Dave opened the door and there he was, eyebrows raised expectantly.  Something growled in Dave's stomach and the muscles in his arms corded up. But Al's posture wasn't at all offensive.  He grinned sheepishly in the cool breeze,
     "Hey man," Al offered.
     "Hi Al."  There was a rough pause in the summer night.
     "Is Lauren in?"  Al scratched the scruff of his neck.
     "Yeah," Dave answered cautiously.  Al's uncharacteristic slouch hid his bulk.  Dave clenched his right hand.
     "Well, man, can I come in?"  He took a step forward.  Dave slammed the door shut and faced him.
     "I don't think that's such a good idea right now."  Dave stared into Al's shocked face.  "She's told me that she needs," he paused, "some time for herself."  Al shifted his weight to his back foot and straightened.  His heavy eyes looked to the left and right,
     "But..." he stammered, "but I have her stuff."
     "Her stuff?"
     "Yeah," he collapsed on the porch edge, "she put in a couple of her things when she packed all my stuff up."
     "She did, huh?"
     "Yeah, CD's and books got mixed in.  It happens after living with someone a while."
     "I wouldn't know."  Dave relaxed a little.  Al wasn't there for a fight.  He wanted to make peace.  Dave pulled out a cigarette, Rothmans blue label and offered one to his quiet well built adversary.  He lit both.
     "Blue Label, I remember these from the club"
     "Yeah, a kid in my acting class got me hooked on these."
     "Strong,"
     "Yeah."
     "So how's she doin'?"  Al sucked on his cigarette like a pacifier.  Dave considered a lot of different answers, then said,
     "Better, I guess," he inhaled fresh air, "at least less, you know, crazed."
     "She's painting?"
     "Almost all the time," Dave lied, "Her usual weird stuff."
     "That's good, real good."  He looked down dejected and was silent.  Dave examined him, as if it was the first time they met.  He couldn't even see a glimmer of what Lauren must have seen in him.  Al was odd looking, with ears that were made only larger by his close cropped hair and his sunken eyes.  He was big and well built, but he carried himself with such a sense of defeat. Smoking in his army surplus pants and ripped tee shirt with the yellow streetlight silhouetting him, Al looked like a broken puppet.
     "You know what the worst thing about this is?"  Dave had several nasty replies.
     "No."
     "I don't even know what I did wrong.  It was like things were fine and then overnight, she was kicking me out."  He coughed.  Dave felt a different tension building in him.
     "Oh, come on, things weren't fine," he growled.
     "All right maybe not," he paused, "but they weren't awful."  He stared down the street on the front porch of the house were he used to live.  "It was like she expected me to be this great artist or something."  he shrugged and shook his head.  "I never said I was.  I never made any promises."
     "I don't think it was that."
     "Then what the hell did I do?" Al pleaded.
     "I don' know," Dave snapped, "she just couldn't deal with you anymore." Dave knew it ran deeper than that, but he didn't feel that he had the right to let this out.  It was between them.  "Anyway, you were the one who stormed out on her."
     "For a weekend..."
     "Without a word as to where you'd gone or if you were coming back." Dave clenched and unclenched his hands.  "She was sick of it."
     "Ah you don't know the half of it."
     "I what?"
     "You hardly even know what she's really like, behind the paint and dark clothes."  Al leaned on the porch rail.
     "Well, what don't I know?"  Dave sneered.
     "Lauren's like this impossible to deal with energy vampire.  She's exhausting to deal with.  There's HER problems and HER work and SHE's hungry.  And just try to get her to do something for you and all of a sudden you become Hitler.  Oh you laugh, sure"
     "I'm sorry"
     "I'm serious.  She borrowed money from me before that first gallery showing, and didn't ever pay it back,"
     "Oh c'mon."
     "I'm serious, she's a leach.  I was working fifty hour weeks just to keep her happy.  And I almost never got any thanks for it.  She just got moody and worked on another freaky painting.  And there were her friends."
     "That's it.  I like her friends."  Dave was furious, first lies and now...
     "No, I like them too, you know.  But I think she's just a bit too close to some of them, if you know what I mean."  There was a long silence between them.  Dave wondered if he could take Al.  Sure Al was big, but he was always so slow.  "First a quick charge," he thought,  "enough to push him over the rail. Then while he's flailing in the bushes a couple a quick kicks and then a throw to the ground as he stumbles out."  Dave wanted desperately to do real damage to this bumbler who had emotionally messed up Lauren so badly.  He 
hadn't lived at this third story apartment long, but it was long enough to see the scars, and the fresh wounds that the two year relationship left.  Lauren had little to no self- esteem left and a very short fuse for shouting.   She was very strung out, but recovering.  He stopped and thought about her.  She was probably on the porch above them.
     "So where is her stuff?"  Dave snubbed out his cigarette.
     "In the car."
     "Could you go get it?"  Dave asked forcefully.  Al looked up at him.
     "Sure, man," he said, "it's your show."
     "What an asshole," Dave thought as Al wondered off.  Soon all was back with a beer box.  He put it by the steps.
     "Well, I guess I'll be seeing you when Lauren calms down."  Al gave a fake smile.
     "Sure, man.  She got your number."
     "I'm staying with Greg, You met Greg, right?"
     "Yeah."
     "Yeah, I'm in the south end now.  The address is in there with a note for her."
     "Great."
     "Great."
     "Bye." Al laughed uncomfortably.
     "Yeah bye."  Al blundered off and Dave picked up the box.  He wondered if he should read that letter.  He didn't really want to know actually.   He opened the door and entered.  It was over.  Physically and emotionally drained, he headed up.  The stairs were steep and ran on forever.  But Lauren and the place waited for him, with the smell of fresh linseed oil and turp everywhere and smiles and wide eyes.  He imagined dark curls smeared with paint laid out on flannel sheets.  It seemed like home and it was worth it.
 

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