Gently Used: My Summer in the Gutter, by Jordan Martich

7/31/2019 Gently Used: My Summer in the Gutter, by Jordan Martich

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by Jordan Martich

My Summer in

the Gutter


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Tis is dedicated to the friends and family who have seenme through the dark spaces. I can never repay you.


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In June 2011, my summer courses at Ball State University in Muncie,Ind., were almost complete. I was 21 and had a weekend ree ohomework, so I went to see my riends in Broad Ripple, a youth-lled

suburb just north o Indianapolis. Te metal band that I had been playingguitar in or more than a year, Nautilus, lived in a house close to the Broad

Ripple bars. Aer picking up my girlriend o one year, Jen, we went to thehouse to see what we could make o a Tursday night.

I wanted to see my riends band play at a venue in downtownIndianapolis. Everyone else wanted to go to the bars on the Broad Ripplestrip, where awul people could dance to awul music and drink cheapbeer. Jen stayed with the rest o the band, and I drove to the show, knowingI could meet up with them later on.

As I drove, I thought about how alone I was, even with a girlriend. Iwas the only one in my group o riends or the band who was interested insupporting other musicians. Te others wanted to drink and explore thesame alcoholic boundaries we had been pushing or years.

At the bar, the bands that played were antastic. I had played with myother band, Fangace, on the same small stage beore. Te room was tinyand crowded. I closed my eyes and let the music soak into my body. Tesounds were original and impressive. I made as many riends as I could

at the show, but I still elt like an outsider without my riends or the bandthere. I wondered how seriously we could be taken as musicians i theynever went to support the other bands in Indianapolis.

Aer the nal band played, I said goodbye and drove back to BroadRipple, parked in a space by the White River, and walked to the bar. Iound my riends at the back o the bar standing quietly in the crowd and


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sipping $1 beers rom plastic cups. Te bar was dim, and lights rom the

dance oor lit our aces in the surrounding crowd. A strobe blanketedthose dancing in quick bursts o bright white light. I elt like I would get aheadache i I kept my eyes open or much longer.

I leaned in between Ricardo, the other guitarist in Nautilus, and Ryan,the bassist.

Wheres Jen? I asked.Teir eyes went to the dance oor. I saw her bent over in ront o Eric,

the singer or Nautilus. She and Eric had dated a couple o years ago. Tey

ought a lot during the relationship, and eventually both had moved on.Now that Eric was in the band and Jen was with me, they had been seeingeach other more oen. I watched her grind against him on the dance oorand elt a surge o rustration. I ordered a drink and stood with my backto the dancing. I tried to distract mysel in the back-and-orth shouts thatpassed over the music.

Aer the song, Jen stumbled toward me and said hello.

How was the show? she asked.It was ne, I said. Are you all right?Im going to buy everybody another shot. Want one? she pulled her

mothers credit card out o her wallet.No thanks. Are you sure you want to spend that much money?I dont care. Ill deal with it when the bill comes.She turned away. I wanted to ask her about Eric without sounding

jealous or aggressive. I it was truly just another riendship coming back

to lie, that was ne, but I was worried that she was developing eelings orhim again. I reached or her shoulder to stop her. She elt my hand, jerkedaway rom me, turned, and glared with disgust. Tat look made my heartstop. In that single maniestation o rustration, Id become that type oguy that I never wanted to be. I was jealous, aggressive, and belligerentlytrying to express my eelings in the wrong time and the wrong place. Ispent the rest o the night chain-smoking in the corner, away rom the

group. I ignored Eric, araid I might do something Id regret.We le and drove to her mothers house in Carmel, another suburbarther north o Indianapolis and our hometown, to spend the night. Jendidnt say a word; neither did I. Our relationship was already strained bydistance and the inadequate amount o time I could spend with her, andnow I had to think o a way to apologize or what Id done in the bar.

Te next day, I woke up early and read in her living room. I thought


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about everything that made the two o us dierent and wondered how we

got along at all. She didnt like to read, didnt play an instrument, didntwrite or paint. Id known her or more than six years and cared deeplyabout her, but the things that I was passionate about werent important toher at all.

Jen awoke with a hangover. She smoked outside in the rain and thenjoined me on the couch. We sat and watched reality television togetherwithout saying a word. Te rain outside had turned a bright summer dayinto gloom. I knew something had happened, but I didnt know what

came next.Im sorry that I was so weird last night, I said.I was being weird too, she said.Jen broke down. ears glossed her eyes over as she listed the reasons

that she needed to be on her own.Im young. Were young, you know? She curled into a ball on the

couch, pulling her knees tight to her chest. Im not in the right mindset

or a relationship. I just dont want to drag you down with me.It was clear that she wanted to end things. She tried to convince me thatit wasnt about another guy, specically Eric, and I wanted to believe her.I became desperate, trying to persuade her to give me another chance. Ibegan hating mysel or every aw that I imagined she saw in me.

So are we breaking up? I said.I guess so.I stood up and walked to the ront door, but she stopped me rom

opening it. Mascara bled down her cheeks and stained my white -shirtin uzzy, dark blotches.

I just dont want to hurt you, Jordan, she said.You wont, I said.I drove to the liquor store and bought a bottle o Evan Williams. Jens

identity crisis paralleled my own. I was going to start my nal year ocollege in the all as a magazine journalism major. I had changed my major

three times since I started college and still had no idea what my planswere. More than anything, I wanted to play music or a living, but becauseo school, I didnt have time to devote to bands the way that my peers did.As riends started booking tours and getting attention rom record labels,I elt insecure about my own abilities. I I was going to do what I love ora living -- play music -- I would need to make drastic sacrices like theyhad. Without a girlriend to keep me occupied, I elt like I was wasting


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time academically. I wanted to drop out o school.

Te only place I could think to go was Broad Ripple. I went straight tothe bands house and drank the whiskey with Ricardo, one o my closestriends or years. He tried to cheer me up.

Dude, youve got the rest o the summer to do something new, he said.I know, but I didnt seem to know anything anymore.Ricardo didnt know else what to say. He slapped me on the back and

held out the bottle o whiskey.

* * *

Jen spent a lot o time with the band and our riends in Broad Ripple.Each weekday meant a dierent bar with a dierent drink special. Stuckin Muncie or summer classes, I imagined my ex-girlriend grinding withguys on the dance oor nightly.

I drank mysel into oblivion. I quit sleeping. One week later, summer

school ended. I had to leave Muncie or ear o boredom and loneliness.I went to band practice in Broad Ripple on Friday, aer the nal day oclasses.

What would you guys think about me spending the rest o the summerhere? I asked Ricardo and Ryan. We were taking a break rom bandpractice outside.

Yeah, I dont care, Ricardo said. Where are you going to sleep? Teoor?

I guess so, I said. It doesnt bother me.Later that night, Ricardo and I went to the store or groceries. We

walked around, and he picked up things rom the shelves as he saw them.In the home-urnishings section, Ricardo stopped to sit on a uton.

What do you think? he asked.About what? I asked.Im gonna buy this thing. Its really so, and that way you wont have

to sleep on the oor.Dude, you dont need to do that. Im seriously ne on the oor.No, we need one anyway. He lied a box and hoisted it onto his right

shoulder.Ricardo paid or everything, and we went back to his house to set up

the uton. We put the rame together on our knees, helping each otherassemble the larger pieces.


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Tank you, I said. I wish I had money to help on this thing.

Dont worry about it, he said.We nished and walked down the street to the bar. I bought Ricardoa drink to thank him. Tat rst night on the uton, I elt like I belongedsomewhere. Even though things were alling apart around me, I hadriends who would help keep me together.

Sel-destruction was all I could accomplish or the next monthand a hal. I had enough money saved to last me until late August, andI planned to use it on nothing but cheap booze and cigarettes. Te idea

was to purge whatever weakness had made me react to the breakup sosensitively. I used alcohol to push mysel into and through the pain,hoping that my landing on the other side meant saety and sanity.

* * *

On the Fourth o July, Ricardo and I went to a party at a riends house. I

started drinking whiskey as soon as we got there because I knew Jen, Eric,and the rest o the band were on their way. Ricardo and I sat by the pool.So youre doing okay then? Ricardo asked. He had been worried

about me lately. Id been heavily drinking or a ew weeks, rarely stoppingor sleep.

I dont know, I said. Tings are going to be ucked up or a while, youknow?

Well, I got your back. Tis is pretty shitty.

I guess. Its like, what was the point o the past year i Jen and I werentgoing to work out? What have I been doing in school when I could havebeen playing guitar with you dudes?

Youre almost done, though. Youre going to have a degree.Yeah, but is that going to make me happy? I opened a bottle o beer

with my lighter and threw the bottle cap into the pool.Ricardo nodded and sat back in his chair. Is this making you happy?

We drink a lot, and thats ne, but ... I dont know.I pointed with my opposite hand to the beer I was holding. Tis makesit harder to realize just how unhappy I am.

We le the conversation at that. People started to show up, and theparty was soon in ull swing. I nished the bottle o whiskey and startedon a six-pack o beer. Jen and Eric arrived together, and I ignored them asbest as I could. Eric had brought a gallon o grain alcohol mixed with blue


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Kool-Aid, which he sat on the counter in the kitchen. Already drunken, I

decided that drinking as much o it as I could was a great way to passive-aggressively deal with the tension between us. While Eric was turnedaround, I began pouring shots o the mixture and taking them.

Oh, dude, do you wanna do some shots? Eric asked.Yeah, man. Ill pour you a ew, I said.We took more than I can remember. Tings started to get blurry. I went

outside to smoke a cigarette and stand by the pool. Someone put musicon, and I wanted to dance. I threw down my glass and stomped around

on the broken shards bareoot. Friends pulled me o the mess that I hadcreated, sat me in a chair, and checked my eet or substantial injuries. Ididnt care. Later on, I dared anyone who would listen to shoot reworksat me in the yard.

I woke up the next morning and tried to stand, clutching my swellinghead. Sharp pains shot up rom the bottom o my eet, and I rememberedsomething about dancing rom the night beore. My legs were covered in

shallow bruises, and the cuts on my eet began to bleed. I ound socks.Ricardo came downstairs to explain what had happened.My headache was tortured with thoughts about the breakup and my

idiotic behavior the night beore. I elt like I had been used by Jen or wasjust lling in or Eric while they took a break. I wondered why I hadntseen the breakup coming sooner or, darker still, why I had ever believedthat my relationship with her would last.

* * *

My Ball State roommates and I were moving to a new house in Muncieat the beginning o August. I drove to Muncie the aernoon beore to packup my old apartment and move everything. I packed my things quickly,throwing clothes into a garbage bag and ragile items into boxes. I threwout all the papers, assignments, and worksheets that I had completed in

classes the previous semester.You dont look so great, my roommate Justin said as we packed up thekitchen.

I know, I said. I havent been sleeping.What have you been doing? Ive been so bored up here.Sorry, man. Just playing guitar and going to the bars.Have you been writing?


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Not really. I cant make mysel start.

Justin and I had lived together or three years. He was majoring increative writing at Ball State. We traded our work back and orth, trustingeach others opinion more than any class workshop. He was quiet andreserved, enjoying solitude while I thrived on the chaos. We knew eachother in high school but didnt become close until college when we shareda dorm room and then an apartment bedroom. Justin was consistentlyrational and had helped me to remember my sel-worth when I elt down.

Still stuck on Jen? he asked.

I dont know, I said. Her and Eric have a thing. Its weird.Seriously? Tats so shitty.Yeah. Well, everyone says that theyre just hanging out, but theyre

always together.I didnt tell Justin that they had been coming to the bands house in

Broad Ripple more oen. I didnt tell him that when they came over Iignored them and played guitar in the basement alone. Ricardo would call

down the stairs or me to come with everyone to the bar, and I would sitat the other end o the table. Jen and Eric would leave together. My riendswould assure me that nothing was going on, but we all knew.

Justin and I went back to packing. We moved some boxes and thesmaller urniture into the new house. Drenched in sweat, we drove toa restaurant or margaritas. All o us were entering our ourth year ocollege, and we shared our conusion about the uture. Outside at a table,the night air cooled us.

I just dont think that I want to do anything that Ive learned in college,I said.

Even writing? Justin asked.No, Ill keep writing. I dont like doing journalism though. I can do it,

but it doesnt make me happy. Teres too much bullshit involved.Everything is ull o bullshit, though. What can you do that makes you

happy?

Exactly. Except that, with music, I enjoy the bullshit. Getting uckedover by the venue owner, gear breaking, being poor, dealing with peoplesegos -- its all stu that I like to do, like in a sadistic way. I sucked downthe rest o my margarita and poured another.

You mean masochistic, Justin said.Right. Even writing has bullshit that I like to deal with. I just want to

be happy with mysel and what Im doing.


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Everyone wants that. It doesnt always happen.

* * *

Nautilus played at Te Emerson Teater in downtown Indianapolisearly in August. Tis venue used to be one o the biggest and most popularwhen I was in middle school and high school. I drove down rom Muncieearly in the aernoon to load our equipment into the cars. My youngerbrother, Andy, met us at the house in Broad Ripple so he could ride with

me to the show. He was 18, soon to turn 19, and was as invested in musicas I was. His band rom high school had zzled out, but he was adamantabout starting another. He had come to watch us play because he enviedus.

I parked around the corner in ront o an abandoned house. We got outo the car, and I threw the keys to my brother.

ake care o these while Im gone, I said. Te beers in the trunk, and

everyone can have one. Just dont be stupid.I gave my riends a stern look to tell them that they were in charge oAndy and that I would blame each o them i he somehow got into trouble.

I wasnt excited to play the show. A ew days beore, my riend Brett toldme his band was kicking out its bassist. He played in a group called StoneTroats. Each member was more talented than we were. Te record theyhad nished was already getting attention rom record labels and bandsaround the country. We sat outside watching people walk by.

You should totally play bass or us, Brett said. He jumped up and puthis hand on my chest.

I wish. Are you serious? I said.Sort o. You can probably keep up.Maybe.No, really. You could do it, man.I dont have any bass gear.

Brett thought about this or a second, Sell your stu, he said. Or Illbuy you some.I cant make you do that, I said. Plus, Ive got a ull year o school le.Fuck school.Exactly.Beore Nautilus played at Te Emerson, I sat on the side o the stage

and sipped whiskey rom a water bottle, handing it to Eric once in a while.


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We joked around. I wanted to let him know that whatever was happening

between him and Jen, I was trying to move past it. Aaron, the drummer,walked over to us looking disappointed.We have to sound check in 10 minutes, Aaron said.Did he say that wed get paid? I asked.

Not this time, Aaron said. He picked up the cases that housed hisdrums and loaded them on the stage.

We moved our gear quickly and efciently. It was something that wedpracticed by playing shows beore. Te guy who ran the sound and set up

the microphones seemed surprised by how easily we set ourselves up. Butthe sound check was painul. Te guy running the mixer had no idea whathe was doing. He took 25 minutes to gure out how the drums shouldsound and just as long to balance out the volume o the guitars. Whenwe were nally done, the older band began loading its gear in behind us.Te other bands members could tell we were rustrated with the venuealready.

We dont play here very oen because o these guys, the guitarist toldme. Its just not the place it used to be.Te engineer had done an awul job at mixing everything together or

our set. Chaos blared at each o us, and we struggled to keep in time withone another. We botched our rst song. I stepped up to the microphoneto ask or more o the drums and more o Ricardos guitar in my monitor.Aaron complained that he could hear only himsel and the vocals. Tesound guy said he xed the problems, and we got ready to play the next

song.Tings didnt improve, and we each made serious mistakes. I was

embarrassed. Aer Song 5, I tore my gear down as ast as I could.Te rest o the band was pleased, but I knew I hadnt perormed as well

as I wanted. Te entire night elt like a waste o time. I thought that we wereready or this, but we hadnt developed to that point. I thought about everynight I had spent drinking and not practicing. I elt like the perormance

we gave was my responsibility. School took up most o my time. I theband suered, I naturally blamed mysel. I music was something I wouldpursue or the rest o my lie, I would have to improve and nd a bandwilling to do the same.

We walked to the bar near the bands house when we got back to BroadRipple. I drank in silence and listened to the guys tell our riends about theshow. I elt disgusted or being a part o the group and knew I would have


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to make signicant changes in my plans or the uture.

I wondered how possible it would be to play bass in Stone Troats. Teywere in the middle o booking a long tour, and it seemed like exactly whatI needed -- to get out o the Midwest and play music, or a ew weeks, oreven orever.

* * *

Early the next morning, my mother called. I was hung over, but the

pain had become amiliar. I still elt the swarm o bees angrily stingingmy head rom the inside. I still elt my stomach melt and churn. I still eltthe terrible aches wrap and squeeze like chains around my limbs. Lately,though, I hadnt been able to sleep past 9 a.m., even aer going to sleep at5. Te amount o alcohol that it took to get me to bed kept growing whilethe amount o rest I was getting shrank.

Hello? I said.

Jord. Where are you? my mother said.Broad Ripple. Sleeping. Why?Well, Im sorry. I have to tell you something. Its about your cousin

Steve, on your dads side. Mike and Cathys son. Remember him?Maybe. I dont know. I stacked loose change rom my pockets on the

table.You havent seen him in a while, I dont think. Well, you know they

have three kids and live just outside o Chicago? Remember, I gave you his

number when you went up there to see your riends?Sure. I pulled two crumpled bills and some coins out o my jeans and

threw them on the couch, counting the change.His wies name is Amy. Was Amy. She died. I dont know all o the

details yet, but something about she drowned.Wow. Tats terrible. I stopped counting, unsure o what to say. I

looked out the window at the trafc.

Te uneral is in Elmhurst in two days, and were driving up. I knowthat we dont see your athers amily very oen, but I want you to come.Yeah. Yeah. Ill be back tomorrow. Tats just awul. I had a little more

than $3.It is. It really is, sweetie. You know that we have to leave early-early, so

no going out to the bars and drinking. Okay?I know. Tats ne. Ill talk to you tomorrow.


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My dads amily was not very close. Steve is the son o my uncle Mike,

my dads older brother. He lived in a suburb o Chicago. He and Amy werein their 40s, raising three children ages 10 and younger. I hadnt seen himor his brothers in a decade. It seemed as i we had nothing in common, butI couldnt stop thinking about how tragic Amys death was.

I spent the rest o that day pensively. I thought about my own problemsand how they had taken such a rm hold on me. Tey were so small incontrast to this. I had become so sel-destructive over details, which wouldade away in time.

Te next day, I went to my parents house. I checked my bank accountand used most o what was le to buy a bus ticket rom Chicago toIndianapolis in three days so that I could stay with my riend Haydenaer the uneral. We lived in the same neighborhood in high school andhung out a lot during our years there. Since then, I had gone up to Chicagoto see him every once in a while during college. I dated his roommateChristina briey during my sophomore year, but the distance wasnt

worth the relationship or either o us. Instead, Christina and I developeda strong riendship. Once I began dating Jen, the visits to Chicago becameless requent. I wanted to change that. I let Hayden know we were on ourway, and he told me that he was excited to see me again.

Te drive to Chicago with my amily was quiet. My brother listenedto music in his headphones while I read a book. My mother asked mequestions about the classes that I would be taking soon.

So do you know what youre going to be doing yet? she asked.

Yes. Mostly journalism classes, but I have a couple o creative writingones. I slipped a bookmark in the book to keep my place.

Good. We need to think about applying or internships or nextsummer.

I know.Well, have you thought about it?No, not really.

Were going to talk about it when you get back tonight then. Yourenot going to Broad Ripple right away, are you? She turned around in thepassenger seat.

Im staying with Hayden or a ew days, I said.My mother stared at me in disbelie. Why didnt you tell me?Because I didnt want you to worry.Did you even bring clothes or anything?


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I pulled my backpack rom between my legs. I have everything that I

need.I know that youve been out o it the past ew months, but you need tobuckle down soon, she said.

Once we were through Chicago, everything thinned out into suburbsand orest. Elmhurst was a small town to the west. We approached agated community. Te houses were neat and identical, and the lawnswere a perect shade o green. We ound the church in the middle o theneighborhood.

My mother scowled at me or lighting a cigarette as I got out o the car.Do you have to do that right now? she asked.

My aunt and a ew cousins stood by the parking lot near a smallplayground. Tey greeted us, and we caught up with them beore goinginside.

We ormed a line in the viewing room. Steve was receiving people atthe other end. Pictures o Amy and the amily were pinned to a bulletin

board that stood just inside the doorway. I had never seen any pictureso Steves children or his amily. Te three children in the pictures weresmiling wide with their parents. Near the back o the room, a group oadults had surrounded the kids and were trying to make them smile now.Teir aces stayed solemn.

Steve was devastated. His eyes were red and sunk into his ace. Hischeeks were wet with tears, and he occasionally pulled tissues out o hisjacket pocket to wipe them away. Behind him stood his parents and Amys.

My mother began crying at the sight o Steve. She hugged him and heldhis orearms as she spoke.

Oh, sweetie. I am so sorry. Oh, honey, youll get through this, shesaid.

Steve searched but could not nd a response. He looked at Andy andme then back to my mother.

Tese are your cousins, Jordan and Andy, she tugged at his sleeves and

pointed at us.Steve was shocked.You havent seen them since they were tiny, but Jord is 21 and Andy

is going to be 19 in a week. My mom put her hands on our shoulders tomake the designations.

Wow, this is just amazing, Steve said.He looked us up and down, holding his hand out or a handshake. I


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took his hand and leaned orward into a hug. I pat him on the back a ew

times and stepped back. Steve hugged my brother and then my dad.So are you both in school? Steve asked.Ball State or journalism, I said.Ivy ech, but Im transerring to Ball State soon, Andy said.Steve nodded. We hugged my aunt and uncle and shook hands with

Amys parents. Around the viewing room were more poster boards withpictures o Amy. Every picture was o her smiling, laughing, or makingsomeone else do both. I could see Amys body in a cofn in the back o the

room, but I avoided walking near it. I stayed near the ront o the roomwith the pictures.

We were asked to take seats in a large room adjacent to the viewingroom. Tere were two sections o seats packed close together with a narrowgap between them or those walking to the ront. Men stood against thedoorway at the back o the room, with more standing behind them in theviewing area. As the room lled, the chatter and noise increased to a roar.

A reverend took his place behind the podium in ront o the altar, andthe entire room hushed. He welcomed us and began talking about Amyslie, her amily and riends, her work, and her spiritual lie with the church.I learned that she was generous, compassionate, and kind.

Amys boss, a slender man in an expensive suit, spoke at length abouther. I hadnt realized that she was an international head at the companyshe worked or. She traveled around the country and the globe on businessand was like amily to her co-workers. Her boss told stories about Amys

sense o humor at the ofce, her loving amily lie, and the amazingaccomplishments she made through her work. Te company would payor a new house or Steve and the kids and college tuition or each o thechildren. Tey were covering the uneral costs and had set up a und inAmys name to help the amily while Steve was nding a job. Amy hadbeen the breadwinner in the amily while Steve enjoyed his time as a stay-at-home dad.

Troughout the eulogy, I elt my own problems slip away. I wasbeginning to realize that a change was necessary and possible. Nothingas tragic as this had happened to me. o give up on mysel because o aew shallow issues and a girl was ridiculous. Te service pushed me intoa mature clarity.

Te reception was enormous. My amily, my uncle Pete, his wie Mary-Kay, my aunt Carolyn, her daughter Elizabeth, and Elizabeths son Jake


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were the rst there. Te dining room had vaulted ceilings with chandeliers.

At least 100 tables were set up, with 10 seats at every table. Six long tablesull o ood served by caterers lined the walls o the room, and a bar lledthe ar corner rom where we entered. We sat down and marveled at thesize and quality o the reception. Te company must be paying or all this,we guessed. We were alone at the table or a long time, watching the dooror more people to arrive.

Te sta stood in its positions, ready or what would surely be anenormous crowd. Each o them stared straight ahead, except or the

bartender who was reading a book. I decided to test how the amilialboundaries had changed since I had turned 21.

Is this an open bar? I asked.Everyone turned to me with dierent expressions. My mother was

disappointed, my athers eyes looked upward in thought, and his amilylooked at me conused. Tey didnt know i I was legally allowed to drink.

Only one way to know. I it is, grab me a Coors, Pete said.

I walked to the bar and asked the bartender i it was an open bar. Hesaid that it was and asked to see my drivers license. He was reading aGabriel Garcia Marquez book, but I couldnt tell which one.

Good book, I said.He nodded and smiled. I ordered a Heineken and a Coors or Pete.Its open bar. I sat down at the table and handed Pete his drink.My mother rolled her eyes. People were now walking through the doors

and claiming tables around the room.

He can have a couple o drinks, Vicki. Youre just driving home aerthis anyway, Pete said.

No. Jord is actually going to go stay with some riends that he has inChicago, my mother said.

Oh yeah? Where at in the city? Pete said.Wicker Park area, I said.Cool. Pete nodded and went back to eating.

My aunt Carolyn wanted to know what I was doing in school.Journalism, I said. Magazine journalism at Ball State. I mostly write.She turned and asked Andy the same question.Acting, I think, he said. Im at Ivy ech but transerring to Ball State

soon.We sat back and I drank my third beer slowly. Pete wanted to know

more about school.


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So what do you want to do as a journalist? he asked.

Write, I said. Well, Id rather do music. Journalism isnt really mything.Ten why get a degree in it? Carolyn asked.I stared down at the white cloth on the table and spun my beer bottle

around with one hand. Tats a good question.I told him that he should have gone to school or music, my mother

said. He really is talented.I cant read music, though, and you dont get a degree to play

independent music, I said. You just do it.Te discussion ended.We gave our condolences to Steve one last time. I drove us into the city.

My mother was too araid to compete with the dense Chicago reewaytrafc, and my ather wasnt about to spoil an already dampened moodwith road-rage expletives.

* * *

Hayden was at work when I got into his part o the city. Te HumboldtPark and Wicker Park neighborhoods were home to most o the riendsthat I had made on my visits to Chicago. Christina was at a bar aroundthe corner, so I set o to meet with her aer saying goodbye to my amily.We caught up with each other and talked about school and riends thatwe knew. We walked to her apartment so I could change out o the dress

clothes that I had worn to the uneral. I told her about Amy and Steve andthe uneral. We talked about how our summers had been and about howaraid we were to be entering our nal year o school.

Are you going to get a job in Indiana? she asked.Im not sure, I said. Id rather move someplace else.Like move up here? Tat would be un.Maybe. I just need to get away rom home.

We sat on her couch with their dog, Pig, between us. Pig was allingasleep as we spoke, curling slowly into a ball. Te conversation was startingto make me nervous and anxious. I tried to keep my voice calm.

I mean, youre going to have degree, Christina said. Im sure youcould work or a newspaper or whatever.

Im a magazine major, though, and I would hate to work at a newspaper,I said. Its not that I cant do it. Its just not as ullling as I thought it


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would be, you know?

Yeah, but you have to get a job anyway. You should take what you canget.Tats the compromise. Your level o happiness is directly opposite

your level o obligation to pay rent.Hayden came home, and we hugged each other. He showed me the

tattoos he had gotten since the last time I saw him, and I showed himmine. Te three o us went to a bar around the corner, played pool, anddrank. I told him about the uneral, my summer and how much our

riends in Indianapolis had stayed the same. Hayden knew the riendsthat I had been surrounding mysel with, and he knew why I had been sosel-destructive.

You need to get out then, man, he said. Its not healthy to be aroundall o that.

I know, I said. I want to quit school and travel. Or at least ree up timeto do everything that Ive been putting o.

Its one more year. Power through it.I agreed. Christina went home early, and I met some o the riends thatHayden had made since I stopped coming to Chicago. We le the bar, andI slept in an empty room in their apartment on an old mattress.

Te next day was Haydens day o. We started drinking at 4 in theaernoon. Hayden helped me orget about school and the career choicesthat I was regretting. Every time I ell back into being melodramaticHayden would pull me back into having un.

Te sun went down, and we went to the dive bar down the street. Moreriends showed up to the bar to see me while I was in town. I caught upwith my old riends Seth and Lei over drinks. Seth was working or hisdad in the city, and Lei was working at Victory Records, a label that I hadollowed closely in high school. I had bonded with them over a sharedlove o music. Tey were both talented musicians and passionate aboutturning their talents into a career. Seth apologized or not coming to see

me the night beore. He had broken his cell phone and wasnt able to callanybody.We walked to Lei s avorite bar and got drinks. It was packed with

people at close to 3 a.m. I talked with one o Christinas riends, Katie.She was being harassed by some aggressive guy and asked i I would walkher home. We headed out without telling anyone where I was going, withKatie leading the way. At her apartment, we watched television in silence


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or an hour beore she stood up.

Well, Im going to get to bed, she said.Oh, yeah. Right on, I stood as well and looked through the window at

the street below.You know how to get back, right? she asked.I was araid. Te walk home would take more than an hour, and it was

already aer 3 in the morning. Whatever plan I had when I walked thisgirl home was unclear now. Katie continued to watch old MV showswhile I struggled to push mysel back into sobriety.

Katie stood and walked to the kitchen.Do you want another shot beore you leave? she asked.Probably not. How do I get back to Haydens? I ran my ngers over

the spare key that he had given me, as i it would come to lie and lead meto the apartment.

I went into the kitchen, and she began to describe the route I shouldtake. Aer each street name that I recognized there would be two that I

did not, but I typed the street names and directions in a text message andsent it to mysel. Katie poured hersel another shot and one or me.

Seth walked in the door as we lied the shots rom the counter. He hadcome back rom the bar with one o her roommates.

Can you get us home, buddy? I said. My bus leaves in six hours.For sure, dude, Seth said.Katie poured two more shots o rum. We took them and went on our

way. Once on the street, I turned le; Seth turned right.Katie said to head this way, I said. Where are you going?She doesnt know where she lives, man, Seth said. rust me. I know

where I am.I had to trust him. Seth had lived in the city or more than two years.

We walked through the neighborhood until the houses and apartmentsthat lined the streets became storeronts and parking lots. Te trees andbushes in the Wicker Park neighborhoods were gone, replaced by trash

and the homeless.A ew cigarettes later, I had to stop.Are you sure you know where youre going? I asked.Seth turned to me and pulled on the back o his hair. He took a nal

drag rom his cigarette and threw it into the street.Not exactly. I think were too ar north. He went to light another


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cigarette but his lighter wouldnt produce a ame. He threw it into the

street. I handed him mine.We walked south, or at least what we guessed was south. Seth didnthave his phone and mine didnt have the GPS technology that could havesaved us. I reerred to the directions that I had sent mysel, but we weretoo ar out. Each street name seemed more absurd and removed romthe area that Seth and I were amiliar with. We passed groups o peoplestanding outside o bars and houses in circles. Tey went silent, and wewalked past with our eyes straight ahead, our hands umbling with knives

in our pockets. A ew times they yelled aer us. What the uck are youlooking at? or Keep walking gay-ass bitches!

When they yelled, we would walk aster, but neither o us had the energyto run or ght. Cars with underglow lights and shiny rims slowed downas they drove past us. We changed directions a ew times, always on Sethscue. We tried to nd streets with more lighting -- and more witnesses. Wetried hailing a cab, but the cab drivers ignored us, when we saw any cabs

at all.My phone died as we approached a bridge. Beneath it and on theopposite side were ve homeless people sitting around a trash-can re.One stood up and embraced the concrete wall, took a hand, and smearedsomething dark brown in a curve.

A ew blocks later, we passed under another bridge and spotted aChurchs Chicken. Te intersection was Fullerton Avenue and ClybournAvenue, near the north branch o the Chicago River. Once we reached the

corner o the intersection, everything smelled like ried chicken. We wereready to give up. I walked to the bus stop bench on the other side o thestreet and sat down, prepared to die in ront o a ast-ood restaurant.

Im so ucking hungry right now, Seth said.He walked to the dumpster behind Churchs.Tats ucking disgusting, dude. Are you serious? I said.He was. Seth tried to open the lid, but I heard a banging sound and the

rusting o chains.Its locked. Damn it! He slammed the padlock into the side o thedumpster and came to sit next to me.

We watched the sun rise over the banks o the river and then over theChicago skyline.

Im sorry, buddy, Seth said.I just cant miss the bus, I said.


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We sat in silence. Cars pulled by as the light changed. More and more

trafc appeared as the sun brought morning into the city. A taxi stopped atthe red light, next to the bus stop. I looked up and ran to it. I knocked onthe passenger side window. I heard the door unlock and slid inside. Sethgot in back and we pulled out.

Division and Damen, I said.Youre pretty ar out, eh? the cab driver asked.I laughed and nodded. Yeah, crazy night.We paid and got out at the corner. I walked past Haydens apartment

and straight into a gas station and bought a bag o chips and a jar o salsa.We sat on Haydens couch and ate as much as we could. I went to sleepin the back room, and Seth ell asleep on the couch near the ront door. Iplugged my phone into an outlet. It was 7:30 a.m.

* * *

At 9 a.m., my phone rang. It was an alarm to remind me that my buswould be leaving or Indianapolis in an hour. I sat up and slapped myselin the ace a ew times. Seth was still asleep on the couch with the bago chips in his lap and his hand in the bag. I got dressed and packed myclothes into my backpack. When I le the back room, Hayden was pouringme a cup o coee.

When does your bus get in? he said.en. How long would a cab ride take? I said.

Fieen, maybe 20 minutes. Youll be ne.Seth woke up and rolled over on the couch. He moaned and rubbed his

eyes.Hayden, I got so lost last night, Seth said.Yeah. When did you guys get back here? Hayden asked.7:30. Seth is an idiot, I said.Fucking dumbass. You live here, Hayden said.

Seth laughed. He sat up on the couch and continued eating chips. Ihugged them both and le. Outside, it was sunny, and the city boiled withpeople. I hailed a cab aer a ew minutes o walking.

Greyhound Station, I said rom the back o the taxi.I paid the driver and walked to a convenience store near the bus stop.

In my pockets I ound $2.70. Te store was busy, so I squeezed throughto the back to nd a Gatorade and a bottle o water or the bus ride home.


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I stole two granola bars and stood in line to pay. One o the employees

approached me rom the side, and I elt my stomach turn.Sir, your bag is open, she said, pointing to my backpack.I swung it around and saw that the underwear I had worn the day beore

were hanging out the side, clenched in the zippers teeth.Tanks, I said. I smiled casually and tucked them inside.A crowd had already gathered by the side o the street where the buses

came to drop o and pick up passengers. I smoked and ate until my buspulled in.

Tose with larger bags put them into the storage space beneath the bus,while those traveling light lined up by the door. A driver appeared romdown the street and shook hands with the driver getting o the bus. Heread my ticket, and I took a place near the back by a window. Most othe passengers sat near the ront and talked to one another in clusters.Children ran up and down the aisle once we were all seated. Te driver putthe bus into gear, and we made our way out o the city.

I didnt sleep on the bus. Sleep doesnt come when there are still thingsto take care o. I lay back in my chair and stared out the window at clearblue skies. I tried to rest, but sleep eluded me. In my backpack were twospiral-bound notebooks. I took them out along with pens and markersrom the smaller pockets.

I wrote the previous nights adventure and umbled with the meaning.Something practical must have been learned rom such a dynamicexperience, but the lesson seemed spread out.

As I jotted down whatever wisdom I could extract, the next two hourswere a blur o scribbled writing. I penned thoughts on death, music, andthe orces that shape our universe. Te past came out on the page in themoments that I could remember.

* * *

Te next ew weeks were intensely productive. I wrote daily at a coeeshop in the Broad Ripple strip, sitting alone in a corner or most o everyaernoon. I saved my money and cut my drinking o at a reasonablepoint when we went to the bars or would drink water instead. I learned tothrive on chaos because it was all that I had ound.

wo shows were booked or the weekend beore school started upagain. Nautilus played on Saturday, and Fangace played Sunday night. I


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was excited to be perorming with both bands in one weekend. It was the

perect way to get wild beore school started again.Stone Troats asked Nautilus to play at their CD release show. Tey hadrecorded an amazing album in Nashville and were ready to send it outright in Indianapolis. I was honored. Tese guys were all ar more talentedthan I was, and they proved it on the rough tracks that I listened to. It wasthe type o music and the group o people that I wanted to be a part o asa musician.

Te other groups on the bill were also riends o ours. Tese bands had

more connections than Nautilus and had been playing around Indianapolismore oen. Playing the show meant that we had an opportunity to networkwith the people who ran the underground music scene in the city.

Te band was already at the show when I pulled up. People stood aroundoutside smoking cigarettes in the heat. Te crowd was made up o mostlyother bands, but more kids showed up as we loaded our stu in. I helpedunload our gear, and we began setting up on stage to play rst. Brett, the

Stone Troats drummer, helped me li my amp on to the stage.Seriously, Im so glad you guys are here, he said.For sure, dude, I said. Im proud o you guys.He gave me a hug and went to sit behind the -shirts and CDs that they

had or sale.I nished setting up and looked around the venue, a new place that

had opened in downtown Indianapolis called Te Hoosier Dome. It wasa medium-sized storeront in a beat-up strip near Fountain Square. Te

stage was hand-built. Te naked wood grain supported three speakers orthe microphone and all o our gear. Aaron, our drummer, nished settingup and laid our CDs and stickers out on a table by the door. I sat next tohim.

So youre doing okay, right? he asked me.Yeah, Im ne, as I said it, I knew that the answer sounded hollow and

that Aaron would want to be sure.

Cmon, really? Eric and Jen, that whole mess. Tat stu would piss meo.Forgive and orget, I guess.When I came back rom Chicago, that all seemed insignicant. I knew

Eric and Jen were going to get back together, and I wanted to be happy orboth o them. I just didnt want to be a part o it anymore.

Te crowd came inside, and we played our set. Te songs were much


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tighter and more dened than when we had played at the Emerson. We

were all sweating, but the heat drove us to perorm even wilder. I threwmy guitar up in the air and caught it a ew times. We all thrashed aroundlike maniacs and had as much un as we could.

We nished and loaded our gear to the side o the stage or the nextband to start setting up. My shirt was completely soaked with sweat. Itstuck to me all over. Brett came up to me with one o the Stone Troatsshirts. He held out his arms and squeezed me, liing me o my eet.

Dude, Im super sweaty, I said.

I dont care, man, he said. You guys rocked.He gave me the Stone Troats shirt, and I wore it proudly outside.Te band wasnt around aerward. I smoked a cigarette and talked with

some o the other musicians about booking new shows. When I went backinside, only Aaron sat behind the table with our stu. Our gear still sat tothe side o the stage. We watched the next two bands perorm and toldeach group that we enjoyed their set. Te rest o our band nally showed

up out ront to smoke cigarettes. Tey had been drinking in their cars andwere now looking or a liquor store. Tey asked me what I had been doing.Watching talented people play music, I said. I walked back inside as

the next band started.Aaron had to get home to his daughter. He took the CDs with him, and

I stood with the new riends I had made at the show. Te rest o the bandstayed out ront smoking or in their cars drinking. Tey came in to watchStone Troats play their new album in its entirety but stood at the back

with their arms crossed, watching the crowd go nuts.Aer the show, I thanked Stone Troats and the other bands. I went

home that night disappointed in Nautilus. Instead o actively participatingin the music scene, they had chosen to drink.

Bands like that dont last long in any local music community.Te next day, the day beore the all semester at Ball State began, Fangace

was booked to play a show at a local record store in Muncie called Village

Green Records. Id been going to shows there since I was a reshman andloved to have conversations with the owner about anything music-related.Te lineup was mostly noise rock and experimental groups. Fangace tin with them better than most o the other bands that wed played with.

I tried to nap in the aernoon but couldnt. Te band that bookedus, Humans, were already over at the Fangace house, where aylor, thedrummer, and Dylan, the bassist, lived. We practiced or the rst time in


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ve weeks and nailed all our songs.

Te audience gathered on the lawn in ront o the store or the show.Many o them looked like reshman, but amiliar aces came to say helloas we set up in the grass. When more people showed up, the record storeowner came up to me.

Youre in Fangace, right? he said.Yeah. Were ready to go whenever, I said.Cool. Ive heard good things about you guys. Go ahead and play when

you want.

I plugged my guitar in, and we started the set. Kids pushed one anotheraround and stomped through the crowd. I told some jokes to the crowdbetween songs and received both blank stares and laughter.

Beore the nal song, I wanted to talk to the resh aces in the audience.We have one more song, I said. I want to thank every reshman and

everyone watching a show at Village Green Records or the rst time.A red bowl was passed around or donations to the touring bands and

the store. Tis place is incredible or a lot o reasons, but the biggest isthat this is where local music lives. Come oen and come open-minded.I got to play with my other band last night, and I get to hang out with youall right now. Tanks or making that possible.

We played the song and ended the set with Dylan throwing his bassguitar into the air while I let the amp eed back as I shook my guitar. Hisbass crashed to the ground, and I turned o the amplier to an applaudingcrowd. We tore down our stu and loaded it into the cars. Te other bands

helped us carry the gear and told us that they loved our set. Te recordstore owner said there was pizza inside or the bands that played. I ate andwatched the sun set while the other bands played.

* * *Te rst class o my nal year at Ball State started at 9 the next morning.

I had set my alarm in advance so that I wouldnt orget, organizedeverything in my backpack, and loaded one o the smaller pockets withbrand new pens. All 18 credit hours worth o courses were written on asheet o paper along with the corresponding times and room numbers.Te nal band nished at 11:30 p.m. A group went out to a bar downthe street to continue discussions about bands, the local music scene, andplan uture shows.


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We sat at the bar and drank the cheapest drinks oered. Some o the

bands played laid-back games o pool in the corner. Tese were riends Iadmired and musicians that I respected. At 2:30 a.m., the bar closed, andwe all said goodbye to one another in the dark parking lot. I walked homealone and collapsed onto my bed, sore and ull o excitement or the nextschool year.

Te alarm went o on time, but I instinctively hit the snooze buttonuntil waking up was absolutely necessary. My throat was raw. I struggledout o bed. Te muscles in my arms elt sti as I got dressed. I made the

20-minute walk to campus and began my senior year o college.


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Gently Usedby Te Invictus Writers is licensed under a Creative Commons-Atrribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License

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Gently Used: My Summer in the Gutter, by Jordan Martich

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Transcript of Gently Used: My Summer in the Gutter, by Jordan Martich