Lunch
Kelly, a friend of mine from high school, actually graduated college (fancy that) and has returned to the area for grad school. She and I had been meaning to get together ever since I got back in town, but we didn’t until the Wednesday after Lucy brought up moving in with Creepy Dan. I’ve been meaning to blog this story since then, but I kept forgetting.
Kelly and I basically shot the shit for awhile, and eventually, as always, Kelly brought up the subject of Lucy. Kelly can’t stand Lucy. She also can’t stand the fact that Lucy and I are closer friends than Kelly and me. She likes to bring Lucy up to mock her relentlessly. I used to join in, but for awhile I’ve been defending her; it makes it less fun for Kelly, but it doesn’t stop her.
Kelly asked, “Have you talked to Lucy lately?”
“Yeah,” I said. “I talked to her on Monday.”
“How’s she doing?” she asked. “I haven’t talked to her in about six months.”
“Eh, the same,” I said. “Shitty job, shitty friends, shitty life. But she says she’s moving back here.”
“Yeah?” Kelly asked.
“She’s gonna apply to Northeastern to finish up,” I said, “and she’s getting an apartment with Creepy Dan* near UIC.”
“What the fuck?” Kelly demanded. “That guy’s a fucking child molester!”
I started laughing.
“I’m serious,” she continued, “he’s a goddamn psychopath.”
“Yeah,” I said, “and there’s the problem that he’s in love with her. I think her moving in with him is probably the stupidest idea she’s ever had, and she’s had a whole lot.”
“You mean like quitting school to work at Lowe’s?” Kelly asked.
“Among other things,” I replied.
“Wait a minute,” Kelly said, a sudden thought hitting her. “Why the fuck are they gonna live down by UIC?”
I shrugged.
“Is she out of her mind? Northeastern is, like, up the street from North Park,” Kelly said. (North Park is where she’s going for graduate school.)
“Really? I have no idea where it is, but I figured it was down by UIC and Columbia because she said that’s where they were gonna live,” I said. “I guess that’s what I get for assuming she knew what she was talking about.”
“She’s so fucking clueless,” Kelly said. “It’s up by Foster. It’s, like, two blocks away from Higgins. She could probably walk there from her parents’ house.” This is a bit of an exaggeration, but the spirit is the same. Northeastern is way the hell up on the northwest side, almost to the suburbs. UIC is way the hell south. Columbia butts up on downtown, and UIC is several blocks west…living all the way down there would be way the hell out of her way.
Additionally, for somebody as paranoid as she was living in Lincoln Park, UIC’s neck of the woods isn’t exactly better for alleviating her paranoia. There are worse neighborhoods in Chicago, and pockets of that area are actually pretty nice, but if you stray too far in any direction, it won’t exactly lengthen your life.
Of course, she has no idea what the hell she’s doing but refuses to admit it. She’s going on what Creepy Dan, who apparently also plans to attend Northeastern, is saying, and he clearly doesn’t know shit, either. I assume they’re looking into that area because the rent is, generally, pretty cheap. There are reasons for that, but like I said, on the whole it isn’t too bad. Lucy will hate it, though. She’ll probably end up in worse shape than she did in Lincoln Park.
Bear in mind that I knew none of this when Lucy first talked to me about this. I neither knew nor cared where Northeastern was. I figured it was somewhere near UIC, because I assumed convenience would be the only possible explanation for her living in that area, especially since she specifically said she was worried being around that school would bring back bad memories.
None of this will end well. Creepy Dan is a bad start, and living way the hell away from where she needs to be for no reason is even worse.
“You shouldn’t tell her,” Kelly said. “She’s a fuck-up. She has to start figuring out some things on her own.”
“Eh,” I said, “even if I told her, she wouldn’t listen to me, anyway. She is a fuck-up, but part of the problem is she does everything on her own but refuses to learn anything from her fuck-ups.”
“That’s fucking depressing,” she said.
“Yup,” I said. It is.
*Yes, I actually called him Creepy Dan. Everybody but Lucy calls him Creepy Dan behind his back. It’s an easier shorthand, since Lucy used to date a guy named Dan who was much less creepy.
Posted by Stan on October 23, 2004 9:04 PM | Permalink | Friends: Can’t Live with ‘Em | Digg It
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