Hope Idiotic | Part 38
Hope Idiotic is a serialized novel. Catch each new part every week on Monday and Thursday.
AFTER DRIVING CHUCK’S CAR AND BELONGINGS—INCLUDING CHUCK IN A PLASTIC URN—HOME TO INDIANA, Cal flew back to Las Vegas to tend to other matters pertaining to his son’s death including contesting the coroner’s ruling that suicide was the cause. Since the house was empty and Cal had no money, Lou agreed that he could crash there until things were sorted out. He did request that Cal pay him one hundred dollars a week for rent and as a way to collect on some of what Chuck still owed. Cal would also have to pay for the utilities, which Lou never bothered to cancel.
It was a pitiful situation, really. The grieving father was living in the same house his son had died in and like his son, the house was dead. The little bit of furniture barely saw any use. There were no photos or artworks on the walls. There were no friends stopping by or meals being prepared in the kitchen. There was no conversation and no laughter, only tears late at night as Cal tried to sleep on the bed, using only an unzipped sleeping bag as a cover.
He wasn’t smart or savvy, but Cal Keller was determined, more determined than he’d probably ever been in his life, to emend the coroner’s ruling. After a week of phone calls and visits to the Clark County Coroner’s office, he got his investigation. The coroner interviewed everyone on the long list Cal provided. The list contained names and phone numbers of friends and co-workers; everyone in Chuck’s cellphone address book.
The coroner wanted to know whether Chuck had seemed sad, what his life was like shortly before he died, what the relationship between Chuck and the person on the other end of the phone was like, how Chuck met that person, how his death affected that person and a host of other questions to complete the inquiry. When all of the interviews were done, and the information was assessed, one thing was clear to the coroner: Chuck Keller was a sweet, fun-loving, exciting, smart, generous, adventurous, humorous, driven man who struggled with an alcohol addiction and had hit on hard times but was turning a corner. He was also a fucking idiot who accidentally killed himself after a night of heavy drinking.
That truth could not be forgotten. It’s so easy to turn the dead into saints because our grief so often soaks our memory in sentimental melancholy, especially if the departed was young. But without that truth, Chuck’s death had no other explanation than suicide. Him being a fucking idiot was critical evidence. It was the smoking gun.
And so the coroner changed the ruling: Charles Keller died as a result of carbon monoxide poisoning.
Cal could have returned to Indiana after that, but he wasn’t quite ready to leave his son’s adopted hometown. R.J. flew out to Vegas and stayed in the house with Cal, where the two men could grieve together. Lou had no idea. Besides, he didn’t give the house much thought since the one hundred-dollar rent checks were coming in the mail every week.
✶
ONE MORNING, WHILE LEXI WAS GETTING DRESSED FOR WORK, a heavy and fast pounding on her apartment’s front door startled her. Wearing only her bra and a pair of dress slacks, she grabbed her robe from the bathroom and answered the door. It was R.J.
“What are you doing here?” she asked as he pushed past her, letting himself into the apartment.
“You know Cal?” he said pacing.
“Chuck’s dad? Yeah.”
“You know that motherfucker…”
“R.J. What the hell are you doing here? In Las Vegas?”
“Came out here a week ago. Couldn’t be home. It’s too damn sad right now, you know? So I came out here to help Cal with stuff.”
“What stuff?”
“I don’t know! Just stuff. You know. This ain’t easy for him, Chuck’s dying and all. Me neither.”
“Does Lou know you’re staying at his house?”
“Who?”
“Never mind. So what’s the problem?”
“You know Cal?”
“We’ve established that.”
“But did you know that that motherfucker is a motherfucking faggot?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Last night, we was drinking by the pool and just talkin’ and stuff and I got pretty wasted. And I fell asleep in one of them chairs out there and next thing I know, I wake up and Cal is sucking my dick.”
“I’m sorry!?”
“Like he’s on his knees with my dick all out, and he’s suckin’ on it.”
“How is that even possible?”
“He undid my pants, I guess.”
“And you were, like, hard?”
“I ain’t gay!”
“I didn’t say that. But neither is Cal.”
“Then why the hell was he suckin’ my dick?”
“Are you sure about this? You didn’t just dream it or something?”
“I told you, I ain’t gay!”
“Alright. So what did you do?”
“When he was done, I stood up and said, ‘Hey! What the fuck are you doing?’ Then I punched him in the face. I almost knocked his ass out and right into the pool.”
“Hang on a minute. You said, ‘When he was done.’ Do you mean that you woke up and even after you saw Cal Keller was giving you a blowjob, you kept letting him? So, you actually finished.”
R.J. stopped pacing. “Well, yeah. I mean, I was drunk. I didn’t know what was going on at first. Not until I blew my wad.”
“Oh, my God, R.J. Okay, so then what happened?”
“I made him take me to the ATM and made him give me all of his money in his account or I’d beat him to death.”
“You mugged the guy after he sucked you off? And how much money did you get?”
“Two hundred forty dollars. I told him that he’d better not tell anyone or I’d beat him to death.”
“So why are you telling me. Why are you here?”
“Because!” He began pacing again. “That motherfucker did it again!”
“When!?”
“This morning!”
“Let me get this straight. You were allegedly raped in your sleep, beat up your rapist, mugged him, threatened his life then went back and slept in the same house as him.”
“Yeah.”
“And how did he come to give you another blowjob? You weren’t still drunk this morning.”
“I was sleeping.”
“And you woke up, again, with Cal blowing you.”
“Yeah.”
“And you finished again, didn’t you?”
“Yeah. But I ain’t gay!”
“R.J., why are you here? Why are you telling me this if you don’t want anyone to know?”
“I just wanted you to know what happened in case Cal said anything to you. My way is the way it happened. Not his. Got that?”
“Sure. Got it.”
“Anyway. I’m leaving town in a few days. Going back home. Maybe it’s better there now, you know?”
“I doubt it. But it’s bound to be better than getting raped in your sleep. Where are you staying until then?”
“With Cal.”
“And you’re not worried about him blowing you again. Against your will.”
“I told him this morning, before I came over here, that if he did it again, I’d beat him to death.”
“I’m sure he’ll heed that warning.”
See? Sadness makes people do the strangest things.
✶
THINGS WERE LESS WEIRD FOR LEXI AND ME, BUT LIKE CHUCK’S FRIENDS AND FAMILY BACK IN INDIANA, those of us in Vegas had to lean on each other. Lexi and I met every Monday and Thursday for lunch, and if work got in the way of having lunch, we met at Bella’s, which had announced that it would be closing on New Year’s Day. The view was no match for The Great Recession. Many of the homes in the surrounding gated communities were adorned with foreclosure signs on their Xeriscaped lawns.
It was a fittingly dilapidated view for the sordid story that Lexi told me of Cal and R.J.
“It’s like a goddamn blowjob factory in that house,” I said. “Cal Keller’s Blow Job Factory: Now open!”
“It’s the oddest thing I think I’ve ever heard.”
“Can we believe it?”
“It doesn’t make any sense for R.J. to tell me a lie like that out of nowhere.”
“Yeah. I think he was protesting too much. Covering his tracks. Making it seem like rape when really, they’re just two grown men sharing feelings of loss and finding comfort in sleepy blowjobs. I bet R.J. wasn’t even sleeping. That’s just part of the game they play to keep it kinky and exciting and, you know, less homoerotic.”
“Exactly.”
On our way out, Lexi ducked into the restroom. I waited just outside the restaurant and took in the early Vegas winter air. The forthcoming winter and following spring are the best times of year in that city. I was yanked from my reverie when I heard my name being called.
“Neal?”
“Gina.” I hadn’t seen her in nearly two months since Chuck died. “What’re you doing here?” We hugged awkwardly.
“Just, you know, grabbing some dinner. I know this place is closing and, well, I always liked the food.”
“I haven’t seen you around the property. Everything good?”
“Yeah. Everything’s fine. Just busy.” She was with a guy who, in that particular light, resembled Chuck. “Oh, sorry, this is my, um, friend Aaron.” We shook hands. “We’ve gone out a couple of times.”
Because of Gina’s surprise, I had momentarily forgotten about Lexi who would no doubt be out of the restroom and standing among us any second. For everyone’s sake, I thought it best to not have the two women see each other. I tried hurrying Gina into the restaurant and out of sight. I opened the door and ushered the couple to the hostess stand.
“That’s great; you’re a handsome couple,” I said. “Try the special tonight. It’s great if you like pasta. Excuse me,” I said to the hostess. “This young, attractive couple would love a table for two. Something romantic, by the window perhaps.”
The hostess looked confused. So did Gina and her date.
“Neal…?” Lexi began.
“Okay, well, I gotta run. Great seeing you. Enjoy your meal,” I said as I backed away, took Lexi’s hand and started leading her out of the restaurant.
“Hi, Lexi,” Gina said.
“Shit,” I said under my breath. I let go of Lexi’s hand as she pulled away.
“Gina.” Lexi looked quizzically at the man standing with the woman who had unintentionally—and unknowingly to both women for the better part of two years—become her mortal enemy.
“How are you? How have you been?” Gina asked.
Lexi broke her stare. “What?”
“How have you been?”
“Good.”
“Oh, that’s good to hear. I’ve been good, too.”
“Okay.” It was like she was watching the Hindenburg crash into the Titanic. I took Lexi’s hand again and pulled gently, but she resisted.
“Do you still talk to Lou?” asked Gina.
“Yes.”
“Ever talk to Chuck’s parents?”
“Of course,” she said with a tone slightly peppered with spite.
“Oh.” Gina looked down.
“I don’t know what you thought you had with Chuck, or even what you actually meant to him, but he and I were going to make it.”
“Lexi, come on,” I said.
“Maybe he loved you—he probably did—but he loved me, too. And he loved me since we were kids. And he loved me at the very end. He always loved me through everything, and I always loved him through everything. Everything.” She was crying. Gina had begun crying, too.
“I know,” Gina said. “I couldn’t hold a candle to you, Lexi. I tried, but I couldn’t.”
Lexi had been looking for a fight, but that disarmed her. “What?”
“Even at our best, I knew that somewhere in the back of his mind, he was thinking about you.”
“Oh. Well. Thank you?”
“You’re welcome?”
The women looked at each other a moment as the tension fluctuated and the awkwardness built.
“Are you ready to be seated?” the hostess cut in.
“They are,” I said quickly. “Come on, Lexi.”
As Lexi and I walked out of Bella’s, I heard Gina’s date ask her, “Who’s Chuck?”
