The Cake is a Lie

by mcdavis3

  After college Oakley moved to L.A. I should have seen it coming. Without the tiny chance of running into her everywhere I went, without that split second of hope every time I caught a worn-up hair bun, the city stopped being the same. She left a cloud behind over my entire city. Somehow, in my mind, she’d been just barely out of reach until then. That’s when I started writing this.

  He was definitely cheating on her.

  Part 5.

  39. Um, like, you know. (Spring, 2010)

  Duncan calls me. He’s studying at a community college in California.

  “How was your trip to San Francisco? Did you visit Mari?” I ask him.

  “It was alright, um ya, we stayed at Mari’s for a night. I brought two friends from my school though. But like, I don’t care that much about them, I feel like people, um ya know, everyone has their own autonomy. And it’s weird when I have to like facilitate someone else’s actions or guide them. Like, ya I don’t know, that’s like a weird concept. You know what I mean though. I want to be able to walk off by myself. It would have been different if it was two other people I was closer with, you know, ‘cause I would of known them better. Um, but with these guys it was like I don’t know what to tell you, I was on edge. I felt like I had to babysit them, they were really clingy. Honestly, I’m over thinking it. Mari was nice and very hospitable. We got blankets and she made us a three course dinner. You know Mari.”

  “Ya, I know what you mean.”

  Duncan has started trying to speak pretty intellectually in his early twenties. Trying to jump through more advanced mental hoops and use bigger words. But with all the pauses and “ums” he sounds like a cross between Timothy Leary and Tommy Chong. While I half listen to him a few rapid thoughts skyrocket my anxiety level. I picture Duncan’s receding hairline, his yellow teeth, his bleak career outlooks, and how he wants his soulmate to be instantly woo’d by the repulsive deodorant-less odor emanating two feet around him.

  He used to be the most popular kid at Shorecrest, I lament. Football star, cheerleading captain girlfriend who he constantly cheated on. His friendship used to validate my life. I sacrificed so many IQ points to forge a friendship for life with him.

  I need to make new friends, I think. But I can’t, it’s too hard, I don’t drink or smoke pot. I’m too anxious. It’s over for me. I lost in life. My bad mood brings with it a nasty idea, I grab my laptop.

  “Hey Duncan, tell me about something deep you’ve been thinking about lately.”

  “Uh ok. Um, well we’re coming to the point where we have fewer and fewer resources and more and more people. And like we’re so used to having these luxuries, and you know hold on, I need to figure out how to word this. Um, like we need to cut back on the crap we’ve become accustomed too. You know I just got back from burning man, and I’ve been thinking, um, a lot lately, about how people’s year long life revolves around planning burning man. Like that’s all they do, ya know.

  “We’re getting to the point that we need to take those innovative ideas, like ya know, ipads and hd and cool technology for sex, and apply it to, um like building communities and like preserving nature, ya know. We have so much potential and we’re wasting it on crap. And don’t get me wrong we need to be entertained, but, ya know it would be great if like people put a little bit more of their energy into building communities. I don’t know. Our community now is like watching celebrities online and then tweeting about it. Our lives have literally become watching a group of upper echelons through a magic screen.

  “And we think globalization is a good thing for like little countries in Asia. Um, because they get jobs ya know. But like, why can’t we help them out more in general? Why do we need them to make useless crap that we don’t need and we think makes us a happy, before we throw it out in a year, so Bangladesh can have an economy? Like why don’t we help Bangladesh out in general ya know? And in our spirit that would make us more happy. I don’t know. I mean people hate us because we make them make all our crap ya know, and we spend all of our energy on war, and um, that would be solved if we just helped each other. Like those human beings in poverty. Those people can help us move forward, and were just raping the world so we can make shit that we don’t care about. We should help them because their human beings and that means something.”

  “I feel the same way,” I answer him. “But then I think, is might right? I just get confused. Life’s so complex. We’re living in the information age and I don’t know the first thing about coding or electricity. Who are we to Elon Musk?”

  “I was just reading about our metaphysical side,” Duncan says. “How we’re in control of what we put out and our paradigm or what we believe is true. And hatred and animosity and regret and violence and hatred. Those are just going to perpetuate those things into the world. And if we can just face every day with an open heart, and ‘how can I express love in this situation?’ It’s amazing how much a little love can change someone’s mind. People really respond to that. The vibration of love is ten times the power of hate. A little bit of light spans out infinitely into the darkness.”

  “Ten times more powerful than hate? And how do they measure that?”

  “I don’t remember man, it’s just an analogy. And um, like the sad thing is I don’t think people will change. There’s a landfill twice the size of the U.S. in the Pacific Ocean between Hawaii and Cali. But until it actually affects our lives were not going to do anything about it. I think America’s going to have a big fall and crash. But I’m ready man, bring on the rapture, I’m ready for some shit to happen.”

  “But that goes against everything you just said about love.” I shout playfully. “And it’s not an actual trash continent, you can’t see it, it’s just a ton of plastic in the water.”

  “I’m not saying that’s what I want to happen, that’s just the only way were going to change ya know? And like I’m part of the problem man, I’m way too lazy. Probably because I smoke too much pot. I turn on Netflix and all of a sudden five hours has flown by. And then when I’m done my eyes hurt. Like all I do is focus on the negative sides of people, um I critique people way too much. It sucks around here, I’m bored. Like maybe I’m bitter and arrogant. Fucking people, I don’t know, it’s like if you don’t live up to my standards I don’t want to be friends with you and you can go fuck off. There’s a ton of these cocky, country douchebags here. I have a certain view of the world, and they don’t get where I’m coming from, and I don’t want to take the time to explain it to them. I have a real stick up my ass lately, I don’t know what’s going on with me. I’ve been really bitter these days. I’m bitter I don’t have more money, that I’m not more successful. I used to be so athletic and smart, I could get any girl. I don’t know what happened, I just made one fuck up after another. Our generation grew up with this overwhelming sense of entitlement. And, and it induces a false inflation of invincibility until the laws of nature kick in and steals our righteousness leaving us feeling empty and lost. Our selfishness got the best of us. We expected everything just to happen for us. We expected the world. Whatever man, I’m down to go live in a commune.”

  It’s not just Duncan. I say “um” all the time. I pause whole conversations with a loud “um” while the last piece to what I’m going to stay is still stuck on the tip of my tongue. What’s that word? Threat? Liability? You’ll finally come up with it minutes after the joke would have been funny. “She’s a liability!”

  I can still confidently pre-laugh with the best of them, halt the entire crowd as if what I’m about to say is hilarious. My mannerisms are all still there, my hands are in the right places, my voice raised to an attentive screech, always so sure I’ve still got it. And then the stumbles come out, the trips. “One of my favorite comedians does a great bit, oh what’s his name? From the Comedians of Comedy…He played Ratatouille. Do you know who I’m talking about? Oh well, he said the best Hollywood stories don’t happen when everything goes great. They happen when…oh crap, who’s the actor from W
hite Man Can’t Jump? He had tax problems..? Wesley Snipes. He said the best story is when Wesley Snipes won’t come out of his trailer and only communicates to the director through post it notes signed Blade.”

  You can always tell the kids that have partied too much. Lindsey Lohan isn’t getting those brain cells back.

  My last roommates were a group of graduate students at UW. Every night they had a ritual of watching jeopardy together. Most of the time, before I even finished reading the question, one of the girls would yell, “Lepidoptera.”

  Once, two of the categories were “History of the World from 1700-Present,” and “History of the World from 1300-Present.” Within milliseconds one of my roommates was picturing a scenario in which a “1700-Present” history professor was debating a “1300-Present” history professor as to the historical importance of 1300-1700 AD. She began imitating the “1300-Present” professor by shouting, “How can you expect to give a comprehensive analysis of World War I without fully understanding the 100 Years War?” I didn’t even laugh it was so funny, I just sat frozen in awe and envy. Friday nights I could compete with them, their Jeopardy game really fell apart the drunker they got. Their jokes stopped being funny too, but they laughed just as loudly.

  In your twenties there’s no more time to dream about being able to dance like a professional, speak three different languages, dress like a professional stylist, win a Macarthur genius award, rap, make beats, act, be a blackbelt in jiu-jitsu, and program computers. And when that day comes I hope you never have to feel the pain of not being able to say for sure if drug use during your developmental years stunted your growth, lowered your IQ or exasperated your panic disorder. Haunted by perfect memories of being faded at 13 when you breathe in the evening summer air. You can’t put middle school legend on a resume.

  In America today you gotta Drake it. Just keep killing it over and over, your entire life. You can’t just kill it for a while and then fall off like a oncler. Just ask Jonsen. And you can’t fuck up for a while and then finally make it. You’ll still be tormented by the past, by that date you blew with Rick Steve’s daughter. Or the time you were in a steam room with two beautiful naked girls and the best you could do was say, “Wow, you guys are shaved. Good Job.” Acne scars never go away.

  No, you have to kill it nonstop. Who knows, play your cards right and maybe someone will write a book about you.

  40. The Wait-to-do-drugs Speech

  I’ve been trying to come up with the perfect “wait-to-do-drugs” speech to give to my preteens someday. I practice on my best friend’s cousins. They’re 15-year-old suburban pot heads. One of them, Luke, is a skater. He’s shy, comes out of his shell much more carefully. He doesn’t stray far from his clique. He wears skater everything. Somewhere along the line he got it in his head that he’s not very book smart, or it’s not cool to do well in school, either way he’s a poor student. He’s also a nice, funny, and a unique special person.

  The other cousin, Michael, he reminds me of me. Kid’s something like a go-getta. Multiple cliques, straight-A’s, all honors classes. Well, he was a straight-A student his freshman and sophomore year, B average his junior year. And by all accounts he’s the worst of the bunch. Getting high with one group before school, then blazing up with another group during lunch.

  When I give Brandon’s cousins my “wait-to-do-drugs” speech I look right at them and give them my best jaded, sad eyes look. “Look at me,” I say, “I used to be just like you. I am you, I’m future you in five years.” I pause theatrically and let that settle in. “You know what the future is like? Imagine all your friends, the ones you’ll be friends for life with. Well in the future they’re not popular anymore. They aren’t popular anymore because after high school college kids are popular. Kids in the greek system are popular, kids with full ride scholarships are popular. And past college there’s no such thing as popular anymore, only rich. In a few years all the best girls are gonna be all over those goobers who you’re cooler than, oh that’s gonna eat you up inside. Best believe those bores are learning man, their social IQ’s are growing and they’re coming for you. You know that 16 year old you’re in love with right now, that party girl, ya go ahead think about her right now, what’s her name? Sophia? Well in the future she’s so fat and busted you won’t even say hi to her when you see her.”

  “Growing up’s like when you gave up playing with Legos and stopped watching cartoons. Remember how much you loved Legos? Your brain just changes. Right now you love partying more than anything, but in a few years you’ll want to be successful more than anything. And you’re gonna need every single brain cell when that day comes. Not to be a rocket scientist, but to finish the punchlines to your jokes quickly. If everyone got memory problems the first time they smoked weed no one would smoke weed. It’s gradual, and by the time you realize it’s happened, you think, well I already have memory problems now, might as well keep getting high.”

  And they look me back straight in the eye and say, “We know Marco, we totally understand what you’re saying. No one has put it like that before. We get it.”

  That tricky little punk Michael is the worst. He says all the right things, makes you a believer.

  “I’m done man, I really am. I’m already having memory problems man. I know it’s bad for your brain and there’s healthier ways to deal with stress. I know all the cool kids turn out to be losers. Plus, everyone does it now, I want to be cool in my own way.”

  The next thing you hear is that Michael got suspended from school because a friend he was with got caught at a dance with a bong in his backpack. I haven’t been able to pinpoint where exactly in the speech I lose them, but I suspect it’s very early on.

  Summer 2010

  I go with Brandon over to his Uncle’s house to play basketball with his cousins. They’re so creative and energetic that while we play they invent a new game where you get hosed with water for every basket you miss, as the game goes on the rules get more and more elaborate.

  The big gossip is that Luke has to attack some kid at school because the guy ripped Luke and his friends off and sold them cut-up crayon pieces instead of ecstasy. Luke’s got to defend his honor. I listen to his plan, he’s just going to walk up to him at gym class and start swinging.

  “Why do you have to do it in gym class? Why don’t you fight him outside of school so you don’t get in trouble?” I ask him.

  “He doesn’t hang out at school besides class, and he hardly even goes to class.”

  “Why don’t you let it go and realize this guy is gonna end up sadder than you can ever imagine in a few years. You should buy him a cake, he saved you some serious braincells.”

  Brandon humors me and chuckles. They don’t respond.

  “Want to hear about our greatest high school fight?” That gets their attention.

  “Our senior year of high school, our friend Duncan threw a big party at his house,” I begin the story.

  “You remember Jesse Hoffman?” I ask Brandon rhetorically. Jesse Hoffman was the greatest high school football player of our era in Shoreline. He broke all the Shorecrest record books for a running back.

  “That night was the only time I’ve ever partied with him.” I brag for effect. “Well, I mean I stood in his circle for a bit.”

  “Was he nice?” Brandon asks.

  “I don’t know. Dude didn’t say a word the whole time. He didn’t have to. He was Jessie Hoffman. Why waste the energy? Why bare the stress? Even after everyone left his circle, he just stood there by himself.”

  “You didn’t even say anything to him?”

  “I just kept looking at his legs and arms wondering how he single handedly won a championship. So Duncan’s throwing this big party, Jessie Hoffman’s there. Then a new kid at Shorecrest, RJ, showed up acting real hard with his crew from his old school. And a big fight broke out, and Duncan’s house got trashed. And the new kid actually pulled out a gun creating a mass exodus. Except for one older girl who knew something abou
t being hard and decided to call this guy’s bluff. Fearlessly she went after him, and she guessed right, he wasn’t going to shoot her. But she was wrong on another important point, dude was willing to hit a girl, and he beat the shit out of her.”

  “That was the greatest fight? A girl getting beat up?” Michael snidely comments.

  “Oh, just you wait buddy,” I say, half enticingly, half sarcastically. “So it turns out that the ghetto older girl that got her ass kicked was Marcus’ sister. And the next weekend, when RJ showed up to the party that weekend, some switch went off in Marcus’ mind. Marcus saw RJ from across the house and started sprinting at him, and then he jumped, and I can’t emphasis the next part enough, Marcus actually pulled one foot straight into the air and kicked RJ in the face. K.O.’d him so hard that RJ’s bloody grill flew across the floor. Movie stuff.

  “That’s it? I’ve seen a kid get jumped with skateboards.” Luke brags.

  “My homie Tone is the baddest dude ever, he’s got those 36 crazy fists. He could woop marcus’ ass.” Michael says.

  They’re not impressed.

  “Oh whatever, I’d like to see any of you guys come close to executing a running jump-kick.” I grumble bitterly under my breathe. They laugh.

  “Ok, ok, well here’s the best part,” I promise. “Want to know what happened to Marcus?”

  They seem much less interested this time around. F-it, I’ve never been able to find any reason as to why certain things stick in your head for life. Eventually something I say has got to stick.