calling home...

 

  

There is bickering amongst the Big Ten in the elevator or, in the British vernacular, the lift. Josh is still semi-limping as we enter the elevator with a subtle bling. Every member of the Big Ten is accusing every other member of the Big  Ten of messing up the performance.  Baker is stating that Spencer had to do all that gay shit by pretending to be the Queen but at least it wasn’t as gay as Harry’s friend who wore the dress.

"I think we did okay," I say, looking at our group. Even though we improvised the entire skit. Even though intrinsically we had no clue what we were doing. Even though we ad libbed every sentence and years from now, the only thing people will remember about Group #3 of Freshman Boys on Bus #1 ie the immortal BIG TEN was that they were obnoxious. Was that they were puberty on a pudding pop. Was that they talked in the back of the Bus when cool Vivian was speaking. Was that they played this asinine game which involved pummeling the other in the loins. Was that they would probably feel more at home taking a tour of the NFL rookie combine.

Baker points at Josh and says geez, I wonder where the winning skit got the idea  from.

“It’s Harry’s fault. If he wasn’t sneaking out drooling over that hog we might have had more of a chance to rehearse.

The doors to the elevator blings open as if it is waking  up from a deep sleep. The Big Ten are almost single-filing headed in the directions of their respective rooms. From behind I can hear Jim Baker disparage me. He is saying Hair man, you and that hog.

You and that hog.

 

                                                                         ***

I go into the room and brush my teeth. My hair still has petrified flecks of  Aqua Netted gunk from when I thoroughly attacked my scalp four hours earlier. I think about the look on Rita's doily-hued countenance when she won. I wonder if I hadn't of lost her number if I would be talking to her right now on the phone.

Part of me wants to call Harmony up. Part of me wants to wait. On the television  BBC is still lambasting US for the botched role in what my country men are calling Justice while the bulk of Europe has labeled it a massacre.

It is almost midnight. It is my mom's birthday. It is the Birthday of Queen Elizabeth. Even though it is still 4-20 in Peoria Illinois. I am going to call my mom and wish her Happy birthday before I go to bed.

At fifteen years of age this is the longest I have gone without speaking to my parents. Neurologically part of my brain is lost in a patriarchal void.

I am looking out the window. It is London and it is night. There is an energy that is tangible whipping through the curatined jaws of the window. Without thinking I unbutton my jeans and release my cock like a periscope snorkeling from the white of my loins . It doesn't occur to me that when I was in Baker's room earlier in the afternoon it was the most naked women I have seen at one time in my life. It's like my genitals entered the cave paintings at Lacuax France that Madame Suhr made us take a quiz on. The wind is massaging my scrotum. I feel like screaming. I feel like releasing myself into the city of London. Last night at this exact time we were on the Thames and I was dancing with Harmony and she was taking me someplace I had never been before.

Justin straggles in. It feels like I an shoveling a scroll down the side of my leg as I adjust the front of my pants.

Justin asks me what I am doing.

I tell him I am thinking about London.

He tells me to think somewhere else. He says that we sucked tonight a the skit. He says that the Big Ten just sucks at everything we do.

I am ready to call my mom when the phone rings. It is Baker. As always he says hello by asking us how us fuckers are doing.

When I tell Baker that I am ready to call home Jim asks me if I am going to tell my mom about the fat girl I am porking.

I say goodbye Jim.

Jim says wait.

Bake is laughing hysterically,

“Dude, you are never going to believe this shit. I called Daisy up and told her that Spencer wants to meet her in my room at midnight and I’m come hide and when she comes in jump out of the room and lock her in the Porno Palace.

I tell Jim that I thought Trever and Sir Charles told you to take the Porno Palace down.  Jim says that Trevor and Sir Charles can go blow each other.

I pause for a second.

“Listen, you shouldn’t torment Daisy. I mean, she’s a sweet girl and everything. You shouldn’t torment her.

I ask Jim if the rest of the Big Ten is in on it. He says yeah. He says that they are going to hide down the hall behind the Ice Machine and when Daisy enters the room assist him in welding the door stuck.

"Fanning is even gonna take a picture of her reaction dude. It’s gonna be priceless Hair. Priceless. You got to go check this shit out."

 I tell Jim goodbye by saying Goodbye Jim as I press down on the plastic decimals of the receiver, hitting zero, asking the hotel front desk if I can have an operator, telling the international operator that I would like to make an international collect call to the United States.

That I would like to call home.

When Justin asks who was on the other line I tell him wrong number before I hear a voice, accepting the charges, the voice of my father.

 
I can hear him smiling as he picks up the phone.

 

He is talking with his son who has been overseas for exactly a week.

 

He is talking with his son.

                                                                 ****
 

It is one in the morning London time. A little before 7 in the evening back home.

Dad states that he enlarged a map of England and that every day after devotions he brings home Xeroxes from the encyclopedia Britannica reading to the girls and mom the places I have just seen. He is smiling. I can hear my Father.

 

He is smiling.

 

He is pleased.

Well, I just wanted to call and wish my mother- I have-no-other a happy birthday and that I’ll be home on Thursday.  I ask to put mom on the phone.

 

My nickname for my mother is 'My mother I have no other.' From behind me I can hear my sisters' zeal aloud with joy.

Mom picks up the phone.

 

"It's now officially April 21st and I just wanted to call and wish My Mother-I-Have-No Other a happy birthday."

 

Everyone is excited. They are hearing my breath. The last time I called my mom was when I arrived at Orientation at the Holiday Inn in Newark and Mark was at the payphone next to me only I didn't know his name yet.

 

Mom asks me how the trip is going.

 

It was cool. I mean, we had a talent show tonight only we didn’t win and it was still a lot of fun.”

From the opposite end of the phone I can hear my mom nodding.

 

“Oh and you’ll never believe this we were at Windsor castle and we saw the Queen.”

I can hear them cheering saying what. Because of the cosmic state I don’t have time to relay the whole story.”

I have for some reason been going around calling the Queen’s wave her Royal palm.

 “Yeah, it was crazy I mean we only saw her Royal palm but it was still pretty cool.”

I want to tell my mom that I have met someone special. I want to tell mom that I bought her a Teddy Bear today and snuck off from the group. I want to tell mom about Mark—I want to tell her how rude Nat Pflederer has been to me ever since we met in Peoria.

I want to tell my mom happy birthday, my mother, forty-four years of age. My mother who has been praying for the safety of my voyage. My mother who is gentle and loves her Jesus.

Instead, I tell mom that I should probably be going. I tell mom that I will see her in two days time.

Before I hang up she tells me she loves me.

I repeat back the same sentence. I wish her happy birthday once again.
 



 

                                                                     ***

 

I hang up the phone and head towards the window. Traffic snarls in one elongated neon sentence.  There are black taxi cabs and double decker buses. There is an opus of car horn delivered in an arpeggio of bleeps. The way the wind seems to ache through the window is almost meditative. I think my mom celebrating her birthday and my dad waking up at five and doing the paper route with Tim.

Justin has already started packing.

From down the hall I can hear a scream. There are several rattles before it sounds like a miniature battalion sprinting down the hall in socks. I hear Daisy yelling out that you guys are jerks. Even with the doors closed I can hear Baker laughing.

“They’re so cruel to that poor girl.”

“You talk with you mom,” Justin inquires I nod.  Where I should be seeing myself in the reflection of the mirror I see Rita from earlier this night. She is doused in over the counter cosmetics, wearing hair moose and streaked make-up like a bridal veil atop her forehead.

“You excited about tomorrow.” I inquire to Justin. He is taciturn He shrugs.

It seems like I can never communicate with Justin. It seems like all he ever does is shrugs and prays before going to bed.

“Pretty crazy day, I mean, with seeing the Queen and then having the porn pow wow in Jim Bakers room.”

Justin says that he is anti-pornography. He says that when he was in the room he averted his eyes. He says that his eyes were towards cross and that he doesn’t want to ruin his honeymoon someday by invest in such low grade filth.

I am still looking out in the nocturnal breath of London.

“The two things that my track Coach told me to do when I went to London was to go to Madame Tussuads and to eat at Flanagan’s and tomorrow I will have done both. Justin says. Whenever he talks it sounds like he is almost always chewing out from the side of his mouth.

 For a second I see Rita and for a second I see my family and the next second know the phone begins to shrill. Justin picks it up and says wait one second please.

 

 

“Hey loverboy. It’s Harmony. It’s for you.”