I kept staring at her, but now I looked annoyed.
"Now what?" she said.
"You've been my mentor for how long now? Two years? And you're only telling me about movie moments now?"
"Well, it's kind of implied in everything I told you before."
"Yes, but I didn't know there was an actual technical term."
"A term I basically just made up."
"That's completely beside the point!" I said. I kept scowling, determined to make her squirm. Alas, Vernie rarely squirms.
"Let's move on," she said. "What ideas do you have so far for a single-location script?"
Reluctantly, I withdrew my scowl.
"Well," I said, "my first idea was a script called Couch Potatoes. It's about four guys who are roommates."
"Why are they all guys?" Vernie asked.
"Good point. Okay, three guys and a girl."
"That's almost worse. The whole Smurfette Principle."
I smiled, impressed that Vernie knew about the Smurfette Principle (which is the story trope where there is only one major female character, usually a completely stereotypical one, among a large cast of diverse males, like in The Fantastic Four, Guardians of the Galaxy, The Avengers, The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, Now You See Me, Harry Potter, Fast & Furious, Winnie the Pooh, The Smurfs, and, oh, a zillion other things).
"Okay, it's four guys," I said, and Vernie nodded. "And they're jerky to the woman who lives next door. But she turns out to be a gypsy, and she curses them so they can't get up off the couch until they somehow solve the gypsy's curse."
She stared at me without saying a word.
"It's not that bad," I said. "Is it?"
"Apart from the romaphobia?"
Nate interrupted us, so I didn't get a chance to ask what romaphobia was.
"Screw the gas fire pit — Ruby and I built a bonfire down on the beach," he said. "You guys wanna join us?"
I felt a little judged by Nate, that he had to build a "real" fire. Even so, I looked at Vernie. "Shall we?"
"Oh, I don't think so," she said.
"Really? Why not?"
"Because I saw that stairway down to the beach. I'd never make it at night."
"Sure, you will. I'll help you."
"No, you and your friends go, and I think I'll turn in early."
* * *
The rest of us did go down to the fire on the beach, and we all smoked a little weed (which, for the record, is perfectly legal in Washington State).
But Kevin and I had flown up from California on Wednesday, and we'd had a zillion things to do to get ready for the weekend, and now we were both exhausted. So we retired early too, right after midnight.
When we got to the master bedroom, Kevin disappeared into the bathroom to get ready for bed. I stopped, looking around the room.
Something didn't feel right. I couldn't figure out what it was.
It was definitely an incredible bedroom. It had a high ceiling, a king-sized bed, and a separate seating area next to a gigantic window facing the water. I'd slept in nice bedrooms before, but only when my parents were paying, never with Kevin. Was that what felt weird — the fact that Kevin and I had never slept together in a room this nice? We'd been living together for more than a year, and sleeping together for longer than that, but it had always been on futons in cheap apartments or tiny bedrooms, not massive bedrooms with en-suite bathrooms and Jacuzzi tubs.
"This place is really something," I said, even though I wasn't sure Kevin could hear me in the bathroom with the door closed.
I stepped up to the window to look outside, but it was dark now, so I was mostly looking into a big black void.
"What?" Kevin said behind me.
I turned and suddenly my view got a whole lot better: he was standing there in a tight t-shirt and boxer briefs.
"Nothing," I said.
"How do you think it's going?" he said, flossing his teeth.
"The weekend? It seems like it's going great. Great speech, by the way. Oh, hey, isn't it fun the way Nate and Ruby are hitting it off?"
"Yeah," Kevin said, distracted.
"But I've heard that before, how a lot of straight guys and lesbians really click. I think I even read how their brains are a lot alike or something. Like straight women and gay guys, except straight guy/lesbian relationships aren't a media stereotype, so you never hear about 'em."
"Hmm."
Kevin wandered back into the bathroom to brush his teeth. That's when I realized what was wrong with the room.
"The room has no blinds or curtains," I said.
"What?" Kevin said from the bathroom.
"Nothing," I said, but I couldn't help but think it was going to be hard to stay sleeping once the sun came up the next morning.
He joined me in the main room and started searching through his overnight bag.
"Damn it," he said.
"What?" I said.
"I forgot my charge cord at my parents' house."
"It's okay, we can share mine."
"Fuck, fuck, fuck!"
I didn't say anything for a second. Then I said, "What's wrong?"
"I just told you!" Kevin said.
"I mean in general. It seems like something's been going on with you today. It's not about our getting married, is it?"
Kevin froze for a second. Then he sighed and sank down onto the bed. He looked like one of those abandoned barns about to collapse.
"No," he said. "Well, yes, but it's not about getting married. I just want everything to go well. I mean, it's our wedding. The whole point of a wedding is for two people to stand up in front of their friends and family, and tell everyone how much the two people love each other, how important they are to each other. That's how people know to take them seriously as a couple, that they are a couple."
I nodded vaguely. Everything Kevin said made sense.
"But if everything is all messed up," Kevin said, "what's the point in doing it?"
"What makes you think things'll be messed up?" I asked.
"I just checked the weather. It's supposed to rain this weekend. And, I mean, a lot."
"Kevin!" We'd agreed we weren't going to check the weather forecast since (a) there wasn't anything we could do about it, (b) we had a back-up plan where we moved everyone inside if it rained. Kevin and I disagreed on weather forecasts anyway: I'd always thought they were mostly bullshit, more like silly horoscopes than actual science.
"I know, I know," Kevin said.
"I'm sure everything'll work out fine." When he didn't answer, I added, "Do you want a blowjob? Help you relax?"
(Incidentally, did other couples talk like this? I sort of doubted that very many straight couples did, but I figured other gay couples might. Then again, I'd never really been part of any other gay couples, not long-term anyway, so I didn't know.)
"Thanks," he said, "but I'm too tired."
I nodded, then I headed into the bathroom to do my own thing. After that, I turned out the light and climbed into the bed next to Kevin.
The mattress was so big that it took me a moment to find him.
"Hellooooo?" I said, making an echo with my voice, pawing through the covers. "Is there anyone in here?" Finally, I found him, lean and tight in his soft cotton undies.
I cuddled up next to him. "It's going to be okay," I said. "I mean it. This is going to be the best wedding of all time."
He didn't answer.
I put my hand on his forehand. "Nod if you hear me."
He laughed and nodded.
Then, of course, I slipped my hand down into his boxer-briefs and found that he was rock-hard.
"I thought you said you were exhausted," I said.
"That was almost three minutes ago."
I laughed and started kissing him.
And just for the record? I still wasn't feeling any weirdness about the wedding, getting cold feet or anything.
In fact, if anyone was being a little neurotic, it was Kevin. How nice was that for a change
?
CHAPTER FOUR
Sure enough, the sun shining in the windows woke me up early the next morning.
What's the deal with curtain-less bedrooms anyway? Over the years, I'd ended up in more of them than you'd think, or bedrooms with these worthless, gossamer-y curtains that didn't stop any light at all. This always seemed vaguely hostile to me, like the morning person who decorated the bedroom was making a little moral judgment on the idea of someone actually sleeping in. Or maybe they couldn't even conceive of the idea that the whole world wasn't exactly like them, up at the crack of dawn.
But at least the sun was shining, which meant the weather forecast had been wrong about the weekend rain, so far anyway.
Beside me in bed, Kevin somehow slumbered blissfully on. I didn't want to wake him, so I quietly dressed and slipped out into the main house.
I was the only person up, and everything was so incredibly quiet. It wasn't like being back in Los Angeles with the never-ending sounds of the city: the whoosh of the freeways, the sound of the sirens.
I made a pot of coffee in the kitchen, then carried a cup out to the deck.
It was still cold out, and everything was wet with morning dew, but the view of the water was fantastic. I loved the way it filled the channel, perfectly hugging the bays, glistening like liquid eternity. The air smelled of pine with a salty mist from the water below me.
But as I sat there, I realized the island wasn't as quiet as I'd first thought. The trees all around the house creaked, squirrels skittered in the branches, and birds twittered. Down on the beach, waves lolled against the rocks (and I caught a whiff of the seaweed that had probably washed up on them).
I suddenly remembered what Christie had told me the day before about the abandoned town of Amazing, Washington.
I hadn't finished my coffee yet, but I went back into the house. I was still the only one up, so I found my jacket and shoes, and headed off across the yard, through the parking lot, to the start of that little road that led to Amazing.
The second I stepped onto the road, something seemed different, but I couldn't quite figure out what it was. The road wasn't well-used: it was just two dirt tire tracks winding through the pine trees.
I found myself growing weirdly excited. What would I find at the end? Christie had said there were ruins, but what did that mean exactly? The road was mostly covered with a scattering of leaves and pine needles, everything wet from the dampness of autumn, so the ground felt soft, and I couldn't hear my own footsteps. The forest was oddly quiet too. I didn't hear any birds or squirrels now, and the trees weren't creaking like they had been out on the deck at the house either. It felt like the forest was holding its breath in anticipation of what was going to happen next.
I picked up my pace, eager to get to the end of the road.
It turned to the right, around a bend, and then made another turn, to the left, down a hill toward the water. Now I held my breath.
I found myself facing another hill — or, rather, a rocky promontory that looked out over the water. It was rough and jagged, but still covered with trees and ferns. To the right, a flat apron of land looped around a little rocky cove. The trees and undergrowth were still thick — so thick I could barely make out the beach.
But as for the road itself, it just ended. It wasn't even a cul-de-sac. It was a slightly wider area where a car could park or turn around.
I didn't see the ruins Christie had mentioned, or any sign of the town of Amazing at all. There was only the forest.
Around me, the trees were creaking again, and waves washed against the beach. Seagulls screeched, fighting over something in the rocks.
Well, that was anticlimactic, I thought. As usual, I'd let my imagination get away from me. As for Amazing, Christie the Crackpot had probably made the whole thing up.
Still, I'd come this far, so I figured I should at least look around.
I came to the end of the road, then followed a narrow footpath down to the cove. At one point, someone had made a bunch of stacks of flat grey rocks — cairns, I guess they're called. Some of them poked up out of the sword ferns, and a few of them stuck out into the trail itself, so the path veered around them. There was something sort of otherworldly about them, and I felt a little like I was walking through the skeletal remains of a dinosaur. Somewhere to my right, a stream gurgled, but I couldn't see it through the undergrowth.
Suddenly there was someone right in front of me. I'd almost run right into them.
"Oh!" I said, pulling back.
"Russel?" the person said.
It was Min.
"Oh, my God, you scared me!" I said. She was wearing earth-tones (typical for her), so she'd blended right into the undergrowth. Plus, I'd been distracted by the stream.
"What are you doing up so early?" she asked me. She knew the hours I usually kept.
"No curtains in the master bedroom. What about you?"
"Ruby snores."
I felt bad for her, but was actually glad I'd run into her out here. As excited as I was to gather all my best friends together in one house, I'd been worried that I wouldn't be able to spend any time with them one-on-one. Min and I didn't live in the same city anymore, and I really missed her.
"Also..." she said.
"What?" I said.
"Well, there was this album back in the inn — this book of articles. It talked all about this little town of Amazing that the place is supposedly named after."
"I know! Isn't it cool? The manager told me about it yesterday. But she said the residents were abducted by aliens, so I figured she was making it up."
Min smiled sardonically.
"There were really articles, though, huh?" I said. "And did they say if the residents really all supposedly disappeared overnight?"
She nodded.
"So where is it?" I asked. "Christie said there were ruins, but I don't see any—"
And it was strange. All of a sudden I saw how this little cove, and the apron of flat land that surrounded it, was actually a pretty good place for at least a small town.
Min saw it too.
"There," Min said, pointing to the cairns I'd seen earlier.
Except that's not what they were. They were the remnants of stone foundations. The houses had long since fallen away, and at some point whatever they'd used for mortar in the foundations must have deteriorated too. So now even most of the foundations had collapsed, but a few small sections remained upright. If you connected the dots, you could see they formed rectangles — the outlines of what had once been buildings. I could make out at least three foundations, but there were probably more in the trees. There might even have been a "main street" at one point.
There were ruins here after all, really obvious ones. I'd just missed them.
It sort of gave me the chills knowing that Amazing was real. Maybe that meant the story about everyone disappearing was also real.
Where did they go? I wondered.
I wanted to ask Min, but I felt stupid. I had a way of letting my imagination get away from me. It's possible I could even be a teeny-tiny bit melodramatic, and Min had been known to (affectionately) tease me about it.
We started meandering among the ruins. Christie had said something about an abandoned well, but I didn't see that anywhere. That was all I needed, to accidentally fall down an abandoned well. On the other hand, it would definitely give this weekend some drama.
"So," Min asked me, "how are you feeling?"
"What?" I said.
"About the wedding."
"Fine. I mean, Kevin is stressed, but I'm great."
"Yeah, I sensed that. About Kevin."
"I wish I could do something," I said. "He's such a good guy. But for the time being, I'm trying to be supportive and just listen."
Min nodded.
"I liked what Gunnar said last night," I said. "About how Kevin and I first met. And how we're destined to be together."
"You so are."
I stopped at one of the stacks of
rocks — part of a foundation. I touched it with my foot, and to my surprise, a couple of the rocks fell over with a clatter.
I laughed. "Isn't that funny? It's been standing all this time, and I barely touch it and it collapses."
Min smiled, but didn't laugh. I stopped laughing too. Suddenly it didn't seem so funny anymore. I tried to rebuild it, but I couldn't figure it out. It was a puzzle where nothing seemed to fit.
"You okay?" Min said, watching me.
"Huh? Yeah. Why?"
"It feels like there's something on your mind."
Min knew me really well, and at that moment in time, it was kind of annoying the shit out of me.
"No!" I said, but maybe it was more to myself than to her. "For the first time in my life, I'm determined to not be neurotic about something. Kevin is the neurotic one this time."
"What's going on?" she said.
I didn't answer.
"Oh, come on," she said. "You think I'm going to tell?"
She kept staring at me, her eyes never blinking, a little like a Russian interrogator.
I cracked under the pressure.
Okay, yes, there may have been one little thing that had been on my mind about the wedding. But it was such a teensy-tiny thing that I really wasn't lying before when I said I was perfectly calm about getting married. It doesn't mean I'm an unreliable narrator, and it absolutely didn't mean I was being neurotic.
"It really doesn't have anything to do with Kevin," I said. "I love him completely and totally, and I want to spend my whole life with him."
"Who wouldn't?"
"I also don't have cold feet, or last-minute jitters, or anything like that."
"Of course not."
"But, I mean, marriage. What does that even mean?"
"It means whatever you and Kevin want it to mean," Min said.
"Oh, everyone always says that, but what does that mean really?"
"It means a lot," she said. I started to talk, and she interrupted me. "No, wait, hear me out. Being able to define your own marriage? That's literally what the last century has been all about. All the social changes — the whole trajectory of the twentieth century, and the twenty-first century so far — when you boil it all down, what it's really about is you and me, every one of us, being able to decide for ourselves how we want to live our lives. It's no longer up to our parents, or decided by our religion, or dictated by our communities and our government. We get to decide how we want to live our lives, all of us, as individuals. You get to decide. Rich straight white men have always been able to do that — they had the privilege to be able to choose their own destiny, to change or rewrite the rules whenever they wanted, but now more and more people can. And that is literally what this upcoming election is all about. I don't understand how more people can't see that, how everything we've all worked so long and hard to achieve, all the progress we've made—"