Two weeks later I threw Manfred a going-away party at The Lounge. All the regulars were there: Dieter, Nicky, Tommy, Dandy Doug, Josh. Even Tom Hill and Carter stopped by for a drink. Most of the girls knew Manfred, and those who didn’t knew he was a good friend of mine, so everyone was in a party mood.
It wasn’t planned, but at some point someone found the fluorescent body paints in the back office and brought them out. Immediately the guys began picking models, and the girls began pulling off their tops, because you couldn’t have a cloth-covered canvas. I saw Cathy flip on the switch to the four tubular black lights that hung strategically from the ceiling. We hadn’t turned them on in a long time, so for a second I wasn’t even sure they would work. But they all came on and soon the girls were glowing in their new fluorescent finery.
One guy painted an Australian flag draped over Rina’s shoulders and flowing down to her waist. Another guy-Nicky, I think-worked only in red and white and created two side-by-side targets with Tessa’s nipples as the bull’s-eyes. Some of the girls turned out great, while others looked like bad imitations of modern art.
Rochelle was the best. She’d been lucky enough to have been picked by Dieter. He was probably the best artist we had in the district. He turned her into a provocatively dressed cop, complete with a side-holstered pistol and handcuffs.
Even Isabel, who’d been moody at best lately, seemed to be having a good time. She was laughing and passing out drinks and talking to everyone. She even got up on stage during “Love Shack” and showed everyone she still knew the moves.
We’d been taking turns all night toasting Manfred. When my turn finally came, the room settled down to allow me to get in a few words.
I raised my glass. “I was going to say something profound like, ‘Tonight we say goodbye to a friend with the hope that one day our paths will cross again. We each have our own roads to travel, and Manfred, we’re glad your road ran alongside ours for a while.’ But none of you would believe that bullshit anyway.” Everyone laughed. “So I’ve decided to limit myself to one word that I think sums him up.” I looked at Manfred, a wide grin on my face as I raised my glass even higher. “Asshole.”
More laughter as they all raised glasses, then, almost as one, said “Asshole!”
And before I knew it, the music was blaring again and people were laughing and girls were dancing and everyone seemed-for that moment, anyway-happy to be where they were. Even Manfred, who in less than forty-eight hours would be boarding a plane to Europe, probably never to return.
Isabel told me the thing she remembered most about that night was that Mariella said she was going to show up, but never did. Isabel had been disappointed, but not enough to let it ruin her evening. Mariella, after all, seldom lived up to the promises she made to her cousin. If Isabel had known that Mariella and Manfred had had a brief affair that had not ended well, she probably would have had a horrible evening, wondering if her cousin would really show up. But Isabel never knew, and later, I didn’t feel it was necessary to tell her.
We didn’t get the bar closed until almost sunup that night. In the end, it was just Cathy and Manfred and me standing on the sidewalk facing each other. I gave him a big bear hug and told him he was always welcome back. Cathy kissed him tenderly on the cheek and said she would miss him.
After he climbed into the trike that was waiting for him at the curb, he leaned out, waved and said one last goodbye. I knew it was the last time I would hear from him, because of what he said when we were sitting around the pool-that Angeles wasn’t the real world. And now that he was leaving and returning to that real world, he had to forget us to get us out of his system.
Cold turkey. No step down. No hair of the dog.
The city was beginning to come alive as Manny drove Cathy and me home that morning. The sky had started to turn blue, the black night fleeing to the west. I wasn’t as drunk as I could have been, and to say I was just tired and sad at the loss of my friend would have been only a partial truth. Manfred’s departure had stirred up questions I didn’t want to deal with, questions that had been buried deep in my mind but were suddenly inching closer and closer to the surface.
I was fighting hard to suppress them again when Cathy said, “What road are you taking?”
At first I thought she was talking to Manny, so I glanced up, but we seemed to be traveling on our normal route. When I realized she’d been talking to me, I said, “What do you mean?”
“When you made the toast for Manfred,” she said. “You said we all have our own roads to travel. I want to know what road you are on.”
“I’m not sure what kind of answer you’re looking for.”
She looked out at the buildings that lined the side of the street, then said, “How long will our roads run together?”
“Cathy-”
“Will you suddenly go off in your own direction someday, like Manfred?” she asked, cutting me off.
“No. That’s not part of my plan,” I said, realizing a split-second later it was the wrong thing to say.
She turned to look at me. “Then what is your plan?”
“To go home and go to sleep.” I smiled as broadly as I could, but her expression didn’t change. So I became serious again and said, “To work hard. To enjoy life. To love you.”
“In that order?”
I sighed, but said nothing. Silence wasn’t always the best answer, but sometimes it was the best I could come up with.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Isabel and Larry had their first fight less than three weeks later. She remembered the date exactly-September 4th. It came during an unusually long gap between visits, but Larry was finally due the following week. Whenever I saw her, all Isabel could do was talk about how excited she was.
On the surface, the trouble began when he told her he would have to delay his trip for another week. It shouldn’t have been a big deal. What’s a week? In Angeles, a week could go by without you even noticing. And though she was disappointed, Isabel didn’t make a big deal out of it.
Until after she told Mariella.
“Oh, baby. I’m sorry. What happened?” Mariella said, acting the part of the concerned older sister.
“Nothing happened,” Isabel said. “He just couldn’t get away from work yet.”
“I see.” Mariella smiled, and sat next to her cousin on the couch, putting her arm over Isabel’s shoulders. “Don’t worry. I’m sure everything is okay.”
“I know everything’s okay. I was just looking forward to seeing him next weekend.”
“Of course you were. Of course you were,” Mariella said. “He should have thought of that.”
“It’s not his fault,” Isabel said.
“Shhh. Of course it is. He knows you have been waiting for him. Why couldn’t he have planned his business better?”
A few tears appeared in Isabel’s eyes. “I don’t know,” she said, then leaned into her cousin, no longer able to hide the full extent of her disappointment.
“Did you ask him?”
Isabel could only manage to shake her head.
“It’s okay,” Mariella said. “Don’t worry. Like you said, maybe it wasn’t his fault.” She ran her hand over Isabel’s hair, smoothing it down. “Still, he’s not being very fair to you.”
An hour later, after Isabel spent most of the time crying in her cousin’s arms and listening to Mariella’s “supportive” words, Larry called again to give Isabel his updated flight information.
“Did you write it down?” he asked once he was done.
“Of course I wrote it down.” Her voice was flat and unfriendly.
“Great. I can’t wait to see you,” he said.
“Okay.”
There was a pause. “Is everything all right?” he asked.
“Fine.”
“You don’t sound fine.”
“I’m fine. I’ll see you when you get here.”
“Wait,” he said. “What’s going on?” He paused, then added, “Are you mad at me?”