One thing about Blanche, he’s the self-sufficient type. As he puts it, he doesn’t do ‘needy’. Within a short time of our pizza party, he calls me to announce that he’s moved out of Peter’s house.
Me: “Well, I definitely saw THAT coming…”
Blanche: “Oh, PLEASE Blanche - I mean, I appreciate everything he did but when all is said and done, I am TOO THRU with Little Miss CLING-WRAP.”
I laugh: “He was sure nuts about YOU, tho’…”
Blanche: “Hmmm. Well, he was never MY type. Anyway, I think he just liked the IDEA of someone like me. An EXOTIC.”
Me: “Well, you are at that…”
Blanche: “WhatEVAH, BLANCHE.” Then his voice gets serious: “He sealed it when he started using again. First he started drinking his beers ‘once in awhile’. THEN he starts staying out late – which I preferred, mind you – but when he came home, he was coked-up. And then - DENYING it??? Nuh-uh. Sorry. I can’t and I WON’T.”
So now Blanche is crashing at his cousin’s place in Jamaica, Queens. His cousin is also in recovery for substance abuse. I visit every other week or so and we mainline coffee together and watch cable. There’s always an interesting cast of characters stopping by. They’re all in recovery and they all call me Blanche. Somehow with these guys, I don’t mind at all.
And life goes on. Blanche is all about recovery now, and attending his meetings. He goes to lots of meetings and has such an incredible array of friends in his life that it’s impossible to keep track of who he’s talking about half the time. He’s got something else, too – his Spirituality. His Higher Power. Which I guess is all tied up in his recovery, altho’ he’s always been a spiritually DEEP kinda guy. Always spouting that Blanchian Wisdom and shit. Not that I don’t love it. Me and Blanche can discuss spiritual matters for hours on end if you let us. He’s practically the only person I know who I can comfortably do so with. The job where we first met was called R+R, so now we joke with each other that Blanche attends a NEW version of R+R: Recovery and Religion.
Blanche eventually gets his own little apartment. After a lunch date, he brings me over to see it. The place is tiny, but it’s all he needs and he has it tricked-out really nice. The centerpiece is his Santeria Altar. He’s been trying to educate me, but I don’t know very much about this religion. I have to say, tho’, that the altar is gorgeously elaborate. He has put much love and care into making it so. Hiram has his Faith, as well he should – it has taken him pretty far.
My memory of the next couple of years are a montage of Blanchian events:
…Blanche receiving his 1-year sobriety pin and inviting me, Chris, and our dear mutual friends from workdays past, Teresa (Weezah) and Nikki (of the famous Tits) to come to the ceremony in Brooklyn. He is so proud and so obviously beloved among his peers.
…Taking Blanche out to dinner at JOE’s, our favorite Italian joint in Queens, for his birthday. People around us can’t help but become engaged and laugh along with us – he is so high-energy and thoroughly enjoying himself. As we sing Happy Birthday he starts getting emotional and I yell: “DON’T YOU DARE, BLANCHE~!! DON’T YOU DARE!” He cries anyway, of course.
…Blanche showing up at one of my gigs. Just before I’m set to go on stage, I catch him arriving - emerging from a cab on Avenue C, accompanied by one of his pretty Latino home-girls from recovery. He is sporting a small moustache, his gorgeous hair has fully grown back and he’s wearing it LONG. He is filling out his jeans nicely and he does a runway-walk up to the stage to hug the living crap out of me, nearly electrocuting us both with my guitar chord, but who cares…
…Blanche receiving his 2-year sobriety pin. The word ‘Proud’ does not describe him this time. He is positively, radiantly rapturous.
Then a 3 or 4 month period of time passes by and we drift apart a little. Hey, it happens to the best of us. I’m just super-busy with my band and a new stupid office job, and Blanche’s social calendar is off the hook. In between meetings, he juggles countless friends’ obligations plus he is now SPEAKING at meetings, giving motivational lectures to his brothers and sisters in recovery. I’m very proud of him, and every day we mean to call one another but somehow we keep letting it slide.
So one evening, me and Chris have a band rehearsal in our apartment. Just us and our drummer who brings a small kit over. (Yeah, the neighbors LOVED us in THAT building…) Anyhow, the drummer is coming over fresh from a little gig he just did in Brooklyn. He’s moonlighting for this female R&B singer. After our rehearsal, he goes: “Hey, wanna hear a tape of my gig tonite with this R&B broad?” Sure, pop it in…
Two minutes into this tape that we’re listening to, I hear BLANCHE’s raucous laughter and obnoxious jokes in the background. I stare at my stereo in shock.
The drummer sez: “Oh, yeah – there were a couple of gay dudes there, really tearing it up. They got pretty loud…”
Chris looks at me and I look at him and we both yell: “HIRAM!” My drummer is like – huh?
I grab the telephone, dial Blanche’s number. He answers, sounding tired.
Me: “Blanche.”
Blanche: “Blanche!”
Me: “Listen to me. What the fuck were you doing cheating on me at some other bitches’ gig TONITE?”
He is silent for just a second. Then he goes: “How the hell did you know that. Were you THERE????”
I tell him about the ‘coincidence’ of my drummer having taped the show, etc. We are in hysterics.
Blanche: “WELL, GURL…that JUST GOES TO SHOW YOU…there ARE no ‘coincidences’! THE GODS are saying – “OKAY - If those two idiots can’t manage to STAY IN TOUCH, I guess we have to take matters into our OWN HANDS!”
To Be Continued….
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