Love Lucky

by Van Quattro

  Later he invites us to his little nightclub/ bar. It’s not open yet but he wants to give us a peek to see if we would come in tonight. It looks like any other little bar anywhere, you know dark and shit, but he’s showing it like it’s the fucking Taj Mahal. I want a drink but I’m not going to ask him. Jill is very cordial and interested and he’s loves it. He turns on the jukebox and plays some music from Zorba the Greek. He even shows off that he doesn’t have to put a coin in to hear it, big deal. Then he’s doing some happy Greek dance. You know where you throw your hands in the air and get low on your knees stuff. All that phony up with life stuff. Jill claps along with him and I don’t know if she’s being nice or really digging it. Finally he finishes his shameful display of loving himself and walks to us. Jill smiling says,

  “Quite lovely you have many talents.”

  “I hope you will join me tonight for a drink.” He looks at both of us but stays focused on her longest. Then to me he says, “Do you like our culture.”

  “Do you mean your dancing?”

  “That’s just a part of who we are.”

  “Yeah, I think it’s my least favorite part.” Jill nudges me. He follows with,

  “Oh you don’t like to dance?”

  “Yeah I like to dance, just not like that that.”

  “So you do not like our culture?”

  “I never said that. I like the egg pizza and ouzo, and your history and all.”

  “Aha.” His eyes start to tighten.

  “I saw the movie Zorba, so big deal you can do the same thing Anthony Quinn did sorta. I thought it was kinda stupid. And I didn’t care for the movie much.” He is silent. He rounds up all his keys and shit then shows us out without a word. While we walk down the boardwalk he says.

  “I want you to leave this island on the next boat.”

  “Fine, it comes in the morning and we’re supposed to be on that one anyway. No problem.” What a penis. Fucking poseur preying on tourists, trying to be all foreign and shit. I’m Italian dude and we never forget things.

  I spend the whole day making my case to convince Jill that guy is a douche and was trying to make a move on her and make me look bad.

  Our boat and plane trip is as strained as the day of an execution.

  Back in merry ole England I get my job back with the contractor blokes but the whole agent thing gets washed out because of the work permit deal. I still love it here but I feel restless. Been back three months now and I need to do something but I am not sure what. I want God to snatch me up and place me confidently in a realm of peace and creation. I’m tired of slaying mosquitos.

  Jill and I are more and more distant. I mean we are still together but our after fights aren’t as devotional. I haven’t seen Charles or Ava in some time now and I think I probably won’t. It makes me sad. I think I miss them for who they are more than who I wanted them to be.

  I feel a change coming, like I may need to go back to the devil’s butthole, L.A. I don’t know. Somehow I feel a little more prepared to be there.

  I am not sure how to tell Jill so I get drunk, find a way to get in a fight, and then work it in to the conversation.

  “I’m feeling kind of dead here now.”

  “What? I thought you loved it here?”

  “I do but I’m not doing anything. I need to be doing something.”

  “Like what? What do you want to do?”

  “I don’t know. You know like act or write or something.”

  “Well you can write here you know.”

  “Yeah I know. I don’t know.”

  “So that’s it? Are you going back?”

  “Yeah, I think so.”

  “You think so?”

  “I mean yeah.”

  “Okay then, there you have it. When?”

  “I’m thinking in a couple of weeks, but it won’t be for long. I’ll be back like last time. I just have to see what’s available to me.”

  “What do you mean available? You fucking hate it there. Or so you say, maybe you’re lying?”

  “Jill, I am not lying. I can’t stand it there but I don’t know what to do here.”

  “Well I can’t say I didn’t know this was coming. You’re still young and I am old as fucking London Bridge. I am sure I will die soon.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I just am going to die soon.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because I know these things. I always have. I have no family, I have nothing. Not much point in going on.”

  “So what are you saying, like killing yourself?”

  “Oh no, don’t you worry I won’t burden you. It will probably just happen.”

  “Jill, what the fuck are you saying? Don’t do this to me please.”

  “As I said, my darling, not to worry, everything will be fine. Now let’s see, shall we make a clay chicken for dinner? How about that? Can I make you a drink darling?” This is so fucking weird. I don’t know how real she is about all of this stuff. I think she has tried to kill herself once before but I don’t know the particulars. Plus, people say if you talk about suicide you probably won’t end up doing it. I only talked about mine when I was in the middle of it. But she offered to make me a drink and that’s so not like her. I want one, but I won’t take it from her. It just feels too strange like I’m playing in to her script or something. I’ll wait till she leaves then make one. She makes them weak anyway.

  Our dinner is calm. We have clay chicken smothered in lemon butter and garlic. It melts in my mouth. She has this look on her face like she’s going to be nice and strong no matter what. Almost like she’s not really in the conversation with me.

  I feel like shit the next couple of weeks but I do have to leave for now. Jill and I see each other all the same but I try to reconnect with L.A. again. She isn’t saying anything more about dying. I don’t think we’re done, not at all. I’m not looking for anyone else, I don’t think.

  She is so quiet, damn what the hell. I’m leaving in two days and that’s it. I mean, I’m sorry but what the hell should I do? As soon as I get there I’ll work then get Jill to come over and see Burbank and I can take her to Mexico or somewhere cool. I’ll show her how much I care and we can be lovers from across the world.

  I’m sad as hell saying goodbye and I’m pretty gentle. No tears just a promise.

  My faith is under a tightened greasy lid.

  Duty free is the same old shit, you know, then drinks, and airborne.

  I want to take acting lessons. I want to meet people and quit fucking up. I want to have my own life.

  I have to get an apartment and a car and stuff, I think I can do it.

  My life is going to change because I am different. I am stronger and smarter. There is no way I’m going to be the same person I was before all of this. I won’t let it happen, I’ll die first.

  I miss Jill but I don’t call everyday and it feels okay. I have to save my money if I’m going to stay here in California. I’m not even sure if I want to go to Mexico with her now because I have to get my life straightened out here. I guess I’m waiting to see where she stands with it, if she wants to go for real. She says she does, so I’ll be good with it. I mean it’ll be weird her being here and all. She’ll fly in to LAX and after a few days we’ll head to Puerto Vallarta for a week. I set it all up, reservations, money, everything. It’s my deal and I am proud of it.

  I’m back at my sister’s for the time being. I don’t think Jill wants to sleep in a tiny little adobe house with my sister and nephew in the next room so I get us a hotel nearby. My mom begs me to take her to the airport to pick Jill up. She doesn’t know who Jill is really, she just knows she’s famous. My mom is a pain in the butt most of the time because she has so many needs. I mean it’s either too hot or too cold or someone gave her a dirty look, or I’m walking too fast or too slow, or her heart is beating to fast or she’s sweating, or something, always something. I don’t feel like I exist when she’s around. But I want t
o make her proud of me regarding Jill and stuff.

  I don’t tell Jill I’m bringing my mom and when she gets off the plane, looking very tired, she seems shocked that I not alone. I introduce my mom. Jill extends her hand and says,

  “Very pleased Evelyn.” My mom blushes and looks like she’s going to pee her pants.

  “Hello,” she says and brings Jill’s hand up close to her mouth like she’s going to kiss it. Ha.

  “Mom, she’s not the Queen.”

  “Oh my dear, what am I thinking?” She lowers the hand and looks all shamey.

  It’s funny and sad that Jill seems so out of place on the streets near where I grew up. It’s so dull here, asphalt and curbs and dirt. Where does a woman like her walk here? I’m ashamed of our little house and the weeds between the cement cracks. This place speaks of nothing; the most interesting thing is where the roots of the tree are buckling the sidewalk concrete. Fucking sad. I guess Mexican’s and Gringo's fought over this land some time ago but in school they didn’t tell us much about that, only that we won and we are good for doing so. It’s America, home of the free and dirt of the dead we took it from. But Jill won’t know too much about that. So all I have is a sad dead yard to welcome her.

  I quickly show her inside the house without attaching importance to any of it, and then we drive around the town a little bit. I’m really not good at this because I think everything is all shit and disposable. I think the culture and the people are worse than replaceable, they’re here to stay. I’d love it if they could be replaced based on their assholeyness, but they can’t so they keep powering through their lives like nasty greedy children, liking themselves for it. Shit, I can give them so many reasons not to love themselves but most of the time I keep it to myself.

  We are staying one night in Burbank before we head down to San Diego for a night then on to Puerto Vallarta.

  There is no time for Jill to meet Whammy or Greg, and even if it were I would try to avoid it. My life in concept is much better than the real thing, at least to me. I don’t want her to see anymore of the reality of my measly existence. I don’t want faces to my delusions. I mean, it’s bad enough that she’s met my mom. My mom seems like a peasant compared to Jill and it makes me ashamed. My sister meets Jill and all she can say is,

  “You’re much older than I thought.” Jill’s face flushes, but she keeps her composure. Funny, it’s the first time I’ve heard that out loud and it hurt. I don’t want her to be much older. I don’t want her to wear pantsuits. I don’t want her to be hurting inside, and most of all I don’t want her to not love me.

  I’m seeing L.A. as a place to live and survive in again. I can’t understand how I have let go of England. I loved it so much. I’m not sure if I’m shedding the best thing that’s ever happened in my life because I am a fuck up, or if I’m strong enough now to take on my world without Jill. I’m trying to think of positive things regarding staying here. There’s still the Sunset strip to party on. Girls will probably find me more interesting because I’m now more worldly. I can try another real relationship and not be all possessive and obsessive. I mean I wasn’t that way with Jill, well I was sometimes, but I was able to deal with it I think. And I can really pursue my acting. People in the theater and acting world will kiss my feet when they find out I’ve been in England.

  All this stuff crawls around my head, but right now I want to show Jill a good time. She has never been to Mexico; she says she loves Spain though. I’m not sure if they are much alike, I hope so. I used to get really fucked up and go to Tijuana when I was younger. Every damn time I went some of the guys there looked like they wanted to hack me up with a machete. I didn’t do anything to piss them off I don’t think, but man when we’d try to find drugs and girls they wanted me out of the picture. They would stare at me for the longest time. It scared me. Someone told me they thought it was because of my blue eyes. I had the eyes of the devil. I don’t know, fuck man, I just wanted to get laid and buy leather shit and stuff.

  The hotel I booked in Burbank isn’t too fancy, but not bad. It has a bar and I hit it. I hope Jill is too tired from her trip and doesn’t want to have love making. I’m very confused about all that right now. I keep reminding her how brave she is for coming so far and how knackered she must be. I give Whammy a call from the hotel and tell him we're here. Simply to brag I guess.

  When we get to San Diego we eat good burritos from a roadside stand and walk the beach. I am definitely a beach person; any beach, any country, anytime. I love the water, the sand everything about it, except for showoffs maybe. I don't mean I want to be like a crusted beach bum or anything but I could live in shorts and a tee shirt for the rest of my life. In the evening I get fucked up and she doesn’t care but she has something to say about other matters. We walk the town near the bay, we cross large bridges and discuss our future. She knows we're not riding on the same train anymore.

  “This shall be our last time together.”

  “What? Why do you say that?” I don’t act all surprised trying to pretend nothing is wrong, I really want to know what she means in case she can explain something I’m still not sure of.

  “Because we are worlds apart now, my dear man. Plus, I have a gentleman who fancies me in London whom I think I quite like.”

  “Huh? You have a what? Have you been with him? Who?”

  “No don’t worry I haven’t cheated on you but he has been pursuing me for a while now. I thought you and I would have a last hurrah.”

  “A last what? When were going to tell me?” I mean I’m not freaked out but it is kind of weird. I am glad she has someone she likes, but what the hell does that mean for us? I don’t know if I can let her go completely.

  “Well, I’m telling you now darling. You’ll be fine, trust me. You are a very bright man, you will do well if you don’t end up killing yourself.”

  “No, I am through with all that. I don’t want to die anymore.”

  “Maybe not intentionally but with your drinking and such. You’re a very frightened man, Van.”

  “Thanks for the concern but I’m fine. I’m not scared of anything. If you think that then you don’t really know me at all.” I’m not pissed but shit I’ve done a ton of shit in my life that is the opposite of scared. I start laughing at the idea of being scared. She doesn't know me, fuck. It's probably good we're splitting up.

  She doesn’t talk about it anymore, which is starting to piss me off.

  “Fuck it, watch this.” I jump over the railing on the bridge we are on and I climb down to the next level, then I go even lower, grab on to a bar totally underneath the bridge and swing back and forth. The water is a couple of hundred feet below me.

  “Think I’m scared now?” I yell up to her.

  “Stop it, Van and come up here. No, you’re very brave, be careful and come on.” Shit, I ain't scared of shit. I climb up, take her hand and strut on without saying a word. That proves my fucking point. She's quiet, I can’t tell if I impressed or depressed her, but I’m impressed as hell. I looked into oblivion.

  Man the idea of her having someone else to garnish and share her life with tears at me. It haunts me. It makes me a nothing. I want her to stop it but I also want to have my new world on my terms. So I don’t say anything about it. We make love and once again I feel love for her that lives in a place that’s not always with me. It’s strange, like I can listen to a great song ten times in a row and always like it but maybe only two of those ten times it will hit me on a level that’s so raw I want to wave my hand and change the world. I want everyone to feel the power I am unable to hold in. Tonight she is like that to me. I could never deny that I love her anymore than I could deny, ‘Layla’ can wretch my heart and soothe my soul within those beautiful five minutes of the song. It’s always about love. In these moments I sweat love and it drips from my fingertips, nourishing everything it lands on. So I rub my head and my heart and my soul and the walls, everything I come in contact with, hoping my secretion will cause change a
nd keep everything this powerful forever. This isn’t any phony cocaine high either, this is from somewhere far beyond new dust, above the whimpering me. I so want the very best for Jill. I wish her the peace of forever and a part of me to take with her. I hope it’s the part of me that God adores.

  I hold her tight, spooning her. I want to transmit everything I am. She feels small but it’s okay, I have her. She is safe right now, even if she finds another love she will always be safe with me. Yeah. I feel huge.

  This morning feels generous. Soft words with lots of coffee. Excellent. Ole is today.

  Our Mexican hotel is pretty cool. It has everything. You know pool, bar, gift shop and stuff. I am way hung over so I fix that with a screwdriver. The people here seem cool like they don’t want to murder me.

  We hit the beach and it’s pretty but I think I was hoping for see through water like Greece, but this is brownish. I do dig all the tropical hills behind us but people say stay close to the hotel or you could get robbed or something.

  They actually come out and serve us drinks on the beach and I can charge it to the hotel. There are all kinds of activities going on in the water, people on parachutes, water skis, rafts and all kinds of shit. I want some of that. It's a beach Disneyland with taco's and tequila; different from Greece but I like them both.

  Jill is very peaceful this morning, like a harbor. It’s as though it's just between her and the sun today. She gives an occasional glance with a smile towards me. She looks softened by the suns glow. I order a bloody Mary. I figure I’ll just have one double to take the edge off, then I'll really start in around four o’clock or so. I down my drink and run to the ocean. I am a little buzzed and feeling awesome.

  There is a slight breeze churning up the water. All is bright and open, it feels like a day to play. I swim out to a boat and pay for an hour of skiing. I have done it once before and I remember a bit about how to stand up. It takes about five tries to get up but I do it. I feel like an Aztec warrior, a jet setting super hero. I search the beach for Jill. She must have her eyes closed because she doesn’t wave or anything. I want to yell but I think that would be stupid, greatness doesn’t yell it is simply witnessed. This sucks though, what if you’re great and no one's looking? If I had a rock I'd throw it at her, you know what I mean. So, I'm getting fancy and jumping outside of the wake. I think I’m a bit of a show off too. I have some pretty gnarly wipeouts, I mean like spastic elastic flapping on the water wipeouts, but it’s cool I can't really feel anything. I'm thinking my hour is close to being up when Jill finally waves to me. I start putting on a show like a mo fo. I try some jumps and crash, I hit the water so hard I pass out a bit. When I come to the boat guy calls for me to return the skis. He looks at me like I'm nuts. I'm cracking up. This is so much fun. I try to stay afloat long enough to find the shore. It's like I’m in some war movie and I've been shot and I need to get to the beach before I die. Jill watches. I perform.