Sketchtasy

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Sketchtasy Page 18

by Mattilda Bernstein Sycamore


  He turns the lights on, red bulbs in some kind of retro fixture and Christmas lights all over the walls which are covered in splatter paint and the sofas too, almost like the paint poured down from the walls and then there’s a tacky brass four-poster bed in one corner, puffy white comforter and white sheets, I don’t know why gay men love white sheets so much. White carpet too, or maybe it’s beige, I can’t tell if it’s clean or dirty in this light. He flicks another switch, and there goes the disco ball—with the splatter paint and the lights I’m already feeling high and then he takes a vial out of his pocket and pours the whole thing onto the coffee table, some big mirrored thing from the eighties. Special K, he says, just like the cereal, do you know about Special K? And he throws down a few straws.

  Somehow he already has his shirt off, muscular arms and a big tattoo of a snake on his belly. Want to see the rest, he says, and starts to pull down his pants, but then he says just kidding, Miss-ter Alexa—I’m not trying to rape ya. Although I bet you’ve got a nice ass. Oops—hope you don’t mind my humor, it’s in the gutter. Do you like my playhouse? Ooh, ooh—I forgot to introduce myself. Bobby, like the bar, that was my bar, Bobby’s. Did you ever go there?

  Bobby’s?

  Ha, ha—stumped you on that one. Lots of hot boys there, right? I miss Bobby’s. Lots of hot boys. I could see you at Bobby’s, dancing to the latest hits.

  I don’t like the latest hits.

  Ooh, ooh, I bet you like disco—I’ve got lots of disco—I remember disco, don’t I remember disco? How old are ya? No, no, don’t tell me—just a baby, my baby, young enough to be my baby. Do ya like ecstasy, I’ve got ecstasy. How ’bout music, do you like music? I’ll put on something real nice that we can dance to.

  I don’t really like disco.

  Are you kidding me? Where did I pick this one up? I bet you don’t even like ecstasy.

  I do like ecstasy.

  Well, why don’t you pick out some music, maybe do some more K-K-ketamine, and I’ll be right back, pussycat.

  Bobby comes back with a glass of orange juice, and I’m sitting on the sofa watching the lights. Just when I think he forgot about the ecstasy he hands me a hit. You do drink orange juice, don’t ya, he says. What did ya pick?

  I can’t decide.

  Ooh, never mind, you’re too young—don’t get me wrong, I like ’em young, and you’re a beauty, aren’t you? Aren’t you? What about ESG, do you know about ESG? Black girls from the Bronx, sisters who jammed in their backyard in the late seventies—it’ll blow you away. Blow, blow, blow—let me do some more of this here K, ’kay? Ooh, yeah, ooh, ooh, that’s right, listen to this. Do you want to watch some porn?

  Not really.

  A cocktail, do you want a cocktail? Sure.

  What’ll ya have, dearie?

  A screwdriver.

  Yeah, baby, screw, that’s the way I like it. Did anyone ever ask you if that hair was real?

  Never.

  Ooh, yeah, ooh baby yeah. Help yourself to more of that K.

  I do another line, and this music is great, I can’t tell if they’re playing synthesizers or actual drums. This sofa is my new best friend. And that disco ball—I should get one at home. It would look great with the chandeliers. Nate’s always saying he wishes he knew more about gay culture.

  Bobby comes back with a cocktail in a huge glass, something ridiculous, it’s almost too heavy to hold. I think the ecstasy is starting to kick in, seems pretty fast so maybe it’s the K. Bobby’s running all over the room—I can’t tell what he’s doing but it’s pretty fun to watch.

  You get really calm, he says, you get really calm on it, you just calm the fuck down like it’s all so easy, yeah, so easy, you just calm the fuck down.

  The lights are starting to go in and out of my eyes and Bobby’s doing that thing where he moves his hand back and forth in front of my face like a tunnel and then when I do it to him he goes whoa, whoa, so I go whoa, whoa, and I guess now we’re kind of at the same level, level forty-two, what does that mean, why forty-two?

  Forty-two, he says, how did ya know—yeah, boy, I’m forty-two. Old enough to be your father. Except, wait a second here, I’m fifty-two—how does that make you feel? Whoa, whoa, let’s go for a ride. Is there anything you’ve always wanted to do, but never had the balls to?

  I hate it when someone says balls so I just sit there watching Bobby going whoa, ooh, ooh, whoa, and I can’t tell if he’s making fun of me but then he says wait, wait, have you ever seen Boys in the Sand? It’s porn from when porn was art. The seventies. Before you were born. I’ve got it on Super 8, I can take out my projector and set it up.

  Bobby doesn’t wait for my answer, he just starts setting up the projector so I figure it’s a good time to do more K and take off my shoes. Bobby says you go boy, you go, you go, you go, and I realize the carpet is like a sponge. A really soft sponge. Feels so good with the disco ball lights taking the paint off the walls and swirling it around the room. Make yourself comfortable, Bobby keeps saying, and it’s kind of hot in here, maybe I will take off my shirt. Yeah, Bobby says, yeah, you go. I lean back on the sofa, the fabric so cool on my skin and I really want to take off my pants but I’m way too high to have sex so I say Bobby, and he says yes, yes, and I say Bobby, I’m having so much fun.

  He says ooh boy that’s great, that’s why you’re here, and I say I think I’m going to take my pants off, but I don’t want to have sex, is that okay, and he says of course, of course that’s okay, dearie, why don’t we get naked and make ourselves comfortable? And I say I think I’m going to keep my boxers on, and Bobby says okay, I’ll keep my Jockeys on.

  Oh, I love this movie already, the titles written in the sand—if I sit down on the carpet I can pretend I’m writing in the sand too. What should I write?

  HELLO. HELLO. It takes longer than I thought it would to write in the sand sponge carpet.

  How about HO, like Polly wrote in the sand on her birthday when we went to Revere Beach. Where’s Polly?

  Pretend I’m at the beach with the lights swirling around the splatter-paint sky and this movie, the way you hear the birds in the trees as leaves alternate between light and dark and what beach is this?

  Fire Island, Bobby says, and now I understand why people go there. But what is this awful music, can we turn the other music back on? HELLO. HELLO. Wait, now it’s night already, that was fast. Night on the beach, this guy in the sky with his shiny chest glowing, okay, daytime again and the ocean, I love the ocean, green and blue and wait, now it’s night again I’m getting confused so I look at Bobby to see if he notices and oh, his eyes, now he’s behind me, rubbing my back, this guy’s back, shaved head, before I thought he was kind of cheesy with the seventies denim look but now, now Bobby’s rubbing his back, this is fun.

  Some boy’s running toward us from the ocean and then we just see his hand feeling that guy up I’m feeling that guy up and now his head goes down, before I wasn’t sure about facial hair but he’s much hotter than the guy from the ocean a mermaid but without scales I miss the scales and oh, Bobby’s on his knees with my dick in his mouth and how did this happen? Bobby has a shaved head too, how come I didn’t notice that before, I guess his hat, where did the hat go, was it red?

  Now I’m laughing because it’s funny with Bobby down there between my legs the way he’s grinding into the carpet and trying to get me hard I’m not going to get hard I already told you that but he puts my hands on his skin so warm as these guys step into the woods and they’re making out, wow, I love it when the blond one rubs his hand through the back of the other guy’s head, down his chest but it makes me nervous that neither of them is hard, maybe they’re on ecstasy too and here’s Bobby’s mouth like a fish I kind of want to lie down but now Bobby’s standing up with his dick in my face, wow it’s huge but Bobby, stop, I told you I’m too high. Okay, Bobby says, and goes into the kitchen.

  Oh, the blond guy in this lighting, now I get it, here’s where he’s hot, the sun illuminating spa
ce through the trees and now it’s his ass pumping away and oh, okay, now he’s hard but his dick isn’t as big as Bobby’s, what would I do with a dick that big it’s too big and the camera keeps going back into the trees sparkling with the sun and now someone’s getting fucked but I can’t tell who it is and then the trees.

  Oh, wait, now the blond guy’s jerking off on the other guy’s face, mouth open to take all that come so much come and then he rubs it all over his face, wow, the seventies, now they’re making out again and then the one with the shaved head is getting his dick sucked and the music is really religious, like a choir or The Sound of Music or the Mormon Tabernacle. When I was in fourth grade I wrote a report on the Mormon temple, like a fairy castle except they wanted you to convert and oh, Bobby’s sucking my dick again I’m in the movie with the disco lights and splatter paint and this guy’s jerking off while everything flashes, we’re flashing on the disco ball rolling down the beach and he takes his cock ring off I don’t like cock rings anyway but he puts it on the other guy’s arm and then runs away. But where are you going—oh, into the water, wait, you disappeared, I miss you, now Bobby stop, stop, you’re going to miss the movie.

  The blond guy puts on his clothes and walks down the beach, what a pretty beach with trees right at the water and here’s another wave, let’s go swimming. But now the blond guy’s dressed, why did he get dressed? He’s by the harbor in white jeans, he must bleach those jeans a lot it’s hard to find white jeans without stains, grass or dirt or ketchup and mustard, oil and vinegar or car oil oily handprints wine egg yolk dog shit dead bugs or chewing gum or melted chocolate or come, someone else’s or your own or what about sand, maybe the ocean doesn’t stain. Where is he now I ask Bobby who’s behind me again though I can still feel his lips at my crotch but how does he do that, now that he’s behind me, Bobby, where are we now?

  Still Fire Island—I want to take you there sometime.

  I’m on a ride, a ride on the boardwalk like the teacups not something scary—Bobby, I haven’t even made it to Province-town. Now the guy in the movie’s petting a dog so I can pet my legs woof woof and Bobby’s moving my hands, whose hands, look, my hands—and this guy’s reading a newspaper called GAY, is that a real paper, and Bobby says have some more K.

  I like the sound of the projector more than this music, and Bobby says ooh, ooh, I have something special for you, just what you need to relax, and he runs back into the kitchen, now this guy’s writing a letter and is that a wedding ring, why would anyone get married? A mineral on the table, pyrite like gold, fool’s gold my grandmother said but I always thought it was prettier than gold and now this guy’s walking around naked, we can walk around naked together on the carpet beach swimming pool sand smooth feet I like the feeling of your feet so soft and bouncy and cool.

  But now he puts on pants to send a letter, I don’t want to put on pants this is confusing and Bobby’s back with a big glass of orange juice for me just me, now he has his briefs on again, that’s better. Where are my boxers? What a pretty purple glass, purple and orange and I’m watching the lights on the glass in the juice and this guy’s swimming as the calendar starts to burn, why is the calendar burning?

  You’re beautiful, Bobby says, like one of those sculptures, a Michelangelo, did anyone ever tell you that? And now there’s a kid running on the beach with a dog, just after sunset and the calendar’s floating in the water I wish we could go swimming the water is purple bubbles and Bobby says go ahead, drink your orange juice, fresh squeezed but there’s so so much and I’m finally in the water I can feel it pouring through me so warm I love this music through the path in the trees where does this path lead, oh, back to the beach and I’m in the water floating away, the heat from the sun on my skin I’m floating away a kid with a kite at the post office I’m running naked through the woods and the drums, the matches, fire in the woods and a glass case I’m bubbling in the water swimming through my skin in the music whose heart pumping so fast in the dark with the lights I’m spinning everything’s red in the shadows of the trees in the sand in the ocean.

  We’re in a sauna, sweating in the bubbles floating through the tunnel the music my body and Bobby’s saying yes, that’s the sound of his hands, the tunnel so bright and dark, inside and outside I’m a gymnast bending into new shapes, rolling on the beach over and around the pole where’s the pole I think I can stay balanced my body opening the water and through the woods and into the softest wave I’ve ever felt yes I want to stay here with the water flowing through me.

  And when I wake up, wait, have I been sleeping, Bobby’s kissing me and saying yes, yes, and I look for the movie again oh it’s upside down—someone’s reading the newspaper called GAY, everyone reads that paper now I close my eyes and Bobby’s saying yes, yes, and is he fucking me, wait, I’m on a deck, reading the paper, inside the paper is more paper, I keep opening and opening until the water comes through the sky the stars so bright and night, this tunnel through the trees and oh a little window I’m climbing through the window into the other side of the sky another window, something in my mouth, bubbles—blow bubbles blow I’m on the elevator going backward fast through the stars and on the other side is light, the sun on the beach and now the water, backward through the water the waves my body shaking in the waves and how am I breathing the elevator shooting through the water, backstroke, sidestroke, fancy diving too, oh wouldn’t it be so lovely to be with you. To be with you. To be with you. And I never noticed before how if you let everything go, if you let everything go in the water you can feel the way it becomes a pump your heart.

  I wake up in a bed, a soft bed but something hurts, maybe my stomach and how did it get so dark? I start to sit up but I’m too dizzy. I need water and then sleep, more sleep, please more sleep, but can I get up? I close my eyes.

  I’m doing backflips on the beach in the sun—I never realized my body could do this before, I just keep flipping my legs over and over and over and over and over and even though it hurts it also feels like I’m flying, why don’t I try this more often, maybe because I never go to the beach anymore. But then I hit a wall. It doesn’t hurt like I thought it would, it just feels like diving into the water and forgetting to put your hands out in the right position and the current is pushing me back, I’m swimming but I’m not getting anywhere and then I let go.

  Now I’m awake again, how long has it been? My mouth so dry is this my mouth? Tongue, that’s my tongue. There’s no one else in bed, should I get up? Oh, this carpet, I remember this carpet, I need water. Here’s the light switch in the kitchen, ouch too bright turn that off. There aren’t any windows in here. A glass. I need a glass, should I drink this orange juice, wait now I need to shit.

  Oh my God. Shooting pain going right through my body when will it end. Diarrhea. Blood on the toilet paper, I can’t tell if it’s a lot or a little but it’s definitely blood. I need something to eat, is there anything in the refrigerator? Gross—what’s that smell?

  Okay, Wonder Bread, I guess I can eat Wonder Bread. Iceberg lettuce? Mustard. I’ll make a mustard sandwich, with iceberg lettuce. Here’s the toaster. Maybe it will talk to me, oh, the toast is already burning.

  I need more water. This isn’t that bad, this, this sandwich. Chewing hurts. I guess I’m alone, alone in this apartment, but why? I need more water. Ouch ouch ouch ouch ouch I better sit down. Oh, a shower, yes, a shower. Red, I do like all the red in here, except, you know: blood. A shower of blood, no don’t exaggerate. But yes, the water pressure is really strong. The only soap is Dial, but I need to get this smell off of me. Should I write a note? What would I say? How come you kept saying you’re so beautiful, I know you kept saying that because otherwise I wouldn’t have it in my head.

  Soft towels, at least he has soft towels. There’s no condom in the trash. But actually there’s nothing in this trash can. Maybe it’s in the kitchen. I can’t find the trash in the kitchen, but I’m not turning that light back on. Maybe the lights in the other room—oh, these spla
tter paint walls, this is awful. There’s nothing on the floor, under the bed, in the sheets, okay maybe I can turn that light on in the kitchen. Here’s the trash: it’s empty. Maybe he took it out in the morning. Is it morning? I don’t know what to do. There are condoms in the drawer by the bed, but how can I tell if he uses them? K-Y Jelly, of course he uses K-Y, why would anyone use K-Y?

  Oh, this bed is so comfortable, I hate how comfortable this bed feels. Should I just sleep a little longer? No. I need to get out of here before he gets back. Should I make another sandwich? I need to shit, but I don’t want to, it’s going to hurt too much.

  Avery, something awful happened. Avery, I left you and I went to the Fens, I went to the Fens and then something awful happened. Avery, I don’t know what happened, but I need to talk to you. Avery, I’m really scared. Avery, I can’t find the phone, where’s the phone, I want to call you. I want to call you, to ask for help. I just want you to hold me. Okay, will you hold me?

  Oh, here’s the phone, covered in splatter paint, what is this place?

  Avery picks up the phone: Domino’s Pizza, we deliver. She’s really high.

  Avery.

  Alexa, there’s a lot going on here, a lot.

  Oh.

  Alexa, are you ready, are you ready for this story?

  I don’t know.

  Alexa, you sound nervous, are you nervous? I just want you to know that you’ve got a nice asshole, but I found something even better, ha ha ha, even better.

  Avery.

  Alexa, I called this guy from The Phoenix. You used to have an ad in The Phoenix. Well, I called this other guy from The Phoenix, Chad, I mean I know that’s not his real name, but Chad, Chad has an amazing ass. Chad, don’t you have an amazing ass? And we have a lot in common, you know, we both like powder so that’s what we’ve been doing. Don’t worry, I paid him first, I fucked him for an hour and then he decided to stay over because of my, well, you know, just to hang out, and we’ve been hanging out ever since—I don’t know, fifteen hours, twenty-five hours, how many hours? No, wait, maybe we slept, and then we fucked, and then we slept again?

 

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