Sunflowers (Tournesols) II 26 страница

Inadvertently, I fixed my gaze on a tree in the backyard as I began to go through what had happened to me, and to us, in the past little while. I was hardly given a chance to think and reflect recently - I had pretty much been going non-stop since September when I left for Paris. Even those days in the apartment where I had done nothing but read books, there was still the looming nature of getting a job, money troubles, or that dreaded ennui around me. I had been around Gerard and that itself was an event, even if he was just drawing by himself next to me because it was him next to me. This was important and needed my full attention. So even while I read, I was never really alone and thinking; rather I was reading and repeating in my mind. He is here, I am lucky, I am in love, and so on. I was never alone like I usually was. I had grown so used to sitting around and imaging in my life instead of actually living it that now when I was pushed into the middle of all this, I didn't even realize how overwhelming it was. In the middle of the night, on the deck chair, my life really did flash before my eyes and I worried I was dying. My chest was constricting and that coupled with the cold made my lungs ache. And lungs were important, or so Gerard had said. I always wanted to remember what he said to me, because I had been working with memories before. Gerard was actually saying things now, new things, and he was around me, and I needed to appreciate him all the time because what if I lost him again? And he had just rejected me that night; he had a right to say no, and I felt like a jerk for even trying in spite of his obvious signs, but still. Rejection. What if this was just the beginning? What if he decided that coming back to Jersey was not worth it and he needed to leave again? I realized my relationship with him had never been stable, and as soon as one thing went bad, the whole battery of bad things seemed to flash before my mind. And of course, it wasn't just his rejection of me that night that made things bad; the loss of our place was still fresh. I had told myself not to think about it for so long and I hadn't. I tried to stay in the present moment, and for the most part, though I was aware we were moving, in that present moment I was in the apartment so it didn't matter. Everything was still fine. Now it felt like the floor no longer existed and I was falling and falling. What did I do next? It was a complete loss of identity. It was a complete loss of self. I tried to hold onto my deck hair, but it just reminded me how cold the winter was, and now, I had nothing to get me through it but dread.

I heard the door open and I nearly jumped out of my skin. I had been hoping for Gerard but anticipating Cassandra, so I was surprised when Vivian came out, wearing her coat and a blanket over herself as well. And, most surprisingly, holding a cigarette.

She held her finger up to her mouth with a small "shhhhh" before she replaced it with the cigarette and lit up. She coughed a bit as she breathed in, but eventually got the hang of it. She sat down in the other deck chair and it looked as if we were both smoking with the cool air rushing in and out of my lungs just as fast. I was no longer in full panic attack mode, but the fear was lingering. Had it always been there? I wondered, but Vivian started to speak.

"I don't like smoking," she held the cigarette in front of her, at the end of the deck chair's arm. "But I miss it. It smells good to me, even though I don't want my house stinking of it. It reminds me of art school, or Gerard. I miss him."

"Me too," I agreed, feeling relieved. Someone else had been rejected by him that night. But she shook her head slightly, as if I wasn't quite understanding things on her terms.

"I used to come out here and light cigarettes during the time he was gone. I'd just watch them burn and think about everything that had happened between us and whether or not he was coming back. Whether or not I wanted him to come back, if my life was easier without him." She sighed. She was no longer smoking, but watching it go down. "My life is easier without him, I realized, but it's not better. He makes me so mad sometimes, and in a way, I'm still mad at him. He was being so wonderful this evening, though. It almost doesn't feel right."

"What do you mean?"

She scrunched up her face, struggling for words. "I love him, but part of my love for him was frustration. I don't want you two to live here forever, but it is really nice having him around. It hurts a bit too, though. He's different than before."

"Of course, he was gone seven years, that changes anyone," I said, but I wasn't sure if I believed that statement myself. I was sure he was the same person; he had to be. Any other changes I took to be my own thinking, since I had grown and learned since his absence. I was young; I was supposed to get older. But did the old really get older in the same way? Did you still continue to change at that age? I remembered what he had said when he was first back, about skins cells changing every seven years. I thought that preamble had been for pageantry and to dazzle people with narrative. But was that actually true? He was more quiet and reserved, but he was the same. Wasn't there something about us all that still stayed the same even as we changed other aspects of ourselves? I thought of Jasmine, who to me, had changed the most. But I still knew her. In spite of the walls she put up with work and her new lifestyle choices, I still saw Jasmine in there. I knew her. And though I had changed as well, I was sure that she, and Gerard, and Vivian still saw me. I was Frank. It was the only thing I could depend on now and I wanted to believe it so much.

Vivian just nodded to my comment. She was still watching the cigarette burn. "I suppose. Maybe it's part of getting old and your attention divides itself differently. Who knows? I should just enjoy the compliments. I'm just glad to have him back for some period of time, even if he's not quite how I remember him." She butted out the cigarette. "I guess I can stop smoking these to remember him. Even that doesn't fit anymore."

"It's better, though. He says he wants to live longer and that's why he stopped. He has a lot of reasons now to stick around."

Vivian smiled. Then she shivered. "Thank you for telling me that. I have something to tell you now, and I'm glad I ran into you here." Her voice had shifted; she was no longer sombre and nostalgic, but the Vivian I remembered. "There was a message on the phone. A drug store called here about an interview for you, and they want you to come by at 11am tomorrow. Is that enough time for you?"

I was surprised. I figured they would have given up on me as soon as I told them I was moving and to call a different number to rearrange. I didn't think my résumé was that impressive, and the job wasn't that good to begin with, but I felt proud of myself. I seemed to have finally done the impossible: gotten a job interview.

"Sure, that sounds fine."

"Good, because I already called them back and said yes. I was going to make you go regardless. This is just easier if you agree," she smiled wildly and I was not sure if she was teasing or not. "You can take the car. Keys are in the hall."

She got up and kissed me on my forehead. "Don't stay outside too long. I don't want to defrost you in the morning before the interview. Goodnight, Frank."

I didn't have a chance to thank her before she disappeared back inside, and I was left alone again. My interview was less than twelve hours away; I was relieved I would have the car so I could sleep in until the last possible moment. The cold was tiring me out, the move, and the emotions. A floodgate had been opened up and I knew it wasn't done just yet. I stared at the tree awhile longer, wondering how it held the weight of so many branches, so many burdens, and so much responsibility. Especially in the winter, when it lost everything that was beautiful and alive about it, and then was given the added weight of the cold and the snow on its branches, it still carried its burden. I admired the tree then, though it felt foolish to admire a plant for its ability to endure. I didn't know if I could conjure up that type of resistance, but I tried to think. I replayed my memories and instead focused on the times where I was surrounded by people, with love and with acceptance, instead of left out in the cold. I thought of Mikey making us a cake, of shopping at Savers, of dinners and visits and family and legacy. I thought of this random group of people who had helped Gerard and I move in the middle of winter, two of whom we had rejected when we had first gotten back into the city. I thought of this house, and I thought of family as the most creative act there could be. I wondered if it was true. I wanted it to be true, and I knew that like that tree, it was not over yet.

Chapter Five

If I had had the job interview before the move, I would have been nervous. I would have felt as if I had the entire apartment on my shoulders and the only way I could save it was by getting the job. I would have felt desperate and probably taken whatever shit they flung at me. But having it after the fact, knowing that there was really nothing to lose anymore and everything to gain, I felt good walking into it. I thought of what Gerard had told me about confidence and I tried to muster it up again as I walked into the fluorescent lighting. Since it was still a weekend, things were busy. There was a line at the counter and a man arguing over the price of the soda that was on sale, and another line at the pharmacy counter where people shifted from side to side needing, wanting, and craving whatever was next in their carrel of prescriptions. I had never been so aware of my healthy, young body in all of my life. This did not make me feel confident, but rather, guilty. I tried to put blinders on and to think about anything other than finding the manager.

His name was Mel Gold, and he was a rather old, thin man with white hair that marked his horseshoe balding hairline, along with a small goatee. I thought he was going to blow away in the wind when I first saw him, but he was surprisingly dynamic. He seemed to have all the energy of a two year old and seemed genuinely excited when he realized I was "Frank Spinelli! Here about the job! Fantastic! Follow me to the back room!"

Exclamation points at the end of all his statements did not even begin to cover his enthusiasm and positivity. His presence and demeanour almost seemed like a riddle to me and I spent the first half of the interview wondering if this was a part of the interview and I was supposed to comment on it. Was it a trick to get me to want the job? It was working if it was. In spite of how depressing the environment could easily become, I found myself trusting Mel more, and really not minding if I got the job here at all. Again, I began to wonder the parabolic nature of this chicken and egg scenario. Was he like this to cope with the depressing nature of his job, or was he using it to get us to want to work here in spite of the depression? I concluded by the end of the interview that I ceased to care.

The first part was us talking in the back room office where he kept his files. He explained to me that he used to be a pharmacist, but when he retired, he wanted to keep going to work so he became the manager and was able to see both sides of the business. His daughter was now the lead pharmacist, and her husband was shipping supervisor. In spite of the drug store being part of a chain, it was predominantly family run. I was being interviewed for a cashier/stock boy position and he asked me what type of hours I wanted to keep, whether or not I wanted night shift, or had an issue working weekends. He wrote all my answers down and showed no sign of disapproval whatsoever, even when I told him, quite honestly, that it was not my dream job to work in this business, but that I needed money to fund other projects. I figured that might lose me the job to begin with, but instead he seemed interested in these outside projects and seemed quite impressed when I told him I was a photographer.

"I have a granddaughter on the way. Perhaps I could use your abilities when she is born. I love to have photos of my family all around me, especially when I don't see them every day at work." He commented, and I agreed that yes, he should keep me in mind. He asked for a business card and I meekly said I did not have one yet, but my information was on my résumé. He nodded and then began to show me photos of his family, and I was struck with another question: was this another part of the interview? Did he really want to show me his family because I had the job and he was initiating me? Or was this to gauge my reaction? But again, my puzzles yielded nothing. Instead I looked at a lot of photos of what appeared to be very happy people, and I felt a pang of jealousy that I tried to swallow away.

After the interview in the back office, he took me around to give me a tour of the store. He started in the back, where he introduced me to his son-in-law Gary who took care of the shipping, and who would be my supervisor if I ended up getting the job (another good sign? I had no idea) and then around to the prescription counter. It was still very full so we didn't see his daughter Cecile. We ended the tour with going around the perimeter of the rest of the store, ending with the cash registers where I would be trained in case of a rush, but for the most part, my duties would be stocking.

"So you know, employees get a twenty-percent discount, which is more than most stores, but since we sell necessities, I believe it's imperative that we do provide a better discount. If we have no choice about getting sick, then at least we can make the healing process easier, wouldn't you agree?" he asked me, and it was the first time during the interview where I felt completely safe. As if I was in my league. He mentioned choice, and though this entire establishment played into that deterministic system that Gerard had warned me about, Mel was providing a way out.

And a twenty-percent discount seemed amazing. I had never had a discount that high on anything before, and I suddenly found myself really wanting the job. I tried not to let it show on my face, just in case it would be taken away from me. Coolly, I replied, "Yes, I agree."

"That's wonderful! Now, I have a few more interviews for the day, but I will let you know by Wednesday for sure. In the meantime, here is a coupon for ten percent off anything in the store. Use it wisely," he teased and handed over a piece of paper. I thanked him, and that was it. I felt a little odd now, no longer needing a reason to be here, and still out in the cold in terms of whether or not I got the job. In the last second, I realized I wanted it, but by that time, it may have already been determined. There really was no choice in terms of job hunting, and I felt so suffocated. I looked down at my coupon and I thought bitterly, I did this job interview and all I got was this lousy coupon. I hoped it wasn't a consolation prize, but if it was, then I may as well use it. I turned away from the registers and began to explore the aisles that I hadn't seen yet.

I knew that I probably should have bought food, but I went down the condom aisle. I felt like such a twenty-something guy right then and so straight. I felt like all eyes were on me, and estimating my sexuality (not to mention my size) as I walked through the colourful aisle that screamed out different types of fucking at me. I hated this part the most about having sex. I knew that I needed to wear one and that was fine, I didn't mind, but picking which ones was agonizing. Most of the time, at least when Jasmine and I were still in school, we would go to the student health centre or the youth space and just take the free ones that were there. Sometimes when no one was looking we'd both fill our backpacks to the brim and then giggle all the way back to our place. Free condoms were the best condoms in my opinion; I had no idea what to really look for other than that.

When Gerard and I had been moving, I noticed that our stash was getting low. We maybe had about seven left. So it wasn't an emergency per se, but I knew that we would eventually run out. Part of me resented the fact that we had to use them. Maybe we could just stop? It wasn't like we were going to get pregnant or anything, and it wasn't like we had many partners... Gerard mentioned having a one night stand in Paris every so often, but sometimes it felt as if he was quoting from a book rather than an actual reality. I had just had sex with Jasmine recently... Even there, we could stop using condoms because she had been on the pill since she was eighteen. I considered this awhile, staring at the extra large, thin, ribbed for her pleasure, and all of the other different types that made no sense. I knew that the only reasons we kept using them was to ward off any anxieties about disease, infection, or just plain cleanliness. But so far as I knew, Gerard was clean - he had said so at my parents when they mentioned disease. Why did we have to buy condoms then and why did we have to worry about diseases so much? It seemed so fucking cruel that something so good could have so many repercussions. Even with Jasmine, ignoring pregnancy as a possible outcome (but something that eluded me entirely because we had never had a pregnancy scare as she was on the pill and always regular) there was still the idea of disease and illness looming in the background. We all could be tested regularly to know for sure we didn't carry anything, but that required a doctor. Since I had no health insurance, it seemed like the more economic choice, at least in the short term, was to just buy condoms. I was so used to getting them for free that seeing how much they actually were seemed ridiculous, even with my coupon. And really, would I purchase condoms with a coupon? Had it come to that? This was maddening and aggravating. I just wanted to have sex with people I loved without worrying.

"Frank? Frank, is that you?" I was interrupted from my angry reverie. I was relieved, but partly concerned about where I was. Who had caught me in the condom aisle? I felt like I was twelve and I had been caught masturbating for the first time. Everyone did it, but they weren't supposed to know you did it.

It was Mikey. He was walking down the aisle now towards me, his coat done up all the way to his neck. The places where his head was bald were pink from the cold, along with his cheeks. His body looked thin and fragile in the coat her wore, but he, like the Mel the manager, had a good demeanour. He didn't even seem to notice what aisle we were in. He just came over to me and extended his hand in a greeting. "How are you today? Moved in all ready? I hope no one hurt themselves and that's not why you're here."

I shook my head. "No, I actually had a job interview here."

"With Mel?"

"Yeah," I said, shocked. "How do you know him?"

"I do his bills and bookkeeping, usually. Great guy. He gives me consistent business and I give him mine as well. With all my kids, I'm here a lot." Mikey smiled. It seemed so odd that I had just seen him yesterday for moving in. It was already the farthest thing from my mind. "Well, I hope you get the job. It would be a good place for you, I think. You definitely have the skill to move up in management, and I know that Mel does hire from within, and not just within his own family."

I nodded. I knew that I should say something more, but I became suddenly very aware of the fact that we were standing in the condom aisle. I wanted to move around the store, but Mikey was positioning himself so he blocked the aisle. He held what looked to be a prescription in his hand and a tote bag on the side. After a bit, he read my discomfort and then gave his attention to where we were standing, and then, he did something amazing: he laughed. And I was plagued by another set of questions: was he laughing with me or at me?

"Frank, I know you and Gerard are a couple, and I'm pretty sure I know you have sex, and, in case you haven't noticed the fact that I have a lot of kids, I know what sex is as well. It's okay that we're in the condom aisle. We're adults, right?"

"Right," I concluded, gaining my footing. "I just... it's weird. I'm still not sure what to buy."

"Neither was I, and when Alexa and I began to have kids we pretty much stopped all together. Now that we don't want kids anymore, I had to take care of this the more economic way."

I was about to say celibacy, but Mikey thought even farther ahead of me: "Vasectomy."

Part of me recoiled at the idea, but Mikey insisted upon it. "It was the best thing ever, now we don't have to worry about midnight condom runs. Although I'm sure this is less than desirable for yourself."

I laughed, he was right about that. But I did considered it, albeit briefly. Would just getting something quickly snipped solve my worries? I wouldn't have to worry about pregnancy, that was for sure, but it still left me in an awkward position with Gerard. I envied Mikey suddenly: he didn't have to worry about diseases with his wife. They were monogamous. I suddenly began to see how different relationships functioned, in terms of restriction and permission. I had always thought monogamy was something that just would never work for me, or for anyone, really, because it meant you were promising yourself to someone. It meant you gave up your freedom. But Mikey was free in other ways, I was seeing. He didn't have this inner monologue in the condom aisle. He knew his body and what worked, and meanwhile, I was still fumbling towards something I couldn't quite name.

"You should come by sometime," Mikey stated. "See my kids, and Alexa wants to meet you as well. We'd all come over to Vivian's, but I don't imagine she would be willing to have that many kids running around. By the time we'd left, a wall would be coloured in."

I laughed. "Gerard is probably taking care of that right now."

He laughed too, and for a moment, it felt as if we had known each other a long time. That he wasn't only Gerard's brother, but he was mine too. An awkward and much older one, but we were still brothers. Related and bonded. There was a sense of familiarity that wasn't creepy nor possessive.

"I would really like to meet your kids and Alexa," I told him honestly. "Are you here for them right now?"

"Yes! Actually, thank you for reminding me. It was nice talking with you, but if I don't get this medicine for Elizabeth she will be up half the night again."

I held up my hand to say goodbye, but Mikey leaned forward again to shake it instead. He was a formal brother, an awkward gentleman, but he was my brother. I liked it. I had been an only child all my life, and suddenly, my siblings were announcing themselves and making themselves visible. I didn't know that life could have this many people in it and not break down in the process. I had always thought that since my parents and I fought, and there were only three of us, the more people you added the more explosions you got. I was slowly, but surely, learning.

I still held the coupon in my hand. I rolled my eyes looking at the condoms. I didn't want to deal with this right then, so I put the paper away for later use, and hoped that I would be back again.

When I returned to Vivian's, the house was empty. Or at least, it was so super quiet that I took it to be empty. I knew that Cassandra had a piano lesson, so I figured that Vivian had taken her there and then gone on some errands with Gerard. It didn't occur to me that since I had the car, Cassandra probably carpooled and Vivian was still around. Thinking the place was all mine, I went right to the fridge and started to rifle through what food was left over. That was another one of the wonderful things about the never ending food. It seemed that I could keep eating and no matter what, there would be no dent.

I heard laughing, but I thought it was from how far I had stuck my head inside the fridge. It was acoustics playing tricks on me. It was when I walked over to the cupboard to pour myself a glass of milk that I began to realize it was coming from downstairs. I was right: it was laughter. Distinct giggles, actually, and from what I could tell it was Vivian.

What was she doing downstairs? Not only was she actually home, but I thought she had said she would give us space in the basement and not come down. She said she had gotten her work out of there and had stacked it along the wall in the dining room. Had she forgotten something? I walked into the dining room and saw the boxes untouched, and then walked back into the kitchen, listening. I was hesitant about going downstairs. What if I walked in on her doing something I didn't want to see? I was about to call out her name, to at least give her warning that I was home, when I heard Gerard's voice as well. But he wasn't laughing; he was moaning, and my eyes grew wide. I knew that sound; I usually made him emit that sound. My face went red and I nearly dropped my glass. I braced myself against the counter.

It was clear now that they were having sex. Or were they? Maybe they had sore muscles from all the moving and they were rubbing one another's back. Yes. That was it. That's what made the most sense. Gerard was gay, after all. I knew that Vivian was a certain exception, but I thought that had been back in art school. Did those feelings still exist now? They were very friendly with one another, but sex was something completely different.

No, it wasn't sex. They were just... together... downstairs. My chest tightened and I had no idea how to respond. I needed answers; I needed to just go down and see. I walked around in the kitchen, deliberately making noise. I wanted them to know I was home now to see if they would stop. I listened again and I heard Vivian's giggles turn into moans and both of their breathing grow heavier.

Fuck. They were fucking. No, no, I didn't want that to happen. Not while I was around. I didn't care if it happened while I was gone, but really? Now? While I'm on a job interview because we have no money and I seemed to be the only one trying to make a living? I thought back to last night when Gerard rejected me, and all the feelings came back in a rush. I was livid. I was scared. And I had to see if what I thought was true.

"Hey, Vivian! Hey Gerard! I'm home now and coming downstairs," I called. It may have been something a child would have done - stomp around and announce themselves because they weren't getting enough attention - but I didn't care.

I began to descend the stairs and tried to pay attention to what I heard between the stomps. I thought I could hear movement, but when I looked over, there was nothing. In spite of all my noise and announcing myself, they didn't seem to care. They didn't stop. They seemed to be far more into it than before. And worse, they were on our bed. Our bed.

"Fuck guys!" I cried, and this time, they saw me and stopped. "Did you really have to do it here? Right now? While I'm trying to get a goddamn job?"

Vivian was on top, her back to me. She had stopped all her movements and grabbed a blanket to pull it over herself. She got up first and walked towards me at the end of the staircase. Gerard took the other blanket and pulled it over himself. He sat up on the bed, but didn't come over to me. He rested his face in his hands and seemed determined to try and ignore me while Vivian walked over and was trying to make amends.

I didn't hear her. The blood was rushing through my head too fast and I was too mad to think clearly. I was just livid. Had this been her plan all along? Had this been his plan? I knew that my accusation of the bed being the point of importance was ridiculous because that was where Jasmine and I had been. But no, that was different. He was gone that night, and the power had gone out, and it was just different. He hadn't been trying to keep himself together with every last bit of strength and at the worst times in his life, like I was. I needed their support because I was falling apart along with everything else, and they were too busy fucking. And not caring!

Vivian was still talking. "Frank, it's okay, calm down. We'll talk about it later."

"No, just no no no no fuck you both," I told her in a flurry of words. "Fuck it. I don't care anymore."

All the rage and the fear that had been boiling within me, probably since she first told me I had to get a job, then exasperated by Fred, came flowing out of me. I spewed my verbal vomit and curse words at them both, and then I stormed off. I had no idea where I was going, and I didn't want to take the car, so I just went to the backyard. I sat in that deckchair and stared at that tree, and I tried to let my anger flow out of me and into the ground. I tried to breathe and think clearly, but I kept seeing red.

Дата добавления: 2015-11-14