Lara Reznik - The Girl From Long Guyland Page 6

He yanks off the hat. A ponytail falls out as he takes off his glasses.

  Oh my God. It’s Benjamin Franklin Jones!

  We agree to meet him at a local Starbucks. It seems surreal standing in line with Ben and Katie in the twenty-first century. Time hasn’t tainted Ben’s tall, dark, good looks. His long hair is tinged with gray, but still shiny. Oh Ben, if you only knew how often I thought about you over the years. How I wondered how different my life would be if it had been you instead of Chris.

  He gives Katie and me a quick once over. “You girls are still hot.”

  Katie smiles. “What did you expect?”

  He waves his hand. “A lot of chicks your age don’t look that great.”

  “That’s a left-handed compliment,” I say.

  Ben touches my face with the calloused hand of a construction worker.

  I push his hand away, thinking about how our relationship ended. “You left us to rot in the desert.”

  He shakes his head. “You ladies have no idea how I regretted… Chris—”

  “Don’t you dare blame it all on him,” I say. “It won’t work with me anymore.”

  His dark eyes rest coolly on my face. “You’re right. I was young and stupid to listen to him. I take full responsibility. I’m deeply sorry.”

  Katie smacks his arm. “Hell, it’s been over forty years. We forgive you. Right, Lai?”

  I shrug. “Why not?”

  He sighs. “Good. It’s critical we’re united now. We’re all in this together.”

  Katie smiles at him. Is she still smitten after all these years? Am I? He’s so different from both our husbands. Still a bad boy, I bet.

  Ben looks from Katie to me. “I want to impress on you ladies how important it is we find out what Denise wrote in the note.”

  I stare at him. “What if we can’t? You saw Denise’s brother.”

  He glares back. “You don’t have a choice, Laila.” He brushes away a strand of hair from his forehead. “When the private detective showed up at Chris’s house last week he was shocked, unprepared. While he did his best to stay cool—”

  I grab his arm. “And?”

  Ben squints. “Well, Chris told the P.I. Denise and Joey were your friends.”

  “What?” I feel faint once again and take a deep breath thinking about Allegra, my Yoga instructor. Om Shanti Shanti Shanti om. “What about the pact?”

  Ben takes my hand. “He didn’t break the pact. Just deflected the heat.”

  I barely digest what Ben has said when the ring of “Yesterday” from my iPhone interrupts. The caller ID shows Eduardo’s phone number. “I better answer this.”

  Ed’s voice sounds unsteady. “Laila, you need to get home ASAP.”

  “My God, has something happened to one of the boys?”

  “The boys are fine. There’s a private detective standing here with me. She wants to talk to you.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  The Window Pane

  Bridgeport, Connecticut, 1970

  Doc motored back down the stairs after announcing the news about Drake’s drug bust. Chris and I quickly dressed. Ben appeared shirtless with his long hair disheveled. Ivy followed him dressed in a Chinese silk robe. She looked different without makeup and glasses; bad skin, pinhole eyes. Had she and Ben been sleeping together?

  I had already slipped my sweater back on and zipped up my jeans. Chris slid on his Levis and buttoned up his shirt.

  “We have little time,” Ben said. “Anyone have an idea where we should crash?”

  I cleared my throat. “We could, like, go to my dorm.”

  Chris’s face lit up. “Far out. I’ve never slept in a chicks’ dormitory.”

  Ivy’s mouth screwed up tight like a withered apple core. “I’d rather go home than be with a bunch of stupid young girls.”

  Ben patted her ample rear end. “Why don’t you do that, baby? We’ll take up where we left off tomorrow.” He turned to Chris and me. “Let’s boogie.”

  It was well after three a.m. when Ben, Chris, and I, and two duffel bags entered my dorm room. As usual, Denise was spending the night with Joey. I thought no one heard us, but Katie Birnbaum materialized at my door in an oversized U.B. T-shirt and fuzzy slippers. She took one look at the guys and yanked me into the hallway. “Where did you find those two?”

  “They’re locals. The blonde goes to school part-time. I don’t know much about the tall one other than his name is Ben.”

  “They’re soooo cute. Does Ben have a girlfriend?”

  “I’ll find out.” What luck. Even Katie B. would think I was groovy now. She’d never given me the time of day before.

  Katie followed me inside. “I’ve got a bottle of Ripple in my room.”

  Before long word spread and the guys found themselves surrounded by my swooning Bodine dorm mates. Katie jammed in next to Ben, nearly pushing another girl off the bed. “Want to go for a drive?”

  His eyes flickered. “It’s kind of chilly out there, no?”

  “My Saab’s got heated seats,” Katie said.

  Chris glared at him. “No can do, man.”

  Ben squeezed Katie’s hand. “Shit. Can I take a rain-check?”

  “Anytime you want,” Katie said.

  We all sat drinking the wine out of tiny paper cups from the restroom. At dawn the girls migrated back to their rooms. Ben had fallen asleep on Denise’s bed. As Katie left, she reminded me to find out the scoop on him.

  Chris and I cuddled together on my bed. His blonde hair shimmered like gold in the shafts of sunlight peeking through the Venetian blinds. I envisioned myself making love to him. My body felt sexy and alive as I pictured him undressing me, stroking my body.

  I fell back asleep and awoke a few hours later as Chris and Ben were straggling out the door. “You’re leaving already?” I asked sleepily.

  Chris kissed my forehead. “Wanna tag along?”

  He might as well have proposed. “Yeah, sure, just give me a couple of minutes.” I made a quick bathroom stop, brushed my teeth, tucked my tangled hair behind my ears, and rejoined them in the hall.

  Chris held my hand as we walked down the street past a deserted Rodman’s Diner. When we arrived at the family house, we found both the front door and the apartment door upstairs wide open. Tables and chairs had been knocked over, broken glass, tuna cans, and a bag of spaghetti were scattered on the kitchen floor.

  The next few hours I helped Chris, Ben, and Ivy sweep, wash floors and countertops, make beds, and refold the clothing that had been pulled from closets and dresser drawers.

  Later, we hung out in the kitchen while Ivy cooked brown rice and stir-fried vegetables in a wok. As she passed out ceramic bowls of food, the sound of fists pounding on the door below resonated in the room.

  Ben eyeballed Chris and clenched his fists. Ivy swallowed hard, and then we heard a muffled voice through the door. “It’s me, Doc.”

  Chris unlatched the deadbolt and chain. “Hey, man, I almost shit my pants. Sit down.” He handed him a can of Pabst Blue Ribbon.

  Doc drank the whole beer in one long gulp, and belched. “I spoke to Drake. The pigs let him go. Thank God, he’d already left the duffel bags with you.”

  Ivy looked up from the stove. “Well, that’s a relief.”

  “Did the motherfuckers show up here?”

  Ben laughed. “You should have seen the place an hour ago. But they didn’t find a thing.”

  Doc wiped the sweat from his forehead. “Man, we sure can’t afford another bust.”

  Ivy hugged Doc, then Chris joined in, and so did Ben, forming a circle in the middle of the kitchen. Before I knew it, Chris drew me in, and I stood huddled together with them.

  “Peace, love, and good karma,” Ben chanted.

  “Right on,” I repeated along with the rest of them.

  Chris squeezed my hand. For the first time in my life I felt like I really belonged.

  Doc winked. “Welcome to the family, sweet Laila.”

  Ivy pursed her lips.
“Yes, we now have a little princess from Long Guyland in our midst. Hope she can keep her mouth shut.”

  “Give her a break,” Ben said. “She’s cool, and—”

  “And what?” Doc said.

  “The duffel bags are under her bed in Bodine Hall.”

  Doc sighed. “Far out.”

  Chris grabbed my hand. “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s go upstairs and finish what we started last night.”

  I followed Chris up the dark stairway to his attic bedroom. He lit a candle. Black curtains covered the one window in the room. We started to make out on the saggy bed. The stubble on his chin scratched my face as he searched my mouth with his tongue. We rolled around in the bed. The worn top sheet ripped and the bedsprings creaked.

  Chris squeezed my butt and slid his hand down my thigh. “You are one sweet chick.”

  Was this a good time to tell him about my big V status? “Chris, do you remember—?”

  He put his finger on my lips. “Shush.” He started those tricky tongue moves on my neck.

  “Oh, geez, that feels sooo good.” I was more than ready. But once again we were interrupted.

  “Chris, you motha, get your white ass down here,” shouted Doc from downstairs. “Drake just got here with some far out sheet.”

  Chris slid my sweater over my head.

  “Come down, man,” yelled the familiar voice of Ben.

  Chris searched my eyes. “Fuck them.” He kissed me and fumbled with the hooks of my bra.

  Strange new sensations ripped through my body. Sexy, tingly, wet. I sighed, noticing a bulge in his Levis. Why had I always been so scared when I’d come this close before? All my dates in high school. Summer camp when I ran away from Tommy Abrams. Tonight, I felt ready, confident, hungry for Chris’s touch.

  But the voice bellowed from the stairway. “Christopher, I hear you up there. I promise this shit Drake done brought gonna make you groove all the better, man.”

  Chris shouted, “Go away, Doc, I don’t give a flying fuck.”

  Then the booming sound of people charging up the stairs.

  I grabbed my sweater from the floor and slipped it back on. It appeared that Chris and I would never get together.

  Doc opened the door. “Knock, knock.” He looked at me appreciatively. My wavy hair ran wild down my shoulders and back. “No wonder Chris don’t wanna come downstairs.”

  Ben, Ivy, and their neighbor Drake burst in. They plunked down on the bed and the floor, filling the tiny attic with bodies, arms, legs, and constant chatter as they passed around a bottle of Sangria.

  Ben lit a joint and handed it to me. I pretended to inhale and feigned a cough. Just the vapor made me high.

  Drake pulled out squares of paper from his front shirt pocket. “Got me a ten-pack of Windowpane here. This shit is as pure as ivory snow.” He passed each of us a square blotted with pink dye. Everyone but I placed the paper on their tongues.

  Doc began counting. “Six of us, ten of these. Who wants another one?”

  Chris and Ivy held out their hands.

  I still clutched the one square in my palm. Chris snatched it from me and stuck it in my mouth. “Let it sit on your tongue. You won’t believe your orgasm on this shit.”

  Ivy snickered. “That’s horseshit. You guys just say that so you can get laid.”

  Too late now. It tasted slightly bitter on my tongue and then got caught in my throat. I stood, found the bottle of Sangria on the table, and took a slug.

  I felt Doc’s eyes on me as I padded across the room. Then he whacked Chris’s back. “You lucky man. She’s got an ass like a black chick.”

  Ben and Drake hooted and slapped each other’s hands in a high-five.

  Were they making fun of me?

  Doc put his arm around Chris’s shoulders. “Take good care of this chick, man. She’s a keeper.”

  I began having second thoughts about tripping. What if I got sick or crazy, or both? I flashed on Walter Cronkite talking about Art Linkletter’s kid jumping out a second story window after taking mescaline.

  Ivy put on the Jefferson Airplane’s “White Rabbit” on the small stereo Chris had propped on wood crates. One pill makes you larger . . .

  She and Chris began to dance. Chris did this fake guitar move and Ivy shimmied her big breasts. Her Indian-print shirt slid down so low her pert nipples popped in and out of view.

  Everyone in the room was older and hipper than me. From what I could gather, I was the only one under twenty-one. They’d all been friends for years and had lived in Berkeley together. I was just a dumb girl from Long Island. Did I really belong here? If they knew of my virgin status, they’d have a field day. Ivy would pee her pants laughing.

  Ben sat down next to me. “You get off yet?”

  I didn’t feel anything. “Maybe I got a dud.”

  He grinned and slipped his hand on my knee. Friendly-like, not coming on or anything. “Be paaaaaaaaaaashient.”

  Suddenly everyone sounded like a 45rpm record played at 33rpm speed. My limbs felt heavy and my face burned like a brush fire. The world was pixilated. When I closed my eyes, patterns materialized on my eyelids, faintly colored, moving quickly. A fly buzzed and landed on my neck. I slapped it. Nothing there. I closed my eyes and saw blue-grid patterns spinning and stretching. Inside each square of blue were these red spheres with gold electric currents.

  Chris sat on the other side of me. “How uuuuuuuuuu feeling, baaaaaaaaaaaaaby?”

  “I’m good, yeah, fine. I can see electricity.”

  “That’s ’cause Ben Franklin is sitting next to you. Ben’s the real deal.”

  My hearing tripped back to normal speed again.

  Ben squeezed my arm. “They say you can time travel or see God.”

  “I see you. Are you God?”

  “I’m just Jesus. I used to be Ben Franklin.”

  Chris put his arm around me. “Don’t let him sweet-talk you, baby. He always tries to steal my girlfriends.”

  “Not true, man,” Ben protested. “You need to forget all those bourgeois values. Jealousy, greed, materialism.”

  “I’m trying.” Chris said.

  Ben looked at me. “Forget everything you learned growing up in Long Island, Laila.”

  Doc stood up. “Come outside and see the key to the universe with me.”

  We all marched down the stairs and out to the street. The houses looked shabby and dilapidated. None of us wore coats. It was cold, maybe thirty degrees, but I felt warm, toasty. Yeah, like French toast grilled in a pan. What time was it? Maybe one or two in the morning, but it could have been closer to ten or eleven p.m. Time slipped away.

  Ben showed up with wool army blankets and wrapped them around us. We stood clustered together as one, staring at the black cosmos. Stars shot a rainbow of colors upon us. Lemons, oranges, peaches, and strawberries. Dandelion snowflakes fell in lacy patterns. They brushed my eyelashes and melted in my mouth.

  Drake broke away and held out his hands. “Taste the colors, man. Can you see how the planets work?”

  Ivy took his hand. “Timothy Leary says that LSD is a truth serum. It promotes unity in the universe.”

  Drake kissed her neck. “I just wanna get laid.”

  A Puerto Rican guy waved from across the street. He appeared three sheets to the wind, as he tottered on his way.

  A sense of belonging consumed me. These people are my family. I love them all, even Ivy. She loves me too, right? “Do you love me, Ivy?”

  But Ivy was gone. She and Drake had split.

  The cold wind began to chafe my face. We all staggered back inside. Ben sat on the couch and strummed his guitar. He sounded like Neil Young. My trippy state took me back to Long Island and my parents. “Does anyone have a pencil?”

  No one answered. Chris and Doc sat playing cards.

  I scrambled into the kitchen and tore a piece off a paper bag. Searching through the drawers I found a stubby pencil. Seconds, minutes, or hours later I scribbled a poem at the kitchen tab
le. Time ticked along in strange intervals.

  The Suburban Blues

  by Laila Levin

  Please pass the corn beef hash and don’t chew your food so fast

  I mean the last time you were home

  We might not have known.

  Once you were the apple of Daddy’s eye

  And now he just sighs when anyone mentions your intentions.

  You’ll be lucky if you see twenty-one, with all your fun

  According to Life Magazine

  Quite Obscene.

  Call collect, the least we expect

  Make sure you eat every day

  And stay away from dirty business, okay?

  The words flowed out as fast as I could write them as I sat alone in the kitchen. Now, I yearned for company and meandered back to the living room in search of Chris. Darkness and silence greeted me. Where was everyone? Through the window a pale sun rose on the pink horizon with the promise of a new day and the meaning of life. My God, it was right upstairs in the attic. Time for me to find out.

  Two at a time, I rushed up the steps. I was turning eighteen and ready to become a woman with Chris my love, the father of my future children. No longer fearful, I bade farewell to my girlhood. When I reached the attic, I stumbled around in the total darkness that engulfed me. Chris had always lit candles when I’d been there before. His breathing guided me to the bed where I slipped off my jeans and sweater and folded them tidily on the floor. I pulled up the covers and snuggled next to him.

  His body felt warm. Two naked bodies molded into one.

  The ceiling opened up and snowflakes fell from the sky, wetting the blankets. Mind tricks? A leak in the roof? He rolled over and kissed me. His breath smelled different. His chest hair was damp against my breasts. He kissed my neck, then his lips made a zigzag path down my body.

  “Make love to me,” I said, but I didn’t think he heard me.

  Time kept skipping around and I remember only parts of what happened. The pressure of him enter inside me. Feeling wet. It didn’t hurt like Denise had said.

  He thrust up and down, up and down. My body joined in the rhythm.

  Oh my God, it did feel good. It felt great. I wanted to see him, to gaze in his eyes.