DEAD
END
Hannah Sward
I have one hour until I go out on
my second date in two weeks. Lenny. A tall, thin club
promoter with a shaved head. I met him four years ago
at Wasteland, a vintage clothing store on Melrose. Whenever
I went there I’d run into him in the change rooms.
I wasn’t sure about his sexual preference since
we’d always be eyeing the same skirt.
“Any new romances?” I’d ask, as we
tried on clothes.
“I only have eyes for you. When are you going
to let me take you to dinner?” he’d say,
peering over the changing room stall.
“You only like me because I’m not giving
in to you. You must have a thing for hard-to-get women,”
I’d tease, laughing him off.
I finally agreed to go out with him since I made a real
effort to do what most single people do. Date. My previous
date had been with an utter stranger. So, I thought
I’d give it a try with someone who I already knew.
“It’s ladies’ choice tonight. Whatever
you want to do,” Lenny said on the phone from
his club.
I had canceled on him last night.
“It better be important. I’ve
been looking forward to this all day,” he mumbled.
I read a book and ate a pint of Ben
and Jerry’s newest flavor, “Blondie’s
Best Friend”. When he called at noon today, I
said okay. I am really pushing myself out the door to
do this. I will put my hair in rollers but no Nair on
my upper lip.
I don’t plan on kissing him.
* * *
I wish I could be a breezier person.
Lenny picked me up ten minutes before nine, just as
I had taken the curlers out of my hair.
“Shalom,” I said as he kissed me on the
forehead.
“Shalom. You know I don’t
want to disappoint you . . . but I’m not really
Jewish. I mean, my adopted parents are. Actually, I
met my real mom the other day. She told me she was a
sixteen-year-old showgirl in Vegas when she got pregnant
with me. The owner of the hotel where she worked, Bobby,
sent her away for the whole nine months. He was the
love of her life. She said he was pretty good about
it, and paid for her to stay in some resort in Palm
Springs. He’d fly up and visit her once a week.
‘I sang to you every day,’ she told me.
‘I was the happiest I had ever been. I thought
as soon as I had you I’d bring you with me and
I’d go back to Vegas and dance again. See, like
I said, I was real young...I thought Bobby just wanted
his baby to be healthy. Sending me away to swim and
lay by the pool all day...you see, I just didn’t
know what was happening. Then you were born and, well,
Bobby said he didn’t think it was right to raise
our baby in a casino.’ Anyway, I’m not Jewish.
You know, I don’t know what to do with that experience.
Where do I put her in my address book? I’ve been
trying to write a song about it.”
We shoved off in his mid-night blue
pick-up truck to Laemle, a theater complex on Sunset
Blvd. A box of Mc Donald’s French fries was scattered
on the passenger seat. Lenny brushed them onto the car
floor with a dirty sock before I sat down.
“Check this out,” he said, cueing up his
music tape. “My new band. We’re really onto
something. It took me a long time to move on from Cloud
Ten. Who knows, I might have ended up like Freddy if
I continued on being their drummer. Heroin. I only like
weed.”
He tried to hold my hand as we got
into the elevator. He stared at the floor levels as
I looked at Cary Grant on the wall. On level three,
two ghost-white musician types, with blue-black hair
shuffled in.
“Sandy,” Lenny said giving her an extra
long hug.
“Oh, my god. I haven’t
seen you . . . when was the last time? Was I flat chested
then?I know, at Lollapalooza, you were with Rebecca.
No . . . oh, I don’t know. It’s so good
to see you,” she said planting a wet black kiss
on his cheek. “This is Darr, my friend . . . no
. . . what did we decide yesterday? Boyfriend, but we’re
like, open,” she said turning to me with a sly
wink of her long, silver false lashes.
Sandy and Darr began to fidget under
the fluorescent lights. Darr took out a pair of rhinestone
cat glasses and put them on. Sandy took out a similar
pair and put her shades on as well.
“Oh, this is . . .” Lenny
began to say, looking over to me. The elevator opened
and the couple scurried out.
“See ya,” Sandy said with
a wave of her veiny pale hand. Darr tugged her away.
“You’re so cool,”
Lenny said, tucking a stray, blonde curl, behind my
ear. “I’m used to girls being really jealous.
I can just tell you’re not that type. I think
I can really be myself with you.”
I felt like telling him, “Yeah,
with you I’m not jealous. But believe me, with
someone else I sure could be.”
At the Virgin Mega store we listened to world music,
rhythms of African-Celt, Latin and the latest in techno.
He bought me a c.d. that I liked.
“That is so generous of you.
Thank you,” I said.
“Just make me a copy,”
he replied.
I wanted to hand it back to him then.
How did he know we would see each other again? He put
his arm around me as we strolled up the escalator to
see Woody Allen’s Sweet and Low Down. The whole
time I kept thinking what it would be like to see the
movie alone. Or beside someone who I was attracted to.
Why couldn’t I just be easy going about it?
“More Junior Mints?” he’d
ask every ten minutes.
“Popcorn?” he’d
whisper, leaning in close to me, passing the huge bag
my way.
I began to have a combination of the
two melting in my hands. I thought how differently these
would taste if I were alone. Is he enjoying this movie
more than me? Is he even paying attention to it with
me beside him? What a different experience for both
of us. As we watched the movie I thought if I was attracted
to this person, how aware I’d be of his hand,
the feeling of our legs almost touching, sitting so
close to one another. Or how, out of the corner of your
eye, you look to see the other’s expression. I
wanted to feel the nervous tension of Lenny’s
thigh next to mine. But I just didn’t. Yet how
would Lenny guess I was so indifferent? Are we so easily
deceived? He could perceive my distance as nervousness.
Or a stranger, that it was I who liked Lenny more than
he liked me could interpret my giddiness over chamomile
tea after the movie. For I’m the happier looking
one. I often wonder about that. A man and a woman, walking
arm in arm, is he who looks happier in fact, the one
who is more in love? Or is the glum person more in love?
“You know, I’m thirty
now,” Lenny said gazing into my eyes. “My
friends around me . . . some of them are beginning to
make me think. About things I never thought about before.
I had this dream the other night that a little Lenny
was floating above my bed. Man, he was so beautiful.
His eyes were, oh you know the color of the coral reefs?
Yeah, his eyes were like giant reefs. Heavy, sleepy
eyelids . . . like yours, he had. And this incredible
woman . . . this woman lay next to me. A warm, cozy
type. I was slowly gliding my cheek on her silky, smooth,
porcelain stomach. She had the kind of belly that .
. . when I’d lay my head on it, I felt like I
was sinking into her womb. I woke up and . . . why am
I telling you this?”
He cocked his head, slightly to one side, waiting for
me to say something. I lowered my eyes, staring into
the pool of clover honey at the bottom of my teacup.
I stuck my thumb in it, and licked it off. He looked
out the window, and continued.
“I went to the club that day,
as usual, but the dream stayed with me. I missed little
Lenny. I missed that comforting, warm, unknown woman
next to me.”
I began to button up my dark gray
sweater. I suddenly wanted to go home immediately. I
felt for him, but this was too much. I’m close
to his age, but floating babies are not on my mind.
Nor do I want them to be.
“I have to tell you Lenny, I
like someone right now.”
This wasn’t exactly a lie. Don’t we all
like someone at any given time? It doesn’t mean
we even have to know the person’s name. I wish
I had said this before the movie. A slight smile of
relief spread across my face.
He carried on as if he didn’t hear me, talking
real fast. “I just got dumped you know. I mean,
I’ve done my share of that. I guess I had it coming,
but I really liked this girl. We were living together.
Everything seemed good. I’d go to Dead End around
noon. We’d have dinner together, and then she’d
go back to the club with me. She helped me run things.
One night, I came home as usual, at five. I brought
her favorite kind of sushi for dinner. Spicy eel and
avocado rolls. I even went out of my way to pick up
a couple of fortune cookies at this Chinese place we’d
go to. Our whole fridge was covered with our fortunes
that she had taped on. So, I came home and she wasn’t
there. I went to put the eel, which I hate, in the fridge.
She had removed her fortunes from the fridge. She took
off with her old boyfriend. Now I sit in my apartment,
on this fuzzy leopard thing which she picked out as
a rug, and stare at her fat, orange cat. I don’t
even like cats. She left it there. I’m like some
chick, waiting for the phone to ring. I was at the club
the other night and suddenly thought what if I miss
her call. I dashed over to ‘Good Guys’ at
three a.m. and bought caller i.d.”
There was a long silence.
Lenny stared down at his feet. “You
know that guy you like? He can’t be that great
if you’re out with me. I hear what you’re
saying though.”
Shit. I didn’t know what to
say. I felt like crying. Only a few months ago, a guy
I liked tried to let me off easy. Trying to tell me
in a round about way, that I didn’t turn him on.
“I hear what you’re saying,” I had
said to him.
Love is not one person
obsessing. It’s mutual obsession. I leaned over
and kissed Lenny’s cheek. The loving couple across
from us looked over. I took his hand and held it in
mine.
Hannah Sward is a
student at Santa Monica College.
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