The Deadbeat Club Ch. 01

He pondered a minute more, and added: "Haven't worked that out yet."

He looked at me. "Whatta' ya' think?"

"It's a start."

Jay got up and walked back over to his collaborator to continue idea development. I could sense he felt he was on to something, "…big, really big."

"Ya know," Mo said, "You look around at all these people…they're like pieces to a big puzzle. They're all looking to find out where they fit together. And none of 'em can see the big picture without the others…without finding that perfect fit with the others."

"Hmmmm…what do you think the big picture is?"

"I dunno…maybe…maybe a huge, beautiful sunrise."

I was just moving my table to get out of the sun, which was pouring in through the shop's windows.

"Not beautiful for vampires," I said.

"I guess not," he chuckled. Then he grimaced with pain.

Chapter VII: Depression

Barring early tragedy, there comes that morning we all wake up to realize that we have more past than future.

Sure, we'll continue to fill our lives with the trivia of chores and tasks to check off 'to do' lists, but we'll never quite be the same again. We'll have recognized that our lives simply veer between boredom and the minor dramas we create to escape boredom…and to escape that one unavoidable fact: In the end we all die.

There are no happy endings. The story of all our lives is a tragedy.

For this reason, I have never understood optimists.

I woke up to these happy thoughts, shaved and got dressed. I thought, perhaps, those that were truly spiritual could be optimists, thinking that something better was to come beyond this life, guided by the all powerful and loving hands of some sort of God.

I threw on my jacket and walked out to the car in the dark.

A loud crunching sound broke the silence of the morning air. I had accidentally stepped on a snail making its way across the walkway. It was crushed beyond recognition. All for no reason…without purpose.

To that snail I was like a God. Far superior in consciousness, knowledge and power. Yet, without intention or malice, I had made a simple mistake and destroyed it.

I felt suddenly depressed as I turned on the ignition to the car.

"No wonder Jeremiah prays before crossing the street," I thought.

Chapter VIII: Isolation

When I got to the coffee shop, I sipped my coffee and stared out into the darkness.

I felt someone touch my hair. Turning, I found myself looking into a smiling, pretty face. Mona was blonde and blue-eyed. She could smile sadly…as only the Irish can.

"Have you moved out yet?" I asked.

"No…he's not making it easy."

"Well, no wonder. He's losing a meal ticket. You're out handling two jobs while he sits around the house boozing and watching baseball."

I was defending her, but I realized it was sounding more like a condemnation of her judgment than a defense of her work ethic.

"Why don't you do something for yourself, for once? Take in dinner and a movie with a friend."

"I'm too tired. I'm working 60 hours a week. Plus, I don't really have the money to do it."

This had gone on for months. Mona was really having trouble making a pretty obvious decision.

"Why don't you shoot him," I kidded.

"Hmmmm…maybe. I have no other plans for the weekend," she responded in kind.

"At least when you clean up afterward, it'll be for keeps."

"Yeah, no more beer cans, and no more shot glasses!"

"I'd prefer to condemn him for his weaknesses."

"Like…?"

"Like jealousy, envy, sloth…and wife beating."

"He hasn't touched me for months."

"See. He's at his best dead drunk. Lack of consciousness brings out his best traits."

"Let's talk about something else. I don't like to think about it...about him."

"I think you were right the first time."

She smiled wearily. She was late for work.

"Mona, I know I'm beating it to death…but you should make the decision and dump him."

"I wish I could just decide and do it…like Monica. But decisions have never come easy for me."

Then she thought some and added:

"And afterward, what? I'll be all alone."

"What are you now?"

Then I thought some and added:

"What are any of us?"

Chapter IX: Recognition

The whole gang was jabbering around two tables we pushed together to accommodate us. We positioned ourselves behind a column connecting the plate glass windows, shading us from the sun. It cast a shadow across the table.

Sofia whispered with Tracy, while keeping one eye glued to her 4 year-old daughter, who was being entertained near the back of the shop by Jeremiah.

Jeremiah was wearing a paper cup on his head and tipping it with a stir stick that he held in his mouth. It was quite a trick for any simian to pull off, and the little girl loved it.

"I don't trust him," Sofia whispered to Tracy. It was loud enough for us all to hear.

"You shouldn't," Tracy agreed. "Who knows what's goin' on with him. Sure wouldn't let 'im near my kids."

"Alexis!!! Alexis!!! Come back over here!" Sofia called to her daughter.

The child smiled at her mother but was clearly too well entertained by the circus act Jeremiah was performing to respond.

Sofia stood up.

"Alexis! I said, come here – Now!"

At this point the whole group was jarred into attention. But the little girl stayed with Jeremiah, who also ignored the mother's concern.

Sofia strutted over and yanked Alexis by the hand, pulling her back to the boring confines of the group's conversation. She swatted the little girl's behind, which turned on the faucet for about 10 minutes of howls and tears.

We all took turns for the next half hour distracting Alexis from crying by either playing a game with her or reading to her.

"She flirts too much for her age," Sofia worried aloud. It seemed pretty strange to worry about a four year old flirting, so I just ignored it.

"Gee, I wonder where she gets it," Joan stage whispered to Monica.

"What the hell does that mean?" Sofia took Joan's bait and was furious.

The table went silent again.

"Take it anyway you want to," Joan added. "Maybe she's just imitating her Mom."

"Look who's talking. If your son imitated you, he'd be in here with his hands all over Monica."

Now Monica was pissed. A donnybrook was about to let loose and the whole place was getting nervous.

"OK…OK…ENOUGH!!!" I said as forcefully as I could. It was enough to get them to stop bickering. Once stifled, it was pretty funny to see them all sitting there facing away from one another like children a teacher had just stopped from fighting in the schoolyard.

All the guys were secretly loving it. Jay and Tracy were struggling to smother the smiles breaking out across their faces. And I understood why. Actually, everything the girls were saying about each other was flat out true. It was the thoughts they harbored for each other but usually kept submerged. Now, a la 'Jaws,' they had surfaced.

"…monsters John…Monsters from the Id."

A line from an old sci-fi flick whispered into my ear.

"Hey, look, I don't come here to listen to people fight," I admonished the pouting opponents.

This was only partly true. Once in a while a little catfight could provide more entertainment than listening to them talk about their nails. And when it involved them exposing each other's sexual interests, all the more so.

Gradually, we all resumed conversing about this and that. Once again, much of everyone's real opinions of each other were submerged beneath a placid sea of civility.

"I'm going to have Sonny come in and deal with that man. I don't want him around my daughter."

Sonny was Sofia's husband. According to her, he was negligent in some of his husbandly duties. Apparently, facing down little Jeremiah wasn't to be one of them.

"Look, I think he's a strange little creep too. But you might be jumping to conclusions to assume he meant Alexis any harm," I said, as reassuring as I could.

"I know his type. He keeps looking at her."

"I agree," Tracy chimed in. "I wouldn't trust him as far as I could throw him. I wouldn't let my kids near 'im."

It was pretty clear that Tracy and Sofia had histories that made them see all kinds of things most people wouldn't, and I respected that. So I just shrugged my shoulders and figured I'd let be what would be.

At just that moment, she walked in out of the sun. She was tall, blonde and even at fifty feet I could see she was the best looking thing that I'd ever seen glide into the place.

The blonde had legs that climbed for miles and a short micro-mini that showed them off. As tall and slender as she was, she still had a rack on her that I'd have bet – odds-on – were fake, but they bounced…she was for real.

Every guy at our table was checking her out, and it didn't take much intuition to figure out exactly what they were all thinking.

I rarely leered at women who walked into the shop, especially at eight in the morning. But now I wish I could have had the reserve to do so. This hot young thing made me want to do all the things Sofia's husband was negligent in doing – (that is, do them with the blonde).

Then I was struck that she smiled at me and started walking over to the table. Like most horny, old men, I now was feeling a little intimidated as to whether I'd know what the hell to say to her if she started speaking to me.

Within seconds it was clear she was definitely approaching our table and she was looking right at me.

The goddess strode up to the table, leaned over, and kissed my cheek.

"Daddy, don't you recognize me?"

The shock of recognition then hit me. It was Selene, my eldest daughter. As a blonde, I hadn't recognized her.

But I was less concerned that I didn't recognize my daughter, than that my daughter might have recognized her father – for exactly what he was.

Chapter X: Absolution

As my daughter sat down with us, Tracy and Jay swarmed toward her like sharks in a feeding frenzy. Chairs were jockeyed and shuffled about, and now both men were leaning forward, smiling and making flirtatious chatter with Selene.

I hated it. She was my daughter, for God's sake!

Forget the fact that I'd been undressing her with my eyes less than a minute before, older guys – like Tracy and Jay – should behave in a more mature fashion.

Then I remembered that I was ten years older than either of them. Nothing seemed to be working right. I was seriously trying to justify my outrage, but my own behavior undermined any moral high-ground I tried to establish.

So, I just sat there getting more ticked off by the minute as Tracy and Jay leered and smiled and flirted…and Selene sat back and ate it all up.

It had been a year since I'd seen her last. She had been in Europe, modeling and dating some prince or something in Italy. Now she made a surprise appearance at my hangout, dropping in to the coffee shop to slum with her Dad.

Selene was beautiful. She looked like her mother, but Celeste was even taller. As a blonde, Selene reminded me of a very young Nico adorning the cover of Vogue, circa 1960.

Monica sat beside me and whispered into my ear:

"She's beautiful…doesn't resemble you at all."

I think she was serious.

I pulled Selene from the infested waters and we went back to my place. I needed a real drink now.

When we got back to my place Selene relaxed on the couch, while I was busy making our drinks at the bar.

"That Monica…are you two an item?"

"No, not really. We go out once in a while, though."

"Oh. Huh."

"Huh?"

"She's not your kind."

That gave me pause. And few things did when I was pouring a shot.

I looked out from behind the bar to see if Selene was serious. She was…

" 'Not my kind?' Let me tell ya' something kiddo, I'm fifty-one years old. Whichever one strays furthest from the herd is 'my kind.'"

"Ha ha, very funny. I don't like it when you talk like that."

"Oh, the old, 'You couldn't handle the truth?'"

"Let's switch subjects," she said, dejected.

"I agree."

Selene was a woman's woman. She always knew how to dress, wear her hair, walk…and handle men. It came as natural to her as putting on her lipstick. Few guys ever stood up to her, she was way too bright.

Her younger sister was an easier story. Heloise was a model too. But she also had a pilot's license, was a cum laude student at Harvard, and had managed to be a Rhodes Scholar.

Heloise was engaged to some wealthy socialite in Europe. I met him once, a nice guy. It was what I'd have expected from my youngest daughter. She was straightforward, bright and likely to have kids, along with the house and white picket fence in a gated community.

But Selene was different. Don't misunderstand. She was every bit as bright as Heloise, maybe brighter. But there was nothing straightforward about her at all. No, she wasn't dishonest. I don't mean it that way. But she was…complex. That's the word. Selene always had more going on than met the eye.

"…mad, bad and dangerous to know."

I recalled a description one noble woman used to describe Lord Byron. It applied to Selene as well. It seemed strange to think of your own flesh and blood in those terms. But it was true.

Selene had a wonderful, giving heart. But then there were always other things lurking, just below the surface.

I could never quite put my finger on it.

"Daddy, why don't you write your little stories anymore?"

"I do. People just don't read them anymore," I said.

"If you'd kept writing, maybe Momma would have stayed with you."

I really didn't want to go where Selene was leading me. The sun was shining through the window. It reflected off her golden hair. It mesmerized me for a moment. I could swear it was Celeste sitting across from me.

Celeste and I had broken up over many things. As strange as it may sound, one was the fact that I changed the way I wrote short stories. In the beginning critics loved my stuff. Then something happened. I just started writing in this terse little style, which I heard as my real voice.

The critics hated it. They didn't like that I abandoned almost all descriptive writing. People, settings, locations—it was all out. I just wrote the narrative and dialogue. What was left were writings that were too short on narrative to be called 'short stories,' and too free form to be called scripts.

"…like souls talking to one another in a dark room."

That was the way one critic described them.

I didn't take it as a negative. That's exactly the way they were. And that's exactly the way they were meant to be.

Like souls communing in the anonymity of a confession booth.

Well, Celeste felt I was destroying a promising career…which didn't bother me much. But it did bother Celeste. She wanted me to be successful…like the men she was around night and day.

Obviously, it didn't work out that way…

" 'Lenie, let's go out to dinner. I know a great place," I managed to switch the subject.

"Hmmmm…bait and switch. Not bad."

Then she smiled and said:

"Sure. Let me shower and change into something more appropriate."

While she showered, I put on some music and relaxed. My thoughts wandered back to years past with her Mom. Pleasant memories. Selene always brought on these moods: memories, images, dreams.

I was distracted suddenly by an image in the hall mirror.

It was Selene. She had opened the bathroom door, as if to let out the shower's steam. She was brushing her long wet hair in the mirror…naked.

My daughter was now a beautiful woman. Her breasts were large and full. Though slender, she was shaped in the classic hourglass figure. Her skin was white and smooth. I don't think I'd ever seen such a classically beautiful nude before.

Unfortunately, I was also getting a hard-on. It pissed me off. It was making me feel like a perv.

"Honey, close the door."

"Oh…" she answered, as if vaguely surprised: "Sorry."

Selene shut the door casually, almost as if she were disappointed the game was over.

No, she was never straight forward. Not that one.

When we got to the restaurant all eyes were on Selene. I was getting used to this now.

Daddy, do you think they all think we're a couple," she said looking around at the other tables ogling us.

"No," I lied, flatly.

"Are you mad about something?"

"No," I lied again. This time with a phony joviality.

I was on edge. Selene's whole visit was kind of throwing me. I loved her, but I was also hoping the visit wasn't going to be a long one.

When we got back that night I wanted to get some sleep. I figured I'd feel better about every thing in the morning.

"What do you want the bed or the couch?" I asked.

"Oh, I'll sleep out here on the couch," she answered. "I may want to stay up for a while and call some friends."

Selene was on the couch in just a tee shirt and panties. I was losing the battle to keep her within the 'G' rating.

I could only imagine that life as a model was pretty liberated when it came to states of dress or undress. At any rate, it was pretty clear my daughter was marching to her own drummer…and apparently the drummer was a nudist.

I went to bed and fell dead away.

In the middle of the night I awoke feeling the bed moving. I was stunned to feel a body nuzzle up to the back of mine and an arm wrapping around my waist.

I lifted my head confused, then bolted upright in bed.

"What are you doing?"

"Daddy, it was uncomfortable on the couch."

"Then I'll take the couch!"

I got up and slung on a robe. She knew I was pissed.

"You've always run away from me," she said, plaintively.

She let that dagger sink into me in the dark.

"What does that mean?"

"You always left us…why can't we sleep here together? What's wrong with that?"

"Uh-uh."

I meant that to be the final word on the subject. I really did.

Selene draped her arm over her eyes. She was starting to cry.

"Fine…then leave…again."

Part of me was furious. She was working the weakest chink in whatever emotional armor I had left with her.

"C'mon…don't cry, 'Lenie."

I sat along side her on the bed. Selene rolled away from me and continued crying. It was killing me.

She knew it.

She started to cry louder. I couldn't help myself. I took her n my arms and held her tightly.

"You know I love you, sweetheart," I whispered in her ear.

"Then stay with me."

It was too smooth. I was ashamed she was doing this…but I didn't have the strength to keep saying no.

"Ok…"

I got back under the covers and lay away from her on my side. She snuggled up behind me, spooning herself to me, and wrapped her arm back around my waist. Then she raised her head and kissed my cheek.

"Goodnight Daddy…"

Then she added: "I forgive you now."

My life had gotten suddenly strange.

We fell into a restless half-sleep in each other's arms, and I had strange dreams. I was a shepherd on a hillside and the moon glowed down on me. Everything was shadow mixed with moonlight.

And so we lay there all night…

Two souls, silent and alone, in a dark room.