333 Miles (6 page)

When Alex was five, it was an oceanfront
ranch house on the East side of Oahu, Hawaii. In the backyard,
Edward taught Alex to surf on the days when the waves were not too
large. In Honolulu, on the other side of the H3 tunnel, Alex was
enrolled in a private kindergarten where he was expected to improve
his very simple reading and math skills and hone his abilities to
interact with other children.

Probably because his family had moved three
times by his fifth birthday, Alex had never had the time to develop
a true best friend like most children had. Still, he was good with
other kids and usually gained acceptance into any group he
chose.

On the first day of the new school, Cynthia
had worried that little Alex would be upset to leave his mother. On
the contrary, he was so eager to join his new classmates that she
found herself fighting an emotion of rejection.

Alex had no reason to be afraid. In his brief
life he had always been treated like a king. His parents probably
overcompensated for their guilt at moving so much, and he won over
most strangers by learning how to look cute. With other kids, he
already understood the tactic of gaining acceptance by sharing and
taking an interest in others.

So, during the first recess at his new
school, Alex did not fret when he found himself playing alone on a
tire swing in the playground. When a new child came to join him
after a few minutes, in this case a larger seven-year-old from the
adjoining elementary school, Alex found it natural to climb off the
tire and offer it to the other child. The bigger kid grabbed the
tire and pulled it back, but did not climb on it. Instead, he
paused, looking at Alex who was watching expectantly, not saying a
word. The other child then threw the tire in Alex’s direction with
as much force as he could muster. There was no mistaking the fact
that the intent was to inflict pain. The tire struck Alex squarely
in the chest, knocking him back a few inches but not down to the
ground.

Alex took inventory of his body and realized
that he was not meaningfully injured. Unsure what to do, he simply
stared at the other boy, trying to comprehend why he did what he
did.

Chapter Eight

Sex

4:42 p.m.

“
Yeah, you're not hurting it. You're just
kinda gently batting the bunny around, you know what I mean? And
the bunny is scared, Mike, the bunny is scared of you, shivering. .
. . And you got these fucking claws and these fangs, man! And
you're looking at your claws and you're looking at your fangs. And
you're thinking to yourself, you don't know what to do, man. "I
don't know how to kill the bunny." With this you don't know how to
kill the bunny. Do you know what I mean?”

– Trent,
Swingers

With Roger sleeping soundly in the back seat,
Temecula was now in the rearview mirror and
Superman
by
Eminem had replaced Avril on the stereo.

“
Put anthrax on a Tampax

And slap you till you can’t stand

Girl you just blew your chance

Don’t mean to ruin your plans

But I do know one thing though

Bitches they come they go”

Alex: “I had a dream last night that I was A.
C. Slater from
Saved by the Bell
.”

Gary: “Were you doing it with Jessie
Spano?”

Alex: “Who?”

Gary: “You know. Jessie, Elizabeth Berkeley’s
character.”

Alex: “Oh, right. No. She wasn’t in it.”

Gary: “What about Screech?”

Alex: “Was I doing it with Screech?”

Gary: “No. Just was he in the dream?”

Alex: “Oh. No. Zack was in it briefly, but he
didn’t have any meaningful role.”

Gary: “So what were you doing as A. C.
Slater?”

Alex: “I had made this chair and attached a
bunch of helium balloons to the bottom it. I was bouncing up and
down on the chair and was going higher every time. I was next to a
large swimming pool so my objective was to go about ten meters high
and then jump off the chair into the pool. But somehow I didn’t
jump in time and the chair kept going higher and higher and I
couldn’t get off and couldn’t get the chair to go back down. Mr.
Belding was screaming at me to just jump already, but I was
paralyzed. Then I woke up.”

Gary: “Yeah, I used to have one like that too
sometimes, only without the
Saved by the Bell
part.”

The BMW followed its lane in a sweeping curve
to the right, revealing the valley holding the city of Corona. A
thick blanket of smog had floated in from greater Los Angeles and
created a ceiling above the town. Alex had no more desire to
analyze his dreams and switched topics.

Alex: “So you’ve been married like three
years, right?”

Gary: “Five.”

Alex: “No shit. Time flies. Five years? Wow,
it seems like your wedding was just yesterday. So, like, how often
do you boff after five years of marriage?”

Gary: “You are asking how often do Blair and
I have sex?”

Alex: “Yep.”

Gary: “Well, before Sarah was born it was
about twice a week, but now I would say more like once a week.
Usually it is once a week. Sometimes once a week anyways. I think.
Maybe, anyway. I don’t know. Actually, I don’t even remember what
is normal before being married. What about your latest chick?”

Alex: “The one from Dallas?”

Gary: “Yeah, what is her name?”

Alex: “Courtney. Well, it’s hard to say
because when we are together it’s like minimum three times a day,
but I tend to only see her like once every few weeks. Angela was
the last real girlfriend I had who lived in San Diego. With her it
was a solid once a day program, but we didn’t see each other every
day either. But, I think, you know, after five years of marriage,
once a week sounds like you’re doing pretty well.”

Mike: “Once a week sounds great to me.”

Gary: “Dry spell?”

Mike: “Mojave desert.”

Alex: “Are you on official hiatus clock?”

Mike: “Yeah, a few months deep.”

Gary: “What is the hiatus clock?”

Alex: “Dude, you have been married too long.
Any time you hit three months from last intercourse, you are
officially on a hiatus. It can be quite scary.”

Mike: “Tell me about it. The thing is, once I
get on hiatus I notice I start doing shit I wouldn’t otherwise do.
It’s like, if I had sex the night before, and then I meet Anna
Kournikova at the beach, I would want to determine if she has a
good personality before I am willing to even hang out with her. But
after a few months on the hiatus clock I find myself at Rodge’s bar
trying to ramp up some fat bitch who works at a Mervyn’s.”

Gary: “Maybe she could get you a discount on
a Maytag for the new pad.”

Alex: “Or some candlesticks for the dining
room. You should just get over yourself and join Match. A bunch of
my buddies at work do it and they say it makes getting laid like
shooting fish in a barrel.”

Mike: “Maybe you are right. I just feel so
stupid doing it for some reason. It seems so desperate, but maybe I
am desperate so it doesn’t matter. Anyway, it is starting to make
sense. Going out just doesn’t seem worth the hassle anymore,
especially at this age. You want to hook up, so you go out, but
lately I just feel old.”

Alex: “Dude, we are not that old.”

Mike: “Lately I feel pretty geriatric when we
go out. I mean, I don’t want to be that guy.”

Alex: “We are not that old.”

Mike: “We aren’t young.”

Alex: “Fair, but we are not that old
either.”

Mike: “It’s like, you know, when you go to
Vegas and see George Maloof out partying, and he just looks so,
just fucking old. And it’s sad.”

Alex: “Yeah, you’re right. You are sitting at
home on your couch with a forty-ouncer watching a Die-Hard rerun on
USA and he is sitting in the club partying with Paris Hilton and
Tara Reid. I don’t feel that bad for him. Give my apologies to
Bruce Willis, but there is not even a comparison.”

Mike: “All I am saying is, it is getting
tired and I almost never meet anyone anyway, so there isn’t much
point.”

“Yippee Kay-Yeah, Mother-Fucker!” Alex nearly
shouted, then continued in a more serious tone, “You are so
negative. Come on, it’s really not that bad.”

Mike: “Easy for you to say.”

Alex: “Dude, I’ve had my share of dry spells.
Plus, I am sick of all the bullshit too. I would love to settle
down with one chick.”

Gary: “Be careful, Alex. Your credibility is
already on thin ice today.”

Alex: “No, I’m serious.”

Gary: “Actually, to be truthful, it had been
once a week, but for the last couple months I have been pretty much
cut off completely.”

Alex: “Are you talking about Blair
again?”

Gary: “Yeah.”

Alex: “Oh. Why, what happened?”

Gary: “You know, sometimes outside factors
interfere. It’s just temporary. I think it will blow over
soon.”

Mike: “Like what outside factors?”

Gary: “Well, if you must know, Blair found my
porn stash and she wasn’t at all happy about it. She has been
applying sexual sanctions ever since.”

Mike: “Sanctions never work. Just look at
North Korea.”

Gary: “Well, in this case I would have to say
they are pretty effective.”

Mike: “No, it is stupid. It’s just going to
drive you to cheat.”

Alex: “Anyway, that sounds like bullshit. I
mean there isn’t anything wrong with having some porn. It’s a hell
of a lot better than most of the dirt-bags out there looking for
the real thing.”

Gary: “That was my point, but she didn’t
exactly see it that way.”

Alex: “I mean, I could understand if it was
something super-pervy like
Tiny White Holes and Huge Black
Cocks
or
Barely Legal
or something like that, but
otherwise where’s the harm?”

Gary paused. A few seconds later he said
softly, “Well, yeah, that was sort of the thing.”

Alex, excited, raised his eyebrows and turned
his head to the right toward Gary. “
Huge Black Cocks?
” he
asked, sounding like a five-year-old shyly asking if he was going
to get a puppy for Christmas.

Gary: “No, closer to the
Barely Legal
,
but let’s just leave it at that.”

Mike: “Dude, I didn’t know you were a
pederast.”

Gary: “Let’s just forget it. It wasn’t kiddy
porn or anything.”

Mike: “Eight year olds, dude!”

Gary: “Very funny, Mike.”

Just then Nick Lachey’s
What’s Left of
Me
started to play in the car, providing Gary with a welcome
exit from the conversation.

Mike: “What the fuck is this?”

Alex immediately reached down and fumbled
with the iPod, hitting fast forward as quickly as possible,
thankful to hear Too $hort’s
Good Life
start.

Gary: “Take it easy on him, Mike. Alex can’t
help it if he secretly wants to be Nick Lachey.”

Alex had little choice but to give himself a
jab to end the conversation: “Pre or post Jessica?”

The comment elicited mild chuckles, and Gary
looped back to the previous conversation from before his rather
unfortunate porn admission. “So, do you think things might get
serious with Courtney?” he asked Alex.

Alex: “No. I doubt it. She is cool, but I
don’t really feel like it has legs. Also, there is this weird thing
with her where it seems her head is always facing a bit to the
left. It bugs me. Perhaps the chick who came down last month from
San Francisco. She was pretty incredible, but we have not been able
to schedule another time to meet.”

Mike: “Megan?”

Alex: “Um . . . yeah, Megan. G-Balls, check
this out. I met this chick last year at Bay to Breakers when I was
wearing my Super Dave Osborne costume. I had not seen her since
then, but we emailed occasionally. Last month she flew down to see
me but paid for her own flight. I pick her up at the airport and we
go straight back to my place and boff all night. We spent the whole
next day at the beach but were running late so all we had time to
eat for lunch was Taco Bell. She has two Mexi-melts and a
Nacho-Supreme with no beans and a Diet Coke. Probably about $4.75.
For dinner we went to The Cove but, get this, she paid. After, we
go home and watch
Top Gun
on DVD but end up getting naked on
the couch before Kelly McGillis does in the movie. Her return
flight was early in the morning and then she’s gone. It was unreal.
My CPL was about a buck fifty which is simply unheard of.”

Gary: “CPL?”

Alex: “Cost Per Load, dude. I mean, usually,
I am well into the triple digits. Lately it is even worse
sometimes. This was brilliant. I mean, a dollar fifty? She may has
well have paid me.”

Gary: “So you define the potential for a
long-term relationship based on how little it takes to get your
rocks off? You could go to Tijuana and probably find plenty of
girls to help you out for a few bucks.”

Alex: “No, that isn’t what I meant. She was
really cool. She has a lot of other great qualities also. I mean,
not even counting her body. I just wanted to point it out because I
thought it was unique.”

Gary: “Well, it sounds like you are still
having fun with the single life.”

Alex: “It is okay. Sometimes it is a lot of
fun. Sometimes I wake up hung over next to a girl I wish was
something she isn’t and it feels very empty. To be fair to Mike’s
point, the whole going out and getting wasted thing may be close to
running its course, though I maintain we are not that old.”

Gary: “Okay, I think we can agree we are no
longer young, but are not old either.”

Alex: “Fair enough. I don’t know, man. I
mean, a lot of times I feel like my life should have some other
direction or focus. Maybe something real? But I just have
absolutely no idea . . . what it could be.”