“I think my favorite album has always been the White album… Those songs are just incredible. I mean, it has songs like Dear Prudence, Martha My Dear, I Will, Rocky Raccoon, which are all really sweet and fun–okay, maybe Rocky Raccoon isn’t super sweet but it’s a great song. At the same time, though, it’s also got songs like Blackbird and Happiness Is A Warm Gun, which are much more serious and sad. I mean, god damn, that album has Yer Blues on it, a song that literally has lines like ‘Yes I’m lonely, wanna’ die, if I ain’t dead already, girl, you’re the reason why,’ and ‘I feel so suicidal just like Dylan’s Mr. Jones.’ Like, shit…” She thought about his question and nodded. “Yeah, I did… I mean, I knew that you were our dealer but it’s not like you were one of those scary dealers you see on crime shows. Like, I could never see you killing someone because they didn’t give you your money, you know? And I mean like, I could see you kicking the shit out of someone who didn’t give you your money and rightfully so because it’s your money but you never made me feel…afraid or anything. And you’re older than me so I always just kind of thought you were really cool. You’re my friend, not just some guy that used to sell me drugs. To be honest with you, nowadays, you’re basically my best friend..”
He listened carefully, eyebrows raising slightly as she rattled off the titles with such ease. Clearly she’d heard them many times since they last listened to them together. After his welcome ran out at Seth’s he’d never had access to the records again. He remembered every once in a while and would have someone play them off their phone while they smoked, but it wasn’t the same. He couldn’t lay out on the hardwood floor and feel the world the way he had with those records. “I remember some of those.” He said a bit more softly, but with undeniable fondness. “Happiness is a warm gun.... I liked that one the most I think. I’d...forgotten it.” He paused for a moment and then hummed a few bars before trailing off into silence. He was glad to hear that Alice hadn’t found him frightening. He’d never acted aggressive towards her, but she’d certainly seen him lose his cool a few times. Usually it was over superficial disputes though. He’d actually never had to seriously hurt anyone to get his money. Alec’s eyes widened slightly when Alice confessed how fondly she felt towards him. “Your best friend?” He was amazed. Out of all of these people? Him? It had to be some mistake. “I guess I’m your oldest friend here, so I guess that makes sense.” He smiled. “I’m sure you’re closer to other folks though. I mean your ex probably...” He didn’t even want to bring up the boyfriend. Eventually, as they continued to talk another thought occurred to him. Again he began to hum the opening bars to Happiness is a Warm Gun. “She’s not a girl who misses much....” He began to sing softly in his rough voice. He hummed a little while longer, and then faded off. “You know, that song used to make me think of us and I can’t believe I’d forgotten it...” It was like finding an old childhood journal and discovering the thing one was doing in adulthood was what one had wanted to be at the age of eight. How had he forgotten? And now here he was sitting with Alice again, thinking about the exact same song. “I mean...I know its about shootin’ up, but I think it’s got a couple meanings, you know?” Alec defended his claim a bit sheepishly, touching his face again. “Art is supposed to be thought of differently anyway...I just...always thought about you I guess.”