All The Young Punks Pt. 14

Part 14 is rated R.

---- JUNE 1979 ----

Joe opened his session in a good mood, telling Dr. Nichols about the legendary graduation bash. She wanted to discuss the girl trouble mentioned in his last visit. He updated her on his love life. She listened passively as he described what happens on the road. It took a while because Joe enjoyed telling his beautiful, intelligent, and empathetic therapist about girls hitting on him, and... he shrugged, "What's a guy to do?" He was hoping for a reaction.

Over the years, almost seven, he occasionally got that reaction after discussing a fight he was in, or some other questionable behavior he confessed to. Now it was all about girls. He mentioned his dinner with Sandy. Dr. Nichols was well acquainted with her. Then he updated her on Claire.

"She's great. We're having fun. I shouldn't be complaining but here I am wanting..." he struggled for the right word.

"A commitment?"

Joe winced. "That's a strong word. I just think she feels the same way I do, but she's got this summer dude and... I guess that's our deal."

"Are you jealous of the summer friend she has?"

Joe thought for a moment. "No. Is that weird? She knew him long before me. I don't feel jealous. I just want what I want."

She scribbled in her notebook, then looked up. "So you have a few casual girlfriends on the road and Claire who you'd prefer a real relationship with. And Sandy is still in orbit."

"Yeah. I guess that's it. I should be happy. The girls are great. I just want more." Joe looked down at his lap. "I want one thing but I'm doing the other."

Dr Nichols adjusted her bottom in her chair, looking down at her notes. "Do you know that this is one of your mother's biggest fears?"

"What?"

The doctor exhaled, "These are her concerns, not mine, but after our last two sessions maybe her fears are not unreasonable." She paused. "Your mother is worried that this band, being a musician, and that lifestyle will lead you to a life of promiscuity."

Joe smirked, "Of course she is. That's Catholic Mother Superior talking."

"Do you feel you're being promiscuous?" She recrossed her legs.

Joe pretended he was thinking, but he was just looking at her long, beautiful. nylon-covered legs. Those legs kept him in therapy. He rode the stinky bus through crosstown traffic just to see those legs. He exhaled. "I'm no angel," he paused. "The thing is, I told you these stories because I'm having a hard time with this. I'm having fun, but sometimes I feel..." Joe thought for a moment. "I don't know what I feel. It's just not good."

"Well, Joe. That's an encouraging sign. You have enough conscience to understand that maybe this lifestyle is not for you. Sometimes we have to wander on the wrong path before we realize it's not the path we wish to be on. You're not a cold, cynical Lothario. You're a young man learning his way."

"I'm on the road to ruin," he said under his breath.

Nearing the end of the session, Dr. Nichols handed Joe a business card.

"Who's Marvin Weintraub?"

"He's a well-respected psychologist and a friend. I think he'd be good for you?"

"Are you breaking up with me?"

"You're eighteen, Joe. I work with adolescents and teens. Look at it as being promoted to the big leagues."

"Fuck that. I'm not doing this."

"Why?"

"You know everything about me, and my problems. I trust you. I'm not starting over with a new therapist. Besides, when Marvin gets a load of the shitshow between my ears, he'll be singing, 'Cha-Ching, hello new sailboat."

Dr Nichols stifled a laugh. "He is not unfamiliar with your situation and I would bring him up to speed. You wouldn't be starting from scratch. I'd be passing the baton."

"Nope. If you and I are done," Joe shrugged, "I guess I'm finished with therapy."

Dr Nichols sighed, "That's your decision, but I hope you reconsider." She glanced at her notes, flipping pages. When she looked up at Joe, he was staring at her low-cut neckline and cleavage.

"There's something I want to say, Joe, and it could be extremely awkward."

"Oh?"

"Yes. It's about your mother. We've discussed her many times over the years. I know you don't truly understand why she's so hard on you... but no one else."

"Pfft. I know. She's never crazy with the girls... or even Dad. It's just me."

Dr. Nichols paused a moment. Joe took that time to admire her perfectly placed hair. Her brunette bob hairstyle had grown out. It tickled her shoulders. He loved the big looping curls she had to move away from her face from time to time.

"This is not going to be easy, but I think you have a right to know your mother's reasons for being as difficult on you as she is."

"Besides her insane level and anxiety?"

"Yes, and maybe an explanation of some of her fears.

"What is it this time?" Joe drummed his long fingers on the arm of his leather chair. "It's always something irrational."

Dr. Nichols exhaled and put her hand to her brow, looking down at her notes. "I thought about telling you this some time ago. But, because it could have affected our working relationship, I held it to the very end."

"Way to build suspense, Doc."

"I'm sorry. I'm proud of you for putting in all the work over the years. You're my oldest patient, in age and the number of years I've been seeing you. I know you've done the work and you deserve to know the truth."

"Okay," Joe was beginning to feel concerned.

"I don't know how to say this, so I'll just come out with it. Forgive me if I embarrass you."

Joe sat perfectly still as the doctor searched her mind for the words.

"Years ago your mother told me you had a physical characteristic that alarmed her. That, and the fact you're pursuing a life in music has her convinced you'll lead a life of promiscuity."

Joe slightly smirked because he knew what it was, but he wasn't going to say so. On one hand, he wanted to laugh, but he was too stunned that his mother could even summon the nerve. More than anything, he wanted to hear Dr. Nichols explain it. Barbara Nichols stared at Joe, hoping he could do the math and let her off the hook. He did not. Joe wanted her to say it.

"In your mother's opinion, you are well endowed." She glanced briefly at his jeans, then back up.

Joe had a chubby, not the first boner he had in Dr. Nichols' office. It was pretty common for him to be aroused in these sessions. He knew she had noticed in the past, and he assumed that she knew that he knew. It was a very awkward moment for the doctor. Joe smiled. He enjoyed the discomfort, so he sat it for several seconds, looking her in the eyes with a dumb smirk on his face. Then he spoke slowly and softly.

"My Mom, the uptight Catholic, mother of five, who never swears... actually brought this up to you in conversation? It's inconceivable. She's a Puritan prude."

"Trust me, it was difficult for her to say it."

"Was this face-to-face or on the phone?"

"Over the phone."

"Yeah," get nodded. "I suppose that's easier." He paused a moment then smiled. "I don't know how many dicks my Mom has seen to make that judgment, but I'm guessing not many."

Dr. Nichols smirked. "You don't need to see many to know a big one when you see it."

"Okay." Joe leaned forward and whispered as if someone else was in the room. "This is messed up, right? Mothers don't talk about their son's dicks, right? My mother is really screwed n the head... right?"

"That's harsh, but yes, this is the only time a mother has discussed such a thing with me."

Dr. Nichols shifted uncomfortably. Her legs moved from her left to her right. Joe watched her legs. He enjoyed that she felt uneasy. It was deliciously amusing to him.

"I only told you this so you might understand why she thinks the way she does. Her faith and morals clash with the lifestyle she sees you falling into. These last sessions suggest her fears may not be unwarranted."

"I call it the road to ruin. Whenever she goes on about my future I tell her I'm on the road to ruin. And just for the record, Doc. I'm not embarrassed." He smiled. "Not as much as you are right now."

Dr. Nichols looked down at her notes in her lap. "Yes, well, it wasn't easy for me to say, but I thought it might be helpful for you to know this."

In the outer office, Joe put his jacket on and turned back to Dr. Nichols. "So this is it?"

"I'm afraid so."

"Ya know, this is the first time being eighteen actually sucks."

Dr Nichols smiled, extending her hand. Joe took it, then used it to pull her close for a hug. She was taken by surprise. Joe smelled her hair and perfume. He half whispered. "Thank you, Dr. Nichols, for everything, but mostly for being a woman I can trust." He leaned back, looked her in the eyes for a long moment, turned, and walked out.

Joe felt a surge of emotions on Brooks Street. He had planned on stopping at Victory Records but he suddenly felt ill, not physically sick, but not well. He walked briskly past the shop and went straight to the bus stop.

On the Ten Bus, he stared straight ahead, not seeing, not hearing, his senses dulled by the thoughts in his head. Joe said he wanted to quit therapy when he was sixteen, again at seventeen, more than a few times, but he always returned to Dr. Nichols. It was comforting to know she was there for him. On that bus ride that he'd taken countless times, he was feeling genuine loss. It hurt.

Then his thoughts shifted to his mother talking to his therapist about his dick? What the fuck is that about? He got goosebumps. It was so damn creepy. He contemplated confronting her but couldn't image what he'd say, or if anything he could say would matter. It might be best to forget it happened... as if that was possible.

---- THE ROAD TO RUIN ---

"How many times has Nate gotten stupid drunk since he joined the band?" Joe said, pointing at his drummer. "Too many to count. Are you concerned about his drinking?"

Joe paced between the sofas in the garage. Sal had just mentioned the guys were concerned about Joe's drinking, recalling an occasion when he got stumbling drunk after a gig and a couple of pass-outs. Joe wasn't denying anything, he just couldn't believe these guys had the balls to question his drinking. The band sat on the sofas while Pops watched from the kitchen. Joe paced between them.

"How about you?" He stopped in front of Sal, looking down. "Remember when you puked in The Foundry parking lot? How about the time I had to drive us back from the beach, the guy with no fucking license, because you were all too fucked up." He waved his finger at all three. "Does that shit worry you?"

"He didn't say we weren't drinking," Johnny said, "just that you're drinking more than usual."

"Have I been drinking more?" Joe asked in a mocking tone. "Yes, I have. Have I fucked up a gig? No! Because I never get drunk during a show." He shrugged his shoulders. "So, what's the fucking problem then?

"You don't drink that much," Sal said. "I never saw you really drunk until a couple of months ago... so it's kinda obvious."

"Oh, I get it, the regular drunks get a free pass, that's just what they do, but I get fucked up and it's a problem for the drunks to see the straight guy hammered. You guys are the last fuckers who should be giving me shit about drinking."

It was Johnny's idea to ask Joe if he was okay, but Sal took the lead, and now he was taking the brunt of Joe's indignant wrath. Johnny felt bad, so he spoke up.

"Look," he said. "We're only asking if you're okay. No one is pointing fingers. There's no need to get defensive."

Pop's walked over and put his hand on Joe's shoulder. "Okay, kid. Don't take your friends expressing concern as an insult. That's what friends do. Now you know what they're thinking. Let's leave it at that."

"Do I have to watch myself around them now, be a good boy, so they don't worry.... while they get fucking plastered?"

"Joe," Pops looked him in the eyes. "Let it go."

Joe was offended and defensive because he couldn't believe these guys had a problem with his drinking when getting hammered was standard procedure for Nate and Sal, but not so much for Johnny. If Sal didn't have to drive, he drank hard, and Nate was easily the hardest drinker in the band. Nate knew this and sat this discussion out, just listening. Yeah, Joe had gotten more drunk in the last two months than he did the previous year, so what?

Even in his defiance, Joe pondered his situation later that night, lying in bad. If these guys think he's drinking too much... what the fuck? He never made an ass of himself, not that he remembered, and he was not a mean drunk. On the contrary, Joe was a happy drunk. He loved everyone in the room. That was the effect he was seeking, a happy buzz to make him forget the shitshow between his ears.

He was not happy about this intervention. It was bullshit coming from these guys, but it did cause him to consider that he might actually be on the road to ruin. He remembered wise words spoken by Dr. Nichols, 'Sometimes we have to wander on the wrong path before we realize it's not the path we wish to be on.'

---- SUMMER BREAK ----

With Joe's sisters out of school and Claire without a dorm, finding a place and privacy was a challenge. Joe sprung for a room at the Biltmore Hotel downtown, the best hotel in Providence. They checked in at 3 PM and planned to abuse that room right up to checkout time. Room service would make a few trips to room 717.

"They have porn!" Claire laughed while looking through the list of amenities. "Do you like porn?"

"The Biltmore has porn?" Joe walked over. "No way? This is a classy joint." He looked over Claire's shoulder at the hotel guide on the desk. "Holy shit, this is no better than no-tell-motel on Route 6."

"What's that?"

"A no-tell-motel? A place where no one asks questions,"

"You never answered my question. Do you like porn?"

"It's alright," Joe said while pushing his jeans off. "I can't claim to have seen a lot. We snuck into the Columbus Theater a couple of times. That place is nasty. Your feet stick to the floor, and it's not because of spilled soda."

Claire made a face. "What did you think of the porn?"

"It's kinda dumb. I mean, the sex is cool, but the films themselves are shit."

"They're not trying to win an Oscar."

"Maybe they should. Just make one serious film into a porno that's worth watching. I want to care about the characters."

"You're a strange guy."

"That's all I care about in a story, make me care about the characters, one way or the other. You must feel for them on some level. If they did that in a porn flick, the sex scenes would be better."

"What's the second thing you need in a story, action, danger?"

"That's fine, but I think the protagonist has to be put through some shit. I want to see if he has the balls and brains to go through fire. It doesn't have to be physically dangerous. It could be psychological."

"Do you have to like the protagonist?"

"I think they should be conflicted in some way, a decent guy with some bad traits, he makes mistakes that fuck him, and he has to fight through it. A little action is good, but I want good characters in moral dilemmas. It doesn't have to be life or death."

"So you like suspense thrillers."

"Yeah, and old-school detective stuff, like Sam Spade. I love Bogart."

"Why are we not in bed yet? Claire asked.

"You're the one playing twenty questions. I'm just answering."

Claire went to kiss him but Joe grabbed her first, turned her sideways, and forced her down to the bed. They were face-to-face. He pulled held her down and pulled her dress up. "You wore this dress for me, didn't you?" He smiled.

"Yeah, I did. I know you like it."

"Yes I do, and I'll get to taste you so much sooner."

Joe kissed her and then slipped under her dress. And this is where their fun night at The Biltmore was edited clean to slip the chapter past the non-erotic police. They did a lot of fun stuff. She got hers. He got his. They lay on the bed afterward, looking at the ceiling, their breathing just getting back to normal.

"I'm gonna miss this over the summer," Joe said.

Claire didn't respond for a moment. She exhaled. "Okay. You've never said anything about our summer break, my camp job, and... you know." She turned her head sideways to see him. "Are you okay with that? I have a hard time reading you, Joe. I need to know that you're okay with taking a break."

Joe rolled to his side to look at Claire. "What's there to say about it? That's our deal. Am I complaining? Of course, we're okay. Didn't we just have some fun?"

"Sex is one thing, and yes, we're better than okay there." She touched a finger to his chest. "I'm talking about inside here?"

Joe took her hand on his chest. "I try to not complicate us with that?"

"If I didn't have this summer job..." Claire paused. "... well, and my trip to France, would you feel different?"

"What's the point of thinking like that? You're going away. It is what it is."

"You never think about that?"

"Of course, I have... at times."

"And?"

"Nothing. You're going away and we have a deal."

"I think about it," She touched his face. "And I don't think you could do it with your girls on the road."

"Do what?"

Claire half-rolled her eyes. "Have just one girlfriend."

Joe exhaled, "Someday I will have just one."

"Could you just change your life, with all these girls around you?"

"I'm sure I will because that's what I want."

There was a long silence. Joe was on his side facing her. Claire was still facing the ceiling, thinking.

"You don't believe me," Joe said softly. "do you?"

"Oh, I believe you," she said. "because you always say what you want, and what you're gonna do... and then you do it. So, I believe that you believe you can be that guy."

"But you don't believe I can."

"I didn't say that. I don't know if you can, but I trust that's what you want."

"I do want that and I would make it work."

Claire rolled to face him. "I'm trying to keep this thing we have simple. I don't want to be at camp this summer and then in France feeling like..." she struggled to find the words.

Joe offered her some. "You're not free to do what you want."

"Yes, exactly. And I honestly don't think I would ever cheat, but I don't want to put myself in a position to worry about that."

"Claire, you don't have to explain. I get it."

"That doesn't mean I don't think about what could be."

"Me too, and I let pragmatism win that debate."

They lay quietly for a moment, then Joe popped up. "Let's get some food. Believe it or not, the fancy joint has the best mushroom and Swiss cheeseburgers."

"Have you ordered room service here before?"

"No, I've dined in the lobby restaurant a few times. My grandparents took me here for my birthday, twice. My Pepere loved this place. It was his idea of classy for special occasions. I've come alone since, also twice."

"Is he gone?"

"Yeah. He died when was thirteen. He was great. Pepere was funny, the best gardener, huge tomatoes, and he could fix anything mechanical or electrical. I miss him."

Claire reached over for the room service menu. She fluffed her pillow and sat against the headboard. Joe looked in from the side.

"Twelve dollars for a cheeseburger?" Claire looked at Joe. "That's crazy."

"It's the best twelve-dollar burger in town, and it comes on a buttery bun and steak fries."

"It's probably the only twelve-dollar burger in town."

"This night is on me. Don't worry about the price. Let's order martinis too."

"Okay then. I think I'll get the eighteen-dollar mac & cheese." Claire smirked. "It's probably the best eighteen-dollar mac & cheese in town."

"I bet it is."

"You place the order," she kissed him. "I'm taking advantage of that huge shower. You can join me if you'd like." She looked back and smiled. "This is the best hotel room I've stayed in."