the James Dean that lived

2

people all around were making out. girls and boys, boys and boys, girls and girls. the room reeked of pot and beer bottles were strewn about, along with cans of soda.
"this is just a regular old college party huh?" i asked a girl who i vaguely recognized from a sculpting class i taught at an artist's workspace in the city, she sat on the arm of the couch and she laughed for a moment.
"yeah, no wine tasting or mozart here,"

river stuck out again. he had stood up and got out a pack of cigarettes. he gently pushed past me but steadied my shoulders with his hand as he moved by, so he didn't knock me over. his brown athletic shoes sunk into the tan carpet, carefully avoiding sleeping bodies and open toes in sandals.

i followed him out the front door.
he knocked the water off of a bench that sat outside of eli's apartment and raised a grand gesture, inviting me to sit next to him.
"fuck it's warm," he said after a moment. i nodded, agreeing.
"january is normally the coldest, but not this year."

"i'm from oregon but grew up in a tropical environment," he smiled.
i huddled a bit closer to him.
"you're a lot cooler than i am, i see." he laughed, and switched his cigarette from his left hand to his right, and then wrapped his left arm around my shoulders.

"it's strange seeing you here,"
"why's that?"
"i'm just used to seeing you on the cover of those candy-colored teen magazines at the drugstore," i said. he tapped his fingers against his face in mild bemusement.
"i never thought about that," he started.
"you must know everything about me; while I know nothing about you," he said.

it was true. i knew that he had cheated on his ex-girlfriend, that his middle name was jude, that he had a lazy eye that he tried so hard to cover up. but it wasn't excessive, i did not know his shoe size, or his favorite color.

"tell me about you," he said to me.
i gazed over at him above my glasses, then he reached a gentle hand up to push them up by the nose piece. my heart fluttered and i fought the urge to say "aww" aloud.

"my middle name is louise," i laughed.
"i think that's a nice name." he smiled his crooked boyish smile.
"you know something about you riv-" i started.
"we're talking about you,"
"i'm majoring in fine arts, but i want to be an elementary school art teacher eventually. i really want a dog but dorms won't let me, i like to draw." i laughed a bit.

"have you been drinking?" he asked.
i shook my head.
"you're so magnetic, people are normally only so interesting when they're drunk,"
"i'm not that interesting."

"they say you're the james dean that lived." i started as we walked towards his car.
we were in sherman oaks, it was the best time to go there. the chevron station that james dean stopped at last. also where the manson family dropped a wallet in the toilet from a guy they robbed and murdered. we pulled into the parking lot, and the woman working behind the counter was used to stars, she saw river, his lazy eye and weird skinny upturned nose, and she looked away, back to organizing candy.

i stealthily dragged River to the back of the store, where the men's bathroom was. i knocked on the door, and it came open.
"w-what?" he said, stunned.
"don't worry i'm not going to rape you. this is where the manson family dropped the wallet," i told him. he nodded, quickly ducking inside.
"hey can you lock that door?" he asked. i nodded.
he was facing away from me and i heard a zip.
"stop looking at me I get shy!" he cried out. I covered my eyes.
"riv did you really have to piss now?" i said as i finally heard him urinating.
"yes!" he laughed. he finished up and turned around.
"it probably would look better for me if i washed my hands huh," he laughed, walking towards the sink. he looked at me from the mirror as he washed his hands.
"you look sort of like drew barrymore with short hair," he said after he turned around.
"this a good thing?" i asked, turning the doorknob and the lock popped open.
there was a man waiting on the other side, looking concerned.

but river did not flinch. river did not fall into his catholic glare. river just grabbed me by the wrist and led me to the cereal section.
"did you know those corn puffs are vegan?" he asked.
"no but who likes corn puffs?"
"me!" he said, grabbing his chest in mock horror.

river danced about the parking lot, lifting up his shirt and sticking a finger in his belly button and giggling like a little girl in church when the pastor says something about premarital sex. he threw his arm around me, and we must've looked like such drunkards. river; standing 6 inches taller than me, hanging onto me for dear life, while also gripping a box of "corn pops"

he was so childlike, in a sense that i didn't quite understand. he splashed in the puddles, not caring about the glare he got from another party kid, he giggled and grabbed my hands and gently swung them around.

"hey riv are you good to drive?" i asked him. he suddenly switched back to the river he was in front of eli. the responsible, caring, fatherly river.

as riv pulled out of the parking spot and i saw our headlights on the last place james dean fueled up, i didn't feel so immortal anymore.

"hey riv?" i asked, looking at the speed meter. the road was empty, but he was doing 60 in a 40 zone.
"yeah?"
"can you slow down a bit?" I asked another question. and the car slowed to a respectable speed.
a cover of "i love you, big dummy," played on the radio, and boy was it fitting.

first i had ever seen him, anybody had ever seen him, was when stand by me came out. he was the oldest; of the group that is. without him, the movie would've fallen apart.

i didn't like him. i didn't know much about him except for the teen magazines photos of him and the headlines and stand out quotes. he was for the animals, for women, for gays, for music, he was pro all the good stuff and anti all the bad. i didn't know how someone could be so wholesome, especially at 16. the stand out quotes were hypocritical, "i don't like how I'm portrayed as..." "well don't be in the public eye." my angry sixteen-year-old self would nag at him from afar.

but then; in my heavy metal magazines around 1988, i got to read more about his past.
when he was born in oregon everyone gawked in astonishment at his existence, in south america as a child in a group of cult members disguised as missionaries, he often sang for his dinner. his first big role was the only financial security his family had seen, and he was the breadwinner.

"riv?" i asked after we had been driving for a moment. i saw that we were heading towards campus.

he was not the same boy he was when he was 16 and I initially saw him. instead of the close-cropped haircut of a little kid he had nearly shoulder-length hair, smooth skin, as all actors do, these perfect manicured eyebrows, and most of all; these glasses. they veiled his eyes, hid his eye rather well.

"yes mathilda," he said sympathetically, in a sweet fatherly voice. i leaned my head over and rested it on his arm.
"nothing."