The Meteoric Rise of Simon Burchwood

by Scott Semegran

  "Do you think it's someone that you know? Or do you think it's someone random, like the cable man or something?" Jason's mind went into overdrive mulling over new scenarios and culprits he never thought of before. Maybe I was giving away too much information. But as long as I didn't have to tell him anything and he could figure it out by himself, I was OK with it. I mean, how would you like to tell your best friend that his / her spouse wanted to sleep with you so their marriage would fall apart?

  "You know, we do have some new cable services that I never authorized. Maybe that means something now that I think about it. What do you think?" he asked. Right then and there, I decided that I wasn't going to say a goddamn word about what Betty said to me. I wasn't going to say anything about how she saw me naked, how she touched my zipper and asked me to have sex with her, how she stuck her tongue in my ear, or how she wanted to destroy her own marriage. I realized that I didn't have to anymore, what, with the cable man being a new suspect and all. It was beautiful. A big burden was lifted off my shoulders. "I'll have to ask my neighbors if they've seen the cable truck around lately during the day. I'll ask Mrs. Burke. She's always home during the day, watering her flowers and all. Goddamn it! I can't believe this is happening."

  "Good idea. I'd pursue it if I was you. If I had any suspicions that my Jessica was cheating on me, I'd pursue it. You have to. It's your obligation."

  "Has your wife ever done anything like this?"

  "No, never. We have a good, solid relationship built on trust and honesty." It's true. We did have a good relationship. It was everything I wanted it to be. Jessica was my best friend. I've never had any doubts about her commitment to me.

  "Good for you, Simon." Jason looked pretty goddamn depressed. He was gulping down his beer and smoking his cigarettes like they were going to be illegal tomorrow and he wouldn't be able to have them, like tonight was it. So he was drinking and smoking like a madman. I really felt sorry for him. I really did. It was really awful being in a position like mine. I mean, I felt like such a goddamn liar. It's true.

  "Do you know what you need? You need a vacation." I wasn't sure where I was going with that but I went with it. He was depressing the hell out of me with his drinking and smoking and moping all over the goddamn place.

  "A vacation? Doesn't seem like a good time to do that."

  "Why don't you come with me to New York," I said. And that was it, my solution. It was perfect. "Listen, I need someone to help me out and you need a vacation. Why don't you come with me? I'll make sure the publishing company pays for everything. I'll tell them it's a business need. They'll go for it." I'm telling you, I was a fucking genius.

  "Really?" he asked.

  "Yes, really. Please come. It would be great. Plus, you would be helping me out. I'm sure you could really use the time away to think about your situation without any interference."

  "I don't know. I don't know what Betty would say ..." You really have to keep your eye on Jason. Otherwise, he can get off track so easily.

  "It'll only be a few days. Be a man, tell her you want to go. Plus, she'll have some time to be with her cable man."

  "Hey!" That really pissed him off but I was trying to be light about the situation. Nothing helps mend a broken heart more than a little humor. It's true.

  "I'm just kidding. So, are you in?" I could see that he was really debating about the whole idea in his head. I imagined his head space to look like his living space: cluttered and rundown and messy. "Come on. You can tell her when we get home and we'll leave tomorrow. You don't have to work on Saturdays, do you? The plane leaves around noon. But you have to let me know soon so I can call the airline in the morning to get you a seat."

  "I don't know ..." He was starting to drive me crazy with his indecision. I wanted to slap him across the face.

  "You're going," I said. Someone had to be a man about it. I guess I was the one wearing the pants.

  "All right. I'm going," he said and thank God. I was about to tell him to fucking forget it. I almost did. He was driving me crazy.

  "Then it's settled. We'll pack tonight and leave in the morning. Don't worry about a thing. I'll take care of everything."

  "Thanks Simon." He looked really happy, like the boulder of sadness had been lifted. It was the least I could do, especially considering how close I was to sleeping with Betty. Like I said, she got me pretty excited. And she was an attractive young lady. It's true. I know I didn't mention it before but the goddamn guilt was getting to me. I had to get it off my chest.

  Anyway, about this time, good ol' Stanford walked into the place and Jason started whooping and hollering like a goddamn idiot. It was pretty embarrassing. Everyone in that place was looking at us like we had just taken a crap on the table and were dancing in it or something. Jason was the kind of person to do that, whooping and hollering all over the place. I was a little more subdued than that; it wasn't my style. But Jason didn't care what people thought. I mean, he was a goddamn pig, you know? He obviously didn't care. Plus, he was really getting tanked from the beer. We were going to have to order another pitcher soon.

  "Hey Simon? Stanford's here."

  "I noticed," I said, my sarcasm definitely coming through. To be quite honest, I didn't really care for Stanford all that much. I know I said we were friends when we were kids and all but I didn't like him anymore. As far as I was concerned, he was a goddamn thief. And when Jason first told me that we were going to see him, I wasn't all that excited. It's true.

  "You still aren't holding a grudge, are you?" Jason asked.

  Damn straight I was still holding a goddamn grudge. All right, I'll just come out and say it. One day after school, the three of us were hiking in the woods behind our school. We were playing like we were Green Berets or something, running through the woods, making camps and climbing trees, destroying enemy training grounds. It was great. We always had a good time together. It's true. But for the first time, Stanford asked if he could go back to my house and call his parents. For some reason, he wanted them to come get him instead of riding the goddamn bus home. So I decided, what the hell, that he was my friend and that he could come home with me. I thought it would also be nice for my parents to finally meet him since Jason and I had talked about him so much. So he walked home with me. We waved goodbye to Jason when he went to his house and Stanford followed me home. I introduced him to my parents and they asked him to stay for dinner (which he gladly did). He called his parents and gave them directions to my house. They told him they'd be there in an hour. While we waited to eat, I took him to my room and showed him my prized comic book collection. I had been collecting Spider-Man comics for years and had a pretty nice collection. Stanford loved Spider-Man too and was in awe of the immense collection I had put together. He couldn't keep his goddamn hands off my Amazing Spider-Man number six, the most valuable one in my collection. He kept looking at it and turning it over and over, checking out the front and the back. I told him that he couldn't open it because I was saving it for its collectible value. But he wouldn't put it down, even when I asked him to. He just kept saying how neat it was and how neat my collection was and how poor his goddamn family was and how he couldn't afford to collect comics. I really felt sorry for him. I really did. But I wasn't going to let him read that comic; it was too valuable to me.

  So then my mom called us into the dining room and we ate dinner. Stanford stuffed his face like he hadn't eaten in seven days or something. He was shoveling everything into his goddamn mouth like he was a starving kid from Africa. It was unbelievable. My dad even noticed when his usual portion was a little smaller than usual. And while we were eating, Stanford's parents parked out front and honked their horn so he would come out. Stanford fed us some bullshit about how his parents were too embarrassed to meet my parents because they were poor and that he had to run to my room really quick because he forgot something. And after a quick thank you, he was gone. And so was my Amazing Spider-Man number six. I noticed it was gone later that night when I went
to put my collection back in the closet. That thieving bastard had taken my most prized possession. And even though I didn't actually see him take it, I knew he took it. He couldn't keep his goddamn hands off it. I confronted him about it the next day but (of course) he denied it. And I didn't know how to get to his house so I could go look for it. That was the first time I had experienced heartbreak. It's true. Of course, our friendship dissolved soon after even though Jason tried to keep it alive. Jason didn't believe that Stanford would steal something of ours. That's always been a major disagreement between the two of us. So if you ask me if I still hold a grudge, then the answer is hell yes.

  "Yes, I still hold a grudge."

  "Over a stupid comic book?" he asked.

  "Do you know what that comic would be worth today? I should probably ask Stanford. I bet he'll know."

  Stanford greeted Jason with a handshake and a hug. He looked just like he did when he was a kid, except that he was taller and had a mustache. He was still skinny as hell and he wore these oversized glasses that looked too goddamn big for his head. But most importantly, he still wore a bowtie. He used to complain that his parents made him wear it but he obviously liked wearing one since he was still wearing one. What a goddamn liar, and a thief too. He then turned to greet me. He stuck out his hand as if nothing had ever happened when we were kids.

  "Well, if it isn't Simon Burchwood. How have you been?" he asked, grinning from ear to ear. He was a good bullshitter, I could tell. He was giving me the biggest shit-eating grin he could muster.

  "I'm fine, Stanford." I gave him the biggest shit-eating grin I could muster in return. He was such a sucker. He couldn't tell that I was still mad at him but I was. It's true.

  Jason directed us to sit down and he waved the magic finger at the bartender for another pitcher of beer and three fresh glasses. When the waitress brought them over, she asked us if we wanted anything else and Jason asked her for a pack of smokes. He was smoking up a storm. It was really unbelievable. He must have been pretty drunk or something. He was acting all loopy and goofy and kind of drooling on himself. Jason gets that way when he gets drunk. It's pretty goddamn embarrassing. Stanford kept staring at me through his big goddamn glasses.

  "It's really nice to see you, Simon. I hear you're a famous writer now."

  "Yes, that's true. My new novel, THE RISE AND FALL OF A TITAN, will be published in the next few weeks. They say I'm going to be the next John Kennedy Toole, except that I'll live to see the day that my novel is published, of course."

  "That's fantastic. You know, I teach literature down at the community college. You should come down and talk to my students. Maybe read some of your work and give them some advice on writing for a living." He kept grinning from ear to ear and beaming at me with his goddamn Coke-bottle glasses. He was looking at me like nothing ever happened when we were kids, like we never had a falling out. It was unbelievable.

  "The only advice I can give is to not take any advice. They are going to write if they want to and fail if they want. Besides, I'm leaving for New York tomorrow. I won't have the time to stop by to give a lecture." I was really starting to boil under the collar. In fact, I was livid. And his staring made it worse, like he knew that I knew that he took my Amazing Spider-Man number six. I really wanted to grab him by his scrawny throat and give him a good choke.

  "That's OK. Maybe next time. Say boys, what are we drinking?"

  "We're drinking beer. What does it look like?" I said.

  Jason noticed how quickly my tone had changed and he was giving me the crook-eye. But I didn't give him the pleasure of returning his crook-eye. Just the thought of what happened to the Spider-Man number six was making me boil. It's true. Eventually, Stanford got it in his thick head that I wasn't too pleased with his visit.

  "Simon, I get the feeling that something's bothering you? Are you upset with me?" Stanford asked. Can you believe it? He had some goddamn nerve, I tell you.

  "Yeah Simon, is something wrong?" Jason asked. And with the look of concern on his face, I didn't want to let him down. So I folded my cards. Even though I really didn't want to let go of my Spider-Man number six, I finally decided it was time to let it go.

  "No, I'm all right. I just need a breath of fresh air or something. Maybe I should step outside."

  "You want me to go with you?" Jason asked.

  "No, I'll be OK." I got up and left the goddamn thief and Jason at the table. I stepped outside for a breath of fresh air and to cool off. It was a nice, chilly evening and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. I could see the moon, big like a glowing basketball, hanging low behind the tall pine trees that surrounded the parking lot. I took a few deep breaths of the cool air. It rejuvenated me. I clapped my hands together and started reciting my mantra: It's over. It's over. It's over. It's over. I decided to go back inside and join the others. I sat down like nothing had happened and took a swig of my beer.

  "I'm glad you could join us again," Stanford said. He was really egging me on too, what, with that goddamn grin and his big glasses and his goddamn bowtie. Even though I had calmed down, I still wanted to punch him in the face. "I hope there are no hard feelings between us."

  "Oh, you mean over my Amazing Spider-Man number six?" I'm telling the truth when I say that I really didn't mean to say that. It's true. But the goddamn thief looked at me like I spit in his face or something. He was shocked.

  "You're still mad about that?" Stanford asked.

  "Yes, I'm still mad about that!" I could feel myself losing control. Jason looked shocked that I let that slip. He really did. He wanted to intervene, I could tell. But he didn't say a word. He didn't have to.

  "Well, I didn't take your stupid comic book! To tell you the truth, I was too proud to steal anything when I was a kid because I didn't want to ruin what small bit of dignity my family had left me after being so poor! So you can stick all your suspicions about me stealing your dumb comic book right up your ass!" He was pretty pissed at me, I could tell. His beady eyes were even beadier behind those thick lenses of his and his neck had swollen to twice its size behind that stupid bowtie. He was so mad, he actually turned bright red. He stood up and loosened his goddamn bowtie. "Jason, it was nice seeing you again but I must be going now. I'm not going to let my evening be ruined by such ridiculousness. Good evening." And then he was gone. Man, that was a great goddamn reunion if there ever was one. It's true. Jason looked like he was pretty sore at me.

  "If you weren't taking me on this trip to New York, I'd be pretty upset with you right now," he said.

  "But he did take it. He stole that comic book from me."

  "Who cares! That was a long time ago and in the grand scheme of things, it really doesn't matter. What does it matter? It doesn't matter one bit."

  Jason got up and headed for the crapper. I finished the last of my beer and refilled my glass. I decided, right then and there, that I was going to play some Donkey Kong and forget about Stanford the goddamn thief or Amazing Spider-Man number six or my stupid suspicions and all. I waved to our waitress and she promptly came over. I gave her five bucks and asked for some quarters in change. She obliged. She was a real professional. It's true.

  "Anything else, sir?" she asked.

  "Oh yeah, and a pack of Camel Lights." This was the last night of my vacation before my big premiere in New York. So I decided to live it up. I had inhaled so much goddamn secondhand smoke that I might as well have been blazing myself. So I did. And it was fucking great.

  I made camp in front of the Donkey Kong machine with my glass of beer, my pile of quarters, my fresh pack of Camel Lights, my complimentary matches, and an ashtray. I lined up the spare quarters at the bottom of the screen, just like I did when I was a kid. That (in case you didn't know) was a sure-fire way to let people know just how serious you were at playing the game. And I was as serious as five dollars worth of quarters. I dropped the first quarter in and listened to the ridiculous cartoon-style theme song. And there was stupid Donkey Kong, scaling the girders and
stomping them into their angled positions. In his arms was my Princess Pauline, just like I remembered. It was beautiful. I decided right then and there that once I got my big advance from the publisher that I would go by my own Donkey Kong machine. I bet my kids would love it, especially Sammie. That boy loves video games. He's crazy about them. He'll sit and play for hours and he won't even go to the bathroom until he's gotten to a certain stage in the game. That boy can act pretty stupid sometimes, just like his old man. I was really getting into the game too when I heard a young lady's voice.

  "Can I bum a cigarette?" she asked. I was too busy playing the game to look. She sure had a sexy voice, though. It was nice and deep and confident. I wanted to look except that my game was just too important.

  "Sure, go ahead. There are some matches right there too." I heard her take the pack and pull out a smoke. She lit it and placed the pack back down on the machine. But she didn't walk away. I could feel her presence right next to me. I could also smell her perfume too. The scent was really distracting my game.

  "I didn't think it was really you last night until I saw you sitting with Jason over there. And then I knew it had to be you. It must be you, Simon Burchwood. Do you remember me?"

  When I heard my name, Donkey Kong didn't seem so important to me anymore. When a strange woman asks you something like that, you have to look to see who she is. It's pretty goddamn imperative. So I turned to discover the kind waitress from Cinammon's Big Boobie Bonanza smoking one of my cigarettes. She gave me the same kind smile that she gave me the other night. She looked genuinely glad to see me, like we were old friends or something.

  "It's me, Patty Green. Do you remember me?"

  And in an instant, I experienced déjà vu, a daydream, a memory, and a flashback all at once. It was pretty crazy. It's true. I didn't know what to say. And before I could turn back to my game of Donkey Kong, it was over. Game Over.