Getting to know all about you.

[rsadelle]

Nette kept this from being destroyed by an attack of the killer ands.

All those people who think Lars is my best friend are wrong. He told some reporter once that he didn't even know all the shit about my mom until we were writing the Black Album, and we'd known each other for nine fucking years then. Kirk had it out of me in the first week, and he barely had to ask anything. I just told him.

I was showing him around the neighborhood. He stopped in front of a comic book shop or something. He pointed at a magazine--an issue of Famous Monsters--and told me, "I got in trouble for reading that in school. That very issue."

"Really?"

He nodded. "Yeah. I went to Catholic school." We walked another block or two, then he asked me, "You Catholic?"

"Naw." We walked another couple of blocks. "Why'd you think I was?"

He glanced up at me. "You've got all the guilt and religion shit."

We kept walking. I pointed out the deli that let us get stuff cheap sometimes. "Christian Scientists."

He squinted against the glare off a shop window. "Don't believe in doctors, right?"

I nodded. "Right." We ducked into a place that sells notepads cheap and picked up another one for me to write lyrics in. I tucked it into my jacket pocket while he held the door for me. "My mom died because of it."

He dug into his pockets and came up with a couple of coins. "Wanna share a cup of coffee?"

"Sure."

We went into one of the diners, one of those places with a bottomless cup of coffee, and Kirk counted out enough change for a cup of coffee. The waitress rolled her eyes at us, but we just smiled sweetly at her and she let us share it.

I sipped some of the coffee, then handed the cup back to him. "She had cancer." I watched him finish off our cup, and we waited for the waitress to refill it. "No doctors because of the fucking religion."

He pushed the cup back across the table at me. "That's fucked up."

That wasn't the only time I talked to him about it. We talked a lot, all those times when Cliff and Lars went out to score some weed and booze and left us home alone. We'd pull out our guitars and play a little while we talked.

***

I found out his birthday and I bought the magazine for him, the Famous Monsters we saw in the window. I waited until Cliff and Lars were out to give it to him, and then I just handed over the bag and said, "Happy birthday."

He looked totally surprised that I'd even gotten him anything, and completely awed when he saw what it was. "Jesus fucking Christ, James."

"I thought you'd like it."

He carefully slid it out of its protective plastic. "Fuck, James. I love it." He looked up and grinned at me. "This is fucking awesome, man. Thanks."

I settled myself next to him on the broken-down old couch. "So show me what got you in trouble in Catholic school."

Spending most of the afternoon poring over that magazine with Kirk made me glad I saved up my money to buy it. Thank fuck his birthday was so many months from the time we first saw it; it took me that long to save up enough money. Even then I barely ate for that last week and had to bum a couple of bucks off of Scott. Now it would be no big deal, but then-- Well, things were different then.

Some things haven't changed, though. We still get together to strum our guitars and talk. We still share the occasional cup of coffee. Every year, I find some piece of horror memorabilia he told me about and buy it for his birthday. We're still best friends.

Comments

[meacoustic.livejournal.com]

I like it. :-) It's sensitive. Don't know if that's what you were going for, but it's nice.

[rsadelle]

Something like that, yeah. Just trying to get into his head while going against everyone's pre-conceptions about his friendships.