It was Friday night and for Keith that meant it was a night at Camelot. Yet, as he talked to Anjie on the phone, he felt that something was wrong, or a little off tonight, but he couldn't pinpoint it. It might have been a quiver in her voice, or the static on the line, or his sunburned shoulders, or something worse, but Keith couldn't give it a name. 
       He opened the closet door and pulled out his outfit, and looked it over. The pants were nicely ironed and the shirt was smooth as well. He had seen to that. He changed out of his cut- offs and into the black get-up. He looked at himself in the full-length bathroom mirror and felt powerful again. He sat on the toilet seat and pulled on the knee-socks and newly polished boots. He had learned from his last pair, now a wreck, that boots should stay well-polished. Then he checked his money, and his Id and made sure that he had the flier that was also for reduced admission. He turned before the mirror. He was ready. 
       So he headed out, locking the doors behind him. He shuffled down the stairs and onto the street and instantly felt the city's presence. It was awesome and frightening to be so small in a huge place. He'd never get used to this, not for years. Yet he walked as if he belonged, keeping his head down and his eyes shaded by sunglasses, even though it was dark out. He turned the corner onto the Ave and walked at what he considered a purposeful pace. Sometimes Anjie, Craig and the guys would walk with him to the club, but tonight they'd meet there. It wasn't a long walk, and it was only interrupted by some brother who said, 
       "Hey, I like the shades." 
       Then there it stood, with neon scribble and plaster ionic columns. Keith entered the club mutely and quickly, much like he walked. He paid at the desk, took off his glasses and felt self- conscious at walking in alone. He put his hands in his pockets nervously, then thought he looked goofy and took them out and felt more foolish for being unnerved. Which unnerved him further. He lit a cigarette and sat at the closest seat at the bar. The music was loud and really bad, but it'd get better. People around him were talking and Keith craned his neck over the larger dance floor. There weren't many people out, but it was still early. He took another drag, then ordered a cheap beer and paid the steep price. The he swaggered into the other room coolly. 
       A crowd was watching the TV monitors and yelling over the heavy music. It was no one he knew, just a few regulars. An old Bugs cartoon was on the nine wall monitors, and though there was no sound, you could still understand the actions. It seemed more reasonable with the thundering screaming music around it. His friends weren't here yet. Keith finally accepted this and sat watching people thrashing on the smaller floor. 
       His friends preferred this room. The people were more real they said. Keith liked the music in the other room, once it got going, but stayed with his friends while they were around. He remembered what this place was like the two times he came here years ago with Kristen. It was a madhouse. People were obviously drunk and stoned and acting like animals. It wasn't a very popular place, but it was dangerous and exciting. now Camelot had lost its edge. He laughed at the change and downed more beer. If anyone acted like they used to, they'd get bounced outta her in a second. Still, it was better than some of the trendier meat markets, and the big floor was famous for playing the classic alternative stuff that was now popular, but still amazing. Keith felt a fat fist punch him. 
       It was Jack. In Keith's reverie he hadn't noticed the guys approaching. Now a heavy set, six foot two leather freak was standing over him, grinning. 
       "Get on your fuckin' feet, boy and dance," he said with a drawl. 
       "Nice to see you too, tubbo." Keith laughed putting out his cigarette on Jack's vest. 
       "I'd kill you," Jack sneered, "If you didn't owe me a fuckin' jacket paintin'." He was grinning maliciously. 
       "I bet you would." They had a violent friendship based on one upmanship. Keith knew that Jack could kick the crap out of him. Luckily, Jack knew that he'd catch hell from everyone if he did. So there was always this holding off point, or almost always. Keith stood up and gave Anjie a hug. She looked great. She always looks so great he thought. 
       "Been waitin' long?" 
       "No." Three other people, Craig, Andy and Vikki stood on the edge of the dance floor talking among themselves. At a place this loud, it was useless to gather in a group of over three people. You'd never hear each other. The Dj slipped into a driving, violent song. Jack's eyes widened and he started thrashing onto the dance floor. 
       "He's gonna get himself kicked out again." Anjie smiled warmly. Her green eyes had a shining that made them smile too. Keith stared at her trying to seem unentranced. 
       "Wanna beer?" he asked. 
       "Sure." He got up and walked to the bar, turning back once to look at her. She wore tiny black shorts over sleek nylons. Her legs were an all to familiar presence in his mind. An open blousy black shirt covered her slight slender body and an emerald tank top that made her seem boyish. Her bobbed straw-blond hair only enhanced that effect. She drifted to the trio on the floor's edge and Keith wanted her, again. 
       He ordered two beers and broke a ten. It tasted like an expensive night, but what the hell, school was out and the children should play, right? He lit another cigarette, opened the beers and returned to Anjie, who smiled coyly with thanks. They stared blankly into the half-full dance floor and Keith could feel the music and the beer getting to him. He really wanted to be out there, but he was waiting on Anjie. He turned to her. 
       "Can I have a drag?" she questioned. 
       "Sure." Anjie was a heavy smoker, but she had stopped buying cigarettes because she didn't have a job. It was sad. Keith leaned on a rail and looked at Jack plow his way through the crowd. Everyone moved out of the way for the big guy. 
       "Wanna check the other room?" Anjie asked smoothly. 
       "Yeah." Anjie had been unusually silent. The other room was picking up, playing a popular Manchester tune that Keith didn't recognize. They drifted to the ladder in the corner that they always drifted to. Anjie seemed distant. 
       "See that guy over there, the one who looks like a new kid?" Keith asked. 
       "Yeah?" 
       "That's Allen. The guy with a handcuff fetish that played Brad in The Picture Show a year ago." 
       "That's funny, I thought he'd be skinnier." 
       "You mean like me?" 
       "Yeah." She lapsed into silence and again, distance. The next song had a flowing bass line to it that gave it an ethereal quality. Anjie swayed slightly with her eyes closed and cigarette smoke circled her head. She looked eternally sad and lonely,. striking a chord in Keith. 
       He looked out on the dance floor feeling paper thin. A girl at the other bar, opposite him, was looking out bored into the crowd as well. They looked at each other for a moment, but were strangers so looked away in unison. A group of people walked in and past. A couple walked off the floor and out. A lot of people danced. A girl in the corner reminded him of Kristen. Every night he came here, something reminded him. It was the bangs. Dark hair in long bangs always reminded Keith of her. 
       "I can only see half of you," he used to joke. 
       "Isn't half enough?" was always the answer. It was funny and tragic and left him with a bitterness. He finished his beer. He wondered why so many people had to remind him of Kristen. 
       "So what have you been up to?" Anjie asked him. 
       "The usual, you know, helping the amateurs and being baffled by the professionals." He was part time floor help at an art supply store. 
       "Well, besides work. Have you been painting?" 
       "I'm still working on that harlequin." 
       "That freaky clown painting with two faces?" 
       "Yeah." 
       "Don't spend too much time on it. Its creepy. I thought it was done." 
       "I can't seem to finish it or get going on anything else. I've been doing some computer graphics stuff, though." 
       "That's cool. Can I see it sometime?" She asked innocently. 
       "Sure anytime." They looked back out over the crowd. How could Keith tell her how much he needed her back? It was impossible. He knew. He had always been such a fool, an idiot. It would never work. They agreed it would never work, again. 
       "So, you ready to dance?" 
       "Why not?" They danced. Keith led the way into one of the darker corners, near the speakers, the "bass bin", where the sound was loudest and people leave plenty of room. It took Keith a little while to actually get in step and he was feeling embarrassed. Anjie just flowed into the music slowly. She rarely danced with fury, not like Keith who relied on pure vigor and energy, lacking grace. He always danced with a hip-hop step that he felt was Indian-like. It didn't matter that no one else danced like him. Everyone just danced in any fashion that suited them. Damn the poses, just do what you feel. Kristen always made fun of the people who took dancing too seriously. Everyone has to have a different dance, their own dance. Keith knew that now. 
       After a few songs, the music got even better. People were gravitating toward each other. A short energetic girl kept eyeing Anjie, which wasn't unusual. A gothic, black clad girl was dancing madly, catching Keith's attention, but for the most part everyone looked bored. It was a style to look without care, and it was pretty universal at this club. After fifteen minutes, Anjie took a break, but Keith kept on going. Once he started dancing, he'd have to get really worn out to stop. It was too bad Liza wasn't here. Even though they rarely spoke to one another, Liza and Keith would always dance straight to the end. Dancing was something you could do alone together. 
       When Anjie left a manic presence took her place. Keith recognized her as Joanne, a crazed punk with short burgundy hair and a lot of leather. She was even wearing a biker coat on the steam trap of a floor. She stomped furiously in his corner for most of a song before she saw him. 
       "Hey Kevin." He had forgotten her idiotic California, like accent. 
       "Keith," he reminded her. 
       "Oh yeah, whatever," she yelled. "You here with Anjie?" She had such wide glaring eyes that Keith wondered if she was on something. She was way too perky, all in all. 
       "Yeah, she just went into the other room." 
       "Nonono, I mean," she paused dramatically, looking down at him, "are you here With Anjie?" Her hands chopped the air in front of her for emphasis. 
       "Oh," Keith wondered how she tortured her voice, and why. "No, we broke up two months ago, ancient history. Why?" 
       "I was just, like wondering. That's cool." Her voice scaled and descended octaves. Someone bumped into her from behind and she turned to give him the finger. Then she turned back, laughing and smiling. Why was she talking to him? It was getting annoying and tiresome. He tried to look for Anjie on the sidelines, without luck. So he and Joanne danced alone together for a while. Keith actually started to enjoy himself. He found that Joanne could be strikingly beautiful, in a toweringly athletic way, as long as she didn't speak. The thought kept him amused. Then she spoke. 
       "Like oohh God, I'm a sweaty mess." She rolled her huge gray eyes. "I need a mineral fizzy." Keith laughed at her phony exasperation. Was her whole act a put on or what? It was going a bit too far now. He had to know, so he followed up. 
       "I could use a drink too, but pray tell, what's a mineral fizzy?" 
       "You know that fizzy water, that's like lemon or orange or something. Like it's really... trippy." Come on, no one and absolutely no one would say "trippy" like that. The whole thing had to be a joke or something. He led her off the dance floor, and they headed for the farther bar, where he got another beer and she got her H2O. Joanne just looked at him for a while. 
       "So you sill living, like, in the same place?" 
       "Yeah, the attic apartment, just a block from here. You've been there?" 
       "This winter, silly, after New Years. You and Paul through quite a party." 
       "Oh yeah, I was pretty drunk, wasn't I, but I remember now. You wanted to buy a painting from me." Now that he knew the accent was a fake, she seemed much more amusing. 
       "But it was like, your brother's or something, so you did a quick sketch in a notebook and gave that to me." 
       "That's right, god", he mimicked. "I was really a mess that night." 
       "I'll say!" She sipped the water through a straw smiling. "Is Paul still living with you?" 
       "Naw, he transferred to UConn and is seeing the country while he's got the chance. I got the place to myself until the fall. My buddy Matt might be movin' in then." 
       "Oh, that's trippy," She said licking her straw, "Your own pad." He laughed. 
       "Yeah, I love all that extra space." The conversation was getting inanely silly. He finished his drink and ordered another. 
       "Oohh, that went down quickly," they laughed even though it wasn't funny. Keith wondered what his next step would be. He looked at her again. Should he kiss her? here? This was all to crazy...crazy. Her big eyes stared into him eagerly and he thought he saw her lick her lips. Then she burst out laughing. 
       "What..What's wrong?" He said giggling a little. 
       "No no no, nothing," she spurted out between laughs. 
       "No, what?" he asked catching more of the laughing fit. 
       "It's just," she said in an unearthly high tone, "you looked tooooo scared," She broke out hysterically. Keith calmed himself. 
       "Well," he tried to say with serious dignity, "I was." They both broke out gasping for air between laughter. Keith didn't even know what was so funny. It all seemed ridiculous. Anjie stopped in front of Keith. She was with a well groomed skinhead. Keith looked up and let out a small giggle. Joanne never stopped. 
       "Keith, Gus and I are gonna hit the bar around the corner," Anjie said, "Feel up to a drink?" 
       "I feel up to five, actually," Keith said. 
       "Me too," Joanne snorted. 
       "Okay..." Anjie said cautiously. 
       Gus the skinhead didn't say a thing. He was looking for the joke. 

       The bar they went to was a drag. Everyone there looked at the foursome as strangers. Keith felt stares, even when there wasn't anyone staring. They should have brought Jack, he thought. No one stares too close when that big brute steps in. It was quiet, but the drinks were cheap, at least. As for the conversation, well, Joanne might as well be talking to herself. It was more a monologue than a conversation. Gus butted in, but hardly dented the flow of words. It seemed that when Joanne had too much mineral fizzy she got over-excited. Anjie kept scowling at Keith. She did not approve at all. For the third round of drinks, they headed up alone. 
       "What the hell do you think you're doing?" she hissed. 
       "I'm ordering two good American buds, a margarita and an orange mineral fizzy." he said joking. 
       "I mean with the California she thing from hell? I swear, if she rolls her eyes one more time, I'm gonna gouge them out with those gross earings she's wearing." 
       "I do think you're getting jealous, my dear." He chuckled and ordered the drinks. 
       "I could never be jealous of that cow," she fumed. "I'm just amazed that you're stooping so low." 
       "First, I think the lady doth protesteth greatly," he misquoted, "and foremost, how can you judge her? You hardly know her." 
       "I know she goes home with a different man almost every week." 
       "Well then, it's past time she went home with me. Besides you seem to be doin' fine with Mr. silent and shaven." 
       "All right already. All right. You win. Just be careful Keith, know what I mean." She stared seriously. 
       "I always am, you know." 
       "Not after six beers, buddy," she said with a hardness. 
       "I bet I can still walk a straight line to the table." 
       "You're on, but I think I better carry the drinks." 

       It was three thirty in the morning when Keith, restless, turned on the TV. He was tired and sore from dancing and everything else. He had told Joanne that he felt like sleeping on the couch. She seemed hurt but they both made the best of it anyway. Anjie was right, Joanne was a bit wilder than he liked. It was intimidating. She was buzzed and nutty for about an hour, and then she crashed hard. It was visible. Keith never did find out what she was really on. He didn't care. That was her problem. She crawled off to bed with a simple goodnight. Keith felt really alone and sober. Nothing had changed his thoughts which floated around the same images and scenarios. He wondered what his infatuation was with changing the past. It was all such a useless dream, he realized. Why not revel in what's going on now? But every time he tried to think about something recent, he was drawn to the things he could no longer change. He couldn't sleep. 
       So he turned on the television. Joanne had cable, which he rarely watched, so he flipped to a local news and arts station to catch something from a comedy club or exhibition. He felt like keeping up with the city in order to fit in with it more naturally. All that was on was a summary of the happenings of the past week. It was exciting to see the life, but it frustrated Keith to know that he couldn't be a part of these now gone events, concerts, rallies and even a parade. He hadn't known about any of them. Then a commercial came on, but he was too apathetic to even hit the remote. 
       It was Kristen again. It always come down to her. He'd only known her for three months and everything was such a shambles then. It was all in the upside down land of a messed up high school senior. They had a blast though. Or tried at least. She was full of life, chaotic actually, and was a psychoanalyst's wet dream. The time she crushed a cat and cried all night was unreal. that was when he knew he loved her, when she broke down. No one could need him like that. But after graduation, she disappeared. It was one of those weird cases. Someone thought she was in prison. Keith kissed her twice at his graduation party, and that was all. She loved him, he knew it there, through all the psychosis and everything. He held onto that fact. She loved him but she couldn't take it anymore. She told him she wanted to just fly away, be free and chop off her hair. But why didn't she say goodbye? he could at least have said goodbye. She loved him and he loved her. But she'd never, never know, now. 
       The weight loss commercial was over and a dating service ad snapped on. It was the typical cheesy confessional with mostly unattractive women, a big haired blonde, a bored skinny brunette and a redhead with big teeth. But there was another girl. Her voice was soft and too breathy for tv, but her jawline was sharp and her cheekbones were high and regal. Her eyes flashed blue and attentive and her face was thin and elfish. Keith sat transfixed. His brain burned her image. He cried softly, though the words were simple. 
       "Dateline has helped me meet lots of fun people. People who share my interests and are interested in me. I never knew so many different people were out there. Thank you dateline, I don't know what I'd have done without you." 
       Her hair seemed shorter than saying goodbye. 

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