John, Sue and Bob entered the living room, turned on a side light.
“I can’t believe our baby is gone.” Sue said, her face streaked with tears. John embraced her.
“Yup, she’s grown up, that’s for sure.” Bob said, taking a step toward Sue then back again.
“Don’t worry. Thanksgiving will be here before you know it. We can talk to her on MS Teams.” Said John, stopping his embrace and shaking Bob's hand.
“Still don’t mean we won’t miss her.” Bob said, turning away.
“Yes, yes. It’s sad, very sad.”
“I suppose this also means we aren’t going to be seeing as much as you Bob.” Sue said, dabbing her face with a tissue.
“I always appreciated you letting me come in here when I come to pick up Scarlett. I knew it wouldn’t be forever.” Bob said, looking down at his socks.
“How about a toast then? To successful parenting? Shall we raise a glass to Scarlett going off to college?” John said, going towards the drinks cabinet.
“I was going to be heading home.” Bob said, looking over at the three glasses.
“Stay for a drink, Bob. He’s right, we should be celebrating our daughter moving on.”
“So long as that isn’t an imposition.”
“No, not at all Bob. You’re invited. Gin?” John said, holding up a blue bottle.
“You know, me and Sue used to celebrate with Wild Turkey, didn’t we Sue? You got any Wild Turkey there my guy?” Bob said, walking over.
“We drink Old Forester now.” Sue said.
“Three Old Foresters coming right up.”
“To Scarlett!”
“To Scarlett!” said the others. Bob downed his whisky in one gulp.
“Come on, we’re celebrating, right?” The others obliged and John poured another triplet.
“Shall we take a seat?” John said. The three of them sat on an L-shaped sofa, with Sue sat between John and Bob.
“Will her flight have taken off yet?”
“Not yet. Say, Bob, how’s that new girlfriend you got?” said John.
“Oh, we aren’t really going out.”
“Yeah? That’s a shame. Scarlett was just saying the other day how happy you seemed.”
“John, shut up.”
“Sorry babe, I just think Bob here needs a break. Like I got a break when we met.”
“Yeah, weren’t you like addicted to phone games?” Bob said, taking a drink.
“It was online gambling Bob, you know that.”
“Yeah, and Sue rescued me. She saw me for who I really was. She allowed me to bloom.”
John kisses Sue on the shoulder, looks at her, uses his hand to tilt her chin up so that they can read each others eyes. They kiss. Bob watches, sipping the whisky, turning away. Sue’s hand reaches across the sofa to touch his. Her index finger traces his hand, squeezing the muscle by his thumb. Their hands interlink. She stops kissing John, they look at each other before Sue turns, kissing her ex-husband on the lips. At first Bob doesn’t respond, stunned at what was happening, trying to process it. He then closed his eyes and started to kiss her back. John reaches over and started to undo the top few buttons on Sue’s top, pulling it up For a moment the clothes were pulled up over her head so only her mouth was free. She felt lips against hers, whilst familiar hands stroked her body. When she could see again, she lay back on the couch as the men removed their shirts.
“Are we doing this?” Bob said, loosening his belt. Sue kissed John, he unclasped her bra, threw it om the floor. She felt two sets of hands on her, stroking her body, the taste of alcohol caught on her breath, between her lover and her ex-husband. John unzipped his jeans, she reached in and pulled out his dick. Sue looked up at Bob, watching his expression as she started jerking him off. Her other hand reached up to Bob, running a hand up his thigh, pausing, going further up and squashing his flaccid penis through his trousers.
“Are you not into this?” she asked, keeping eye contact.
“H-Hell yeah I am.” he said. Then Bob bent down and started sucking John’s dick.
“Whoa!” shouted John, backing away.
“Bob, what are you doing?!” Sue said. Bob wiped his lips.
“I thought we were having a threesome.”
“Yeah, we were about to.”
“I thought…I thought we all fucked each other.”
“No, no, no you both fuck me! That’s the idea!” said Sue, getting up to look for her bra.
“I can’t believe you sucked my cock man.”
“I didn’t know! I thought that’s what happened.”
“Do you…have anything you want to tell me?” Sue said, sitting back down.
“No! Nothing happened. Don’t tell anyone about this. Don’t tell Scarlett.”
“Why would we tell our daughter about this?”
“I don’t know. I think I’m going to leave.” Bob said. I cough. The three of them look over to me.
“You want me to drive?” I say.
“Who the fuck is this?” shouts Sue.
“That’s the guy we hired to film Scarlett’s trip to college.” John says, tucking himself away.
“Yeah, I think Bob’s had too much to drink. I’ll drive him home, get out of your hair.”
“You saying you recorded this?” says Bob, pacing toward me.
“No, no, not the whole thing, just bits. Different angles. Bloopers.”
“You’re meant to be on that plane with Scarlett!”
“Ah, no. Nope. Long way to go. I wasn’t going all the way to Denver. I thought it’d be more interesting to film her parents. I was right, wasn’t I?”
“Get the fuck outta here!” shouts Bob, throwing a cushion at me.
“We should call 9-1-1.” John says, trying to find his phone.
“Look, I’m going to leave. But before I go, I think you need to hear what I have to say. So how about you sit your stupid ass down and listen?”
“Can I get a burger?” Bob says.
“Yeah, grab us all a burger from the kitchen. John, pour me a glass of that Old Forester over there. Sue, can you put some music on? Listening to all of this in the silence has been ridiculous.”
“Alexa, play Katy Perry.”
“We aren’t listening to fucking Katy Perry, okay? Alexa, play Michael Nyman.” I say, taking the glass of whisky from John. Bob comes in with a plate of microwaved cheeseburgers.
“Okay, let me lay it out for you. Bob, you need to let the past go. You can’t keep turning up to your ex-wife’s house, especially now Scarlett’s gone. Sue, you need to cut that guy out of your life and move on. And yes, I’m talking about John. John, how can I put it? You’re not a likeable person. I get the impression you’re glad to see Scarlett leave and have this house to yourself, you bum. I’m surprised Sue is with a guy like you.”
“ha…I mean, what? Who is this guy?”
“You hired me to record your stepdaughter’s big move to college.”
“So what the fuck are you doing here?”
“Like I said, I’m surprised Sue is going out with you. Sue. Listen to me, you need to sell this dump and move to Florida. Scarlett can come visit you, you can hit the beach together, get tanned up. What do you say?”
“You need to leave.” Sue says, drinking the whisky. I shrug.
“Before I go, I gotta say one thing. You guys should be nicer to Bob. As far as I’m concerned, he’s a goddamn hero.” I say, leaving.
It was an ambiguous situation, one where nothing was said yet things were understood, albeit incorrectly. Incidents liked this played across all of the United States, with dad's walking into the kitchen of restaurants or an emoji taken the wrong way, friendships and affairs ending with the swipe of a finger. And these fingers were attached to yellow bellied cowards, balking at the simple joys of miniature illustrations to accompany words. Let us be fair to those that break the social protocol, as well as fair to those who strictly police it. Let's be fair to ourselves, as I'm sure each person is able to remember their own share of buffoonery years after it happened, playing on the mind as a sort of internal BDSM, though what some people are also calling a code. This code gave sense to life, helping to anchor those with a dark passenger to the world of the present, keeping us tethered to those around us through the worship of a totally subjective pain.
"My house is that way." Bob says. I turn to him, forgetting he was there. We're driving in the Hyundai at high speed, slipping in and out of automated traffic like oil.
"We aren't heading to your house just yet Bobby boy. You mind if I call you Bobby?" I say, turning back to the road. In my shirt pocket I awkwardly dig around for something, my elbow keeps banging on the roof.
"Sure."
"We're going to hit the club. And you'll get the opportunity to be reborn."
"Just don't tell anyone what happened earlier man, I can't believe I did that."
"Bobby, fucking relax will you? It's actually the chad move to suck a dick, shows you're comfortable in yourself, you get shit done, comprendez? I want to show you your potential. You'll rise like a fucking phoenix Bobby! Come on!"
"Fuck yeah! Let's go!" He says, clenching his fists. I throw him a bag of cocaine.
"Have a go on that, fucker. Tonight we party like rock stars!" I say, grinning at him. He snorts some coke and starts howling like a wolf.
Its 2am and we're at the rave dancing topless, lit by blue light, red light, blue light. Someone hands me a beer.
"Bobby, how you feel?" I yell over the music. Happy Hardcore is playing so loudly all voices are eaten up by the sound system. Bob is on a cocktail of alcohol, cocaine, 2C-B and peyote. I slap a few nicotine patches on his back for good measure, then go outside. I'd forgotten I was in L.A., surprised for a moment, almost panicking that I needed to escape, then regain my composure. The smoking area outside the warehouse rave had the illusion of calm, and so I acted normal, lit a cigarette, stood next to some people talking and nodding, smiling. Me and Bob had had a great night, we hit a few clubs, VIP style, before going to a casino, got turned away, ended up watching a street fight down by Venice Beach, met some cybergoths, now we were here. Bob runs out of the fire exit, looking from left to right like a cartoon character. His big black eyes finally recognise me and he runs over.
"I just smoked crack."
"Cool. You want a cigarette?" I say, offering him the pack. He takes one, smoking it energetically, telling me about how proud he was of his daughter going to college. I kept nodding, but my mind was elsewhere.
If we are haunted by our memories, yet we are our formed by our memories, are we nothing more than phantoms?
I clapped Bob on the shoulder.
"I'm going, do you want to stay or leave?"
"Ah man, are you sure, just stay for another hour or so. You ever smoked crack?"
"Nah it's cool man, I need to go. Had a good night. Look after yourself Bobby." I say. He embraces me as the uber pulls up. I wave at him through the window, then stare over the drivers shoulder as we go through the California night and all of the lights seem to bleed a rainbow storm over all and everything.
The sun was coming up. For the last few hours I had been trying to edit Scarlett's last day at home, though the footage I had shot was heavily edited with special effects and I had saved over the original files, now trying to undo the artifice with inverted manipulations, whilst attempting to revert the clips back into chronological order rather than the mess I had created. I drink a cup of Valerian tea and reflect on the evening I had. As I had been editing the footage for so long, it had almost completely replaced my actual memory of the events and so I was utterly confused what was going on. I realised I had left Bob at a rave by himself, suddenly worried that he was dead, then I relaxed, laughing at my anxiety. If Bob had shown me anything tonight, it was his versatility. You could drop him into the core of Chernobyl and he'd live like Crusoe. I bet he was curled up in bed with a smile on his lips and would wake up feeling like a newly born man. All he needed was a good night. I looked back at the footage I was editing. Fuck it. Send it. I emailed it to Sue, slapped my laptop close and went to lie on the motel bed, looking at the beams of sunlight on the ceiling. Now I was lying still I realised I was still hallucinating from the drugs earlier, and I felt good.
