#beetlejam

December 31, 2022

Manhattan, NY

That morning I returned from my short trip to Connecticut. I had spent Christmas at my parents’ house, as was customary; one that, year after year, made me wish more and more that December could just be erased from the calendar.

For Delia, it’s far too important (and non-negotiable) that we celebrate in Connecticut. Wouldn’t it be easier to gather in New York? We’re all from here, both the rest of the family and her colleagues. Of course, leaving the Big Apple and spending a few days in the countryside must be appealing to some.

Not to me. I hate breaking my routine, changes of plans, endless trips, and spending hours barely exchanging words or glances with people who have nothing to do with me. It’s a pain in the ass.

But that time in particular, I had taken it better because I knew that on the way back I’d be spending New Year’s with Vick: a night of vodka, “scented smoke”, and a John Waters special starring Divine, just the two of us.

The joy didn’t last long. I remember setting foot in the apartment and hearing Vick from the other room…

“-Say, wanna go to a bar instead? A friend texted me saying a DJ is going to spin post-punk all night and there’ll be drink specials.”

Did I mention I hate changes of plans?

But how could I say no to her? A couple of weeks earlier, my dear Vick -may the Universe bless her soul- had returned home after yet another hospital stay. Who was I to deny her anything at all?

I tried to hide my displeasure, something I’ve never been good at. My face is like an open book, one by Pizarnik.

Yeah, I learned a thing or two about Latin American authors around that time…

We arrived a couple of hours before midnight. It was to be expected that the place would get packed, and if we even wanted a chance of making it through the crowd to the bar, we had to land right after they opened the doors.

Just thinking about the place filling up made me wish the bus that brought me back had derailed and plunged off a cliff.

“-You’re an angel, I know you hate being here.”

“-No, no, I’m fine, just a bit tired from the trip.”

"Yeah, I hate it here."

“-I know you, Lyds. But I swear I had a good reason to come. Remember that friend I told you about? Turns out we used to be super close a few years ago, but he got completely absorbed in his studies, then he traveled, then he came back and kept studying, and all that time we barely got to see each other. He’ll be here tonight, with some classmates from his uni. I really wanted to see him.”

“-It’s okay, Vick. Just make sure to keep me drunk to the brink of intoxication and I’ll be fine.”

We smoked a couple of cigarettes, until I saw her turn toward the door with excitement. Three guys were walking in our direction, but Vick moved forward to meet them halfway across the room. She greeted two of them normally, but gave the third one a hug. I didn’t even know she’d ever had a friend that important. Where did he come from?

I gave them time to say hello. I took the chance to finish my cigarette, my gaze fixed on a floor tile that looked like it was about to crack. I didn’t look up until they were just a few steps away from me.

“-Lydia, this is Richard.”

“-Hey.”

…Oh…

“-Hi.”

One first glance, and suddenly I couldn’t focus my eyes on his. I tried to look at him, but my body simply refused. It was as if it wasn’t capable of processing the human being standing in front of me. I could focus on his friends just fine, as well as on Vick and anyone coming in and out through the door.

He didn’t talk much, but when he did, I wanted to look at him, just because that’s what you do when someone speaks, right?

“Jesus, Lydia Deetz, just look him in the face! What are you, 12 years old?”

Impossible. Trying to find his eyes felt completely beyond my reach, physically or cognitively.

After a while, Vick ran into another acquaintance, and I chose to stay by her side. We ended up drifting a bit away from the guys; nothing unusual at a party like that, where you keep moving around and running into people all the time.

I finally managed to relax a little, though I felt ridiculous. What the hell was that? From under what rock did this person crawl out?

Now that there was a cluster of people between us (and with a couple of mojitos in my system), I was able to turn and look at him. In a complete 180, now it seemed I couldn’t take my eyes off him…

“He looks like he just walked out of a club from Berlin… Is this ‘79 New Year’s Eve?… That 'Twilight haircut', how much hairspray does he go through in a week?... I don’t think I’ve ever seen a gaze so full of-”

“FUCK”

“That was so embarrassing…”

When there were about thirty minutes left until midnight, I decided to go out alone to the bar's patio to smoke. They allowed smoking inside the building, but what I needed was my own square meter of air poisoned with tobacco.

I had reached a point where I didn’t even feel the cold anymore. I stood near a pole almost at the end of the patio, like any good emo of my generation.

I almost choked on my cigarette when, after a few minutes, I saw Richard walk out the door, and yeah… he was heading straight toward where I was.

“Look him in the eyes, look him in the eyes, look him in the eyes, look him in the eyes…”

“-Hi.”

“-Hi.”

“-So… Lydia… Vick’s roommate?”

“-Yeah… You smoke?”

“-Not tobacco. Weed sometimes.”

“-Good choice. Vick told me you’re just passing through?”

“-Yeah, in a few months I’ll be moving to Ecuador.”

“-Ecuador, wow. You have family there?”

“-No, it’s for an internship. I’m about to graduate in Environmental Sciences, and I made some connections to do my placement in a reserve in the Ecuadorian Amazon.”

“-Hey, that sounds great.”

“-Yeah… It’s honestly something I’ve always known I wanted to do. Maybe it’s a bit silly, but… I still like to believe the world can be a better place… Or at least I’d like not to leave it worse than when I arrived, you know?”

“-I don’t think that’s silly. I think things could improve if we all thought that way.”

“-I’m glad you think so. Sometimes I’m afraid to say things like that and have people think I’m some pedantic vegetarian.”

“-Are you a pedantic vegetarian?”

“-I try not to be pedantic.”

For the first time that night, I let out a laugh. Richard was genuine, and being around him was really pleasant. Once he started talking, my nerves began to fade, and instead I found myself keeping up the conversation as if we’d known each other our whole lives.

I learned that he was born here, that his mom was from Venezuela and his dad from Chile. He told me they had separated a few years ago, and that during the pandemic he went to live with his dad in Chilean Patagonia.

I also learned that because of the pandemic his studies had been delayed almost two years, and that made him even more excited to finally finish his degree.

There was something about the way he spoke… He had that quality of people who still have faith in the world, those who believe it’s worth saving because of all the good in it.

He almost made me want to quit smoking.

We talked so much that, without realizing it, midnight struck and the noise erupted. There was no way to get back inside. We’d have to wait for things to calm down a bit before rejoining the others.

I’m not complaining. There was no rush…

“-Happy New Year, Lydia.”

“-Happy New Year, Richard.”

We ended up toasting with his water bottle, one sip each. I didn’t mind that at all…

We kept chatting about all sorts of things until we finally managed to get in touch with the others and meet back inside. Not long after, Ric drove us home.

At another time, I would’ve been annoyed by the ringing in my ears from the noise. But that night, and against all odds, I was in a pretty good mood.

Vick noticed, of course.

“-Looks like you didn’t have such a bad time after all…”

“Shut up…”

About a week later, Ric invited Vick and me over to his place to watch a movie. What a nice gesture, including me in his plan to “reconnect with an old friend…”

The place had a strong smell of wood. It wasn’t unpleasant at all, but the contrast was striking, like a piece of forest in the middle of the concrete jungle.

We were going to watch the movie in his room, where he had a TV. At one point, Vick went to the kitchen to heat up some pizzas, and while Ric looked for what we’d watch, I just looked around.

On a small piece of furniture there was a collection of vinyl records, mostly from several decades ago. Despite their age, you could tell how carefully they had been preserved.

I moved closer to take a better look. I didn’t dare flip through them with my hands, but the ones I could see had names in Spanish.

“-Here, let me show you.”

As soon as he noticed my interest in the records, he pulled several off the shelf and, with care, but also with an enthusiasm that lit up his eyes, began showing them to me one by one.

“-This… is Latam post-punk.”

He started with the covers, then the vinyls themselves, giving a brief summary of each.

“-‘Los Prisioneros’ are from Chile, just like my dad’s family. They’re his favorites…”

He continued, moving from one vinyl to the next.

“-Personally, I really like these, ‘Virus’. This album is absolutely amazing.”

He showed me the cover of the album “Locura” and, without a second thought, placed it directly on the turntable…

Recordando tu expresión Vuelvo a desear Esas noches de calor Llenas de ansiedad

“Alright, you’ve convinced me. I really like how this sounds. It’s a shame I don’t understand a damn thing he’s saying. Doesn’t matter, I’ll look it up later.”

Vick walked into the room with the pizzas already warm. We waited for the song to finish before stopping the turntable and putting on the movie.

We sat on a couch, Vick in the middle, Ric and me at opposite ends. That didn’t stop me from glancing at him out of the corner of my eye every now and then. I no longer felt like holding back.

I like to think he didn’t notice that time.

Sure enough, once I got home, I looked up several of the songs he had shown me, along with their lyrics in English. “Pronta Entrega” was my favorite, without a doubt.

My small mistake was, perhaps, playing that music straight from my laptop instead of listening to it with headphones. At one point, Vick peeked through the half-open door and just stared at me.

“-What’s wrong?”

“-You know he’s leaving in a few months, right…?”

“-It’s just music.”

Vick didn’t reply, but she looked at me with eyes that said “you don’t even believe that yourself,” but also “you’re an adult and I’m not going to tell you what to do.” She kept walking down the hall, but that brief interaction was enough to pull me out of the trance I’d been in for the past few hours.

“-It’s just music…”

Music is never “just music.”

After that time, Ric and I started talking every day, for several hours a day. We mostly talked about music or movies, but it was the first time in my life I had ever talked that long and that deeply with someone.

The following weekend, he asked if I wanted to go with him to look at vinyl records at a shop. With my heart in my throat, I said yes. That time I didn’t tell Vick where I was going, but I’m sure she figured everything out.

I still remember the nerves I felt on the way to meet him. It was the first time we would be alone together. He arrived first. He was sitting on a bench outside the shop.

In the end, we spent about half an hour inside that store, wandering through the different aisles that separated the music by genre and country. Between the two of us, we took more than twenty vinyls and CDs off the shelves, examined them, and put them back.

It felt more like a museum visit than a shopping trip. I don’t know what the staff thought about it, but I was having too much fun to even care. In any case, Ric ended up buying Caifanes’ self-titled album (their first one). That purchase was followed by the question:

“-Would you like to listen to it at my place?”

Maybe I’m easier than I thought… But how could I say no? Besides, in a few months he would be leaving. It didn’t matter if something went right or wrong, soon it would be over… right?

I don’t think I fully realized I had agreed to go to his place until the smell of wood hit me in the face. My pulse quickened, but I think I hid it pretty well.

He took a bottle of cold, fresh water from his fridge and poured it into two colorful mugs. Ric, always so healthy… With the mugs in hand, we went to his room.

He handed me the record, not only so I could do the honors of removing the plastic wrap, but also to teach me how to place it on the turntable. I was terrified of damaging it somehow, but that same fear made me extremely careful, as if I were trying to keep a baby alive. I understood that this was a kind of sacred ritual that this stranger, for reasons I didn’t fully understand, had decided to share with me; I just wanted to be worthy of it.

Cuando me muera y me tengan que enterrar Quiero que sea con una de tus fotografías Para que no me de miedo estar abajo Para que no se me olvide como es tu cara Para imaginar que estoy contigo Y sentirme un poquito vivo

It was pretty obvious that, that night, everything would end up between his sheets.

Details are unnecessary, just like so many things in that moment: the world outside his room, every person, everything that hadn’t yet been invented, every day that hadn’t yet arrived. It was one of those times when the planet could have exploded right then and there, and I would have died happy.

Too bad Ric loves the planet, and he still had to go south to save it…

Meanwhile, I tried to ignore the fact that I was digging my own grave. I lied to myself, saying “it doesn’t matter,” as I fell asleep in his arms, with him stroking my hair.

Sometimes I’m surprised by my ability to get myself into situations that will end up destroying me.

When I woke up, it was already daytime. I knew because of the light barely slipping through the gaps in the blinds, drawing lines on the walls like a sundial.

Ric wasn’t there. As I got dressed, I thought, “it doesn’t matter, it was just a slip, it won’t happen again…”

Pff, sure.

I walked out of the room and noticed he was on the balcony, tending to his small garden of potted plants. I approached slowly, but he noticed me right away.

“-Good morning.”

He said, smiling.

“-Good morning. Have you been up long?”

“-Mm, no, maybe half an hour. Did you sleep well?”

“-Yeah… Why didn’t you wake me?”

“-You looked tired and I didn’t want to bother you. Sorry, did you have something to do this morning?”

“-No, no… Still, I think I should go. I have work later.”

“-Yeah, I understand… Well, thanks for coming, Lyds.”

“-Thanks for inviting me.”

He stepped closer and, after hesitating for a moment, gave me an overly tender kiss at the corner of my mouth. I just smiled, like a professional loser.

“-Text me when you get home?”

“-Sure, I will.”

“-Alright… Have a nice day.”

“-Thanks, you too.”

I walked to the exit without stopping waving my hand. Once outside, I exhaled. It wasn’t relief, it wasn’t exhaustion. I went down to the street with a certain urgency and kept walking at a steady pace, even though I wasn’t actually in a hurry.

It was my mind that was racing. “Will Vick keep quiet or say something? What’s supposed to happen now? With Ric, will we keep talking like nothing happened, playing dumb, or did something change forever? Should I cut off all contact with him right now?”

Because of the distraction, I almost didn’t see a car that sped past me, brushing my cheek, amid honking and insults. I froze, eyes wide. People were staring at me. I didn’t seem to fully return to the real world.

Days passed and, even though at first I tried to play “ice queen” and gradually stop talking, we ended up chatting as much as always. We also continued seeing each other.

Sometimes, in subtle ways, he would make comments hinting at the idea of me going with him to Ecuador; and I, kinda joking (yet not entirely), would laugh about how little I could imagine myself surviving in the middle of the jungle.

I mean, more than once I found myself thinking, “what if I went with him? Could I learn to speak Spanish and adapt? But what would I even do there? What would I live off? Where would I stay? What if things don’t work out? Would I really be willing to change my life that much… for a man?”

No, not really… Honestly, fantasizing about the two of us living in a cabin in the jungle, surrounded by animals, plants, and crystal-clear water was nice… as a fleeting fantasy. Sadly, I’m far too realistic to even dare seriously consider the possibility. From the very beginning, we both knew the obvious: despite everything, we were very different.

With those differences in mind, I went to our next date thinking, “today is the last time.”

And when that wasn’t the last time, on the next one I thought, “this time it really will be the last time.”

And when that wasn’t the last time either, I thought, “next time, without fail, will be the last time.”

“Everytime is the last time...”

Later I understood, that sometimes the end only comes when you stop planning it.

“-You know, I’ve been thinking about it and… I think I could postpone my trip for another year…”

“-…What?”

“-I mean… Maybe I’m rushing things a bit. Maybe I should get some experience here first, you know, at a zoo or something… Even if it’s just volunteering, why go so far away for this?”

“-But what about your internship? Will they let you postpone it?”

“-Well, no… But I’m sure that if I get a job here and then submit a resume with some experience, they’ll still consider me. Someone like that would be much more useful to them than a kid fresh out of the shell, don’t you think?”

“-I…”

“No. This isn’t right. This has to stop.

This is the last time.”

“-…I think… we shouldn’t see each other anymore.”

Not even I know where I got the strength or the coldness to say it like that. I just said it, without looking at him, my gaze lost somewhere in front of me.

I remember there was silence. I was shaking, my hands were sweating, and in my throat a knot was forming; one I almost wished would cut off my breathing altogether.

Inside, I was begging, “please… please don’t hate me… please don’t argue with me… please…”

It was almost a minute. Unbearable.

But he understood.

“-…Okay.”

That’s all he said, also without looking at me. After a moment, he turned to me, and again he had that smile, the one that says “everything’s going to be alright.” But in his eyes I could perceive the doubt, the hurt.

He kissed me on the cheek, softly, almost like a ghost. Then he stood up, adjusted his satchel a little, and left.

I stayed there, motionless. Pathetically motionless, as always.

It wasn’t until it started getting dark that I realized I couldn’t stay there forever. Could I?

I don’t know if the way back was short or long. I remember my mind was blank, and I felt like I was floating in nothingness. Suddenly, everything around me felt so unreal, so insignificant, so devoid of meaning.

Nothing makes sense. Nothing matters.

Does this matter to me?

That state lasted a few days. Ric and I didn’t exchange a word. I barely brought it up with Vick. There was no need. She knew it would happen sooner or later, and she knew me well enough to understand how much I hate talking about these things, especially when the outcome will be the same, no matter what I say.

But when a week had passed, and with two left before Ric would leave, I had one of those moments where you suddenly “wake up,” and realized I would never again smell the wood in his room, or see the sunlight slipping through the blinds in stripes, or lose myself in the spin of vinyl records playing songs in a language I felt I understood only through the melody that carried them.

In a stupid attempt to imagine I was still there, in that “piece of heaven” I had the misfortune of knowing, I lay down on the bed with my headphones and played those songs at full volume. MP3s sound like shit compared to vinyl.

What is this obsession with forcing a miserable pose? What was I trying to achieve by doing that?

Does it even matter?

The cold hand of Vick on my arm pulled me out of the trance. I don’t know how many hours had passed. Enough for her to dare come in without knocking, I guess.

“-Sorry for coming in like this. I called you a couple of times from the other room, and when you didn’t answer, I got worried.”

“-It’s fine. Did something happen?”

“-No, just… I didn’t want to leave you alone. Sorry, I know you don’t like being ‘interrupted’ when you’re like this, but…”

“-Actually… I think I do want a hug.”

Vick smiled at me, maybe a little surprised. Now that I think about it, I never asked her for a hug before. If we ever hugged, it just happened naturally. But to ask for one?

Without hesitation, she lay down beside me, and we stayed like that until the next morning. I didn’t know I could curl up in bed with my friend. Why had we never done that?

I wish I had asked her before. I wish I had asked her again after that night. I wish I hadn’t been so afraid of looking needy, afraid of embarrassment. Embarrassment of what?

“-Maybe I don’t have a cool haircut or a green thumb like Ric, but you’ll always have me.”

God. I didn’t want to remember that.

We had time... We still had time….

My sweet, my forever beloved Victoria… You said I would always have you, and I keep calling you “mine,” as if we, sad and insignificant human beings, had ever been granted the right to own anything in this life.

June, 2023

That day, I didn’t dare go into the cemetery. But I couldn’t not go either… Was ‘she’ even there…?

I spent almost the entire day sitting outside the graveyard. From the cars leaving the grounds, I could tell the service had ended.

I heard footsteps. After a moment, Richard sat down on the same bench as me, keeping some distance. I didn’t look up.

“-It was a quiet ceremony. Her mom seemed calmer.”

I wanted to respond, but after what had happened, the knot in my throat barely let me breathe.

“-I doubt she would’ve said anything if she saw you there. I… brought an extra bouquet, in case you wanted to go in afterward.”

Ric handed me a small bouquet of star jasmine, lilies, and pale pink carnations. It was very beautiful.

The scent of jasmine felt almost like a hug, but a very sad one. All I managed was a sigh.

The silence stretched for a few minutes. Gradually, the gentle fragrance of the flowers helped to clear my throat a bit.

“-Ric… she’s really gone… What am I going to do now?”

My voice barely came out. I hated that he saw me like this. We weren’t supposed to see each other anymore, and then… this…

He moved a little closer. He seemed unsure whether to hug me or not. I didn’t know either, even though I was burning for it.

In the end, he placed his arm around my shoulder with his characteristic care.

“It’s okay. I can rest my head and lean into his embrace for a moment. I can allow myself a little relief in the middle of so much pain… what else could be damaged at this point?”

“-I think I’ll stay in New York.”

“No… not this again… not now…”

At that very instant, I pulled away. It was more than enough to remind me why I could no longer allow myself moments like this with him.

“-Lydia, please-”

“-When I met you, the first thing you mentioned was how much you were looking forward to that trip. You told me about the effort, the setbacks along the way, the whole ‘making the world a better place’-”

“-I know! Do you think I don’t think about that all the time? I really wanted this, it’s all I had in mind for years, without a second of doubt! Now I don’t know anymore… So many things happened… So fast…”

“-And what are you going to do if you stay? Cry until you kill yourself?”

“-Lydia, please… This is hard for me too, you know? In less than a month I lost you, and I lost my friend. Now I’m scared, do you understand? Everything feels so fragile, so fleeting… I don’t know what to do anymore. I’m really scared…”

That was the first and only time I saw him like that, shaken, afraid… It was so unlike him that it broke my heart even more. If anyone didn’t deserve to feel that way, it was him.

Maybe he would have been better off if he had never met me.

“-…I’m sorry, Richard. Maybe I should’ve never let anything happen between us. I should’ve stopped it as soon as it started. I knew it was wrong and still-”

“-No, no… Lydia…”

He continued, in a calmer tone.

“-…Despite everything, I swear I don’t regret a single second of the time we spent together. It’s just that… well… it makes me sad to know I won’t see you anymore, you know?”

“-Yeah, I know…”

I took a breath. I understood the situation was in my hands, and that I couldn’t allow myself to cry or fall apart. I wasn’t going to neglect him the way I neglected her. I had to do things right.

“-…It was really beautiful meeting you, Richard. I know this is sad now, but I also know that in the future, when I think about our time together, I’ll feel happy. You left a lot of good things in me… I hope I did the same for you.”

“-You were the best thing that happened to me the entire time I was in the United States, Lyds… I promise I’ll feel happy every time I think of you too… I know it’ll be often.”

We both let out a small laugh, the kind you use to try to hold back tears. He leaned in a little, but not to kiss me. He ran his thumb over one of my eyelids, even though his own were heavy.

We looked at each other for a moment. Then we hugged.

Now, this time… it really was the last time.

I wanted to soak in his scent, let it cling to my skin so I could carry him with me a little longer.

I closed my eyes and imagined the three of us. I remembered one time we were leaving a late-night screening of Black Sunday, our coat collars pulled up to our chins. We hurried into Ric’s car. The music always came on before the heat. A song by Electrodomésticos was already halfway through. Soon, the windows fogged up with smoke and silly laughter...

“We still had time.”

I wanted to cry, but I held it in until the very end. I was afraid of taking a wrong step and making his doubts grow. I knew that once I got home, a pack of cigarettes would be waiting for me, and I would be able to cry to them all I wanted, without fear of breaking anything in the process.

April, 2024

Somewhere on the outskirts of Connecticut

That was a rainy afternoon, Sunday. There wasn’t much to do. BJ, the Maitlands, and I were in the main room. We were still getting to know each other.

At one point I stepped away to the window to smoke (back when I still bothered to). I grabbed my phone and started scrolling through social media.

I wasn’t paying attention to anything in particular. Between the smoke and the rain, I was almost on autopilot… until I came across a story shared by one of the guys from New Year’s night.

“Richard…?”

It was him. With less metal on his face and his hair a bit shorter, but it was him.

The video was from an Ecuadorian ecology page. His friend had shared it to help spread it.

To my embarrassment, I still couldn’t understand a word of Spanish, but it seemed like he was talking about guided tours through the reserve, aimed at raising awareness among locals and gathering funds to maintain the facilities.

He had made it. He had reached the Amazon and gotten that internship. There he was, making the world a better place. He looked so happy…

I smiled. Seeing him like that filled me with a deep, tender happiness. He deserved it more than anyone.

I finished my cigarette (with a bit of guilt for poisoning the air after seeing Ric) and went back to the center of the room with the others.

Music had been playing on my laptop for a while. I had clicked on a random pre-made playlist. Suddenly, I felt like listening to something more “specific.”

I searched for a particular song and hit play without thinking.

“-Sounds good, what is it?”

“-‘Veerus’. Virus, in Spanish. They’re from Argentina. It’s… Latam post-punk.”

“-So, like Soda Stereo, that kind of thing?”

“-You know them?”

“-I haven’t listened to them much, but a friend from the Neither is obsessed to death, the Soul Train, and the Great Beyond.”

As would later become a habit, BJ got up from his seat and immediately started dancing. It didn’t take long for him to extend his hand and invite me to dance too. Given my sudden good mood, it was one of the times I accepted most easily, even with the Maitlands watching.

It was a nice afternoon. It was also nice to realize that, indeed, thinking about him made me happy. It no longer made me sad to think about everything that never was. Despite a couple of bad things that happened along the way, life didn’t feel so unpleasant at that moment. Not at all.

And listening to that music again, after several months, felt really good too.

“Ric… Even if our time together was brief, I’m very grateful for what we got to live. I’ll never forget the passion with which you shared your favorite things, nor the care with which you broadened my horizons.

I hope you know the value your existence added to my life. Of all the things in the world that don’t belong to me and over which I have no control, it’s comforting to know that this is something I will always have, and that now I can even share it with others.

After all, you did make the world a better place; at least mine is.”