July 23, 1988

Toe,
A story for you.

Nica at the restaurant said her parents were out of town so she was having a party. She lived in a town in Northern Virginia that had been planned out by civil engineers who seemed to have an eye toward thwarting invaders. Although I found the place all right that day and on a subsequent visit, I wouldn't ever be able to say where the house was.

Joe and I went to Nica's house early in the afternoon and got drunk with Nica and her sister Mazzy, and together we made a monochromatic dinner of potatoes, chicken, wax beans, and gravy, with white wine because it was the same color as everything else. I made the potatoes and Joe kissed the back of my neck in front of Nica and Mazzy. I knew he was gay but the kiss didn't seem like a big deal because Joe was my friend and we were drunk. We ate as formally as possible in the dining room.

Afterwards friends from the restaurant and from high school and college dropped in, one by one until there was a crowd. Everyone brought beer. I drank and danced to Joy Division and New Order with Mazzy and Nica. We were the only ones dancing. Nica was tall and tan with dark hair, thin and sarcastic. Mazzy was small, had a great shape, with incredibly curly, dirty blonde hair that fell over one eye. They didn't look anything like sisters, and I wondered if if one of them was adopted. We danced barefoot and then complained about the rug burns on our feet.

Drunk, Mazzy and I went to a friend's van out on the street and got stoned. I felt nauseous and said so. The friend told me I shouldn't have felt ill because marijuana subdued nausea. After he said this, I felt even worse, so I slid open the side door, slammed it shut behind me, and vomited in the gutter. Mazzy came out and rubbed my back. I leaned against the van and for a few minutes tried to see her house, or any of her neighbors' houses. The civil engineers had designed this neighborhood so that all the houses were hidden by thick stands of trees and brush. It was hot as hell outside, humid like Northern Virginia in July is, and it felt like I was trapped in that movie Night of the Iguana.

I felt sober again soon and drove home in my late '70s Datsun.

Monday night at work, Nica told me that her sister had a crush on me. I told her I thought her sister was pretty awesome, too, and called Mazzy to ask her out. We went out a few nights later to see Die Hard or maybe Who Framed Roger Rabbit. I took her back to her house behind the trees. Her parents were still not home. Nica was working. I stood at the door with Mazzy, looking behind her into the TV room where we had danced until it had hurt. She stood quiet and smiled and her hair fell in front of her eyes. I said good night and didn't kiss her.

Later, Nica told me that Mazzy thought I was gay. I didn't know if it was because I didn't kiss her or because Joe had kissed my neck. I felt sad, because I wouldn't have minded seeing Mazzy again, to let her know the truth, that I was shy, wasn't so experienced with women, and the guy she had a crush on was drunk and stoned. The one who didn't kiss her was sober and shy. There was not enough to drink in the world to keep me from being who I was.

E-word