Chapter 3
Jerry visited Adam at Bard College. He had graduated in his junior year.
Saturday night, they trolled the local bar. Beers in hand – a new experience for Jerry – they wandered about as a rock band spun out covers, danced with co-eds, found a table, went through a pitcher – mostly Adam – and yakked it up. Jerry noticed Adam’s gestures with his cigarette become increasingly flamboyant.
On their way back to the dorm, Jerry careened his parents’ Chevrolet Caprice around the trees that lined the college driveway entrance. They gasped for air laughing as the tires tore up the grass. Back at the dorm, they pulled themselves up the emergency fire exit ladder and jumped onto the roof.
“Do it,” commanded Adam.
“Do what?”
“Jump.”
The wind wrapped tendrils of temptation around Jerry’s neck as he leaned over the edge. “Say what?” He peered down past the dormitory’s four stories to the frozen ground below.
Adam pushed him from behind then pulled him back.
“What the fuck, Adam! That’s not funny.”
“I’m not trying to be funny.”
“You’re scaring me.”
Adam seized the back of Jerry’s coat, pushing him again towards the edge.
“Let go of me,” said Jerry.
Adam’s grip tightened.
“Adam, let go of me,” Jerry repeated slowly. His heart drummed in his ears.
Adam erupted in laughter. “Psych!!! I so had you,” he said as he released Jerry.
Adam flopped down on the edge of the building, his legs dangled recklessly over the side. He put his arms behind him and leaned back.
“Do you know what grace notes are?” asked Adam.
“Uh, no…yes, they’re those little notes on sheet music that you play real quick.”
“A grace note is a music notation used to denote several kinds of musical ornaments. It is usually printed smaller to indicate that it is melodically and harmonically nonessential.”
He took a long drag on his cigarette and audibly exhaled.
“Most people are grace notes, you know, me, you,” Adam said. He flicked his cigarette down to the ground below. A faint hiss drifted back up. “Do you remember when we were at that basketball camp and you asked me why everyone was trying so hard to get a ball into a hoop?”
“No, but ok.”
“Well, I finally get your question. I mean really, what is the point?”
“You never looked like you had to try too hard.”
“I try fucking hard. And I’m running out of gas. This college is hard, Jerry. I never knew. This is no high school. And for what? Why am I trying so hard?”
“I don’t know.”
“Who’s duping me into this?”
“God?”
“You think there’s a God?”
“Yes,” he said, surprising himself.
“You’re an idiot.”
“Look, I believe there’s something worth trying hard for. All these millions of people that have come before us can’t all be wrong. Look at all the art, the music, the cathedrals. They did it because they believed in God. That’s what I want, Adam. Yes, I think there’s a God. I just don’t believe in Him, yet.”
“Good luck.”
“It’s better than the alternative,” Jerry said as he glanced down below.
Adam sprinted to the nearby chimney. He bellowed down its throat, “Attention all students: Step away from your typewriters and no one will get hurt.” He leaned back against the chimney and slid down. Jerry joined him.
Adam handed him a cherry flavored Tiparillo then lit it for him. He gagged and sputtered.
“Don’t inhale!” Adam said laughing.
They both took drags. Jerry’s tongue stung as he blew out the smoke. The future seemed so bleak. Maybe he wouldn’t even go to college.
“Hey,” Adam said with a clear-eyed smile. “Thanks for coming up here.”
“You bet.”
“No. I mean it. That means something to me. We’re friends for life. Wherever you go, wherever I go, we’ll stay together. OK?”
“OK.”
They sat still, listening to the expansive quiet.
“Hey,” Adam said turning to Jerry.
“Hey,” Jerry returned and locked eyes with Adam’s.
They tapped their Tiparillos together, and a spray of sparks flew into the air like fireworks.