the approach was punctuated by a boy, taking a seat beside me. somewhere in his tweens. freckles and sandy blond hair. shorts and a white Jay Z shirt. feet planted on the closest set of steps. forearms resting on his knees.
i nodded. “hey there.”
“hi.”
i repositioned my cigarette to keep the smoke out of his face.
“what are you doing here?” he asked.
“just sitting.”
“I mean, you know… all over here?”
“wedding.”
“congratulations.”
i coughed. “oh, no. god, no. not mine… thanks, though.” i brought the bottle to my lips, rough taste of plumbs scraping my tongue. “you?”
“family reunion. sorta.”
“sorta kinda?”
“i’m adopted.”
“congratulations.”
the boy began to nibble on his fingernails. “why?”
“odds are, it could’ve been a lot harder if you hadn’t.”
he looked mildly unconvinced.
“or not,” i amended. “can’t claim to know the future.”
“Carl says nobody can…” no time to ask who Carl was. “what do you do?”
“that’s kind of a sanitized question for a kid your age.”
“i don’t know how old i am… they say 11.”
“once knew a girl by the name of Zelda Calhoun. same dilemma. she was adopted, too. from Ethiopia”
“ok, but… what do you do?”
i sighed. a kid his age, no matter what his age; there was no way around it… “i am a writer.”
“cool.”
“sorta.”
“sorta kinda?”
“published a few books. young adult market, for kids ‘round about whatever age you are… and they didn’t do so hot. couple of years ago, my publisher dumped me. tried shopping myself around. didn’t get any bites. went indie, self-published online. then i went to a wedding.”
“why?”
“believe it or not, i was actually invited.”
“why did your publisher dump you, i mean?”
“wasn’t making them any money… truth be told, i even lost them a couple of figures…”
the boy scrunched his face. “weird. sounds like they don’t like books very much.”
“most of them love books…” i took a drag, washed the smoke down with more wine. “just so happens they love their jobs a little more. everyone kind of has to... can’t say i wasn’t warned.”
“i think i get it.”
“when you do, feel free to explain it to me.”
he seemed ok with keeping it a secret. which was fine. i kept smoking. listened to the music wafting from the lodge. a slight breeze hit us from the right.
i fought the baffling urge to ask him if he had brought a sweater.
“why are you here?” i asked.
“family reunion, i told you.”
“no, i mean this time. the other here. out here.”
“so, i’m adopted.”
“yeah.”
“so, it’s… ok, don’t think i’m weird.”
“Carl says nobody can claim to know the future, kid. sorry.”
“i have a crush on my cousin…” he glanced over his shoulder, cloak and dagger. “like, a serious crush.”
“ah…” i took a sip of wine. “so it’s actually ok, because she’s not actually your cousin, but it’s not actually ok, because for all intents and purposes, she actually is.”
“for all intensive purposes, yeah.”
nice to know i wasn’t the only one who had spent most of his life fucking up that particular idiom.
“i don’t know what to do,” he said.
“probably nothing you can do,” i said. “sucks, i know.”
“do you have a girlfriend?”
“ex-girlfriend.”
“sucks.”
“i know.”
“so. no advice?”
“none.” i put out my cigarette. stood up. “sorry, kid. you caught me at a particularly useless moment in my life.”
“that’s ok,” he said. rising to meet me. “i gotta go, too.”
we shook hands. another whistle of wind, lifting our goodbye up towards a waxing moon.
“i hope i get a chance to read your book,” he said.
“anyone ever publishes it on paper, i’ll send you a copy.”
“you don’t know where i live.”
“then i’ll send you 5, hope one of them gets to where it’s supposed to go.”
he thought about this. “where do you live?”
“about to move to New Orleans.”
“neat. what are you going to do when you get there?”
again, there were some things you didn’t tell a kid his age… “going to wait until i turn 35.”
“then what?”
“then everyone else gets to keep waiting, i guess.”
“well…” the kid began to head up the stairs. “it was good to meet you.”
“hey.”
he stopped, turned around.
“you’re going to be all right,” i said. maybe lied. “there’s lots of other cousins in the sea.”
he laughed. “ok. i think i get it. thank you.”
i gave him a tiny salute.
he trotted back inside.
i knocked back the rest of the bottle. drained it.
set it down gently, out of sight.
had a session with my lips.
met my mind halfway and settled on a half-smile.
***
i stared through the ballroom windows. party at full throttle.
behind me, the concrete patio was mostly empty. what few smokers were left in the world had already formed their own tribe. tightly bound in a corner. laughing between taboos.
couldn’t bring myself to reintegrate, alone at that enormous, starched domino.
i took my place at one of the bar-height tables placed around the perimeter. had a smoke. glanced down and found a glass of red wine on the ground. courtesy of some compassionate traveler. i staked my claim, helped myself.
gave it a chance to settle.
i heard Chester’s voice from across the way. “yo.”
my people had found me.
or most likely, just happened upon me.
Chester, Korben, Alley, Milo, Laura, and Joyce were streaming out through ballroom doors.
Chester was holding a pair of snifters. sizable pours of brown nectar swirling in each one. “they’re not allowed to serve shots, so i just got them to pour us 2 aquariums of Jack…”
we passed around the twin grails of sour mash.
2 rounds, and we were halfway through our enterprise. in an unspoken agreement, Chester and i took custody of the drinks. split into smaller groups. took the bullets, let the others avoid certain overdose.
Laura asked me for a smoke. odd request for a black belt, but i was happy to comply.
“i want you to dance with me, Lucky,” she said.
i glanced at Milo. he smiled, shrugged.
either he had come a long way from his days as a jealous youth, or i had simply fallen to the point where i was no longer a threat to any man on the face of the earth. it was anyone’s guess.
i had another taste of Jack. “Milo and I actually used to be quite the ravers.”
“yeah?”
“oh, it’s true,” Milo said.
“how very true,” i added. “probably the only kids in the whole joint who were completely clean. no booze, weed, no hallucinogenics. just twistin’ the night away.”
“why don’t you dance anymore?”
i shrugged.
“what happened back on ‘05?”
“mm?”
“we were talking earlier at The Pour House. about you moving down to New Orleans… Milo mentioned something about what happened in ‘05…”
i lit my own cigarette. “if i happen to be around next time we meet, i’ll be sure and
tell you all about it.”
she frowned.
“but, seeing as how my time on this planet is severely limited…” i polished off my drink, blistering cascade coating my stomach… “yeah, why not? i suppose i’m curious to see if i can still cut a rug.”
Laura beamed
my body was hit with shudders from the liberal intake of Jack Daniel’s.
“you ok there, champ?” Milo asked, squeezing my neck.
“yeah.”
“you actually eat anything tonight? or even yesterday?”
oh, shit…
***
my entrée had been sheltered by a steel cover. i removed the protective dome. placed my hand inches above a pristine arrangement of broccoli, spinach, wild mushrooms and polenta.
still warm.
couldn’t say i was hungry. couldn’t say how any of these people managed to jump around with so much food packed into their bodies.
i replaced the cover. picked up my plate and skirted the dance floor.
walked out of the ballroom. found the nameless nanny, still seated by the fireside. texting away, plugging in breakneck letters.
“hey.”
she glanced up.
“i had some things to take care of, and didn’t get a chance to eat my food. still got some things to take care of. wondering if you were still hungry.”
she stared, determined to see right through me. “that’s your thing? you get me leftovers?”
“i certainly ain’t getting anything else right.”
“no doubt about that.”
“well…” i hiccupped. “oops, then.”
hit the bathroom. found a stall and got to my knees before the porcelain throne. dish held aloft upon my fingertips, a little trick from days running food at a zero star dive in North Carolina. certain I was about to throw up.
didn’t happen.
nausea subsiding.
took it as a good sign, until i blacked out and came to in the middle of the dance floor.
***
the band was covering Let’s Go Crazy.
stood to reason i had made this song the exception to the rule. as far as dancing went, rock n’ roll remained a mystery to me. never could figure the tempo. but Prince wasn’t just rock n’ roll. he was Prince, and my one chance to make good on my promise.
not that the years hadn’t taken their toll.
my brain had lost ground control with my feet. thighs and lower legs acting as though they had never met. arms like forgotten extremities, tonsils in place of elbows. shoulders a pair of confused appendices. pure disconnect. mass confusion, no translation between my body and the beat.
Nick caught sight of my flailing, grinned. assumed i was doing a bit. with his own body thrashing about like a wounded seal, he called me over.
“i’m a white asshole with no sense of rhythm!” he shouted. “please help me clap!”
i managed to slide next to him. took hold of both his arms and brought his hands together in time with the music. decent cover for the netherworld i had fallen into. kept it up for as long as i could, knowing the act would grow stale within a minute.
paraded back across the floor. a prancing meat puppet. despairing. laying to rest yet another bit of existence i had once enjoyed without question. one more nail in the coffin.
song coming to its climax. relief flooding in, along with the ugly truth.
i wasn’t just older.
somewhere along the line, i had become absolutely unrecognizable.
Laura threw her arms around me, as everyone stumbled around in a drunken orgy of applause.
“Lucky, that was hilarious!”
it was a fitting end to denial, as the band thanked us and called curtain.
the house lights came on.
ballroom reduced to the rowdy murmurs of a crowd refusing to come off their cloud.
all remaining characters gathering on the floor for a group photograph.
i positioned myself somewhere towards the back.
heard rumors of a karaoke party going down at the resort bar.
remembered to grab my bookbag. bottle of wine adding a little extra heft.
i followed the mob through the doors.
caught a staffer leaving the bathroom. carrying a plate covered by a steel dome, food long since cold. shaking his head with overt loathing.
before I could raise my hand to take the blame, Milo and Korben were by my side.
the 3 of us headed towards the next leg of the race.
***
the resort bar was a dimly lit, classy recreation of a classic pub.
a little too polished for its desired ends.
Milo and I ordered a couple of drinks. beer, gin and tonic.
he insisted on paying. i was too far gone to protest.
we settled at a table for 5.
drank in silence, while a crew of drunken astronauts set up the karaoke unit. meddling with wires. microphones. doing all they could to sync speakers to a flatscreen shining a non-responsive, hideous shade of blue.
“so…” Milo had a sip of beer. “any of these ladies tonight catch your eye?”
“couldn’t catch a cold in a crowd like this.”
“please to forgive if i’m interrupting your conversation with nobody else.”
“so?”
“so answer my question?”
“could you rephrase it in a way that doesn’t –”
“are you keen on any of the females we have been thusly surrounded by?”
i took a sip of gin. “maybe… maybe one.”
“which one?”
“i’ll give you 3 guesses. for each guess, i will allow 3 yes-or-no questions, among which 2 of them must be –”
“girl in black gauze.”
“yes.”
“not as though i was asked to build the pyramids.”
“yeah, we know each other. i get it.”
“she’s with someone.”
i forced myself to review the classics. glanced across the room. same girl, same unique sample of reality. same gentleman couched at her feet. how they had managed to replicate the play so perfectly was a question for higher authorities.
“never wait for a sure thing,” Milo said.
“what’s that?”
“that’s what you used to tell me. all those years i would stay in my seat, hugging the wall. all freaked out at the prospect of failure. never wait for a sure thing, you’d tell me.”
“yeah?”
“not like you don’t remember.”
“and now, i suppose you’re going to tell me i should follow my own advice.”
“nope…” Milo smiled. “you don’t have a chance with that girl. that much is certain.”
“so this lecture about how i used to tell you to never wait for a sure thing…?”
“ain’t lecturing,” Milo said. brought his bottle up for a toast. “i’m bragging.”
i met his glass with a puzzled clink, and downed half of mine.
a single ice cube riding the wave.
***
Chester and Korben took a seat. followed by Alley and Joyce.
Laura swooped in and took a few pictures with her phone. fodder for Facebook.
Nick and Kayla joined the party and kicked off karaoke-fest.
fast as they had joined us, Chester and Korben fled the nest. took to the music. took over. gave the crowd a well-oiled rendition of Hey Ya!
down to Milo, Laura, and myself.
“you look so good together,” Laura said. she stood, positioned her phone a few inches from her face.
according to the statutes of our relationship, neither Milo nor i smiled.
“and even still…” Laura sat back down. “you make for a perfect picture.”
“hey, ya,” Milo said, raising what was left of his beer. “here’s to a perfect picture.”
we toasted to that, bottoms up.
“fuck New Orleans,” Laura said. “come back to New York.” br />
“what the hell am i going to do in New York?”
“who cares? come live with us. we’ve got plenty of room –”
“technically, no, we don’t,” Milo said.
“we could make room,” Laura insisted. “at least for a while. give you a chance to get back to where you once belonged. i know a few people. get you a few jobs. you could write.”
“won’t work,” i said.
“won’t work,” Milo echoed.
“we’ve done this before,” i said.
“but that’s not fair,” Laura insisted. finished her beer. picked up her phone and thumbed through the pictures. “i only just got here.”
i searched my gin for some answers.
“Mexico,” Milo said.
Laura glanced up from the screen. fighter’s eyes remembering what it meant to stay focused. “yes. it’s time isn’t it?”
“mind if i ride back to the house with yous kids?” i asked.
“sure thing.”
i ducked out of the room. let them say their goodbyes without my presence looming.
hung in the hallway. killed my drink as a pair of staffers wheeled yet another table past.
on to the next room.
on to the next event.
all things on reset, come tomorrow morning.
***
i sat on the bench outside the house, while Milo and Laura loaded their rental. this way and that under a floodlight that remained mercifully free of bugs.
didn’t take more than 5 minutes.
Laura hugged me. sweet embrace. not a bad lady in an otherwise battered world.
“come see us…” she broke away. “hell, come with us…want to come to Mexico?”
i smiled. “at this point, i’ve squandered the few spontaneous trips allotted…”
“if you’re around next time you see me, promise to tell me about them?”
“promise.”
“very good… i’ll be in the car.”
caught Milo’s adoring eyes as he watched Laura hop into the driver’s seat.
it was something of a reassurance. those two would be ok, with a little fortitude and a whole lot of luck.
Milo stepped in for a tight hug. “be good, bones.”
“yeah. always. you too.”
he pulled away. “want to do me a favor?”
“don’t know.”
“want to try?”
“sure.”
Milo reached up to straighten his bowtie. remembered his tux was already tucked away. “try forgiving yourself for a thing or 2.”
“it’s all coming apart, Milo.” i reached into my jacket, pulled out a pack. “clearly, i haven’t paid my tab, and until i do, there’s no way home.”
“it’s all in your head.”