Sonia, stunned and quiet, spaces out until her burger arrives, and arrives it does. Greasy, huge, hitting the spot. Sonia sips her beer and manages a moment of being super grateful to be eating large quantities of food. Then, a man sits next to her, and she’s midbite — a big-ass bite — when he says, “Hi, Sonia. Jeez, long time no see,” and he goes in for a hug. Sonia worries she might dribble on him so she doesn’t say anything, just makes a muffled sound, and doesn’t pull away from the hug, because, well, it must be someone she knows.
And it is, but it takes her a while to recognize him. Because it appears life has not been kind to him. It was Katrina’s boyfriend, the one she lived with for a year, the bass player for many bands, most notably the Neighborhoods. Stan. Stan Donato. His hair is still mostly black and still cut in the same shag haircut. He’d always been thin, but now he’s rail thin, and his skin — his face — good Lord. Not that he ever had good skin, but wow, he has not aged well. He’s positively gray and although he’d never been a tall man, he now seems shrunken, like half the size he had been. And yet, it’s great to see him.
“Stan! It’s good to see you. What a surprise,” Sonia manages after swallowing some burger.
“You’re the surprise, Sonia. What are you doing in Boston?” Stan croaks, like an old man.
“I’m not sure what I’m doing here.”
“You look great.” He looks down at her stomach.
“I’m pregnant.”
“Wow. Congratulations.”
“Thanks.”
“Are you married? I think I heard you were married.”
“Yeah. I am.” Sonia clears her throat from burger. “Tell me about yourself while I wolf the rest of this burger down.”
“Oh same old, same old, but all good. I’m playing bass with this really great new band. I think we could be huge. We got some labels interested but we might go the DIY way, just put out an album.” Stan scratches his face in an elaborate and familiar way. He’s jonesing for a fix. Sonia recognizes the particular way of face scratching heroin addicts have. “I’m still living in the same apartment in Allston. I got a great new girl, she’s awesome. So much better for me than Katrina was. Are you in touch with Katrina?”
“No, no I’m not. I looked her up, thought about calling her.”
“I wouldn’t bother, she’s married with a kid and goes to AA and is like totally a different person. Although personally I always knew she was a bitch. I just loved her anyway.”
“I wouldn’t call her a bitch. She had a lot of attitude but that was something you liked about her. Wow, though. To think of her settled down. I find that, hard. Maybe disconcerting.”
“You have no idea, Sonia,” says Stan. “I visited her a few times because we stayed friends.”
“I remember that now. I was always amazed. I’ve never stayed friends with any of my exes.” Dick flashes into Sonia’s mind but she quickly refocuses.
Sonia thinks of Katrina walking off with Lenny Kravitz in a smoke-filled club, or dancing, arms outstretched to the Black Crowes. “Well, I looked her up and wussed out on calling her. But I think I will. I’d like to see her even if she’s into AA. I’m married with kids. But I don’t feel like a different person. Maybe that’s the problem. I feel like I have different things to do now, but otherwise, I feel the same, I think.” As Sonia says this, looking over Stan, who was the same, just a fifteen-years-older version, which wasn’t pretty, she wonders if it’s true, if she does feel the same. And what does that mean anyway? Young? Free? As if the whole world lay ahead of her?
“Is your whole family here? What are you doing here, did you say?” Stan scratches away, dragging his fingers down his face, from his forehead to his chin and back again.
“I didn’t say. I … I guess I’m on a vacation. Or on a mission. A find-myself mission. I don’t know. But no, my family is not with me.”
“Where are you staying?”
“At a Holiday Inn Express in Brighton.” Sonia is done eating. “Hey, should we go check out the bands below?”
Stan shrugs. Sonia can tell he’s just looking to score, but she can also tell he needs money to do so.
“Let’s just check them out.”
The band is called Let’s Go Radio! and really does have an exclamation point in the name. They seem to be imitating bands from the ’80s, bands that she had grown up listening to, like Men Without Hats and Flock of Seagulls, but their look is less colorful. Sonia and Stan stand in the back, and Sonia eyes the young girls, with tons of eyeliner and bright tights, jumping around, wagging their asses, hands grasping the edge of the stage. That had been her. Shameless. But why not have been shameless? Why not, when so young? The real problem right now is she hates this band. They suck. It’s as if they didn’t even tune their instruments. And something about being here felt wrong, like she’s staring into her past and missing it and yet this is not her past, this is now and it’s not nearly as haloed as her past was. Not to mention there’s no going back. And then she turns and looks at Stan and thinks, at least I’m not in the same apartment, fifteen years later, still trying to make it and, worse, a junkie to boot.
“Let’s get out of here,” Stan says. “These guys suck.”
“I know, they really do.”
They walk down Commonwealth Avenue, and Stan shares the news of some of her ex-boyfriends — one in San Francisco making art rock, another disappeared in New Hampshire with a waitress and no one knows where he is. A bench presents itself. The night feels nice, airy and cool, but comfortable. They sit.
“So listen, Sonia, I have a favor to ask you.”
She knew this was coming. Stan drags his fingers down his face again, his body twitching in a way that reminds her of Mike, her toddler, trying to sit still and then she banishes the thought of Mike and looks at Stan.
“Can I borrow sixteen dollars?”
What was it with junkies? They always came up with the strangest amounts of money to ask for. I mean, not a hundred bucks or something round and significant, it was always some weird specific amount, the amount of half a bag, because they had the rest in their pocket or something? Who knew.
“Stan, I …”
“I can pay you back next week. We’ve got a gig and I’ll get paid and I can … I can send you a check.” He looks straight at her, wringing his hands.
“Stan, since when do you have a checking account?”
“How about fourteen dollars? Or fourteen fifty? I’m begging you.”
“You’re just gonna buy drugs and I don’t feel right about that.”
“No, no!” Stan’s eyes widen in an enormous effort at sincerity. Sonia knows drug addiction isn’t funny, but watching his face attempt to form itself into some wide-eyed semblance of innocence is making it hard for her not to laugh. “I just need it to, to, get home and buy some dinner. I’m just broke! And I owe some money. I need to pay back a … a friend.”
“Stan, no. You know, it’s been so great running into you. Hearing even a bit about Katrina, about my exes. It was really great to see you, but I’m going to catch a cab back to my hotel.” Sonia leans in and hugs him. And he hugs her back. He doesn’t even smell that bad. They pull apart and she stands to find a cab.
“Sonia, wait, Sonia.” Stan remains sitting, desperate. She feels for him but no, she’s always had a rule about junkies. Junk was just so nasty.
“Yeah, Stan?”
He grabs her hands and pulls her head to his and says, “I’ll give you head. I give great head. Just fourteen dollars.…”
Sonia pulls away and starts waving, “Oh no, no, Stan. Take care, man. I mean, thanks, but no.” She starts walking as fast as she can and turns and waves at Stan, who sits slumped on the bench, waving half-heartedly back at her.