A Self Made Monster (28 page)

“Why does anybody write stuff anyway?” Jimmy blurted.

“To be elsewhere,” Alex instantly answered.

“Far out,” Claire remarked.

“It just so happens,” Edward announced. “I asked Professor—”

“Call him ‘Alex’,” Jimmy reminded.

“—I asked Alex to bring along his manuscript. He’s going to read a bit from his first chapter for us.”

“How wonderful,” Claire said. She had been reading
The Best Year of His Life
. She thought it was sick, yet she did enjoy it. “Let’s hear some right now.”

Jimmy rolled his eyes.

“A little later?” Alex asked. “There’s nothing like reading and thinking to snuff out a party before it starts.”

“Yeah,” Jimmy agreed. “Wait until we’re good and ripped. Then it’ll be bearable.”

Edward winced. But when everyone laughed at Jimmy’s remark, Edward laughed too. He fetched more drinks for everyone—the guests had grown talkative and thirsty.

Two hours later, Jimmy was face down on the floor. “What did I say about good and ripped?” he asked the carpet.

Nobody answered.

Claire and Holly were sitting on the floor, backs against the wall. They were speaking low, but animatedly, eyes wide and hands gesturing.

Jimmy studied the women. Girl talk mystified him. He had seen women talk like that before: quiet but intent, graceful yet fervent. What the hell could they be talking about? The only time Jimmy talked to people so intently was when he hated them, or when they hated him.

“What did I say about good and ripped?” Jimmy repeated. He looked to Edward or Alex for a response.

No answer.

Edward was talking almost non-stop; he paused only to wipe spilled drink from the coffee table. Alex sat quietly, nodding, sipping his drink, smoking.

Jimmy coughed into the carpet. All the goddamned cigarette smoke. He retreated into the bathroom and forced open the dirty window. He sat on the edge of the bathtub, savoring the fresh air. After five minutes, he guessed that nobody had noticed he was missing. This party did not have a star, and it was time for a bit-player to take center stage.

Jimmy stomped into the living room, raised his arms, and yelled. “What did I say about getting good and ripped!”

The others blinked at him. Then Edward snapped his fingers. “Right! Alex was going to read from his new novel!”

Alex raised his hands in mild protest. “I don’t want to bore you all.”

 
“Yes you do!” Jimmy roared. He shook a bottle of beer, removed the cap. Foam erupted from the bottle and onto his hands and shoes. He finished the beer in four athletic swigs and dropped the bottle. “I will read the novel myself.”

Edward glanced at Claire and Holly. Claire was laughing, Holly was shaking her head. Alex handed Jimmy the manuscript.

“What chapter are we on here?” Jimmy asked.

“Three,” Alex said. “Let me set this up. My protagonist is a doctor, Dr. Dave. He died then came back to life, but he doesn’t know how or why. Now he’s going through the trials and tribulations that protagonists do—in this case, a dead protagonist who’s realizing he’ll never be accepted by the living.”

“Far out,” Claire remarked.

Jimmy squinted at the manuscript page until the words came into focus. He cleared his throat, belched, and began. As the story proceeded, Holly killed time by drinking and pretending to listen. Edward and Claire laughed several times.

At one point, Edward laughed as he was swallowing beer. The brew foamed out of his nose. Jimmy stopped reading and asked Edward what was so funny. “I’m not reading this right?” Jimmy demanded.

“It’s the story that’s funny, not you.”

Jimmy re-scanned the last few paragraphs. “I don’t see any jokes here.”

“They’re not jokes,” Claire broke in. “It’s the situation.” She turned to Alex. “When the kids get pissed at their Dad for being dead…” She nodded slightly, thinking. “They just want him to go away…like he’s supposed to…” The liquor let her forget her polite laugh: her real laugh was a throaty cackle.

“Perhaps the fate of most fathers with young teens,” Alex smiled.

Jimmy finished the chapter: Dr. Dave’s patience was fraying, and he escaped his family’s bewildered exasperation by lying at the bottom of the family pool for an hour. Only the family dog showed concern. She nervously paced the pool deck, and she was soon barking in alarm as Dr. Dave remained motionless on the pool’s bottom.

Jimmy bowed as he put down the manuscript.

The audience applauded.

“One thing,” Jimmy asked Alex. “How is it that Dr. Dave came back to life?”

“Well, he died and went to hell.”

“But he’s right back where he was before.”

Alex nodded enthusiastically “Precisely. Dr. Dave’s hell is his family, his friends, and his work.” Alex paused to blow smoke rings at Jimmy. “You see, he thinks he’s better than everyone else. He thinks he’s so much better that he despises other people. He’d worn out his welcome when he was alive, and most people were relieved when he died. Now that he’s back, no one wants him back.”

“Far out,” Claire whispered.

 
“Dave’s character is established in the first chapter,” Alex noted. “He lets his guard down for a moment and says to his brother, ‘I’d rather be dead than stuck in this boring town with these dull, demanding, whining people.’”

“I can identify with that,” Jimmy announced. “I’m stuck in an empty frat house all summer long in this dirty stinking town.” Jimmy’s situation angered him, and he crushed an empty beer can between his hands.

“All your frat brothers are gone already?” Alex asked.

“Everybody. It sucks doesn’t it?”

“You have a brother named Dave,” Edward said to Alex. His tone was nearly accusing. “And your protagonist’s name is Dave.”

“I don’t remember mentioning—”

“In your first novel. It’s dedicated to your family, and there’s a special note of thanks to your brother.”

“What a memory.” David had forced Alex to acknowledge him. “Without me,” David had exclaimed, “you’d still be the drooling kid in the closet!”

Alex stood. “I’ve very much enjoyed your company, but I do have to be going. Let me use your phone to call a cab?”

“I’ll give you a ride back,” Edward insisted.

“No, please. Stay with your guests. Besides, I’d rather have a sober driver, if I may say so.” He winked at Edward.

“You haven’t done your juggling act yet,” Claire protested after Alex phoned a cab.

“So I haven’t.” Alex faced Jimmy. “May I borrow you?”

“Borrow me?”

“Thank you.” Alex gripped both Jimmy’s wrists and, like an adult amusing a child, began spinning around. Jimmy ran to keep up, but soon his toes were merely scraping the floor.

During the first three rotations, Jimmy alternately laughed and cursed. The fourth rotation lifted Jimmy off his feet. Soon he was parallel to the floor.

“Spin him faster,” Edward urged.

“Fuck you,” Jimmy howled. His stomach was queasy, and he was dizzy. The living room became a cylindrical blur; everyone’s face was featureless, except for the open laughing mouths. The laughing mouths appeared momentarily, spun away, and appeared again. Soon the room evaporated, and Jimmy could see only Alex’s manic grin.

“Look Ma,” Alex called. “No hands.” He instantly moved his grip from Jimmy’s wrists to Jimmy’s head. Jimmy’s arms flailed uselessly.

“Spin him faster,” Holly laughed.

Instead of spinning Jimmy faster, Alex raised and lowered him. Jimmy closed his eyes each time the floor rushed toward him. He heard everybody roaring. Suddenly, Jimmy’s perspective had reversed: now it was the ceiling that advanced and retreated, advanced and retreated.

Jimmy heard someone say, “Cab’s here.” He found himself on his feet, but the room still spun. Claire put a steadying hand on his shoulder and gave him a cigarette.

“Hey thanks for the demonstration!” Edward enthused.

“My pleasure,” Alex smiled. He straightened out his jacket and chuckled as Jimmy nearly fell down trying to light his cigarette.

“Yeah that was fucking fun!” Jimmy shouted.

“Hey everybody,” Edward laughed, “let’s take turns slapping Jimmy.”

“Fuck off,” Jimmy seethed. He pushed at Edward, who took a step backward.

Jimmy fell, and everyone laughed as Jimmy extended a raised middle finger at Edward. Alex noted that Jimmy looked mad enough to murder Edward.

Outside, the waiting cab sounded its horn.

“Good to see you all,” Alex said. “Happy summer everyone. And Ed?”

“Yeah?”

“Happy graduation…you too Holly.”

“Thanks!” Edward and Holly called together.

Everyone but Jimmy wished Alex a good night. Jimmy finished off the cigarette in thirty seconds and demanded another. Four cigarettes later, he felt steady enough to walk to the refrigerator for another beer.

“Good thing he didn’t let go of you,” Holly said. “You’d crash against the wall and be even shorter.”

“I was hoping it would stretch me out,” Jimmy retorted.

Everyone laughed. Claire pulled a fifth of Old Bushmill’s from her purse, uncapped it, and passed it around. Holly did not want to drink it, but Claire playfully gripped her neck and shook her.

Holly took a swig, then two more. She stood up and began spinning round. “I’m Jimmy the Stub,” she announced, “and I’m being spun by another man.”

“Ha ha ha,” Jimmy mocked. But he began laughing after a long pull on the bottle. He rose on confused legs and spun around with Holly. “I’m Holly Dish,” he announced, “and I want to sleep with Giant Jim.” Jimmy tripped over Holly’s foot and they fell laughing on the couch.

Jimmy tried to kiss Holly. She slapped him. He tried to kiss her again and got his tongue in her mouth. She jerked away and wrestled him to the floor.

“What a little creep,” Edward remarked to Claire.

“Shut up!” Jimmy managed to retort; he was struggling in Holly’s headlock and became dizzy again. “You bitch, let me go!”

“Bitch, eh?” Holly mocked. She grabbed Jimmy’s hair and pulled. Jimmy howled.

“Kick his bony ass,” Claire urged Holly.

Jimmy broke free and rolled onto his side to see several shoe tips rocket toward him. After Holly and Claire kicked Jimmy a few times, Edward decided to show his manhood. He picked up Jimmy in a bear hug and dragged him toward the door.

But Edward was nearly as drunk as Jimmy. He misjudged the stairs and fell. Edward slowly realized that Jimmy was underneath him, squirming and swearing. When Edward did not move, Jimmy punched Edward’s crotch.

“You ugly pygmy!” Edward yelled. “Get the hell cut of here.” He pushed Jimmy up the stairs, slapping him with each step. After a five minute wrestling match, Edward managed to force Jimmy outside. When Jimmy had his back against the car fender, Edward punched him in the nose. He kept hitting Jimmy until Holly came out. She yelled at him to stop.

Edward and Holly went inside and left Jimmy vomiting on his car hood.

Claire, Holly, and Edward laughed about Jimmy for ten minutes. Then Holly sighed. “I hope he can drive home.”

“Maybe he’ll kill himself,” Edward hoped.

“Yeah, himself and maybe someone else,” Claire said. She lit the two cigarettes in her mouth and passed one to Holly.

“Why don’t you go see if he’s all right?” Claire asked Edward.

“Who cares?” Edward sneered. He tried to gather his drunken wits: his plan was proceeding beyond his dreams. He had two drunken and gorgeous women in his apartment.

“The little creep’s a lot of fun,” Holly said. “We’ll need him at more parties, just to humiliate him. Besides, he loves it.”

Edward nodded, figuring that being head-locked by Holly was not half-bad. To show he was not completely heartless, he went outside, steadying himself against the wall in the stairway. He stared at his driveway, finally realized that Jimmy’s car was gone, and went back inside.

He again misjudged the stairs and fell.

Edward woke on the couch. Pain sliced through his forehead, and he feared he had cut his head on the stairs. But he realized the pain was just a headache caused by too many drinks and cigarettes.

The lights were out, so he turned on the floor lamp and surveyed the room. A few dozen empty beer bottles on the table, three ashtrays filled with butts. The carpet boasted several burn spots. He stood up but could not stop the room from spinning, so he lay back down.

The silence of his apartment mocked him.

He pondered his pathetic failure. He had gotten drunk, he had gotten in a fight with a midget, he had fallen down the stairs and passed out. And the women had left. They probably laughed when they stepped over him.

“Edward the bitch,” he muttered, “Edward with the cherry.”

He cursed himself until he had to urinate. While gathering his strength to rise, he thought he heard his refrigerator door open and close. Then he was certain he heard light footsteps hurry into his bedroom.