The Big "O": A Romantic Comedy (7 page)

“Is it yummy?” Max asked his son, “Yum. Yum. Yummy?”

“Diversify… portfolio,” the child replied. Max was frightened by baby Max's words.

“No portfolio. No baby investing,” Max said to his son and tried to wipe his son’s face with a napkin but only smeared the drying cereal on his cheeks.

“Daddy's not letting you hand him his ass in yet another arena,” Max said under his breath.

Baby Max looked confused. Max turned the TV off. He picked a stuffed baby bear off of a nearby chair. He held the baby bear and growled and tried to get baby Max’s interest.

“Grrrr. A bear for the baby,” Max said and made a real fool of himself. The baby stared.

“‘Judge me by my size, do you?’” the child said and frowned.

“Are you quoting Yoda?” Max asked his kid. Baby Max looked away from his father and refused to answer.

“Hey, Emily, the kid is quoting Yoda? What the farq?” Max shouted to Emily.

“What?” Emily shouted from another room, “I couldn’t hear what you said.”

Max sighed and then frowned, which made Baby Max laugh.

What was he going to do, he wondered, when the kid was five and already earning money, from some crazy business, maybe something online or from some kind of software, or had written his first book or something?

At the thought, Max felt intense fear.

It was like he left his body for a moment, and was looking down upon himself, smearing cereal on his kid's face. It was an idea that frightened him, the idea that, as bad as it was to fail, it would be all that much worse to fail in the presence of a genius who would know his every misstep and be succeeding in every way that he was not. This could get much worse.

Max took his child into the living room and put in a movie. He lay on the floor and stared at the ceiling and tried to brainstorm ways to increase his income.

Baby Max sat at one end of the sofa, his small arm propped upon a pillow, like a little old man, and watched
Star Wars
, over and over again.

Emily entered and sat next to her husband and smiled with delight at her quirky, fascinating child.

“Are you watching a movie?” Max asked grumpily.

“I was about to get my laptop,” Emily said. Max grunted.

Max Jr.'s lips moved with the lines said by Yoda and Hans Solo. It was clearly that he knew every word of the dialogue.

Emily got up and went into their home office and grabbed her laptop. She returned to the living room and signed into their eBook sales dashboard online. To her surprise and happiness, 'Ka-Ching!' was selling a good bit better.

She did some online marketing, including starting an online group for reader's of their first book, then grabbed her cell phone.

“Babe,” Emily said.

“Uh-huh,” Max said despondently.

“Remind me again of all the key points of our first book,” Emily said then picked up her tablet and turned on the video application. Max didn't notice and she kept things low-key as she shot video of him spontaneously talking about personal finance.

“Can you connect that to small business, for me?” she asked.

He could and he did. Completely unaware that his wife was filming him, Max totally relaxed and extemporaneously talked about money. Without being aware that he was doing so, he began to make connections between personal financial responsibility and awareness.

“So, in a way, being financially responsible is a form of evolution? A type of higher consciousness,” Emily asked.

As Max went off on a long riff and began to get philosophical, Emily realized that she should put out some of this interview right away. She quickly signed into a social video broadcasting app where she could live stream a bit of the footage.

Max was still on a roll ten minutes later so she signed into another life video streaming app. She was just in time to get Max in a funny moment, almost priceless, where he connected finance to a character from popular culture.

Max laughed and joked and quoted Yoda and waxed philosophic about life and money and the power of handling personal finance.

“Try not,” said Max, “because fiscal irresponsibility is like the dark side of the force calling, right?”

“Fiscal responsibility is a power anyone can excise and gain, and it only gets stronger if you cultivate it,” he added.

Emily laughed and laughed, yet had to agree.

“What the heck?” Max asked, “are you laughing at me?”

“No, I mean, yes... it's just so funny and true,” Emily said, “okay, can you sum that up for me?”

“Sure,” Max said and ran through it all again and it was even smoother and funnier the second time. Emily got it all on a video recording application. When he was done, and drifting off, still lying on his back on the floor, Emily stood up.

“Can you feed Max his supper, then put him to bed? I need to do some online stuff,” Emily said.

“Sure,” her husband said as she left the room.

Emily looked at her tablet and was excited to edit the footage of Max talking about finance. He was really funny.

She figured that spontaneous was better than fuddy-duddy, when it came to presentation. One thing she'd realized, in researching online marketing, was that being authentic, being honest and real, while offering something of true value to your tribe was a terrific way to connect with one's target market.

She edited the recorded footage several different ways, including making some super short, several second videos for a couple of their social networks, and another edit of the footage of Max made funny with her own voice over running commentary with a silhouette of her image, ala "Mystery Science Theater 3000".

She logged all of her online marketing efforts in a spreadsheet, where she also kept records of their growth in followers. It wasn't always easy to get hard numbers but sometimes jumps in book sales or consult requests could be fairly easily traced to retweets by large media outlets. Her object was to get several hundred thousand in most, if not all, of their social networks.

By the time she was done, she was ready for a long, hot bubble bath. She could hear that Max was already reading a goodnight story to their little guy. She popped in to tell him goodnight so that she could relax in the bath.

As she walked down the hallway to the toddler's room, she was thrilled to hear that her cell phone was already blowing up with likes, retweets, and more, as fans enjoyed Max's views on the power of personal finance.

I
SIS AND EDWARD lay on her bed, locked in a passionate embrace.

Jazz music played softly in the background. Lit by warm lamplight, from a bedside lamp with a silky pale bright gold and purple silk scarf draped over it, the room glowed gold and lavender.

They were both fully dressed, Isis in a knit long dress, and Edwin in suit pants and a collared cotton shirt, but they had their shoes off. Edwin bit her neck and began to kiss his way down from her neck to the skin between her breasts. Isis moaned with joy then turned off the lamp. Darkness.

In the master bedroom of her home, Juliette reclined in bed. Victor entered the room, wearing a silk robe, hiding some kind of sex toy behind his back. Juliette grinned.

“Close your eyes, honey,” Victor said. Juliette didn’t appear at all excited.

“Uh-huh,” Juliette replied and then did so.

Victor juggled a giant dildo and removed his robe, revealing his somewhat flabby body. He was commando except for a "sexy" backless animal print power sock covering his manhood.

“Oh, my, Juliette, oh, my wifey, oh yeah!” Victor sang, ala the lead from the musical
Bye Bye Birdie
. Juliette gave a tiny groan and did her darndest not to laugh.

“Can I open my eyes, now?” Juliette finally asked.

“Uh, yeah,” Victor said awkwardly. He struck a ridiculous pose and attempted a sexy growl. Juliette stared goggle-eyed at the freakishly large weirdly shaped rubbery thing in his hand.

“But are you gonna be sincere, my honey, baby, are
you
gonna be sincere?" Juliette teased him, mangling a line from
Bye Bye Birdie
.

Victor persevered and got in bed with the ridiculously large sex toy, a bizarrely shaped dildo.

Roll over, honey,” Victor said, attempting a sexy, commanding voice.

“Uh, okay,” Juliette said and struggled not to laugh.

For a moment he was frozen. What the hell did people actually do with sex toys? They were somehow a turn-off to him, personally. Maybe it was the synthetic quality, the sheer fakeness of the toys which were often made of rubber, plastic, or some other nasty amalgam of modern synthetic techno-freakery.

Well, here goes nothing, he decided.

Victor lightly tapped her ass with the freakishly giant dildo, uncertain about what exactly to do with the thing. To his immense surprise, Juliette's body began to shake immediately upon physical contact. Victor got excited, thinking that he was turning her on. He tapped her ass more firmly. He didn’t see her bite her fist to keep from laughing out loud. Her back shook more.

He stroked her back with the dildo. Seriously ticklish, Juliette laughed hysterically and flipped over. Unable to stop herself, Juliette dissolved into riotous laughter at the weird dildo. Then, giggling, she poked her hubby. He didn't smile and instead pursed his lips with irritation.

At his expression, she threw her head back and laughed and, putting her hand up to push her hair out of her eyes, still laughing hard, she accidentally punched Victor pretty hard in the nose.

Victor deflated instantly and tried to hide the giant dildo.

“I’m sorry, Victor,” Juliette gasped, “did I hurt you?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Victor said and threw the dildo at the wall hard.

Due to the weird gelatinous rubber which the dildo was made from, the sex toy stuck to the wall. The dildo hung there, quivering, almost as if it were alive. Plop! With a peculiar noise it became unstuck and slid down the wall

Juliette was entirely overcome by giggles and couldn’t stop. Victor faced his side of the bed and yanked the covers up over his head. Juliette snorted, laughed, and giggled all the harder.

In his and Emily's home office, Max stared at the book manuscript in-progress on the screen of the computer monitor.

All the words blurred together.

Behind him, on the wall, his wedding portrait, him in his tux with Emily in his arms, muscular, fit, tiny and perfect, mocked him.

It was as if the photo said, you were always going to fail because you were never good enough. He tried to remember how it was for the two of them to write their first book.

He had contributed, hadn't he? He couldn't bear to think that his wife had written it mostly by herself, and had carried their project, had carried their business, had carried their child, had carried everything... had carried him. He felt like maybe she had.

Edwin and Isis entered Max and Emily’s living room.

The place was totally trashed.

Toys, business papers and other stuff covered the room. Baby Max sat on a blanket in front of a tiny toy piano. He looked up at them and then resumed picking out a song, apparently a classical piece, with a couple of fingers.

Isis was stunned that the baby was actually making music but not so stunned that she didn't set a strong intention that the evening turn out well. Emily and Max both looked harried. Their expressions made Isis more than a bit nervous.

Emily, who looked frumpier than ever, waved for them to come in and sit down. Max frowned.

“Hey, guys. What's for dinner?” Edwin asked casually. He handed Emily some flowers and held an expensive bottle of wine out to Max. Max took the bottle and barely glanced at it.

“A certain someone failed to prepare a proper meal. Rather than feed you leftovers, or something out of a can, I had to order Chinese,” Max said in an obnoxious tone.

“Like I was doing nothing,” Emily said quietly to herself.

Isis cooed at baby Max and gripped Edward’s arm tightly. She prayed that the night wasn’t going to be a terrible, horrible, mistake. The tension in the room was so thick that, if she got exhausted by the negativity, she could lie down on it.

She looked down at her outfit, which did console her. She wore a pencil skirt in slate gray, an extremely delicate sheer gray tank top that she'd made herself by re-cutting, and dyeing a vintage silk nightgown, and a chic little upcycled jacket that she'd also made, having re-cut it from something much less adorable.

“Honey, I was busy and chillax. You're scaring our friends,” Emily said more loudly.

“Doing what?” Max asked Emily.

Edwin was now clutching her arm so tightly that Isis thought even his impenetrable cool must be shattering.

Isis desperately contemplated how she might stop this relationship-from-hell-it's-all-over-but-the-screaming-after-marriage train before it leapt from the tracks and found herself speaking without knowing exactly what she was going to say.

“Phénoménal. I hope you got me Szechuan Broccoli,” Isis said to Max and smiled sweetly.

“I was taking care of baby Max,” Emily said to her husband, her voice filled with barely contained rage. Her eyes were red and a little glassy. She looked like she might be coming down with something. She sneezed.

Isis felt terror at the idea that the situation was going to escalate.

“Like the kid needs taking care of. He could probably take care of us,” Max snarled.

The tension in the room was finally too much for the child and baby Max burst into tears.

“Happy? You're schizoid and you're making our baby neurotic too,” Emily said and coughed.

“Oh, no. Aren’t you feeling well, Emily?” Edwin asked, who appeared to have regained his normal calm demeanor.

“No, I’m not,” Emily replied, and coughed again, “I let Isis know that I might be coming down with something but she said it was fine… that you’d both had flu shots. There is something going around Max’s school.”

Then she swooped baby Max up and took him away to his bedroom.

Edwin looked at Isis with irritation. She shrugged and mouthed that she didn’t realize that Emily was really sick. Edwin frowned. It wasn't like Isis to be utterly insensitive.

The doorbell rang. Enraged, Max went to answer the door.

Edwin sat on the couch with a sigh and Isis, after giving him a little wave, followed the path that Emily had taken out of the room. She felt a little warm herself and hoped that she wasn't sweating on her silk tank.

Emily put baby Max into his crib. Isis watched.

Emily handed the child a blanket, a stuffed echidna, and tickled his tummy. He grinned. She kissed him and he turned over and closed his eyes. Emily turned out the overhead and, by the light from the hallway, turned on a little machine that lit up, casting the light of many tiny, shimmering, stars onto the ceiling. After a moment, the device began to play a sweet bell-like music box version of Brahms' Lullaby. Then Emily turned on a baby monitor and waved Isis out of the room.

The two women entered the hallway. Isis stared at Emily. The poor woman had dark shadows under her eyes and she was decidedly thinner than before.

“I'm so sorry, I've got a headache and Max's driving me crazy. I just can't take it, even for you,” Emily said tersely. Isis felt sick over how stressed, sick and upset Emily seemed.

“Ne t'en fais pas; no worries. I'll come up with a backup plan,” Isis said and hugged her friend, “you go get into bed and I'll bring you a tray with some tea.”

“That sounds perfect,” Emily said, sounding as if she were going to cry. “Max was so nasty to me earlier... he said that if my friend was coming over that I had better have the decency to entertain you, however I felt, because otherwise I was rude.” A tear threatened to slide from Emily's eye and Isis wondered, feeling a little sick that the thought had occurred to her, if Max and Emily's marriage was actually going to work out.

“No, it's okay,” she said, “tea and bed are just what the doctor ordered.”

But then Emily hugged her tight and insisted that she would be fine; she'd make an appearance, and practically dragged Isis back into the living room.

Isis and Edwin sat on the living room couch. Emily and Max stood awkwardly, exchanging glares. The food was almost gone. Emily stabbed a piece of broccoli and ate it. Her husband plopped onto the couch. Emily appeared to be ignoring him but was watching surreptitiously. Max sneered at his wife and tried to stab a bamboo shoot.

He failed and almost fell off of the couch. Emily managed to hide her smile.

“You guys ready for your fortunes?” Isis asked brightly.

No one responded. Isis passed the golden-brown plastic wrapped fortune cookies out anyway.

"Your family is young, gifted and attractive," Max read aloud. He sniffed.

“Well, that's right on,” Edwin said.

"Covet your best friend's ass, they may let you borrow it," Emily read to the group. She laughed.

“I think they mean donkey,” Emily said to Isis, “I swear I haven't been checking out your ass.”

Isis giggled.

“I'm a member of the, if you got it flaunt it club,” Isis quipped, “Look away, ma chérie.”

“What's yours?” Isis asked Edwin. Edwin opened his fortune.

"Seek your date with destiny,” Edwin read to the group. He turned to Max.

“That's odd, I don't know a single girl named Destiny,” Edwin said to his friend.

“For happy life, tell Edwin to try and be funnier,” Isis said, pretending to read her fortune aloud. Neither Max nor Emily laughed at her joke. Emily stood to clean up.

Edwin tickled Isis as Emily packed up empty food containers.

“What's it really say?” Emily asked her girlfriend.

"A woman who seeks to be equal with men lacks ambition," Isis replied.

“They got that right,” Emily said bitterly. Isis tittered nervously and Emily laughed in response.

Max snorted. Emily rolled her eyes at her husband and took the take-out trash to the kitchen. Max stood and looked out the living room window at nothing. Night had fallen.

Edwin and Isis sat close together on the couch. Neither spoke.

Emily walked back into the room.

“Well, thanks for coming,” Emily said to Edwin and Isis. They exchanged a glance and then stood.

Max glared at Emily.

“Emily, don't be rude to my friends,” Max said hotly.

“
Our
friends understand if I'm tired and that, although I enjoyed their company, we all have work tomorrow and I hope that they're ready to go,” Emily replied.

“Nice, Emily. I'm sure a royal bitch is just what they expected…” he said and trailed off.

Edwin looked nervous and tugged Isis toward the door. He finally spoke.

“No, we have to go. I, uh—”

“...have my trainer really early and a full day tomorrow,” Edwin said.

“...have my trainer really early and a full day tomorrow,” Isis said softly, nearly at the exact same time, gently mocking Edwin. They departed after quick good-byes and Emily went straight to bed. Max sat up and pondered the game of life and how he might get more successful at it.