Hope Idiotic | Part 14
Hope Idiotic is a serialized novel. Catch each new part every week on Monday and Thursday.
CHUCK CLAIMED HE WAS ATTENDING AA MEETINGS ON A REGULAR BASIS. So each morning, Melvin stuck his nose right into Chuck’s open mouth and told him to breathe. These closed-door sessions were disguised as short, daily program meetings so as not to drum up any suspicion that something covert was going on. Not that anyone could have guessed that Chuck was allowing his superior to huff his morning breath.
“If he wasn’t such a weirdo, he’d buy a Breathalyzer,” Chuck told Lou over the phone one morning on his drive to work. “We can’t have beers at lunch anymore, and I try to have my last drink by ten so any trace of it is gone by the morning. I also sleep with three Life Saver in my mouth.”
“Aren’t you concerned you’ll choke?”
“Nah. Gina is spending the night pretty regularly. If I choke, she’s there to save me.”
“You could just brush your teeth, floss, use mouthwash. Not drink.”
“Nah.”
“Won’t you eventually have to show Melvin proof that you’re going to the meetings? Don’t they give you a chip or something?”
“I’m going to tell him that I don’t feel AA is right for me, but thanks to his faith and support I’ve been able to kick the bottle. All the guy wants is to be appreciated; feel like he saved someone. I’ll throw some of that bullshit his way.”
“You’re walking a thin line, man. How are things with Gina? Have you heard from Lexi at all?”
Lexi had asked him to lunch on a Saturday. He told her he was working on the magazine. She suggested Sunday. Same excuse. The truth was that he had plans to drive to Joshua Tree National Park with Gina. How about dinner at Bella’s next Monday might? she asked. He couldn’t avoid her forever, and he didn’t want to. There was a part of him that missed the dull sex and the Bible reading at bedtime.
Lexi was wearing new makeup and had a new hairstyle. He told her she looked pretty. She always looked pretty to him, but the makeup and hair, on top of not seeing her for a few months, made her seem like a new woman. It made her exciting to him again.
“I’ve been thinking,” she said.
“I’ve missed you.”
“If you want… we could… maybe we could see each other again. But take it slow, not rush into anything.”
It was what Chuck hoped she would say. But was it a good idea? What would he do about Gina? She was more or less living with him at the house, and he did not want to slow things down with her. Lexi still had her key and the garage code, and he had just made a key for Gina, who also knew the garage code. As nice as it was having both women around, there was a damn good chance that all of it could blow up in his face.
Maintaining a life of lies wasn’t easy. He had to watch the same romantic comedies twice. He had to regularly think of believable excuses about why either one couldn’t stay at the house. Gina began leaving her preferred groceries at the house, and Chuck would eat everything so that Lexi wouldn’t question why he had a box of Kashi cereal in the cabinet. Gina, then, was confused as to where her food went. She must have eaten it, he told her. Because he would never touch her food. That would be rude. Gina, worried she had developed a sleep-eating disorder, stopped buying groceries for his house. Chuck was, without malice, leading her toward a path of anorexia. But, hey, whatever kept the pantry clean.
Lexi traded the Bible for a libido, but what was even better was that she was still willing to help Chuck out with his finances. Even though his mother’s health was currently stable and wasn’t causing too many additional expenses at the moment, the interest rates on his credit cards and the outstanding medical bills were barely manageable. On top of that, the IRS began garnishing his wages. Because Liberty’s publisher didn’t deduct taxes from Chuck’s paychecks, Chuck chose to just not pay on what he earned. It was a proud stance of libertarianism. He ignored Lou’s and everyone else’s advice against it. “Screw the IRS,” he’d say. It didn’t matter to him that the publisher claimed the payroll and that the IRS would, at some point, come looking for what was due.
With the wage garnishment, Chuck’s take home from Tigris was little more than two-hundred bucks every two weeks. He obviously couldn’t pay any of his bills or rent with money like that. Lexi was giving him between five hundred and one thousand dollars every month. Most of that money went for his mom’s medical bills and to keep the utilities on in the house, put gas in his car and also to buy beer and pay for dates with Gina. He canceled the insurance on his car, stopped making the car-loan payment and quit paying Lou altogether.
Melvin was thrilled with the sobriety illusion Chuck created. Lexi was happy just to be with him and was confident he’d pay her back once his wages were returned to him in a few months. After Gina saw a text message from Lexi show up on Chuck’s phone, she knew the exes were talking again. But he assured her that the conversations were rare and that he wasn’t interested in dating Lexi. He even placated her with the idea of marriage when she brought it up one night over dinner.
He had built a sturdy fortress of bullshit, but cracks were starting to show.
To: kellerinvegas@hotmail.com
From: thebergman79@hotmail.com<Louis Bergman>
Subject: Rent
CK–
Like I’ve said before… Don’t worry about the rent. I told my grandparents that things are tight for you right now but that we’ll figure something out. They know about your mom and all that, so just pay the utilities and credit card companies. Those fuckers won’t give you a break. Michelle said I ought to evict you. Dad said I shouldn’t do that to a friend. And I never would. So don’t worry about it. Oh, Michelle… Sometimes I think she would have ratted out Anne Frank given the opportunity.
What you need to be worried about is this two-timing thing you’ve got going. Even If you’re not worried about it, I sure as hell am, and it’s not making things any easier for me out here. Don’t make me worry about you. I can only barely manage one life going to shit at a time, and I called dibs.
–LB
To: thebergman79@hotmail.com
From: kellerinvegas@hotmail.com<Chuck Keller>
Subject: Re: Rent
Thanks, buddy. I feel terrible about not paying. I should write a letter to your dad and grandpaw. I don’t know what to tell you about Michelle. You love her, so figure it out. Maybe when we get our shit back in order, she’ll be more understanding. Though, I’m not sure that’s fair. Taking the good with the bad and all that.
I gotta get out of here. I’m about to fucking crack. This place is too hot for me right now. Nothing can go on the back burner because I’ve gone and set the goddamn kitchen on fire. Not your kitchen. You know what I mean. I need to figure this out. And I need to do it before I burn the whole fucking house down. And probably the block.
I’m sorry. That probably made you worry. I’m a terrible friend. Everything will be fine. Everything. Just need some time and space to cool out.
✶
HE LEFT WORK EARLY ON THURSDAY AND TOOK FRIDAY AS A VACATION DAY. He told Lexi and Gina that he would be working all weekend and couldn’t see them.
He swung by the house, changed clothes, packed a small bag with clean underwear, a toothbrush and half a dozen bottles of beer from the fridge, threw it in his car and took off up U.S. 95 northbound.
The only predetermined direction was straight. When he finished the six beers, he pulled into a gas station a few miles outside of the city limits and purchased a case of cans. He cracked the first one before pulling out of the parking lot. By the time he hit Tonopah, he was out of gas and nearly out of beer. While the BMW drank in the unleaded, Chuck purchased another case, a pack of cigarettes and a bag of beef jerky
“Are you sure you’re alright to be on the road tonight?” the clerk at the gas station asked.
“On the road is the only way to be alright.” Then he laughed. He took his change and handed it to the old woman with translucent blue hair sitting at the video slot machine near the door. “Take the change and flee!” He stormed out with the case under his arm and stuffed the pack of smokes and lighter into his mouth. He lit up before the gas finished pumping.
Chuck aimed the BMW to Highway 6 toward Warm Springs and onto the Extraterrestrial Highway. This stretch of road had long been his place of solace. Before heading north up to Hiko, he yanked the car onto the shoulder, threw it in park, grabbed the case of beer and climbed onto the roof. He lay on his back drinking while he looked for UFOs. The stars began to blur and spin in unusual patterns against the Earth’s rotation. Chuck’s beer-filled brain was in retrograde and to him, everything looked like a spaceship racing across the sky.
“E.T.!” he shouted into the blackness. “I see you. Can you see me? Come on down. I have a beer for you. You’ll like it. It’s from a place called Milwaukee.”
✶
HE WOKE UP ON A SMALL COT SHOVED INTO A CORNER INSIDE OF A SMALL, CIGARETTE-SMOKE-STAINED ROOM. His glasses were on a rickety nightstand. Someone entered the room; a woman. She handed his glasses to him.
She was a petite, but big-breasted, blond Asian. “Am I dead?” Chuck asked.
“Hardly,” she said. “But I thought we might have to have your stomach pumped.”
“Where am I?”
“Starlight Ranch, sweetie. Do you remember me?”
“Fuck.” The Starlight Ranch was a whorehouse in Lund, a small town just outside of the Humboldt-Toiyabe National Forrest. “I’m sure my wallet will.”
“Unfortunately not. You didn’t want to party last night. I thought maybe you’d be up for it this morning.”
“So we didn’t?”
“Not yet.” She took a seat next to him on the bed and stroked his thigh over his jeans. “You kept mumbling something about too many pussies.”
“Yeah, that sounds about right.”
“And you kept buying drinks for an imaginary alien you said you found on the highway. One of our regulars tried to drink one of the beers you bought, but you threatened to kill him and anyone else who touched the beers. There are about thirteen or so glasses of warm beer waiting for you out there on the bar.”
“That sounds about right, too. I’m impressed we didn’t screw last night. You’re the woman of my dreams. I love Asian women. And blondes. And tits.”
“You called me your Zipper-Eyed Angel last night.”
Chuck laughed. “Sorry about that.”
“I’ve been called worse. Other than that, you were a total gentleman. Even ran a good couple games of pool and had the whole place dancing to the jukebox.”
“Were there a lot of people here?”
“Maybe a dozen. Mostly us girls.”
She and Chuck moved out to the bar. He grabbed one of the alien’s beers and chugged it down. She sat on a stool.
“What did you say your name was?” Chuck said.
“Starla.”
“Your real name.”
“Dakota.”
“Your real name.”
“Dakota. I’m a first generation. My parents were living in Sioux Falls at the time.”
“Jesus, that’s awful. Chinese?”
“Yes.”
“What were two Chinese immigrants doing in Sioux Falls?”
“Laundry business. Only Asian dry cleaners in the whole state. The newspaper even did a story about it.”
“Asians in Sioux Falls. Can’t say I would run that story.”
“Are you a newspaper man?”
“I’m the editor of a magazine. Back in Vegas.”
“What brought you out here?”
“Escape.”
“What from?”
“I don’t think my alien friend is going to claim these beers,” he told the bartender, a grizzled older woman. “You can toss them. I would love a fresh one, though.” He turned back to the Asian in response to her question. “What from? Everything. The job. The girls. The boss. The family.”
“The big city life, huh?”
“All I’ve ever wanted was to be able to take care of the people I care about. And I can’t do that. I’m actually hurting them.”
“My mom is sick. Heart problems. I put myself in the poorhouse taking care of her medical bills, which I can’t afford anymore. Can’t afford rent to my best buddy whose house I’m living in, the IRS is taking my wages for back taxes, and I’m letting my ex-girlfriend pay for all of it right now. At the same time, I’m also dating this other girl. My boss demanded I go into AA, which I’m obviously not doing, and generally, I’ve just sort of fucked myself. Because on top of the magazine, which is probably going to shut down if I don’t actually get back to working on it and get it out on time each month, I have a full-time day gig at the Tigris. That’s the boss who wants me in AA. And that job: all the corporate nonsense, the micro-managing, the fluorescent lighting, the mandatory meetings that accomplish nothing… I’m just not doing anything right. And I don’t know why. But it all started out with the best of intentions.”
Dakota ordered a club soda.
“All I’ve ever wanted was to be able to take care of the people I care about. And I can’t do that. I’m actually hurting them. And that makes it worse. And I worry about my mom — both of my parents, really. And my brother… They’re so helpless and stupid. Just dull and shiftless. Wasting days in Indiana. My best pal, the one whose house I’m living in, is in Chicago living with a girl who he loves but is just so hard on him. And he’s unemployed and frustrated and not doing so hot either. And I know I’m making things worse for him by not paying him rent and… Ah, fuck it. It’s all a mess. Christ, I’m talking a lot. I must not be drunk enough to shut up.”
“So you ran away from it all.”
“I needed an escape. Don’t we all need to escape sometimes?”
“I suppose so. But blowing a thousand bucks on booze at a cathouse hundreds of miles from home isn’t helping.”
“It clears my mind.”
“Bullshit.”
“It is. But it’s something. It’s something else. A good long drive always does me good. Maybe I’ll figure it out on the drive back.” He signaled the bartender for another round. “Are you drinking?” he asked Dakota.
“No, thank you. You seem like a sweet guy. But intentions, well, they’re just that. I lived in Vegas for a few years after leaving Sioux Falls. I needed to get away from that life. It was too slow. There wasn’t enough action; I needed to make something of myself. But I always had every intention of going back home at some point. Then I met a guy, and things went bad, and I had to leave. And I ended up here. I haven’t seen or spoken to my family in years. I don’t even have any real friends. I made the real escape.”
“And are you okay with your life now?”
“I’m fine with it. I think that before I was always hurting. And I haven’t hurt since I’ve been here. No one knows me, and I don’t know anyone. These other girls, my boss, they’re just co-workers. I get paid to create human interaction. It’s all business; there are no real feelings attached to any of it. I make people happy, if only for an hour and for whatever reason they want to feel happy for. Maybe they’re tired of being by themselves in the cabs of their trucks. Maybe they’re not getting any physical affection at home. Maybe they’re too socially fucked up to meet women in their real life. Maybe they like the fantasy of a Chinese girl with big tits. But I escaped because I was hurting all of the time. And I was hurting my parents with my behavior. I’ve seen all the hurt I ever want to see. Personally, anyway. Now I just provide relief. Or that one thing every one of us wants.”
“And what’s that? Happiness?”
“Sure. Why not?”
“Well, I never hurt my parents.”
“This isn’t a pissing contest. I’m just telling you that everybody hurts, and that this escape of yours, it’s not going to stop that.”
“‘Everybody hurts.’ Are you quoting R.E.M. now?”
“What’s R.E.M.?”
“The band. They had that song, ‘Everybody Hurts.’”
“Never heard of them. Don’t know it. Listen, why don’t you come back to my room with me.”
“I can’t. I have to draw the line somewhere.”
Dakota leaned in and whispered in his ear, “A blowjob on the house won’t hurt anything. As long as my boss doesn’t find out.”
