I've Loved These Days: A Billy Joel Fanfic

Chapter 7 - Captain Jack

••••
So you play your albums
And you smoke your pot
And you meet your girlfriend
In the parking lot
Oh but still you're aching
For the things you haven't got
What went wrong
••••

Tuesday, April 20, 1971
Dear Diary,

I've been in Philly for a week now. I'm still a mess, but I'm starting to feel like I can breathe again. I've been staying on Cynthia's couch so far, but Martha's roommate is going out of town next week so I'll be staying there while she's gone.

Things here aren't exactly what I was expecting. I thought it would be more like when I lived here - lots of friends, lots of partying and dancing and stuff - but so many people have gone away for college. Cynthia and Martha are my only close friends who still live here anymore, and Cyn is taking classes at Temple, and Martha is working as a receptionist in a dentist office, so I'm kind of on my own during the day.

That's when things get tough because my mind always goes back to Bill. I'll start to miss him, start wondering what he's doing, what he's thinking... and then I'm reminded why I had to get away from him, and the tears start to fall again.

xoxo,
Kat

****

The smoke hung low in the air under the dim lights. It was just after 10PM on my first Friday back in Philly, and we were settling down at a table in our favorite bar. Cynthia and Martha had been absolute lifesavers all week, offering shoulders to cry on and ears to listen as I continued to process my feelings about what Billy had done.

Martha leaned in to be heard over the music. "What did your parents say about it all?"

"I didn't actually tell them all the details, just that we broke up. My dad already hated Bill... I just couldn't bring myself to let him think he was right about him. Part of me wonders—"

"Hey, hey! Look what the cat dragged in."

I looked up at the familiar male voice and laughed. "Holy shit... Well, same to you!"

Bobby plopped down in the empty chair across from me. He looked exactly the same as the last time I had seen him - a typical hippie with wavy blonde hair past his shoulders and a marijuana haze that seemed to travel everywhere with him.

"Seriously though, how ya been? It's been what? Six? Nine months since you left?"

"I'm surprised you kept track."

"Hey man, I'm a lot of things, but I'm not a heartless asshole."

I laughed. "No, I'm pretty sure 'lying asshole' is the term I've used to describe you."

Bobby placed a hand over his heart in a show of false shock. "Ooh, the truth hurts." He took a swig of beer. "So, how long ya here for?"

"I don't know," I shrugged. "Until I decide to leave, I guess."

"You got a place?"

"I'm crashing on couches for the time being."

"Well shit, I got a couch with your name on it if you need. Just hit me up."

I let out another laugh. The idea that Bobby had a consistent place to stay, let alone a couch to offer, was surprising. He had always been a roamer. His parents had kicked him out at 16, just before I first met him. The entire time I'd known him he had gotten by on favors and well intentioned promises that he usually ended up breaking.