Love's Illusions: A Novel

by Cazzola, Jolene

  “Hmm, that sounds good.”

  So since Keith and his buddies already had some potent strains going that could produce different kinds of highs the focus had definitely shifted to growing. Lil’ Tom was blown away with Keith’s plans and had wanted to stay, but Michael talked him into coming back to Chicago for at least a couple weeks – besides he didn’t want to be the one to tell his Mom.

  “What about you?” I asked. “Are you going to move too?”

  Michael looked up into my eyes, inhaled and exhaled sharply before answering, “I don’t know yet. I’m still thinking.” He then lit a joint. “Try this babe – let’s see if it has the same effect on you as it does me.”

  I took the joint and started clearing away the dishes in relative silence. My conscious mind seemed to fragment as I inhaled and realized that I was losing him.

  ~~~~~~~~

  More weeks passed. It was late July – the city was hot and sticky, tempers flared. My momentary happiness at having Michael at least physically back gave way to a sense of desperation. My job search was not yielding any results except for a couple rejection letters. I had found a list of teacher openings in Keith’s part of California, and sent out resumes. Michael had developed a ‘wait and see’ approach to the whole subject of his joining his brothers. Tom had headed west again two weeks after getting back to Chicago, and was now living in the flop house with the rest of Keith’s crew. Both Michael and I were stressed beyond belief, being torn in different directions.

  I lost control of my emotions, and started feeling like train cars were heading off the cliff again. One by one, car by car – as the beginning of a new school year approached; as I remained jobless; as he remained ‘officially’ undecided; as we each proclaimed our mutual love – I felt a spiraling panic, and slipped into that gray area of hopelessness. It didn’t seem to make any difference that I knew what was happening, recognized the process by this point. Knowing still didn’t give me a way to stop it, and I hated myself more each day for being so weak, so useless, and so helpless.

  I did nothing all day – I had no energy, no ambition. The apartment was a disaster, I was unable to accomplish even the most mundane task. It took every fiber of my being to go to work each night, meaning there was nothing left for Michael.

  ~~~~~~~~

  Saturday nights had always been busy at The Canteen. I liked working when it was busy, but lately, serving drinks, and bantering back and forth with half drunk or stoned jerks had lost its appeal. As soon as I arrived around 8:00 pm I wanted it to be 4:00 am so I could go home, maybe make love to Michael and sleep. The crowd in the bar had been dwindling over the last few weeks, so Saturdays were now dragging as much as Mondays. I found myself just waiting for someone to wander down the stairs more and more often, like I was doing tonight. All three bartenders were working – Levi and Rick were currently behind the bar, and Guy had come around, and was sitting one stool away from me with a beer; Charlie was in the back room. It was a particularly dead, boring night – even the biker crew was absent.

  Around 1:00 am I heard a commotion at the top of the stairs, and the deafening roar of motorcycles filled the bar. Guy lunged towards me, pulled me off the stool, pushed me to the floor, and sprawled his body over mine. I was kicking and screaming for him to “get the fuck off of me” but he ignored my struggling and protests, yelling at Rick and Levi to get down now! By that time, three bikes had skidded to a halt at the bottom of the stairs knocking over tables, stools, and the few glasses I had neglected to collect from earlier customers. The sound of chaos filled the room.

  Charlie came running out into the bar – stopping in his tracks when he saw the bikes… I could see his face; he was horrified, and dove to the floor as one of the bikers pulled out some kind of shot gun, aimed at the mirrored ball over the stage area and fired. It exploded sending shattered glass flying everywhere, and Guy threw his massive upper arm over my face. Then just as quickly as they came down the stairs, the bikes sped back up and out.

  For a split second there was silence everywhere, then as if the terror was starting all over again, everyone was up and yelling. I was shaking, my mind filled with fear; Rick and Levi were leaping over the bar running to help the few customers that had been sitting at a far table. I heard glass crunching under their feet as they moved. Guy stood, pulling me up along with him – his arm, the one that was over my face was bleeding. “Are you alright?” he asked.

  “Ya, ya I’m fine – but you’re not, you’re bleeding,” I said staring at his arm.

  He glanced down, wiped his hand across the wound, and replied smiling at me sincerely for the first time since we’d met. “Humph, better my arm than your pretty face.” The next second he was gone, marching over to Charlie. Charlie glared at him. Guy drew one of his huge arms back, hit Charlie in the jaw, knocking him down again, then turned, and made his way through the scattered furniture and up the stairs. I never saw him again.

  Charlie stood up shaking his head, blood running from his nose. Someone had turned on all the overhead lights. I froze – the place looked stark, almost surreal. I just stood there mesmerized by the scene before me. I blinked hard. When I opened my eyes I was watching myself, surveying the whole room from somewhere above my head. Looking up I saw my pixie friend. She was telling me I needed to get the fuck out of here, and never come back. This life was changing me, killing me, one night at a time. I leaned over, picked up my stool, and sat down. There was activity all around me. I watched dispassionately through the eyes of my fairy, random thoughts popping in and out of my head. Police sirens were right outside the door by this time – how strange, police don’t come in here, I thought, as my vantage point jumped in and out of my own body.

  Everyone was okay, no one hurt. Levi and Rick had both come over to check on me, then gone back to dealing with the other people and the police. Some uniformed cop was trying to talk to me when my fairy swooped down, tapped me on the shoulder and pointed. Over the cop’s shoulder I saw Charlie hand some plain clothes cop an envelope. I had seen that second cop before a few times, usually at the Sunrise Diner; he would sit at the counter, Charlie would always go over to talk to him while the rest of us ate breakfast, and usually they’d walk outside for a while… I never thought anything about it, never even realized he was a cop, but now, oh my God, Charlie was paying him off. The next thing I saw all the police were leaving.

  Michael appeared out of nowhere – he wasn’t there when the bikers came, but he was there now hugging me, and asking if I was hurt. “No, I’m fine – I’m not hurt, I promise… I think I’m just in shock or something,” I told him. “I don’t want to be here anymore Michael. I can’t work here… I just can’t do it. Take me home please?”

  “I know, you’re right. Let me talk to Rick and then we’ll go,” he replied.

  As he turned heading for the other side of the room where Levi and Rick were starting to argue with Charlie, my pixie looked down at him, and shook her head – then she disappeared.

  Chapter Thirty

  Moving On

  Finally I had three interviews scheduled. The first was as an art teacher for high school students in Elk Grove Village. The whole process was a disaster. “He hated me from the moment I walked in the door Michael. I swear I hadn’t said more than ‘hello’ while shaking his hand and the man hated me!” I exclaimed while we ate dinner that night.

  “You’re imagining it Jackie, he didn’t hate you,” he replied.

  “Yes, he did – I swear he did. The whole thing started out just fine. One of the other teachers showed me the school – they have a big art department, and I got along just fine with her – but then when she brought me back to the office and Mr. Jamison came out… Well I swear he took one look at me and that was that. He looked exactly like every high school principal I’ve ever seen. When I went into the office I felt like I was there to be punished because my dress was too short or something instead of being interviewed for a job.”

  Michael laughe
d, “So how many times did you get hauled into the office for your dress being too short when you were in high school?”

  “A lot… but I wore my divorce dress. You know what that looks like – Christ, I look like a friggin’ nun in that dress,” I bantered back.

  “Hmph, yeah, ya do,” he replied.

  “So my point is, it was something else, and whatever it was, it was instantaneous. I mean the whole interview with him only last ten minutes.” I exhaled emphatically. “So I called Lana when I got home, and she said she’d give him a call tomorrow to get some feedback. I have to know what I did wrong before the other two interviews next week.”

  “Where are the other schools again,” Michael asked.

  “The next one is out in Rockford. I have to figure out how long it’s going to take me to drive out there – it’s about 90 miles, isn’t’ it?” I asked him.

  “Yeah about. You better leave at least two, maybe two and a half hours, in case you get lost,” he said. “You’re gonna hate Rockford. It’s in the middle of nowhere.”

  “Yeah, I know, but it’s a job, and it keeps me semi-close. At least I could see you on weekends,” I glanced up from my plate at him, “unless you go to California of course.”

  He didn’t answer. He hesitated over his food for a moment, then stabbed a piece of his pork chop with a fork, shoved it in his mouth and changed the subject. “Where’s the third interview?” he asked.

  “It’s in Worcester, Massachusetts. I told you – the director there is going to be in Chicago next week. We’re doing the interview at school. You didn’t answer me about California Michael.”

  I felt like the world hinged on his answer. Do I really want to know? Ever since he got back from his visit, the idea of him moving out there with Keith had hung like a dark cloud between us. Tom was doing well with the move so far, and was pushing for Michael to join them. Shirley wanted him to stay in Chicago. I didn’t know what I wanted. Well actually, I wanted him; he was my best friend, my lover. On one hand he made me feel safe and secure; no matter how dark my mood got, no matter how hard it was for me to get out of bed, he seemed to understand. He could read the fine line differences so when I’d say I wanted to kill myself, he knew I didn’t mean I wanted to commit suicide, but only that I wanted to die because dying was an easier thought to express than solving whatever the problem was at that moment. He didn’t think I was crazy – never looked at me with a sense of pity.

  I thought about just picking up, and heading west with him if he went, saying ‘fuck it’ to the world as I knew it. At least with him I’d never have to worry about where the next high was coming from. Could I pitch it all? Sometimes I thought ‘yes’, but whenever I started to think like that I remembered my parents, and my pixie shaking her head ‘no’ the night The Canteen was shot up. At first I thought she meant ‘no’ to the bar, but later I thought it meant ‘no’ to Michael. I loved him, I was sure of it, but I didn’t love what he did for a living. I had always known I couldn’t live with a dealer on a long term basis, it was one of the driving reasons in my decision when I got pregnant – that was not a life for a child. But now, after The Canteen, and every time I saw the scar on his side, it terrified me. I wanted to keep on pretending that he was a mechanic, and only a dealer ‘on the side’ but, well… I could be naïve, but I wasn’t stupid. I knew most of his income came from drugs.

  “I’m going,” he said.

  The food caught in my throat; I almost couldn’t swallow. Tears welled up in my eyes. I tried to take a deep breath, but couldn’t – it felt like one railroad car after another was crashing to the valley below, crushing me in the rubble. Michael had his arms around me now, leading me from the table to the couch. He held me whispering, “I love you, Jackie. I love you – come with me, nothing has to change between us. It could be just like it is now, only in California,” He just kept repeating, “come with me,” over and over as one tear after another formed, rolled down my cheek, and dropped onto his shirt.

  My mind bounced around from one thing to another – thoughts coming and going at the speed of light. I didn’t speak, I couldn’t. I felt hurt, heartbroken and yet it was a relief to have an answer. I had sensed this was coming ever since he announced he was going to visit Keith, so now I knew for sure. No more guessing – I didn’t do well not knowing. This wasn’t the answer I wanted, but it was an answer. He was being honest with me… God I loved this man – how was I going to make it through the day without him? We had been together two years – two tumultuous years – maybe we could make it through this too?

  “Can we talk?” he asked. I nodded feeling the tears slowing down, not stopping, but slowing as the knot in my throat subsided some. I knew as soon as I started to talk my emotions would grab hold of me, I’d break again, but I was ready.

  “When are you leaving?” I asked.

  “I don’t know. Not until you’re settled – have found a job you want or …” he hesitated, “or have decided to come with me.”

  “I love you, but I can’t live like Keith does – you know that.”

  “I know, but we wouldn’t be living with him, we’d have our own place. If you were there, it would be easier to find a teaching job – I know you could find one.”

  “You know that’s not what I mean Michael. I’m not worried about an apartment or house, I’m afraid of you becoming like your brother, of getting further and further into a life that you’ll never be able to get out of. You’ve already been stabbed once – don’t you remember telling me that you knew there was no future in dealing?”

  “Yes, I remember… but this is different…”

  “No, it’s not,” I said cutting him off in mid-phrase. “It doesn’t matter if it’s some black street gang or a professional grow house like you’re talking about now – you can still get hurt or killed! I mean shit, look what just happened at The Canteen. I know you said those guys weren’t trying to hurt anyone, just send Charlie a message, but my God Michael – they shot up the fuckin’ place. They could’ve killed all of us if they’d wanted to! I don’t want that to happen to you!”

  “Charlie owned them a lot of money. He wasn’t who you thought he was – he was ripping off his partners, and he got caught. I’m not gonna do that. You never saw it because you liked him – you were blind, but everyone else knew it was happening – they knew he was skimming, and that it would blow up someday!”

  “My point exactly! It will all blow up someday – you don’t have to be skimming to have things blow up! You’re talking about dealing. It’s illegal! These people aren’t gonna play by any rules but their own. You’re not talking about dime bags anymore, you’re talking fuckin’ kilos! You call me blind, but for Christ’s sake, open your eyes – this scheme of Keith’s is going to explode just like that mirrored ball exploded!” I took a deep breath, exhaling through my nose and lowering my tone. “I can’t Michael, I can’t watch you get hurt.”

  His mind was made up – I could see it in his eyes. It was the same expression he had when we were talking about the abortion – it didn’t matter that I was right, he knew I was. The difference was that this time the bottom line decision was his, not mine.

  “I don’t want to argue, Jackie,” he sighed. “I don’t have any skills; this is the only way I can get out of the south side, out of that damn garage. I want more than that, for me and for you.”

  “Of course you have skills. You could go back to school, like my father suggested – you’re smart, you could be an engineer if you wanted to be.”

  “Hmph, right – that was an act, just an act so your father wouldn’t freak out,” he replied shaking his head. “I was never going to go back to school, I was always in trouble when I was there and my grades sucked. Besides, I don’t have the money and my Mom sure can’t help – shit I give her money. You’ve never understood how lucky you are to have your parents there to help, even if they do drive you crazy, and tell you what to do. Besides, I’m not like you – I hated school, Jackie.”
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  “I’d help you,” I said.

  He looked me in the eyes and tears began to roll down my cheeks again. He cupped my face in his hands wiping them away with his large thumbs, then leaned over and kissed me. I felt the tingle, my heart started to pound, as if it was the first time we had ever touched.

  “If I get one of these jobs, you could come with me,” I said between kisses.

  “Yeah, and what would I do all day?” he murmured as he pushed me back on the couch running his hands under my shirt and pulling it off over my head.

  “Well… you could just… stop kissing my neck… I can’t think when you do that…” My fingers were tangled in his hair, trying half-heartedly to pull his head back.

  “I know – that’s why I’m doing it,” he said smiling back at me.

  “I mean… you wouldn’t have to do anything… Oh my God Michael,” I sighed, “that feels wonderful… but, listen, please. I’d be working so we could live… We’d have time to figure things out I mean.”

  He was slowly, deliberately working his way down my body, his lips engulfing my nipples, his hands circling, and caressing my thighs. “No… no Jackie, I won’t live off you,” he said rising up enough to pull his own shirt off. “Now hush – we’ll finish talking later. I don’t think straight either when I have a beautiful, naked woman under me.”

  ~~~~~~~~

  Would I ever stop crying? I was trying to stop, but I just kept hearing those words in my head ‘I’m going’. I couldn’t lose him, but I couldn’t be with him either. For the last week, we each tried to convince the other hoping, praying that the other would change their mind, but we were at another impasse.