Rooting for the Apocalypse (11)
Chapter 11: We Can Do This Together
Drama ensues when Athena invites her dirtbag boyfriend on her dysfunctional family’s vacation.
A sound like ripped ass loudens and descends upon us. What looks like a hang glider attached to a tricycle swoops overhead, low enough to high five, and rolls to a stop fifty yards down the beach. The pilot, a bulbous man on spindly legs, steps out, and a crowd of children runs over to ooh and aah at his trike. A woman approaches and talks to the pilot. Money changes hands, the pilot mounts the trike, and the mom scoops the child onto his lap. The crowd backs away to a nowhere near safe distance and the trike takes off.
Parent of the year, right there, I say.
It looks fun, Athena says. Are you going to do it?
Hell no.
I might.
It was nice knowing you. I mean, not crazy nice, but not altogether unpleasant.
Har har. Don’t you want to fly?
I want to land too.
The trike follows us down the beach, picking up tourists and making a loop around the mountain before dropping them off. It’s so loud we can’t talk when it’s taking off or landing.
If I had an rocket, I’d shoot that thing down, I say.
Wow, fun police skipping the trial, Athena says.
It’s so fucking loud. Why does he get to ruin everyone else’s day?
Because he’s doing it and no one is stopping him.
That kind of noise is violence. I am suffering bodily harm having to hear that shit all the time. It is only fair that I use violence to respond.
You don’t think a rocket is a little extreme?
No, he’s extreme. I’m reasonable. Everyone is wrong and I’m...
The trike flies overhead, and my words are drowned in the drone of mechanical flatulence. As the trike lands, it almost crashes into a game of beach volleyball. The players stop the game and applaud. The pilot dismounts and bows.
That’s right, encourage him, I say. Don’t focus on the fact that he almost killed you.
I’m going to do it, Athena says. Next run after this.
The trike takes off and vanishes. We reach the house and the trike is still nowhere to be seen.
Athena punches me in the arm, and says, You jerk, you scared him off.
I did no such thing, I say. C’mon let’s go inside.
You know what would have been really interesting information? Athena muses.
What?
Is who had the key when we left. Very interesting information.
Hmmm. Yes. I assumed it was you.
Yes. And I assumed it was you.
Am I correct in assuming now you do not have a key?
Steph! Steph! Helloooo! Are you there?
Shit. Let’s hope your parents don’t lallygag.
I can’t imagine they’ll be much longer...
We sit on the patio, leaning against the wall, sheltering in the growing evening shadow. We empty the bucket of beers.
Athena shoves me and says, You have to break in. I need to pee.
Just go in the bushes, I say.
No way! The neighbors’ll see me. C’mon, you have to break in, do it for me.
This is some manipulation shit right here.
I fiddle with the locked patio door and then check the windows, trying to slide them open.
No dice, I say. Go for a swim.
The ocean is so far, Athena whines. And so cold. I won’t be able to pee if it’s that cold.
Then you can’t have to pee that badly.
Uh, you don’t know my body.
The sound of robot farts interrupts our productive modern dialogue. The trike lands on the beach in front of the house and two pudgy men alight.
That’s your dad, I say.
No way, Athena says.
Definitely.
Frank is talking animatedly with the pilot. He clasps the pilot’s hand in both of his and shakes vigorously. The pilot boards his trike and flies away, waving. Frank salutes him.
Awww, your dad found a friend, I say.
I’m going to get the keys, Athena says.
We walk down to meet Frank on the beach. He’s staring out at the mountain, where the trike is just a speck. Athena ropes her arm into his and leans against him.
Hi Daddy, she says. How was the ride?
It was… he says. It was fine.
Do you happen to have the house keys?
Your mother has them.
Where’s mom?
She’s walking over.
Athena sighs, and says, I’m going to go for a swim. Anyone want to join me?
I’m in, I say.
Dad?
Not now.
Athena and I wade into the water. As soon as Athena gets to waist height she sags, and says, Oh, thank god.
Oh my god, I say. I’m right next to you. You’re peeing right on my leg.
Don’t act like you’re not into it.
I’d like some warning ahead of time.
I’ve been telling you I have to pee for like, an hour.
It shows how easy it is to ignore warnings. And warning signs. Humans aren’t built to deal with problems in the future.
Are you trying to punish me because I peed on your leg? Because that’s how it feels when you talk.
Okay, down you go. I slowly push Athena’s head below the waves.
Noooo, she gurgles. She fights back, splashing me in the eyes.
Ah! Pee water in my eyes!
That’s what you get. Athena kicks off my chest and breast strokes away.
Hey, your mom’s back, I say.
So what? I’m swimming now.
Kk. I’m going to grab Sofia.
I skulk after Frank and Helen and grab my real girlfriend from the shed. We launch into the waves and I paddle out to Athena. I lie on my side on the board, head propped on my arm.
Hey, I say. Come here often?
You have good balance, Athena says. You really are a natural at this.
Yeah. Just think if I’d been born in the west I’d be cool.
Cool?
Yeah. I’d be some cool, chill, surfer dude. But I grew up in the east, so I’m an angsty nutcase. You know, half the people I grew up with can’t even swim? They’ve never even been in a bath.
Why don’t you catch some waves? Last night.
You know there’s no such thing as the future. And there’s no such thing as the past. There’s only this moment. All your memories are just chemical configurations that re-create a past, but that re-creation all happens in this moment. And the future — why are we so certain it exists at all? Sure, there’s always been a moment after the moment we’re in. But that’s not going to be the case forever. I’m running out of moments here. And at the rate we’re going, the whole world is running out of moments. Ancient cultures didn’t take the sunrise for granted. They were smart that way. Whenever that sun went down it was like, shit, I hope this isn’t the end. They knew how to appreciate. And now we live in a world where it’s like, man, if the sun didn’t come up, I’m not sure I’d miss the place.
Take some waves, Athena says. She pushes my board away.