by Ryan Hyatt
“For all the good photos taken, there are dozens more that never are, and a parent only gets to keep them as memories, and only as long as those last,” he said.
Al-Hakim, camera in hand, nodded at Chuck. Seeing his point was made, Chuck buried the photo of May standing on the plastic turtle into his duffel bag, as he fondly recalled, one last time, his little devil hanging onto the stranger’s breast.
As the roadshow continued, however, and with its continued success, Chuck was less content living off old memories. By the time the bus stopped in Salem, Chuck called April as he took a bubble bath in the back tub with a cigar in hand. He insisted May be allowed to join him during her upcoming winter break from school.
“This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity,” Chuck said to April, blowing smoke at his ex-wife’s image on the Telenet above him. “It’s not fair for you to keep May away from me at a time like this. I mean, come on, whether late or not with my child support, somehow I manage to give you every dime I’ve got!”
Surprisingly for Chuck, April was amenable to his request. Although Buyer’s Best wouldn’t air its first episode for another month, it already had a large following, and the details of the roadshow had been discussed widely in the press. April made it clear she didn’t wish to distract Chuck from his $10 million mission, which might not only jeopardize his and their daughter’s long-term happiness, but also her own.
“Then, it’s a deal?” Chuck said. “You had May for Thanksgiving, so I get her for Christmas?”
“Sure,” April said.
“Yay!” Chuck said, and his ex-wife disconnected.
Next, Chuck contacted Joe G. His boss was seated at his desk in his studio on Nob Hill. Chuck didn’t reveal the meaning of his call at first, and kept the discussion strictly to work.
“Any luck winning Rocket & Gamble over to your sustainable business philosophy?” he said.
“It doesn’t seem like I’ve won many converts yet,” Joe G. said. “In fact, I think most of them are pretty pissed off about my anti-war activism. It doesn’t matter. Most of them will always walk and talk like they have a fork up their ass.”
“Yet they are happy to be doing business with you, despite your differences?” Chuck said.
“Damn, right!” Joe G. said. “It’s hard for a multinational to turn down a buck and great publicity, no matter how it’s earned, but I get the feeling there’s more you want to talk about than politics. What can I do for you, buddy?”
Chuck asked Joe G. to consider letting May join him on the road during her winter break from school. This request led to a brief squabble over the terms of Chuck’s contract.
“According to page 172, article eight, section seven, any visiting family and friends to the production set are to be approved by management,” Joe G. said, as he held up his copy of their agreement at his desk, and read it line by line.
“Well, do you approve?” Chuck said.
“Fine, bring May in,” Joe G. said, and he waved his hands dramatically in surrender. “She’s a priceless squirt, as I recall, just like her daddy.”
Chuck discarded his cigar and splashed foamy water on his face.
“You mean it?” he said. “No strings?”
“What kind of friend do you think I am?” Joe G. said. “You want your daughter on our tour? Great! As far as I’m concerned, it’ll make for better Telenet.”
“Thank you,” Chuck said.
“Anything else?”
“I want May seated in first class with limo service directly to me. Make sure she gets a bottle – not champagne, nothing alcoholic – but something else…maybe bubbly apple cider.”
“Bubbly apple cider?” Joe G. said. “I hope you’re enjoying this.”
“I am.”
“Anything else?”
“Just a smile. You’re on camera.”
Chuck pointed up at al-Hakim, whose camera was pointed at Joe G.’s image on the Telenet.
“I’m glad you’re feeling empowered by this journey we’ve undertaken together,” Joe G. said to Chuck with a toothy grin. “Your exemplary service deserves exemplary rewards. You’re only $9,855,493 in sales shy of a fortune, with 353 days to go!”
CHAPTER 10
Christmas was approaching, apparent by winter lights, holiday music and decorated wreaths, as well as advertisements for products for sale on billboards and Telenet commercials. The season bid well for Chuck and his crew, on schedule to meet their sales quota.
Following a performance of the roadshow in Portland, Oregon on Sunday, December 18, 2022, a limo dropped May off in front of Lowell’s, the largest independent bookstore in the nation. While many of the store’s books were digital and for sale online, the cultural ambiance of the actual retail site drew a sufficient enough crowd and profit to remain in business.
During his three-day stay, Chuck found it invigorating to roam Lowell’s rooms, listening to old records, browsing out-of-print titles for sale. Lowell’s was one of the few success stories in book retail publishing during the Greatest Depression in which nearly half the adult population under the age of twenty-five didn’t complete a high school education. Why did people in Portland read so much, Chuck wondered?
“Probably because of the rain,” May said as they took refuge from the downpour in the store’s coffee shop.
“You’re right,” Chuck said. “Not much to do in foul weather, except stay home and nourish the mind.”
They placed their order with a waitress: two hamburgers and milkshakes.
“You’re going to love this place,” Chuck said. “The sum of Western culture is within these walls.”
“Sounds impressive,” May said. “Beatles albums?”
“You bet.”
“A copy of Goonies?”
“I hope.”
“How about Charles the Chicken Crosses the Road?” May said. “Will I find that here, too?”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Chuck said, sipping a glass of water, waiting for their food to arrive. “This place is dated, but not that dated. This isn’t an archaeology museum.”
“Archaeology, that’s digging, right?” May said.
“Right,” Chuck said. “I’m glad you know what it means.”
“Then why did you say it, if you weren’t sure I would?”
“Good question,” Chuck said, scratching his head. “To quiz you, I guess. How often do I get to quiz my daughter?”
May smiled.
“I can’t believe you’re here,” Chuck said.
“I can’t believe Mom let me come.”
“Neither can I,” Chuck said, giddy as a schoolboy, and he reached across the table and pinched his daughter’s elbow. “Mom has her good moments, doesn’t she?”
“Not enough,” May said.
Chuck’s daughter was more beautiful than last time he saw her. Her lips, cheeks and hair were fuller. She still grinned like a dude, and she always would have her father’s cleft chin, but her chest was starting to protrude.
The changes made Chuck uncomfortable, and he fidgeted in his seat.
“Is everything all right?” May said.
“Fine, now that you’re here,” Chuck said.
“I don’t think so.”
“Sweetie, has anyone ever told you about the birds and the bees?”
“The what?” May said, and laughed. “You’re kidding, right?”
Chuck blushed, and the waitress arrived with their food. The almost juvenile awkwardness Chuck felt during their meal dissipated by the time they finished eating.
While browsing through the store, Chuck found it easier talking to May. After all, she was very much his girl. They shared many of the same tastes.
“If you’re serious about Pink Floyd and the Rolling Stones,” Chuck said, handing her another album, “then you might as well get some Bowie while we’re here, because you’ll want him next.”
“Thanks, Dad,” May said, carrying a stack of old records. “I’m glad to have all of this music.
Now I just need a way to play it.”
“Use my record player.”
“The one in your bedroom?” May said. “You mean that antique?”
“Sure, why not? Still works for me.”
“Isn’t that a little weird, listening to music on your father’s bed?”
“Just as long as you don’t bring boys over to listen to it with you,” Chuck said, and he waited for May’s response.
“Gross, Dad,” she said.
To Chuck, May’s response was good news. He figured his daughter still might even be a virgin, but just to be sure she didn’t screw someone in his bed, he made a suggestion.
“Take the record player,” Chuck said, and he grabbed her stack of records and placed them in front of a cashier. “Put it in your bedroom. I’ll get another one.”
“Really?” May said, and she hugged him. “You’ve given me so much already, Dad.”
“Really?” Chuck said. “Like what?”
The cashier smiled as May continued to hang onto her father. Chuck hugged her and said, “You’re hanging onto me just like you did when you were a kid. I thought teenagers were too cool for that sort of thing?”
“The record player you’re giving me is cool, so I guess we’re even,” May said, still clinging to her father.
“In that case, is there anything else I can get you in exchange for more hugs – a bookmark, lollypop, car?”
May laughed and let go of her father.
“I’d love to take a look at your sunglasses,” she said.
“You mean these?” Chuck said, and he removed the pair from his coat. “No real need for them on a lousy day like this …”
“No, the ones you wear at work,” May said. “I hear they’re special.”
“Oh, those,” Chuck said as the cashier rang up the merchandise. “Not sure that’s a good idea. They’re special, all right.”
“Please, Dad!” May said, and she clasped her hands together in mock prayer. “I want to see the weird shit you do! I want to see how you can psychoanalyze all of those people!”
Chuck was shocked, not by his daughter’s request, but because she managed to use ‘shit’ and ‘psychoanalyze’ in the same breath.
“What does Alberto Grenado have you reading in English class?” Chuck said. “Freud?”
“How do you know my English teacher?”
“Never mind,” Chuck said, and he paid for the records. “I’m more involved in your education than you or your mother thinks.”
“Can I check out your sunglasses when we get back to the hotel, please?”
Chuck didn’t want to disappoint his daughter, so when they returned to their room, he removed the Radicals from his luggage and handed them to her. There was a lull in the rain, and he led her to a window and pointed at the pedestrians walking beneath a street light below.
May donned the Radicals, and then Chuck took a step behind her and waited.
“I see people walking,” May said, “and some fuzzy colors and words floating around them. It’s hard to tell. Everything is blurry.”
“Hold on a sec,” Chuck said, and he removed the Radicals from May and put them on himself.
He glanced below. She was right. Perhaps it had to do with the distance, or the angle, or the weather, but the glasses were unable to perform their techno wizardry as well as they did with a face-to-face view of the subject.
“Okay,” Chuck said, and he removed the glasses and put them back on his daughter. “Look at me. Now tell me what you see.”
“Oh, my God!” May said.
The lighting in the room was decent, and Chuck saw through the lenses May’s eyes dilate so widely it was as if some powerful psychedelic drug had taken hold of her. She stumbled backward to the wall behind her, and it took a moment for her to regain her footing. Then, she proceeded to regard her father with such focus it took him by surprise. In the past, the only time she looked at him so intently was when she feared punishment for doing something wrong, or she was worried about something he had done wrong. This time, however, her expression wasn’t concern, but bewildered amazement.
Tentatively, May reached forward and waved her hands delicately through the air, as if trying to catch raindrops. Chuck knew she was contemplating her view of cyberspace, sifting through the drift of words and symbols that swirled around him.
“Well, Dad, as you might imagine, a guy like you has a lot of fixing up to do,” she said, imitating his roadshow voice. “I just…don’t know where to begin.”
“Start with the obvious,” he said. “That’s usually what I do.”
“You need a new car, that’s for sure, because that old clunker isn’t going to get you around much longer.”
“Any recommendations?”
“I see a small blob with wheels floating above your right shoulder,” May said. “It has a thunderbolt circling around it, and ‘75 mpg’ flashing above in red, so I guess that means...”
May pointed at Chuck’s face, right of his head. She jumped back. Chuck knew that was because the car moved and enlarged, floating between them, so more details could be accessed.
“It’s an electric Bugle, and it gets really good gas mileage.”
“What color?”
“Blue.”
“My favorite,” Chuck said. “What else you got for me?”
May swiped her hand across her face, as if swatting a fly, and Chuck knew that meant the car cleared from her field of vision, and again she peered closely at him.
“You ever think it might be time to replace your television with a Telenet?”
“Not in this lifetime,” Chuck said. “What else?”
“Floating above your left shoulder is a house, except this one is orange, not yellow,” she said.
“Why?”
Again May pointed at Chuck’s face, left of his head, so the house moved and enlarged within her visual field.
“The orange paint is made from an environmentally safe material,” she said, and her scanning eyes and flat tone made it clear she was reading the product description. “The paint keeps the house warm in winter, cool in summer, and you’ll save on your heating and air conditioning bills.”
“I’m sold,” Chuck said. “Anything else?”
May’s hands reached, dropped, dragged.
“Yes, wow!” she said. “I see a map of Jerome and a green line … your house is being dragged on the green line to the other side of town…”
“Why?”
This request took longer for May to process. She mentioned a driver’s license photo of April and a video recording of her and Chuck’s last marriage counseling session before their split. Suddenly, May removed the Radicals. She was crying.
Chuck grabbed the glasses and led her to the edge of his bed, where they sat and held each other. Finally, May lifted her head.
“The glasses recommended you move farther away from Mom because the two of you have an unhealthy relationship. The word the counselor used in the video footage I saw was toxic.”
Chuck and May peered into each other’s eyes, their view of each other un-augmented.
“What good are those glasses to me, then, when I could have told you that myself?” Chuck said.
May laughed.
“Wash away those tears in the bathroom, and then come back here,” he said and patted the bed. “We’re overdue for a heart to heart chat.”
May went into the bathroom and washed her face. Chuck gazed out the window, listening to the pattering rain. She returned and sat next to him.
“So, what’d you think about the glasses?” Chuck said.
“Too much information,” May said. “Is it like that for everyone?”
“Not always. Some people have more needs than others.”
“It made me sad seeing everything you need, Dad, the sacrifices you’ve made for Mom and me after all of these years,” May said. “You don’t buy yourself anything new, do you? Not because you’re broke or cheap, either, like Mom says, but because you�
��re trying to save money for something…right?”
“True,” Chuck said. “If I don’t need it, I don’t buy it.”
“Why?”
“You,” Chuck said. “You’re all I have, May. I’m going to help you with a car and college when it’s time. Any sacrifice for you is worth it, because your joy is my joy, and same with your hardship, too. Cars and college are expensive, and I just want to make it a little easier for you. You’ll still have to work and try to get scholarships, but you won’t struggle as much as I did. When you get older and have kids of your own, you’ll understand where I’m coming from.”
“I don’t want kids. They’re too much work.”
“Listen to me,” Chuck said, and he clasped his daughter’s hand. “You were never too much work.”
“That’s not what Mom says.”
“Well, that’s because Mom had it hardest. She had to make the most sacrifices. After the divorce, she had to look after you and work. That’s tough on anyone.”
“You had to work and look after me, too,” May said. “Why wasn’t it as tough on you?”
“Because I wasn’t around as much as your mother, and I’m still not, as much as I lament it,” Chuck said. “I’m a part-time dad, unfortunately. My job has always taken me places, and never home for too long.”
There was more Chuck wanted to share about the nature of love and relationships, he realized.
“I always assumed I’d have kids, I just wasn’t sure about having them with your mother,” Chuck said. “Instead of standing my ground, however, I went along with her plans, and it turned out to be hell for both of us.”
“It was a bad decision to have me?” May said.
“No, not at all,” Chuck said. “It was the best decision of my life.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I thought having a baby would make your mother happy, but it didn’t, at least not in the way I hoped,” Chuck said. “I thought you would fix our problems, but you only made them worse. Having a kid is a little like tossing a bomb in the middle of a relationship, so in our case, our problems just blew up in our face. Meanwhile, having you made me happy, extremely happy. I couldn’t get enough of you. You were the cutest little creature in the world! I didn’t want to work anymore, not in the traditional sense, anyway. I wanted to stay home, write my stories, raise you and watch you grow. The problem was, so did your mother. She also wanted to stay home, raise you and watch you grow. She never gave a damn about my stories, as you probably know.”
