We lounge around the living room on the hand-me-down white leather couches, the five of us in various states of vegetation and the newest PS2 game blaring on the TV. The lights are off. My back is to the arched entrance of the front hall where I sit cross-legged in the center of the long sofa watching Billy kill gang members.
“Use the firebombs,” Jonathan tells him. “They’re better in a crowd.”
The doorbell rings and index fingers fly to noses. Cece’s fingers are busy moving through a copy of Maxim, and for the second time tonight, she’s lost a game of One-Two-Three Not It. Annoyed, she flips us off, takes the pile of bills from the coffee table and comes back a minute or two later with our food.
“I hope I tipped him.” Cece is a little stoned.
“Thanks, Cheech.” Bryan tugs playfully at one of his girlfriend’s long blond curls, and swats her on the butt as she bends over the coffee table for her calzone. She’s wearing a thin white tank top and I can see every bone in her back. She’s disconcertingly thin.
“Bry! Stop!” She says something about her fat ass and we all get quiet. Jonathan rolls his eyes and whispers something about hoping that calzone tastes as good coming up as it does going down. Billy doesn’t even look away from the 52-inch screen.
Bryan simply belches in response.
“Lacked bass,” I say. “I give it a six.”
***
“Tell us a story, Wendy Lady,” Bryan says.
It’s late now, and we’ve gone back into the ‘chill out room’ to lounge some more and get high in the blue glow of the saltwater tank. The pipe is passed my way and I wave it off. I’ve lost interest in pot. I’m the youngest one in the house; everyone else will be turning thirty within the year. But being the sober one makes me something of a mother hen. Or to Bryan, a Wendy for these lost boys.
I tell them about almost being arrested in Spain. No one believes I’ve ever done anything remotely subversive and they’re intrigued. When I get to the part about the public nudity, Jonathan announces that he is going to bed. He gets to the door and looks my way.
“You coming?”
I nod, and climb out of my warm spot on the sofa, but Billy protests. The story has just gotten good! Jonathan has now become The Big Ruiner. The nickname will stick.
***
“Which season?” Jonathan asks, sliding a white tank top over his head as he shuffles through CDs. He can’t fall asleep if it’s too quiet, a habit I’ll be left with for some time after we stop seeing each other.
“Fall.”
I step over piles of laundry and crawl into his bed. As I pull my long dark hair into a ponytail, I notice several blonde strands on the navy pillowcase. I say nothing. The most very lost of the Lost Boys. Not classy enough to be Peter Pan, though. The others feel sorry for me, I know, and wonder why I put up with it. But it’s like Bryan said, I’ll leave when I’ve had enough. Even Wendy finally abandoned Neverland when she got tired of the games.
Vivaldi fills the corners of the dark bedroom. Jonathan slips his hand around my stomach and crooks his leg over my hip. He breathes into my hair.
It’s January. I’ll be gone by mid-February.
He’ll force my hand with the strawberry blonde we meet in New Hampshire on Valentine’s Day, never bothering to lie about it. Then I’ll leave, resenting growing up less, because Neverland is a place that requires a certain amount of naivete to sustain its charm.
And it will be a very long time before I’m able to play make-believe again.
Wow. Thanks for the insight.
Wow. Lovely. Thank you!
That was incredible writing. Very much like Tobias Wolff. Still, that must have left a lot of emptiness….
Very much how I feel about relationships now. It is very diffucult to play make believe anymore. It makes me kind of sad, if I think about it.
Very heavy. Nice.
Beautiful, poignant, affecting. Wow.
Very brave writing. There’s nothing I love more.
Jack said it best.
And your best day was when you left.
Such beautiful writing–what a symbol to tie it all together. And my jaw dropped when I realized I’d finally learned B&J’s names.
Wendy-Girl, tell us another story! That one was beautiful.
Bold.
And wonderfully awesome.
next time i see you i want you to first slap me, then hug me. oddly enough i think it will have the same dazzling, dizzying, and powerful affect on me. i do believe it’s entries like this that show why we (and me) love this fish.
Girlfriend, it’s about time. You have arrived. Insert genuine, heartfelt applause here. Really, write your heart out.
damn!
What a hauntingly resonate post. Took my breath away.
Damn fine writing. I’ll be first in line to buy the book when it’s out there.
Siiiiiigh. Very nice.
Scorecard: “beautiful” ………3
“nice”……………2
“wow”…………….2
“damn”……………2
once each: incredible; lovely; heavy; poignant; brave; bold; powerful; dazzling; dizzying; wonderfully awesome; and hauntingly resonate (sic).
Very high praise, indeed… and very deserved.
This is the reason why I keep coming back for more! That was beautiful. Happy belated birthday.
I’ll add another “damn” to the list. That was incredible and moving, and inspiring to those of us who have forgotten what good writing looks like. Thank you!
It took me until the Valentine’s Day comment to realize I was reading about J.
Just wanted to say thanks for sharing. When I write these kind of entries, it takes a lot just not to pull it down and hide it back in my brain again.
Well done. That one had some real breath in it.
Thanks! Wow, I needed that. I appreciate you sharing – at this time I am finally moving on from my own Lost Boy. Flying outta this Neverland real fast.
Alas, it is not all about me, I suppose.
You are strong.
Fish, your writing just keeps getting better and better. That was excellent and lovely.
That was a fantastic piece of writing. I recommend you pick up a copy of Writer’s Market 2004.
you have a true gift – thank you for sharing it.
I just love Neverland. I think it is by far your best piece, amidst fierce competition. For me, it brings back memories of hanging with a similar group of friends in our mid-twenties. Great memories, tinged with sadness and regret. Love it!