Part 9 (1/2)
”It was spontaneous, like most of the best things in life,” Tom says. ”Lovely hat, is it new?”
”No, just one I haven't worn for a while,” she says. Her voice toward him is cold. ”Hey, I like yours,” she says to me.
Despite everything, I'm pleased. ”It's one of Tom's,” I tell her.
”Mine blew off in the wind today.”
”Oh. Can I have a beer too?”
”Sure,” says Tom. He pulls one out for her.
Heather comes into the kitchen, followed by Aaron. It's getting crowded. ”Hey, we need refills,” Aaron says. ”Nice hat, Pris.”
”Yes,” Heather says. ”I saw one like that a couple years ago, back when it was in style.” She turns to Tom. ”Beer me.”
”Yo.”
Beers are pa.s.sed around. Tsunami Beer. I drink some of mine down and then gasp --- it's as strong as h.e.l.l. ”Jesus!” I exclaim. Then I notice everyone looks at me like I've made some sort of social blunder.
”Well, you've had a few already, eh?” Heather says.
”I'm standing in my own kitchen and I feel like I'm on an alien planet,” I tell them.
”Maybe you'll feel better in the living room,” Pris says. She smiles, thinking I was joking.
”Maybe,” I tell her. I lead the way out of the kitchen.
In the living room, Felix is putting a record on an unfamiliar stereo system --- it's definitely not the one I'm used to --- and looks over at Pris and says, ”It's time to Hubba Hubba!” A long, drawn out guitar chord wails painfully from the speakers, followed by a rapid drum beat.
”Is this the Streakers?” Pris asks.
”No, it's a new one by the Beatles,” he tells her.
”The Beatles!?” I exclaim.
”Yeah,” he says. ”Came out this week.” He throws me the alb.u.m. The t.i.tle is Brain Decay Marmalade by Pete Best and the Beatles. I sit down on the couch with Pris and read it over. I'm so absorbed and astonished that I don't even notice that Pris has her arm around me and one leg draped over mine. Even more astonis.h.i.+ng is the music itself: It's horrible!
The others join us and sit around, listening to the music. ”This is dessert,” Heather says. ”Isn't it just dessert?”
Aaron nods. ”I like it. These guys have always been fun boys.”
”They literally define Hubba Hubba,” Tom says.
The music is horrible and I can't understand anything they're saying. Even Pris is alien in the odd, Elizabethan type dress. And her hairstyle, it's changed --- it no longer falls over one eye. It's longer in back, short in front. Her smile is still the same, though, and her voice. And she's letting everyone in the room know exactly who she's with tonight. Me. That, at least, is comforting. It's the only thing I have to comfort me.
Tom is staring at me with his camera lens eyes, his gaze intent.
After the first few songs from the ”new” Beatles alb.u.m, he stands and says, ”Could you help me with something.”
I stand up. ”Okay.”
Aaron stands up, too, but Tom motions him to sit down. ”We'll get it. Excuse us for a minute.” Aaron looks concerned and suspicious, but nevertheless he sits down. Tom and I walk toward the front of the apartment, opening the front door and stepping outside. He shuts the door behind us and we stand in the hallway.
”What is going on?” he says. ”What did Alvin tell you?”
”Tom, something really odd is happening to me.”
”What? Does it have something to do with the project?”
”Indirectly, yes. Tom, I think I'm slipping between parallel worlds.”
He shakes his head. ”No, really,” he says. ”What is it. You look upset.”
I don't know what to tell him. He's not going to believe me. ”I'm totally disoriented. I'm forgetting things, like where I park my car and when my cla.s.s is supposed to start. Words aren't making sense. Things are appearing one way and then when I look again they're different, changed.”
”You think you're sick?”
”Something is wrong. I don't know if it's me or the world.”
”You told me you got up to the project building. Maybe you got exposed to some radiation or something?”
”Maybe. That was yesterday, right?”
”Yes. I think we better get you to a doctor.”
”No! I hate doctors, I know too much about biology. Listen, just stick by me, okay? I need help . . . I need help getting though this.
It's like, you know, an LSD trip. Like the one that Felix went through.”
Tom rolls his eyes. ”Which one? No, really, I know what you're talking about. I'm with you fun boy, you know that. You can depend on me.”
”Thanks Tom.”
”Hey,” he says, reaching out and grabbing my shoulders. His eyes peer into mine. ”You know. I'm with you. Okay?”
”Okay.”
”Good!” He gives me a slap on the shoulder and then turns and starts to open the door.
I stop him. ”One more thing,” I say.
”What?”
”What is 'Hubba Hubba?' Is it like a new type of Rock or something?”
”Rock?” Tom looks shocked, and concerned. ”What?”