The Love Machine

by Nicholas Bruner

  “I don’t think Vladimir Horowitz would agree,” Alcie said under her breath.

  Carol ran her fingers through Alcie’s fine blonde hair. “It’s that boy, isn’t it? Alva? For three weeks after the two of you broke up, you were so…driven.”

  Alcie gritted her teeth. “I’ve always been driven, Carol.”

  “Not like this. And then he showed up here again the other night and brought all those feelings to the surface again.” She began to braid Alcie’s hair. “It’ll be okay, honey. There are other boys out there.”

  “No!” Alcie pushed Carol’s hands away. “I can’t stop until it’s done. Either I can do it, or I can’t. But getting close and messing it up is unacceptable. I don’t care what you think, or anyone. People can laugh at me, or feel sorry for me. Who cares? I’m going to get this right no matter what everyone says.” And she brought her fingers down on the keyboard like the hammering raindrops of a thunderstorm.

  Saturday, 8:20 p.m.

  “Mark, did you know Mom has a boyfriend?” Alva spoke urgently into the receiver as he paced in the basement.

  Mark laughed on his end. “Yeah, sure. I met Tony when I was down there for spring break.” There was silence on the line. “Alva, you still there?”

  “Yeah, I’m still here. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Mom asked me not to. She said she wanted to introduce you to him at the right time. I guess tonight was the right time, huh?”

  “No, it wasn’t. It really wasn’t.”

  “Well, when would have been the right time?” Mark asked.

  “I don’t know. Before now. Or maybe later. Maybe never.”

  “Alva, you can’t be like that. Mom deserves to be with someone. She shouldn’t have to put her life on hold because you can’t handle seeing her with a new guy.”

  “You’re right, but I didn’t really mean it that way.” Alva stopped at a shelf and traced a finger along a voltage tester.

  “So what do you think of him?” Mark asked.

  “He’s cool, I guess. I mean, one of my inventions got stolen, and I’m trying to get it back and kind of got a little roughed up by the guys who took it, and Mom wanted to call the police and their parents and everything, and Tony—”

  “Oh my God, Alva, are you okay?”

  “Yeah, it was just a busted lip and a bloody nose. No big deal. And then I’d made another date for Mom, a blind date, and that guy showed up—”

  “Wait, did you just say you made a date for Mom with another guy?”

  “Yeah, well, I didn’t know she had a boyfriend!”

  “So what happened then?” Mark said.

  “Well, I kind of fainted for a moment, and Mom was freaking out, and Tony calmed her down and even made jokes with the other guy and smoothed things over.”

  “Oh my God, Alva.”

  “I know, right?” Alva said. “But Tony was actually kind of a lifesaver, I guess.”

  “See, he’s not bad, right? I like him, myself. Real funny guy. I think he’s great with Mom.”

  “Yeah.” Alva’s voice was still doubtful.

  There were some voices in the background and Mark’s voice grew faint. “Yeah, I’ll go with you in a minute. I’m on the line with my brother.” Then louder, “Listen. I’m glad you’re down there, watching out for Mom and worrying about her since I can’t be there.”

  “I try to.”

  “You know, Dad would be proud of you.”

  “Do you really think so?” Alva asked.

  “I know so,” Mark said. “Let me talk to Mom real fast, okay? Keep on working on your inventions.”

  “I will. Thanks, Mark.” Alva put the receiver down and went to the bottom of the stairs. “MOM! PHONE!”

  He hung up the line when he heard her voice and gazed for a while at the cover of the Vancoram Review and its valuable signature across the bottom right corner: Mr. Thos. A. Edison. On an impulse, he lifted the frame from its nail on the wall and set it face-down on his desk. He pulled an envelope out from its hiding place along the frame’s back edge and withdrew a letter.

  To my dear son David on his 13th birthday,

  Always keep learning, and keep discovering new things. I know if you study hard and stay curious no matter what, someday you will be a great scientist or inventor, my own young Edison. Try to bring great joy and love into the world with all your inventions.

  Love always,

  Dad.

  PART FOUR:

  AGAPE

  Chapter Twenty

  Tuesday, May 21st, 6:42 p.m.

  “Okay, what is Ohm’s Law?” Alva said.

  Monica closed her eyes and put her fingers to her forehead. “Umm. I’ve got this one. It’s got a V in it.”

  “It does. What else?”

  “V equals something.”

  “You’re on the right track,” Alva said. “V equals I times R. Now what do those stand for?”

  “Well, V is for voltage. And the R is for resistance.” Monica screwed up her eyes and opened them again with a sigh. “I don’t remember.”

  “I is the current. It’s not too hard.”

  “How can I remember that?” Monica groaned. “Current doesn’t even start with I!”

  “Forget it,” Corn called from the couch where he sat with Grunt and Jason Burman, watching Yo! MTV Raps. “You’ll never absorb the nerditry from Alva. He’s too far ahead of the rest of the human race to communicate with the likes of us.”

  “I don’t know,” Barrow said from where he sat thumbing through a Guitar Player magazine in an armchair. “It sounds like she’s making progress to me.”

  Monica smiled at Alva and put her hand on his. “The problem is me, not him. Alva’s a great teacher. A lot more patient than I would be.”

  Alva drew his hand back. “Let’s go back and review electrical circuits again. I want you to try drawing one yourself this time.”

  Corn reached behind Grunt’s head to punch Jason in the shoulder. “Hey, I bet you don’t have to put up with geek study hall at your usual hang out.”

  “Believe it or not, I find it refreshing,” Jason said.

  “Oh, yeah? How’s that?”

  “The usual thing with Taffy and Eric and Andre is seeing who can crush a beer can on his forehead or who can rack up the highest score in Madden Football. It’s different with y’all.” Jason shrugged. “But I like it. And it’s cool that y’all are letting me hang out here.”

  “It’s the least we could do,” Alva said.

  “After I got you and Barrow beat up?”

  “Hey, that wasn’t your fault,” Alva said. “You were trying to get the Love Machine back where it belongs.”

  “Oh, shit!” Grunt yelled and stood straight up. “Everybody shut up! It’s Mama Said Knock You Out. Corn, turn that shit up!”

  Grunt leapt around the room in time to the music, mock sparring with lamps, electronics gear, the backs of people’s heads. As the song ended he slumped back between Jason and Corn.

  “You like that one, huh?” Jason said.

  “Best rap song ever.”

  “Yes!” Corn said. He muted the volume with the remote. “Okay, Mama Said Knock You Out for Grunt. Best rap songs ever. You.” He pointed at Jason.

  “My favorite rap song?”

  Corn nodded expectantly.

  “Umm, Self-Destruction?”

  “Respectable. For a first-timer.” Corn pointed at Alva. “What’s your choice, brainiac? Something we’ve all heard of, please?”

  “Me, Myself, and I,” Alva said. “De La Soul.”

  “Okay, not bad, not bad. Kind of out there, but surprisingly solid.” He pointed at Barrow.

  Barrow spoke without looking up from his reading. “Digital Underground. The Humpty Dance.”

  Corn pumped his fist. “Yes! Barrow brings it home! That is it. Digital Underground. God, I love having you back here.” He pointed the remote and had his finger above the button to unmute the volume.

  “Excuse me?” Monica s
aid. “Aren’t you forgetting somebody?”

  “You?” Corn said, lowering the remote and slowly turning back around.

  “Yes, me. You think girls can’t listen to rap?”

  Corn put his hand through his hair. “I didn’t say that. It’s just…”

  “Just what?” Monica said, her eyebrows arched.

  “Nothing. Fine, what’s your favorite rap song?”

  “Bust a Move.”

  “Bust a Move?” Corn snorted. “Weak. See, that’s why I don’t ask chicks questions like that.”

  “Ask me why.”

  “Why what?” Corn said.

  “Why it’s my favorite rap song.”

  “All right.” Corn smiled indugently. “Monica, why is Bust a Move your favorite rap song?”

  “Because it’s all about what girls really find attractive in a guy.”

  “Go on,” Corn said.

  “See, all you guys think you have to have looks, or money, or muscles, or the right clothes. But that’s not what really turns us on.”

  Five pairs of eyes stared at her. She smiled and continued.

  “What we really want is a guy with confidence. It’s like the dude in the song—he can’t get a girl’s attention with his dumb jokes, or his dancing, or whatever. And later, he thinks if only he had money and a car, that would make things better.”

  “It wouldn’t?” Grunt asked.

  “No. What happens in the song? It’s only when he actually goes right up to a girl and just asks her to dance or talks to her like it’s no big deal that she falls for him. That’s how it is with girls. For me, at least. I mean, I might not even notice a guy, some dude hanging out in the hallway or whatever, but when he approaches me, busts a move, I think, ‘Here’s a man who’s not scared to talk to a woman. When he sees something he likes, he goes for it.’ And I find that very, very intriguing.”

  The only sound was the low drone of a commercial on the television. Jason let out a low whistle.

  “The Bust a Move Theory,” Alva said, stroking his chin. “This could change everything.”

  Tuesday, 7:18 p.m.

  “I was wondering how long it would take you to get here,” Sherry said at the front door. She bit her bottom lip and blinked up at Andre. “I hope you didn’t break the speed limit.”

  “You’re lucky I didn’t break the sound barrier.” Andre loved the way she pouted her lips like that. He could hardly control himself. He stepped into the house and grabbed Sherry around the waist. Her Guess jeans were so tight it was like her legs and ass had been melted into them, and he was already pulling her oversized sweatshirt off over her head. “They gone, right?”

  “All evening, baby.”

  “That’s what I like to hear.” He had one hand down the back of her jeans, pulling her close to him.

  “Should we go up to the bedroom, or start right here?” she asked.

  Andre’s voice was muffled from where he was kissing her shoulder, just below the bra strap. “Why not both?”

  Sherry giggled. “Ooh, don’t stop. Did you bring the condoms?”

  “A whole pack.” Andre kissed up the side of her neck. “I hope twelve is enough.”

  “And you brought the Love Machine, right?”

  Andre paused, his eyes rolling up to her face. “What?”

  “The Love Machine. Did you bring it?”

  Andre clicked his tongue and straightened. “Do we need it?”

  She ran her forefinger down his chest. “I guess we don’t need it. But when I use it, it just makes me feel, like…”

  “Makes you feel like what? Like I’m the guy you actually want to be with?”

  “It’s not that, Andre. It makes the feelings more intense.”

  “I see.” Andre pulled his hands back to his sides. “Because otherwise you don’t have strong feelings for me.”

  “I do, Andre! I love you. But it’s so much easier with the Love Machine.”

  “Well, what if it’s not always supposed to be easy?”

  Sherry drew her head back. “What, I’m supposed to get with you even if I don’t really feel like it?”

  “Well, why don’t you feel like it? I want you to want me because you, you know, really want me. Not because some machine makes you have feelings.”

  “I do really want you! Why do you have to make such a big deal out of this?”

  “I thought what we had was real. Man, ever since we started with that goddamn machine, I don’t know.”

  He shook his head and turned.

  “Wait, Andre! We can try it without. Like we used to.”

  “Forget it, Sherry. Put your sweatshirt back on.” Andre slammed the door behind him. He threw himself in the seat of his black F-150 and picked up the Love Machine where he’d left it on the passenger seat. It’s not too late, if I wanted to go back. Be a damn waste of an evening with her parents gone. He stared at the contraption, its coiled wires looping crazily. Jason was right after all. This thing sucks. He tossed it with disgust behind the seats. Taffy could have it.

  Wednesday, May 22nd, 4:44 p.m.

  Grunt crashed the cymbals, Corn threw in repeated bass slides, Barrow held his guitar towards the amp to produce a swell of feedback, and Alva punched out a churn of keyboard bloops. The ending of the song took a full two minutes as each attempted to outdo the other in chaos and volume.

  Monica and Jason clapped politely from their plastic seats at the far end of Grunt’s garage as the last cymbal hit died out.

  “What’d you think?” Alva asked.

  “I didn’t remember Eleanor Rigby as being so loud,” Jason said. “Or having a wailing guitar solo.”

  “I’ve always thought that’s what that song needed,” Barrow said. “But seriously, we weren’t bad, right?”

  Corn nodded at Monica. “How’d it sound to you?”

  “It was…okay,” Monica said.

  Corn raised his eyebrows. “That’s not what your face says.” Monica didn’t respond so he turned to Jason. “You know, I heard Halitosis Demon is playing at your buddy Taffy’s beach house on Saturday.”

  “Man, those guys are animals,” Jason said. He picked up a bag of potato chips from beside his chair and popped a couple in his mouth.

  Barrow plucked a string, adjusted its tuning. “I’m surprised Taffy and them would even want Hillard High’s finest grindcore band at their little soiree.”

  “It’s a matter of money,” Jason said, talking around the chips. “That was the cheapest band Taffy could find. They agreed to play for a hundred bucks and a case of Budweiser. The music doesn’t matter anyway—their big plan is to the use the Love Machine on the whole party afterwards.”

  “Man, we would’ve played for a lot less than that,” Grunt said.

  “We still could,” Alva said.

  “Yeah, how?” Corn said.

  “By going to the party. Even better, this could be our best chance to get the Love Machine back, before they use it on everybody.”

  “You’ve got a one-track mind, you know that?” Barrow said. “Why don’t we leave the Love Machine alone for a while?”

  “So you think it’s a good idea for Taffy and his crew to be running around with it?” Alva asked.

  “Hey, I feel you,” Corn said. “I mean, the more chicks they use that machine on, the less there are for me. But what Barrow and me are sayin’ is, how’re we gonna get in the party, genius? They’re not exactly going to let us waltz in.”

  Monica pursed her lips. “Maybe you could work out a deal with Halitosis Demon?”

  “What’re we gonna do?” Corn asked. “Just walk on and play their instruments? We still have to get in the door.”

  “No, that’s it!” Alva said. “Exactly what you said. We’ll just walk on and play their instruments. That way we won’t have to have anything set up ahead of time, and Taffy will never know we’re coming. We’ll work it out with Halitosis Demon.”

  “That is so not going to work,” Corn said.

  “List
en,” Alva said. “First, Taffy’ll wait until the band is finished before using the Love Machine, right? And everybody there’s going to be focused on the stage. So, all we have to do is sneak in, and when Halitosis Demon takes a break, we run out on stage and play before Taffy can use it and before anybody knows what’s happening.”

  “I get it,” Grunt said from behind the drum kit. “They can’t exactly kick us out if we’re actually playing and entertaining the crowd.”

  “Exactly,” Alva said. “And Jason, while we’re playing, you can figure out who has the Love Machine and get it from them.”

  “Maybe,” Jason said doubtfully. “Would it really be that bad if they kept the Love Machine? What do you think would happen if they did use it, anyway?”

  “Like the teachers’ lounge, except worse,” Alva said. “It’s getting stronger every time it’s used, so I’m not sure exactly. Anything from an orgy to a riot. Could be people going crazy, property damage, unplanned pregnancies, ambulances. I just don’t know.”

  Jason nodded his head. “So getting the band up on stage there pretty much has to work.” He held out the potato chip bag to Monica.

  “I don’t think it will, though,” Monica said, crunching on a chip.

  “Oh, what’s the problem now?” Corn asked. “Einstein over there’s got it all figured out.”

  Monica shook her head. “Not quite. How’re you going to get Tina to sing with you?”

  Corn laughed derisively. “Not even important. I’ll be singing the songs, thank you.”

  “Y’all are…pretty good,” Monica said. “But Tina makes you great. And you have to be good enough not to get pulled offstage by Taffy and the basketball team, right? Like, good enough they wouldn’t dare interrupt the show.”

  “Me and Corn’ll take care of ‘em,” Grunt said, whacking a drum stick against the snare. “A punch in the nose.”

  “While we’re playing, dude?” Barrow said. “With our instruments strapped on?”