26. SICK (IV)
Two and I are at Talley’s Tatters. It’s Wednesday afternoon. We’re sick, but not that sick, and we’re listening to a collection of Elvis covers. Two isn’t wearing a wig, as has become habit.
The door opens.
Derek walks in. He’s skinnier than I remember, but not like us. His is a form of his stature, ours a form of sickness. He looks at me and then Two and he does a double take at her bald head and he almost smiles but doesn’t.
“Jesus, Talley, are you okay?”
I watch Two. She has become nervous, her energy pulling inward, her right arm crossing her stomach. I know she’s thinking about her appearance and about being bald and about the love she’d believed to share with this man, the love she’d conjured in her childhood, the love that looked so much like passion yielding to suburban domestication.
“What are…”
“The hair?” Derek says.
“…you doing here?”
“I came to see…” Derek looks. He steps closer to Two. “Is there somewhere we can talk?”
“Talk ?” Two says.
“More privately?”
“I don’t have anything to say to you.”
“Baby, please.”
They both turn in my direction. I put up my hands to indicate I understand they want me gone. I get off the stool behind the counter.
“No, you’re good,” Two says. “Stay.”
“Then can we step outside?” Derek says.
“No.”
“Baby.”
“Not your baby.”
“Please.”
“Anything you have to say, you can say in front of…Mason.”
“Are you two…” Derek looks at Two, then me. I don’t turn my gaze, but stare even harder. Derek’s mind is sex, like most every other person’s. That’s how the world makes sense to him. That’s how he understands his ex-girlfriend’s refusal to speak to him— the only possible cause being another man, not himself, a complete denial of culpability for his actions.
Derek says, “You’ve got to be kidding me. Him? You’re fucking him?”
“What if I am?” Two says.
“Then you’re an even bigger slut than I thought.”
Two smiles. She looks down, rubbing her hand over her scalp. She looks back at Derek, still grinning. “You’re so fucking pathetic.”
Derek reaches forward and touches Two’s arm and she recoils and he frowns and says, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”
“There are no accidents.”
“What? Baby, that’s what I came here to talk about. What happened…it was an accident. I was drunk and one thing led to another and—”
“I pity you,” Two says.
“Can we please just talk in private?”
“Because you’re so full of shit and you have no idea.”
“I’m sorry.”
“The whole I’m a rock star thing is so trite. So false. You live in Denver. You play venues where you know the booking agent. You’re nothing.”
Derek makes another reach for Two’s arm. She slaps his hand. It’s Derek’s turn to laugh, to feign bewilderment. His body language becomes empathetic and he tries one more time. “People are worried. You’ve completely disappeared. Nobody’s seen you. Are you okay? Like health-wise and everything?”
“Never felt better.”
“Why don’t you come out tonight? No pressure with us or whatever, but just come hang out. Everyone misses you.”
“Everyone who hasn’t called in over a month?”
“What? Yeah. No. We’re worried,” he says. “I’m worried.”
“There are no accidents.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I was supposed to see you with those girls.”
“I was drunk, baby. Completely wasted. I’m so sorry. You have to believe me.”
Two reaches out her hand. She strokes the side of Derek’s face. He smiles. She rubs his cheek. She says, “Right here.” She moves her hands to Derek’s eyes. He closes his lids. He’s a born-again awaiting holy water. “And right here.” She brings her hand back to her side. Derek opens up his eyes; there’s hope there. I understand what she is doing and I love her and am proud like a parent or maybe a little brother.
“Those two places can’t lie.”
“I’m not—”
“Yes, yes you are. But that’s okay. I don’t fault you for this. You have no defense against deceit.”
“Baby.”
Two shakes her head. Derek understands this is a moment of finality. His energy builds. He rubs his nose with the back of his hand. He shakes his head, forces himself to smile.
“This is a mistake,” he says. He nods in my direction. “This fucking creep…not your finest moment.”
“It was great seeing you,” Two says.
“Whenever you’re done playing identity crisis with that freak, come find me. No, strike that. You had your chance.”
“And what a marvelous chance it was.”
Derek laughs. He backs up. He looks at me, trying to intimidate. It isn’t working because he feels my gaze lacking selfish fear. He turns back to Two. “Oh, and a quick pro tip: you looking fucking horrible with a shaved head.”
“ Thanks, babe.”
“Crazy,” Derek says. “You’re fucking crazy.”
“Love ya. Thanks for stopping in to visit.”
Derek struggles for a departing comment and then falters and shakes his head and walks to the door, slamming it as hard as he can on the way out. Two turns toward me. She smiles and I am out from behind the counter and I take her in my arms and her body shakes and she presses her head to mine and the whites of her eyes are bright and I don’t have to tell her I’m proud because she understands and “Blue Moon” plays and things are good.
Two says, “It’s time for our noon dose.”