Transcription (7 page)

I’m humming again. I’m humming and writing all this down, just in case it’s the record of my last sane thoughts.

CHAPTER 7: BALCONY

“S
HESHAL
DELIBERY
,” B
O
SAID
, as he summited the balcony with the bag in his mouth. He swung his legs over and handed the bag to James. “You can’t possibly be done with the last one already.”

“I poured it out,” James said.
 

“What? After I went to all that trouble to bring it to you?”

“I’m sorry.”

Bo laughed. “I’m just kidding you. The liquor store is right on my way home. Anyway, this stuff probably makes better drain cleaner than beverage. I don’t mind taking a cut of my profits and buying you a slightly better grade of rotgut.”

“No, thanks,” James said.

“Did you write anything good last night?”

“No,” James said. In fact, he had written terrible things. He had chosen a thick story, hoping to lose himself in the flurry of words and let his hand fly a little faster. Sometimes his father’s descriptions were almost pretty enough that he could forget the gruesome events they depicted. It was like looking at a beautifully composed black and white photo of a war scene. The grace of the blocking almost overshadowed the horror of the material. But even his father couldn’t lighten the mood of the terrible rape and murder he had documented.

It took a second for Bo to realize that James was not going to elaborate on his single-word answer.

“Okay. Well, I had a pretty decent night. I hooked up online with a wonderful young man from Florida,” Bo said.

“Wait, what happened to Jeff?”

“Jeff is still Jeff. Bo is still Bo. The way I figure it, online doesn’t count on my permanent record. If there’s no physical contact, I’m not even obligated to divulge it to Jeff.”

James smiled. “Does Jeff know about this rule?”

“I’m not sure I’m even obligated to divulge the rule.”

James laughed.

“I’m too young for rules, anyway. Long-term, exclusive relationships are not my forte, and I’m very open about that.”

“I thought you said you wanted to have kids some day.”

“No, if you recall correctly,
you’re
the one who said I would make a good father. I merely
agreed
with you. I may or may not decide to have kids, and when I get to that point, I may decide to revise my policy on monogamy. I don’t think the concepts of parenting and monogamy necessarily go together though.”

“Huh,” James said. “Don’t you think a kid deserves a stable family with consistency?”

“I suppose. I’m not sure I understand why that’s hand in hand with monogamy. Can’t two or more people bond together with the common cause of raising children without being sexually exclusive?”

“I think sex is supposed to reinforce the bond between people, so they have a way to resolve conflict. If you can get gratification elsewhere, then maybe there’s less reason to settle your differences with your partner.”

“That’s interesting,” Bo said. “I’ll have to think about that. There have definitely been times in the past when I’ve held back on saying something mean because I wanted to get laid. Maybe you have a point. Doesn’t a healthy relationship involve airing grievances to resolve them? If you just pave over your conflict in hopes of getting some, then aren’t you doing the relationship a disservice?”

“I think we’re out of my depth,” James said. “Were you on the debate team in high school?”

“I was,” Bo said. “How did you guess?”

James laughed. “It’s just how efficiently you changed your tone there. You sounded like a politician there for a second.”

“I’ll take that as an insult,” Bo said, smiling. “So how about you? Where’s Mrs. James Cheap-Gin, and your two-and-a-half kids?”

James shook his head. “I’m not a relationship guy, unfortunately.”

“What does that mean?” Bo asked.

James took a second before he answered. He looked up towards the underside of the tree branches overhead. “I guess I just don’t have the time. Work takes up everything.”

Bo shook his head. “What’s the point of that? You really get that much satisfaction out of your work?”

“It’s important,” James said.

“Important? Or important to you?”

“What’s the difference?” James asked.

“Before I answer that—are you going to break out that gin, or what?”

“Oh, sorry,” James said. He took the bottle from the brown bag and twisted the cap. “Let me go get you a glass.”

“No need,” Bo said. He straightened his legs and reached into the front pocket of his baggy jeans. James was amazed to see him pull a can of beer from the pocket and then slump back in his chair.

James laughed. “How long have you been carrying that around?”

“I picked it up at lunch,” Bo said. He cracked it open and tipped it up for a giant gulp. “It’s unwieldy to walk around with a can in your pocket, but it’s comforting. It reminds me that I get to go home soon. I don’t work tomorrow, so Thursday is my Friday. Besides, I like it warm.”

James took a pull from his bottle of gin. He knew that he was hardly going to make a dent in it before he dumped the rest down the drain. It would be a lot cheaper and less wasteful to ask Bo to pick up one or two of those little airplane bottles. But that would feel too limiting. He didn’t mind restricting himself, but he didn’t want to have an artificial limit on how much he could imbibe.

Bo was tilting his can again. He looked to be three-quarters done with his beer already.

“You like to take your time and really enjoy it, I see.”

“I don’t drink for pleasure, just for the effect,” Bo said with a smile.

“You were going to tell me—what’s the difference between a job that’s important and one that’s important to me?”

“Oh, right,” Bo said. “I guess I’m asking—are you doing your job for a higher purpose, like the good of humanity, or just because you get something deeply satisfying out of it?”

“Oh,” James said. He took another swig of gin and let it slip down his throat, burning the whole way. “It’s a job that has to be done. Not just for me. Why do you ask?”

“If you don’t mind me saying,” Bo said, “you look like you’re carrying a lot of weight on your shoulders. In my limited experience, that kind of weight isn’t usually self-imposed. You’ve been tasked with something big, and you’re struggling to endure it because you think it’s necessary. You look like you’re sacrificing yourself for a higher purpose.”

James frowned and nodded. “You’re pretty perceptive for someone so self-involved.”

Bo tilted his head back and laughed. “I can tell you’re not from around here. People around here don’t bust balls like that. You’re lucky I like you.”

James smiled.

“I can see that I’m not going to get any information out of you through interrogation. I’ll just have to deduce your secrets using my superior intellect. You know, around here we have a surefire way of getting information on newcomers.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Works every time,” Bo said. “You know how we find out someone’s secrets?”

“How’s that?”

“We make them up. Turns out if you spread enough rumors about someone, they’ll either confirm your suspicions by keeping quiet, or they’ll protest. When they protest, that’s when you know you’ve hit a sensitive topic,” Bo said.

“And what rumors will you tell about me.”

Bo narrowed his eyes and scanned James up and down. “You’re quiet. You keep to yourself. You claim to be a writer, but I’ve never met a writer who didn’t brag about all the places he’s been published. You live in this shitty building, but you have enough money to have everything delivered. I’ve never once seen you leave your apartment. You don’t have a car. I would spread the rumor that you’re a vampire, but you only come out of your place during the day, so that doesn’t follow.”

“I’m agoraphobic,” James said.

“Which is that one? Spiders?”

“Nope. Fear of open places and crowds. The only reason I’m living in such a heavily populated area is that the density of people here is high enough for me to get everything delivered, like you said. I can even get a doctor to visit me in my apartment if I want. I only have to go out for the dentist, and I only do that every two years.”

“Okay. First, that’s fascinating,” Bo said, putting up his hands. “I’m not sure I believe it, but it’s fascinating. And, second, every two years? That’s a little gross. We have homeless people who get better dental care than that.”

“Homeless people? Come on,” James said. “And it’s not like I don’t brush and floss.”

“Tell me what you’re writing about,” Bo said.

“You didn’t strike me as this nosy before. And you told me once that you wouldn’t divulge my information. Now you’re threatening to spread rumors. I’m not sure I can trust you.”

“Ah, but you can,” Bo said. “I won’t spread around things you tell me. But the stuff you won’t tell me, I will make up and discuss freely. Do you see? The only information that’s safe is the information you pass along.”

“Tell me about your job,” James said.

“Which one? I’ve got the grocery job and the air conditioning job.”

“The one you worked today.”

Bo’s face lit up with a fresh smile. “Oh, it’s terrible. I know everyone says that about their work, but mine is truly terrible. I work in a nest of snakes, where incompetence and treachery are rewarded with equal vigor.”

“That sounds bad. Where do you work?”

“It’s a toxic graveyard where the worst of humanity gather to multiply their evil intentions. It’s a horrible hellscape called Annie’s Foodway.”

James laughed.

Bo shook his head and furrowed his brow. “Oh, don’t you dare underestimate the darkness inherent in an independent supermarket.”

James laughed harder. He couldn’t catch his breath.

“That place couldn’t be more Satanic if it had pentagrams instead of handicapped parking spots,” Bo said. “My union dues include two chicken feet and a monkey’s brain. When you work the register, you can only activate the cash drawer with a drop of human blood. It doesn’t have to be your own blood, but it has to be fresh.”

“No, please, tell me how you really feel about it,” James said.
 

“It’s not the best place to work,” Bo said.

James laughed again.

“Why do you keep working there if it’s that bad?”

“Where else am I going to work? At least at the Foodway we can buy into health insurance through the union. I occasionally get a Friday night off, like tomorrow. As long as you don’t answer the phone, they can’t call you in.”

“What do you do there?”

“Everything, same as everyone. Most of the work is either stocking or register, so it depends on the shift you pull, but on any given day I might be expected to do one of a dozen different jobs.”

“What do you like the best?”

“Register,” Bo said. “You get to interact with a lot of different people. You’re never bored doing register. It’s a game to see how efficient you can be. Plus, you get to see what everyone is buying. I can always tell when someone is there buying their weekly staples versus the ingredients for a special dinner. Based on what they buy, I always know if they’re going to break bad news, or try to seduce a date, or soothe a broken heart.”

“What kind of groceries does one buy when they’re breaking bad news?” James asked.

“Depends. There’s a divorce dinner. You can always tell those. They’ll come in and buy the favorite food of each kid. They’ll get frozen pizza for one, chicken fingers for the other, some kind of soup for a third. They’ll get comfort food and dessert. You have to break news like that over something sweet. Are your parents together?”

James shook his head.

“Divorced?”

“Dead,” James said.

“Oh, sorry,” Bo said. He pulled at his collar. “That was awkward… I like checking out people who are trying to get healthy. They’ll have a whole cart full of good stuff, but the last few things they load on the belt are always their cheat foods. Lots of fresh vegetables and fruit, maybe some low-fat items, and then a big bag of chips and a candy bar at the end. You can shame those people so easily, just by asking if they want you to leave the chips out, like they’re going to eat the whole family-size bag on the way home in the car. The shame! I love to see the shame!”

“That’s twisted.”

“It could be worse. I’m very subtle when I’m making fun of people. Some cashiers will call them out. We’ve also got some crooked cashiers who will cheat the store for their friends.”

“How’s that?”

“Sometimes it’s as simple as putting your hand over the barcode as you move the item across the scanner. If we’re busy enough, nobody notices that the machine didn’t beep. Other times they’ll buy and sell food stamps. If you’re quick enough about it, you can cash someone out with stamps and then pocket the cash. It doesn’t work so much anymore. They have those cards now.”

James nodded. He checked his watch. He had about an hour before sunset. His hand was already beginning to feel tight, even though the writing wouldn’t begin for a while. He flexed his fingers and felt the soreness deep in the knuckles. Soon, he would have to start taking a painkiller just to grip the pen.

“You look like you’re getting ready,” Bo said.

“Pardon?”

“You’re getting ready to write,” Bo said.
 

“Oh, yeah, I guess so.”

“Well, I won’t keep you. I need to get going. I’ll be getting up early tomorrow so I can head down to the beach for the weekend. It’s a long haul, but it’s worth it.”

“Going to practice your non-monogamy?”

“Actually, no. I’m going with Jeff, since you ask. This is about as monogamous as I get. I’ll be back late Sunday. Do you want me to stop by on Monday with more booze?”

James shook his head. “No. We better play it by ear, I think. How about I let you know on Monday and then maybe you can make a delivery on Tuesday.”

“Fair enough. I’ll look for you on the balcony,” Bo said. He sprung up and tossed his beer can over the side. He swung his leg over after it. See you then.”