Helen remembers what made her cry
When she had drunk some water, Helen felt much better. Her mouth wasn't so dry and her headache lessened. She heard Jessica and Roxy start talking to each other about their respective internships they were doing that quarter. Jessica was counseling children in Bakersville who had been displaced by the Yaçoan quake the previous October, while Roxy was a teacher's aid at an elementary school.
“It's been six months since the quake,” Jessica was saying. “And they're still living in tents.”
“That's fucked,” Roxy said.
Yes, it was fucked. Helen tried to make herself realize how lucky she was, to have a roof over her head instead of living in a make-shift tent city, but failed. To all of the other emotions swirling inside or her she added revulsion at her own selfishness.
How had she ended up in this state? That night had started out well enough. Despite her depression, Helen was eager to reconnect with her friends. She had been neglecting them, she knew, and she missed their company, and advice. The excuse for getting together had been to study and then watch Thirtysomething, but before and after there had been much opportunity for gossip and chit-chat. To Helen’s relief, Roxy and Jessica were sensitive enough to not interrogate her about the break-up-Roxy’s sole comment had been “you seem to be doing pretty well, all things considered”.
It had been wonderful to sit, drink the Bloody Marys Roxy made, and listen to gossip about what was going on in Dead Oak-Tina and Stravinsky, partying with Peter and the two Jakes; but every time Helen relaxed, a voice inside her reminded her of what had happened, that Todd had rejected her and that, superficial circumstances aside, everything was not okay and she was, ultimately, fucked. Drinking more Bloody Marys had seemed to be a good way to quiet that voice, but it hadn’t worked-instead, the voice seemed to be getting louder and more insistent, the pang of loss more sharp, the inner voice of criticism louder than the voices of her two friends.
Helen had started drinking faster and more frequently, hoping that if she drank enough, she would pass beyond care, but that hadn't happened-instead, she was just thinking about him more, and it was getting harder and harder to hold back the raging storm of grief pouring out of the black hole within her-the fear that anything good in her life could be taken away at any time.
As Helen was starting on her fourth Bloody Mary, Jessica had decided some music would help cheer Helen up. Unfortunately, the tape she had selected was the Steely Dan greatest hits tape they had made at the end of the previous summer.
Unfortunately, the music of Steely Dan was the one artist that could have reminded Helen of the two serious boyfriends in her life, and consequently the absence of them both and the improbability that she would ever fall in love again and that she was destined to die alone.
Her first serious boyfriend, David Stone, had been a musician, and Steely Dan had been just about his favorite band in the world. Todd was no musician, and in Helen's humble opinion had very questionable tastes in music that tended towards the pretentious, but there was one particular Steely Dan song that was inextricably linked with their relationship, with the one single moment when their hearts and minds had been in accord, when their commitment to each other had been complete and total. She should have vetoed the selection, but somehow she didn't want to let Jessica and Roxy know how much the music affected her, that her emotions were not under her control, but subject to the whim of fate.
Relentlessly the tape had marched on as she gulped her Bloody Mary, from Hey Nineteen to Do It Again, Peg and then Rikki Don't Lose That Number. She should have turned the tape off, put in something else, but she didn't. She just listened to the songs, feeling the memories that erupted in her brain, helplessly.
Jessica and Roxy had been chattering on and on, their conversation about classes and internships seeming more and more at odds with the way the world truly was, which was a cold unfeeling place where everyone was ultimately alone.
Finally, when that song, their song, had come on, the floodgates opened, all self-control was lost. Helen remembered their union, the feeling of closeness, her victory over masculine reserve and fear of commitment, when they had held each other during the song, stroking each other's hair, and at the ultimate moment, Todd had confessed he loved her and only her, that his life was better with her in it.
On X the guitar solo had seemed to last forever, circling around and around, into itself, cycling over and over into itself-the perfect sound for the perfect moment. Now, though, the melancholy lyrics seemed to say more to her than the sound. Your ever-lastin' summer is fadin' fast.
The song reminded her of summer, too-in Alta Lara when she worked part-time and spent the rest hanging out, and the year before with Tim, Jessica and Roxy. How many more summers like that? Time was passing, and there was going to be more to worry about in the future, not less-graduation, career, marriage, where to live, supporting herself.
Even before she realized, tears were pouring out of her eyes, drenching her cheeks, and her breaths became audibly ragged. Jessica stopped in mid-sentence and looked at her, then Helen had collapsed against her, her chest quaking with sobs. Trying to apologize between sobs and cries of anguish, Jessica and Roxy endlessly repeating words of comfort. It had been quite the scene; just about the biggest spectacle in Santa Zita history; with Helen as the star attraction.
Now that the storm had passed, Helen contemplated what was going to come next. But what was she going to do? What could she do? Anything? Helen felt her eyes sting, as if her eyes were trying to water up again but the tear ducts were dry. She clamped her eyes shut, placed her hands on the side of the sink and inhaled again, trying to fill her lungs without her breath catching in her throat. The glass she was refilling with water overflowed. Helen jammed the tap off. It leaked. No matter how hard she pushed it, a trickle of water seeped out and plopped into the mottled metallic sink. Helen lifted the glass, drank several swallows, and refilled it again. She turned around and went back to the living room.
“It's been six months since the quake,” Jessica was saying. “And they're still living in tents.”
“That's fucked,” Roxy said.
Yes, it was fucked. Helen tried to make herself realize how lucky she was, to have a roof over her head instead of living in a make-shift tent city, but failed. To all of the other emotions swirling inside or her she added revulsion at her own selfishness.
How had she ended up in this state? That night had started out well enough. Despite her depression, Helen was eager to reconnect with her friends. She had been neglecting them, she knew, and she missed their company, and advice. The excuse for getting together had been to study and then watch Thirtysomething, but before and after there had been much opportunity for gossip and chit-chat. To Helen’s relief, Roxy and Jessica were sensitive enough to not interrogate her about the break-up-Roxy’s sole comment had been “you seem to be doing pretty well, all things considered”.
It had been wonderful to sit, drink the Bloody Marys Roxy made, and listen to gossip about what was going on in Dead Oak-Tina and Stravinsky, partying with Peter and the two Jakes; but every time Helen relaxed, a voice inside her reminded her of what had happened, that Todd had rejected her and that, superficial circumstances aside, everything was not okay and she was, ultimately, fucked. Drinking more Bloody Marys had seemed to be a good way to quiet that voice, but it hadn’t worked-instead, the voice seemed to be getting louder and more insistent, the pang of loss more sharp, the inner voice of criticism louder than the voices of her two friends.
Helen had started drinking faster and more frequently, hoping that if she drank enough, she would pass beyond care, but that hadn't happened-instead, she was just thinking about him more, and it was getting harder and harder to hold back the raging storm of grief pouring out of the black hole within her-the fear that anything good in her life could be taken away at any time.
As Helen was starting on her fourth Bloody Mary, Jessica had decided some music would help cheer Helen up. Unfortunately, the tape she had selected was the Steely Dan greatest hits tape they had made at the end of the previous summer.
Unfortunately, the music of Steely Dan was the one artist that could have reminded Helen of the two serious boyfriends in her life, and consequently the absence of them both and the improbability that she would ever fall in love again and that she was destined to die alone.
Her first serious boyfriend, David Stone, had been a musician, and Steely Dan had been just about his favorite band in the world. Todd was no musician, and in Helen's humble opinion had very questionable tastes in music that tended towards the pretentious, but there was one particular Steely Dan song that was inextricably linked with their relationship, with the one single moment when their hearts and minds had been in accord, when their commitment to each other had been complete and total. She should have vetoed the selection, but somehow she didn't want to let Jessica and Roxy know how much the music affected her, that her emotions were not under her control, but subject to the whim of fate.
Relentlessly the tape had marched on as she gulped her Bloody Mary, from Hey Nineteen to Do It Again, Peg and then Rikki Don't Lose That Number. She should have turned the tape off, put in something else, but she didn't. She just listened to the songs, feeling the memories that erupted in her brain, helplessly.
Jessica and Roxy had been chattering on and on, their conversation about classes and internships seeming more and more at odds with the way the world truly was, which was a cold unfeeling place where everyone was ultimately alone.
Finally, when that song, their song, had come on, the floodgates opened, all self-control was lost. Helen remembered their union, the feeling of closeness, her victory over masculine reserve and fear of commitment, when they had held each other during the song, stroking each other's hair, and at the ultimate moment, Todd had confessed he loved her and only her, that his life was better with her in it.
On X the guitar solo had seemed to last forever, circling around and around, into itself, cycling over and over into itself-the perfect sound for the perfect moment. Now, though, the melancholy lyrics seemed to say more to her than the sound. Your ever-lastin' summer is fadin' fast.
The song reminded her of summer, too-in Alta Lara when she worked part-time and spent the rest hanging out, and the year before with Tim, Jessica and Roxy. How many more summers like that? Time was passing, and there was going to be more to worry about in the future, not less-graduation, career, marriage, where to live, supporting herself.
Even before she realized, tears were pouring out of her eyes, drenching her cheeks, and her breaths became audibly ragged. Jessica stopped in mid-sentence and looked at her, then Helen had collapsed against her, her chest quaking with sobs. Trying to apologize between sobs and cries of anguish, Jessica and Roxy endlessly repeating words of comfort. It had been quite the scene; just about the biggest spectacle in Santa Zita history; with Helen as the star attraction.
Now that the storm had passed, Helen contemplated what was going to come next. But what was she going to do? What could she do? Anything? Helen felt her eyes sting, as if her eyes were trying to water up again but the tear ducts were dry. She clamped her eyes shut, placed her hands on the side of the sink and inhaled again, trying to fill her lungs without her breath catching in her throat. The glass she was refilling with water overflowed. Helen jammed the tap off. It leaked. No matter how hard she pushed it, a trickle of water seeped out and plopped into the mottled metallic sink. Helen lifted the glass, drank several swallows, and refilled it again. She turned around and went back to the living room.
Works
Recent Writing
- 1989 A Novel: Tim and April walk to the liquor store
- Volume III: Helen meets Roxy for coffee at the Fremont College coffee shop
- Volume III: Tim walks back from Contemporary American Fiction
- Volume III: Helen conducts section, can’t prevent Michael from being dissed
- Volume III: Helen conducts section (HSZ version)