A Song for Julia

girls.”
    “Not anymore. Not this time.” My reply was firm. Not defensive.
    He didn’t answer right away. Julia was sitting across the room from me, a curious expression on her face. That was going to be a difficult conversation to explain. I was hoping she wouldn’t ask.
    “All right, kid. Just come by. When can you get here? I’ll pick you up at Broadway.”
    I checked her alarm clock, sitting on the desk. It was a little past noon.
    “I’ll be there at one.”
    “All right. Don’t be late.”
    He hung up without saying goodbye. My dad’s always been a paragon of good manners.
    I folded the phone and stuffed it in my pocket. “Listen, Julia … I gotta go to my dad’s. I don’t know what it’s about, sounds like he wants to talk about something, but he wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.”
    She nodded and asked, “Want me to come along?”
    “I really do. But don’t you need to work on your paper?”
    She shrugged. “I’ll bring it with me. Unless you want to go alone…”
    I looked at her and raised my eyebrows. “Of course, I want you to come.”
    “It’s decided then. Give me a second to get myself together.”
    So a few minutes later, we were trudging through the snow toward Harvard Square. Holding hands. That was … weird. And nice. And it didn’t resolve any of my questions. Her dorm, or house, or whatever they call it, was separated from the rest of campus and from Harvard Square by several blocks. And with a good ten inches of snow on the ground, that felt like a long distance. But we finally got to the square, got a couple cups of coffee from Au Bon Pain and started toward the entrance to the T.
    Behind the newspaper stands was the sunken amphitheater shaped area everyone calls The Pit. Even in this weather, there were a dozen or more people hanging out in the pit, mostly huddled under the shelter for the T. My kind of people: misfits, mostly. Punks with nowhere else to go.
    “Hey, Crank!”
    The voice came from one of the guys huddled in a coat in the Pit. It was Lenny. About twenty-three, maybe twenty-four years old, he’s a lanky, pale skinned guy with dreadlocks and multiple face piercings. I don’t know if Lenny is his real name, but he’d been a regular around the Pit for years. We used to pay guys to go in the packie and get us liquor, then get stinking drunk in the cemetery.
    I didn’t really miss those days.
    “Lenny … hey, man.”
    We bumped fists. “What’s doin’, Crank?”
    “Heading over to my dad’s,” I said. I turned to Julia. “Julia, this is Lenny. We used to hang.”
    Lenny said, “Yeah, before you became all famous and shit.”
    I shook my head. “I’m a lot of things, Lenny, but famous isn’t one of ‘em.”
    “Nice to meet you, Lenny,” Julia said. Her eyes were wide, and as I looked at her and at Lenny, I realize the gulf I was crossing here. The guys I used to hang with down here at the Pit, and just around town: mostly homeless or couch surfers. Drugs, drinking. I’d cut most of that crap out. There was no future in it, and I may not be a college boy, but I was planning on going somewhere.
    Lenny looked at her, and I think he saw the same thing I did, because he said, “So, you dating barnies now? What the hell, man?”
    I felt a surge of irritation and said, in a friendly tone, “If you want to keep your teeth, Lenny, you won’t ever say anything like that again.”
    He put his hands up in the air. “Hey, no offense, man. I know how it is. You make a little money from your music and sell the rest of us out. No big deal.”
    “Knock it off, man. I’m the same guy as always.”
    He shrugged. “Whatever, man. Nothing’s the same anymore, anyway. Not since Ewa.”
    I muttered a curse. “Yeah, I know. What’s going on with that?”
    Julia looked curious, as Lenny said, “They want a bunch of us to testify. I don’t talk to cops, man. But … damn.”
    “You should do it,” I said. “For her.”
    “Yeah. For Ewa.”
    “Listen, we gotta go, all right? My dad’s got something important going down.”
    “I didn’t think you even talked to him.”
    I shrugged. “Things change, man.”
    “All right, stay cool.” As we started to turn away, he said, “Hey, Crank. Can I bum a couple dollars? Old times’ sake?”
    “Sure.” I passed him a couple dollars, and we headed into the station.
    Julia waited until we were at the platform before she asked, “What was that all about?”
    I frowned. I didn’t like