Eddie wasn’t a scumbag type of musician. In spite of what I said earlier, there are some really classy musicians out there. They’re swimming in a cesspool of low-lifes, but classy musicians do exist in the rock-n-roll world. Eddie was one of them. He was one of those guys who was so funny, he didn’t have to do or say anything to make you laugh. We played in a band together for a short while, he was an extremely talented musician and one of the humblest and kindest guys I’ve ever known. So when I found the address and walked around back to the garage, (a shack really), I was a bit nervous and my mind was buzzing with curiosity.
I knocked and Eddie opened the door. * gasp * Wow, Nate was right. I could have passed him on the street and wouldn’t have recognized him at all. However, Eddie’s smile could still light up lower Manhattan -- he was completely tickled to see me. He wouldn’t have recognized me either – I had a close-cropped military haircut instead of the long black mop of 80s rockstar curls he had last seen me in.
His place consisted of a card table with two lawn chairs, a cot, and several cardboard boxes masquerading as pantry, dresser, bookshelf and china cabinet. He also had an elderly dog who was happy to see me. He apparently needed a couple fresher legs around. How embarrassing! He was even skinnier than Eddie. Well Eddie invited me in and we made small talk for a minute or so. He really was unrecognizable; he looked like those old pictures of concentration camp survivors. He was gaunt and pale instead of chubby and lively and my concern must have been obvious on my face. He addressed all my unspoken questions. Yes indeed, all that Nate had said was true. Nevertheless, there was still a side of me that was in total denial – how could this happen to Eddie, of all people? Tracy had ruined him. It would have been more merciful for her to have shot him than to reduce him to a withered shell like this.
Well, I told you earlier that Eddie was one of the humblest guys I’ve ever known. Just wait.
J.P.T.
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