The Boy from the Band

I Shall be Released

"I put it away, I'm going to make you some coffee. Here, take some B-complex, take it," I urged, "You've had it before, it will help you feel better when you sober up. I'm going to make you some coffee, you shouldn't have been driving, you know. It scares me when you drive drunk."

He said nothing but looked at me and lay his heavy head on my shoulder. I'm sure Elizabeth was trying to take care of him, but maybe he needed to get away for a while. I hope she doesn't try to find him. My number is unlisted and I change it periodically. I feel bad for her but I worry more about Rick.

I say nothing, sit next to him and take his hand, waiting for him to speak. He was silent, breathing heavily, gripping my hand tightly. "I know Rick," I say, keeping the tone of my voice even, trying to soothe him.

"I don't understand why he did it, we were starting to work on material for a new album. I don't understand why anyone would do that, especially..."

"Rick, remember when I told you that you guys needed to keep an eye on him? He was drinking again, he was back on drugs, and suffered from depression. Alcohol's a depressant, and mixing it with drugs doesn't help. I told you when he started using again that he was a dead man. I've expected this for a long time."

"But he didn't act like he was depressed, he acted like everything was all right."

"That's how it works, Rick, he made up his mind and it took a weight off his shoulders," I released his hand and stood up, "You happy face everything, and sometimes it drives me crazy. I'm going to get your coffee, okay? Cream and sugar? I'm sticking with Perrier."

I went into the kitchen to fix his coffee. Rick is a master of denial; he hates to face anything unpleasant especially if it's staring him in the face. It's how he copes and with Elizabeth babying him it's never going to change.

I feel bad for him, he's known Richard since they were teenagers playing with Ronnie Hawkins. They've played together for years and they were as close as brothers. I think Richard was already a drunk when Rick met him but when you're young you handle alcohol differently. Richard's depression has been building for years and instead of treating it, he tried to drown it.

I fixed Rick's coffee and brought it to him, I stuck with Perrier. I didn't say anything, I wanted to let him do the talking.

"How do you know so much about this depression shit, anyway?" he asked, his stare still unfocused, I urged the coffee on him and he began to slurp it.

"Because I live with it, remember? I'm manic-depressive. The alcohol I know about because of my alcoholic mother. My father always buried his head in the sand and never wanted to deal with it. I grew up with this shit. You wonder why I don't visit my parents? It's because I had eighteen years of them and that was enough."

The doorbell rang and the pizza delivery guy appeared. I paid him and carried the pizza to the coffee table. "Come on," I told Rick, "You need to eat and I'm starving." He opened his mouth to argue with me and I gave my "don't even think about it" look. He took a piece and took a bite, then another, and wolfed the rest down. He took another piece and I relaxed; at least I'd gotten him to eat.

I fixed him more coffee. I didn't dare let him fall asleep. I still didn't know why he was here, but he sought me out as he did in the old days before we broke up.

He finished almost half the pizza, and I'd gotten two more cups of coffee in him. He looked a little better, but the pain in his eyes had not gone away. "Dacy," he said, taking my hand, and I tried to pull away. "No, don't," he said and I felt myself wanting to surrender.

I want to be in his arms again. We'd made love a few times since he broke things off, I guess I'm like a habit he couldn't quite break. Each time we did, I regretted it afterward but I could never bring myself to say no.

He'd had enough food and coffee to counteract some of the effects of the alcohol and tried to pull off my clothes. Part of me wanted to give in, but as sorry as I felt for him, I hesitated. I don't care how much he was hurting; I didn't want to be his booty call.

I'm not dealing with someone who's sober. "No," I tell him, "No more. Since we've broken up, I've let you come back here whenever you want but I'm tired of that. I came to New York to be with you, now you've got to decide if you want to be with me."

"I've only wanted what's fair for you, you deserve more than what I'm able to give you."

"Do you love me, Rick, or is that over? Why do you keep coming back? If you want pussy there are a lot of women who would be willing, why do you keep coming back to me?"

"Maybe you're a habit that I can't break. Do I love you? Yes, even being away from you for three years didn't change things. Each time I leave here I tell myself I should stay away."

"If you love me you've got to make up your mind. I miss you, god how I miss you! I want us back, Rick, the only reason why I've stayed here is for you. If you don't love me, I'm going back to Cali; but, if you want me, really want me, I'll stay."

"I don't want you to go, I want you to stay here. I've tried, but I've discovered that I can't do without you. Please say you'll stay—and I promise that we won't be apart anymore."

It's what I want to hear, but I don't know if I can believe him. He's broken up with me twice. Now he's pulling me into his arms and I don't want to resist. He needs me and I know it. Elizabeth and I are like night and day. What I give him she can't, he loves me because I'm not her. In his twisted world, he needs us both and to him, it's always made its own kind of sense.