“A crusty, middle-aged loser is afforded a second chance at love, with tragi-comic (and self-actualized) consequences.”

---

Which window was hers’? The left or the right?
He threw the rock in the air & caught it: once, then twice, then over again; thinking it over, the thud against his hand cracking through the silent night air. He had seen this done a million times in the movies before, and he didn’t recall one single time that it didn’t work. He was going to give it a shot.
Any second now.
Thud, thud, thud…
Em would love it, he was sure. The gesture. Classically-romantic. Chivalrous. Well, not really. There was no way to climb up to her window except if he was Spider-Man; or if he lowered himself down from the roof, which he could see himself getting to via a Mouse Trap-esque Rube Goldberg setup that nature & suburbia had blended together over generations, like that tree in the neighbor’s front lawn with the long-reaching branch, that he could use to get to the neighbor’s roof, and then a hop over. He didn’t care about the neighbor so much. He was a goof.
No, forget it. Forget it! It was ridiculous! He expected himself to what, clip the carabiner that held his water bottle to his bicycle out-front to the laundry line? Tyrolene-traverse himself across, like he was James Bond? That would be pretty cool. But what was more likely to happen was him falling pathetically from the tree – after only getting maybe halfway up, barely passed the stump – and break something. His ankle, perhaps. But that was all hypothetical. Right now, he was trying to get laid, in the most dignified way possible.
Left or right window?
Crap… he dropped the rock. It tumbled a few times away from him in the grass before coming to a halt. Suddenly, things didn’t seem so quiet anymore. He was wasting time… pick one! Before somebody calls the cops. Some nosy, restless goof up at two AM on a Saturday morning! He picked the rock up and noticed it was damp now from the dew on the knoll. He looked back up at the windows, and threw the rock at the left one.
Left. He was sure that was the one. Too late now, as it tapped violently against the dormer, ricocheting off the glass & coming back at him on the ground by his feet. Why not pick it up and try again? OK, he will. He picked the same rock up and threw it back against the same window.
It sailed through the glass making a perfect hole, like a bullet. And as a gunshot would, the sound rang long & far, and it was a matter of moments before every dog in a two-block radius was getting in on the clamor. Crap! That wasn’t supposed to happen! That never happened in the movies!
What should he do? Should he stay? Should he go? Like that song… get the damn song out of your head right now, man! This is serious stuff! A light turned on through the left window – what was left of it – as a man’s silhouette approached & lifted the busted shutter. “Are you fucking nuts? Who’s out there? There’s no use hiding: I can see you from behind the shed!”
“…Hi Derrick!”
“How do you know my name? Do I have to come down there and kick your ass?”
“It’s George!”
“George? As in, Emma’s George?”
“Yes! I’m sorry I broke your window!”
“She’s not even here tonight, dude! You’re just lucky our parents are out too! What the fuck are you doing?”
“…I was trying to be romantic.”
“What?”
“I was trying to be romantic!”
“Did you think the rock was just going to bounce off like it was ‘Romeo & Juliet’? Did you even see the size of this rock?”
“I was sure it was a small one!”
“A small one? Look!” Derrick bent down and picked the rock up, holding it high up: “This thing is fucking enormous!”
“Well, it didn’t seem that big a second ago!”
“It’s huge!”
“I’ve been out here a while, OK?”
“What the Hell is going on out here?” It was the next-door goof patrol, sticking almost his entire upper body out his upstairs bedroom window, “Hey Clear-mont, do I need to be calling the cops or what?”
“No, it’s good Bob, thanks! I’m taking care of it.”
“Well take care of it faster, cause some of us are trying to sleep!”
“George, go away. I’ll call you tomorrow.” Derrick closed the shutter and the impact against the sill broke some more glass from the frame. You could hear the shards rolling down the eave, with some making it to the edge, pitter-pattering on the concrete below like rainfall. George was pretty happy with how the whole experience went, really. It could have been way worse, like, if he didn’t get along with Em’s brother. Or if Em really was home, and he got the window right after all, but it broke her glass and scared her. And then he would be explaining to her why he thought it was romantic to break her bedroom window at two o’clock in the morning.
He walked around the front of the house only to find that his bike was missing. Where did it go? Wasn’t this where he left it? How long had he been standing there?

Those bastards. He could still see the spot where he had left his bike, on top of the lawn that had now been gorged apart by hungry crows. He couldn’t even remember a time when his Mom was as concerned about their lawn: enough that she would have done any preventative work. Another crow landed a short distance from the other: they acknowledged one-another before going back to lunch. Shit, it was lunchtime. He had that “Zoom” appointment in an hour.
Zoom. Zoom! What a joke! Frank had helped him set everything up at the apartment, and now it was like his living room was out of a Cronenberg movie: wires everywhere, all over the floor; cameras watching him; a strange glow from the living room in the middle of the night that wasn’t there before… He really did live long enough to see the world become “1984”.
You aren’t that old. That was why he was taking those courses, because of that kind of talk exactly. He just wished it wasn’t “online” and was in-person instead. Talking to people was his problem. That’s what Frank told him, over and over again.
He might as well start for home. He turned the ignition over. Nothing.
Shit, not again. But again and again. The starter was dead. Or the alternator. Or something, he didn’t know. He was never a “car guy”. Fuck dammit, not again! Piece-of-shit used car, Buy & Sell bullshit! He knew he should have listened to Frank at coffee last month. He smacked his hands against the steering wheel. Frank told him: “George, don’t use the “Buy & Sell” print ads anymore, they’re no good! You have to use the app!” What app? What was Frank even talking about? On those “big-screen” phones? Everywhere he looked now, the world was moving on without him. What happened to calling someone at home from a reliable line? From a phone that actually felt comfortable to hold in your hand? At least, that’s how he saw it anyway. He pulled out his flip-phone. It was coming apart at the hinge, and the top-half with the receiver sat at a strange angle from the bottom-half with the microphone. He knew he shouldn’t have driven all the way up here: he lived in the city now, and it was at-least an hour’s drive back. He just had that feeling. He called his Auto Agency for a tow.

Hi Agnes! I’m sorry I’m late, I was having car trouble. Thanks for meeting me here. I know I said low-impact but my friend swore to me it wasn’t as fancy inside as it is out. Yeah, he helped me find it. He’s a bit of a tech-nut. You know, cause of the flip-phone! Heh-heh. You look great. Hah, if I knew you were going to look this good I would have made more of an effort myself, but these are my favorite sweatpants! At least it’s a beautiful night – you’re right. Shall we? No problem! It’s my pleasure! Chivalry is nature, not nurture.
Mm, yes. Sorry I’m staring, it’s something I’m trying to work on. Not to be cliché or anything, but you really are very beautiful. Can I take your hand? No? That’s OK, it’s too early. I’m a little nervous, I haven’t dated in a long time. You neither? You must get asked out all the time at the restaurant, though. A lot less than I’d think, huh? Well, I wouldn’t be too self-conscious about it. Most guys are only thinking about one thing anyway. No, no no not me! No, with age comes wisdom. I’m not a young man anymore, I’m just interested in getting out there, and just, meeting new people, you know? How old am I? …35? I know I could look my age better if I shaved, but I’ve been growing it out for so long that it would almost seem a waste… oh? Whatever you’d like to drink. No, I’m not a drinker. I’ve been sober for fifteen years. Just a coffee for me.

*

“Hi, sorry that I’m late everyone. I had car trouble.”
“That’s OK, George. We’re just happy that you made it, even if it was 45-minutes past.”
“Yes, well, I had a family emergency.”
“I thought you said it was car trouble.”
“…It was. Anyway.”
“Anyway, welcome back. There’s something different about you this week, in a good way. Did you trim your beard?”
“No.”
“…Anyway, we’re all just making our goals for the coming week. Did you want to share with the group how your goal-making was for last week?”
“I think it went fine.”
“Could you remind us all what your goal was?”
“My goal was to leave the house and go for a walk.”
“And did you do that?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I didn’t see the point. It was raining.”
“Ah. That right there: ‘I didn’t see the point’. That carries negative connotations. We want to remain positive in group, remember?”
“Yes. OK, I ‘preferred’ not to go out.”
“That’s better. But it wasn’t raining all week.”
“The times I had available to go outside, it was raining.”
“And you don’t have a raincoat or a jacket, or an umbrella?”
“What’s with this fucking inquisition?”
“Whoa! Please watch it with your language, George. We’ve talked about this before.”
“I know, but really, why all the noise? You don’t prod anyone else in the group like this.”
“That’s incorrect, actually. If you were on-time today, you would have been here when Tori was upset about what happened to her brother. And what was your goal last week, Tori? Tori, are you still there?”
“…Yes, I’m here. Sorry, I’m still… a little drained.”
“That’s totally fine. Just do your breathing exercises and take your time – we’re all here for you. Could you please share your goal from last week with George again?”
“…My goal was to visit my brother’s grave.”
“And you were able to, right?”
“…Yes, I was.”
“And even though you were upset about it today, we talked through it, and were able to find some more constructive words to use, instead of emotional ones, like profanity.”
“Yes.”
“And the same goes for you too, George. Even though you may be upset that you weren’t successful this week in your goal, it’s important that you take your time when you finally do get around to expressing your feelings. Especially if you’ve been compartmentalizing.”
“Who said anything about me compartmentalizing?”
“Have you ever heard of the Stoics?”
“No.”
“Well, they were a group of thinkers from Ancient Rome. …Or Greece, one of those places. Anyway, their philosophies are the basis for what we know today as Cognitive Behavioral Therapy. At their essence, they say that all emotion can be expressed constructively, so long as one can train their brain to remain impartial. Strong emotions – like grief, or anger – can be effectively communicated once enough time and attention has been paid to one’s own neutrality. In the ‘cosmic’ sense.”
“I didn’t wait six months to be accepted into this course only to be taught some mumbo-jumbo ‘B52’s’-sounding crap! I’m not the one who needs to be impartial. I’m biased. I’m fucked up. You’re the one who needs to be impartial!”
“George, you’re obviously upset…”

Does this mean I get to ask how old you are? 26! That’s not too bad, my parents had a ten-year age difference when they met. Hell, my friend? He’s a widower and his ex-wife was twenty-years-older than he was! Yeah, that’s what I told him, and he said they managed to make it work. When you find the right one, you know. No, my parents have been divorced for a long time. I spent most of my teenage years living with my Mom. No, they’ve both passed away. That’s OK. How about your parents? Oh, living in Spain, huh? After you graduated? They were pretty quick to leave then, heh? No, no, I’m just joking. Bad joke, bad joke. Just nervous. I know I said that, I’m just, assertively-stating that it is a problem. No, we shouldn’t reschedule. I’m sure. No really, I’m sure.
You know what? Maybe I will go for a glass of wine. No, my problem was drugs. Alcohol is fine. One glass isn’t going to kill me, trust me. You aren’t going to be the one who ruins my sobriety. Hey! Garcon! What’s your cheapest antifreeze? The house-special red. Oo, you make it sound so fancy for something that’s probably been stepped-on by immigrants for twelve-cents an hour, am I right? Heh-heh, I’m just kidding. Just kidding. Bad joke, bad joke.

*

A few days later and with a new alternator that cost more with the labour than just buying another used car, George pulled in to the parking spot out front of his favorite local coffee shop: the one that sold hamburgers. It was his lucky day. He usually had to park in the underground, then walk the two floors up the ramp in oncoming traffic to the inside-entrance. There was never a spot out-front for him. He did a little dance in his seat as the radio song on the blown-out seat speakers finished.
The heavy front doors of the burger joint slammed shut behind two good-looking younger women, both in tiny jean shorts and half-unbuttoned flannel shirts with white tank-tops underneath. They were wearing sunglasses, so George didn’t feel so bad staring at them as they exited – his passenger-side window directly-across from the doors – or at their butts in the side-mirror as they walked down the street & out of his life. Their shorts were so short that each leg hem ended a good inch after where their tanned butt-cheeks began.
He exhaled. Women after Em never looked at him the same way she did. Had. Had. Hey, Frank did tell him that the younger generation aren’t interested in guys with full, chest-length facial hair. And you know what he would say to Frank? “Fuck you! I look like a man!” Damn right he did. He looked at himself in the rear-view mirror but could only see from his eyes-up, and his forehead. His massive forehead, covered in tiny mosaic warts, topped with a receding hairline like a cherry on the proverbial, evolutionary milkshake.
Frank was nowhere to be seen in the dining room yet. He must be early. George fumbled for a watch he didn’t have, and then pulled his phone out of his pocket to check the time instead. Fuck! It’s Friday! We don’t get together on Fridays! What a buzzkill: he wouldn’t see Frank & the boys now until next Tuesday. And I was sure I thought it was Thursday! Still, he couldn’t be that mad. Frank was good people – maybe a little older than George would have liked as a friend, but still. A friend’s a friend. As a matter of fact, the other three guys in the group weren’t so young either: all ten-to-twenty-years older than he was now.
George lined up to order anyway. And as he stood in line, he stroked his beard. And with every stroke, a hair-or-two would break off or tear from the root, and George would look at each and every single hair before he flicked his fingers over the burger joint’s already-filthy floor & let them fall one-by-one, knowing one of these children running the place would come to clean it up later.
Ugh! This is taking forever! He could feel himself rolling his eyes. Tapping his toes. Getting frustrated. Upset. He would have “preferred” not to get upset. Because he knew it would all just come out when he got to the till. Spill out like oil onto the poor fifteen-year-old working the register, like it had before.
She didn’t look fifteen, though. She was tall. Taller than him, with her hair pulled tight into pigtails. Dark-coloured hair, almost black. With deep-set blue eyes… and freckles. It was still summer. Freckles from the sun…

*

Everything was wavy – rocking back and forth, to-and-fro… or maybe it was just him. George rubbed his eyes but the feeling wouldn’t go away. Maybe this wasn’t the best day to take an edible in the morning.
But his morning was fine. He slept in, had a cookie from his mother’s stash & a bowl of cereal and watched a movie on TV that was badly edited for time & content. Ring-ring, ring-ring…
The home phone. What is it? “Did you forget that it was my parents’ barbecue?” He did not. He apologized profusely for his tardiness, but what came out was mostly gibberish. “Just get over here, okay?”
And wild horses couldn’t drag him away once he got there, an hour after everyone had finished eating. Em’s father fired up the grill again, just for George, since everyone else had lunch already and Nana was almost ready for her nap… Em’s Dad could have gone on, but it wasn’t worth it. That boy didn’t listen. He’d listen if he shoved his foot up his ass, tabernac.
There on the deck with her legs sprawled out and her feet crossed at the end was Em. George didn’t think much of her legs other than they were long, and luscious, and tanned & wonderful, but her real beauty was in her face. Sure she had acne, but puberty is a bitch to everyone at that age, and besides, it wasn’t cystic. It blended in with her freckles. Freckles that blossomed from the sunlight.
But those legs: George really could appreciate them like the mature young man his mother thought he was. Young and shaved, fresh from the pool. Em’s family was lucky enough to have a pool, and he was lucky enough to be the boyfriend of a girl whose family had just bought a freaking pool! How cool is that? And George enjoyed that summer immensely, romancing Em in her bedroom while her brother & their folks dug up the yard: because it wasn’t good enough as an above-ground pool, “it had to be in the ground, and then seating all around it, like a cabana” her mother rattled off one morning. And George was Em’s boyfriend through the whole debacle, from beginning to end, and now, before him, were the true riches. Beautiful legs, blemish-free, by the pool. Maybe now she would let him have sex with her.
He had put his hands on her legs before, but not like he really meant it. How he felt he could reach out and touch those legs right now, and lick them, the sickly-sweet taste of her scented shaving cream in his mouth…
“What are you doing?”
“Hmm?”
“You’re staring at me. I told you that’s creepy.”
“No, no, I’m not staring.”
“You so totally are! Your tongue is hanging out and everything… you’re like something from a Bugs Bunny cartoon.”
“Are you going to come down soon?”
“Soon. How much longer til you eat?”
“I don’t know. Your Dad’s still working on it.”
“Can you ask him? I’m starting to get red.”
“Hey, Mr. Clearmon…”
“It’s Clermont, you little colis! And watch your step on my roof!” George had managed to crawl up on to the roof of the first floor’s overhanging eave – by way of Mme. Clermont’s vines – and was holding on to the guardrails of the balcony that attached to the second-floor den. He shouted up in his French-Acadian accent, made deeper by the facial hair that nearly covered his mouth while he spoke, “I’m going to make you replace every shingle that falls off that roof while you’re up there, you hear me?”
“How much longer til my lunch? I’m starving!”
“If you want salmonella I’ll gladly give it to you now, you fucking goof!” Seated close to him was Nana Clermont – Em’s grandmother, visiting from Quebec – and she smacked her son on the leg for that comment, although didn’t completely disagree with it.
“I don’t think he likes me.”
“He tolerates you.” Em caught herself staring back at George now…
“When are you going to invite your friends over for a tanning party?”
“A what?”
“A tanning party!”
“What’s that?”
“You know, where all you girls sit on deck chairs in a circle with your feet up, and all your toes are touching, and you all tan topless.”
“Really?”
“Really! And then I come around and give you all a good creaming.”
“You know, I would really love to meet your parents, and finally figure out which one gave you that imagination of yours.”
“Come kiss me.”
“Nope.”
“Come on, come kiss me.”
“No. I don’t kiss goofs.”
“You know I can’t get over this railing. You wouldn’t want me to try again, would you?” It didn’t rattle her. He reached his hand through the bars and tickled her feet – barely a twitch. She was done being cheeky and now it was time for him to leave, which he did, on his ass, using his hands & feet to shimmy his way down.
Em’s family started to leave and everyone made sure to wave goodbye to George as they did, though he hardly noticed, floating around in the pool in one of her pink inflatable things – a pony? A unicorn? Wasn’t she too old for that now? Maybe her parents didn’t know any better. “Nice to see you, George! Thanks for coming!” Sure, whatever. He took a great big bite of his burger and wiped the crumbs off into the water. Em’s father called George a goof under his breath. He took it as a term of endearment.
The inflatable spun naturally in the water until it faced the back sliding door. Em was coming out. He really did have to squint to make out the detail in her face, she was radiating so much in the sun – beat red in the cheeks, her amber hair emanating a halo, those legs exposed in a loose, wavy, white sundress with little blue flowers all over it.
George’s extremely pink, sunburned body found the energy from her presence to tilt over into the water, and walk up on his feet to the edge of the pool, leaving his half-eaten burger resting on the seat of the floatie. He beckoned Em to come over. She blushed, but she didn’t. That was OK. Her family was here. He should have expected this wasn’t all going to be about him. He climbed the steel ladder out, wrapped himself in a towel, and joined Derrick & his Dad by the barbecue. Dad was scrubbing the grill with the brush, with unusually hard strokes. Heh-heh, hard strokes. “Gentlemen!”
“George.”
“Your eyes are a little red – how’s the chlorine in the pool?” Derrick elbowed him.
“I didn’t notice anything. What were you two talking about?”
“Derrick was just telling me about the bird that hit the window last week.”
“Oh? Is that why there’s tape all over your upstairs?”
“…Mm-hmm.”
“That’s a shame. We’ve had our share of birds hit our back window but never one big enough to shatter glass before! He must have been hauling ass!”
“Yeah, maybe it was running away from a predator.” Derrick gave George a nod. And from what little Em was able to catch from mingling around, that nod meant more than her brother being friendly with her boyfriend. It was conspiratory. Whatever that word meant. It just looked suspicious.
A crash! Nana’s deck chair cracked, and one leg broke right off sending her to the ground & on her back. “Grandma, are you OK?” But the first one there to help her up was George. He checked with Dad and got a new chair. He joked that he should have to go home & stock up for him, and everyone laughed. It was like he was there at the party all-along. And in those five short minutes, Em’s dad & her brother Derrick understood why they gave this idiot a pass in the first place. Their Emmanuelle may be young and dumb, but thank God she was able to find someone who would be willing to protect her, in the way her own family would. But fuck, they wished George wasn’t such an idiot.

“Hi!”
“Hello.”
“What can I get for you?”
“Agnes? That’s your name?”
“Yeah, it’s kind of old-fashioned.”
“No, I like it. I’m an old-fashioned sort-of guy.”
“I can see that. I guess I’m an old-fashioned sort-of girl, too.”
“Oh? How so?”
“Well for one, I don’t have a smart-phone.”
“Neither do I!” George pulled his janky flip-phone out of his pocket and opened it, dangling it in front of Agnes. She laughed.
“I would show you mine, but then I have to wash my hands, and we’re kind of busy.”
Keep going, buds! You got this!
“My name’s George.”
“Nice to meet you George. What are you having?”
“A large tea, double-double.”
“Large tea, double-double…”
“I mean coffee! Large coffee, triple-triple!”
“That’s like, the completely-opposite thing, almost. Are you sure?”
“Large coffee. I’m sure. Triple-triple.”
“Okay.”
“Sorry.”
“What are you sorry about?”
“I’m distracted by how pretty you look.”
Whoops! “That was creepy.” Did I just say that out-loud?
“It was. Do you want anything else?”
Fuck it, just keep going. “Heh, your phone number?”
“Really?” She was blushing.
“Uh, yeah, why not?”
“I’m sort-of working right now.”
“Yeah, so?”
“So you’re kind of catching me off-guard here. And it’s not just your whole Gandalf vibe.”
“You could always say yes now, then tell me no later when I call you.” That’s it, dude. Lean into the anxiety – just like Neil taught you in class!
“You raise some good points, George. What would we do?”
“I don’t know, get some food? Something low-impact.”
“Nothing crazy?”
“What’s crazy to you?”
“I guess anything crazier than me thinking of giving my number to someone who looks like my Dad.” Maybe it was the line building behind him, but like a reflex, she grabbed a pen off the counter and wrote her number down on a napkin. She handed it to George, “You can pick up your drink…”
“…Right over there. I know.”
“OK.” She smiled.
Phew! Feels like my heart is going to burst out of my chest! It’s OK George, you did it! You did it! You have a girl’s number! This could be it! This could be the one! Oh, she’s so pretty, too! He looked back. She was taking the next customer. No, no no, don’t be creepy. You know that staring triggers you. It’s all good. Go Team George! Quiet woo!

You look like you’re pretty fit. Oh? Where do you hike? Oh, I used to live there! Yeah, no kidding! I would ride my bike around Eagleview all the time! I could probably even tell you a trail-or-two you didn’t know about! No, I don’t get out too often anymore. You know, busy. With work. Do I know what I want to order? No, I haven’t looked yet. Sure, we can take some time and look right now. You already know what you want? Mm, just a burger? I think I’m going for something a bit fancier. It’s not every day that I get to eat at a place like this.
It’s about time. The lady would like the burger. What do you want with that? Fries. Oh, and you want it in a lettuce wrap. Oh come on, it says it comes with a brioche bun! That sounds yummy. No, you’re watching your carbs? Up to you. I’m going to have the cannelloni. Yes, I’m aware that it takes up to 30-minutes to prepare. Yes, I can wait.
Well I wouldn’t have ordered it if I didn’t want it. We’ll just have both entrees come at the same time. No, I don’t need fucking glasses, I can see the disclaimer you guys put RIGHT UNDERNEATH IT in bold. I KNOW that’s not what you said, I’m just saying! Thank you. And another glass of this, OK? Thanks. Phew, you really have to be harsh with the staff sometimes, otherwise you never get anything your way.

*

He changed the channel. History. Pawn Stars. He had seen that one before.
He changed the channel. TLC. Some wedding show highlighting international couples.
Click. TBS. Wedding Band. He had seen this one before, a couple of hours ago.
Click. The Weather Network. Commercials. Rain expected, but they had the nerve to put the little logo with the sun behind the cloud, just to get your hopes up.
Click. BBC. A Planet Earth marathon. How many times had he seen the one about the cave covered in bat shit? He lost count.
Click. CBC. News. Too depressing.
Click. The TV listings. An ad for Shaw. Every ad was for Shaw. Shaw was his provider.
Click. FOX. Some terrible-looking sitcom with a pretty Southern girl pretending to be her twin sister for some reason. The bumbling boy-toy had just spilled his entire girly-drink all over her cleavage. The laugh track roars, as the actress’ wet, heaving bosom dominates the frame over the shock & embarrassment her character must be feeling. What a rack. George took a swig from his bottle of Coors Light. Do-do-do do do. Fade to black. Commercials.
Click. History.
Click. TLC.
Click. TBS.
Click. Weather.
Click. BBC. The winds swept over the desert as Richard Attenborough introduced some pathetic-looking insect-thing that scampered across the screen, only to be eaten moments later by a spider hiding under a rock. Was he nervous about tonight? No, he had nothing to be nervous about. He was primed. He was that spider, and that chick was the insect. Another swig.
Click. CBC. An ad for Coroner. No thank you.
Click. TV listings.
Click. FOX. Still commercials.
Click. History. He had to go to the bathroom. He turned the TV up so he could hear the Harrison clan scam another poor, naive gambler out of a collectible he found in a dumpster from the other room.
His date wasn’t for another two hours. He took his pants off and sat down on the can. Almost immediately after his warm backside hit the cold seat, out jettisoned a sheer stream of anal extraction, and the odor began to fill the room quickly like a gas chamber. He forgot to turn the fan on. He grabbed a bottle of hand soap off the sink counter and extended it as far as his arm could manage, towards the fan switch by the door. Click. It whirred to life, but it was already too late. The damage was done, and he had inhaled.
Thirty years. Where did the time go? He didn’t have Facebook so he couldn’t possibly imagine what everyone he used to know were up to. It would be so easy for him to go sign up, but what was the point? They would all just be looking at his profile contemptuously, flaunting their social wealth: the wives; the husbands; the friends. The children.
Another excretion. He really had to push hard to get it out, as it all rushed out the open cavity like a horde of zombies breaking through a barricade. And like zombies, there were no Oprah-approved S-shaped logs in the lot. He dared not look in the bowl, but he did anyway. The water was stained brown & black, and green, and it was everywhere. He wasn’t sure what the green was all about. The raw odor evaporated in to his ruddy face through the hole he’d made between his legs to peek. What a mess.
He flushed the toilet. Was this what he was wasting his life doing?

Wow, this is some good wine. It’s been a while. Phew! Yummy! You know what the problem is with a lot of these dating apps now? You just can’t read chemistry out of a few text boxes. You know what I’m talking about, you have the old phone, same as me. Ah but you still have social media. Oh, you would have a new phone if you could get one? An iPhone? Because all your friends and family have iPhones? You know, you could get one of those cheap Chinese phones from Wish that only look like an iPhone. Then you could tell people you have one, but really you have a dirty little secret. Oh I think those knock-off phones are probably fine, a lot of them are made by the same people who still make the flip-phones, so it’s gotta be legit, am I right? Like mouthwash. No, no, you should always be skeptical when you buy online, I say. My friend? the nerd? he’s actually pretty knowledgeable about all these things, for his age. oh yeah, he’s like a good thirty-years-older than i am, at least! and he ACTUALLY has an iPhone, like, a real one, not a fake one. and he tells me he uses it all the time, when he’s on the bus? cause he doesnt drive. but when he takes the long commutes he puts on a show and just hangs out. i tell ya, if it was me with one of those things, i’d be sitting in the back watching porn like no one’s business haha, no no i wouldnt really be, but i’ve seen some creepy old dudes in my travels, and i walk by them and they’ve got their giant tablets out and they’re looking at pictures of chicks’ asses on Instagram! right there on transit! like they dont even think anybody’s watching? between you and me, ive seen people fucking on the bus before. oh yeah, or at least, just fuckin goin at it, WHATEVER they were doing. okay okay i only ever saw it once but seriouzly. one of my exes, she had a bucket list. its a list of things you want to do before you die its named after some gay movie, anyway, on her list was to do it on the bus. we never did it but i gotta give it to those two cause whatever they were doin to each other sure looked like a good time! he he. sorry is this making you uncomfortable? no? youre just on your phone alot i noticed. so youre just borewd then. oh you arent bored either. you sure look like youre something you look like ure aout to fall over hehe look whos talking? phew you have a dirty mouth mm what else can that mouth do hm? im joking its a joke a joke, bad one, i’m sorry. bad joke. garcon! garcon, another glass. mm yeap iz fine foodstilll comming rite? goode.

*

After sneaking-in to a local art-house cinema that didn’t check ID, George wanted to wander the area but Em was resistant. Maybe a Cronenberg double-feature wasn’t the best choice, but damn if it wasn’t awesome, particularly with some good smoke beforehand. Plus, Em didn’t seem to catch his sadly-obvious tells, which was a plus. He could go without the anti-drug rhetoric for one night. When “Videodrome” ended, George wanted to stay for “The Brood” but Em was ready to leave.
After some persuasion they walked a block to a hot dog vendor, where George ordered a foot-long dog that Em didn’t want to share & told him there was no way he was going to finish it all himself. She was right, as always, and she scowled as he threw the last third of it into a passing garbage can. He walked with her to the bus stop.
“Well, here we are.”
“Yeah.”
“The bus doesn’t come for another ten minutes.”
“Oh? Mine should be here any minute.”
“…You’re not coming back with me?”
“No, I’m beat. I’m going to call it a night.”
“Don’t you want someone to walk home with you? Taking the downtown bus alone at night might not be the best idea.”
“I’ll manage.” There was something curt the way she said it. He thought he had watched his mouth pretty well the whole night.
“Is there something wrong?”
“No, nothing’s wrong.”
“Are you sure?”
“It’s fine.”
“Uh-oh.”
“What ‘uh-oh’?”
“When a woman says she’s ‘fine’, that means there’s a problem.”
“There’s no problem, really!”
“It was the movie, wasn’t it.”
“Not this again…”
“What?”
“I told you I liked it.”
“Yeah.”
“I mean, maybe it was a little graphic…”
“But that’s his style. I thought it was so cool, the special effects and everything…”
“It was just a little disturbing for me. I told you I don’t usually watch that stuff.”
“And we could have totally left if you had told me sooner. I thought chicks were supposed to like horror movies.”
“Now don’t get like that…”
“Like what?”
“Like you do, when you aren’t getting your way.”
“Hey, you’re the one acting like that, I haven’t done anything all night. We don’t need to throw it back at each-other.”
“Well if you’re fine, then I’m allowed to be fine too, okay? I told you it was fine we went to the movies. We have to do stuff sometimes that you like, too. It can’t all be for me.”
“No, it can’t.”
“Okay asshole…”
“I’m not being an asshole. I’m agreeing with you.”
“But, ugh! Forget it! I can see the bus coming anyway. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Wait, where are you going?”
“I told you! I’m going home! I’m done!”
“Done with what, with us?”
“No, George. That’s not what I’m saying. I’m tired, it’s been a long night, and I want to go home and lay in bed and try to not think I’m going to get kidnapped in the middle of the night and have a snuff film made about me, okay?“
“So you didn’t like the movie! Just tell me that!”
“You are missing the point, George!” Em was now at the far-end of the bus stop, lined up with the others, while George was at the other end. The line moved her ever-closer to shelter from the dying conversation, while they continued shouting at one-another, “For once, I wish we could do something that I want to do!”
“But you just said we do enough of that together!”
“Is it too much to ask to go see a show sometime? A concert? Or go to a nice restaurant and just spend some time together? All we ever do is go to my house so you can try and get your hand down my pants!”
“You know what you’re problem is?”
“What’s my problem?”
“Your communication sucks!”
“Fuck you, George! Fuck you! I don’t need this!” She was mere steps away from her freedom.
“So are we done, then? This is it? You’re not going to wait another ten minutes for the next bus so we can talk this out?”
“If I wait for your bus then I’m stuck listening to your self-justified bullshit for twice as long! I told you I would call you tomorrow!” Finally. She sat down at a window seat adjacent to George on the street, but she brushed her hair over so he couldn’t see her face as the bus pulled away.

Later that night, he tried calling her house. It didn’t seem like he was sitting there for hours – just a few minutes, until a male voice answered:
“George, you’ve got to stop calling, buddy.”
“Derrick! Can you just go get Em, please?”
“You’re keeping everyone up. She doesn’t want to talk to you tonight.”
“I’m sure that she’ll want to hear me apologize. Just go tell her that.”
“You can tell her yourself tomorrow.”
“I want to tell her right now. Go get her.”
“No. Listen George, nothing else is going to happen tonight. Go to bed.”
“I’d sleep better knowing that Em’s okay.”
“If you don’t stop calling, it’ll be my Dad answering next, and he has less patience for your crap. Understand?” Click.

whoa! whoops! haha thank u, thank u no no i’m fine, i’m fine. just sitting down a little too long is all. im fine. what are you up to now? nothing? we should go for a walk or something, stretch these old zebra legs of mine. yeah, zebra legs. no it doesn’t mean anything. i’m just being silly. yeah, a joke! a joke! nice. oh you’re only a couple of blocks away? well let me just walk you home then! yeah, pfft, i don’t have to take the bus right now, it’s ok. my bus runs all night. yeah, if you’re just over here then letz go!
whoops! hahaha oh noes! im on the ground again! haha oh, you’re going to hold me up the whole time? no i’m not complainign. haha so do u like moviez? oh my god we havent even talked baout what kinz of moviesz you like! i love mmoviez. do you like daveib cronnanfdberg? dave-ed cronenbvrerg. we did videodrome, good movie, uh spider, good movie, uh existenz, good movie. oh you havent seen any of them? neether did my ex. she didnt like those kinds of moviez. maybe girls juzt dont like those moivez HIC ex-C-OOZ ME! phew! that was wet! mm! yummy hats right. existenz was a yummy movie, it had like, little virtual realitee machines that you plug into ure bumhole. hahaha ya i bet youd like it can i touch your face? oh gosh im sorry. your just so pretty, such nice frec kles. haha ya i know some is acne. iz ok. i don mind. oh iz mostly acne. whoops sorry.
you know what would be really good rite now? some wweed. mm thats what ive been sober sfrom was weed. when i was a kid i woulod smoke my moms weed all the time i knew where she kept it she thought whshe was being so sneaky but i always found out whwere… oh you like smoking too? my ex didn’t like my smoking. heh if only wed met instead huh? hah-hah bet you didn’t realize you’d be going out with someone with mommy issues, did you? is that why you went out with me? because you have daddy issues? no i don’t need to know, i’m jsust joking around. then maybe i wouldn’t have ended up such a loser. no no it’s ok, i know i’m a loser. no you don’t need to reassure me, i’ve spent the last thirty years reassuring myself, i’m a loser. it’s alright! i can joke about it now, see? i AM learning sometihg in the course! HIC what course? nothing. no im not crying. it’s a course for whatsit, cognitive behavioural therapy. oh yeah? your brother had problems with anxiety and took something similar? yeah, it really helped him, huh? yeah well i’m trying it. yeah you were thinking of taking a similar course for yourself? you seem to have yourself together pretty well though. oh, you’re sad sometimes? mm… lots of people in my group who are lonely after COVID, you know, staying inside all the time, wearing masks, all that. wow i was having such a great time i didn’t even think to tell you this stuff.
how is this date going for you? it’s fine? uh-oh. anytime a woman says something is going “fine” it means there’s a problem. you wish some things could have been different? i wish i could have my own way more often but it never works out. like you. you’re so pretty and i would love to kiss you at the end of the night, but i’m scared. no, not scared of rejection, uh imma gona be straight with you now yes im going to be straighnt ding im actually turning fifty. 50, that’s right. big numer. oh you think so i dont look so bad for turning 50? thank you. ya im turnning 50 and you know, its been hard. ive hard a had life ahem i mean, ive had a hard life. and i’m not just saying this to try and get you into bed or anything. oh like that’s going to happen, huh? the truth comes out! hah-hah yeah no i guess im just a little scared. well about getting old, not having the time, you know, ot go back and do things differently. i know i cant go back but you know if i could, id want to go back. go back and change things.
there you go. everything you always wanted to know about george but were too afraid to ask. it’s a book title, actually. too old for you. are we almost at your place? close now? around the corner down there, huh? i think i can do that.

*

When he got to her house, George was surprised to find Derrick answering the door and not Em. Derrick showed him to the living room – even though George already knew where it was – where Em was already, sitting upright in their father’s recliner, separated from the rest of the two-seater furniture in the room. As soon as George saw Em he went in for a kiss, but before he could get too close Em stood up with her hands out, stopping him. “No no, no no no.”
“I’m sorry, can you smell something?” He smelled his pits.
“No, just… Can you sit down, George?”
“…Sure?” He did, but not before going for the seat on the couch closest to the recliner, next to the lovely one. Derrick stopped him, turned him around and pointed to the loveseat across from them, on the other side of the coffee table. “Okay, why are you both acting so weird?” He sat what felt like a world away. Em was first:
“George, I have to tell you something…”
“Yeah?”
“And I don’t want you getting upset with me like you do. So I asked my brother if he could be here with me while I told you.”
“Okay? What, do you have some sort of disease?”
“No George, I don’t have a disease.”
“Then what is it? If we don’t leave now we’re going to miss the bus downtown.”
“…We’re not going downtown tonight, George.”
“Oh?”
“I’m breaking up with you.”
“…This is some sort of joke, isn’t it?”
“No, it’s not a joke.”
“It must be though, cause, I’m not upset. And if I’m not upset, then it must not be a break-up. Because if you ever broke up with me, well, that would break my heart. Because I love you.”
“Blech!” Derrick dry-heaved while Em looked visibly uncomfortable.
“I’m upset about this, George. I’m very upset. Why aren’t you?”
“Wait… this is for real?”
“She’s not joking with you, dude,” piped up Derrick, “she’s breaking up with you and that’s it. She doesn’t want you around here anymore.”
“Derrick, I can respect that she asked you to be here, but really, this doesn’t have anything to do with you, so could you please shut up?”
“No, I’m not going to shut up. I’m here to help her so that’s what I’m doing.”
“Derrick, just calm down, okay? I think I’ve got this. I feel OK.”
“Are you sure, Sis?”
“I’m sure.”
George did his best to try and ignore Derrick’s gaze, fixing instead on Em, who was doing everything she could to look anywhere instead of directly into George’s eyes, “Em, listen, if this is because of what happened on the weekend, I told you I was sorry we didn’t go see a different movie. But that’s what I was taking you to tonight, was that new whatever-it-is, with that one hot chick you like…”
“George, I don’t want to go anywhere with you! I don’t like you anymore!”
“Why not? I’m trying here, I really am. What is it? Am I smelly?”
“No, you aren’t smelly! Well, you are smelly. But that’s not what it is.”
“Then what?”
“I don’t know! I just doing like being around you anymore! Honestly, I don’t know if I ever did!”
“But why? Can’t you give me a reason?”
“Does she?”
“…What?”
“Does she have to give you a reason?”
“Yes, I think she owes me that.”
“You’re her first boyfriend. She doesn’t owe you anything. She doesn’t like you anymore. That’s it!”
“Keep out of this, man.”
“I told you I wasn’t going to just sit back and listen to you two argue fruitlessly, man. Listen George, I’m going to level with you. And Emmy, you may not like what I’m about to say, but I have to say it. My sister? She’s an idiot. No, no, it’s true. She’s fifteen, you’re fifteen, you don’t know the world, she doesn’t know herself even. Em, do you know yet what you want to be when you graduate?”
“You’re going to ask me this now?”
“Yes. I’m making a point.”
“A point that I’m stupid!”
“Don’t be a bitch, Sis. Just tell him. What’s your future career?”
“I don’t know.”
“Don’t know what?”
“I don’t know what I’m going to do when school’s over, okay! You and Dad only ever ask me that like, all the time!”
“You do know that the earlier you can pick a direction, the sooner we can all pitch-in and help you apply for universities & scholarships?”
“Ya! I know! Duh! Can you please keep breaking up with my boyfriend for me, please?”
“George, I love my sister. I do! And what’s a good sibling’s job except to try & ward off the inevitable for as long as possible? But buddy, listen, she’s just a baby. Okay? Emmy’s decided that you’re not the right guy for her. That’s it! Maybe she’ll find the right guy next, maybe she’ll find another bum-goof & go through this all again, Hell, maybe she’ll grow a ganglion out of her nose this year and no one will want to touch her.”
“Bro, what’s a ganglion?”
“Big wart. Like, Wicked Witch of the West. Anyway. George, I hope you understand. Em, I hope my mediating your break-up in some way helped you to grow up by once-again doing nothing and making us do everything. George, since you aren’t my sister’s boyfriend anymore and you & I are not friends, unless you have to piss you can now kindly leave our house. And don’t try to get in touch with her by writing a note & trying it to a brick & throwing it through another window at two in the morning, okay?”
“Wait, that was you?”
“Derrick, why do you gotta be like this, man? I thought we were closer than that!”
“Let’s get this straight: I’ve never been on your side. As long as you made her happy, we were OK. That’s done, so this is done, too.”
“No, you know what?” George lifted himself up violently, causing the other two to rise in-tandem, “This is bullshit! If anyone is breaking up with anyone here, it’s me! Emma, you’re a frigid bitch!”
“Okay, time to leave…”
“You guys all got to speak and now I don’t get to say anything?” George was waving his finger around the place like Mussolini, pointing at everyone, “Fuck that! And fuck you both! Fuck you, Em, for not sleeping with me!”
“You’re going to tell my sister to fuck off? That’s it! Get out, man! Get out now!” Derrick started shoving him with both hands in the direction of the front door.
“I’m leaving, just get your fucking hands off of me! I’m trying to tell your sister how she ruined my fucking summer!”
Derrick punched him in the face, hard. Really hard. Hard enough that George fell backward against the front door, and Derrick had to pull him forward by the collar to get him out of the way enough to open the door and kick him out, literally. Too bad Dad wasn’t there to get in on this, “Loser!”
“Derrick, what are you doing?” But she didn’t even leave the living room to check.
You’re fine, man, you’re fine. Just get up. He tried, but, wow! He was feeling woozy now. Maybe getting up wasn’t such a good idea… and he fell over, down the five concrete steps from Em’s front door to the walkway. Derrick watched from the door til he made sure George wasn’t getting up again, and shut the door. “Hey Emma! You should have seen it! He fell down the front steps!”

“Well, here we are.”
“this is it? we’re here already?“
“Already? It’s ten o’clock, George.”
“phew, i know, i’m sorry. and i’m pooped. yeah that was a good hike. hah-ahah“
“Heh-heh yeah.”
“sao are you going to invite me up?“
“…No, I’m not.”
“…oh.“
“George, you don’t seem like such a bad guy.”
“oh?“
“You just need to grow up a little.”
“oh.“
“But you are very entertaining, in a morbid, self-deprecating kind-of way.”
“so is this going to be like those comedies where you give me a second chance and we go out on another date sometime soon?“
“I don’t know if it’s going to be a movie ending for us, George. Probably not.”
“…oh.“
“But if you ever want to talk, you still have my phone number, right?”
“yeah.“
“Well, keep it. Maybe give me a call sometime? Hah-hah, maybe not tomorrow though, okay?”
“hah haa you’re funy“
“Yeah. But you know, if you ever want to go for coffee sometime down the road, let me know. You won’t even have to text me, if I get a new phone. I’ll still be the kind of girl who likes to hear someone’s voice.”
“oh well thats nice of you.“
“Yeah. Okay? Promise you’ll call me sometime?”
“yeah.“
“I want to know how your class turns out. I’m telling you, my brother is a changed man. Just don’t give up.” She gently put her hand on George’s shoulder.
“i wont.“
“Are you sure you’re fine getting home?”
“yeah.“
“I can call a taxi, no problem?”
“no iz okay. the bus stop is right over there i see it. and theres a nice looking bench there too. thanks anyway agnes.“
“You take care of yourself now, George.”

One bump…
Then two…
Oh God, here came the third… wwww-uuuUUP!
“Hey buddy, are you OK?”
“hu wha are u talking to me? wwwuuu-uUP!“
“You just don’t sound too good.” Everyone else just stared. George thought he looked fine.
“ohh ohh i’m ok buddy, juz, don worry bout me ki? shhii why does he have to take such a bunmpy rode ugh… wwwwuu-uuuPPP!“
The man got up without another retort and moved a few seats down, like he somehow knew what was coming – a sentiment he shared with those around him in the back of the late-night bus. George was more ignorant. You can hold it down, man! You’re fine! Just twenty more stops!
wwwWWWW-UUUUUPPPPPPP!
It was like some sort of climax to a macabre opera. And George, sitting where he had in the far-back corner with the large open landing before him, was lead tenor to his own show, as he projectile-vomited red wine on his shirt, his seat, the floor – everywhere. Someone may have even called 911, but George wasn’t really paying attention. At least he aimed low.
The driver had no idea, and no one witnessing the event that night had any desire to stop the spectacle, like a car crash. This was their car crash. Mr. Bus-Driver Man continued over the bumpy road with slow, sure boosts as the wine throw-up on the floor pushed back into a wave, and then released down the cabin like a tide. The other passengers lifted their feet.
“Are you alright? Is there anything we can do for you, man?”
“wwwuupp no! no nothing! i’m fine! i’m just trying to get home!“

//jf 12.15.2022

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