(no subject)
3 weeks before the present.
Halfway through his lap dance, Elijah’s cell phone rang.
His hips jerked violently (stupid fucking vibrate mode) but he kept his eyes on the prize while he fished the little Nokia out of his jeans. He squinted in the dark at the caller ID.
Ah, hell.
He glanced back at the wiggling stripper woefully -- he’d just paid a hell of a lot of cash for this. But, such is life. With a final glance at the TV he hit the pause button on the controller and put the phone to his ear.
“Hi Mom.”
“Hi baby, how are you? I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”
“Nah, just playing a little Vice City. What’s up?”
“Oh nothing, just wanted to see what you were up to. I haven’t heard from you in awhile. You’ve been kind of quiet since your birthday.”
“Yeah, I know, Mom, I’m sorry. I’ve been meaning to call you lately but I’ve just been b-- (don’t lie to your mother, it’s not nice) --distracted.”
“Is everything OK?”
Her voice was soft, tentative. Elijah squeezed the phone between ear and shoulder and reached for his cigs.
“Yes, Mom, just fine. Hannah’s fine, everything’s fine.” (We’re all fine, here, now, thank you, how are you?)
“So tell me, I never did hear what happened with that play you were going for. Did you ever get to meet that producer?”
His Zippo closed with a satisfyingly heavy clink. “Uh, no, Mom, I didn’t get a chance to meet with him. That didn’t really work out.”
“Oh, honey, I’m so sorry.”
“Nah, it’s no big deal, they just wanted someone (taller older fresher better) different for the part.” He blew out a cloud of sweet white smoke around the phone. “No big deal.”
He waited for her standard response -- Keep at it, honey, your time will come soon, I just know it -- but he only heard thick and staticy silence. And then:
“Elijah, it’s OK to be disappointed. Sometimes things just aren’t meant to be.”
His head throbbed suddenly, tight and strained from four hours of pixilated violence and no hours of sleep. He plucked his glasses off and let them fall onto the couch, rubbing at his gritty eyes.
“Mom, what’s wrong?”
He could hear her reluctance, like a held breath.
“Come on, Mom, I can tell something is bothering you. You never call me at ten a.m. on a Tuesday to talk about work. Especially not with your worried voice. Just tell me what’s on your mind.”
A deep breath, and then:
“Elijah... you know I’m your biggest fan. Always have been. I believe in you one hundred percent, I support you no matter what you do. But lately, it just seems... this past year has been so hard on you...”
“I’m fine, Mom.”
“Maybe it’s time to come home, Elijah.”
His cigarette hung between his fingers, burning into one long column of gray ash. His voice felt like sand in his throat.
“I am home, Mom.”
“Elijah, please, don’t be upset with me. I just… I’m so proud of you, baby, so proud of how hard you fight. But now I watch you banging on closed doors and I just…” He could hear her voice trembling and his hand tightened on the phone.
“I just want to see you happy, Elijah. And you’re not. And I’m worried.”
“I’m not giving up, Mom.”
“I don’t want you to, sweetheart. I think you just maybe need a little break. Doesn’t that sound nice? Just some time away from it all, away from that city. Just to remember who you are for awhile.”
I don’t want time away from this city. I know who I am, and I’m not leaving until this city knows it too. I’m not fucking finished here yet.
“It’s a game, Mom. You know that as well as I do. And the best players aren’t the ones with the most skill - they’re the ones who keep mashing buttons until they find the hidden level. You just have to keep playing, and one day you break the code.”
“I know, honey. But your supply of quarters isn’t endless.”
Elijah chuckled. “Way to screw up my metaphor, Mom. I’m trying to make the fast-track by playing Pong. No wonder I’m unemployed.”
She giggled (god I miss that sound) and sighed into the phone. He tucked his clove into the corner of his mouth and smiled.
“Don’t worry about me, Mom. I’ll be alright. I’ve got Hannah here to make sure I don’t start robbing video stores or assaulting hookers or anything.”
“Oh Lijah that’s not funny.” She was snorting tiny giggles into the phone that made him smile, and his chest only hurt a little.
“I’m sorry, honey. I don’t know where that came from. Maybe I’ll go have a cup of that Chinese menopause tea that your sister gave me for Christmas.”
“OK, yeah, that is really more information than I needed, Mother.”
They laughed a little and he coughed, a good crackling wheeze that he smoothed out with a gulp of lukewarm beer.
“You should cut back on those, honey, they aren’t good for you.”
“Mom-"
“Yes, I know, I’m sorry. I’ve become an unbearable nag in my middle age. I wasn’t like this when I was an actual annoying stage mother, was I?”
“You were never annoying, Mom.”
“Aww, and it’s not even Mother’s Day yet.”
“Yeah well that was your present, so don’t expect any flowers this year.”
She chuckled as he stubbed out his clove and waved the lingering smoke from his face.
“I’ll let you go, sweetheart. I’m going to call Han now, should I tell her anything for you?”
“Yeah, tell her to call me, she’s supposed to get me a DJ gig this weekend.”
“OK then. And Elijah… just think about it, OK? Just a few weeks. Get some fresh air in those poor abused lungs.”
“OK Mom. If I don’t-(no, not like that)-maybe this summer. I’ll think about it.”
“Alright, honey. You take care.”
“I will.”
“I love you, baby boy.”
“I love you too, Mom. I’ll call you soon. Bye.”
The phone went dead, and he tossed it onto the coffee table to clatter into his bottle of (mostly backwash) beer. His ashtray was overflowing and smelled like the doorway of a club. He picked it up and stood, stretching his sore back until his spine popped.
The PS2 was still on pause, his hard-earned lap dance still frozen in mid-shimmy. He stared at it for a moment, blurred and foggy without his glasses. He walked over and pushed the ‘off’ button with his toe, and the screen went dark.
“Sorry, babe, some other time,” he said, and went into the kitchen to find some aspirin.
Halfway through his lap dance, Elijah’s cell phone rang.
His hips jerked violently (stupid fucking vibrate mode) but he kept his eyes on the prize while he fished the little Nokia out of his jeans. He squinted in the dark at the caller ID.
Ah, hell.
He glanced back at the wiggling stripper woefully -- he’d just paid a hell of a lot of cash for this. But, such is life. With a final glance at the TV he hit the pause button on the controller and put the phone to his ear.
“Hi Mom.”
“Hi baby, how are you? I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”
“Nah, just playing a little Vice City. What’s up?”
“Oh nothing, just wanted to see what you were up to. I haven’t heard from you in awhile. You’ve been kind of quiet since your birthday.”
“Yeah, I know, Mom, I’m sorry. I’ve been meaning to call you lately but I’ve just been b-- (don’t lie to your mother, it’s not nice) --distracted.”
“Is everything OK?”
Her voice was soft, tentative. Elijah squeezed the phone between ear and shoulder and reached for his cigs.
“Yes, Mom, just fine. Hannah’s fine, everything’s fine.” (We’re all fine, here, now, thank you, how are you?)
“So tell me, I never did hear what happened with that play you were going for. Did you ever get to meet that producer?”
His Zippo closed with a satisfyingly heavy clink. “Uh, no, Mom, I didn’t get a chance to meet with him. That didn’t really work out.”
“Oh, honey, I’m so sorry.”
“Nah, it’s no big deal, they just wanted someone (taller older fresher better) different for the part.” He blew out a cloud of sweet white smoke around the phone. “No big deal.”
He waited for her standard response -- Keep at it, honey, your time will come soon, I just know it -- but he only heard thick and staticy silence. And then:
“Elijah, it’s OK to be disappointed. Sometimes things just aren’t meant to be.”
His head throbbed suddenly, tight and strained from four hours of pixilated violence and no hours of sleep. He plucked his glasses off and let them fall onto the couch, rubbing at his gritty eyes.
“Mom, what’s wrong?”
He could hear her reluctance, like a held breath.
“Come on, Mom, I can tell something is bothering you. You never call me at ten a.m. on a Tuesday to talk about work. Especially not with your worried voice. Just tell me what’s on your mind.”
A deep breath, and then:
“Elijah... you know I’m your biggest fan. Always have been. I believe in you one hundred percent, I support you no matter what you do. But lately, it just seems... this past year has been so hard on you...”
“I’m fine, Mom.”
“Maybe it’s time to come home, Elijah.”
His cigarette hung between his fingers, burning into one long column of gray ash. His voice felt like sand in his throat.
“I am home, Mom.”
“Elijah, please, don’t be upset with me. I just… I’m so proud of you, baby, so proud of how hard you fight. But now I watch you banging on closed doors and I just…” He could hear her voice trembling and his hand tightened on the phone.
“I just want to see you happy, Elijah. And you’re not. And I’m worried.”
“I’m not giving up, Mom.”
“I don’t want you to, sweetheart. I think you just maybe need a little break. Doesn’t that sound nice? Just some time away from it all, away from that city. Just to remember who you are for awhile.”
I don’t want time away from this city. I know who I am, and I’m not leaving until this city knows it too. I’m not fucking finished here yet.
“It’s a game, Mom. You know that as well as I do. And the best players aren’t the ones with the most skill - they’re the ones who keep mashing buttons until they find the hidden level. You just have to keep playing, and one day you break the code.”
“I know, honey. But your supply of quarters isn’t endless.”
Elijah chuckled. “Way to screw up my metaphor, Mom. I’m trying to make the fast-track by playing Pong. No wonder I’m unemployed.”
She giggled (god I miss that sound) and sighed into the phone. He tucked his clove into the corner of his mouth and smiled.
“Don’t worry about me, Mom. I’ll be alright. I’ve got Hannah here to make sure I don’t start robbing video stores or assaulting hookers or anything.”
“Oh Lijah that’s not funny.” She was snorting tiny giggles into the phone that made him smile, and his chest only hurt a little.
“I’m sorry, honey. I don’t know where that came from. Maybe I’ll go have a cup of that Chinese menopause tea that your sister gave me for Christmas.”
“OK, yeah, that is really more information than I needed, Mother.”
They laughed a little and he coughed, a good crackling wheeze that he smoothed out with a gulp of lukewarm beer.
“You should cut back on those, honey, they aren’t good for you.”
“Mom-"
“Yes, I know, I’m sorry. I’ve become an unbearable nag in my middle age. I wasn’t like this when I was an actual annoying stage mother, was I?”
“You were never annoying, Mom.”
“Aww, and it’s not even Mother’s Day yet.”
“Yeah well that was your present, so don’t expect any flowers this year.”
She chuckled as he stubbed out his clove and waved the lingering smoke from his face.
“I’ll let you go, sweetheart. I’m going to call Han now, should I tell her anything for you?”
“Yeah, tell her to call me, she’s supposed to get me a DJ gig this weekend.”
“OK then. And Elijah… just think about it, OK? Just a few weeks. Get some fresh air in those poor abused lungs.”
“OK Mom. If I don’t-(no, not like that)-maybe this summer. I’ll think about it.”
“Alright, honey. You take care.”
“I will.”
“I love you, baby boy.”
“I love you too, Mom. I’ll call you soon. Bye.”
The phone went dead, and he tossed it onto the coffee table to clatter into his bottle of (mostly backwash) beer. His ashtray was overflowing and smelled like the doorway of a club. He picked it up and stood, stretching his sore back until his spine popped.
The PS2 was still on pause, his hard-earned lap dance still frozen in mid-shimmy. He stared at it for a moment, blurred and foggy without his glasses. He walked over and pushed the ‘off’ button with his toe, and the screen went dark.
“Sorry, babe, some other time,” he said, and went into the kitchen to find some aspirin.