grayspike

A cruel summer ended. All my late-season guests have gone home. If things go smoothly, this time next month I will live elsewhere. Of course if things really go right, those responsible for my involuntary move will be mired in circumstances people whove behaved badly should find especially painful.

They will need to answer authority. No jive. No evasion. Nothing clever. Nowhere to hide.

They shouldve read the fine print about revenge best served cold.

They shouldve let me be.

Several weeks ago Bunny responded to something I wrote concerning loss. Theres all kinds of loss. Cataclysmic, as those evacuees in the Gulf are bravely enduring; personal, as in a loved one; trivial, most celebrities who bitch about lack of privacy.

Our daily existence confirms nature abhors vacuums. Despite contrary efforts the empty spot is filled.

Last Monday the Cool Chicks and Marianne left New York to resume their respective lives. Drake lingered for another day. The extra 24 hours educated him.

After 20-plus years he learned something precious.

Throughout that time a mystery chased him. At the end of this summer the solution overtook then confronted him.

While in the city Drake saw a girl who reminded him of Maddy. Long dead Maddy. Shes been dead longer than many of you reading this have been alive. Im not being flip. Its merely a reference point.

Drake has been forever been seeing women. Preferably old girlfriends. Girls he lusted after though never got. Now a girl whose availability he refused.

Drake thought he saw Maddy on a jammed Manhattan sidewalk. Much like the mirage of Kitty Elmira he saw jostled on Berlins KuDamm.

Maddy in New York hadnt aged any since last being seen. All his sightings share that quality. The women remain frozen in beauty. Only we age.

The Kitty Elmira sighting I understood. Until she inexplicably went underground in the Bay Area, Kitty Elmira was part of our circle. Drake placed what some mightve considered undue pressure on their friendship by becoming besotted with her.

She left his ardor unreciprocated.

From college into career Kitty Elmira crammed her love life. Unlike Tatiana, no assembly line of rat bastard male lovers for her. Just one. Theirs wasnt a relationship. It was torment. He abused. She took it.

At the same time her fondness for women grew from curiosity into infatuation. Until she disappeared, Kitty Elmira enjoyed serial girlfriends. Each one provoking a deeper yearning than the last.

Between those two attractions no way Drake could divert her. But he was stubborn then. He pulled until he repulsed her.

Like I said, he was besotted. Blindly drunk in love. To this day Kitty Elmira occupies him into low obsession.

Years ago from a bus window in Berlin he swore he saw her on the sidewalk. I looked out the same window. Berlin, that block, was full of womanly blondes. Each mustve been someones Kitty Elmira.

Drake owed Tatiana for presenting Maddy. Their open-ended sole meeting evolved from disinterest and the road not taken.

Both his.

A party at Tatianas house. Graduation and immersion into our parents lives. We cannot get fucked up enough to dull these two unnerving prospects.

Pungent blue smoke lowered the ceiling to our necks. Grain alcohol gave the fruit juice a big extra kick. Some of us preferred the adult expense account thing and swilled Scotch.

In some rooms Tatianas guests communed. They were having one of their last few intense discussions about nothing really until a later-life too-short boss assigns an asinine bullshit job. In other rooms noses were red and eyes bulged while a razor surgeon chopped lines with the precision of extracting DNA strands. Only after every grain vanished from the shiny surface did frenzy begin.

Drake and I were in another room. Its just us, dim light, and Maddy. He mustve hooked her up because I was mellow into melting. Anyway, it was obvious she was into him. She was so into Drake I wasnt even an afterthought for her.

Maddys skinny, but not painfully so. Boyish, coltish. Brown lanks fell to her thin shoulders. Small chest. Narrow hips. Long face, darting eyes, dry lips. Most distinct, though, was Maddys pallor. Where we schooled quick walks around the block left tans.

She didnt look like a science library or laboratory grind.

Maddy started vamping Drake. She cupped what she could up top, undulated her waist and slid hands into what I suspected one sweet spot between her thighs. I thought Drake was chilly the most. All he did was stare at her show, sip his Scotch.

Maddy wore a work shirt and denims over a lavender leotard. The shirt landed on the bed. She unhitched her belt and unbuttoned the top of her jeans. For some still confounding reason, Maddy asked Drake whether he minded her taking off her clothes.

Almost being a college graduate, a high one at that, even I knew her question was beyond rhetorical. It was superfluous.

Drake answered yes. Meaning her objected to her, oh, I dont know, GETTING NAKED!

I wasnt as high as I thought. I babbled until my mouth caught up with my mind. To no avail. His refusal was all she ever heard.

Maddy dressed artlessly then left us.

Drake surveyed emptiness. He faced me, said, Guess I fucked that up.

In my days since Ive yet to hear equal understatement.

Later, we laughed about it. By we I mean everybody else I told. These days, even Drake laughs over it. Practice makes him better at faking acceptance of ridicule.

Many years later we told that story to Tatiana. Her response was mild. Frankly I assumed it came from her circumstances.

We three were in Amsterdam. Another rotten marriage crumbled around Tatianas ears. Drake thought she might find relief in distance from the deteriorating home situation. I was there for support. Or help with bar tabs.

Tatianas reaction issued from an entirely unexpected corner. The years aside, she remembered the hazy occasion well enough. One sad fact dampened her response. Maddy had died shortly after our graduations.

Hearing that, even hilarity at Drakes expense diminished.

Tatiana didnt give us the particulars. Inarticulate as we both became, we each knew it happened too soon. In ones early 20s life shouldnt be curtailed but remain one long road ahead.

Cutting that journey short is tragedy.

The next night, Drake hung over into unconsciousness at our hotel, Tatiana and I strolled through nighttime Amsterdam. It was late autumn. Ive never decided whether she pressed close to me from the damp November chill or simply enjoyed being against my body.

All I know is I liked it and wanted more.

Unlike the night before where we three ultimately increased public drunkenness at a Brazilian cafe, we two eventually settled for well-mannered drinks in a typically Dutch bar. There beneath muted lighting, low voices, serious-minded patrons worked on their buzzes while engrossed in De Telegraaf. Aperitifs were not out of order.

It was here where Tatiana finished Maddys life story.

She suffered then succumbed to leukemia. In her short life she bedded a conga line of guys. Not out of promiscuity. At least not the dirty indiscriminate kind.

Realizing there was a finite time before infinity, Maddy considered how to extend her being after having been. A world-renown timeless bestseller was out. She couldnt sing so skip any catchy pop tunes gaining afterlives on oldies radio. No screen tests, therefore no eternal movie glory through James Dean-like cult worship.

Few 20-year-olds complete successful bids for immortality. All Maddy had was herself.

Given the number of guys she fucked, perhaps several might remember her some at future day. Those would be far off days she knew. It was a time Maddy could only imagine. She thought maturity could squeeze life. Maybe a few of those hastily-engaged partners might find succor in recalling their brief pleasure.

One truly never dies when one lives on in memory, no?

Tatianas revelation was rough but poignant. Maddy gone, yet still able to elicit smiles.

Which is just what Drake did after I clarified and colored in Maddy. For him it was a eureka! moment.

Drake saw Maddy clearly.