Garage by Pearl-o
"Our problem, the thing keeping us from the top, the thing dragging us down into the mud..." Ethan lets in a dramatic pause. "Is practice space."
Thomas nods, and ponders this as he chews his sandwich.
They're sitting in the park across the street from Linton, where Thomas has his women's studies class and Ethan has British poetry. They eat lunch here every Monday and Wednesday, when they both get out at one -- or at least, they do when Ethan bothers to attend class; that's an important qualification, in this case.
Ethan's here today, but he's already finished his lunch, a Snickers bar dug somewhere from the bottom of his messenger bag. Now he's brainstorming. He's leaning against the tree, notebook against his knees, moving his pen around his mouth, stopping every once in a while to take sips of iced coffee through his straw. It's been four days since Ethan's had a cigarette.
"We *need* somewhere to rehearse," Ethan says. Thomas nods again, his mouth filled with Oreos this time. Ethan requires fairly constant affirmation. "Some place big enough for all of us, the drums and everything. Some place where we won't be bothering anybody. Some place close to campus. Some place *cheap*."
Thomas meets his cue and nods again there, but this time Ethan keeps his gaze on him as he taps the pen thoughtfully against his front teeth.
Thomas swallows. "What?"
"Hey, just. Your parents are cool, right?" Ethan says, his face widening into a sharp, predatory smile.
"Heh," says Thomas, and he takes another handful of Fritos.
He's there with Ethan the whole time, but Thomas still isn't sure how he manages it.
It's not like his mom isn't an expert at saying no -- God knows she never had any trouble when Thomas was living at home. But apparently even his mom's skepticism and carefully raised eyebrows are no match for Charming Ethan when he's all the way on.
He leans against the wall while Ethan walks around the garage, looking over the wall eagerly, measuring the length and width of the space, kicking at the floor occasionally. Finally, he stops in the middle and slowly says, "Yeah. It'll do."
Thomas says, "Awesome."
His mom has set rules, at least, which is comforting; Ethan hasn't completely zombified her. No smoking indoors; no coming into the main house; keep the place neat; everybody gone by midnight.
"We can gather up Clark and Astrid tonight, move in tomorrow and start practicing." Ethan moves towards Thomas and punches his shoulder playfully. "This is it, man! We're going places!" He looks around the room again. "People are going to come to this place in ten years, twenty years and go 'That's where it all started.'"
Thomas is having a little bit more trouble seeing the mystique, here in the place where his parents used to store his boxes of old report cards and broken furniture. But Ethan's practically vibrating with excitement, totally there, and Thomas grins to himself and nods and goes along with him again.
05/02/03