The Boy Who Cried Freebird (21 page)

“Damn! That just missed your head,” William shouted. “It could have killed you! It could have killed me! Jesus Christ!”

When they examined the scattered mess Adam realized that it was the trailing begonias from his very own balcony that had fallen. The macramé plant holder had given way somehow and the massive clay pot had nearly decapitated him.

He helped clean up the sidewalk and asked William not to mention anything to the management. He even gave the doorman fifty bucks to keep things quiet. Adam wanted to sort things out before anyone came snooping around.

He felt like calling Tina, but fought off the impulse. It had to have been an accident, he reasoned. Nobody was in the apartment when the plant fell and it was just a coincidence that he was on the sidewalk when it happened.

Adam finally stopped thinking about Tina (all the time) and resumed a normal, if lonely, routine. Then, in the middle of the night, she called him. She couldn't stop crying. He'd been yearning to hear her voice, but all thoughts of romance dissolved when she explained what had happened.

Andrea was dead. She'd killed herself by jumping out of a window in their apartment. They'd been doing Ecstasy for the entire weekend and after Tina left for work on Monday, Andrea made her terrible leap.

“I guess she was still upset about Herman,” Tina cried. “The police were over here last night and again this morning. I can't sleep here. Can I please come over?”

Tina arrived at Adam's place and collapsed in his arms. She cried herself to sleep and as Adam lay next to her, his mind traced back the events of the last few months. He saw that she'd stopped shaving her legs and underarms and surmised that she'd stopped bathing as well. And she was still wearing the tie-dye.

Tina stayed at Adam's apartment for weeks. She took time off from work, using all of her remaining vacation days. Not surprisingly, the couple reconciled. With their romance reestablished, Adam got up his nerve and asked her, “Honey, what about that motorcycle guy, are you still in contact with him?”

Tina looked confused and said, “What motorcycle guy?” Adam readied himself for another argument. “You know, Clem, the biker that got you the Quaaludes.”

Tina started laughing, “Clem? That kid doesn't have a motorcycle. He's just a bike messenger someone told me about. He gave me two Quaaludes when I copped that weed from him and I haven't seen him since!” Adam was relieved and apologized to Tina for being jealous.

So they settled back into their old routine. Tina began using her own apartment again and stayed at Adam's on the weekends. But things weren't quite the same and a gloom pervaded their time together.

Surprisingly, Tina was
still
wearing the T-shirt under her office clothes every day. Adam kept his concerns to himself, even after she received a work warning regarding her hygiene.

Mostly, Tina just walked around barefoot wearing love beads, a peace-sign pendant, and clunky turquoise jewelry. She'd become a strict vegetarian and was into astrology. She even consulted the
I Ching
for her important decisions.

Despite these idealistic pursuits, Tina's dark side was taking hold again. She was moody and uncommunicative and went out by herself almost every night. Adam tried to give her plenty of space but Tina could be quite cruel and the two argued constantly. He was afraid to bring up anything that might upset her and they rarely had sex at all.

Things became even more unsettling when Adam took a walk in the neighborhood and an old Volkswagen microbus with a psychedelic paint job nearly ran him over. It seemed to come out of nowhere and never even slowed down. He actually had to dive out of the way and the bizarre episode left him reeling.

Then Tina took off more time from work and didn't tell Adam. He didn't know where she was and left several phone messages, pleading for her to let him know that she was okay.

Frustrated and concerned, Adam went over to Tina's apartment. He hadn't been to her place in months but he still had a key. There was no answer when he knocked, so Adam let himself in. Tina wasn't there and her bed didn't look as if it had been slept in.

When he peeked in Andrea's old room, Adam couldn't believe what he saw. Tina had converted her dead roommate's bedroom into a foreboding shrine. One wall was covered with photos of Charles Manson and his followers at the infamous Spahn Ranch.

On a table were books like
Helter Skelter, The Family
, and
Till Death Do Us Part
. On the floor, in front of a cracked beanbag chair, was a crude pentagram circled by thirteen black candles. Next to the pentagram, there was a mirror holding a razor blade and traces of white powder.

Adam had seen enough and left Tina's apartment as fast as he could. Then, he had the sad realization that there was one more stop to make before going home.

It took him some time to remember exactly where the garage sale had been, but Adam finally found the house. He rang the bell and the same old man came shuffling to the door. He peered through the screen and said, “Can I help you?”

“Yes, I hope so,” said Adam. “I don't know if you remember me, but I bought some things at your garage sale a few months ago.”

The old hippie looked cautious. “Sorry, no returns. All sales are final,” he said and started to close the door.

“No, no, you don't understand,” insisted Adam. “I bought a tie-dyed T-shirt from you. Remember? Your wife got upset but you said I could have it.”

The old man stared mournfully at Adam and said in a low voice, “You better come inside.”

They sat in the front room and the old man offered Adam some jasmine tea. The place had newspapers stacked everywhere and there was rotting food on the kitchen table. Three huge cats prowled around their feet. “My wife hasn't been feeling well lately,” the old man said. “It's been hard to take care of her and keep house, too.”

Adam nodded and said, “Please, tell me about the T-shirt.”

With some reluctance, the old man explained how forty years earlier, he and his girlfriend—now his wife—had joined a group of hippies who were being
shown the way
by a guru named Sam Hackman.

“Kind of like a commune, but not quite,” the old man recalled. “It was fun at first, but then Sam started giving us strange tasks and was always testing our allegiance. There were drugs, too. We were young and naïve and went along with it all. Then Sam chose one of us to jump off the Brooklyn Bridge as an act of loyalty.”

“That's crazy,” said Adam. “What happened to the guy?”

“Oh, I survived,” the old man replied. “But that wasn't the worst
of it. We were still getting along pretty good until members of our group started to die. It always seemed like an accident or a suicide, but it kept getting harder to accept.”

“Tell him about the T-shirts, Harold.” The old woman was standing in the hallway. She hobbled into the room and sank into an over-stuffed easy chair. “Tell him about the tie-dyes.”

The old man sighed and explained how Sam, who was supposedly a cousin of Bobby Beausoleil, had made these special tie-dyed T-shirts and handed them out to several “chosen” members of the clan.

“And?” Adam asked. “What happened to the people who wore the tie-dyes?”

The old couple looked at each other. “Let's just say nothing good ever happened to any of them,” the old man answered.

“Nothing good at all,” the woman added. “I thought the T-shirts were dyed with blood. That's why I never wore mine.”

The old man nodded, “That's when we decided to leave the group.”

The old woman became silent, clicked on the television, and began staring into space. “I'm going to have to ask you to leave now,” the old man said. “There's nothing more to tell.”

Adam returned home calm and resolute and began formulating his plan. The first thing he did was clean his apartment. Next, he went to the store and bought some groceries and a few bottles of wine. Then he came back home and waited.

He didn't wait long. The next day was Friday and his phone rang early in the morning. “Baby, it's me,” cooed Tina. “I'm sorry I didn't call sooner. I've been in a horrible mood. You know how upset I've been since Andrea died. I've just been staying home. Can I come see you tonight? I miss our weekends together.”

When Tina arrived, Adam was cooking up a storm. It was a vegetarian delight with steamed eggplant, couscous, black beans, fried tofu, sautéed vegetables, and a spinach salad. The lights were dim and tall candles were burning on the dining room table. A bottle of red wine was already uncorked and the XM radio was playing classics from the '60s.

“Did you bring any weed?” Adam asked.

The question caught Tina off guard. “What? Oh yeah, I did,” she answered. “We, uh, I have a connection for this great homegrown.”

Adam laughed and said, “Well, get rolling, honey, we've got a big night ahead.”

Their dinner was sweet and gentle, with just a hint of sadness. They each played their own familiar part and it almost felt like old times. After the meal, much wine, and smoke, Adam took Tina into the bedroom and tenderly made love to her.

Through it all, Tina declined to remove her shirt.

Afterward, Adam whispered, “I'm going to take a shower, want to join me?” “No, I don't think so,” she sighed. “Come on,” he urged. “I'll scrub your back.” “I said no!” she snapped. “Just take your shower and quit bugging me!”

In the shower, Adam calculated his next move. He thought he would distract Tina with more sex but when he came out of the bathroom she'd already left the bed. The music was turned up loud, but he could hear her moving their dinner plates into the kitchen. Adam threw on a robe and came out into the living room.

Then Adam realized that he was feeling very strange—kind of lightheaded and queasy but more than just that. He sat down on the couch and stared at the Persian rug under his feet while Tina cleaned off the table and washed the dishes. The music seemed to whirl around
his head and he could almost see the notes as they streamed from the speakers. Finally, it occurred to Adam that Tina had slipped him some sort of hallucinogenic drug.

He wasn't sure how much time had passed, but when he looked up Tina was standing in front of him. She wasn't smiling.

He confronted her—almost without words. “Why?” he asked.

“I thought it would bring us closer together,” she answered. “But that's never going to happen. You're too uptight.”

With that, Adam's rage came pouring forth. He swore at Tina, insisting that the T-shirt was cursed and demanding that she take it off so that he could destroy it. The dispute degenerated into a tirade of mutual resentments as they screamed and brought up old grudges. Haunting rock music blared as Jim Morrison intoned, “
This is the end, my only friend, the end
.”

Adam tried to rip the tie-dye from Tina's body. She picked up an ashtray and swung it at his head. He tackled her and they began rolling around on the floor.

Somewhere in the course of their struggle Adam began to get aroused and Tina started moaning. “Fuck me,” she cried, pulling his hair. They toppled over a bookcase as Adam raised Tina's legs over his shoulders. He was seeing vivid colors all around him and the music of the Doors was pounding into his brain.

They were screwing under the dining room table when Tina accidentally called him Clem. Adam locked his hands around her throat and shouted, “Clem? I should have known! I could kill you!” The pair flailed violently, knocking over the candles on the dining room table. Flames shot up around them as they fought.

By the time the fire department arrived, the apartment was consumed in flames. The building had to be evacuated and it took five hours to extinguish the blaze.

A few months later, the old hippie couple opened their garage door for another sale. And while Harold put up a sign on the front lawn, his wife slipped another tie-dyed T-shirt into the bottom of the box on the makeshift counter.

Then she sat down, and began staring into space.

 

—The End—

Did I ever tell you about my young friend Danny Whitehouse? Danny was a teenaged rock obsessive who listened to all the current music—then he saw the movie
Almost Famous
and it changed his life.

Danny really loved
Almost Famous
and after watching it about a dozen times, he began buying old vinyl from the '70s, specifically albums by the artists featured on the
Almost Famous
soundtrack.

He was a methodical music fanatic and began by getting every old Allman Brothers Band album he could find. He loved Greg Allman's voice and the way Duane Allman's slide guitar burned around Dickey Betts's stinging leads.

From there, Danny moved into the southern rock stylings of Lynyrd Skynyrd and their famous three-guitar attack. Danny thought Skynyrd weren't quite the musicians that the Allmans were, but they rocked a lot harder and singer Ronnie Van Zandt wrote some meaningful songs.

It wasn't long before Danny was scouring the used bins for albums by Led Zeppelin and the Who.
Almost Famous
used an instrumental piece from the Who's rock opera,
Tommy
, and while the tune showcased familiar riffs from Pete Townsend's guitar, it was John Entwhistle's rumbling bass that captured Danny's imagination. And while
Led Zeppelin's dynamic, blues-based music was exhilarating, he actually preferred the softer, more romantic side of Jimmy Page and Robert Plant.

Danny really began picking up speed as he acquired old albums by Simon and Garfunkel and Cat Stevens. While he treasured
Tea for the Tillerman
, Danny found Cat's later recordings less interesting. The same went for Elton John and Rod Stewart—Danny cherished their early stuff but decided that they had lost artistic depth as they aged.

Then Danny immersed himself in the arty eclecticism of early Todd Rundgren and the lighter-than-air psychedelia of midperiod Beach Boys. He loved the fact that Rundgren played all of the instruments by himself in the recording studio. Beach Boys albums like
Holland
and
Surf's Up
convinced Danny that Brian Wilson's orchestral pop harmonies and acid-tinged production were the work of absolute genius.

From there Danny went on to the prog-rock of Yes and the androgynous glam-punk of David Bowie. Danny imagined that the Yesmen had studied classical music and thought that Bowie had gotten a lot of mileage out of imitating Lou Reed.

Danny delved into psychedelic garage-rock and spent a big chunk of change on a pristine copy of the original
Nuggets
collection.

I was impressed when Danny pursued the seductive R&B of the blind soul singer Clarence Carter. Carter's version of “Slip Away” was used in
Almost Famous
as well as the film
Wonder Boys
. I assumed that Danny would begin another acquisition process based on
Wonder Boys
' retro soundtrack, but he never even bothered to see that movie.

Instead, he purchased a copy of Thunderclap Newman's first album, the one with the song “Something in the Air.” Danny paid a premium for vinyl with the original cover art and was happy to learn that Pete Townsend had produced the record.

But there was one tune on the
Almost Famous
soundtrack that really turned his world upside down. Stillwater's “Fever Dog” begins with a bone-crushing riff and a hearty wail from the group's lead singer. With the song's sinuous bass line, stratospheric guitar, and Cro-Magnon drumbeats echoing in his ears, Danny was eager to purchase any and all albums by Stillwater—but it was not to be.

You can imagine his disappointment when a clerk at the record store told him that Stillwater was just an imaginary band, created expressly for
Almost Famous
.

At first, Danny couldn't believe it. “But ‘Fever Dog' sounds so great,” he cried. “If their music is totally contrived, what does that say about all of these other records that I've been buying? They don't sound all that much better than Stillwater!”

So that was it for Danny and his record buying. As a matter of fact, he sold off all of the old albums that he'd been collecting so obsessively.

Danny took that money and bought himself an electric guitar. Nowadays he leads a '70s cover band and plays gigs every once in a while at a club downtown.

Perhaps you've heard of Danny's band. They're called “The Cameron Crowes.”

(Hey, what about the Oliver Stones?—ed.)