This Is Me and You Until We've Got Nothing Left

Returning to Chicago put me back into my old routine. I would clean up, take care of Lewy, stay with my folks every other day, and I would hang out with my friends. I would talk to Pete everyday, when he had time, but I would usually let Pete talk to Lewy, because I thought it would be better if Lewy got to hear Pete than Pete and myself talk.

Pete was working hard on the new album, he was excited and happy, and I missed him. This new album meant he would be gone on tour a lot, again, and I wasn't sure when I'd see him. I was happy for him though, he and the guys, no matter what.

The week before I would start teaching, I went in for a faculty meeting, and to get the keys to my new classroom. It was funny how fast I had gotten this job, how quickly I finished school. I was taking over for Ms. Ronson, who was retiring, she was going to help me through the first week and then she would be gone. Nervous couldn't explain what I felt once I was in that classroom. It was a shock that I would already be teaching.

"The kids are really well behaved," Lita Ronson showed me around the room after the meeting, "It's when they get to 4th grade that the attitude comes in."

There would be 20 kids in the class, we would be pairing them up, having them decorate name cards to tape to the top of their desks. Lita would sit at a computer desk, looking things over, showing me the ropes. I hoped that I could do it on my own, or even with her holding my hand. I knew I could do it on my own, though. I had to make that known in my head.


Sunday, the night before the first day of school, Pete called. After answering, he didn't sound all that up to talk, "You okay?"

He was silent for a few seconds before he answered, "You know me, Navy, I'm in one of my moods."

"Why, did something happen?"

"The label got pissed because we haven't decided on a single yet and I got pissed, you know, and I went off on the dude they sent to tell us to hurry and pick a single."

"I thought that, uh, Thanks For The Memories was going to be a single."

"Patrick doesn't like the final touch of it, so he's remixing it, so they took another song we barely finished. Patrick is all pissed, I'm pissed--" he paused, "I'm all fuckin' frustrated. Sorry. Just talk to me, I need to relax tonight."

"Have a drink or somethin'," I suggested, "Is Andy there?"

"Nah, he met with friends of his. I'm by myself."

"I wish I was there so you could vent."

He sighed, "I already vented, I'm just fuckin' bored and pissed off. Where's Lew?"

"Asleep. I gave him a bath and got his stuff ready tomorrow, since I'll be working and he'll be with your dad."

Pete chuckled, "I almost forgot. Please tell me you're not gonna wear some weird cardigan and glasses."

"I don't wear glasses, Pete, and I'll be wearing whatever I want as long as it's appropriate."

He just laughed, "Punk rock teacher?"

"No."

"I don't know how else you dress. You practically live in my Lifetime t-shirt."

"It's because it's really comfy and it fits. I already bought some clothes for my job...plain blouses, ya'know, jeans."

"That sounds boring."

I scoffed, "Well, I don't wanna ruffle any feathers here."

"Ruffle any feathers...you're starting to talk like my mom," he said disdainfully.

"She's rubbing off on me."

He let out a sigh, "I miss you."

"Aww, I miss you, too, Peter. Maybe you should go to sleep or something."

"You tryin' get rid of me?"

"No, but it is 11, I've gotta get up at 6:45."

"Goddamn, that early?" He exclaimed.

"Yep."

"Should've told me sooner."

"I wanted to talk to you before I fell asleep," I told him.

Pete was quiet for a long time.

"Pete, are you there?"

"Yeah," he replied quietly. "Can I ask you somethin', babe?"

"Sure."

"What if I left everything here and got on the next plane to O'Hare?"

I frowned, "You couldn't do that to the band."

Again, it took a more than 30 seconds for him to respond. "I think I'm going crazy again."

"You think or you know?" My voice was soft, I was trying not to sound alarmed.

"I don't know. What's the difference?"

"The difference is you're just having a bad day like you haven't had in a while, and you know is when you know that this is not one of your bad days...that this is like..." I trailed, not finishing, "Tell me."

"I think it's just a bad day," he mumbled, "But it's a series of them...it's a snowball like effect, Naomi."

"Do you need to come home?"

"I want to," he practically whispered.

"Want or need?"

"I don't know, Navy," he spat, "There's a difference? I want to come home, I want to be home, I want to be with you and Lewis."

I sighed deeply and leaned against the cushions of my couch, "I'm sorry, Pete."

He swallowed thickly, "You sound like my mom when she sent me to bootcamp and I would beg her to come and get me...all she would say was 'I'm sorry, Pete, but this is for your own good.'"

"You're 27 years old, you can do what you want, but wanting and needing are 2 different things, Pete. This is your band, they need you to help finish this record, but you want to come home. Which is really fair?"

Silence again.

"You're right," he said, "You're right, Naomi."

"I just don't want you to come home and regret it."

"Okay," he murmured.

"Are you staying or coming home?"

"I'm gonna stay. If it gets worse, I'll come home."

"You know I'll be here for you."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," he said softly, "Thanks, Navy."

"You're welcome, Pete."

"Good luck tomorrow...break a leg."

I laughed, "I love you."

"Love you, too. 'Night."

"Goodnight."

I hung up with Pete, looked at my cell and sighed. I felt bad for him, I knew that not being on drugs was killing him. He had his up and down moments, and right now he was having a down moment. I wasn't sure how long he had been off drugs, but I knew it was longer than 8 months. I couldn't imagine how caged he felt, how much he wanted his anxiety to vanish.

I called him, listening to the phone ring twice before he answered, "What's wrong?"

"Will you be okay?" I asked him.

"Yeah, I think so."

"You promise?"

"Yes, why?"

I coursed my hair, "You're 27, Pete," I shook my head about the thought, "I don't want you to end up like the next Kurt Cobain or Jimi Hendrix."

Pete let out a laugh, "Are you serious?"

"Pete," he grumbled, "Don't laugh, I am serious, dammit. I don't want you to die, and I don't want you to be...upset or wanting to do anything crazy."

"I'm not, I swear. I'm gonna have a drink, surf the net...maybe watch some porn," I laughed, "I dunno. I'm not going to do anything crazy or stupid, okay?"

"Promise?"

"Promise."

"Okay. I love you, you know, I just get worried."

"I'm fine," he said, "At least, I'll try and be fine. I think I'm homesick...I miss you."

"I miss you, too."

"You wanna talk 'till you fall asleep?"

I hummed softly, "Yeah, sure."


The worst part of the morning was leaving Lewy with Mr. Wentz. I didn't want to leave him, he looked so cute snuggled in his little jacket and hat. I kissed his forehead, wiping the lipstick away and then said goodbye to him and Mr. Wentz.

When I got to Harper Elementary, I was more worried that Lewy would miss me, rather than meeting these new little kids. I thought about Pete too; I called him before I entered the classroom and left him a message. As I walked in, I shut my phone off and put it in the bottom of my bag.

Lita smiled at me, "I've got the roll here for you and some coffee."

I exhaled, "Thanks. Do I look okay? I was so worried about leaving my son with his grandpa that I don't even really remember getting dressed."

"You look fine," Lita replied, "Sit."

I sat at the large black desk in front of me. It wasn't the rich brown oak one I had seen the Thursday before. Sitting, I didn't question it at all, I took a sip of the coffee and looked at the digital clock on the desk, near the desk calendar; it was going to be 8:30 in a minute. Still, I wasn't nervous, I only thought about Lewis and Pete. I hoped they were alright.

Before I knew it, Lita had led in a crowd of kids. They all chatted and giggled, joking. My heart raced now, I stood, looking at these little people I would be responsible for. They were a fast walking and fast talking version of Lewy that I would see from Monday to Friday, from 8:30 AM to 2:45 PM. I really hoped I could do this.

As they all took seats, Lita began helping me introduce myself, take roll, and then pair them up by last name. They were mature enough not to whine about sitting next to the opposite gender when they had to. They were very well behaved and nice; really, it was like having a room full of little Patrick Stumps.

After they were settled, one little boy raised his hand and asked me to spell my name on the whiteboard. I had nodded, "Sure. It's Na--" I stopped myself as I popped open the cap on the red erasable marker, "Miss Valentino...V-A-L-E-N-T-I-N-O, or you can call me Ms. V, that's easier."

The kids liked calling me Ms. V instead, which I didn't mind at all. I felt more comfortable once I had gotten that out the way. We started up with the name tags and then the kids introduced themselves to me. They were all so cute, funny and smart, I couldn't help but to be intrigued and a little in awe of them. I tried not to drift of day dreaming, wondering how Lewy would be when he would be able to converse, add, subtract and tell funny little jokes.

Once the day was over, I was surprised by how fast it had gone by. I barely noticed the lunch and recess breaks. Though, I was extremely excited to get home and see Lewis when I heard the dismissal bell.

"How'd you like it?" Lita asked me.

"It was fun," I answered happily, "They're a lot more patient than I anticipated."

"Kids surprise ya," she said with a small laugh. "See you tomorrow, Naomi."

"See ya."

Lita grabbed her things and left; I cleared up my desk, grabbed my own things and followed out the door.