Rooting for the Apocalypse - The Shore (1)
Bonus Content - Part 1
Drama ensues when Athena invites her dirtbag boyfriend on her dysfunctional family’s vacation.
Rooting for the Apocalypse began as series of vignettes, loosely based on my life and the lives of my fellow dirtbags living in Philadelphia. The nameless dirtbag serves as a protagonist, though he never learns anything, with some repeat characters like Zak and Athena. My goal was to combine the vignettes into a picaresque novel, but ultimately, I decided to spin out a single, long vignette to be the novella and the story bearing the title Rooting for the Apocalypse.
But I am not confined to a series of vignettes or a novel or a book. I have my own publication and I can do whatever the hell I want. So, what will follow are two vignettes, The Shore, and The Wedding, each of which are long enough to be divided into multiple parts. At the moment, they are Substack exclusives, and I have no plans to release them elsewhere.
Once these are done, I’ll be moving from dirtbag literature to horror, and I’ve been cooking up something really nasty for you.
Please note that because these stories were cut before the final draft, they have less polish than usual. Please excuse the occasional mistake.
The Shore
Part 1
A family has posted up in front of the doors of the bus station, suitcases and trash bags full of clothes ringing them like conestoga wagons. Children scream and fight over toys. The adults yell at each other and thrash their hands around, as if to attract as much attention as possible. Notice us! Acknowledge us! Help us! A girl of three or four reclines in an open suitcase packed with newspaper. Her look says it all: we have no place to go. I barge through them, careful not to make eye contact.
I message Athena and Zak: Where are you?
Zak messages back: Out front.
Athena messages back, On the bus, where are you?
I buy a ticket for a day’s wage and head to the platform. A man in ragged overalls and flip flops a loads a bicycle and four buckets full of garbage into the hatch.
I hope that motherfucker doesn’t sit next to me, the crumpled suit behind me mutters. That motherfucker smells like a dumpster. They shouldn’t let that fucker get on the bus.
He paid his fare. I board and hand my ticket to the driver. A skinny hand waves at me from the back of the bus. I make my way over and slide in next to Athena.
Cutting it close, she clucks, not looking up from her phone. Is Zak even going to make it?
He’s smoking a cigarette. He’ll be here in a second.
I was afraid I’d show up at Zak’s beach house by myself and be like, ‘Hi, Zak’s family. I’m someone you don’t know.’
The engine rumbles to life and the door squeaks closed. A hand slaps against the door and it squeaks open.
Sorry, Zak say to the bus driver. The bus pulls out of the station. Zak joins us in the back.
Trying to make it exciting? Athena says.
Zak plops into the seat behind us and leans over to rest his forearms on our seat backs. You ready for the shore? The shore, the shore, the shore?
I thought Jen was coming. I pop a downer for the ride.
She’s already there. Zak drums his fingers against the headrest. Lucky duck gets two days off a week so I told her to head over as soon as possible. Brian and Bridget are driving mom crazy and I don’t want her to be alone with them.
Who are they? I ask.
Brian is my older brother, Zak says. He says he’s thirty-six but he’s forty. Every year it’s something with him, but this year is a tsunami. I’m going to give you a little taste, a little appetizer. Brian was married before and has two kids. But then he left his family for Bridget. But last month he left Bridget to try and get back with his wife, and when that didn’t work he came back to Bridget. I guess for security or safety or force of habit or some shit. I mean, the way I see it, if you’re going to break up — break up and be single. Don’t try and get back with your wife. And then don’t go right back to your girlfriend. Actually break up. Change your life. So that happened a month ago, and they’ve been piling up dramas ever since. That’s just the top of the drama parfait. Jen was messaging me every five minutes yesterday; they were driving her nut.
Is that why you invited us down? I ask. So you don’t have to hang out with them?
It’s certainly not for your wit, Zak says.
We alight from the bus, and stretch, savoring the warm, fresh, salty air.
I take a deep breath. Ah yeah, that’s the shit.
You don’t realize how bad the city air is until you get away from it, Zak says. You think it’s good air when you’re in it all day and then you get out here and taste what actual fresh air tastes like and you just think whoooosh, zoooom, wapow!
Zak leads us around the corner and three blocks up to a tall pink house right at the edge of the beach.
Nice digs, I say.
Athena and I follow Zak through the door down a hallway, passing several bedrooms, and up a staircase to the kitchen and living room. A woman sits at the table putting together a puzzle.
Hi Mom, Zak scoops her into a hug.
Hello, hello, welcome. Zak’s mom waves to us through the hug. Call me Lisa.
Thanks so much for having us, Athena and I say, words tripping over each other.
A man who looks like the result of a human-potato breeding project lumbers behind the kitchen counter. Zak leaps on his back and pulls him into a headlock, rubbing his knuckles against the man’s bald head.
And this oaf is my brother, Brian, Zak says.
Hi guests, Brian slurs. His bloodshot eyeballs are in deep retreat amidst the folds of their black-bruised sockets.
We brought an offering. I pull a bottle of bourbon out of my backpack. I wasn’t sure what ya’ll might like so I got what I liked.
Zak releases brian from the headlock and browses the forest of liquor bottles sprouting across the kitchen counter. He frowns at a half-empty bottle of whiskey and shoots a death glance at Brian. Who needs a beer?
We’re out, Brian says.
There was a full case here Saturday, Zak says. You and Mark drank the whole thing?
Mostly Mark, Brian says. I don’t drink that shit anymore. I have class.
Damnit, Zak says. I’m gonna have to go take trash bike downtown.
Oh for heaven’s sake, Lisa says. You aren’t going to ride that thing fifty blocks downtown
I got a bike out of the neighbor’s trash, Zak explains to me and Athena. I couldn’t believe it. A little rusty, breaks are a gamble, but other than that it works fine for the beach. I’m not trying to win any races. Hey, you want to give me a ride to the store? Zak asks Brian.
Can’t. Brian walks onto the deck and lights a cigarette.
Figured as much. Zak wags his fingers as he charts out a to-do-list in his head. Alright, shots first, then I’ll give you the tour, then I’ll go get beer.
Hey hey. Jen comes down the stairs in a tanktop and bikini bottom and ties her dark hair into a bun. Brian stares at her from the deck. She stretches and yawns. You woke me up.
Zak envelopes her in his arms and squeezes her. Why are you sleeping?
It’s my day off, Jen wriggles out of Zak’s grip and goes to the fridge. She opens the door and bends forward, browsing the contents. I can do whatver I want.
Zak rests an arm on Jen’s back and pokes his head in the fridge. You did it again, babe. You bought a bunch of groceries and didn’t cook.
Hey, I cooked. Jen shakes Zak off and slams the fridge door. I cooked sandwiches.
You don’t cook sandwiches. Zak adjusts the strap of Jen’s bikini top. You prepare them.
Baloney, Jen says.
Turkey. Meatball, Zak says. I can name sandwich types too.
I cooked. Jen plants her hands on her hips. Did you give them the tour?
No, c’mon let’s go. Zak smacks Jen’s butt. Athena rolls her eyes at me.
This is the kitchen, that’s the dining room. Zak points out the obvious. That’s the proletariat deck over there. He points to Brian.
He takes Jen’s hand and leads her up the stairs; Athena and I follow, past a loft bedroom and out onto the third-floor deck. A salty, reedy milieu fills my nose. The sun dyes the ocean crimson. We all find a spot of deck to lean on, sighing and enjoying being alive. I pour everyone a double shot of bourbon, and we toss them back — or sip and grimace in Athena’s case. I’m already feeling warm and fuzzy.
This place is so quiet, I say.
I love the sky windows, Athena says. The whole place is so bright. And the view is amazing.
Do you come to this same house every year? I ask Zak.
This is our second year coming here, Zak says. The beach house we used to go too flooded. At high tide it’s underwater now.
In a few years this’ll all be under water too, I say.
Then we’ll rent a new house, Zak spits over the railing. This is a chill section, more locals, more families up here. Downtown is wild. You’re close to the bars and the clubs and everything. But it’s too crazy for me, man. All these fucking bros trying to fight you, all these woo-girls.
What’s a woo girl? Athena asks.
You know, Jen says. Those girls that get wasted and go, Woooooo! She demonstrates, screaming into the wind.