhow, I’ve lived an interesting high school existence, because it’s been rather schizophrenic. Good student geek by day, rock and roller by night, that sort of thing. But, you know what? It’s been great, in ways I didn’t anticipate.

“Some of you have known me since elementary school, or junior high. Those who have may remember that up until seventh grade, all I was was just a good student geek. And I was picked on a lot. Even after I took steps to decrease being picked on, I was still geeky and somewhat isolated, and I’m always going to be a good student. As I said, it’s isolating. And it also made me somewhat wary.

“Some of what happened with The Narcoleptics changed a lot of that. Look, I have to tell you--we did this as a lark. We all liked playing, and we knew there was some talent there, but we didn’t expect it to become what it has. We’re happy as clams about it, believe me--but I think it took us all by surprise. I can see at least a couple of my bandmates nodding in agreement, so it wasn’t just me,” I chuckled. 

“I think, because it took off fairly quickly, some of you were surprised. I think you suddenly saw a side of me, or Michelle, or Debbie Gomelski, or any of us, that you hadn’t known existed. The cool thing is, that worked both ways. Because of the Narcoleptics, I was approached by people I might have otherwise been wary of in my isolation.

“I’ve learned a lot, about myself and about other people. I’m less wary, less isolated, and a hell of a lot better adjusted. That’s almost the perfect high school existence, all things considered.

“Now. we’re all headed to college. It’s going to be a new thing for all of us, but I feel pretty prepared for it. And a lot of that is because of my experiences here at Cabot High. They’ve prepared me very well for the road ahead.

“So, I thank you all for cheering us on, for seeking us out, for inviting us to play your parties and dances and whatnot. It’s been wonderful. I’ll never, ever forget the prom. That night was something special.” Got more cheers for that one. 

I took a deep breath, because things were about to get tougher. “In return, for those thanks, I’d like you to do something for me. I’d like you all to think about friendship.

“I have a lot of them--more than I ever thought I would. At different levels, sure. The seven of us in the band are tight as can be, and I have a couple more extremely close friends. Past that, there’s people I’m not as close to. But I’ve made a lot of friends at all different levels. I cherish all of them. I can see most of you out in the crowd tonight.

Another breath. “However, if I’m talking about friends, and if I’m acknowledging all my friends that are filling up all the seats out there in front of me; well, I also have to talk about the empty seat.

“I have to talk about the friend that isn’t here. I can’t let this day go by without mentioning that, in a just world, my best friend, Beth Trovini, would be out there. She’d be sitting out there, waiting to get her diploma, making silly faces at me as I tried to get through this speech. And she should be here. But she’s not.

“So, I’m going to ask you to think about friendship. We’re all going different places in September. We’re going to have friends that we might not see as much, might not have the connection we once did. That’s understandable. It’s natural. But it’s also avoidable.

“If I can give all of you any advice as we go forward into this big world, it’s just that: cherish your friends. Cherish them with all your might. 

“Part of the fun of graduating with friends is watching them. I was grinning like an idiot when Michelle got her social studies award. I’ll be grinning like an idiot when my other friends get their diplomas. When all those names are called--Stan Murvetsin, Debbie Gomelski, Danica Rosen, all my friends--I’m going to enjoy it thoroughly. I’m glad I get to share this day with my friends, hear their names called, watch them get up here.

“But there’s one name I won’t hear, so I’ll say it now: Elizabeth Marie Trovini. 

“Thank you.”

I got off the stage to a fine ovation. Of course, I knew part of that is because I kept the speech relatively brief! But I also saw a few moist eyes from those who’d known Beth. And Michelle gave my arm a squeeze when I got back to my seat.

After I did my bit, it got boring, of course. The only speech I was interested in was my own! And having 450 people traipse up there to get diplomas took a while. Some of that was fun, though. Stan played air guitar as he was walking across the stage! 

After all the speeches, the day was finally over. A few of us, the band and a few friends, were headed over to Debbie’s for a small cookout-type thing. As I was headed out of the stadium, however, I got waylaid.

By Olivia.

“Hey,” she said. “I’d like to talk. Is that possible?”

I’ll tell the truth--part of me wanted to say no. A big part of me wanted to say no. I was still upset at her, quite a bit. I felt wronged by the whole thing. I almost told her to fuck off.

But I didn’t. I couldn’t. For one thing, I wasn’t going to deny the feelings were still there. For another thing--I was just going on and on about friendship, wasn’t I? And referencing Beth while I was at it? If I blithely blew off someone who’d meant so much to me over the past two years, what did that say about the lovely speech I’d just made? Not a lot.

So, I didn’t turn her down.  “Sure,” I said. “But not now.”

“That’s fine. You free tomorrow?”

I told her I was, and we made plans to meet. 

I wondered what she wanted.

JUNE 14th, 1982

I picked her up at her house, and it didn’t take her long to answer that very question.

“Eddie?” she said. “I think we’ve made a mistake.”

“What mistake is that?”

“Breaking up.” 

Well, Debbie called it, didn’t she? “You think it was a mistake?”

“Yeah,” she said. “Look, about the prom--I was very, very wrong. I regret pushing that, and I’m sorry. You belonged up there playing, and I’m sorry I didn’t really understand or appreciate that.”

“OK,” I said, “but that still doesn’t take care of the big problem: Michigan.”

“I know,” she said. “Look, I’m not going to apologize for that. I think it’s the best thing. Going there for college, I mean--I shouldn’t have gone out in April which was my other big mistake. But going there in September? I do think it’s best for me right now. However, is there any way we can work around it?”

“I’m sorry, Livvie, I still have the same fears.”

“That I wouldn’t be able to stick to it?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll be honest, I have the same fears about you--but I’m willing to give it a try.”

“Hey, if I tried it, I would be able to keep it in my pants.”

“Probably, though I wouldn’t ask you to,” she said with a little grin. “I’d be more worried you’d fall in love with someone else, you being a complete romantic and all. Sexual fidelity I don’t care much about. I’d ask you to make an emotional committment, not a physical one.”

“Excuse me?” I said, confused.

“I want to get back together with you, and try a long-distance relationship.”

“That much I got,” I laughed. 

“Right. To me, ‘relationship’ implies an emotional one. I’d ask you not to become emotionally involved with anyone else. You can have sex with anyone you want, I don’t care about that. When I’m home, of course, I’d expect sexual fidelity as well--but while I’m away? Pick up a groupie after a gig. What do I care?”

I had to shake my head, to clear out the mind-boggles. “What on earth brought this on?”

“Well,” she started, “part of it was the prom. That’s when I realized how unfair I’d been. I also realized that you were who I should’ve been there with, even if we weren’t dancing. My date was a complete dud,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “And by the time the night ended, any slight attraction I may have had for him was completely gone. I went home alone right after the prom, which is never fun,” she said with a little grin. “Which reminds me--did you sleep with Debbie prom night?”

SHIT! I almost crashed into a telephone pole. “WHAT?” I managed to blurt out. 

“Well, I knew you and Deb were sharing a room after the prom. I was just wondering if you decided to go for it. I can see from your reaction that you did,” she said with a little grin. I tried to say something--I had no idea what, frankly--when she interrupted me. “Hey, we had broken up. I can’t blame you or say anything about it. Don’t you think I knew that Debbie had the hots for you? I also figured it was returned somewhat. So, I’m not surprised.”

I could just shake my head. “Anyway,” she continued, “the prom was part of it, and realizing there that I’d pretty much fucked up. I think I realized then that I was going to try to at least talk to you. But what really clinched it was your speech. That got to me.”

“Yeah.” I agreed. “I can see where it would.”

“You were right--cherish your friends. You’re the best friend I have, and possibly the best friend I’ve ever had. At least the second-best.”

“I understand,” I grinned. 

“Yeah. But you’re right. I haven’t cherished you, or us, not the way I should have.” She sighed. “I know me going to Michigan is going to be rough. Maybe it won’t work. But I don’t think we’d be honoring what we have together or how we feel about one another if we didn’t even try.”

“I don’t know,” I said. “Things have been pretty rough, and the whole Michigan thing still bothers me.”

“Think of it this way,” she said. “What have we got to lose? You’re not dating anyone else, are you? I’m assuming you and Debbie decided to remain just friends even after having sex.”

“Uh, yeah, we did,” I said hesitantly. “And, no, I’m not dating anyone else.”

“OK, so we’re both free. All I’m suggesting is that we give it a try. Look, Eddie, I still love you, you know that. And I’m betting you still love me. What have we got to lose?”

“My heart? My sanity?”

“You already lost the latter,” she laughed. “As for the former, good point. All I can do is promise to try not to dent your heart too much.” 

I took a breath. “Look, Livvie. I have to be blunt. You’ve already done that--dent my heart. Why should I give you a second chance?”

She jerked in surprise, but then sighed. “I suppose I deserved that.”

“I’m not trying to hurt you. But you hurt me, and badly. I’m also, I’ll admit, angry. But I’m just trying to be blunt. Why should I do this?”

“Because we both still love one another?” She paused. “Don’t we?”

“Yes, we do,” I admitted, “but is that enough?”

“I guess only you can answer that.” She gave me a wry little grin. “It was enough for me to swallow my pride and admit I made a mistake.”

“OK, true,” I conceded with a grin. “Let me think about this, OK?”

“OK.”

JUNE 26th, 1982

I gave in. Was there really ever any doubt? Debbie’s right--I’m a sap.

But, you know, despite my hurt and anger, I really did love her. And she seemed to be hell-bent on making amends. 

So, I gave it the summer--and we’ll see what happens then. 

However, I had other things to occupy me over the summer--number one being the band. 

We were serious about attempting to play the clubs in Boston once we got to school. And that meant playing original music. Now, I’d written songs for years--including the first life. Some of them I even remembered, to some point, and I could easily ‘write’ them again in this life. Since my writing style was rooted in stuff that was already around in 1982 or was older, I wouldn’t be violating anything by ‘writing’ a song in 1982 that I originally wrote in 1993. It all sounded like The Beatles anyway!

But I wasn’t the only songwriter in the band. When we’d first discussed the idea of doing this, Michelle revealed that she also wrote songs. 

It was just the two of us, though. I was a little surprised that Debbie didn’t. “I’ve never tried,” she confessed. Stan told us that he would write all the lead guitar lines for our songs that we wanted him to, but he wasn’t going to mess with anything else. “Like lyrics. I will gladly keep the lyrics to you two guys. Yeesh!” 

So, this was the day we’d picked to start working on our own original songs. 

One thing quickly became apparent--while I had arrangement ideas, Michelle did not. She presented us with songs that were very bare-bones. All the lyrics were there, plus the melody and basic chords, but that was it. Some of that had to do with how she wrote. Remember, Michelle was the bass player--and you don’t write songs on bass. She played enough guitar and piano to write songs on them--but just barely. So, when she presented us with a song--like I said, we’d get a fully realized melody and a lyric, but, behind that, only rudimentary guitar or piano chords. 

Which was fine with not only me, but also Stan--he might not have any interest in writing, but he was a natural arranger. As for me--I’d be dictating Michelle’s bass lines on my songs--to the note! That’s how much of an arranger I was. Though that wasn’t exactly true--especially with Michelle, since she was creative and a fantastic bass player--I did tend to come up with lines for all the instruments when I wrote. I’m sure I could come up with lines for all the instruments for Michelle’s songs!

Anyhow, both Michelle and I traipsed into band practice on this day, a Saturday, with a clutch of songs all ready.

Michelle went first. And blew us right out of the water. 

It was called “My Body”. And it wasn’t written by the pristine straight-A student preppie Michelle. Nope, this was written by Michelle the Sexbomb.

It started like this:

Oooh, I’ve come undone
Oooh, I’m sixteen years old
Oooh, I wanna have my fun’
Oooh, and not just do what I’m told

Don’t tell me what my Daddy says
He doesn’t get to choose for me
Don’t tell me what your preacher says
Those rules are antiquated and arbitrary

I’m young, I’m free and I’m ready for you
Let me tell you what I want us to do
This waiting for forever is a game for fools
And don’t tell me I’m too young my body knows it ain’t true
Don’t tell me I’m too young my body knows it ain’t true

Oooh, I feel it deep inside
Oooh, it’s a purple wave
Oooh, no time to run and hide
Oooh, cause I’m feeling brave

Don’t tell me you don’t want me
I feel it every time we kiss
Don’t tell me you don’t need me
You’ve been hoping all along that I wanted this

I’m young, I’m free and I’m ready for you
Let me tell you what I want us to do
This waiting for forever is a game for fools
And don’t tell me I’m too young my body knows it ain’t true
Don’t tell me I’m too young my body knows it ain’t true

And went on from there.

I think we were all stunned. 

“And there goes that pristine image, shattered in a million pieces,” Debbie laughed. Michelle just gave her a Cheshire Cat grin.

“You sure you didn’t write that, Deb?” I teased. 

“Nope, that was all Michelle,” she said. “I mean, come on--who else besides Michelle would use the words antiquated and arbitrary in a song about sex?”

“Hey, I love it,” Stan said.

“You would,” I retorted, “but I do too. However, what’s with this ‘It’s a purple wave’ stuff?”

“Well, purple is the color of lust, after all,” Michelle said.

“It is?” I laughed. 

“She’s only saying that because Stan is wearing a purple shirt,” Karen laughed.

“Who do you think bought him the shirt?” Michelle riposted. 

We all laughed--and then, out of clear blue sky, Stan started playing.

As I’d said, Michelle presented us that song with just her strumming on an acoustic guitar. The song itself was all there--including how fast it was, which was very--but bare-bones. But it triggered something in Stan, because he came up with this really twangy Duane Eddy guitar thing. I answered him with a little stutter on my guitar. And, just like that, we had an intro. And that became the basis to the arrangement, because Stan answered all of Michelle’s vocal phrases in the verse with that same twangy bit. Debbie took over the acoustic part, strumming furiously--like I said, it was a fast song. 

Twenty minutes later, we ran through the thing, from beginning to end. 

After we finished, Michelle looked at me, grinned, and said, “Your turn.”

“Fine, I have a song about sex, too.” 

Which I did. It was called “Keep A Light On.” Though it was a wee bit more subtle than hers! The lyrics were a bit inane in spots--lyrics aren’t my strong suit--but the chorus made plain the meaning of the song:

Midnight prowler knocking on your door
Keep a light on for me
You know my face and you’ve seen me before
Keep a light on for me

And, unlike Michelle, I had the whole arrangement worked out. I’m a riff-monger, so I had the whole riff worked out for Stan to play--in fact, for this song, the riff was the whole song! I also had this cheesy roller-rink “Ramrod” organ part worked out for Karen to play. I let Stan work out the guitar solo, though.

We worked that sucker out in no time at all. Afterwards, Stan laughed and said, “So, we’re gonna be the sex song band, are we?”

“Not hardly,” Michelle smirked, and promptly moved over to the piano and picked out a lovely mid-tempo ballad called “From My Head To My Toes.” It was clearly a love song, not a lust song. Which brought up an interesting point, which Karen articulated with a huge grin: “So, if we practice that song enough, will we get Stan to stop blushing?”

“I do not blush!” Stan maintained.

“Uh-huh,” Debbie teased. “Must’ve been a momentary sunburn.”

“Yeah yeah yeah,” Stan snorted. “Let’s see if we can arrange Michelle’s little ditty, shall we?”

“Cool, he’ll blush all the way through the guitar part,” Debbie quipped. Stan just shot her a look.

It took some work to arrange it. Michelle had the melody--which was lovely--and the words. The chorus, which was gorgeous, went like this:

From my head
To my toes
Well, the feeling comes, and it grows and grows
After so long together
We know how the story goes
It goes, I love you
From my head to my toes

Michelle had that, plus the rest of the words and the basic chords and melody. But she wrote it on piano, which she doesn’t play particularly well, and that’s all she had. It was mid-tempo, so she didn’t want it to be particularly quiet--it was piano-based, but it was supposed to be a full band piece. 

The first thing we did was have Kenny work up a proper piano part. Which he quickly did, working from Michelle’s chord sketch. He even added an intro, based off of a bit of a phrase Michelle was playing at the end of the chorus. What was funny was the first measure--two chords--of the intro was a complete pinch from the same first measure of Bob Seger’s “Still The Same”--that da--dum-dum that opens the song. Same thing. After that it spun off into an arpeggio that had nothing to do with the Seger song, but that first measure was going to get people guessing!

Debbie picked up an acoustic, at Stan’s direction, and strummed along. Then Stan and I got the electrics out. Dave figured out a good drum part, and Karen played some synth. It didn’t take more than a half hour. 

“You know what? We’re damn good,” Stan asserted. “This is gonna fly. And that song is a hit, I swear it.”

“At least he stopped blushing,” Debbie said, keeping it up.

“Yeah, yeah. Any more hits?” Stan said.

“I got one,” I replied.

It was called “I Saw You Dancing.” It was another riff-o-rama--I did have a tendency to write riffs. It was a nice meaty guitar riff with a clanking cowbell moving everything along. The first verse went like this:

There you were moving cross the gym
I saw you dancing
You had your arms and your lips wrapped around him
I saw you dancing
Well I remember the day when you used to be mine
I saw you dancing
Now I’m just the guy on stage keeping time
I saw you dancing
I watched you move across the floor so slow
Made me remember the day before
When I watched you go
I saw you dancing
I saw you dancing

“Hm,” Debbie said when we were done. “Write that after watching Olivia dance with that loser at prom?”

“Actually, no,” I laughed. “That one’s a couple years old.”

“Who’d you write it about?” Michelle asked.

“Nobody in particular,” I said. 

“Whatever,” Stan said. “Whoever it was written about, that’s a hit too.”

“Look, we’ve got our own Casey Kasem in the band!” Michelle teased. 

“Well, hey,” Stan said. “These are good songs. You two can really write.”

“Damn straight,” Debbie agreed. “Any more?”

We did. Michelle had this lovely thing called “Hold Me Down.” She also had a cool little rocker called “Sure Enough,” which had a neat guitar part that drove the rhythm, plus great harmonies for Debbie and me to sing on the chorus. She had another rocker called “Accidents Can Happen Here.”

I had a mid-tempo thing with a nice sustaining riff called “No Place To Hide.” There was an acoustic ballad with a complicated and great-sounding guitar part called “My Blue Highway.” 

And then there was “Summer’s Gone”. One of the goofiest things I ever wrote--lyrically and musically. It had this mock-swing beat with droning organ chords and a honking guitar thing. And the lyrics--which were about how much I hate hot weather--were just silly. It made the whole band crack up. But they all also loved it. We worked it up in a hurry.

“That’s a nice days work, isn’t it?” Stan said, satisfied. We all were. 

JUNE 30th, 1982

Michelle, Stan and Debbie proposed we go out to lunch. I accepted. Little did I know that the three of them had an agenda.

We went to the Golden Arches. The minute we got our food and settled in at a table, they started in on me.

“So,” Michelle began, “Eddie, tell us: have you gone completely nuts, or what?”

“Excuse me?”

“Olivia,” Stan said. “You’re actually going to go out with her again?”

“You really are a complete sap,” Debbie added.

“Jeez, guys, I thought I was going to lunch, not an ambush,” I said, bemused.

“Hey, you’re our friend. We worry about you,” Michelle said. 

“I know. But it’s fine, really.”

“Well, maybe you could try to explain to us exactly why you decided to go back out with her,” Stan said, reasonably enough. “Because we don’t understand it.”

“You guys know I still love her.”

“God only knows why,” Debbie snorted.

“Well, I do. And, hey, at least I’m not gonna spend the summer alone.”

Michelle blinked. “You don’t think this is going to last much past that, do you?”

“Actually, I plan to play it by ear. She says she plans to be faithful--well, emotionally faithful.”

“Uhm, what does that mean?” Debbie asked.

I grinned. “It means, after we get to school, she doesn’t care who I fuck, as long as I don’t fall in love with anyone else.”

“Well, that’s handy,” Debbie chuckled. “Though I don’t know how interested you’ll be in that.”

“More than you’d guess,” I laughed. “Heck, I’ll admit it--one of the reasons for staying with Livvie is so I don’t have to go the whole summer without pussy.”

“You wouldn’t have to in any case, and you know it,” Debbie smirked, “so that isn’t the reason.”

“OK, good point,” I agreed with a grin.

“We just don’t want to see you getting hurt. Again,” Michelle interjected.

“Well, you can’t really prevent that,” I said cheerfully. “It’s happened before and it’ll probably happen again. You guys will just have to pick up the pieces,” I teased.

“Well, that’s what we’re trying to prevent, you big galoot,” Stan laughed. “That’s all we need is you gettin’ all emotional.”

“Ah, that’d be fine,” Debbie countered, “as he’d probably get some great songs out of it!” 

“Nah, I plan to write all my songs about you, Deb,” I teased.

That immediately set Stan off. “Da-na-na-na-na, my baby’s got tits! Da-na-na-na-na, big big big tits!” 

We all cracked up. “You writing that about her or me?” Michelle asked him.

“Four for the price of two?”

“Nice try, but I don’t share,” Michelle said.

“I do believe I knew that,” Stan smirked.

“Good. Now back to the topic at hand,” Michelle said, turning back to me.

“Damn. I liked that topic better.”

“Of course you did. The topic was tits, and you’re a guy,” Debbie giggled.

“Exactly.”

“Anyhow,” Michelle said firmly, “Eddie, are you sure?”

“Well, who’s ever sure? I think it’s the right thing, at least for now. When she’s in Michigan? We’ll see.”

“Well, it’s your life,” Debbie said.

“His life, but our band,” Michelle mock-grumbled.

“Don’t worry, I won’t let the band down. I’ll either be writing happy songs or sad songs, so who cares?” 

AUGUST 27th, 1982

The rest of the summer went fine. Olivia and I seemingly recovered everything that was good about our relationship. The love, the sex, the easy way we had with each other--all of it. It was like we’d never had a problem. 

She left Wednesday the 25th. She actually had to check into the dorm that Friday, which was today, the 27th. I wouldn’t be checking into my dorm until Sunday the 29th. I was glad it was shortly afterwards, though. Because, by the time she left, I really didn’t want her to go. It almost would’ve been easier to have broken up at the beginning of the summer. 

With that in mind, the day after she left, I sat down and wrote a song, called “Only A Phone Call Away”.

She’s not here
She’s gone to where she needs to be
And I fear
That it’s all gonna drive me crazy
And I understand 
And I wait for another day
And I keep telling myself
She’s only a phone call away

There’s no touch
There’s no way to kiss her and hold her
It’s too much
Makes me want to forget what I told her
But I sympathize
So I hold back what I want to say
And keep telling myself
She’s only a phone call away

Comes a time you gotta read the tea leaves
Comes a time you gotta hedge your bets
But I’d bet every penny I own, girl
That you’re not done with me yet

I can’t see
Can’t see past tomorrow, can’t see what’s there
It’s not me
To live in the present without much of a care
But I’m all right
If I can stay forever in today
For when tomorrow comes
She’s only a phone call away

Comes a time you must ignore the future
Comes a time you must forget the past
Comes a time you just rejoice in the moment
For as long as you can make it last

She’s so far
Far away in distance, away in time
But I see stars
Every time I hear her voice on the line
So I hold on tight
To the smile that can last all day
Maybe for now it’s enough
That she’s only a phone call away
Yeah, just for now it’s enough
That she’s only a phone call away

I will see you again
If only in my dreams.......

On this day, the 27th, I taught it to the band. We learned it quickly. And Stan cracked me up by calling me “Genius” for the rest of the practice!

AUGUST 29th, 1982

My first day on the lovely campus of Boston College. 

Boston College isn’t actually in Boston. It’s in Chestnut Hill. Which isn’t a municipality of its own, it’s a village. But still not in Boston. It’s in the neighboring city of Newton. It’s real close to Boston, mind you. But unlike Boston University--which is actually in Boston and has an urban campus--Boston College is suburban. Even bucolic in spots.  It’s compact and leafy and pretty. 

We pulled up to the dorm. They had folks with tables out in front, registering arriving students and doling out room keys. I was in a six-story dorm, co-ed by floors. The even numbered floors had girls, the odd numbered boys. I was on the third floor. 

I had some stuff with me, of course, and Mom and Dad were there. Dad had rented a truck to get all my stuff in--I’d go back for a weekend later on to grab my car--and Mom and Dad helped me lug the stuff up to the third floor. We walked in with a load of stuff--and I met my roommate.

His name was Max Goldberg. He was a tall, very skinny guy with enormous glasses. He was from somewhere on Long Island, and was majoring in Computer Science. And it became quickly apparent that my new roomie was a first-class Grade A nerd. I mean, he was straight out of Revenge Of The Nerds...or would be when it was released! Of course, I sympathized, being a closet nerd myself (and in the first life, it wasn’t so closet!) 

After we got my stuff up--and I hugged Mom and Dad goodbye--my roomie and I went to the dining hall to get some grub and to get to know one another a bit. And my suspicion about Max proved to be true--he’d had a rough time of it in high school.

“Mine was in junior high. I wised up some after that.”

He looked at me, surprised. “You had problems? But you just told me you were in a popular rock band! And you’re big!”

I laughed. “I wasn’t always big, and I wasn’t always in a rock band. The rock band disguises how much of a nerd I am, but before that, yeah. I got beat up a lot.”

“You? A nerd?” he snorted.

“Yeah. Hey, I was salutatorian of my class. Straight-A student. That got me picked on.”

“I see that,” he agreed.

Of course, if he was skeptical about my status as a closeted nerd, he became even more skeptical after we got back to the room. We were chatting, and there was a knock on the door. I opened it to find Debbie and Michelle. 

“There you are!” Debbie said. “We couldn’t find the damn dorm!”

“Did you find each others’ easier?” I laughed.

“We’re in the same one, two floors apart,” Michelle laughed. “Ours is all female, though. I think I like this one better!”

“Don’t let Stan hear that,” I teased. “Anyhow, get your asses in here.”

I led them into the room, where Max was sitting in a chair at his desk. He looked up, saw the girls, and his eyes just about popped out of his head!

“This is my roomie, Max. Max, these are my friends Debbie and Michelle.”

“Nice to meet you, Max,” Michelle said enthusiastically. Debbie followed suit. They moved over to shake his hand--and poor Max was practically shaking!

Just to make him even more incredulous, Michelle plopped down on my bed next to me. Debbie commandeered the chair by my desk. “Did you get here today as well, Max?” Debbie asked.

“Here on campus, yes,” he managed to get out. “My parents and I stayed in a hotel last night.”

“Where are you from?” 

“Long Island, New York, a town called Huntington. It’s about in the middle of Long Island, on the north shore. Are you guys from the same city as Ed?”

“Yep,” Michelle confirmed. “I’ve known this putz since eight grade.”

“A couple years after for me,” Debbie said. “When I auditioned for the band. Little did I know what I was getting into.”

“Ah, shaddap,” I said.

“Oh, you’re in his band?” Max asked.

“We are,” Michelle confirmed. “I play bass. Debbie plays a little bit of everything.”

“Sax and guitar, mostly,” Debbie laughed. “And Michelle shares the lead vocals with Ed.”

“And, now, the songwriting,” I pointed out. “We’ve been a cover band.” I told Max, “you know, playing dances and parties and stuff. But Michelle and I write songs and so we’re trying to get an original set list so we can play the clubs here in town.”

“Where do you guys practice?” Max asked.

“Well, when we’re back in Cabot, usually at Stan’s house,” Michelle grinned.

“Stan is our lead guitarist, and Michelle’s boyfriend,” I told Max. “Here--well, we have a rehearsal space. It’s down near BU, not too far from here. The parents pitched in and rented it for us for the year.”

“Dave, our drummer, goes to BU, he found it,” Debbie told him.

“So the whole band doesn’t go here?” Max asked.

“Nope.” I explained to him where we were all going. “But that makes four of us here, which is cool.”

“Yeah, we have to keep an eye on him, you know,” Debbie teased. 

We chatted for a while into the night. Max even loosened up some. But he kept staring at Debbie! Debbie, of course, was amused. 

After they left, Max shot me an amused look. “Yeah, a nerd. Sure you are. With girls like that hanging around? Yeah, you’re such a nerd.”

“They’re just friends.” 

“Yeah, fine, so what does your girlfriend look like?”

“That,” I said, pointing to the picture of Livvie I had on my desk. 

“See? You even have a girlfriend! And you’re a nerd. Yep.” I just had to laugh. I couldn’t actually explain it to him, could I? He got up and looked closer at the picture. “Cute. Does she go here as well?”

“No, she goes to Eastern Michigan University.” He looked at me. “Long story,” I sighed.

“Long distance,” he said. “That’s rough.”

“Yeah.”

“Is it going to work?”

“We’ll see.”

SEPTEMBER 1st, 1982

The first week of school for us incoming freshmen was orientation. 

Part of it was useful--the tours and whatnot. But, of course, there was a lot of boring meetings and seminars and all that. I’d already declared my major and had registered for classes, so I didn’t have to do any of that. And, because I’d declared my major, I was assigned an advisor from the Psychology department, and met with her. That sort of thing.

Max and I had spent a lot of the first couple of days of orientation together, but of course we had different majors and different advisors. So, while walking back from the meeting with my advisor on this day, I was alone. I headed towards the dorm to roust Max to get some supper. I got into the dorm and stepped into the elevator.

And got quite a surprise.

“Eddie? Do you live here?”

“Kelly! How are you?”

“I’m good,” she smiled. “Yourself?”

“Great. And, yes, I live here. On the third.”

“I’m up on the sixth, the top floor,” she laughed. 

“Stay away from the windows,” I joked.

“Oh, God. My roommate is afraid of heights. She’s mortified she got the top floor. Guess who got the bed near the windows? Not her!”

That made me laugh to myself. In the first life, when I’d gone to St. Louis University, I’d lived on the fourteenth floor! “What are you majoring in?” I asked.

“English, with an education minor.”

“High school English teacher?”

“Yep. How about you?”

“Psychology and pre-med.”

“That and the band? You’re gonna have no time to party!”

“Since when have I been a party animal anyhow?” I laughed. “We play music while other people party.”

“Good point,” she grinned. The elevator stopped. “Here’s your floor.”

I looked at her for a second, and played a hunch. “You busy? Want to come chat for a bit?”

“Yeah, I’d like to catch up,” she said easily. “I’ve got nothing to do except supper, and that can keep.”

“Cool,” I said. “Me too, but I was gonna look for my roomie first, and I don’t think he’s back yet.” 

We headed for my room. I plopped down on the bed and beckoned her to my desk chair. She sat down on it.

I took a good look at her. I hadn’t really looked at her in...well, in a long time. She looked good. She’d always been thin, but she’d filled out some. She’d also changed her hair--she had that horrible eighties short feathered thing in high school. That was gone. Her hair had grown out and was more natural. I liked it a lot better--whoever invented the feathered bob should be shot. 

“So, where’s Patrick?” I asked.

“Here,” she laughed. “Yup, we’re back in the same school again. He’s doing history and pre-law.”

“Good for him.”

“Yep. I’ve seen Michelle in the dining hall. Is the whole band here?”

“Nope. Michelle, Debbie, Kenny and I. Dave’s at BU, Karen at Northeastern, and Stan’s at Framingham State.”

“But you’re staying together?”

“Yep.” I explained to her the original songs idea.

“That sounds great!” she enthused. “What’s your roommate like?”

I laughed. “He’s a really nice guy named Max, from Long Island. A computer science major, and a complete nerd.”

“Good, you guys should get along well,” she teased.

“Try and tell him that!” I laughed. “Because I’m in a band--and because Michelle and Debbie stopped by the first night--he won’t believe I’m a nerd at heart.”

“Good thing he doesn’t know how good you are in bed, he’d really never believe it,” she giggled--then caught herself short. “Oh, I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Why not?” I said easily. “Like I don’t want to hear how good I am in bed?”

She let out a snort of laughter, then sobered. “Didn’t want to bring up bad memories.”

“Only one memory is bad, Kel. The rest are good.”

She smiled. “OK. For me too.” She took a breath. “I know it’s way too late, but I really am sorry. I handled things as bad as they could’ve been handled.”

“It’s not too late, but it’s water under the bridge, Kel. I’d like to think we can be friends, though. We were friends for a very long time.”

“Yes, we can,” she said, with a big smile and visibly relieved. Then she giggled. “I guess we’d better, since we’re practically living together.”

Now that was the Kelly I knew! “Yep, with you on top,” I teased. She started, then cracked up. “Anyhow, what’s your roomie like, besides being acrophobic?”

“She’s ok. She’s nice and all. A bit too much of the ‘ohmygod!’ Valley Girl type for my taste, but she’s ok. She’s even from California!”

“Bet you can’t wait for the first snowstorm.”

“It will be amusing, for sure!”

She looked at my desk, at the picture on it. “Livvie. You guys still together?”

“Yeah.”

“I heard she went away to school.”

“Yeah, Eastern Michigan.”

“How’s that working out?”

“We’ll see,” I said. 

She laughed. “It’s probably a good thing. Between your band and your major, you won’t have time for a girlfriend.”

“Oh, I can always make time for a girlfriend,” I smirked. 

“I said a girlfriend, not sex,” she laughed.

“Uh-huh.”

Just then the door opened. In walked Max. 

Not to my surprise, I got A Look from him. I smirked, and introduced them. 

Kelly and I chatted for a bit, then she went to find her roommate to get some supper. Max and I headed off to the dining hall ourselves.

I waited for it. Didn’t have long to wait, either. “So, how many other gorgeous girls are going to be coming to our room?”

“I think that’s probably about it,” I said, bemused. “Well, Kara will probably stop by eventually.”

“Kara?”

“Yeah. She goes to Wellesley, but I’m sure she’ll end up here for hanging out at some point. Her boyfriend goes to Harvard, so she’ll be there most often, but we’re the best of friends, so I’m sure she’ll visit sooner or later.”

“How is it your friends with all these girls who you’ve never dated?”

“Who said I never dated any of them?” I said with a smirk.

“These are all ex-girlfriends?” he said, amazed.

“Some of them. I never dated Michelle. Never dated Debbie, either, if you want to get technical about it, though we did go to the prom together. And the hotel room after the prom, as well.”

“You don’t have to paint me a picture,” he smirked. 

“Didn’t think I did,” I smirked. “But Debbie and I are still just friends. But I did date Kara, in fact she was my first. We broke up because of distance, mostly, and now she has a very serious boyfriend.”

“And the one I met today, Kelly?”

“Yeah. Ninth grade. Let’s just say it ended badly.”

“But you’re still friends?”

“We haven’t been, actually. This is a welcome development. We’ve known each other since first grade. We were friends long before we started dating. I’d like to be friends again.”

“Well, that’s cool,” Max said. 

SEPTEMBER 8th, 1982

Considering that I was a friggin’ time traveller, I’d become fairly well immune to being shocked.

Now, I did say fairly well immune--not completely. Because I got a shock on this day.

It was a Wednesday. Classes had started the day before. I had a couple of classes on Tuesdays--a history class and an English comp class--but my three biggies were on Monday, Wednesday and Friday: Biology, Chemistry, and my intro to Psychology class. Biology was first for me, at 9 AM.

The shock was who was sitting there when I walked into Bio: Jerry Shelkow. My high school best friend. In the first life!

I’d met Jerry--aka Crash, because of a car accident senior year--freshman year at the Prep. We quickly became fast friends. Since I didn’t go to the Prep this time around, I didn’t meet Crash, nor did I expect to. No, I didn’t expect to meet him at BC--because he didn’t go to BC the first time around. He went the same place I did, St. Louis U. He didn’t finish there, either, though he made it 3 years to my 2, and he did finish college itself, at Merrimack. But BC? Nope.

I didn’t figure he’d gone to SLU because of my influence the first time around, but it certainly looked like a possibility. Why else would he have ended up at BC this time? 

Anyhow, somehow I had to figure out a way to ‘meet’ him. Hey, I hadn’t changed my personality that much--the potential for a friendship should still be there, shouldn’t it? I thought so, anyway.

Now I just had to figure out a way to meet him. I still wasn’t the most outgoing person in the world!

SEPTEMBER 25th, 1982

On the 24th, which was a Friday, I took the train home, planning to finally bring my car back to campus. I slept at home on Friday, intending to drive back to campus Saturday morning. But, first, I made a stop--I zipped up to New Hampshire and stopped in at Daddy’s Junky Music. A New England institution, Daddy’s was a great place to buy instruments. I’d been going there since I was old enough to drive--in the first life. They’d open up a store right in Cabot in a few years, but, in 1982, Salem, New Hampshire, was where I went.

I was looking for another guitar. Like I didn’t have enough! Hey, I liked guitars. And one that I didn’t own, but wanted, was a 12-string acoustic. I had a 12-string electric--a Rickenbacker, my prize guitar, one I’d always wanted in the first life--and a couple of regular 6-string acoustics, but I didn’t have an acoustic 12-string. So, I stopped into Daddy’s to see what they had. I got a nice Yamaha at a reasonable price.

When you’re a guitar player, and you love guitars, and you buy a new one--well, it’s like a normal person buying a new car. You must show it off. And you must preferably show it off to someone who knows the difference between a 12-string Rickenbacker and a Ford Mustang. For me, that would be Stan, Debbie, or Michelle. Stan wasn’t on campus, of course, but I called him down in Framingham, seeing if he wanted to come up, but he was out. Michelle was also out--probably the same place Stan was! Debbie, however, was in her room.

“Bought a new 12-string Yamaha acoustic,” I said after the barest of greeting preambles.

“Ooooh! Get your ass over here!” So, I packed up the guitar and headed over to Debbie’s dorm.

Since this was an all-girl dorm, I had to be checked in. The front desk called up to Debbie, who confirmed that she was, indeed, expecting some guy with a guitar and that I should come on up. I got off the elevator, and she was waiting for me in the hallway. She quickly reached for the guitar. “Gimme!”

“Nice to see you too, dear.”

She just giggled and opened the case. “Oooh, nice,” she said, picking the guitar up.

“You know, you could’ve waited until we got to your room to break the thing out.”

“Why bother?” she smirked. “Got a pick?”

“In the case.”

She grabbed one, and strummed an experimental chord. “It’s nicely in tune,” she said.

“Of course it is. You think I’d be walking around with an out of tune guitar?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Sit,” she said, as she did just that, on the floor in the middle of the hallway. Bemused, I sat next to her. She played a few random riffs and phrases. “Hey, this has pretty easy action for an acoustic, especially a 12-string.”

“Better than yours?”

“Yeah.” Deb owned a 12-string Ovation acoustic. “Mine’s great, but this one’s a wee bit better, I think. You’ve played mine,” she pointed out.

“Not recently, though.”

“True.” She ripped out a chord and grinned at me as the sound reverberated through the hallway. Then she grinned wider and strummed a riff. It was instantly recognizable: Queen’s “Crazy Little Thing Called Love.” I grinned back and her and picked up the vocals. As she played and I sang, I noticed doors opening up and down the hall, and people peering out.

We finished up. “Looks like we’re attracting attention,” I told her.

“I don’t think too many people on the floor know I play.”

“They do now!”

One girl approached us. “Is that your guitar?” she asked Debbie.

“Hi, Janet. No, it’s Eddie’s,” she said, pointing to me. “He brought it over to show it to me.”

“Yeah, I just bought it and now I can’t get it back!” I teased.

“Oh, here, spoilsport,” she said, handing me the guitar. “Show off for my floormates, Studley,” she giggled. “Play ‘Here Comes The Sun’.”

“Can’t. Don’t have my capo.”

“Hold on.” She got up and ran into a room a couple of doors down from where we were sitting. She quickly emerged with a capo--which she tossed to me--her own Ovation, and a small blonde.

“This is my roomie, Caroline. This is my pal Eddie,” she said. I greeted Caroline. She returned the greeting--barely. And very softly. And boy was she blushing! Debbie caught my eye, out of sight of Caroline, and mouthed, “Shy.” Seemed like it! 

“Anyhow,” she said, “put on the capo and play some Beatles, eh?” So I did. She strummed some chords in the background while I did the finger picking on “Here Comes The Sun.” By the time we got done, I think her entire floor was out in the hall watching us. 

“Ok, what else you got?” I said after we’d gotten done. She grinned and started playing the opening chords to Springsteen’s “The River”. I joined right in and sang the lead vocal. Deb chipped in on the harmonies. And we were getting complete, rapt attention from her floormates. When we were done, I looked at her and said, “Crazy Love.” She grinned and played the intro, and into the song we went, harmonizing together. 

“You guys are great,” a tall brunette said when we were done. “You should get a band together or something.”

We both laughed. “We’ve been in a band together for a couple of years now, Suzy,” Debbie told her. “Eddie plays guitar and does some of the lead vocals. My friend Michelle--you’ve met her--plays bass and does the rest of the lead vocals. I play guitar and sax.”

“And percussion, and backing vocals, and sometimes flute,” I added, chuckling. “And french horn on ‘God Only Knows’, don’t forget about that.”

“I should learn piano,” she laughed. “Though we have enough keyboard players.”

We played a few more tunes for them. And Debbie’s roomie, Caroline, spent the whole time staring at me!

OCTOBER 20th, 1982

Things had been going well.

Classes were fine. I was meeting people--including Crash. We ended up sitting next to each other one day in Biology class, and I said something to him about the lecture. He laughed, and said something back later. We ended up eating lunch a few days later. We’d done that a couple of times. We seemed to be getting along well, which was nice. 

The band was practicing a lot, and we got a gig to play BC’s halloween dance, to be held on Saturday the 30th. That was in our old role as a cover band; however, the following Friday, we had our first gig as an original-songs band. It was at a hole in the wall in Cambridge, but you have to start somewhere. 

The only problem was Livvie. The letters got more and more infrequent. The phone calls got more infrequent and shorter. And during our last one, on Sunday the 17th, she sounded distracted and uninterested.

So, yeah, I saw it coming. The Dear John letter. I got it today. “So very sorry, was lonely, met someone else,” blah blah blah. Nope, I wasn’t surprised.

Pissed? Yeah, that I was.

Livvie was a mistake I wasn’t going to make again.