I awoke to find Adrian laying beside me on the floor. He was looking up at the ceiling. It was morning.
    "How far did I make it into my epic life story?"
    "Your brother took you fishing when you were seven... then you were out."
    "Boring, huh?"
    Adrian looked to be deep in thought. He took in a breath then shook his head.
    "No. When was the last time that you talked about any of this?"
    I shrugged, "I don't know. Probably not since it happened."
    "Since the actual events or since Eugene's death?"
   
    A pain struck when he said my brother's name. A stab with a dull blade into tender organ tissue. Adrian did not know my brother. He had not met my brother. He would never know my brother and yet my brother was familiar enough to him that he could call him by name. I couldn't remember the last time that I had said Eugene's name aloud to anyone. I couldn't even remember murmuring it to Adrian as I neared unconsciousness.
    I felt uncomfortable. Eugene had always haunted me but something about the way that Adrian was looking at me told me that something about the stories that I told him also caused Eugene to haunt him.
    Since the suicide, Eugene was just that. He was my brother--that committed suicide. He no longer had a name, he was not a person, a man, he was this thing, this act, this means to his own end.
    I was born from his suicide, nothing that happened before it felt relevant. I no longer thought of my brother; I thought of my brother being dead. Every second of every minute of every hour of every single day, my mind did not cease to remind me of Eugene's death... and every second of every minute of every hour of every single day, I still refused to believe it.
    Not since it happened didn't mean fishing with Eugene or Christmas or his high school graduation. It meant not since Eugene shot himself. Before Christ/ After Death. Eugene Breathes/After Suicide.
   
    "Not since Eugene died."
    Adrian rolled onto his side and carefully place a hand on my arm as if to comfort me. His bright green eyes were full up of sympathy and understanding.
    Neither of which I wanted or felt that I deserved.
    I shrugged away from his touch.
    "It was a long time ago."
    I felt inexplicable fury. Who was Adrian to try to help me? Like I was broken? Like he was going to some how fix it? I didn't need to be fixed? I. Was. FINE... and it was fucking offensive the way that he was playing understanding because he couldn't possibly understand. There wasn't anything to be understanding about. Eugene was dead and death was final. There was no coming back from that.
    "Who are you?" I demanded of Adrian as though he would've been able to tell me what I wanted to hear.
   
    The saviour. The saint. The thing that is meant to cure.
   
    He shrugged it off with a joke. A stupid joke.
   
    "I shouldn't bring home women that I meet at parties. It makes for an awkward morning... nevermind that the party was ages ago."
    "Adrian."
    "Oh good! You do remember!"
    I lifted my head to look at the clock on Adrian's desk. 8:30 a.m. Christian had called the day before from London and asked if I could feed Mr. Mittens since Jason had been offered a job and was leaving town.
    "I have a favor that I have to do for a friend. It'll only take a minute."
    "I'll come with you," He started to rise.
    "No," I kept him to the floor with my hand, "It's okay. I intend on using Colgate, Noxema, a Flinstones chewable vitamin and if I find a Pop Tart... I'm going to eat it."
    "I can't figure you out, Audrey. Are you rebellious or self-destructive?"
    "How did you know that you liked me?" I asked him.
    He smiled, "It was how I felt the second that I saw the title credits."

***

    The reflection in my rearview mirror showed Adrian waving goodbye to me as I pulled out of his driveway. I watched him do it but I did not see him.

    Eugene.

    I remembered the way that my brother felt in my arms. Warm and thick like muscles built from years of hard labor and heavy lifting. Pale blue eyes narrowed like squinting against the sun, always squinting even when there was no sun. An oval face with thick, sharp stubble and skin reddened from wind burn.
    There were caramel colored curls tucked behind those big ears.
    My brother had a funny laugh that was deep and rolled up to his mouth from his stomach and when he stood it was with feet firmly planted on the ground parallel to his shoulders and arms folded across his chest.
    The last words that I spoke to my brother were over the telephone. I said,
    "I love you."
    To which my brother's last words to me were,
    "Love you, too, Aud."
    It was a natural thing to say, it was neither special or unusual.
    He died five months later...no, he did not die, dying is neither special or unusual.
    He shot himself, he killed himself, five months later.
    Five months is a long time not to speak to somebody. A lot can happen in five months but I was on tour...US, Canada, Japan, England, France, Germany, Spain... I couldn't be bothered with my brother or anyone else. I couldn't be bothered with my brother's mental deterioration, his failed marriage or the horror that he felt as he witnessed his life slipping away from him and the light slowly going out.
    I couldn't have checked in on my brother because I was too busy trying to replace pedals that someone had spilled a beer on, having the guitar tech give me frustrated looks as he screwed new necks onto smashed guitars, counting merch, arguing with US customs, eating candy, destroying some other bands green room...
    I was letting strangers tell me that I was great at what I did. I was watching beautiful girls try to take Stephan or Kevin behind the building... I was laughing when it sometimes worked. There were disgruntled looks, high-fives and four a.m. van calls. There was being so drunk in Paris that someone pissed themselves. There was the time that I had to be carried back to the van in Prague.
    I was so in love with this life-- my life that I had built-- that I had forgotten to look at the people who had built me up. Most days, I didn't even think twice about the fact that I had a brother.
   
    And he didn't tell any of us that he was fading because he didn't believe that it was important.
   
    I called him on his birthday and he never called me back, not even to wish me a happy birthday which was two days after his.
    Three months after our birthdays, he was dead.
    As I drove to Christian's house, I calculated the date.
    Saturday, February 16th.
    My brother's birthday would've been on Monday. My own birthday was to be on Wednesday. I was to be twenty-eight; my brother would be nothing. The gap between our ages was bridging and someday, without my wanting it, I would be older than Eugene.

    Eugene. Eugene. Eugene.

    We let him die. We watched him do it.
   
    I pulled the car to the side of the road. I curled into a ball on the passenger's seat and screamed. I punched myself in the stomach, thigh, hip and shoulder until the flesh felt soft and sore.

    "WHY?! WHY?! WHY?!"

    And I cursed God for taking him from me and I cursed God for not taking me instead. Then, once all of the breath had been expelled from my body, I sat up, wiped the snot from my nose with the back of my hand and carried on up to Christian's house like nothing had happened. It was no different than any minute of any day in the past six years.
    I just pretended that nothing had happened.

***

    If there was one aspect of Adrian that could not be contained it was his enthusiasm.
    I couldn't make out how someone who slept so little had such enthusiasm without the aid of something stronger than coffee. He seemed to enjoy living and did as much of it as possible, putting his whole self into everything that he decided to do. But, though he was enthusiastic, there was nothing abrasive about him. He was cool and I felt completely myself around him.
    The backseat of Adrian's car was piled with supplies more suited for a weeklong vacation than a day trip less than two hours south. There were stacks of CDs, a thermos of coffee, bottles of water, bananas, apples, crackers, chocolate bars, beach clothes and towels, sunscreen lotion, a change of clothes, the dark brown leather jacket and a Super 8 camera with about ten color film cartridges.
    I grabbed the camera and inspected it. A Minolta Autopak 8 K7. I removed the lens cap and focused on Adrian, going back and forth on the tele/wide switch.
    "I like this one because it takes double A batteries," I told Adrian, "The ones that need battery packs are nothing but crushing disappointment."
    Adrian held his palm up in front of the lens even though he knew that I wasn't recording.
    "We should make a film today," He suggested.
    "Not with your hands covering the lens."
    "Where is your artistic vision?!"
    "What kind of film?" I pulled the camera from my face.
    "Clean, obviously. I've already explained the chest hair situation, once."
    "I'd expect the camera would only add more complications. Who gets to hold it? Who stops to change the film cartridges? Your 'disability' seems minor in comparison."
    "I suppose it would... Have you seen Cleo from 5 to 7?"
    "Oh, who hasn't!"
    "You haven't seen it, have you?"
    "No," I admitted.
    "Okay, another example... a Smiths video."
    "Shut up."
    "I can't say that your reaction is unjustified."
   
    I slid two fingers under his orange friendship bracelet. It pinched our skin together. Adrian dropped his right hand from the wheel and steered only with his left.
    I spied the word 'HOME' on the slim muscle of his forearm.
   
    HOME
   
    I slowly moved my fingers to the inside of his wrist. His blood steadily pulsed to his hand. Warm. Alive. My fingers touched the bottom of his palm. His fingers curled over and pressed down on the tips of my own.
    "Adrian," I spoke his name as though it were my own name.
    He slid his green eyes to my face.
    I hated my face, what was it doing? Was it smiling? Was it worried? Was it betraying me because I could not see what it was saying. I could only feel it.
    I felt a smile. An awkward shy smile that tugged at the corner of my mouth. I brought my right hand to my face to touch the expression.
    "Audrey?"
    "Huh?"
    "Are you alright?"
    I let my fingers slip from his pulse and held them to my bottom lip. The salt of his skin burned into the tiny cracks of the fatty flesh.
    "My birthday is on Wednesday."
    "Really?" This thrilled him for some reason, "How old are you going to be?"
    "Twenty-eight, but I've been telling everyone that I'm twenty-eight for, like, two months now."
    "Twenty-eight is kind of a big deal-- do you have plans?"
    "No. I work on Wednesday so I plan to go through it unnoticed."
    "That will never do... when is your next day off?"
    "Next weekend."
    He frowned, "That won't do either. I'm booked up... unless...well, maybe..."
    "No unless, well or maybe, Adrian. Please forget that I said anything. I only mentioned my birthday because I was touching my face to see if it felt different and that in itself sounds completely crazy."
    "Are you one of those crazy people who hate their own birthday?"
    "No-- I'm just...."
    "What?"
    I sighed, "Scared of getting close to thirty."
    "Why?! I've been in my thirties for well over a year now and I'm still kicking," Adrian faked a hacking cough, "This is precisely why we should do something. Can we at least pretend that today is your birthday until I can plan something better?"
    "Now you're trying to age me prematurely as well... great, I hope you know what you are in for. Once Holly finds out, you'll be in fierce competition."
    "Or alliance..." He furrowed his brow in thought.
    "Oh?"
    "Don't give it a thought, Audrey. What's in the cards for today? Anything that you want."
    The pads of my fingertips recalled the memory of his throbbing blood. I hid both of my hands, flat, beneath my thighs.
    "You mentioned a film."
    "Yes--."
    Adrian's phone hummed and chimed. He rolled his pretty eyes and groaned.
    "How does he do that? He's not even here and he's interrupting me."
    "Who?"
    "Spencer."
    "You should answer."
    "I'll call him back when we get to the first record store," The phone fell silent, "There. Back to my idea..."
    The phone chimed and hummed.
    "If you don't answer it-- I will."
    "I'm sure that he'd love that!"
   
    Adrian squirmed as he struggled the phone from his front jeans pocket and announced to the caller,
    "You're on speakerphone."
    "You say that as though I'm not always on my best behavior," Came the response, "Are you with Audrey?"
    "I am."
    "If I had said that and you had been with someone else, that could've been embarrassing for you... both of you, I suppose."
    "It was a safe bet."
    "I've been reading your diary. You really should get something that can't be broken into with a hairpin... Hello, Audrey."
    "Hi Spencer," I answered, "I'm glad to meet you."
    "It's nice to meet you," He replied, "You look pretty."
    I blushed, taken aback.
    "Uh-- thank you."
    Spencer chuckled, "I said that because I thought that it would be awkward seeing as how we can't actually see each other. Though, I'm sure that you do look pretty. I saw the film and it was quite good. You looked pretty then."
    "Thank you."
    "Soooooooo....what're you doin'?"
    "We're on our way to San Diego," Adrian answered.
    "God, why?"
    "We were going to do some record shopping and maybe make a film or whatever Audrey decides to do. It's almost her birthday."
    "Say what?! I wanna come! Can I come?" Spencer asked.
    "We're already to San Juan Capistrano," Adrian said.
    "So what? I'll drive down and meet you somewhere."
    "It's, like, two hours, Spence."
    "Oh whatever. Gillian is at her mom's house and I don't have anything else going on."
    "In all of Los Angeles County-- you don't have anything else going on?"
    "God, no. This town is the most stupid, boring, dustbin town around."
    "But you just sounded like San Diego was an awful idea..."
    "That was before I knew it was Audrey's birthday. C'mon. We'll go see Shamu!"
    "No one is going to see Shamu. Besides, it's Audrey's call."
    "I'd hate to miss your almost birthday, Audrey," Spencer pleaded.
    I believed him.
    "It would be nice to have you along," I told him.
    "Yes! Give me a few hours to get situated and I'll meet you at the zoo around, let's say... four-ish?"
    "We aren't going to the zoo," Adrian stated in confusion.
    "But the zoo is the only place that I know how to get to in San Diego."
    "You have GPS."
    "Why are you so difficult, Ad?"
    I shrugged.
    "We could meet him at the zoo," I whispered to Adrian.
    "Thanks, Audrey," Spencer answered, having heard what he wasn't meant to.
    "We'll meet you there at four," Adrian said,
    "--ish."
    "Four."
    "You can say four all that you'd like, Adrian. We both know that I'll end up there on the ish part of four."
    Adrian hung up the phone.
    "What time is four-ish?" I asked Adrian.
    "Anytime before five or shortly there after," He looked over his shoulder as he changed lanes, "I'll warn you, Audrey," he smiled, "You've invited him and now you're never going to get rid of him. He's bound for life."

***

    Adrian's film was really quite simple in concept. It was to be one of solitude. An awkward, lone young woman, polished up and dressed immaculately as though she belonged in a different era, or had come from one (in this case, the mid 60s and mod to the teeth). She walks amongst a backdrop in which she does not seem to fit: on a beach where girls are wearing the latest fashion swimwear, buying fruit at a farmer's market amongst people communicating on cell phones, sitting in an art gallery beside someone using a laptop computer and feeding the animals in a petting zoo as a family takes photos using a digital camera. Just when it is about to be believed that this is the most desperately out of place person in the world, she walks into a bar to find a booth full of her friends. They greet her with smiles, handshakes and hugs.
    "In the end it turns out that she was only killing time until she could meet up with them," Adrian explained.
    "But isn't that predictable?" I asked him.
    "I think it's fitting," He said, sincerely, "She might not belong anywhere but there are people who care enough about her to wait."

    So after the record store we set about to make a film befitting Adrian's clear vision.

    We acquired cosmetics at a drug store and a costume was pieced together from a series of antique shops: black patent leather shoes, nylon stockings, a short sleeved cream colored cashmere sweater dress and plastic pearl jewelery.
    Adrian had qualities as a film maker that were missing from Noah. Where as Noah had a tendency of taking someone aside and giving them direction in a way that was like, "telling it how it is" or "giving little brother a life lesson", Adrian was capable of giving direction in the form of a story, a very clear picture of what was going on in his head that was relatable to anyone that he was speaking to.
    I got into the mind of out-of-place lone woman quite easily and despite the incessant clicking of the camera, managed to forget that Adrian was there a lot of the time.
    Eugene.
    Since his name had been spoken, I couldn't forget it.
    Eugene.
    He was supposed to be forty-one-- but with me, there was no supposed to, because I lived and breathed, I had no choice but to be twenty-eight.

***

    I knew that it was Spencer that I was looking at before I was informed as such.
   
    He was about three inches taller than Adrian and wiry, a man with the awkward charm of a teenage boy that had not fully grown into his limbs, yet. He had shortish brown hair that swept across the middle of his forehead but didn't come close to touching his big brown eyes, a long neck and a mouth, that when open (and it almost always was open saying something) was almost too large in proportion to the rest of his head.
    He was wearing a brown sweater over a green t-shirt, blue jeans, a brown leather belt and beat-to-hell white hi-top Converse but there were two things that were dead giveaways to this being Spencer. He had a neon green friendship bracelet secured around his right wrist and he was carrying a clear container of homemade cupcakes.
   
    "Where have you guys been? I've been waiting for ages," Spencer greeted as he approached us.
    "You said four-ish," Adrian countered.
    Spencer looked down at his white plastic watch.
    "It's 5:05, Adrian. Clearly, that's five-ish. I've already been in to see the pandas and feed the petting zoo animals."
    "Hopefully not those," Adrian gestured to the container of cupcakes.
    "No, I had to get my hand stamped and take the cupcakes back to the car. Apparently, something about me doesn't seem trustworthy enough not to feed wild animals junk food."
    "Technically, they aren't wild animals," I corrected.
    "It could be that you're a grown man wandering the zoo alone carrying a tray of cupcakes," Adrian added.
    "Obviously, this is a container not a tray and I wouldn't have been wandering the zoo alone had you been here at four-ish... like I said."
    Adrian feigned a look of annoyance. Spencer's mouth went agape in false offense.
    "Sooo... who brought thee uh--," Spencer let out a whistle and jutted a thumb in my direction.
    "Ah yes!" Adrian replied, "Forgive my manners. Audrey/Spencer. Spencer/Audrey."
    "How do you do?" I offered my hand for a shake.
    Spencer bypassed this and hugged me.
    "It's a real pleasure, Audrey. Here," He handed me the clear container, "Happy almost birthday."
    I looked down at the nine tiny cakes in their colorful wax paper cups. The tops were coated in pink frosting that had been applied with a butter knife and garnished with rainbow sprinkles.
    "I made them myself. You aren't allergic to anything, are you?"
    My heart turned to syrup; so soft that it almost hurt. I smiled up at him.
    "No, I'm not allergic to anything. Thank you very much."
    Spencer beamed in return.
    "I wouldn't thank me very much. They started out as twelve but I got hungry at about four-ish."

***

    "Please, Jesus, no," I stopped short of the bar door and pleaded to the sky, "Not karaoke night."
   
    There was a palm resting flat on the middle of my back. I looked behind me. It was Spencer, unlit cigarette dangling from his smiling lips, who was trying to guide me into the bar.

    "Come on then," he muffled, "In you go."
    "It's karaoke night," I countered, as though it were conceivable that he had missed the fliers plastered outside of the establishment or the off key notes cutting through the air.
    "Really? You're kidding!" He mocked surprise, "How lucky we are that it's your almost birthday and karaoke, too!"
   
    He laughed and gave me a push forward. Adrian, no longer looking like my co-conspirator but Spencer's, gave a shy smirk as he held the bar door open and plucked the cigarette from Spencer's mouth as we stepped past him to get inside.
   
    "Adrian, did you hear that? It's karaoke night!"
   
    Spencer tapped the rhythm of the song currently being massacred on my shoulders as we approached the bar. The barman asked to see ID and as I fished it from my pocketbook, Spencer nudged me and said,
    "Well, go on sweetheart. Tell the gentleman how old you are," He leaned over me and whispered loudly to the bartender, "It's almost her birthday."
    The bartender scanned us as I handed him my driver's license.
    "Is that what the cupcakes are for?" he asked.
    "'Fraid so," Spencer answered.
    "Would you like one?" I offered. He gave me back my driver's license.
    "I'll pass. What will it be?"

    In the same way that it was impossible not to be completely taken with Adrian, it was impossible not to adore Spencer.
   
    He was energetic. He bound about but he also slunk and though he was thoroughly mischievous, he seemed totally innocent in doing such. Spencer was clever to a fault, personable enough to have a thoughtful discussion with, while at the same time obtaining a rare child-like quality in which one wanted to wrap their arms around him and hug him all of the time.
   
    Already at the bar and waiting for us in a booth, were my close friend, Anne and her boyfriend, Henry. I had known Anne since a brief stint she'd had living in Seattle and we'd managed to keep in contact over the years. I had called her earlier that afternoon to tell her that I was in San Diego and that we required extra persons to finish Adrian's short film. Anne and I were thrilled at the prospect of even just seeing each other so we agreed on a time and a meeting place.
    Apparently someone failed to inform Anne and Henry that it was karaoke night, as well. Both of them had their eyes fixed on the stage with mixed expressions of amusement and horror.
    "It's karaoke night," Anne announced as she spotted me. The same flat chagrin laced her voice that had laced my own.
    Adrian threw a hand over Spencer's mouth to silence him before he could make us all aware of it being karaoke night.
    "We can go somewhere else," I suggested, hopeful.
    "I don't mind either way," Anne said, "You just got drinks," She looked at the container in my hand, then smiled, "And cupcakes."
    Henry shrugged his indifference at leaving.
    "Didn't you have a film that you needed help with?" He asked.
    Spencer pulled Adrian's hand from his mouth.
    "Yes. And parking was just a nightmare, wasn't it? We'll stay... I'll go get the book."
    Adrian caught Spencer by the sweater before he could walk away.
    "Parking was a nightmare," Henry agreed as though he hadn't considered it until Spencer said it.
    "What book?" Anne asked.
    "They have this book that's a list of all the songs available for singing," Adrian answered.
    "You can't keep me from singing," Spencer threatened Adrian.
    "I wouldn't dream of it, Spencer. Let's get the scene first, though-- before the riots break out."
    "Surely you mean adoring fans. I haven't sized up the crowd, yet, but they could be a good bunch. You might be pleasantly surprised."
    "I would be."
    "You can't keep me from having you sing, either."
    "That's debatable," Adrian refuted, calmly.
    "I won't work for anything short of scale."
    "I'll forfeit any cupcakes that I might have coming to me," Adrian removed the lens cap from the camera.
    Spencer gave his hands a solitary gleeful clap.
    "Where do you want me?"

***

    For a major US city at eleven-ish on a Saturday night in a place where scene kids were the target clientele, this bar was dumbfoundingly vacant.

    There were maybe thirty people in the bar (including our group of five and the employees) and everyone seemed to have their focus on something different, whether it was pool, arcade games, drinking at the bar itself or conversing. Only a small percentage of the patrons were even vaguely interested in the karaoke and in the little over an hour that we had been there, we had finished shooting the film and Spencer had already been on stage three times.
    He exited the stage after a unique rendition of Werewolves of London in the style of Warren Zevon and made a straight shot for the bar. He returned to the table holding a pint of dark beer with the black karaoke binder tucked under his right arm.
    "Who's going next?" Spencer asked, "Anne?"
    Anne fervently shook her head in the negative.
    Spencer's mouth drew into a straight line.
    "Henry?"
    "I'm still trying to feel out the crowd," Henry said with a swig of his beer.
    Spencer frowned, slightly.
    "Audrey?"
    I coughed, "Well, you see--."
    Spencer's frown deepened. His disappointment so bitter that it was almost palpable.
    He turned to Adrian.
    Adrian let out a long dramatic exhale.
    "I once saved your life..." Spencer reminded him.
    "I can't believe that I'm about to say this--," Adrian lamented, "Spencer, if you go get me a beer and sing another one on your own-- I'll get up and sing one with you."
    Spencer's frown shot up to a grin.
    "I'll buy us all a beer."
    "You just got a beer."
    Spencer looked around the room.
    "Then I'll buy that guy one."
    He pointed to a man sitting at the bar. Spencer pulled the binder out from under his arm and set it down in front of me.
    "Audrey, as it is your almost birthday, I will have you select the song. I'll sing anything that you want."
   
    The four of us kept our eyes on Spencer as he approached the man sitting at the bar and we strained our ears to hear him say,
    "Sir, I'd like to buy you a drink."
    Adrian smirked and shook his head.
    "When did Spencer save your life?" I asked him.
    "Spencer has never saved my life. In fact," Adrian opened the binder, "I think that he's had me close to losing it. Several times."
   
    He slid closer to me so that we could both see the book, our shoulders pressed up against each other, our hair touching as we hovered over the extensive song listings.
    I tilted my face towards his in an unnecessary way.
    His smile broadened and he touched his finger to a song.
    "Is this the one that you want him to sing?" Adrian teased, quietly.

    How soon is now? in the style of The Smiths.

    "Don't be mean," I scolded.
    "It's weird the things that they have in these books, isn't it? Things you never would've dreamed of--," Adrian quickly shut the book on his finger and held it closed with his other hand on top.
    "I wasn't done looking at that," I told him.
    "That doesn't matter. I found the song."
    "That you and Spencer are going to do?"
    "No, that Spencer is going to do for you."
    "But I was was supposed to choose."
    "Trust me!"
    Adrian slid from the booth and walked over to Spencer who was now seated beside and conversing with the man who he had purchased a beer for. Spencer introduced Adrian to the man, handshakes were exchanged, then Adrian whispered something to Spencer with urgency. Spencer had an expression of intent listening, gave a solitary nod once Adrian was finished to reflect his understanding of the situation, then he rose from his barstool and gave the man a parting handshake and wave.
    Spencer flashed me a brilliant grin as he approached the karaoke DJ.
    "What are they doing?" Anne asked me.
    I shrugged.
    "I don't know," I opened the container of cupcakes, "Cupcake, anyone?"
    Each of us grabbed one.
    Adrian returned to the table with the pitcher of beer that Spencer had promised us and filled each of our pint glasses before sliding back into the booth.
    The karaoke DJ announced Spencer to the stage...again.
    Adrian gently removed the cupcake from my hand.
    "You'll want an empty stomach for this one."
    Spencer tapped the microphone then blew into it. There was no music playing and this concerned me.
    "I'm here tonight with my friend, Audrey..."
    "Oh God," I moaned feeling dread.
    "She's sitting over there," He pointed to the booth, "Wearing the white dress."
    "Nooo..."
    Everyone in the bar craned their necks to get a look at me, even the guys playing pool stopped their game to gawk.
    "Why don't you give a wave to everybody, Audrey?"
    My hand made it as far as my face so that I could cover it.
    "Today is her almost birthday and I think that we should sing Happy almost Birthday to her... Remember that 'almost', people..."
    "Why would you put him up to this?" I questioned Adrian.
    "I didn't. He's adlibbing."
    While a majority of the bar broke into a chorus of Happy almost Birthday, Adrian's arm outstretched and covered the back of the booth where I was seated. He wasn't touching me, the arm merely rested behind me. I couldn't read into it. Was he stretching or being affectionate? Why did what I was feeling suddenly depend upon this gesture?
    "This is what I put him up to."
    Spencer bounced back and forth on his feet, wiggling his whole lower body to the same rhythm, as the first few fuzzy bars of guitar blasted from the speakers. He shook out his arms as though he were limbering himself up before the big show.
    "No," I whispered, incredulous.
    I flashed a look at Adrian, his expression was quite proud.
    "Yes."
    "No!" I exclaimed, but there was no doubting it once Spencer half-screamed;
    "YeahYeahYeah!"
    My head dropped down to the table as I went into a fit of hysterical laughter.
   
    Personality Crisis in the style of The New York Dolls.
   
    I tried to lift my head to watch Spencer but it was almost impossible to keep it up. He was taking himself very seriously, adding high kicks to his stage moves and singing as though David Johansen, himself, were in the audience to critique it.
    I made it for some time but lost composure once Spencer started peppering the song with howling and whistling in the appropriate places.
    I laughed so hard that my sides ached and I was blinded by tears at the song's end.
    I excused myself from the table, purchased a pack of cigarettes from a machine and stepped outside to get some air.
   
    Eugene.
   
    Eugene. Eugene. Eugene.

    My brother loved to embarrass me and relished in the opportunity to do so. He would have loved this.

    My. Brother. Would. Have. Loved. This.

    When we were kids, or when I was a kid, rather, because Eugene was so much older, our family didn't have much time or money so there was often just one birthday cake between the two of us. It was a good idea, honestly, we probably weren't capable of eating two cakes in a matter of days. I think that if our grandparents could've gotten away with it, they would've convinced us both that we were born on the day between our birthdays.
    If he were alive, he would've loved this. I could've called him, he could've laughed. He probably would've been having a birthday party of his own. Someone would've made him wear a big stupid paper hat because they always did.
    If my brother existed, he would have loved this.
    "I love you."
    "Love you, too, Aud."
    Hang up the phone and go back to your friends inside of the bar. Eugene would hang up the phone, shut off the lamp, pet the dog and retire to bed.
    This is what should have happened. This is how things should have been.

    I called my mother.
   
    "Hello?" Her voice was a meek squeak, too old and weak to belong to my mother. My mother was young and overly energetic-- surely, this was not my mother's voice. She sounded too sickly to be my mother but-- this was my mother. This was my mother after Eugene.
    "Mama--," My voice cracked.
    "Jane?"
    "Audrey."
    "Audrey-- honey, it's late. Is everything okay?"
    "I'm fi--," I cleared my throat, "I'm fine. I'm sorry to call so late. Did I wake you?"
    "What... no, no... I  was just... what was I doing? I can't remember. Where are you? Do you need a ride?"
    My mom forgot that I was in California. My mom was fucked up on pain pills and psych meds. She wasn't well, she wasn't the mother in this situation; I was... and I was too far away to take care of her.
    "No, mama. I just called to say hi."
    "Do you need anything? Do you want to come over?"
    "I don't need anything. I just... called to say hi. I'm, uh, out of town but I'll stop by when I come back, okay?"
    "When?"
    "Maybe a month or so. Soon."
    "Soon..." She sounded to be fading either from thought or consciousness.
    "I love you."
    "I love you, too, Audrey."
    "Take care, mama," I was about to hang up.
    "Audrey--,"My mother said.
    "Yeah?"
    "You'll come over soon?"
    "I'll come over soon."
    "I feel like I never see you."
    "I'll come over as soon as I'm done."
    "I love you."
    "I love you, too, mama."

    I closed my phone and blew smoke up towards the sky. It's strange but it didn't seem like there were as many stars over California as there were over Washington. I stubbed out my cigarette and chalked it up to city lights.
    A small group of people leaving the bar wished me a happy birthday upon exit, I thanked them and wandered back in.
    I looked over at my friends sitting in their booth, laughing-- conversing. Henry was telling a story and Adrian and Spencer were leaned forward with smiles and nods of interest, heads tilted back or to the side in charmed laughter.
    I did not deserve these friends, this life, this night. They were so good and I was not so good.
    I ordered myself a shot of whisky, threw it back, touched my hand to my forehead and imagined that my brother was warm, safe, content and asleep in his soft bed.

    Spencer and Adrian slid out of the booth so that I could slide in next to Anne.

    "I have something for you," Anne whispered to me. She reached into her purse.
    "Oh Anne, you shouldn't have--."
    "It isn't much," She assured as she placed in my hand a slim beautifully wrapped package.
    I tore at the magenta paper to reveal a black hardbound Moleskine journal.
    I hugged her small frame.
    "What did you get?" Adrian asked. I handed him the journal. He pulled a pen from his pocket and asked,
    "May I?" as he gestured to the book.
    "Write something in it?"
    "Yes."
    I shrugged, "Sure."
    He did not hesitate or pause for thought. He knew exactly what he wanted to say to me and wrote so, quickly.
    He closed the cover and handed it back to me. I tried to open it but he stopped me.
    "Don't read it now."
    "When can I read it?"
    "Later," He gave a soft smile, "When you don't have to look at me after."
    "What tale of horror did you write me?"
    "It's a secret," Adrian turned to Spencer, "Speaking of horror..."
    Spencer opened the karaoke binder with an ominous grin.
    "What'll it be, mon frere? A little duet? Reunited and the like? Our Endless Love?"
    "Don't call people names. It's not polite," Adrian looked over the song list.
    "What names?!"
    "Mon frere."
    "Christ, Adrian! It means brother!"
    "I know what it means," Adrian flipped the page.
    "Doubtful," Spencer muttered, "Your French is atrocious."
    Adrian opened his mouth to speak but Spencer cut him off,
    "And if you repeat that business about cicadas, I'll punch you in the face."
    "You'd like that, wouldn't you? ... to punch me in the face?"
    "Yes, trouble is, I think you would, too... pow!" Spencer tapped his fist to Adrian's jaw, "And why must you always mumble? I thought children of the theatre knew what it meant to project."
    "Iwasn'tmumbling," Adrian intentionally mumbled towards the song book.
    "You just did."
    "Then I can't be bothered... what about this one?"
    Adrian pointed to a song title. Spencer leaned over Adrian's arm to get a look at the song then shrank back, aghast.
    "My God, there is nothing more shameful than two skinny white boys getting up to sing Biz Markie's Just a Friend!"
    "We're going to do it, aren't we?"
    "Oh, of course!"

    Spencer began to write down the song title with it's corresponding number but came to an abrupt stop, his pen thoughtlessly falling free from the karaoke form.
    "Holy! Fuck!" He exclaimed loudly enough to turn a few heads and attract fleeting interest.
    His brown eyes went wide and glassy. They sparkled as though someone were holding a flame to them.
    "Everybody up!" He commanded, "Everybody up! Grab your beers. I'll take the cupcakes," He shoved the karaoke binder under his arm, took his beer into one hand and the container of cupcakes into the other, "Ladies, get your purses."
    "Where are we going?" I asked as we all scrambled from the booth, gathering our personal belongings as we went along.
    We moved like he had screamed Fire! without questioning why and I realized that in Spencer's own way, he was quite persuasive. It was easy to trust the goodness in him.
    "The stage."
    "Why?"
    "Why does anyone go to the stage, Audrey, my dear? To sing."
    "All of us?"
    "It requires all of us."
    Anne and Henry went pale with terror.
    "Why are we taking our things with us?" I was suddenly suspicious and rightly so.
    "Because there is a good chance that when we are finished, we'll have to make a quick exit... because we'll no longer be welcome here."
    "Spencer," Adrian tried reason, "What's this about?"
    Spencer begrudgingly set down his beer and the cupcakes, then removed the binder from under his arm. He opened the book and pointed out his selection to Adrian.
    Adrian tucked in his lips, lifted his eyebrows and began to nod very slowly.
    "Hmmphf," He let out a noise of surprise. It was clear that he, like Spencer, was in awe and disbelief of what he was seeing.
    "And if you put your hair in your eyes, no one will recognize you and your publicist won't have to do any extra work in the morning," Spencer assured him.
    "Spencer, you do realize everything that could be socially, ethically, politically and possibly, eh, morally questionable about this, right?"
    "Why else do you think that I'd have everyone gather up their personal affects? Besides, how questionable could it possibly be? The man's been out of prison for over twenty years... and he shouldn't have even been there in the first place. We're doing the world a great service when you think about it... or at least the people sitting in this bar."
    "I know that I have blindly agreed to this and therefore owe you but you might care to inquire with the other people that you'll be humiliating."
    Spencer threw his arm around Adrian's shoulders.
    "You sound brilliant, Adrian, and I love you for it. I'm sure that the other people involved won't have a problem with it. Henry, do you support apartheid?"
    "What?" Henry asked, making sure that he had heard the question correctly. It was not a question that one expects to hear on any day and especially not spouted off so casually.
    "Are you for or against apartheid?" Spencer repeated.
    Henry froze, not sure of what to make of this.
    "See, he's dead against it," Spencer gestured, "So, obviously, Henry is in and Anne will do it because it's Audrey's almost birthday."
    "And what about Audrey?" Adrian inquired, "What purpose does she have for contributing?"
    They both looked over at me. Spencer studied me then smiled.
    "She adores me and that's reason enough, isn't it, Audrey?"
    I couldn't disagree with his statement, so far I did adore him.
    "What have we lent ourselves to?" I questioned.
    He rested his finger on the title. Anne, Henry and I crowded around to get a look then each lifted our head with an uncertain frown.
   
    Nelson Mandela in the style of The Special AKA.

    "Spencer..."
    "If they didn't want us to sing it, they wouldn't have put it in the book and there wouldn't even be a karaoke version of it had someone not wanted to sing it in the first place," He explained, "I mean, I can't see what the problem is. It would be vain of us to assume that we were the first and, Audrey, are we not beyond such vanities?"
    He winked at me. I took Anne by the hand and lead her forward, we had no choice but to go on.
    Spencer held the karaoke book open for the DJ.
    "We'd like to do this one. Can we go on right away?"
    "Maggie's Farm?" The DJ asked.
    "No, the one below it."
    The DJ read the title and looked taken aback.
    "Nelson Mandela."
    "Yeah."
    "Really?"
    "Yeah."
    "The five of you?"
    "It requires at least five. You do have it, don't you?"
    The DJ chuckled and shook his head.
    "Oh, I have it. Go on up."
    "Thanks. Cupcake?" Spencer offered.
    "No thanks."
    Spencer and Adrian climbed the stage followed by Henry. The DJ took a look at Anne and I, then smiled.
    "I see you have your drinks-- probably need them."

    We arranged ourselves on stage. Anne, Henry and I on stage left, sharing one microphone on a stand. Adrian and Spencer stood center stage with Spencer holding the microphone.
    As the DJ went through his files to find the song, I sort of practiced shifting my weight from foot to foot and snapping my fingers in intervals.
    "What are you doing?" Anne asked in embarrassed bewilderment.
    "I'm trying to remember how the back up singers did it in the video, don't you remember? It was like a shoop shoop dance."
    "Oh yeah," Henry recalled, then attempted to match up with his recollection, "Like this."
    We attempted to get our rigid, thin, pale American bodies to match up rhythmically.
    "Dear God!" Anne exclaimed.
    "I've been reading this Suzi Quatro biography and I really think that this is what she would've done were she in this situation."
    "You mean, facing bar banishment?" Anne replied as she tried to match Henry and I, who didn't even remotely match each other, "You're lucky that you don't live here. This is going to narrow down the places that we're allowed to hang out."
    The DJ interrupted us.
    "Please welcome back to the stage, Spencer and, now, his friends performing Nelson Mandela in the style of The Specials."
   
    At first the crowd wasn't sure that they heard correctly. Some paused in their drinks, some shot up confused looks but the eyes didn't grow wide with shock until we started to murder the harmony.

    "Frrrrrrreeeeeeeee Nelson Mandellllllllaaaaaaaaaaaa..."

    Anne went high, I went flat, Henry half spoke, Adrian sounded smooth and drawn out like a lounge singer and completely inappropriate given the material at hand and Spencer... well, Spencer put us all to indescribable shame either because he was so horrendous that he was good or that he was so good that he was, in fact, actually good.
    Spencer pushed Adrian's hair in front of his face then fucked us all when he tried to do a talk down during the first instrumental section.
    "We're here tonight to talk about a cause that is very close to our hearts..."
    People's looks turned from shock to utter disgust. There were scattered Boos and some woman yelled out,
    "It was not a fucking joke!"
    To which Spencer replied,
    "I don't hear you singing for the betterment of anything."
    And a man yelled in response,
    "I wish I didn't hear you at all!"
    In my line of work, I was well acquainted with heckling and yelled back,
    "We wish we didn't hear him, either!"
    Adrian looked over his shoulder at me and smiled, though his eyes were completely obscured by his hair.
    Spencer went straight into the verse.
    We were all in for a treat because it so happened that Anne, Henry and I weren't the only ones who remembered the music video for the song. While we stood in back doing our little shoop shoop dance, Adrian shuffled his feet (sometimes tripping over them) and Spencer attempted to breakdance, falling to his knees, propelling himself into circles while balancing himself on his hips and using his feet and hands to complete the motion. Halfway through the song, he had exhausted himself and spent most of the remainder on his back, singing up at the ceiling.
    The whole while Anne, Henry and I were shoop *snap* shoop *snap* shoop *snap*-ping and Adrian was soft shoeing in his blue Keds.
    Spencer clambered to his feet during the last forty-five seconds of the song as the fade out started. He placed the microphone on the stand, drained what was left of his beer, pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, stuck one between his lips, handed the container of cupcakes to Adrian then picked me up and carried me from the stage and out of the bar... chortling the whole time.
    The rest of the gang was not far behind us, laughing and rowdy with exhilaration, catching our collective breath on the street corner.
    "I believe this belongs to you," Spencer said to Adrian as he set me to my feet beside him.
    Spencer lit the cigarette in his mouth on a match and exhaled smoke.
    "That was amazing, Spencer," I gushed.
    "Yes," Anne agreed.
    "I've never done anything like it," Henry snickered.
    Spencer waved a hand as though it were nothing. He looked at his watch.
    "I better get home before the little lady changes the locks," He said, "It's been a real pleasure."
    Spencer shook Henry's hand and gave Anne a hug.
    "Happy almost birthday, Audrey," He hugged me and kissed my cheek.
    He hugged Adrian, ruffled his hair, kissed the top of his head then ruffled his hair again.
    "Give me a call when you get home, Ad."
    "I will."
    Spencer started to walk away, he made it down the block then called back to Adrian.
    "I'm serious!"
    "I will!"
    "Okay!"
    Spencer rounded the corner and disappeared from sight.

***

    "Half of the bar closed out their tabs," Adrian smiled.
   
    The car climbed up the hill to his house. We had spent the better part of the two hour drive from San Diego reminiscing what might have been the best five minutes of our lives.
    "No," I countered, "It couldn't have been that many."
    "My hair might have been covering my eyes but there were quite a few of them. I'm sure of it."
    "Is it one of those things that you can feel?"
    "Rejection cuts to the bone," He parked the car, "Would you like to come in for awhile?"
    "I can't."
    He pressed his hand to his heart.
    "Talk about rejection. Straight to the sternum."
    I pained a smile.
    I thought about poor old Mr. Mittens suffering starvation and this, of course, lead me to thinking about Christian.
    "I can't."
    "Okay," He gave a crooked smirk, a sign of understanding without questioning. A sign that he understood more than I had wanted him to.
    We got out of the car, I pulled my cardigan on.
    "Do you want me to help you carry anything in?" I asked.
    "Ah! But that would mean you coming in..." He teased, "No, I'm going to leave it until daylight. Thank you, though."
   
    We stood before each other.
    I looked into his face and was left perplexed by it. He appeared warm and familiar, yet, I was stunned as if I were seeing his face for the first time. It was absolutely flawless, breath taking, and he had absolutely no comprehension of it being as such.
    "You don't look thirty-one. You're so baby faced."
    "I haven't told anyone this but I have this portrait of myself that I keep locked away in the house..."
    "You joke but you don't understand," I moved a dark curl from his face.
    His cheeks went rose. It wasn't the cold; he was blushing.
    "You're incredibly beautiful," I explained, "Pretty, almost. Handsome, obviously, but really... pretty. If I had your face..."
    "You can look at it any time that you'd like."
    "I wish that were true," I lamented, "Oh, to be able to sleep with my eyes open..."
    He lifted his eyes upwards, not in a rolling motion, but away from mine in shyness.
    I touched my hand to his neck and brought my face in towards his. I made it close to his mouth but when my nose grazed his, he froze and his breathing ceased.
    If I had continued, this would not have been reciprocated. Adrian would have stopped me. Yes, rejection cuts to the bone.
    I pressed my lips to his hot cheek and wrapped my arms around him in a warm embrace.
    This he reciprocated, this he allowed to linger for slightly longer than necessary.
    "Hello, Audrey," He spoke against my hair.
    "Hello," I felt myself tremble at the embarrassment of my behavior and what I was about to do.
    I had wanted to kiss him and had he let me, I would have done it. Had I felt that he even remotely wanted me to, I would have but he had given me no sign, no signal or reason to believe that he wanted that from me.
    I was mortified at the actualization that he was exactly what he said that he would be... my friend.
    The way that Holly was my friend or Noah was my friend or Anne was my friend.
    The way that Spencer was his friend.

    I stepped backwards and gave him a sweet parting wave.

    I got in the car and drove to Christian's house, cursing myself all the way. I had been stupid; idiotic. Adrian had been the perfect gentleman and any shot that I might have even remotely had at him, I had wasted long before in the insistence that I adored Christian, in the insistence that Adrian and I be friends.
    Friends! What a despicable, disgusting term! I had enough friends and I did not need one more, especially not one that could be so distressing to my emotional stability as Adrian had the potential of being.
    I mean, what would happen if we were friends and he met someone-- a woman? I would probably kill myself. Ha ha ha.

    I would probably kill myself.

    Suicide.

    Eugene.

    Eugene. Eugene. Eugene.

    I gave Mr. Mittens fresh water and filled his dish with dry food.
    I crawled into Christian's bed with a bottle of whisky that I had found in the kitchen cupboard and an Environmental Chemistry textbook that I had found on the bookshelf.
    I decided that I should take notes. I pulled the journal that Anne had given me from my purse and opened it.
    There in Adrian's legible round scrawl was written:

    'In the sort of honesty that all midnight confessions should be made of, I will say this to you-- Audrey Moriarty, you will always be better than you believe yourself to be.'

    I closed the journal and shoved it back into my purse.

    Then I vowed to myself that I would never see or speak to Adrian again.