Counting backwards, still…
December 31
It was getting close to midnight and 1994 was seconds away. Not everyone in the bar had a glass of champagne yet, so my job was not yet complete. Laughter, drunken celebration, anticipation all around me, but I had to get those drinks out, so excuse me please. Everyone around me celebrates, their hopes and aspirations, all rising up to meet 1994, while I ran behind, or around them, changing their ashtrays, cleaning their messes, pulling their bottles and glasses.
What would 1994 hold?
December 27
We were really here. We were really stuck here, _____ and I. The overcast weather and humidity mirrored our temperaments. Max is gone. Our phone is still out.
Both _____ and I, though, are making money. Key West is jam packed full of people, therefore, so are the bars. And during this week, we worked hard. People are tipping generously. Hopefully we can pay the over $600 dollar phone bill soon.
_____ is homesick. Physically she feels better than she did yesterday. There’s nothing I can say to make things better for her. I feel very guilty for her situation. I feel responsible for her missing her family over the holidays and corresponding reaction and actions.
December 26
_____ still hasn’t recovered from Christmas Eve. Something isn’t quite right with her mind. She pointed a knife at me and asked me if I was scared of her. When I said I wasn’t, she said, “You should be. You should be.”
She hasn’t eaten today and only a few bites of chicken yesterday. Her mouth contorts with disgust when she looks at me. Her blue eyes radiate with hate. I don’t know this person. I am scared of her. Not for myself, really, but for what she might do to others, or her real self locked behind that countenance somewhere. She really got hammered two days ago.
I found out today what happened. The Copa hosted a “Turnabout” for Christmas Eve. A Turnabout is a lip sync performance by the staff, while bartenders from other bars work for them. Proceeds usually go to charity. The men dress up as women, and the women dress up as men. Hence, the name “Turnabout.”
_____ was dressed up as Kenny Rogers and was paired with a bartender named Ramon, who was dressed as Dolly Parton for their duet of “Islands in the Stream.” A couple of _____’s friends came in shortly before her performance and made her do a bunch of coke. _____ can’t say no. She doesn’t want to offend anyone; even if said offended might be a gaggle of cokeheads.
_____ does several rails with these girls, drinks some more, then proceeds to attack Ramon onstage. She tried to pop his breasts, then hugged and humped him, then screamed at him, storming offstage in the middle of the song. Then she passed out. Some bartenders brought her home. One of them told me what had happened. _____ doesn’t remember anything after arriving for work.
There are people everywhere. They crowd the streets, not paying attention, talking loud. There’s nowhere to go; no place for quiet. I leave the apartment and walk around for awhile, hoping _____ will be all right for an hour or so without hurting herself. I don’t know what to do.
December 25
Christmas at the beach!!
_____’s breathing was less labored than before. It was becoming clear she wouldn’t overdose on this holiday. Since it was around two p.m. Central Standard, and since our phone had not re-connected itself like I had asked God and Santa for my one Christmas-time miracle, I would have to go somewhere to find a pay phone. Hopefully one in a semi-private location, because the wholeness of my aloneness was biting down hard as I decided on and pedaled to a pay phone at Fort Taylor beach.
It was cool, drizzling, overcast, windy, and quiet. No one else was in the immediate area. Good. I didn’t want anyone to see me. I looked out onto the water. The darkness of the clouds extended to a point beyond visibility, beyond the horizon.
It was a sad day all over. I was fully aware of the fact that I was gonna be in bad circumstance for awhile. And then…I realized that I realized this! A Christmastime epiphany! Mental thunderclap, explosions, and the strength to fake some holiday cheer for my family’s sake because after all, I was calling from the beach and everything was fabulous, excellent, and why wouldn’t it be?
The sky darkened and the wind picked up. The drizzle intensified. It was cold and snowy in Missouri where the whole family was gathered. My displacement weighed heavy in Mom’s voice. Her baby was missing; somewhere else, away. She could hear, but not see or touch me. Her tone was sad, hollow.
It rained and I cried long after hanging up, staring at the trees bending leftward, and at the crashing and rippling waves, the only visible movement to the end of the horizon.
December 24
The three of us had our Christmas Eve meal at Subs of Miami. We were equally miserable. Howard bitched the entire meal about how lonely he was and how he hated and alternately missed New York, along with other gripes I tried not to pay attention to, as I didn’t want to feel any worse than I already did. ____ and I ate more or less in silence.
It was our first Christmas here. No family, our roommates from Missouri freshly departed, very few friends, and almost no trustworthy ones. Well, this is as bad as it gets, right? Just then, a colossal bunny-hop/conga line came dancing through the Subs of Miami, started outside by a stupid-ass guitar player from the bar next door who was too peppy not to be a detriment to everyone. We stared at each other in silence as the progression of drunken straight hopper hopped and extended their legs by us, keeping up with the person just in front of them, laughing, 30 or 40 of them, past our sullen table, through Subs of Miami, in Key West, on Christmas Eve.
We left Howard and went home to shower and change. _____ was in the shower and I was on the deck smoking pot, when gunshots rang out. They sounded close. I went to the bathroom and told _____ what had happened. We learned later that it was a Conch man that was killed. Just out of the Navy, a new father, knew all the locals, loved by everyone, starting a new life, killed on Christmas Eve 1993. An innocent bystander between two people with guns and drugs. We knew none of this information then, only that those shots weren’t good. Those shots were a violent, staccato portent to the course of the rest of the evening.
There’s something unsettling or unholy about being slammed shitless at work on Christmas Eve night into Christmas morning. We stayed busy until 2 a.m., and then, nothing. Everyone had gone to the Copa, so, after closing and cleaning, Howard and I went there, too. We couldn’t find _____. We danced for awhile, but I wasn’t really into it, so I left to go home.
From a distance, I saw Max get into a cab. He didn’t say goodbye. I yell to him and he flinches, pretending not to hear me. I guess he thought it would be easier this way. He left on Christmas Day. I haven’t seen him since.
As I opened the door to our apartment, I saw _____’s naked body sprawled out on our bed. She was on her back, outlined in sweat, her breathing heavy and labored, unconscious. Panicked, I quickly jumped on the bed and rolled her onto her side. I had no idea what she’d taken to end up in her current state.
She’s barely breathing. I woke her once. She mumbled something incoherent at me, and then slipped back into the depths. So I lay there, with all the lights of the apartment on, holding her on her side so she won’t choke on her own vomit, just in case she should vomit.
I can hear a party going on next door, as our bedroom adjoins the other unit. The cadences of laughter and speech and several conversations at once were in contrast to the buzz of silence on our side and the occasional noise _____ made, trying to breathe. I made a conscious decision to stay with her and ride this one out, rather than call the paramedics. Because phone service was cut yesterday, I’d have to leave and go use the pay phone.
Anything could happen while I was gone. I suppose if she got worse, I could ask the neighbors to call for me. So I stayed there, listening to the partygoers next door, thinking about how our very different circumstances were separated by this wall that I could hear their laughter emanate from. I held _____ still, whispering for her to relax, hoping she never stopped breathing.
About 5 a.m., as the party next door is in high gear, someone knocks on our door. _____ is somewhat stable in her labored breathing, so I got up and answered the door. In sweeps this drag queen in a beautiful red satin dress, bouffant hair, holding a bottle of champagne, spreading Yuletide cheer. “Merry Christmas darling.” She says in a throaty whisper, smiling.
“The party’s next door.”
“Oh…” She says, her smile on pause, then, “I’m sorry—excuse me.”
“Can I keep the champagne?” I ask, attempting a smile.
“No.” She says, not smiling, grabbing the bottle, sweeping back out of the apartment. And then she was next door, where the noise level went up for a moment the moment she walked in.
I went back into our bedroom. I’m very tired, but I stay awake until after 6, to make sure she still breathes. Christmas morning arrives as I fall asleep from the day before.
December 23
Our phone has been cut off. We owe over $600 to the Phone Company. $210 of the bill is ours. Our former roommates called yesterday from Miami to get their half of the apartment deposit back. But since the rest of the bill is theirs, we told them to fuck off, on speakerphone no less. Now, at least we won’t hear from them again. We can’t. We ain’t got no phone.
The rash around my waist has spread to behind my underarms. _____ has it too, as well
as people who’ve slept in our bed. I’m freaked out because I still don’t know what it is.
December 21
Our two other roommates left today for Miami. Their departure comes three days after telling us they wouldn’t leave for several more months and giving us proper notice. _____ is completely freaked out by this turn of events. I’ll never forgive either one of them for this. They have left us alone at a critical time.
December 18
Went to a birthday party for the man with whom Max is staying. There were less than 10 people left when we arrived just before 5 a.m.. They’d all been doing coke since about 1 p.m. that previous afternoon and were all pretty “geeked out.” When one “geeks,” that person has done so much coke that they move in spasms. They jerk their head to talk with you, or their hands jerk to light a cigarette. They move like someone afflicted with Cerebral Palsy. Glamorous. Max and I had smoked a joint, so I couldn’t relate to this scene at all. They all jabbered at each other in a little circle, except for the birthday boy, who sat away a little distance, observing. He was a lawyer in town.
I knew of him before I knew Max, as he had come into the bar before. Some acquaintances of mine referred to him as “The Devil.” He had an almost soundless gait, floating almost, and a peculiar, serene expression pasted to his countenance at all times, in all circumstances. He would simply “appear” places, not producing any resistance or sound, seemingly an inch above ground, always surrounded by some motherfuckers of ill repute, smiling that weird little half-smile, taking it all in. Creepy.
And there he was, smiling that smile, surrounded by these geeked out cokeheads, still presiding in the moment, even close to sunrise. He watched Max and I talk with each other, focusing on us, cutting through the extraneous noises. He would smile and nod at us occasionally. Then he’d re-narrow his eye just a bit, still listening.
December 17
At the beach
I see him in the water
Through my hazy, stoned perception
Moving slower,
Coming closer,
Head down as he rises,
Out of the water,
Onto the sand,
Smiling
As he walks.
Swinging his arms
With fluid, flirty
Motion,
His mouth upturned in almost a perfect curve.
His teeth shine.
His square cut trunks cling to his thighs.
His curly brown hair form ringlets
From water’s saturation.
He turns away, just for a moment,
Then turns back,
Another smile forming,
In motion again,
As he bends down to kiss me,
Gently,
On the beach, by the water.
As bad as the rest of my life is now,
This man is equally good.
I am so thankful for my friend Max.
I feel so much better around him,
And for the knowledge
That people like him, do indeed, exist.
He’s sexy and intelligent.
He has a good heart.
We make each other laugh so much!
Sometimes it takes awhile longer than others, but
When I am with him, I do forget everything else.
I can relax.
I like him.
I love him.
I could fall in love with him.
So why does he have to leave?
He stands before me, the sun behind his head, his aura aglow, smiling.
December 15
Both ____ and I have terrible rashes extending from armpit to ankle. The rash is painful, and is worst around my belt line, where the sores break easily and ooze constantly. Other people have slept in our bed and are now getting sores on their body too. What the fuck is this? We can’t afford a visit to the doctor. ____ and I are both freaked out, as our rashes only get worse.
December 14
He was frolicking in the water at Fort Taylor beach, flopping around, standing up, a sexy look or pose, then more jumping. And laughing. And smiling the smile of a mischievous child aware that you’re aware what he’s doing is wrong and catching him in mid-act, but what the hell, he’s adorable…
I was shocked when he began to roll a joint right there on the beach. He told me to relax; a lot. “Everything will be alright.” “Relax” was the word. And when he said it to me, I would. Or at least I would try. We giggled and toked, sunning and kissing, smiling big, our secret behavior barely secret.
I could always eventually relax with Max. His energy had a wonderful, calming effect on me. So very soothing. Time spent with him seemed slower, molasses smiles, activities stretching out over the course of an afternoon seemed so much longer. He was a living example of Zeitgeist.
After almost three months of unwanted come-ons and general bullshit behavior by tourists and other locals, I decided to gain 20 pounds and grow a beard so “they” would leave me alone. Needless to say, my roommates thought I was insane. “You’re crazy.” “Are you insane? – What is wrong with you?” was their response.
So I didn’t gain the weight, but I did grow a beard. And I didn’t cut my hair. There, that should do it. And it worked. My beard was not very attractive, and my hair was kind of weird and unkempt, and people stopped noticing me, which was what I wanted.
I had been fired from my job at the clothing store earlier that day, and was drowning my sorrows at the Copa, at the bar by the dance floor manned by a roommate. I was watching the crowd while drinking, hoping the dancers would cheer me up. One guy seemed to be dancing with everyone around him. He was cute and entertaining as he bopped around, smiling and grooving, moving person to person, enjoying himself as much as the others enjoyed being around him. When he would stop for a break, he would stand a few feet away, nodding and smiling at me. Then he was back on the dance floor, grooving once again. I began to realize that I really enjoyed watching him.
Awhile later, he came back again, smiled and nodded again, then came over. He began to talk and question, eliciting my responses, comforting tones re-enforced with wide open eyes, sincere, positive, warm, in unison with his voice. He glowed. My response to him was immediate, but I still remained cautious.
My inhibition didn’t last long, though, as we’ve seen each other every day since. He has come along at just the right time.
December 12
Scott has an outstanding warrant from another state.
I have helped Scott rent a car with my credit card.
Now Scott has disappeared, and his uncle calls me regularly, knowing I know something.
But I didn’t, I swear.
What went down never occurred to me.
His uncle tells me I could be arrested for aiding and abetting a fugitive.
Holy shit I’m naive.
Why did I even get involved?
I have to lay down now.
December 10
I started at the One Saloon last night. It’s dark and they are renovating, so everything is coated with sawdust. The bar by the dance floor is under plastic. They are still places to stand, though. The manager says it’s all right for people to stand back there. “Just don’t let them get too crazy.” I bar back, so I stock and fill and empty. Last night wasn’t too busy, but the manager says that will change.
December 9
They all come home from the Copa smashed and screaming at each other, every night. Especially _____, but the boys are right there, too. Then I get to be in the middle. Fun!
The only reason I mention this is because it hasn’t happened in two mornings. They’ve been in Miami for the second time in less than a month. It’s obvious they want to move, and if _____ and I could afford it, that would be great. _____ and I get along very well together, and we would be perfectly happy without them around. But the rent between two of us is too much.
They’ve said, though, that they won’t move for awhile and I have to believe them. _____ and I hung out on the deck, smoked pot, listened to the roosters crowing in Bahama Village, and laughed amongst ourselves.
December 5
Got fired today, for the first time ever, from the clothing store. Scott and I told our bosses the other two employees were ripping them off. But the other two employees were also sleeping with our bosses, so they won. I’ve never been fired before, much less over trying to do the right thing. I’m stunned.
December 1
_____ got drunk last night and told this beautiful guy how obsessed I was over him, on the dance floor, at the Copa. I don’t think he feels remotely the same way. I don’t want to look at or be near him. That will be difficult, though, as he works two stores down from where I work. Beautiful.
December 31
The crowd counts down the final seconds (“Four! Three! Two! One!”), then the collective New Year’s celebration reaches climax for a minute or so. The kissing and yelling and drinking and spilling of alcohol and groping of the revelers is a just reward for making it through another year. The confetti, smoke, and music in the air, the temperature in the 60’s at midnight on this new January morning; it’s all un-natural to me. I view the festivities with detachment. They celebrate while I endure.
I watch the crowd for some sense of happiness or fulfillment or encouragement via osmosis. But the scene leaves me flat. I return to work with a growing dread of the offerings offered by this new year 1994, a week from my 28th birthday, unaware of just how difficult the experiences of the coming year would actually be. “Tommy’s out of Bud! Go change the keg!” The manager screams at me over the crowd.
I head to the cooler, humming a tune to block out the ill feeling welling up inside of me. I think to myself, “There should be snow on the ground.” I don’t even like snow. “Without it, everything is wrong.” A few feet away from me, a man is laughing.
Welcome to 1994, Lance. Try to be brave.
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