Page 69 of For Eva

I don’t even know what to say about what’s happening with me because I’m so excited for you! The job’s fine. Might go to the grocery store later, then get a drink afterward with a friend if I’m feeling crazy. :) But hey, I said I wanted normal, right?

It’s still cold here, and I’m so ready for warm weather. Maybe I should think about coming out to visit soon. I’ll call Denise and see what we can figure out. Just promise me if I do I’ll get to hear these songs live. Because they’re amazing…and I really fucking mean that.

So yeah, while I’m waiting for the sun to come out and the flowers to bloom, talk to me about what it’s like to see a ball of light in the sky every day. And palm trees. I miss them. Especially those really tall ones on Sunset. I sound like such a tourist, I know, but they never ceased to amaze me.

Write or call me soon!

Eva

April 30, 1990

Eva,

I just left a message on your machine, but I’m writing anyway because I’m so fucking excited I can’t stand it. They offered me a deal. The label actually offered me a solo deal. I can’t believe they wanna take another chance on me after everything that happened. I dunno if Mandy or Keith somehow talked them into it, or if the songs are really that good or what, but holy shit! This is happening! I’m going down there to sign all the papers tomorrow.

Eight months sober and a new record deal. I should be as happy as a fucking pig in shit…or whatever it is they say. And I am happy. Trust me, I know how lucky I am to be where I’m at right now. But I’d be a hell of a lot happier if you were here. I miss fighting over the last crab rangoon with you. I miss you yelling at me when I’m being an asshole. I miss singing every song KISS ever made and annoying the shit out of everyone else in the room. I miss…I miss your smile, Eva. You have no idea how much I miss that smile.

But I guess I’m telling you now, huh?

Love,

Eric

THIRTY-ONE

Eva

May 1990

You have no idea how much I miss that smile.

I stared at the letter, the paper shaking slightly in my hands. The black ink began to blur, and my lips parted, leaving just enough room for a tiny “huh” to escape. I placed my thumbnail between my front teeth and looked up from the letter, out the window, to the sidewalk below. A couple strolled along hand in hand, and Eric’s words kneaded at my heart as thoughts coursed through my brain.

Does that mean…What if…Does he…

No. Don’t be silly, Eva. You’re friends. Friends miss each other.

But did friends’ stomachs flutter at the thought of being missed? And did their minds take flight when they got a letter with a signature that readlove?

I blinked and shook my head, my platinum bob brushing my flushed cheeks as I folded the paper and placed it on the small dining table beside me. I was already running late. No time to overthink.

I grabbed my satchel bag, swung it over my shoulder, and plucked at my freshly cut bangs in the mirror before heading out the door and down the stairs to my old VW Rabbit parked up the street. I hopped in and immediately rolled the window down. It was a warm Saturday afternoon, and I didn’t have to think twice when one of my college girlfriends called and asked me to meet her for lunch and cocktails on the patio at one of our favorite spots.

As I made my way down Clark Street, traffic picked up, and I wondered if I should’ve taken the “L” even though driving with the windows down and tunes cranked up had sounded like a much better idea. I twisted the knob on my car stereo, bits of songs blipping from the speakers, until I settled on one of the local college stations. I turned up the volume on the Jane’s Addiction tune playing as the sun beamed in on my shoulders, covered only by the thin straps of my short flowered sundress. I reached over and dug through my bag for my cigarettes. My attempts to quit since I’d moved back to Chicago had failed repeatedly, though I promised myself one of my top New Year’s resolutions for 1991 would be to stop for good. But I had eight months left with my Marlboro Lights, and I intended to spend some quality time with them.

I pushed in the car’s lighter, singing along with the radio while I waited for it to pop. As I reached down to retrieve it, my eyes flickered from the road for a second, and before I knew what was happening, my body was thrown forward against my seat belt, and there was a loud thud. I looked directly in front of me to see I was bumper to bumper with a black BMW at a red light.

Fuck. Double fuck.

The driver raised his head to look back at me in his rearview mirror. I scrubbed my hands over my face and sighed as the light turned green, and he signaled out the window that he wasgoing to pull over to the side of the street. I parked behind him, muttering a “goddamnit,” and turned off the radio as a tall athletic figure stepped out of the BMW and surveyed the back of the car for damage. He was dressed in long gym shorts, a T-shirt, and a baseball cap.

Great. A sporty asshole in a Beamer. Just what I need.

I hung my head and opened my door, dragging myself out of the car as the owner of the luxury vehicle walked toward me. The accident was clearly my fault, so I decided to fess up.

“Shit, I’m so sorry,” I blurted out. “I was reaching down to light my cigarette, and I wasn’t paying attention. Totally my fault. Full admission of guilt.” I laughed nervously as I swept my sunglasses onto the top of my head.

All of what had to be six foot two of him stopped in front of me.

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