by Van Quattro
I finally ask him if he’ll do it for me.
“So all you’d have to do is just sign these papers and I’ll do the rest.”
“I don’t know, seems like a pain in the ass Van.”
“No dad, it’s not. Just sign here.” I remember he doesn’t know how to sign his name very good.
“Hey I’ll do it for you later I don’t have a pen right now,” I say because I don’t want him to think I know he’s stupid.
“Nah, I don’t know anything about it, lets just leave it the way it is.” He’s become kinda whiny and mopey these days. He used to be crazy. He would beat the shit out of me for anything, even looking at him wrong.
“It would really help me out so I could live in England.”
“What the hell you want to live over there for? Stay here and get a job, drive a truck. Those guys make pretty good money.”
“Nah, I’m going to go back in a few days.”
“Okay, whatever.”
“So will you do it? All you…”
“Nah Van, just leave it the way it is. Why you always have to stir shit up?” Goddamn it. I fucking hate this stupid fucking place…
“Okay.”
“So hey Van, you still smoking?”
“Yeah.”
“I thought you were going to quit.”
“Yeah, I thought about it. Anyway…” Why the hell did I think it would be any different? I can’t even think of one word to say. It’s a cave here with him, there’s no visible entrance or exit and I’m stuck with a pathetic caveman. I have to get back to London. I’m getting muddy.
Jill misses me as much as I miss her. We re-pledge our love and devotion every time we speak. I tell her I am as lonely as the moon and that my heart is running a race that I’m not sure I can win without her. She sends me kisses through the phone. We decide we’re going to Greece, to some little island. Man this is so out of my world but I can’t fucking wait.
I’m lucky. Greg has been able to keep me working. Man I need dough, the phone bill is going to be over a hundred and fifty bucks.
I can leave this place forever in the drop of a hat. Man the only thing I’ll miss is the beach, and maybe my mom, and Whammy, and Greg, and my younger brother, and burritos, and the Rainbow club, but I’m not going to let any of that stop me. I am out of here in two days, back to modern civilization and fun and bangers and mash, and smiley people that aren’t poseurs, and fish and chips, and history, and Jill. England wins America, so fuck you. Plus, Elvis Costello lives there and his new album, Imperial Bedroom, is so fucking good I have to hear it at least twice a day. I will see him over there, I hope.
I get to the airport and it hits me - I am really going back. My heart swells once again with love and accomplishment and Valium. Hello friendly skies. Soar me away, God of goodness. I celebrate by slamming some drinks at the bar and going to the exclusive duty free club for my usual bottle of booze. It’d be cool if they knew me by name, ‘your usual Mr. Quattro?’ ‘Why, yes Jeeves.’
It’s a long dreamy, drunken flight. I perk up as we fly over Ireland, the greenest damn fields I have ever seen. The land under this flying can is beautiful. I drink us to a safe landing home. My Jill is just trains away.
She drops her head and becomes a little puppy when she opens the door. I take her hand and lead her to the bedroom. We make love. I am so in to it, man, I didn’t even jack off in America. I was too damn wound up, plus I wanted to be real randy for this moment to make sure my fucking mind wouldn’t take over. It works. She is happy, me too, so I make a damn clay chicken like old times and drink. Drink, drink, drink. She doesn’t even say anything about it because my intentions are pure as a teatime scone.
I’m staying with her for a few days but it’s understood I need to find my own place. I give call Brian to see if he can help me out.
“Hello”
“Hey Brian, it’s me I am back from the America. How you been? How was New York? Hey, can I come back to Chelsea?”
“You must be joking, yes?”
“Why? What do you mean?”
“What do I mean? I should sue you.”
“For what? What did I do to you? I’m sorry what ever it was.”
“There is two thousand pounds of damage to my flat.” Oh fuck, I forgot. I forgot all about his apartment.
“Oh shit. I forgot Brian. Two thousand though? How is that possible? Fuck I can fix all that stuff in a day. I’ll fix it Brian I promise, like tomorrow.”
“Yes you will but what about the glass ware and refrigerator. A thousand of that was the glass. Was that woman with you? Your older lady friend?”
“No, I was by myself. I got some bad news from L.A. I was drunk, pissed off and I smacked in to some shit.”
“You smacked into some stuff and it went hurling?”
“I was real drunk, Brian. I will make it right.”
“When I talk to her I am going to mention it, I think she was there, you shouldn’t have to be responsible for all of it.”
“No, I swear it was me.”
“Well…I told Charles what happened and he was appalled. Even he figured she was involved. So…no my dear boy you cannot stay here, you are banned.” Hell piss, he told Charles and he’ll tell Ava now. They’re going to think I’m nuts. Well…they’re nuts too. Anyway I have to make this right somehow.
I go to his place, patch up holes and touch up paint where it needs it. I get everything right that I possibly can and I tell Brian I will pay off the rest. He resigns to the idea, but sounds like he doesn’t believe me.
In a couple of days I find an upstairs bedroom for rent in Streatham, which is quite south of London proper. It’s cheap and I don’t figure on spending much time there. It’s just one small room, and half of it I can’t stand up in because the ceiling slants too low. It’s also very weird because to get to the room I have to pass the living room and dinning room. So one night I come in and the family of five are at the table having dinner and I have to like say, hi and all, then go up and stay in my room. Then if I have to use the bathroom it’s the same thing. They all watch me go in and come out. As I exit I try to keep the same expression on my face as I had when I went in so I don’t give away what I did in there, like number one or number two. Oh well, I’ve been in stranger situations. I was once at a Buddhist meeting where a high-ranking Buddhist big cheese from Japan was talking to us. She would address us one at a time and when it came time to meet me she clammed up like the priest in The Exorcist. The whole room saw her allergic reaction to me and I felt like shit at a damn peace meeting. My cloud doesn’t only rain on me; it drenches people who see my core. She avoided eye contact with me the rest of that long shameful night. So I am a bit used to people looking at me weird.
I look up the gang I worked for and they put me right back on the job. I am back in the England swing.
Jill thinks we should go to an island called, Serifos, because it is very reclusive. It’s called, Medusa’s island as well. You can see her profile in the rocks from the sea. Hell yeah, more awesome culture stuff for me. I don’t have enough money to pay my half so Jill says she’ll pick up the slack. She pays about three hundred more than me. She reassures me it’s okay. I tell her I’ll pay her back. Now I have her and Brian to pay back. I don’t say any thing about Brains place. I don’t want to remind her of that ugly period. We are doing so good now.
If you’re wondering if I still think of Deirdre, I do, about once a day. I have even thought of trying to find her but it’ll be flying too close to the sun to get to God. Jill and I will melt.
We fly into Athens and catch a cab to our hotel. The cab ride takes over an hour and the hotel as it turns out is only 3 miles away. Jill says the driver is a surly wanker for pretending not to know where the hotel is. He drives us all over the city to bump up the rate. I’m glad because I get to see the city with all its ruins and stuff. Jill is mad as hell and just wants to get to the fuuuuuuucking hotel.
It’s not a real swank place but it�
�s better than any joint I could afford alone. It’s about ten stories tall, and our room is near the top floor and has a fucking great view.
We go to port Piraeus to get our boat tickets to the island. I am so stoked. We eat some Greek food and head back to the hotel to chill. I raid the refrigerator for all the little booze bottles. There’s this drink called ouzo and Jill tells me its good, and that it tastes like anise. I remember eating anise at my grandparents for Sunday Italian dinners. We would eat it raw. I always thought it tasted like licorice, then we’d have things like homemade lasagna, yard snails and goat heads. I passed on the snails and heads, but watched my grandpa eat the eyeballs out of the goat’s head once.
I like the ouzo, sweet, and it even makes me feel more international than I already fucking am. Five bottles in I talk Jill in to going up to the roof where the pool is, we can see the lights of Athens pulsing below us. I am feeling deep sitting around in my bathing suit lit with ouzo so want to talk about plays and such. I’ve just read, Dance of Death, by Strindberg and I want to know her take on it.
“Well…it’s incredibly brutal isn’t it? Not very hopeful.”
“Yes, but to the extent that it’s non realistic. Don’t you think?”
“Oh Van, I wouldn’t say that. I think it can be very realistic. Ha, I have lived it.”
“I liked it very much.”
“Oh, why is that, are you so pessimistic?”
“No in fact the opposite, it is fascinating and a lesson in how not to be. Don’t you think that for every play regarding this kind of… like… resentment there are ten that talk about love and its glory?”
“Well perhaps, but they’re the ones not incredibly real aren’t they?”
“You think so?”
“Well…my dear man, it all takes so much work and one has to wonder if it’s at all worth it.”
“Really? I think it is.”
“Then why do you drink so much?”
“I don’t know…because I like it I guess.”
“Fair enough.”
“I truly believe that relationships and love can be wonderful beyond all.”
“You are still young.”
“What does that mean?”
“You haven’t experienced so much.”
“Are you kidding me? That play is like my life only without a wife.”
“Then why do you hold such high standard for love?”
“Because I know it’s real.”
“I am real, but not to you?”
“No, I mean yes, I love you like that.”
“Well, I don’t think you do, but it’s okay my love, we have now.”
“No, I do.” I let the conversation drop right here. I don’t want to explain myself to me, or her at this beautiful Grecian junction. The thing is, the play is good but it freaks me out a bit, really depressing. I’m just praying that’s not going to happen to me.
Greek stars shine above my head while I soak in a pool filled with Greek water probably dropped by the Gods. Check this out dad, you sit in your fucking little apartment with your wife, then you go out to get sun by the puny little pool and that’s a great day. Well, you don’t know shit. You wouldn’t know Greece from grease.
In the room we ready for bed and I am relieved that Jill doesn’t seem to want sex so I hit the sack. We have to get up early to ride in a boat, ship. This is so goddamn exciting.
The boat is twice as large as the one I fished on in Alaska, which would put it at exactly one hundred and twelve feet. There are two decks and the bar is on the bottom. Now I know it’s eight in the morning but I remember reading something a while back about how Turkish people would put brandy in their very strong coffee. So I figure two things - one, they must be doing it in the morning because it’s coffee, and two, I think we are kinda close to Turkey so it’s more than appropriate. I like a lot of these funny funky traditions in Europe.
I order some Turkish coffee and have the guy put in two shots of some foreign brandy. He doesn’t look at me weird or anything, so there. It’s perfect for a sea faring morning. The sky is so clear I think I see Zeus up there. The water is the clearest I have ever seen. I can see the bottom of this epic ocean. I want to dive in and find Atlantis. We stand at the bow feeling the mythical sea winds. Jill doesn’t know I’m butchering my coffee so she gives me a big smile.
We stop at a few islands for people to get off then continue to navigate the gentle and haunting waves.
I have a great morning buzz on when we reach Serifos. Only a couple of people get off with us. There are no motor sports allowed in this bay, meaning speedboats and sea doo’s. The village is built on the hills just below medusa’s profile. I can make her out clearly, all her snaky hair and stuff. Our hotel is an eight room older building kinda like a hostel in London and it has a boardwalk to the beach. We are booked for five days.
The first thing I want to do is explore the white houses nestled in Medusa’s cheeks. There any aren’t taxis but one of the locals runs us up in his tiny little beat up car. It’s beautiful and we can see for miles and miles across the ocean.
We spend our days on the unpopulated beaches. Jill reads and I’m trying to be a grown up traveler too but I’m feeling itchy for something. I sneak up to the little restaurant bar and grab a couple of shots of anything, then go swimming. There aren’t any waves so I just swim around looking at the bottom. Jill befriends the beach caretaker whose name is Dmitri. He hangs around, cleans up and puts out umbrellas for us. He windsurfs everyday. It looks fun so I take a lesson. I am fucking awful at it. I can’t stand on it for more than a half minute and it’s really pissing me off. He gets mad at me because I’m smacking his board around and telling him it’s a piece of shit. He can’t speak very good English but enough to make his point known.
I fucking slosh back to shore and he starts riding around like he’s the fucking silver surfer. I know he’s showing off for Jill, zipping back and forth like he’s in some Grecian formula commercial. Jill simply asks me if I had a good time and tells me I should try it again tomorrow.
We get our food at the restaurant above the beach because he cooks better than the hotel guy. He makes me a pizza everyday with an egg cooked in the middle of it. I look forward to it almost as much as my booze.
One night I can’t sleep because I am so damn hungry. I chose not to eat earlier because I was drinking. But now my stomach aches. There’s no room service and there isn’t anyone up to do anything. It’s midnight. I tell Jill I’m heading to the kitchen to fucking break in and get something to eat and it’s my right to have food at night because I am paying for this dump.
I jump some counters and fudge a door open, the best I could come up with is some potato salad and bread so I take it back to the room and chow. I eat like some explorer that has been at sea for a hundred days. I shove stuff in my mouth as Jill sleeps on.
I get back in bed to try and sleep but wake up in an hour or so and the room is layered with mosquitos. The walls crawl and the air is thick. Sounds like a dentist drill in here, they are so loud and I am being eaten to shit. They’re not bothering Jill so I take these pricks personally. I get up and grab my shoes and start to pound the little fuckers against the walls and anywhere else I can see them. I am tired and hung over and I want these things gone.
“Get the fuck out of here you assholes. I hate you,” I’m yelling. I grunt, groan and run around the room clapping and smashing. Jill wakes up and yells at me to stop and go to sleep but I tell her these fucking insects followed me from America because there’s no way there are mosquitos in Greece. The Gods couldn’t have had to deal with this shit. These are demon bugs from the bowels of Los Angeles and I have to kill them all. “DIE FUCKERS.”
They come at me like they know me. I slap myself along with everything else in sight. I try to respect Jill’s need to sleep so I silently go about my massacre, but my brain is spewing hatred. I clear a wall of the pricks and they swarm back in a matter of seconds. This is like my fucking life -
I don’t think I’ll ever kill everything but I have to keep trying. I am so wacked and bitten I finally fall down in exhaustion and sleep for a few hours.
The morning is filled with the light that excuses me from the darkness of last night. The sun shinning like a promise, and the ocean dips like a spell. I pardon myself of all insanity the night before. The walls are smeared with blood, my blood, the blood those little fuckers were swelling with as I splattered their evil into the wallpaper.
Jill will not speak to me. I tell her she doesn’t understand the forces at work last night and that all is now okay. I took care of it all and actually saved her from annihilation.
I need my egg pizza and some damn coffee with that brandy. In the restaurant we run into the owner of the hotel and he tells us if we make another scene like we did last night we will be thrown out, and he says he knows I broke in to the kitchen. I tell him it’s done and I understand. Jill doesn’t say a word. Man, none of these folks understand what I went through last night, ‘cause if they did they would be fucking congratulating me
Later that day Mr. windsurfer is showing off again cutting around the bay like Socrates on a magic carpet. What a dick. Jill is still not talking to me so I just sit and watch this dick.