Daniel lay sideways across Robert's single bed, in his dorm room, where Robert was studying to be a concert pianist at U.N.H.. Chris, who was playing a bass guitar, not plugged in, so that it made no sound, was sitting forward next to Daniel. Robert was sitting in the only chair in the room. His roommate was out so the other bed in the room stood empty.
Damp towels and clothes, clean or dirty, were thrown over doorknobs and desks, anywhere they landed.
There was a case of beer, many of which the bottles were empty. They all held beers in their hands. Since Robert was already twenty-one, he had obtained the beer. Daniel and Chris were still nineteen.
"Have you guys heard about Adrien?," Daniel asked.
"No Man," Robert replied, "they don't let them call home from Iraq much. His sister said his mom talked to him, and it's all in like code - like Baghdad is 'hell,' or at least, that's what Christen said, anyway."
Daniel picked up his acoustic guitar, and began playing skillfully on it, practically still on his back, looking at the ceiling, thoughtfully.
"If I didn't have this fucking eye problem, I'd be in Iraq. I mean, I don't really know what to do with my life, right now, anyway."
Chris looked at him, seriously contemplating what he had just said. "What are you talking about, Dude? You're going to do your music, aren't you? Got to protect those hands. No one can play like you do. Everyone knows that. Man, it sucks over there, from everything I have seen and heard. I can see just fine, and I aint' goin'. They're like killing people and shit. I think this whole war is based on a lie. There's no weapons of mass destruction, not that they have found, anyway."
"I know like Iraq was like this peaceful country. I mean I know Saddam Hussein was like this evil dictator, I guess, but in a way, was that really the answer to what happened on 911? It's kind of like they started this war on the wrong country or something," Daniel added. "I just feel like I can't go to college. No one will give me a job back in Vermont. I just don't know what the hell I'm doin', Man. Sometimes, I think Adrien's dad pressured him. He's a retired peace time general. Busted up his leg pretty bad, got an early medical retirement. But, like he was always really strict. He's like a control freak. I spent a lot of my childhood at their house. He's like this drill sergeant. Adrien felt like he didn't have a choice, like his dad wouldn't let up or something, and his mom didn't really want him to go. I mean she's proud and all, but like, I know part of him, didn't want to go, but I guess more of him did. Still, I feel like he got a lot of pressure from his dad, from what I saw and heard. You know how military families are. It's like a legacy they gotta keep goin'."
"That's messed up," Robert agreed, "but I got that too. Part of him didn't really want to go, but like part of him felt like he had no choice. It kind of sucks, but the good part is, he'll have benefits for the rest of his life, and they'll pay for him to go to school, not that the Petersons can't afford it. They're loaded, like the only people I know who are these days, in this economy.
In some ways he had it made, 'cause he got so much, like a nice car and shit, but he had so much pressure. I mean his dad was mean, ya know?"
"Yeah, definitely strict," Chris agreed.
Daniel was thinking, 'at least he has a dad.' Daniel had only had a father briefly, Nick's dad, and that had only lasted until he was about seven, and Nick, only about two. He could remember him, but it all seemed like some faint and distant memories to him now. Charlie was nice, but he wasn't exactly a dad.
At that point, Daniel lit a cigarette.
Chris turned to him, "can you bum me one?"
"Yeah, but I only have two left."
"I'll get us some. I got a job now, waiting tables," Chris responded, reaching for the cigarette and lighter.
"Can I stay with you guys, at your place, while we are getting the band together with Ali and Todd?," Daniel asked Chris, a little worried about what the answer would be, because he did not have enough bus fare, to get back to Vermont. He was actually pretty broke, and he did not want to ask his mother for money, knowing she was struggling financially.
"Yeah, sure. Stay as long as you want, Bro, it's no problem at all."
"Thanks", Daniel responded, and continued about his friend, Adrien, "but like what if some weird shit happens to him over there? Or like he comes back different. They see all kinds of fucked up stuff, ya know? Like how do you come back the same? What if he has PTSD or gets wounded really badly?"
The boys were slightly drunk, so Daniel found his mind spinning in all directions, not in a bad way, but he could not stop thinking about Adrien, his best friend, in Iraq. He felt guilty for not being able to be there, himself.
"Yeah," Robert continued the line of thought, as if reading Daniel's mind, almost, "I feel guilty going to college, and think about all the fucked up shit going on. Man, I don't even watch the news anymore. It's all so disturbing, and then I think, 'that could have been Adrien,' and the Iraqi people are getting injured and killed by the millions, as well, ya know?"
"I know," Chris retorted, taking a long drag off his smoke. "This war's been goin' on since 2003, and here it is, four years later. Next year is election year. Maybe the next president will get this country out of there. They need an exit strategy. Did you guys see Fahrenheit 911, by Michael Moore?"
"Yeah, it had some good points, I guess, kind of disturbing too, I suppose, like you said. I think they need to kill Bin Ladin," Daniel remarked casually, almost lazily, taking another swallow of beer.
"Yeah, that's what needs to be happening," Chris agreed.
"Man, all this is getting so depressing, you guys. You want to jam or something? All this talk about Iraq and Adrien is making me depressed, ya know what I mean?," Chris changed the subject, which was getting intense.
"Yeah, Man, I know exactly how you feel, Brother," Daniel responded to that, and started to play a Pink Floyd number. Chris had the bass plugged into the amp, and Daniel had switched to his electric guitar, but they had to keep it down because it was a dormitory. Back at their apartment in Durham, they could play as loud as they wanted, so long as the neighbors did not complain, but they had the maturity, by now, to be considerate.
Robert plugged in his portable keyboard, and they jammed for a good while, until Chris and Daniel became tired, and Robert said he had an early class in the morning.
"Adios Amigo." Daniel put his hand on Robert's shoulder, as he and Chris left, with their instruments and a few of the beers. "Peace," he added, on the way out the door.
"Peace. See you guys," Robert told them, and shut the door, as Daniel and Chris left down the corridor, lugging their instruments.
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