The next picture he pulled out stopped him cold.
'Get outta here,' he said. 'Is that Storm?'
In the picture, the famous rocker is in a studded leather jacket, with his arms around me and my best friend, Dede Wirklich, both of us fourteen at the time. I'd won a drawing from a local radio station, two concert tickets and the chance to meet Storm backstage, and naturally I chose Dede to go with. When I'd discovered her in second grade, I'd felt as though I had found a missing piece of myself. Her father had taken off, too, and we seemed to understand each other in a way that did not require speaking.
She was kind of a cutup, and got in a lot of trouble as the years went on. Very often we were in these pranks together-we once stole into the principal's office and hid a noisy cricket, which took him days to find-but the teachers were more reluctant to blame me because I tended to be the best student in the class. We started drinking together at eleven when we smuggled shots of gin and vodka from her mother's stash, replacing them with water every day until both bottles tasted exactly like the tap.
By high school, Dede had gone totally Goth, right down to the black fingernails and white eye shadow, and it was pretty clear she was always going to be in trouble. Her boyfriends were all loners and misfits, guys with biker tatts and cigarettes drooping from the corners of their mouths, who were never good to her. Senior year, she got pregnant by one of these characters and had Jessie.
Nat asked if I still saw her, and I told him we came to an ugly end.
'I actually moved in with her after my marriage broke up, but it was a bad scene. I got stuck with all the housework, including making Jessie's school lunch. Dede resented me, because even though my life was no bowl of cherries, it was still going to end up better than hers, and for my part, I got fed up lending her money I was never going to see again, and worn out by Jessie, who was an incurably needy, whiny little girl. It all led to this unreal moment which I'd rather not talk about.'
Looking down again to the photograph, Nat changed the subject by asking what Storm was like.
'Truth?' I answered. 'I was so incredibly nervous that if it weren't for the picture, I wouldn't even remember it happened.'
'Storm's a good show,' Nat said. 'I saw him three times. That's all I did when I was in college-go to concerts and get stoned. Unlike now, when I go to work and get stoned.'
He was in a bantering mode, but I stared.
'Nat, you're not really going to the supreme court with reefer in your pocket?'
He was sheepish and muttered something about it being a hard year.
'Nat, if you ever got caught, you'd be prosecuted. Your dad's way too prominent for you to catch a break. They'll suspend your law license, and nobody will let you near a high school, either.'
My lecture embarrassed him, naturally, and we ended up in silence, as we sat on the floor to eat. Down low, with our backs against the plaster, it turned out to be the coolest place in the apartment. Nat was still sunk into himself. He'd told me when we had lunch that his former girlfriends all described him as dark and remote. I hadn't seen what they were talking about until now.
'Hey,' I said. 'We all do stupid stuff. Just ask me. I'm the world leader.'
He looked straight at me for a second. 'So tell me about that breakup,' he said.
'Oh, Nat. I don't think I could.'
His look lingered only a second, then he shrugged and went back to his sandwich with no more to say. I saw how completely you could lose connection with him, especially when he feels bad about himself.
'No questions,' I said. I had closed my eyes to figure out exactly how I could do this, but even so, I sensed him turning my way. 'Right after I stopped working for your dad, I began seeing a much older guy. Very, very successful, very prominent, somebody I'd known and looked up to for a long time. It was pretty wild. But also purely nuts. He was married and was never going to leave his wife.'
'Ray, right? Ray Horgan. That's why you gave me that goofy look when I mentioned his name at your apartment.'
I opened my eyes and stared hard. I can do that when I have to.
'Okay,' he said. 'No questions. What do you say in court? "Withdrawn." Sorry. Sorry, sorry.'
I told him the rest of the story in a few words: a great guy who had always told me it was crazy and finally broke it off. You could hear the faint burble of the TV in the apartment next door after I finished.
'So I bet you're going to go looking through these boxes for my scarlet letter,' I finally said.
'Hey,' he answered. 'Like you said, we all do dumb things.' He took some time then to tell me the long story of the affair he'd had with the mother of one of his closest friends during his senior year in high school. In the circumstances, it was a kind thing for him to share.
'You're a good guy, Nat.'
'I try,' he answered. Our heads had ended up lolled against the wall as he had quietly described the way he'd blundered into that woman's bed, and our faces by now were not very far apart. His eyes were full on mine, and there wasn't any missing the meaning of his look. I could feel everything, my loneliness and longing, and could have done something incredibly, unbelievably stupid at that moment, the same way I always have. But you have to learn something from living. I ruffled his wet hair instead and got back to my feet.
He was visibly chafed, and a few minutes later said he had to jet, although he made a halfhearted offer to drive me home that I declined. When I got back eventually, I e-mailed profuse thanks and promised to invite him to my first dinner party.
He didn't answer for two days, and I knew I was in trouble the way something popped in my chest the instant I saw his name in my in-box and read the subject line.
FROM: NatchReally1@clearcast.net
TO: AnnaC402@gmail.com
Sent: Monday, 8/4/08 5:45 pm
Subject: My Heart
Anna-
Sorry I've been AFK but I've been thinking. A lot. Always dangerous.
I completely understand where you're at. But I am starting to have feelings here, which you probably realize. And I need to watch out for myself. I can go along really well and then something seems to knock me off balance, and I start to sink. And I can go pretty low. But we do seem to have connected here, really really connected, and I'm just wondering if I can maybe talk you into reconsidering. I mean, older guys haven't worked out, so maybe a younger guy is what you've needed all along. And I mean, what's the difference really, we're both pretty much at the same point on the Mandala? Anyway, I think you get what I'm trying to say because you seem to get me.
It was so sweet, I got a little teary reading, but there was no point. And even so, I actually hesitated to write back until late the next evening.
FROM: AnnaC402@gmail.com
TO: NatchReally1@clearcast.net
Sent: Tuesday, 8/5/08 10:38 pm
Subject: Re: My Heart
I think I get you too, Nat. And I think you get me. And it probably would be nice to spend some time and see what happens, if what went on in my life hadn't gone down, but it did. This would be a really bad idea for a lot of the reasons I've already explained and one or two I don't want to go into, even with you. I actually talked to Dennis about it this afternoon after I got your last message. I am not the kind who would give my shrink a veto over my life. And frankly, he's not that kind of shrink. But we can both see how this is so not a good idea at all. And I just can't keep getting into relationships that are really just deck chairs on the Titanic. I don't know what else to say except I am so so so sorry.
I was not sure he would even bother to respond, but he did late the next day, although just to say good-bye.
Anna-
I think I have to stop this cold. Like not hang out or communicate or anything. There's something about the way we've clicked that seems to me to lead only one place. And I'm actually walking around moping and heartbroken. And then going home to reread your emails. Which, to say the least, is a dangerous cycle.