Since Danny broke up with him, Brad has been a mess. He loved Danny, and though he knew it wouldn’t go on forever, he wasn’t prepared for the call from Danny on his first Thanksgiving home from Dartmouth when Danny told Brad he never wanted to see him again.
Back here at Tom’s, under the influence of Jack Daniels and dope, our talk became cheaper but more eloquent; Mike got quite drunk and provocative, but I enjoyed his company. I like New Orleans and would not mind hanging around here longer.
I feel shy with Sean because I am attracted to him and would like to know if he has a crush on me or if it’s just a coincidence that I keep seeing him all the time. Leaving campus this afternoon, I ran into Sean again as he was about to ride away on his bike, and when he smiled at me, I just melted.
When I got home I saw live photos of the jet crash; it was taking off during a bad snowstorm and went right into the 14th Street Bridge, killing motorists before it fell into the icy Potomac. It was Air Florida flight #90 en route to Tampa and Fort Lauderdale – the exact flight I took last summer.
Dr. Grasso asked me if I flirt with the girls in my class because so many of them have been coming to her asking if there’s another cute young instructor like me. . . As for Maxine, “Maybe she was trying to get an A in your class,” Dad said. By having sex with my little brother?
Ronna does want to get married, but while she obviously loves Jordan, she worries “because in the last two years, I’ve made him into a mensch and then he turns around and tells me I haven’t grown.”
We stopped at the West Fourth Street Bookstore, where Artie picked up a load of little magazines. At Joe Papp’s Public Theater, we saw an interesting film, Over the Edge, in which spaced-out, bored teens vandalize a sterile Sun Belt planned community. Walking back to the subway, we passed the Guardian Angels’ Curtis Sliwa and his girlfriend and an actor from Another World.
A Japanese lady sat next to me at the counter and expressed amazement at how many hamburgers Americans eat.
I went out to the Broward Mall for dinner and then took a long drive. The phone was ringing as I entered the apartment. It was Jonathan. “I have bad news,” he said.
We went down A1A. I find Miami Beach magical on a cool night when the hotels and apartment buildings are all lit up and the bay is inviting; it’s kind of a kitschy paradise. The Theater for the Performing Arts was swanky, with an upper-class crowd of professionals, gays, and rich Cubans.