“Hi Joe.”
“Francisco,” I said. “Alvin’s coming back into town. We’re having dinner, just the two of us.”
“Your twin brother,” he said. “That’s great. That’s wonderful.”
Francisco never talked that much. I think he’d only been in L.A. for a year or two, and so he didn’t know that many words yet.
“We’re going to eat dinner, just the two of us.”
“Congratulations.”
“Maybe I’ll jump over the counter and check out the equipment.”
This was one of my favorite things to do, even though I’d only done it a couple of times. Francisco checked around a little, wondering where the manager was, and took a peek behind him at the girl squirting mayonnaise on a hamburger bun.
“Not right now,” he said. “I don’t want to get fired with Carmen watching.”
“You should kiss her. One day you should just kiss her right on the lips.”
“No. I can’t.”
I could always make Francisco blush. He was so in love with Carmen that he could barely even look in her direction.
“Just talk to her,” I said. “How will you ever know if you don’t try?”
It surprised me when I said that, because it’s not something I’d usually say. I must have been pretty excited if I was giving Francisco all this advice out of the blue.
Alvin showed up really late, and I’d already refilled my Coke three times by the time I saw him pull into the parking lot. I expected him to look exactly like he did the day he left Los Angeles, so happy and excited, with the pockets of his sweatshirt still filled with sand and his hair sticking up everywhere, as if falling in love had shocked him right in the heart. But now he looked just as different as he’d sounded on the phone—older and worried and tired. Even his car looked more beat up than I remembered it.
He had this big orange doggie with him now. I watched them from the window as Alvin walked all around the parking lot cleaning up after the dog with this plastic bag he had. He was really careful about it, very professional and thorough. But the dog just sat there watching him like it was bored, and it even stretched out on the ground at one point. I remember getting really angry and wanting to go over there and strangle the dog for not being more grateful for what Alvin was doing. And then suddenly I felt like jumping over the counter and running through the kitchen and out the back of the McDonald’s and never coming back, and letting Alvin wait for me all night, just to show him how I’d felt when he stuck me here with Marcus to go off and be in love in Tennessee. When that feeling went away, I cleared my tray and threw away my Coke and went outside to meet him. “Alvin,” I said. “Alvin, over here!”
I remember so well how he looked then, with the doggie lying next to him and the little baggie in his hand. He was all sunburned and peeling all over, like he’d been at the beach for a year. His green eyes had turned a little gray, and his hair was almost covering them. I don’t think he’d had a haircut since the last time I’d seen him. I found out later that he’d been driving for two days without sleeping, and I’d never seen him look so tired. But he smiled when he saw me, and he looked at me so carefully, and I could feel him having such important thoughts about me, and finally he asked, “Joe, how is it that you never change?”
“Do we hug each other now?”
He nodded. I hugged him. He smelled like a cough.
“How’s your book bag?” he asked.
“It’s good.”
“How did you do in the poker game today?”
“I have no idea.”
“There you go,” he said. “Boy, it’s good to see you, Joe.”
“Where did this dog come from?”
Alvin looked down at the dog, which was sprawled on the sidewalk, licking the slime running out of its nose. Alvin scratched the doggie underneath the chin. “He’s teaching me loyalty. A man can only learn true loyalty from a dog.”
“Where did you get him?”
“I found him down by the tracks, chasing trains. I knew he wouldn’t live long doing that, so I decided to adopt him. I thought it might be fun to train him. But it’s not the same as raising you.”
“Is he fast?”
“Pretty fast. Mostly he just loafs around. I’ve been calling him Max.”
“Are you hungry? Do we go inside and eat?”
“Not here,” said Alvin. “But good for you, Joe. You still don’t know McDonald’s is the worst possible place to eat food.”
I always tune out in the passenger seat of a car. I go into a little trance, and when I get to where I’m going, I have no idea how. Actually I’m like this almost every second of my life. I don’t know which way we drove that night. I can remember that we were on Ventura Boulevard as it was getting dark, and the street was all crowded with people and cars, and the air was blowing out of all these restaurants, carrying exciting smells into my nose, and I was starting to get hungry. On the way Alvin asked me about the imaginary conversations I’d been having with him. I told him it had only been a few times, when I especially missed him, and that maybe it happened because we were twins.
“What do we talk about?”
“We usually just joke around, remembering old times. Sometimes you try to get me to play pranks on Marcus, like put ice down his shirt while he’s sleeping. Is this a bad sign? Does it mean I’m going crazy?”
“No, no. In fact, good for you, Joe. I’m always happy to be the subject of insane hallucinations. What else do I say?”
I tried to think. It hadn’t happened for a while. “Sometimes you apologize to me.”
“For what?”
“For leaving, I guess. Sometimes you give me little puzzles that I never solve. On my first day of class, you convinced me to skip it and play poker instead.”
“What class? Since when do you take a class?”
“Marcus is making me study for the GED.”
“Marcus. Of course.” Alvin hated Marcus so much that it made him drive less carefully.
“If I don’t pass, he says I have to start high school all over again.”
“Or else?”
“He kicks me out into the street.”
“There’s Marcus in a nutshell,” said Alvin. “He thinks they teach the secrets of the world in school. How often do you go?”
“The casino is right on the way,” I said. “So far I haven’t gone at all.”
“God bless you, Joe. And now it makes no difference what Marcus thinks. You’re not stuck with him anymore.”
“Because you’re not leaving again.”
“Because we’re both leaving. Now, what kind of building is this?”
Somewhere in there we’d left the car, and we were walking on a pretty quiet street. Most of the other stores were closing up. Alvin had the doggie on a leash in one hand, and in the other he carried this little green cloth suitcase. I took a look into the window.
“I see tables. Chairs. Waiters.”
“And so?”
“It’s a restaurant.”
“Bingo. And next to the restaurant?”
“A motel.” It was so fun to be with him again.
“Jackpot,” said Alvin. “This is the White Palms Motel. Wanna say it?”
“The White Palms Motel.”
“Take a good look. Burn it in. This is where I’m staying.”
Alvin tied the doggie to a street lamp and we sat down at a table outside, in this little forest of metal heat lamps. The waitress brought us two big waters right away, which always impresses me, and I stared at the menu for a while, just for fun.
“Don’t worry, they have cheeseburgers,” said Alvin. “Now give me your opinion on this shirt.”
I took a good look at this very stiff plastic shirt he had on. It didn’t look comfortable at all, but I didn’t want to hurt his feelings. “It reminds me of a Frisbee.”
“One hundred percent biosynthetic materials. Completely indestructible. You can wash it with shampoo, right in the sink, and it will
dry in seven minutes, guaranteed. I bought it on my way down here in a store for people who always think the world is going to explode and we will have to live like futuristic savages. I bought one for you too. You want to try it on?”
“Okay.”
Alvin pulled another shirt out of his suitcase. This one was bright yellow, but otherwise exactly like his. “While I was paying for these shirts, the cashier gave me this real knowing look and told me, ‘Wise purchase, brother,’ and I was like, ‘You know it, brother,’ just so he wouldn’t stick me with some galvanized steel dagger he’d hammered out in his basement.”
The waitress came over and stood there until we finished talking. “Will you guys be ordering food?”
“We have to,” said Alvin. “If we don’t keep buying things, the whole economy will collapse. And it’s the only way you’ll let us sit here.”
“Do you have cheeseburgers?” I asked.
“We certainly do.”
“I’ll have one of those, please.”
“I forgot to read the menu,” said Alvin. “But I’d just like to eat some chicken that’s been cooked all the way through. You can surprise me with the details.”
The waitress looked worried. She didn’t hate Alvin yet, but I knew she might soon. She wrote on a pad for a while. “Any appetizers for you guys?”
“Do you have nachos?” Alvin wanted to know.
“Yes.”
“With guacamole?” I asked.
The waitress nodded and wrote it down, and I remember that she smiled at me before she went away. I liked her. I thought about becoming a waiter while I buttoned up my new shirt. It fit me pretty well, except for the sleeves, but I already wanted to be out of it. It felt like I was wearing armor. “I think my arms are too long.”
“Your arms have always been damn long. Do you still play basketball all day?”
“Some days.”
“Still better than Marcus?”
I thought it over. Lately I hadn’t seen Marcus play. “Probably.”
“Good for you,” said Alvin. “Good for you for squandering your gifts. Good for you for having insane dietary restrictions. Good for you for not being able to read. Good for you for carrying a cell phone no one ever calls. Good for you for hauling around the same book bag your whole life. Boy, I’ve missed you, Joe. Nobody changes less for the world than you do.” He got up and stood on his chair. This is actually how I picture Alvin whenever I think about him, looking down on me with his arms spread, swaying back and forth like a ghost.
“Gifts are made to be squandered,” he said. “We are meant to use them up and waste them, not to parlay them into a basketball scholarship. Never learn, never remember. Life is as short as a building on fire.”
He looked a little sick, and lost his balance climbing down. “I’m going to tell you my idea now,” he said. “The idea is that you and I will take these shirts and throw out all our other shirts, and then go sailing all around the world.”
“On a boat?”
“On a boat, Joe. Everybody has a secret dream they never speak to anyone. This is mine. I never mentioned it before because it seemed impossible.”
“We’d be sailors.”
“I’d never make any plan that would require us to hold down steady jobs. No, if we sail, we sail like princes. Our own boat, with our own crew. If anything we’ll be captains, but only when we feel like it. Eighteen is old enough to be a captain in most countries where we’ll be going.”
“You have a boat now?”
“I can buy one.” Alvin slid his little suitcase across the table and unzipped it so I could see inside. I have no idea how much money was really in there, but it was obviously too much to ever count. “If we play our cards right, this money can be a boat by tomorrow morning.”
I never asked Alvin where he got so much money, but I have a feeling that he might have told me the whole story right then and there, while I was sitting there staring at it. If I had just paid attention, then everything might have turned out differently. But I was so stunned by how much cash was in that bag that I missed everything he said. Then I smelled my cheeseburger; the waitress was coming back over. Alvin zipped up the bag and put it down next to his chair. He didn’t talk again until she’d gone away.
“I’ve checked into some prices, Joe. We have enough to sail like princes for a year or two and then retire in comfort anywhere we choose. There are beaches in Brazil where the water is warmer than your bathtub.”
“And never come back?”
“What do you have here that you can’t leave behind?”
I didn’t like being put on the spot, but I tried my best to come up with an answer. “I was thinking about becoming an astronaut.”
“Then you’re in the wrong place. There’s no space program in Los Angeles. But most of the finest astronauts of all time started out as sailors. We can certainly put your training on our itinerary.”
“Marcus is here.”
“Marcus.” Alvin started to get angry. “What did he tell you? That I’m bad for you?”
I nodded.
“That my life had probably fallen apart? That I’d try to talk you into something stupid? That you shouldn’t go along with it?”
Now that I heard Alvin repeat it all, I could remember that Marcus had told me all of these things. “Yes.”
“Did you believe him?”
“I can’t remember.”
“Joe?”
“I can’t swim. Would we have to do a lot of swimming?”
“I need you, Joe.”
I’d never heard him say that before, so I didn’t know how much I’d enjoy hearing it. I’d never been on a sailboat before, and I didn’t know anything about the ocean. I didn’t know if we’d be fishing for whales, or living in some house made out of snow, or if we’d end up floating down a river through the jungle somewhere, but it was exciting to think about sailing around the whole world with him. And I believe we really would have done it too, if we’d had a little more time.
“I need you,” repeated Alvin. “Right now you’re just about the only person I can stand. I’ve had some pretty bad luck lately.”
“What happened?”
“She’s gone.” He put his hands over his eyes and his whole body started to shake. For a second I thought he was laughing, but then I realized he was sobbing all over the place. He tried to cover his eyes, but the tears came out from under his palms. I started crying too.
“Stop it,” he said. “Don’t cry, Joe.”
“I can’t help it.” I wiped my face and blew my nose into a napkin, but I still couldn’t stop. This always happened to me whenever Alvin cried, and there was nothing I could do. “I’m sorry,” I said.
“Please stop. I can’t take it.”
“Then you stop. You stop crying.”
“You don’t even know what you’re crying about.”
“It’s not my fault,” I said. “You shouldn’t have started crying in the first place.”
“Okay, I’m stopping. I’m stopping now. Goddammit, Joe.”
Alvin took a few deep breaths and managed to calm himself down. Pretty soon I stopped too. “Okay, no more crying from anybody. Have you ever seen me smoke a cigarette?”
“No.”
“Well, you’re about to. I just started today.” Soon Alvin had a cigarette in his mouth. He took a pack of matches off the table. “They say a cigarette takes fifteen minutes off your life, but a sitcom takes twice that long, and it’s still a half hour well spent. What am I doing?” he said. “I have a perfectly good lighter, so why am I trying to strike a match? And why on my lighter? Why strike a match on a perfectly good lighter?”
He stood up. I knew he wanted to climb on the chair again, but he realized it was a bad idea, so he just stood over the table, rocking back and forth, and looking down at me. “A grown man should never strike a match on a lighter. There is no place for it in a functioning person’s life. It means that something has gone terribly wrong.” He sort of
fell back into his chair, and used the lighter on the cigarette, and tried a puff on it, and made a miserable face, and coughed up all this smoke into my eyes. “Julia’s gone.”
“Who?”
“The girl, Joe. The girl I ran away with. She left me. I wasn’t strong enough to keep her, in the end.” He held his empty glass up to one eye, and then the other one, until he wasn’t crying anymore. His eyes were all puffy and red. He tried to smile. “But there is certainly a bright side. Suppose we decided to get married some day. I get a normal job. We take out a loan to buy a nicer car. In middle age she starts to cook these watery soups. We raise a child with a predictable sense of humor. I’m probably lucky the whole situation went so horribly wrong.”
“But what happened?”
Alvin took a long, careful look around the room. Then he leaned across the table and whispered, “I went a little bit on tilt.”
The restaurant. The cheeseburger. The waitress with the funny, worried eyes. Outside afterward the street was dark and quiet. Alvin squinted up and down the sidewalk as he untied the doggie. “Do me a favor, Joe. Go around the corner and see if anybody’s been waiting for us in the parking lot.”
“Why?”
“It’ll be fun. Just pretend you’re a spy.”
I walked around the corner. The parking lot was even darker than the street, but a little farther down, behind the restaurant, I remember that the ground was sparkling. When I got a little closer, I saw it was because of all these bottle caps in the street. They’d been run over so many times they’d been pushed into the asphalt, and now they were part of the street. I guess it was the moon that made them glitter like that. Those bottle caps were pretty, and so I went over to look at them.
When I got back, Alvin was lying on the hood of the car, sleeping. The doggie was licking his arms. When I shook him, he sat up right away and said, “Have you driven at all lately?”
This One Time With Julia Page 2