June 1982
Despite the blaring of car horns, the squeal of brakes, and the occasional shout of laughter or angry expletive, the sound of music was distinctive, rumbling low over the city's streets. A drum kit was being pounded within an inch of its life, matched by the driving force of distorted guitars pushing the rhythm into a frenzied primal groove. A guttural voice cut through the urban night noise.
"Hit the lights...yeah!"
My stomach tightened reflexively. "Shit! They've already started."
Ignoring my friend Kelly's protests to slow down, I grabbed her hand and pulled her along as we ran the last few feet to the ticket booth.
"Leila, I'm wearin' heels." she whined.
Looking down at my friend's unfortunate choice of shoes, I consciously bit my tongue before saying something I'd regret. I had advised her against wearing pumps. This wasn't a dance club, and no one in there was going to appreciate how her lime green heels matched the tank top she'd layered under a grey off the shoulder tee. This was the kind of club where sneakers and jeans were expected, and anything fancier would be seen as trying too hard. I had warned her. But still, this wasn't her usual scene and she had agreed to come without too much convincing. Kelly had become a good friend over the last year, and despite her penchant for fashion over practicality, I was excited to have her with me. And I needed the support.
Shaking my head in amusement, I turned back to the ticket window, digging my hand into the pocket of my jeans for money. The guy in the booth finally sensed my presence and looked up from the book that he'd been engrossed in. His eyes widened slightly as he saw Kelly and I standing there waiting to pay our entrance fee, and he sat up a little taller and automatically puffed his chest out.
"Can I help you ladies?"
He tried to come off suave, but ended up with distinctly pervy instead.
Hearing the band begin to wind down their first song, I was impatient to get inside. "Yeah, two tickets for the show please."
"You want tickets to this show? Tonight?"
He seemed completely confused by the expectations of his job as a ticket booth operator. I tried again. "Yes, two tickets...one for me...one for my friend here. For the show. Metallica."
"Are ya sure you ladies wanna go in there? It's not really a place for two good-looking—"
"Yes we wanna go in there and we'll be fine," I interrupted. "We're friends of the band. They're expecting us."
I regretted my choice of words as soon as they came out of my mouth, knowing how it sounded.
Sure enough, the guy gave a shrewd smile as he leered at me through the glass. "Friends of the band are ya? Very special friends I'd wager. Can't believe those metal freaks in there could bag a couple of hotties like you two, but whatever rings your bell babe."
I was mortified that this douche thought Kelly and I were groupies, and I was tempted to chew his ass out for being presumptuous, but I didn't want to waste my time and the band was starting their next song.
"Whatever," I mumbled as I threw a $20 down on the counter.
"Ladies are free on metal nights." He smirked as he caught site of my Metallica t-shirt. Then his eyes fixated on the full breasts underneath, not as well hidden as I'd have liked in the loose shirt, and he licked his lips in way that made me feel unclean. "Damn...you are fine," he muttered under his breath.
"Yeah, ok," I murmured uncomfortably as I took back my money and maneuvered Kelly quickly towards the front door.
I could feel the guy's eyes on us still and hurried inside.
It was louder in the lobby of The Concert Factory, an old theater that had been converted into a music venue years earlier, but at least we were now out of the sight of the ticket guy's creepy stares.
"What the hell was that?" Kelly asked, shivering in disgust. "He was literally undressing you with his eyes. So gross!"
"He's a total perv," I agreed. "And, he thought we were groupies when I told him we were friends of the band. He couldn't believe that we were actually here to hear the music."
"Groupies? Ewwwww. Don't they like, sleep with the band and stuff? He thinks that's why we're here? Why would he even think that?"
I looked away guiltily then. I hadn't really explained what to expect when we got here, afraid Kelly would back out.
She caught me avoiding her eyes and was immediately suspicious. "What aren't you telling me Leila?"
"It's just...well...the band is a little...raw. They don't really get many girls at their shows. The music is hard edged and fast and angry."
I started towards the entrance to the main hall as I spoke. The music was getting louder, its frenetic energy making my friend noticeably apprehensive. I, on the other hand, felt my own pulse quicken with anticipation. So close.
Opening the doors we walked in, Kelly's eyes going wide as she took in the room. There were no disco balls, strobe lights and fog machines. There were no wannabe pop princesses working their best dance moves to Olivia Newton-John and Michael Jackson. Instead, the dance floor was crowded with mostly guys, their fists pumping in time with the hard driving rhythms screaming out of the PA's. Those not crammed up against the stage were dancing wildly, slamming their shoulders against each other aggressively.
"What circle of hell have you brought me to Leila?"
I slid a sideways glance at my friend and stifled an impulse to laugh at her horrified expression. "It's not really as bad as you think...."
The sentence was left unfinished as I had looked to the stage, my eyes immediately drawn to a mass of dirty blond hair as it swirled and shook, obscuring the face beneath it. I felt the familiar pressure tighten in my chest, my breathing becoming more rapid, every nerve ending in my body tingling with awareness of him. That's all it took, just being in the same room and I was a mess.
Unfortunately, to him I was his family, his anchor, the best friend he counted on to have his back while he lived his crazy rock and roll life. Sighing deeply, I was instantly reminded that things would be so much easier if I weren't completely and totally in love with him.
Had I known when I was nine years old that I would someday be in this pickle, would I have insisted on taking violin lessons instead of piano? Would I give up the years of friendship, the good times and special moments that made up the most important relationship I had ever had? Despite my unrequited love, despite how much it really sucked loving him and knowing it was pointless, I would never have chosen a different path, no matter the pain it caused me now.
That fateful day when I was nine years old, I found myself waiting in the front living room in the home of Mrs. Dolores Beecham, a widow who made ends meet by teaching piano to children of all ages and ability. My mom had insisted that learning an instrument was important for a well-rounded education, and had signed me up on the recommendation of a friend. It was my first day and my mom had dropped me extra early, but as Mrs. Beecham was still in with another student, I was forced to sit there nervously wondering what I was in for.
The front door opened unexpectedly and I jumped in my seat. A boy my age walked in, but stopped suddenly when he saw me there watching him. Sitting down in another chair, he dropped his head down, his blond locks doing a poor job of hiding the flush of his cheeks. I could see he was uncomfortable, and I was surprised by how much I wished that he wasn't.
When finally Mrs. Beecham appeared, she ushered out the previous student and then motioned for both of us to follow her. The boy and I gave each other a confused look, but I shrugged my shoulders and followed, and he fell in line behind me. It turns out that our moms had agreed to semi private lessons since our teacher was extremely popular and booked solid. I wasn't sure how much I liked the idea of having to learn the piano anyway, but now to have to stumble through it in front of this strange boy I didn't know, I didn't think it would do at all. But my protests fell on deaf ears and the next week I was back in Mrs. Beecham's back parlor, plunking out notes next to the strange blond boy.
Turns out the boy's name was James, and we lived in the same Southern California town but went to different elementary schools. He refused to even look at me those first few weeks, much less talk to me. Not that there was much opportunity to talk with Mrs. Beecham around, she liked the sound of her own voice more than anything. Over time though the ice began to crack, especially as we had a shared enemy in our teacher. She was strict and controlling, and we both found ourselves chafing under her constant barrage of nit pickings. We would make faces when she wasn't looking, rolling our eyes at her superior attitude. We developed our own unspoken language, keeping ourselves entertained and sane as our classes went on for weeks and then months. After every lesson, we'd end up sitting on the front porch waiting for our moms to pick us up, and we found each other surprisingly easy to talk to, once we got over our shyness. I was a bit of a tomboy back then and we discovered we shared the same love of the outdoors, comic books, comedies, and a growing interest in music. We'd convince one of our moms to take us to the movies, go skating, or ride roller-coasters at the nearest amusement park, but mostly though, we'd meet up and ride our bikes everywhere, exploring every inch of our town. The friendship deepened, and when two years later we both ended up at the same junior high as 6th graders, James and I had become best friends.
It's a funny thing being a kid, you don't worry about what other people think, you don't prescribe to the social norms that adults do. Kids just accept and embrace what is, not what others think should be. We never thought twice about the fact that he was a boy and I was a girl. We didn't care that my parents were happily married and well off, and that his parents were on the verge of divorcing and struggling to keep things afloat. We didn't care that James' family were strict Christian Scientists, while my family had a loose philosophy when it came to anything religious. Those things never mattered to us. James was deeply introverted and I wasn't much better, but in each other we found a kindred spirit, and we pulled strength from the other. The world was not so scary a place because we had each other's back. Always.
At some point, James gave up on piano and moved on to drums and then guitar. He was talented, even at nine I knew music was in his blood just like I'd discovered it was in mine. I stuck with the piano and took up singing when I got into high school. We joked about starting a band, but he refused to even consider throwing in some Foreigner or Def Leppard with all the Black Sabbath and Aerosmith he planned on playing, so we decided that it would only be fair if we each had our own group. I never did, sticking with the school jazz ensemble and glee club instead, but James was unwavering in his determination, and I sat through countless auditions and rehearsals for all his different band incarnations that formed and broke up throughout high school. I didn't mind though cuz it felt natural to be there, bouncing around ideas, giving feedback, watching and marveling at the talent developing in front of me. Looking back, I'm pretty sure that was when my feelings started to deepen. We'd always been connected, always been on some other wavelength than the rest of the world, but watching him flourish through music, maturing and taking control of his life, what I began to feel went beyond pride and admiration.
I knew it for certain when his mom died from cancer when we were sixteen. Watching him go through the heartbreak of losing his mother, I felt like his pain was my pain. He pushed everyone else away but he knew better than to try that bullshit with me. I sat with him and held his hand, and when he finally let himself cry, I held him tight, willing him to let me take some of his grief into me so that he didn't have to carry it alone. I cried along with him, but my tears were for him, not for his mom. I knew then, I knew that I loved him.
James moved in with one of his older half-brothers for his last two years of high school, and since they lived in the next town over, he had to transfer schools. It was half pain and half relief not seeing him every day. Now that my feelings were so clear and there was little chance of them disappearing in the immediate future, I wasn't sure how I was going to keep them from affecting our friendship. The weekdays were easier with him gone, but every Friday without fail, I'd walk out the front door of Downey High, only to see James sitting on the hood of his beat up truck waiting for me. I knew he ditched his last Friday class to be there, and I was touched that he was so committed to keeping our friendship intact. Every week, I lived for the moment he'd see me across the busy parking lot and his face would break into the most beautiful smile. People who didn't know James well assumed he didn't even know how to smile. He did, he mostly just saved it for the people who knew him best, like me. That smile would leave me breathless, and then he'd scoop me into a bear hug which left me a jangled mass of nerves. In less than 30 seconds, James would destroy the distance between him and my heart that I'd spent the week so carefully erecting. Then we'd jump into his car, grab a slushy at 7/11, and head over to his buddy Hugh's house for band practice. Afterwards, sometimes we'd all go to a club to hear a band, sometimes someone was having a party, but usually James would drive me back to Downey and we'd pull into a city park and lay back on the hood of his car and look up at the stars. We'd talk then, catching each other up on the week's events, about music, about life. Sometimes we'd just sit there in silence, content to be in each other's company and not feeling pressured to fill up the void with chatter. I loved those times, even when I felt my heart slamming painfully in my chest at the nearness of him. Those moments were so intimate, so special, but it was a battle to keep from blurting out my feelings. I wanted so badly to pull his lips down to mine and tell him without words how much I loved him. But of course I didn't, because it would ruin everything. So I learned to accept the pain and let it wash over me; I became an expert masochist.
To stay sane, I threw myself into my music and my studies, anything to distract me from my hopeless situation. I needed things that were mine and that had nothing to do with James, knowing at some point I was going to have to move on and create a future for myself that didn't center on him. I learned how to play the guitar and wrote my own music, most with themes of love unfilled. For obvious reasons, I kept those locked away in a drawer in my bedroom.
I even went so far as to try dating a little, thinking that the old adage, "The quickest way to get over someone is to meet someone new" would apply to me. I'd been hopeful at my chances for success at first. Even though I wasn't the most outgoing of girls—cheerleaders made me want to gag—I was friendly and had broken out of most of my shyness, especially once I hit senior year and gained that extra cockiness of a teen who's got one foot out the door. And not to sound conceited, I knew I wasn't lacking in the looks department. I never dressed to enhance my appearance, preferring casual jeans and t-shirts, but despite making no efforts, I'd been voted hottest girl at the school the last two years running. I know it pissed the hell out of the girls who spent hours a day slathering on make-up and picking out just the right slutty outfit, when clearly I could care less. It wasn't something that defined me, I didn't use it to get ahead or act stuck-up, it wasn't something I tried to achieve or had any hand in, it was the luck of the draw and somehow I'd landed on the winning side of the DNA lottery. I'd inherited my mom's thick dark blonde hair, but days out in the Southern California sun had added streaks of caramel. I tanned pretty easily, and the golden color only emphasized my eye color's unusual pale shade of green flecked with grey. I tended to think my mouth was too wide, but others convinced me that it only added to my unique beauty. James said that when I smiled, it was contagious. That was the only time he ever made anything that sounded remotely close to a compliment about my looks, the rest of the time he was oblivious. I'm not even sure that he even recognized that I was a different sex than him. If I hadn't stumbled across some Playboys stashed in his room, I would have begun to wonder about his sexual orientation. The boy was definitely attracted to girls, just not me. So I said to fuck with James and went about getting a date. Things didn't go exactly as planned.
First I had to find a willing guy, and that proved harder than expected. It seemed the general population of my high school were under the impression that James and I had been, and were still, a couple. The first time I heard this, my initial impulse had been to belly laugh. I sobered pretty quickly though when the irony of the situation hit me. I couldn't get a date because everyone incorrectly assumed I was the girlfriend of the guy I was trying to get over by dating other guys. What a tangled fucking web. Though I guess I only had myself to blame by spending so much time with him in the first place and turning down the guys who got up the nerve to ask me out anyway. So yeah, that blew.
Eventually, it got around school that I was a free agent, and I was pleasantly surprised when one afternoon when the first string running back for the varsity football team asked me to go to the movies. Everything seemed to be going fine at first when Matt picked me up at home and passed the parent test beautifully. He was well-mannered, handsome, polite, and he never drove his mom's station wagon above 25mph. That should have been my first tip off. He opened the door for me, insisted on purchasing the tickets and all the snacks, and kept his hands to himself the entire movie. I was starting to wonder if this guy was too good to be true. But as it turned out, he was that good. A good guy. No hidden mean streak or wild side, just a sweet, nice, wholesome guy. But where was the fire, a spark, something that told me this guy was going to take life by the balls? We went on three more dates, but I realized I didn't want to be with someone who didn't view the future as an adventure. So he very sweetly conceded to being just friends and I was back to square one.
The next guy was Craig, student body treasurer, honor student and apparent secret sex addict. After spending the night fighting off his wandering hands and "accidental" gropes, one swift elbow into his nuts later, I was walking home alone wondering if my luck was going to change.
Then there was Shane, surfer dude. Every date was at the beach so he could show me off to his buddies, but then they'd all hop on their boards for hours, leaving the "chicks" to sit around and talk about celebrity gossip and fad diets.
Ryan: funny, smart, closeted gay. Kyle: gorgeous, sweet, dumb as a post. Dean: asshole!!!!
My last attempt turned out to be the final straw. On the outside, Johnny seemed just right; good-looking but not full of himself, smart but not pretentious. I made sure this time to hang out with him at school, to make sure there was less chance of unwanted surprises later. Three weeks after he asked me, we finally went out. I didn't know what he had planned, so I was pleasantly surprised when he picked me up and took me to a happening restaurant up in West Hollywood packed with a kaleidoscope of characters. We were getting along great, laughing at how L.A. the whole scene was. When we were finished with dinner, I figured we would be heading back home, but instead, he led us around the block to a hole-in-the-wall club, live metal music blasting out into the night. I knew this place, I'd been there plenty of times with James and our friends. Killing the mood doesn't even begin to cover how I felt. The mood was shot, stabbed and run over with a semi. Johnny didn't even notice though as he ushered me in and got us a table. Using fake ID's, like all seasoned L.A. club kids, we ordered beers and then Johnny opened the flood gates. Turns out he was a closeted metal head. And not just a fan, but a faaaaaan. I sat there next two hours while he waxed poetic on the merits of Sabbath over Priest, how bull it was that bands like Def Leppard were even considered metal at all, and whether Lemmy was actually God. And then when I thought it couldn't get any worse, he brought up James. He'd heard some badly recorded rehearsal sessions from James' latest band Phantom Lord, and thought if Lemmy wasn't God, then perhaps James was. Of course he knew that we were close, and then I began to wonder how much of his pursuit was about me or about my best friend. It physically hurt to sit there and keep a neutral expression while he went on and on, asking question after question about everything from James' musical influences, to what kind of cereal he ate. Most of all though, I hated being in a place where I'd spent so many fun hours with James. This was our world, it felt wrong being there with someone else.
So dating was a bust. How could I have gone on so many dates and come up with nothing to show for it; no new boyfriend and just as in love with James as ever? Was I predisposed to find fault with them all because they weren't him? Did I ever even give them a chance or were they doomed before they started? Had he shaped my idea of the perfect guy, or was it that inherently, he was my perfect guy and he just happened to already be my best friend? I wasn't sure I'd ever be able to answer that.
After my failed dating attempts, I decided to put the whole idea on the back-burner and just focus on the things I could control. Graduation was looming and I had to nail down my college decision. It was, I knew, the perfect opportunity to make a real break from James, as my first choice was to attend the prestigious music program at U.C. Berkeley. I'd be at the other end of the state and I'd have a better chance of moving on with a six hour drive between us.
I had just made a final decision about my future when the night of my high school's spring music concert arrived. I was performing with both the jazz ensemble and the glee club, and my parents, my younger brother Robbie, and James were all attending. Knowing he would be watching made my nerves just that much more on edge, especially since he'd never really heard me sing. I'd plunked out notes on guitar or my small keyboard during his band rehearsals, but singing I'd kept for myself.
Jazz band was up first and I was opening our segment doing vocals on the Billie Holiday classic, Good Morning Heartache. Yeah, I like to keep my song choices thematically reflective of my life. Anyway, my mom and I had found a beautiful vintage dress in gray satin, and she'd done my hair in curls with a classic shade of red on my lips. Even though I'd never looked or felt so glamorous, stepping onto the dark stage to perform for the first time ever, I'd never known such terror and such unbridled exhilaration in all my life.
The band settled in behind me, which was my cue to begin the song a cappella as our teacher had arranged. Taking a deep breath, I felt the music come through me and fill me as I began to sing, the joy of making music taking me on a high that was indescribable to anyone who wasn't a musician. I sang the first few verses leisurely, knowing the low and smoky tone of my voice matched the melancholy of the song perfectly. The stage lights came up slowly as the band joined; the piano, drums, muted sax and then clarinet, layering on top of each other. I could see out into the audience now, and instead of feeling more afraid, I felt more self-assured, my confidence growing as I made eye contact with different people in the first few rows. I could tell I had them, all of them, and it was an incredible feeling, one I knew I would never get tired of.
Finally I let my gaze find James, my sureness momentarily deserting me as I wondered at his reaction. He was watching me intently, but the distance was too far to read his eyes. Catching my look, he broke into a huge grin, the approval I saw there sending my confidence through the ceiling. Hoping I wasn't blushing too much, the band and I brought the song to a close and were all gratified by the loud and raucous reaction from the audience. I could hear James hooting and hollering my name as I made my way quickly to my spot at the piano for the next song, trying hard not to smile too widely.
After jazz band finished their set, I slipped into a simple black dress for the glee club performance. Our teacher, Mr. Hardy, had an unhealthy love of 70's music, so there was a lot of ABBA and disco, but he did let a few of us seniors pick our own song to perform. I'd kept the 70's theme by picking Simple Man by Lynyrd Skynyrd, and I was able to recruit some guys from the concert band group and a few other members of the glee club sang back-up. I know it must have looked odd dressed to the nines in my gown and done up hair, and then settling my beat up Gibson acoustic over my shoulder as I took my spot center stage.
Strumming the guitar a couple times, I leaned into my mic as I looked out into the crowd. "This song is for all of us about to make the jump into the real world. Always remember who you are and who has yer back."
I started to pick the first few notes of the song, and I heard a familiar "Yeah!" from the audience. Choking back a grin, I settled in to sing, the bluesy-ness of the song a good choice for my voice and range.
I'll admit it, there was one point in the song where I couldn't stop from looking to James. The lyrics were especially poignant, and I thought of him every time I sang them.
...Oh, take your time, don't live too fast
Troubles will come and they will pass
I locked eyes with James as I sang the next line.
You'll find a woman and you'll find love
And don't forget, son, there is someone up above
And be a simple kind of man...
Tearing my gaze away, I purposely avoided looking at him for the rest of the performance.
All too soon the concert was over, so I grabbed my stuff and headed out to find my family. Stopped repeatedly by people who wanted to compliment me on my performances, I was flushed with embarrassment by the time I found them. My mom and dad took turns hugging me back and forth, my mom wiping tears of pride from her face. Even Robbie gave me a hug after first checking there wasn't anyone he knew observing. James hung back, watching my family oh and ah over me. Family friends came over to say hi and give their congratulations, and soon my folks were caught up in conversation while Robbie wandered off to find one of his buddies in the orchestra. I found myself alone with James, and he still hadn't said anything. Shyly, I looked up at him to see if I could discern his reaction. The last thing I expected was for him to be looking down at me with a fierce scowl.
"I can't believe you," he finally spoke, shaking his head. "You think you know someone, and then they turn out to be a total stranger. I just don't know ya at all Lei." He sniffed loudly, turning up his nose in disgust.
"What?" I was completely bewildered.
He looked down at me again, raising an eyebrow in contempt. Then I saw his lips begin to twitch, and quickly his face dissolved into a wide grin. "You should see yer face!" he snickered. "Of course I'm not pissed, you were fuckin' incredible!"
He whooped enthusiastically as he scooped me up into a congratulatory hug. I was giddy and relieved at his reaction; his opinion mattered most to me, especially when it came to music. If I'd impressed James, then maybe I had a real shot at making music my career. Setting me down, he kept his hands on my waist for a moment as he gazed down at me, a goofy smile plastered to his face. Reaching out a finger, he carefully brushed a curl off my cheek. My breath caught at the tenderness in his eyes.
"No bullshitting Leila, I never knew ya had that kinda gift. You were amazing!"
"Thanks Jamie," I murmured gazing up at him, calling him by the nickname only I used.
"There's the girl of the hour!" The voice of my music teacher Mr. Hardy shattered the sweet moment and I had to stop myself from groaning in frustration.
"Hey Mr. Hardy," I greeted him un-enthusiastically as I watched James step back, his face shuttering as it always did whenever he had to interact with people he didn't know.
"Ms. McKinnon, I don't think I'm showing any favoritism by saying your pieces were the real standout of the evening. I've fielded quite a number of compliments on your behalf."
"Umm, that's nice to hear."
I really just wanted James to come back and touch my face again, but he was pretending to study a splotch on the auditorium ceiling.
"So have you given your final answer to UC Berkeley? Their music program is excellent."
That got Jamie's attention. I hadn't told him about Berkeley yet.
"Yes, I wrote to them yesterday"—I kept my eyes on James—"...accepting their offer to attend."
I watched how his eyes widened in surprise and then darkened with anger.
"Good, good, glad to hear it," Mr. Hardy continued, unaware of the tension building. "Well I've got to go lock up the instruments in the band room. Wonderful job Ms. McKinnon, wonderful!"
He hurried off and James and I were left in silence.
"When...when were ya gonna tell me?" I could hear the hurt in his voice and it killed me.
"Later tonight when we had a moment alone. I'm sorry you heard it from someone else first."
"Berkeley Lei? Berkeley is at the other end of the state, it might as well be on the other side of the fuckin' planet."
"It's not that far. Five or six hours and I'm home. Besides, I'll be back down a whole bunch and you could come and visit."
He stood with his arms crossed over his chest, and I recognized the stubborn expression on his face. "Yeah, well I'll be workin' all the time, and once I put together another band, I'll be busy with rehearsals and gigs."
Now it was my turn to be hurt.
"So I'm just supposed to sit around waitin' 'til you have time for me, is that it? Well screw you Jamie, I get to have a life too! Why dontcha schedule me in sometime around the holidays, and I'll see if I can make it."
His face crumbled as he realized how unfair he was being. Quickly placing a hand on each of my shoulders, he peered down at me shamefaced. "Fuck, I didn't mean to be such an ass," he muttered. "I'm happy for ya Leila, you deserve the best of everything and...Berkeley will be amazing. I...I just hate the idea of not havin' you around. I like bein' able to see ya whenever I want."
"I know...me too."
He dropped his hands to his sides and was quiet for a moment before giving me a weak attempt at a smile. "Look, let's not think about it right now. We should be celebratin' yer big night. How 'bout we jump in the car and take a drive to the beach and stick our feet in the ocean?"
I nodded in agreement, appreciating his attempt to make me feel better. Grinning with relief, he swung an arm around my shoulders as he grabbed my guitar and steered us out into the warm California night.
~
A few weeks later and James and I were in our usual Friday spot on the hood of his car looking up at the night sky. By some unspoken agreement, we didn't talk about my plans to leave in the fall.
"My school is goin' ape shit right now over prom." James didn't try to hide his disgust. "You'd think that nothin' in the entire universe is more important than dressin' up in a monkey suit, spendin' too much money on a girl you'll never see again after graduation, only to hang out the whole night with the same idiots you can barely stand during school."
"I take it yer not goin' to yer prom then?" I asked, doing my best to sound disinterested.
"Hell no. Not even if someone paid me."
I looked down quickly to hide the disappointment in my eyes. "Yeah...I didn't think you would go."
Silenced settled between us.
"Of course...there's nothin' sayin' I can't take you to yer prom." Jamie was looking at me sideways.
"But you just said you weren't goin'."
"I said I wasn't goin' to mine, I didn't say anything about not takin' ya to yers. I know girls like this kinda shit, so ya know, I figured you'd wanna go." His brow creased and he looked away nervously. "That is, if yer not already goin' with someone else. Then this whole thing would be really awkward."
I tried to suppress the giant grin working at the corners of my mouth. I knew he was only asking because he was my best friend and thought he was doing me a favor by asking. Honestly, I didn't care. I was going to the freaking prom with James!
"I wouldn't wanna go with anyone else." Somehow I managed to keep my tone casual.
I stole a look over at him, and he had a self-satisfied smile on his face.
"Of course," I added mischievously, "I'll expect a limo, corsage, dinner at a fancy restaurant, and obviously you'll need to rent a tux."
His eyes widened in horror. "Oh hell no! I can deal with the rest, but no fuckin' way am I wearin' a..." His voice trailed off as he noticed me trying to fight back laughter. "You suck! You really, really suck."
But he was starting to chuckle too, and soon the two of us were rolling at the image of Jamie in a tuxedo.
The night of prom arrived, and though James did not wear a tux, he had managed to clean up rather nicely wearing jeans, a white dress shirt, a black tie loose at the neck, and a black suit jacket. He looked so handsome, that I almost tripped on the stairs as I made my grand entrance in my knee length strapless gown. I know it must have been a trick of the light, but I was certain that when he turned to look up at me, for a moment, his eyes darkened with some emotion that left me breathless. Whatever it was, it was gone in a moment and replaced with a goofy smile.
"Hey Short Stack."
His eyes were twinkling with mischief as he called me by his nickname for me, and immediately I was on guard.
"What?" I looked down at my dress, thinking maybe I'd spilled something on it already.
"Nothin'. Just wondering what kinda Kung Fu move yer mom had to use to get ya into a dress."
He snickered and I gave him a not too gentle shove.
Just then, my mom came in followed by my dad holding the Polaroid camera. "Ohhh, look at you two." My mom was beaming with pride. "You both are gorgeous."
"Thanks Mrs. McKinnon." James was blushing furiously.
Now it was my time to snicker.
"Ok, ok, let's get a couple of pictures before you head out," ny dad insisted, directing us to stand over by the fireplace in the family room.
We stood next to each other suddenly feeling awkward.
"Oh wait!" Jamie spoke up abruptly. "I forgot something."
He ran out of the room and came back a minute later holding a clear plastic box. Opening it, he carefully removed a wrist corsage made up of delicate white flowers that perfectly complimented my pale aqua silk and chiffon dress.
"You said I had to bring a corsage." He grinned as he lifted my left hand and carefully slipped it over my wrist.
I was touched by his thoughtfulness, and I'll admit it, my hand in his felt really good; I was barely aware that my dad was taking pictures.
"Ok, great." My mom broke the moment. "Let's get you with your arms around each other."
"Huh?" Jamie looked slightly freaked.
"Relax dear," she scolded warmly. "We just want to make sure we get the proper prom pose. Now you step over behind Leila and wrap your arms around her waist."
James did as he was told, but I could tell he felt uncomfortable doing it. It occurred to me that if I was any other girl, he'd have been more than happy to oblige. Still, when I felt his arms slide around me pulling me up against him, for a moment I could imagine that I was the only girl he wanted to hold.
"Smile Leila."
Ten minutes later, after many photos and promises to be safe, we headed out of the house. Expecting Jamie's car, I was surprised to see his brother's much nicer Oldsmobile parked in front. Looking at James, he shrugged.
"I know it's not a limousine, but it's better than my piece of shit."
"No, it's great. I'm just surprised Dave let you take it."
"Yeah well, he said we both deserved to have the best prom ever and then he gave me the keys."
We got to the car, but Jamie waved my hand away as I reached for the handle. Opening the door himself with an exaggerated flourish, I slipped into the front seat. The dress rode up high on my thighs and I quickly yanked the material back into place, looking up to make sure James hadn't noticed. He was holding the door still, but seemed to have found something fascinating about the rubber seal on the window. Seeing that I was in securely in, he closed the door and came around the other side.
Jamie selected an Aerosmith cassette and we took off to grab a bite to eat at our favorite taco place. Despite the formal clothes and the earlier awkwardness, we quickly fell into easy conversation just like we always did. We talked about graduation and our plans for the summer; James was looking for full-time work while he figured out where to go with his music. Even though we hadn't discussed Berkeley since the night of my concert, we both already felt the weight of my departure. Things were going to change very soon, though I didn't know then how much.
An hour later, we arrived at the gym to find the prom in full swing. The room was decorated with a Stairway to Heaven theme, with white balloons grouped together like clouds, and somehow they'd constructed an actual curved staircase painted in gold metallic. The teacher chaperones all wore angel wings and halos, and James and I doubled over in laughter to see his old six foot, 240lb football coach dressed like a cherub.
We moved around the room stopping and saying hi to people we knew. The prom committee had sprung for a cover band, and they didn't seem to be half bad as we paused to watch them. Unfortunately, I didn't notice Craig approaching us until it was too late. He'd been one of the worst of the guys I had dated earlier in the school year. The jackass had tried to put his hand up my shirt several times on our one date, so I'd elbowed him hard in the nuts. Apparently, he thought I was only playing hard to get as he'd continued to ask me out despite my adamant "no's".
"Hey Leila." He ignored Jamie completely.
"Craig," I said flatly, my lip curling in contempt.
"Man, you look really, really good tonight. I mean, fuckin' A, really good." His lascivious gaze went up and down my body, and I knew there wasn't enough hot water and soap on the planet to make me feel clean again. "How about ya come dance with me?" He slid a finger down my bare arm.
I was about to smack his hand away, when I felt James come up close and slide an arm possessively around my waist. "Hey asshole, get yer hand off my girl," he growled low.
Though he was skinny as a stick, Jamie still towered over Craig, and the look on his face made it clear he had no problem fucking up anyone who crossed him.
Craig yanked his hand off me. "I...I didn't think you two were a thing," he stuttered, his eyes going wide at the fierceness in Jamie's eyes.
"Well ya thought wrong. I'd fuckin' walk away if I was you."
Craig took him at his word and beat a hasty retreat.
I breathed a sigh of relief and looked sideways at James to thank him. He was staring after Craig, his face tense, a muscle ticking in his clenched jaw.
"Quick thinking"—I tried to distract him—"making him think that I'm yer girlfriend."
"That guy's a dick," he muttered angrily.
"You dunno the half of it," I mumbled, loving the feeling of Jamie's arm still at my waist.
I felt him stiffen at my words, and his arm tightened around me reflexively. "Has he hassled you before?"
Anger was building again in his voice. I didn't want him to get into a fight, so I was quick to defuse. "No, nothin' to worry about, he's a pervert with all the girls." I figured it would be wise to leave out the part where I actually went on a date with the jerk. "Don't worry, karma will kick his ass eventually."
"Maybe." James didn't look convinced. "I don't want him messin' with you again, so I think it would be good if we just let him continue to think we're a couple."
"Um, ok. If you think it'll help."
The fact that I didn't break out in song, clear the dance floor with a forward triple hand spring, or scream hallelujah, is a real testament to my self-control. Somehow I kept it together as I spent the evening snugged up tight against his hip, his hand securely around my waist as we walked around. He doted on me, bringing me punch and food, and I even got him on the dance floor when they played songs that weren't too offensive to his metal sensibilities. It was without a doubt, the most perfect night of my life.
The best though was when the band started in on the Eagles' I Can't Tell You Why. James held his hand out expectantly, and without hesitation, I placed my hand in his and was led out to the dance floor. We stopped under the spinning disco ball, the points of light sprinkling over us like stars in the sky as he slipped his hands around my waist. My arms immediately stretched up to wrap around his neck, and we started to sway to the music, an awkward silence falling between us as we avoided eye contact.
Suddenly, I felt Jamie lean down and gather me closer, his lips sending shock waves through my body as they brushed against my right ear. "Asshole is watchin'," he whispered in my ear, sending more sparks through me.
Who was I to look a gift horse in the mouth?
"We better make this believable then."
Before he could ask what I meant, I placed a soft kiss on his neck. I know he wasn't expecting it as I felt him tense up. Grazing my lips along his skin, I moved upwards, placing a second kiss along his jawline. More than anything, I wanted to continue my trail of kisses up to his lips, but I knew it would be a mistake. He was pretending, I was not, and if I kissed him now, he'd know it for sure. Instead, I tucked my head under his chin and laid my head on his chest, content to listen to his heart beating as we swayed to the rest of the song.
The rest of the night was a blur, and honestly, I couldn't let go of the melancholy that had settled over me after our dance. It sure had felt real, even if for just a moment. We listened to music on the radio on the car ride home, neither of us speaking. When we pulled up to my house, he hopped out and chivalrously opened the door for me, even going so far as to offer me his hand. That one sweet action reminded me of what a wonderful friend I had in James. No matter my feelings for him, I didn't want to fuck up what we had.
Pasting on an overly bright smile, I took his hand and climbed out. "I do declare"—I did my best Scarlett O'Hara—"you southern men have just the nicest manners."
"Southern?" He raised a questioning eyebrow.
"Ok, fine Southern California," I amended.
He rolled his eyes at my terrible joke, and I gave him a playful push as we walked up to my door.
'You know though, that was really nice of you to play out that whole charade tonight." I kept my voice light. "I think we totally had Craig fooled."
"Ya think?"
"Oh hell yeah. You scared the shit outta him, I don't think he'll come near me now."
"Yeah, well I am a badass." Jamie bobbed his head arrogantly.
"Umm ok, sure." I added just the right teasing tone.
"Hey, are you doubting my badassery?"
"Badassery, that's not even a word. You just made that up."
"When yer a badass like me, you can make up words any time you want."
That got me laughing, and whatever discomfort left over from earlier was gone. I invited him in, knowing he could never pass up on my mom's homemade treats, and we sat for hours in the living room talking, laughing, and scarfing down a dozen of my mom's chocolate toffee brownies.
~
The next month passed swiftly, and suddenly it was graduation day. I attended Jamie's ceremony the day before mine, sitting with his brothers and his younger sister. I knew that James had invited his dad, but he'd given some half-ass excuse for not coming. James tried to play it off as if it was no big deal but, I knew he was hurt. When his name was called to receive his diploma, I screamed extra loud, wanting him to know that there were people there for him on his important day. Even at a distance across the football field, I could see a grin spread across his face.
The next day was my turn, and when I made way up onto the stage, sure enough, "Leila!" roared across the stadium, and I was stifling fits of laughter as I shook hands with the principal and school district superintendent. Later, when I met up with Jamie and my family, he tried to play it off like he was innocent of embarrassing me in front of the entire graduating class.
Following the ceremony, we headed back to my house where my parents were throwing a dual graduation party for both of us. Many of our family and friends were invited, and it turned into quite the bash. In the evening, we lit a fire in the backyard and all of us kids hung out around it. James brought his guitar, and even got me to sing lead on the Rolling Stones' Wild Horses. It was the first time I'd sung while he accompanied, and it was amazing making music with him. He grinned at me the entire song, making it almost impossible to remember the words.
After that night, the summer passed at warp speed; Jamie and I were hell-bent on packing in as much as we could before I left for Berkeley at the end of August. He moved out of his brother's place and in with his buddy Ron from his days in Downey, and they started up a new band that included some guys from James' previous group. He got a job too working at a sticker factory, something to pay the bills. No matter how busy he was though, he made time for me. We spent lazy days at the beach, evenings we'd head to the clubs to hear live music or hang out with friends; but no matter our plans, we'd still end the day on the hood of his car talking and looking at the stars at our favorite Downey park.
"That'll be us one day," he cryptically announced late one evening as we stared at the night sky.
"What's that?" I asked, smothering a yawn.
"Stars. We'll be stars."
"Floating balls of gas?
He nudged me with his elbow. "Shut up, you know what I mean. Not like stars in the sky, but stars who are famous and do whatever the fuck they want."
"But we'll never act like assholes and forget who we are or—"
"Where we came from," he cut in.
Something in his voice made me sit up to see his face better. He was looking upwards, but I knew he wasn't seeing the twinkling lights.
"Jamie, the things that have happened to you...they happened to you...not because of you. You don't have to...I dunno...define yourself by the bad things. There's been good stuff too."
He turned to look at me, but it was too dark to read his eyes. "What am I gonna do without you Leila when yer gone?" he asked softly. "Who's gonna keep me from goin' off the rails?"
The air was crackling with electricity, and I knew it would be so easy to lean down and kiss him and tell him I was always with him, because my heart was his.
"Then you call me, no matter the time of day or night." I sighed in defeat as I looked out at the trees barely visible in the night. "I know it won't be like it is now, but I'll be back down as much as I can. Besides, you'll be so busy with yer job and the band, you'll barely notice I'm not around."
"Bullshit."
"Yeah..." I agreed as I laid back down next to him, "total bullshit."
Berkeley was starting to feel more and more like the worse decision I'd ever made. What was I thinking moving so far away from everyone I loved? What would happen to James and me with so much distance between us, would it hurt our friendship? Would I fall out of love with him or even worse, would he fall in love with someone else? That was the question that scared me the most. As far as I knew, he'd never dated and always claimed to be too busy with his music to make the time. Of course I was relieved, it was hard enough being secretly in love with him, without having to contend with that. He was so incredibly shy, I'd never even seen him really make eye contact with a girl other than me. He was only comfortable with people he knew and when he was performing. But I knew it was only a matter of time before some girl saw through the introvert and discovered the amazing guy underneath. My heart squeezed at the thought. Yeah ok, strike my earlier statement, leaving was the right choice. Being in love with someone who didn't love me back was slowly eating away at me. I was stuck, unable to move forward until I figured out how to get over him. I already ached knowing what was ahead of me.
~
Pretty soon the day came to leave. My car was packed and I'd just said a tearful farewell with my family; even Robbie seemed sad about my leaving. I headed over to the house that James shared with Ron, trying to gear myself up for our goodbye.
Just as I was about to knock, the door opened and Ron stepped out, giving me a wide smile. "Hey Lei Lei."
"Hey Ronnie, is James around?"
"Yeah, but watch out, he's in a shit mood."
"Thanks, for the warning." I chuckled. "I guess I'll see you when I'm back for Thanksgiving."
"Oh right, yer takin' off for college." He nodded his head. "Yeah, that explains it."
I was mystified. "Explains what?"
He jerked his head towards the interior of the house, but before I could say anything, he was reaching out to hug me. "Gotta go before I'm late for work. You take care of yourself."
I echoed his goodbye before stepping inside and closing the door behind me. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the dim interior, but I saw that the front room was empty. Walking towards the back, I went straight to the garage which had been set-up as a practice space. James was sitting with his back to the door noodling on his guitar, but staring off into space. I'd never heard the tune before, but it had a hauntingly sad quality.
"Workin' on a new song?" I asked quietly.
Without turning around, he shrugged his shoulder. "Yeah. I call it, My Best Friend's Ditching My Ass for Greener Pastures."
I was surprised by the bitterness in his voice. "Oh come on Jamie, you know that's not true."
"Isn't it?"
I threw my hands up, even though he still had his back turned. "Of course not. I'm not ditching you. You know how much you matter to me."
"I thought I did," he answered sullenly. "I thought it was you and me against the world...but now yer up and leavin' me. Just like everyone else has."
I sucked in a sharp breath. "You know that's not true! I'm not leavin' for good... and you'll always be the most important person in my life."
I waited in vain for him to respond, but his silence spoke volumes. We'd avoided talking about this moment all summer and now that it was here, the reality of my leaving was like a megaton bomb to our friendship. I didn't want to leave things like this though, but he didn't seem to want to hear anything I had to say. I felt tears begin to well up in my eyes. Damn him for making this harder than it already was.
"Alright, well I just came to say goodbye." Still nothing. Hurt and anger burned through me. "Fine. Goodbye Jamie. Have a nice life."
With that, I rushed back down the hall, tears rolling freely down my face. I was almost at the front door when suddenly I felt strong arms wrap around me from behind, preventing me from moving.
"Let...go." I struggled against him but he held me tight. "Let go!" The words came out on a sob.
"I'm sorry Lei, I'm so sorry," he spoke hoarsely against my ear. "It's just that...it's killin' me that yer leavin'."
Finally, I stopped resisting and let him hold me.
"I don't wanna leave you either," I choked out. "I'm scared of bein' all alone, scared of failing. Bein' away from you most of all."
"I know, I know. I've been so busy thinkin' about how I felt, I didn't stop to think how you were handling it. I've been a selfish asshole and I'm sorry." He turned me in his arms and wrapped me up tight, my head resting against his chest. "I don't think ya know how much I've come to depend on you Leila." He spoke quietly, his hand running soothingly up and down my back. "My mom's gone and my dad could care less, but you...you've always been there for me, we've always had each other to count on. When you told me about goin' to Berkeley, it freaked me out knowin' I wouldn't have ya around, not like it's always been." He paused for a long moment. "I realized something though, something I've known for a long time but was too chicken shit to say out loud."
Something in his tone caused bells and sirens to go off in my head. He wasn't...wait...was he about to tell me that he had feelings for me? Had I read him wrong all this time? Could it possibly be true? My heart began to hammer loudly and I held my breath as he continued speaking.
"I came to the realization that...nothing else matters...not even my music...nothing matters more to me than you." His voice was deep with emotion. "You are my family. You are the one who supports me and cares about me like family should. And now that yer goin' away, I needed ya to know how important you are to me."
A fresh wave of tears rolled down my cheeks and I squeezed my eye shut against his bittersweet words. He loved me...but he loved me like family.
"So if you need me," he continued, unaware how his word were affecting me, "I don't care what it is, you call me and I'll be there. Got it? No matter what, I'll always come when ya need me. That's what families do."
I could hear the heartfelt sentiment in his voice.
"That's what families do," I repeated his words in a whisper, feeling my heart constrict.
James held me for a while, until finally I reluctantly pulled out of his arms. Then he walked me out to my car, and with one last hug, buckled me back in and sent me on my way. I could see him in my rear-view mirror, standing out in the middle of the street waving goodbye until the distance grew too great and he disappeared from view.