The Boy from the Band

Arrangements

A couple of days later my doctor called and told me I had a "funny bug". What does that mean, exactly? Does it have a sense of humor? He told me that I had an infection that was uncommon, but treatable with stronger antibiotics, which he's called into my pharmacy. I need to start taking them right away and come back for more blood work in two weeks to make sure it's gone.

I'm tired of all this, I am. I've had two major surgeries in two years and almost died the first time. Now I have some sort of exotic infection and the doc can't even give me a cause.

I'm pissed. I put on my running clothes and take off in the direction of the beach. I'm going to run until I'm too tired to run anymore, then I'm going to get my hair cut.

The hairdresser cuts off four inches of hair which makes me look better. He also cut some very sexy 60's style bangs that make me look like Jean Shrimpton. Between the run and the haircut, I feel great. If Rick doesn't like it, too bad, he didn't ask if I'd mind if he shaved off his beard and mustache.

I hope he doesn't show up, at least not tonight, but around two a.m. he unlocks my door and wakes me. He looks at my hair and shakes his finger then tells me I look nice.

"Come on out to the living room," he says and I can smell the hash before I even get in there. He lights the pipe for me and I inhale and try to hold it in then start coughing. I think it's impossible to smoke hash and not cough, it seems to trigger the high for me anyway.

"Now, what did the doctor say?" he asks. I wish that for once he'd forget something that I told him and I try to explain what the doctor told me, only I don't call it a "funny bug". I show him the new antibiotics which are the size of horse tranks and are supposed to do the trick.

"What if they don't?" he asks and I wish he'd quit asking so many questions.

"They will," I assure him, "And if they don't, he'll either give me more or try something else. Hey, I went for a nice long run today and I'm feeling just fine. Maybe I'm just having a run of bad luck, but bad luck always runs out. I'm more worried about your girlfriend than I am about this."

"Don't be. She doesn't know anything, she'd confront me if she did. When we got together I told her I needed my space sometimes, and don't pay attention to rumors. You and I have our arrangement. We care about each other but we each have our own lives. I've never lied to you about Elizabeth, I made it clear that I'm in that relationship for keeps." He tilts my chin with a long finger, "I'm going to have to let go of you someday. I'm being very selfish, right now I don't feel like letting you go."

I'm high and horny from the hash—it's good stuff—I wish he'd try and take advantage of me, but he doesn't. He caresses me, but that's as far as it goes. I realize he's been with me from beginning to end, that he's looked out for me, even took me to the hospital. I know he wants to fuck me but he won't until every day of the three weeks I'm supposed to wait has passed.

I want to tell him I'm not fragile, I won't break but I'm touched. Here I am in a relationship with the bass player of a well-known band who could do a lot better than me. I was twenty-three when I met him, now I'm almost twenty-four and our relationship is going strong when it shouldn't be.

I snuggle against him and he tightens his arms around me. "You've got to leave soon, don't you?" I ask.

"Yes, but I don't want to." He sighs and sits up. "I won't be back until next week. That damn album is taking longer than we thought it would. And things..."

"And things what?" He wants to tell me something but for some reason thinks he shouldn't. Something is going on and he doesn't want to tell me. I don't know why, one of these days he's got to realize I'm a big girl. The ten years between us isn't all that much. I maybe wasn't a grown-up when he met me, but I wasn't exactly a kid, either.

He left while I was asleep. I hate when he does that, but I found a rose next to me on the pillow. I get up and put it in water before Willie grabs it—that cat can make a toy out of anything—then go back to sleep.

It's ten before I wake up and I make some coffee and eat some granola so I can take my drugs. I'm supposed to take this antibiotic on an empty stomach but I know from experience if I try to do that I'll throw up.

I wait an hour then go for a run. After all this inactivity my body is craving exercise and running helps to get the kinks out. I haven't seen Gina in a few days so I leave a message on her machine and tell her I have stuff to catch her up on so let's go to dinner.

We meet at a new seafood place outside Malibu. It's gotten good reviews and deserves them, my salmon tastes heavenly. It's a bit pricey but since it's my first official night out we decide we deserve it.

"Wow, your hair looks great. I'd never imagined you with bangs before, but they suit you," she paused for a moment, "Does Rick know you cut it?"

"Yup," I say and giggle, "One of the reasons I cut it is because he told me not to!"

We laugh but then her expression grows sober, "I hate him, you know." I look up, startled, but I can see she's being honest. "He doesn't have any business being with you. I thought you guys would sleep together a few times—which is perfectly fine—but then go your separate ways. It was good that he was there to take you to the hospital, but you would have gotten there anyway. I just hate what he's doing to you. Do you want to spend the rest of your life with another woman's husband?"

"I never really think about that, but you're right, I don't. He said something strange last night, about how he should let me go but he's too selfish."

"Yes, that's exactly what he is, selfish, and I think he knows it. Is he going to go on tour soon? You need a break from him."

"I don't know, I haven't asked. I don't think things are going well in the studio and there may be more to it than that."

"Like what?" she raised a quizzical eyebrow.

"Well, I don't know. He started to say something, then stopped. I didn't press him, but I wish he'd fucking talk to me. It's like he has this little insular world with me where nothing is supposed to be unpleasant or unhappy."

"Like you're an escape for him?"

"Yes, exactly. We talk a little, but mostly about things we already know. He won't discuss the hard things with me, like when things aren't going well or a problem he's dealing with. It's frustrating, you know. He knows I'm not an idiot, that I'm smart, that I'm a good listener."

"Maybe he saves stuff like that for his wife, I mean his girlfriend. Maybe he doesn't want to think about all that stuff when he's with you."

I set down my fork and take a long drink of wine. "Yes but that doesn't mean it's not still there." I lean forward, trying to emphasize my point, "He showed up at my place really wasted one night, I've never seen him so out of it. He shouldn't even have been driving. He's a pretty heavy partier, but it was excessive even for him. I didn't think about it at the time, but I wonder if something was wrong. Is wrong," I correct myself.

"I'm worried about you," she says, "I don't want you to get drawn into that. You need to make him talk to you, tell you what's going on. He needs to treat you like you're an adult, for crying out loud, if you're his girlfriend he owes you that. You're letting him off easy and that's doing him no favors. And maybe you should think about taking a break from him for a while."

"Yes, maybe, if I can. It's one thing to talk about it, but another to do it. He's kind of moved himself into my life, you know. Maybe his girlfriend will find out about us and take the matter out of my hands."

"You know you don't want that," she sighed, "But I can think of worse things that could happen. Just think, this has been going on for a year and this relationship doesn't have anywhere to go. Why not find someone who'll be there for you? Get out of this while you can, it'll only get harder."

"You're preaching to the choir, Gina. Maybe if I'm lucky he'll leave me." But he won't, I told myself, he likes what he has with me and I don't think he's ready to walk away from it.