Joan's Room Chapters 18 And 19 free porn video

Chapter 18 Edge of Seventeen Friday morning I awoke in a fog. I ate some cereal, let the dog out, and finished up with a cup of coffee. It was time to get to work. I really didn't feel like doing anything that morning. Still, I was far too responsible to simply let the jobs slide. Besides, I knew that I'd snap out of it sooner or later. With my sandwich tucked safely inside my shoulder bag, I was off. I was done at the Barnes' home almost before I began. At least, it felt that way. Mrs. Barnes seemed beyond happy with my work. She asked me for one of my business cards. She let it slip that she'd heard some unflattering rumors about me. I thanked her for her kind words and told her I'd get her some business cards just as soon as I got them back from the printer. Truth be told, I hadn't even considered business cards till she mentioned them. Three more painting jobs and I'd have (almost) all the money I needed for my new baby. I found myself wondering whether there were any "strings attached" to the instrument (ha ha). Why had he agreed to sell it to me so cheaply? I put such thoughts aside, deciding it didn't matter what his rationale was for parting with this precious instrument. I was only a few blocks from the boardwalk so I pedaled over and ate my lunch while sitting on a bench and staring out to sea. I arrived at the Wilpons' just before one o'clock. The maid let me in when I explained why I was there. Her "English" was very limited. I waited in the foyer for one of the owners to appear. Mr. Wilpon was a big man. He eyed me suspiciously when I explained to him that I was Joan Johnson, the painter. I could almost hear his thoughts: "But you're a girl..." I assured him that I was quite experienced and would provide him with references if need be. Sometimes a bit of bluster gets the job done. He showed me the family room, pointed me in the direction of all the equipment I'd be needing and eyed me doubtfully as I began to set the scene. After he saw how carefully I handled their belongings and the extra mile I went in covering everything up, he finally left me alone to do my work. Not before shaking his head vehemently from side to side though. I almost felt like laughing, but I just wanted to get the job finished and go home. A little over two hours later I was in clean-up mode. I was getting faster at this. Upon inspecting the job when I was finished, Mr. Wilpon handed me eighty dollars. I tried to hand a twenty back to him, but he wouldn't take it. I thanked him profusely and made my way home: my first tip! Aunt Melissa was puttering around the kitchen when I came in the front door. She had some kind of roast cooking in the oven. If nothing else, I was going to miss her cooking when she was gone. I went out in the back yard and played with Shandy till she'd had enough. It was then that I did what I'd really wanted to from the beginning. I ran into the sewing room and retrieved my new Martin. God, I just loved this guitar. Practicing on it was a joy, not a chore. An hour later I decided it was time to get some real chores done. I figured I'd spend the evening listening to Fleetwood Mac and checking out the internet to see if I couldn't find the chords for some of the songs Fred had chosen. Generally, I could figure them out just by listening to them, but not always. I went through my mental checklist of tasks to be completed and found that the only job left undone was laundry. I filled up the baskets and carried everything down to the basement. When I considered some of the homes that I'd been in, and the amount of "stuff" that Fred had, I began to realize just how modest my own situation was. For a very brief moment my mind flashed to New Jersey. That just made me sad and angry. "You're pretty good on that guitar," said Aunt Melissa. "Have you been playing for a long time?" I told her my whole history with the instrument. She went on to say that she wished she'd learned how to play when she was younger. Of course, I offered to teach her. At first, she shook her head and dismissed the idea as impossible, then she began to come around. "Do you really think you could?" she asked me. I smiled at her and told her we could start after dinner. The whole conversation seemed to put just a bit of bounce in her step. As if on cue, Sam came walking in the front door at five minutes to six. He looked at me oddly when he saw that the table was set for four. "Are you having company?" he asked me. "Yeah, You!" I told him and began laughing. Seeing that nothing needed to be done, he actually offered to help out. Was I becoming a cynic in my old age? Hell, his constant dining here had to be putting a bit of a strain on the old food budget. That however, wasn't my problem. Sam did his drink mixing routine and yes, glommed one for himself before sitting down at the table. I stuck with my diet coke, as usual. I was dying for a smoke, but it didn't seem right to foul the air in a room that smelled as good as our kitchen did. I ran into the backyard and puffed away for a few minutes. Sam stayed in the kitchen and chatted with Aunt Mel. I sat at the picnic table thinking of all the things I had to do: learn three new songs, paint two rooms, go back to Fred's and pay for my new guitar. I almost forgot, again, one of the most important things I had to do. I had to call Darla. That could wait until Sam went home. Mom arrived on time and helped her sister serve up the food. The beef tasted better than anything I'd ever had in a restaurant. It was almost a religious experience. The candied carrots, the steamed broccoli and cheese, everything was just perfect. OK, so I understood why Sam dined over here as often as possible. I wanted to ask why they'd decided to invite Dad to the wedding, but didn't want to start any wars at the dinner table. Maybe I could ask Mom later when I got her alone. Sam asked me if I wanted to go to the game with him on Saturday. It was all the way up in Ulster County. They'd be leaving at nine o'clock to get there in time for the one o'clock start. I asked him why I should go if he wasn't even pitching. He smiled at us all. "Just because I'm not pitching doesn't mean I'm not playing. Coach decided that my bat is too important to the team, so on the days I'm not pitching, I'll be playing right field." I didn't have the heart to tell him that they always put the worst player out in right. Then again, he probably knew that already anyway. Mom and Aunt Mel "oohed and ahhed" over his news. Was I feeling jealous over his accomplishments? I didn't want to be "that kind" of person. I told myself that I'd become queen of my own realm. Music was it for me. I'd leave baseball for the boys. I was starting to get spoiled. I found myself feeling cranky when dinner was over and I had to cleanup. I made sure that Sam assisted me. Hell, you eat, you work, simple as that. Between the two of us we had it all in order in just over half an hour. Aunt Mel even wrapped up the leftovers and put them away. When all was as it should be, Aunt Melissa told me she was ready for her lesson. Everyone went and sat in the living room. I retrieved the guitar from the sewing room. "You got a Martin!" Sam exclaimed. I had no idea he knew what a Martin was. "I've always wanted to learn how to play," Sam added. It seemed everything I did was turning into a job. "Well, you should join us then," said Aunt Melissa. Could I teach them both at once? Hell, could I even teach them one-on-one? I began with the open strings. Once I was reasonably sure they had them down, I talked a bit about music theory. I wasn't a whiz at it, but I knew enough to teach more than the basics. I explained that a major chord is composed of the root (base note) the third, and the fifth. I then asked Aunt Melissa what notes were in a C chord. We sat there counting out notes on our fingers. C - E (the third), and G (the fifth). I then demonstrated the most basic of all C chords using the first three strings. The only string that needed to be fretted was the second string at the first fret. I went on to teach them the C scale. The easiest of all to remember, no sharps, and no flats. They both seemed anxious to play rather than just hear me rambling on. They took turns and cheered each other on as they slowly but surely perfected a simple C chord. To end the evening I played one of the most basic (of all sad song) chord progressions. The good old 1 - 6 - 4 - 5. They seemed curiously amazed and happily surprised when I finished. I knew I'd be bringing my old instrument home from Fred's on Sunday for them to practice on. I walked Sam home and we kissed and cuddled on his front steps for a bit. He asked again if I wanted to go to the game tomorrow. I told him I was sorry but I had two painting jobs to tend to. Besides, before I went to another game, he and I had to have a little talk. I left with him promising to call me tomorrow around six. Aunt Melissa wanted more instruction when I got home. I went over a few more things with her. I showed her how to figure out what notes were in a chord even if she wasn't sure exactly what they were (sharps and flats wise.) She really was a fast learner. I said goodnight to Mom and Aunt Melissa and then I remembered: I was supposed to call Darla. It was close to ten o'clock but I took a chance anyway and dialed her number. "Darla? It's Joan," I said when I heard her voice over the phone. "Are we OK? I'm really sorry about what happened," I said and waited to see if she'd provide me with clarification about exactly what I'd done wrong. "So, you finally found time to fit me into your busy schedule. I suppose I should be grateful that you bothered to call," she said with a bit of vehemence in her voice. At least now I had a better handle on what she was upset about. I was supposed to call her last Monday and never did. Whoops! "Darla, I'm really sorry. I've just been so busy that most times I don't know whether I'm coming or going. Between the two jobs, I'm working close to forty hours a week. You've been such a wonderful friend. I'm so sorry. Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?" I could almost hear the wheels in her brain turning as the seconds ticked by. "You could bring me with you to Fred's on Sunday," she stated finally. How did she even know about that? I guessed that she and Fred were closer than I'd imagined. I was willing to do whatever I could to make her happy. Still, I had no idea how Fred would react to her tagging along. And, what about Aunt Vivian? I sighed audibly, unsure of what to say next. "Darla, I'm not sure how Fred would feel about that. Let me call him tomorrow and ask if it's OK?" I felt that this was a reasonable response to a not so reasonable request. "I'll do my best to make it happen," I assured her. I found myself wondering why Darla wanted to attend at all. I'd think it would be kind of boring to just sit and watch people struggling in their attempt to play a song. Still, if that's what she wanted. "Just make it happen Joan," was all she said. Now I felt like she was ordering me around. If she wanted my help, that clearly wasn't the way to obtain it. Was Darla, the man hater, interested in Fred? I wished it was earlier so I could find out just what she was so upset about. "Again Darl, I'll do my best. And, if you ever want to talk, you know my phone number. In fact, let me give you my cell phone number. Just remember that it's pay as you go, so don't call me on that line just to chat." I gave her my number and she calmed down considerably. It was closing in on eleven by the time we finished our conversation. I never even had a chance to listen to the CD. There wouldn't be any band for me to worry about if I didn't learn those songs post haste. Saturday morning's job was a cakewalk. I almost felt guilty when Mrs. Koontz handed me the sixty dollars. Sixty bucks to paint a bathroom? I guessed that some people had money they didn't know what to do with. She hugged me close and thanked me for doing such a wonderful job. She too asked me for some business cards. I was going to have to look into that at my first opportunity. I wasn't really hungry, but I knew better than to start my second job without eating first. I found it strange that I was having to "force down" a roast beef sandwich. The same meat that I'd been drooling over the night before. I finished it quickly, only because I didn't want to think about eating. It wasn't even noon when I arrived at the Gatz home. Mr. James Gatz, like my own father, had a mansion right on the beach. I fought off the temptation to hate him before I even met him; it wasn't easy. A tall, lean, somber gentleman in his mid-forties (I'd guess) greeted me at the front door. At first I thought he was a servant, then I realized that a servant would never be dressed as he was. A pair of ragged cutoffs and a well worn polo shirt completed the picture. He made a feeble attempt to smile at me when I introduced myself. "I don't think this is the job for you," he said after studying me carefully for several seconds. If he wanted to get me fired up, he knew exactly how to do it. "Please, Mr. Gatz, just show me what it is you want done," I replied and began following him into the back of the house. We arrived in the huge great room that required painting. My jaw dropped a bit as I took it all in. The room was at least twenty-five feet square and the ceiling had to be twenty feet high. I found myself laughing involuntarily. "You didn't expect this to be painted for sixty dollars, did you?" I asked in total seriousness, but the smile wouldn't leave my face. It just seemed so absurd. Well, it certainly would be a challenge. Still, there was a ton of ladder work required. I didn't even own any ladders that would be of use here. Even if he paid me three hundred for the job, it still might not be enough. Somehow my pride took over and I found myself asking him just how soon he needed the job done. I explained, unnecessarily I hoped, that there was no way that I could complete a job that big in one day. He told me he was having a large party next weekend and any time before Friday would be fine with him. Well, I was pretty sure I could get the job done by then. It turned out that he had appropriate ladders in the garage left by the previous owner. As far as I was concerned, it all came down to money; well, money and pride. If you wanted me to get the job done, just tell me I couldn't do it. We both stood there silently. He with his hand on his chin and me with my hands in my pockets. "Well, Mr. Gatz, I can do the job. A first- rate roller job, not the spray job that a lot of so-called professional painters will give you. Still, a job of this magnitude is going to take me quite a bit of time and I don't see how I could possibly do it for less than three hundred dollars." Even as I said it, I wasn't so sure that I wanted the damned job. Maybe I was biting off more than I could chew? Still, the next words out of my mouth were: "Shall I begin?" He eyed me curiously and his eyes began dancing about. The upturned corners of his mouth suggested he was about to reply in the affirmative. At last, he spoke. "You know Ms. Johnson, I have had several contractors in here to assess this job. The cheapest one wanted twice what you're willing to do it for. Why don't you get started on the ceiling and I'll make my final decision when you've finished it. At the very least I'll pay you for your time." Six hours later, I finished painting the ceiling. My back was sore, my arms were heavy, and I had a hard time keeping my eyes open. I was exhausted. Mr. Gatz beckoned me into the kitchen. He poured me a cup of coffee and went off to examine my work. He was back five minutes later and sat down across from me. "Mr. Hospin was right about you --- you do excellent work." I beamed at him and waited for him to continue. "Here's the deal. Finish the room by Wednesday and I'll pay you four hundred dollars total for the job." I reasoned that the hardest part of the job was already done. Sure, I'd have to climb the ladders to do all the cutting in along the ceiling, but I knew there were extension poles that I could get for the rollers that would make the job a lot easier. I smiled at him and shook his hand. "It's a deal," I said. I then began remembering my promise to have a contract drafted. Before I could become consumed by those thoughts, he pulled out his wallet, removed two crisp hundred dollar bills, and handed them to me. I accepted them graciously. We made arrangements for me to continue on Monday afternoon. With the money in my purse, I felt lighter somehow. I pedaled home as if in a dream. Mom and Aunt Melissa were waiting for me by the front door when I got home. The look on their faces spelled "trouble". I knew I was late, but she could have called me if she'd been worried about me. I was too tired to consider the consequences and told her as much. She turned purple as she told me that she'd called me three times and I hadn't picked up. So, it was my fault; whoops! She went on to say that I'd better get my voice mail set up and soon. Of course, she added the dire consequences to me bit should it ever happen again. I was so glad that Aunt Melissa was there. If she hadn't been, Mom would have been a complete basket case. I was exhausted and hungry, but I had several phone calls to make before I could do anything else. I dragged my tired ass into the kitchen and poured myself a cup of coffee. Another benefit of Aunt Mel's presence; there was always fresh coffee available. I lighted a cigarette and dialed Fred's number. It took a long time for him to pick up. "Fred?" I asked as I heard it answered. "Yeah Joan, it's me. What can I do for you?" How the hell did I ask him this? I was too numb to care. "Fred would it be alright if Darla came with me tomorrow?" Better to just get it out there. He laughed before replying. "Darla?! Sure, I guess that would be OK, but just Darla. I don't want her bringing that skanky friend of hers over here." He'd lost me for a moment. Then, I realized he was talking about Sarah. I didn't get along with her at all, but I was annoyed with myself when I heard the laughter emitted from my own mouth. "No worries Fred, just Darla," I said not letting on that I knew exactly who he was talking about. He asked me if I'd learned any of the songs. What else could I do; I lied. We made arrangements to meet tomorrow at two. I hung up the phone and continued with my task. Next up: Darla. "Hi Darl!" I exclaimed when she picked up. "So, how are we going to get over to Fred's tomorrow?" I had to ask. She began giggling excitedly in the background. I really wondered what was going on in her mind, but I was too tired to ask. She told me to hang on for a minute and ran off to speak to her mother. Aunt Vivian agreed to drive us both ways. I'd find out later that she wanted to speak to Fred before leaving us alone with him. Our conversation wound down and we said goodnight. I looked over the missed messages on my cell phone. I was wondering if Sam had tried to call me on it. Had I even given him my number? I thought I had, but I wasn't sure. There was just too much going on in my life these days. I laughed aloud at the thought of a September school assignment: "How I spent my summer vacation," by Joan Johnson. The only three calls I'd missed had been the ones from Mom. Rather than feeling sad that he hadn't called, I was glad that I'd have some ammunition to use against him if he got testy with me. I really was tired. Then, out of nowhere, I began to get worried. What if something had happened to him and he'd been unable to call? I shook my head as I contemplated my delirium. I dialed the number: "Sam! You're all right! Why didn't you call me?" I battered him verbally as soon as he picked up and almost felt guilty about it. "I'm sorry Joan, I forgot," he said miserably. He went on to tell me his sad story. Though the Waves remained undefeated, it seemed that Sam hadn't. He'd pulled a leg muscle trying to stretch a single into a double in the first inning. I was so tired myself that I almost suggested we not get together at all for the evening. It turned out I needn't have worried. Sam wouldn't be going anywhere for a few days. The doctor that had examined him confined him to bed for the next little while. Now, I definitely felt guilty. We said our goodbyes and I promised to call him tomorrow. Of course, guilt can be a great motivator. As I stood in the shower washing away the cares of the day I began to form a plan. I'd get cleaned up and bring him a pizza. Hell, I was starving myself. I didn't dare contemplate asking Mom if there was anything to eat. I donned my green skort set and sneakers, announced my departure, and off I went; quickly before any objections could be made. I was beginning to get used to guys staring at me all the time. The look I got from most girls my age anymore could only be described as feral. It was a strange new world and I finally found myself fitting into it. Half an hour later I was knocking on Sam's front door with a pizza box in hand. Aunt Alice answered the door. "Your pizza has arrived!" I exclaimed as I practically pushed my way past her. "Do you have anything to drink?" I asked as I made my way into the kitchen and began gathering up plates. "Joan, what are you doing here?" she asked me. "Sam's not home," she finished. "Oh!" was all I could think to say as I nearly dropped the plates on the floor. He lied to me. I couldn't believe it. Why? I picked up the still warm box and managed to ask if he was OK. Aunt Alice explained that he had indeed taken a spill that afternoon, but that he was absolutely fine. I apologized for barging in, and slowly made my way across the street. What the hell was going on? I put the pizza on the kitchen table grabbed a coke and sat there staring absentmindedly at the slice in front of me as it struggled to reach room temperature. Neither Mom nor Aunt Mel were anywhere in evidence. I finally found a message from Mom taped to the telephone. They'd gone out for the evening, but wouldn't be home too late. I wrapped up the pie and put the slices in the freezer. Maybe someday I'd feel like eating again. I wasn't sure what made my belly ache more; physical hunger, or emotional pain. I laid down on the floor in the sewing room and fell asleep with the headphones on while listening to Stevie Nicks as she began singing: "Just like the white winged dove..." Chapter 19 Dreams I was awakened by the phone ringing. It was somewhere around one a.m. "Now what?" I thought to myself as I dragged my ass off the floor and into the kitchen to answer it. Would Mom be calling me this late? I had no idea. I picked up the receiver and tried to shake myself awake. "Joan, you have to listen to me!" It was Sam. Why did I have to listen to him, the lying bastard! "Don't hang up, please!" he begged. Just hearing his voice was breaking my heart. I sat down at the kitchen table and kept the phone pressed to my ear. I simply waited. "Are you there?" he asked at last. I wasn't going to hang up, but I wasn't going to encourage him either. I waited some more. "After you called, Mark came over. He asked me if I wanted to go out with him and the guys. Mark had his car with him, so I knew a lot of walking wouldn't be involved. I called your house, but your mother told me you'd already left. I had no idea that you planned on coming over here. As for what my mother said to you about my leg; she told you what she knows. That is, that's the story I gave her. You see, Mom didn't come to the game today. I told her that I fell, but I told her that I was fine. I'm really not supposed to be walking on this leg," he finished and waited. I felt my anger building. His story was just plausible enough to be true. Hell, if he didn't care would he be calling me up at one o'clock in the morning? I found myself unable to reply to him in any fashion. "Joan, open your front door. I'll be right there," he said and ended the call. Did he think he could just come waltzing over here in the middle of the night? I found myself standing with the front door open staring across the street. Moments later Sam came hobbling over. He really did appear to be injured. My heart softened. "Joan, I'm so sorry sweetheart!" he said and groped for me in a tenuous lurch. "I wish I'd told the guys no," he continued. "If I'd had any idea..." his voice trailed off. How could I stay mad at him? "It's all right Sam," I said, giving in but not so sure that I should. He held me tight and kissed me. Damn, but his kisses took me away. I wasn't even sure if we were alone in the house. All I knew was that if Mom was home, she hadn't answered the phone. I told him to wait right there and ran upstairs to check the bedrooms. Mom and Aunt Melissa were indeed still "out". I came back down and he followed me into the kitchen. "So, do you have any of that pizza left?" he asked sheepishly. For just a second, I found myself wondering if he was just here for the pizza. I punched him in the shoulder and told him to take a seat. I defrosted a few slices in the microwave then popped them into the toaster oven. It wasn't as good as fresh, but it was better than nothing. I poured us both some sodas and sat down across from him. The toaster pinged and I served up the pie. Before sitting down, I repeated the procedure. I knew one slice apiece wouldn't be nearly enough. Well, not for him anyway. I still felt a bit out of sorts, but the smell of food was more than I could handle. My mouth began watering and pretty soon I was lost in the taste of peppers and onions. "I wish I knew what to say?" I began. How could I admonish him? He'd done nothing wrong. Well, other than going out when he should have stayed in bed. "I thought your baseball career meant everything to you?" I asked seeking clarification. "It does Joan, it was really stupid going out. Still, the guys made me feel welcome. Aside from yourself, you know I've never had any friends before. It just felt so good to be wanted." A heartfelt answer. He sure knew all the right buttons to push. "Once I get home, I'm not getting out of bed again till Wednesday," he said and laughed. We finished up with two slices apiece. He told me that the next time I planned on surprising him to tell him about it first. He said it so seriously that he made me laugh. I told him I had to get to sleep cause I had band practice in the afternoon. He laughed and said that he wasn't aware that I played the trombone. OK, maybe he was trying a bit too hard. We hugged and kissed and I promised to stop over and see him tomorrow evening. With that, he was gone. It was almost two o'clock and Mom and Aunt Mel still hadn't returned. I was too tired to worry about them. They were big girls. I repeated my earlier procedure of putting on the headphones before drifting off. Maybe I could learn something by osmosis? Moments later my alarm clock was blaring, telling me that it was nine o'clock. I felt pretty good all things considered. Maybe there was something to sleep learning? I was reasonably familiar with the album, but I woke up and spontaneously started singing: "Now here I go again, I see, the crystal visions. I keep my visions to myself." I had her voice "spot on" if I do say so myself. I smiled wondering just what Fred's plans for the band were. Before noon I had "Edge of Seventeen" and "Dreams" down pat. I simply loved my new guitar. I closed my eyes and envisioned applause and accolades as I went through the two songs one last time. "Go Your Own Way" would have to wait for another time. Hell, two out of three ain't bad? (Meatloaf). For some reason I spent an extraordinary amount of time getting ready to go. It was only band practice. Why was I so concerned with my appearance? I had the perfect curls and flips put in my hair. I applied some rose lipstick and posed seductively in the mirror for a few minutes. The barrel end of my curling iron served as a mock microphone. Oh yeah, I was ready for the big time! As a final gesture I put my new diamond studs in my ears. It took me a long time to get used to the butterfly clasps but I managed to get it done before Darla came banging on the front door. Mom and Aunt Mel were sitting at the kitchen table laughing away when I told them that I was off to band practice. Mom didn't even ask me about it, she just told me to make sure I had my cell phone and to be home by six o'clock. Neither of the ladies commented on my appearance. Had I simply wasted my time? Darla's one word greeting changed my mind in that regard. "Wow!" was all she said when she came walking in the front door. "Are you trying to seduce anyone special?" she asked me and started laughing. I spun her around and pushed her out the front door. I ran back into the house. I'd forgotten to get Mom's half of the guitar money. "I'm sorry Joan, I didn't know you needed it today. I don't have any cash here in the house." I sighed and told her that I needed the money as soon as possible. Fortunately, I had more than enough. Mom could simply reimburse me. I retrieved my cash and off we went. Aunt Vivian knew the way to Fred's house without asking for directions. We pulled into his driveway and she told us to wait in the car, she'd be right back. I sat there wondering just what was going on? What had caused Fred to seek psychological help? Ten minutes later Aunt Viv finally returned to the car. "OK, you two. You can go. But, you'd better be on your best behavior." This last bit was aimed at me as she eyed my appearance carefully. "I'll be back to pick you up at about quarter to six. That should give you enough time to get started." She told us to have a good time and drove off smiling. Was I finally going to find out just why Darla thought it was so important to be here this afternoon? Fred was waiting for us at the front door and held it open as we walked in. "Good afternoon girls," he said politely. "Joan, are you ready to play?" I almost asked him if the Pope shit in the woods. He ushered us down to the basement. It was even more magnificent than I remembered. "So, shall we start with 'Go Your Own Way'?" he asked me. Of course, he'd want to start with the one song that I'd yet to figure out. "Er, Fred?" I started. "I didn't get to that one, I'm sorry." He laughed and asked me for my suggestion. Before I could answer, Darla was asking if she could join in. So that's what this was all about. I had no idea that she played any instrument at all. "Well, I see that you've got a drum kit here. I'd really like to give it a try, if you two don't mind?" she asked timidly. I certainly had no objections. Fred, on the other hand, wasn't so sure. He made sure that she understood that she could fill in for practice, if she was able, but that in no way meant that he was offering her a position in the band. She seemed pleased and dismayed simultaneously. Darla sat on the stool and began to wail away on the drums. I had no idea she could play at all, let alone play this well. She began performing a drum solo. From the snare drum to the tom toms all the while bouncing madly up and down on the high hat and the bass drum. Fred smiled at her when she stopped. He was surprised as well. "Yes, but can you sing?" he asked her. She laughed and adjusted the boom mike to a proper height for her. "So, what song are we going to do first?" she asked. Fred looked at me and I suggested "Dreams". Of course, Darla was unfamiliar with the song so we spent the next ten minutes playing it over a few times on his stereo. The second time through she played along with the album; her smile grew wider with each stroke of the sticks. The song ended and Fred turned off the stereo. "Shall we begin?" asked Darla. "And, who's going to sing lead?" Fred shook his head and figured the tension was starting before we even began. It was decided that I'd give it a try first: I knew all the words. Fred would play bass, I'd play guitar, and Darla would add the percussion. I felt the excitement build in my gut as we finally got under way. Darla did a count off on the drum sticks and began. Fred followed up with the pulsating bass beat. I almost froze for a second, but finally found my voice. Once I got started, I closed my eyes and imagined myself sitting alone on the beach playing for the gulls. We finished up the song and all three of us were caught up in the excitement. It actually sounded "good!" the first time out. Sure there were a few rough spots, but even the harmonies flowed like liquid gold. I thought that I could play that one song all day long and be happy. Fred was impressed with my vocal and it was decided then and there that I'd be singing lead on the Stevie Nicks songs. Finally we moved on to "Edge of Seventeen". I had a bit of a harder time with this one. The intro guitar part threw me off a bit. After a few tries I had it down perfectly. I found myself asking Fred if he'd rather I played bass given his expertise on the guitar. "Don't worry Joan, you'll have ample opportunities to play the bass. Have you ever played it before?" he asked and laughed. I laughed as well and had to admit that I hadn't, but how hard could it be? There were only four strings! He handed the Fender Bass to me and picked up his Rickenbacker. We spent the rest of the afternoon working on "Go Your Own Way". I couldn't ever remember time passing as quickly as it did that afternoon. "So, do you guys think there's a place for me in your band?" Darla asked innocently. I knew I had no say in the matter, but if it was up to me she'd be in no questions asked. Fred remained non-committal and simply said, "We'll see." Darla seemed placated by that remark. We wrapped up the practice and I told Fred I had his money for him. I also told him that my mother needed a receipt for insurance purposes. OK, so I lied. Still, I didn't really know Fred at all. What if the guitar wasn't even his to sell? He wrote down on a piece of paper exactly what he was selling me including the serial number from the instrument. The way he handled the whole thing, I could swear that he had a bit of experience in that area. I really felt that it was "mine" now. I hugged the instrument tightly and whispered words of love to it. Even if Mom didn't kick in a dime, I still would have purchased it. Aunt Vivian was waiting for us when we arrived outside. "Are you playing guitar now Darla?" she asked as we went to put my instruments in the car. Darla explained to her that both instruments were mine. I'd just spent a fortune (for me) on this guitar and already I was thinking about buying a Bass. On the way home Darla explained her prowess on the drums. It seems Darin had been playing drums since he was five years old. After the accident, Darla let her set sit unattended in the basement for almost two years. For the past two years she'd been playing along with various albums. She was more excited than I was at the prospect of joining a band. Her enthusiasm was contagious. Constant babble was emitted by all three of us simultaneously on the way home. I insisted that Aunt Vivian and Darla come in for a few minutes when we arrived. I used the excuse of introducing her to my Aunt from Australia. The smell of barbecued chicken filled the air when we walked in. I put the guitars away in the sewing room and joined everyone in the kitchen. Mom and Aunt Viv embraced touchingly while we all talked. Aunt Melissa convinced them to stay for supper. It seemed Dr. Robert Raspberry was working a rare Sunday evening at the hospital. Aunt Mel controlled the conversation as an interviewer would. The entire dinner talk was about our practice that afternoon. Darla and I took turns responding to her questions. The chicken and fries were a smashing success. I began to realize how important the evening meal, shared with loved ones, could be. Things just seemed so much happier now that Dad was gone. I began to wonder just how much of the current feeling of community was due to Aunt Melissa's presence. Darla helped me clean up and the ladies adjourned to the living room to continue their conversation. Darla and I went into the sewing room and fooled around with my guitars for a bit. "So that's what diamond studs look like in your ears," she said at last. "I didn't think you'd noticed," I said chuckling. "Did you get all dressed up for Fred?" she asked me. "You do know he's 18?" she continued. I blushed a bit before finding my voice. "You know Darl, I thought YOU had the hots for him. I had no idea that you wanted to come along to attempt to wangle your way into the band," I finished. She looked like she was ready to get pissed. "Now, hold on a second," I begged. "I didn't mean that the way it sounded. If it were up to me, you'd be in that band in a nanosecond. Your drumming is what made us sound so good," I added, piling it on. "Do you really think so?" she asked seeking reassurance. I assured her that yes, I really did think so. She then started coming up with names for the band. First out of her mouth was "The Raspberries". I told her that it had been done before. She laughed and said she knew, but she also knew that that group hadn't had an actual "Raspberry" in it. I fell off my chair laughing with her. We both decided that Fred could come up with the name. It would be, after all, his band. It was closing in on nine o'clock and the ladies looked like they were camping in for the night. Darla and I went out to the living room. I reminded Mom that she had to work tomorrow. I didn't want a repeat of last Sunday night. Aunt Melissa begged them to stay a while longer. At least they were drinking tea. I told them that we were going over to Sam's for a little bit. We walked out without another word being said. Aunt Alice answered the front door and began apologizing profusely. She said that Sam had finally come clean about the whole thing this morning. I told her it was all right, that Sam and I had worked it all out. Darla just stared at me curiously the whole time. I then told Aunt Alice about the gab fest going on in my living room and said that I was sure her presence would be appreciated. She thanked me and headed out across the street. She didn't need a formal invitation. We found Sam up in his bedroom playing with a game boy. "Did you bring me anything to eat?" were the first words out of his mouth. He was incorrigible. I gave him a big hug and a kiss, careful not to knock down his left leg which was elevated with cushions. Darla did the same. "So, how's the leg today?" I asked. He told me that he shouldn't have gone out last night by way of a reply. I felt guilty for thinking that it had served him right, but that's what I thought. I asked him if he wanted anything and he told me he could really use a beer. I started thinking that he was drinking way too much lately. What the hell was his fascination with alcohol? Then Darla lit up a cigarette and I remembered my own stupidity. I spent a moment trying to decide which of us was doing more harm to their bodies. I gave up in frustration and went to get him a beer. "What, no glass?" he said when I returned. "Deal with it," I replied. "So, how did your band thing go? Did you learn any marches? Should John Philip Soussa be worried?" he said and laughed. I laughed along with him, but Darla went into a lengthy explanation of what we were doing. "Wow, so you're singing lead?" He looked at me doubtfully. "Thanks Sam," I said and attempted to smother him with a pillow. He laughed and downed his brew in one pull. A huge burp followed. "You pig!" Darla exhorted. He just laughed at that and ordered another. "You want another one you're going to have to get it yourself," I told him. We sat there for awhile and kidded easily with one another. At Sam's and Darla's insistence I sang "Dreams" acappella. I couldn't have been too bad, both of them sat there silently till I finished. "I really didn't know you could sing that good," he said and smiled at me. Darla nodded her head in agreement. I then told him that I needed to get to bed, that I had a long day ahead of me. The only way I'd be able to go to Fred's on Wednesday was if I did half of Mr. Gatz's room tomorrow. He held me for a second longer than seemed reasonable before kissing me goodbye. "You sure know how to spin their heads around," Darla informed me as we made our way back to my house. "What do you mean?" I had to ask. Yes, I knew what she meant, though I didn't agree with her. Just for fun I told her that Sarah didn't seem to think so. The shot to my arm was a hard one. "Ouch!" I feigned injury. She laughed and we went inside. The ladies appeared to be more animated than they'd been before we left. Maybe inviting Aunt Alice over hadn't been such a good idea after all. It was almost ten o'clock. I was not going to have a repeat of last week. "Mom, I really have to get to bed and there's no way I'll be able to sleep in the room next door with all this noise going on." Aunt Vivian was the first one to take the hint. I thanked her silently. They all exchanged hugs and slowly began to disperse. Aunt Mel mouthed "party pooper" at me as I headed upstairs to brush my teeth. "Some of us have to work for a living," I said and laughed. I put my diamond studs away and reinserted my starter earrings. Mom hadn't said a word about me wearing them. Maybe she hadn't even noticed? I was certainly becoming more proficient at putting them in and taking them out. I laid on the floor wondering if I'd ever be able to get comfortable in a bed again. The firmness of the floor covered with carpeting was more than appealing. I hugged Teddy and Josam close to my chest. I drifted off to sleep thinking that I was Stevie Nicks and Fred was my Lindsay Buckingham. It was a sweet dream...