The Love Machine

by Nicholas Bruner

  “It’s…it’s being with a guy who likes the same things you do, somebody you can be friends with. You can go to movies with him, or shopping, or just hang out. Somebody you have fun being with and you laugh when you’re together.”

  Corn snorted. “Listen to yourself. ‘You like the same things? You’re friends with each other? You go shopping together?’ You don’t even want a man. You want a girlfriend who happens to be a guy so you can show him off. No wonder you’re single, no self-respecting man would—”

  Tina clapped her hands. “I’m not done yet!” She touched her finger to her chin. “I’m…I’m looking for a guy who lets you be free. He doesn’t force things on you when things don’t go his way, like with an argument, or a fight. Someone who doesn’t try to change who you are, or trick you into doing something you don’t want to do—Corn—so you’re free to be yourself, and he’s free to be himself, and you come together to be something great, but you’re still both individuals. What do you think of that?”

  “Better,” Corn said. “But, even if all that is true, the most important aspect is still physical.”

  “No,” Tina said, shaking her head. “If you love each other the physical doesn’t even matter.”

  Corn smiled indulgently. “Wrong, wrong, wrong.”

  “What is it, then, smart ass?” Tina said. “Love is just about making out and sex?”

  “Nope,” Corn said. “But the physical has to be there. It’s the first thing, and the last. All the other shit is wrapped up in it. Your future boyfriend might be going shopping with you, but only because he hopes to get some nookie afterwards.”

  “You are so shallow.”

  “That’s how the world works, Tina. It’s not just me. It’s always been that way. That book we read out loud in English class? About those Greeks who fought a war when that chick was kidnapped, you know who I mean? What’s-her-name, the most beautiful woman in the world?”

  “Helen of Troy,” said Barrow, pulling his mouth away from Tommy’s long enough to speak.

  “Yeah, her,” Corn said. “You think those Greek dudes went to war because they wanted to go to dinner with her? No way. They did it because she was hot. They wanted to sleep with her. Their loins were engulfed.”

  “Inflamed,” Barrow said.

  “Would you stop it?”

  “Sorry,” Barrow said, locking eyes with Tommy and running his hands through his sandy-blond hair.

  “Their loins were inflamed,” Corn said. “Those dudes were willing to fight a war and die to get that chick back ’cause they wanted her that bad. That’s what motivates guys. Anything you see guys do or make—buildings, cars, cities, wars—it’s because females are at stake. You like living in that big house of yours? The only reason you live there is because your daddy earns that money so your mama will give him some play.”

  “I can’t believe you really think that,” Tina said.

  Kyna put a finger to Grunt’s lips and pushed his head back. “Corn’s right, you know.”

  “He is?” Tina said, eyebrows arched.

  “You tell her, sister,” Corn said.

  “Well, he’s half right. He just doesn’t finish it.”

  Corn pointed at her. “Tell us the whole story, Kyna.”

  “You have to start off with physical attraction,” Kyna said, clapping her hand on Grunt’s belly. “With a devastating hunk of man you can’t keep your hands off of.”

  Grunt stretched his arms and grinned. “That’s me.”

  “We got it,” Corn said. “Keep going, Kyna.”

  “Well, if you two are really meant to be together, eventually you’ll go all the way and make a baby. And that’s when the second half starts. ’Cause raising a baby is really hard, even though you love that little guy as much as anything, but you still have to wake up in the middle of the night and feed bottles and change diapers and it takes up like most of your time. And you and your man have to be for real dedicated to each other. Not just you like to go shopping and watch movies together. I mean, you have to be solid. And that’s where doin’ it comes in, because that’s what seals you two together.”

  “So you’re saying love is just for making babies,” Tina said, rolling her eyes.

  “Not just for making them. Once you have a baby, you have to love it too, enough so you stick with it for eighteen years, through everything that baby will need. Love is what starts your family and love is what keeps your family together when everything else is hard. That’s my answer.”

  “We’re going to make lots of babies,” Grunt said, hugging Kyna close.

  “We certainly are, Mr. Tummykins!” Kyna squealed.

  “Okay, Kyna makes a good point,” Corn said. He pointed at Barrow. “Bring it home for us.”

  “Oh, okay,” Barrow said, looking up. “My turn already. You’re asking what love is, right?”

  “Yep,” Corn said. “Clear it up for us.”

  “That’s easy,” Barrow said. “Love is acceptance.”

  “Acceptance?” Corn looked skeptical. Tina nodded her head.

  “Sure. All that stuff about physical and whatever is on the wrong track. I mean, that’s important for some people, maybe not for others. I think that has more to do with the kind of relationship you’re in. You know, because you love your boyfriend or girlfriend one way, and your parents another, and your friends another way. Right?”

  “Exactly,” Tina said. “There’s different kinds of love.”

  “But what I’ve been thinking about a lot lately, is what’s the most basic part of any kind of love?” Barrow said. “So I thought about my situation, with my parents trying to change my being gay. I could fake it for them. I tried to tonight. But I couldn’t do it. And even if I could have changed for them, they wouldn’t be loving the real person I actually am. I mean, I know they do love me, and they’re trying to guide me in growing up the right way or whatever, but at some point, parents really need to accept who their kids turn out to be. Am I making sense?”

  “Keep going,” Corn said.

  “So I started expanding that out, and I think with everyone it’s the same thing. Acceptance is the basis for all kinds of love, just loving someone no matter what their flaws are. If you’re always trying to change your boyfriend or girlfriend, that relationship is not going to last long. You probably actually need to be with somebody else who’s more compatible. And your friends, those are the people you accept for who they are. That’s why we’re all here together in this room, right?”

  “Damn right,” Grunt said from where he was kissing Kyna’s neck.

  “You know what, Barrow?” Corn asked. “I think you’ve finally gotten to the bottom of it for us. Acceptance.” He gazed into Monica’s eyes. “And now for that strawberry ice cream.”

  “Wait a minute,” Alva said, pushing his contraption back and swiveling on his stool. “I’ve been listening, and you’re not done yet.”

  Corn sighed. “I was afraid this would happen. I’m so sorry, y’all.”

  “Are you going to let me talk?” Alva asked.

  “I couldn’t stop you if I tried,” Corn said. “Lay it on us. Tell us about love in nerd land.”

  “Okay,” Alva said. “Why do you think Thomas Edison invented things?”

  “Um, to get rich and famous?” Grunt said.

  Alva shook his head. “Nope. He invented things because he wanted to serve mankind. Inventors and scientists don’t care if anybody knows who they are, and they’re not in it for the money. Most inventors don’t even make any money in the long run.”

  “So you’re saying they do it out of the goodness of their hearts,” Corn said.

  “That’s right,” Alva said. “Any of y’all ever heard of Norman Borlaug?”

  Silence. Slightly impatient, baffled silence. But silence.

  Alva smiled. “He was the father of the green revolution. He invented new crops with higher yields. He saved more people from starving to death in the twentieth century than anybody else in hum
an history. He probably saved a billion people all over the world. And hardly anybody’s ever heard of him! But he didn’t care.”

  “Is that true?” Kyna asked.

  “It’s one hundred percent true,” Alva said. “That’s what love is. Those other things might be love too, but the best love is serving mankind, improving people’s lives even if they never realize who did it.”

  “And that’s the kind of love you have?” Monica said.

  “Absolutely,” Alva said.

  “Bull. Shit.” A female voice came from the stairwell.

  Everybody turned. A drenched figure, dripping clothes pasted to her body, a soaked backpack dangling from one hand, stepped down from the shadow into the light.

  “Alcie,” Alva whispered.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Sunday, 6:55 a.m.

  “Don’t believe him!” Alcie said. “Don’t believe a word he breathes. Alva doesn’t care about you. He doesn’t give a shit about mankind.” Her voice trembled. “And he doesn’t care about me.”

  “Alcie, are you drunk?” Tina asked.

  “Yeah, so what? Does that make anything I’ve said less true? In vino veritas, right?” She stepped into the basement, dripping on the carpet. “Alva. That’s not even his real name. He just wants to be famous like his hero. What he doesn’t tell you is that Thomas Edison stole every idea he ever had.”

  “You leave Thomas Edison out of this!”

  Alcie ignored him. “Alva doesn’t know the first thing about love. He plays it so cool, hiding behind his brains and his keyboards and his inventions. But he doesn’t have the guts to form a real human connection.”

  “That’s…kind of true, dude,” Grunt said, snuggling next to Kyna.

  “You think you can get close to him, but he only lets you get so far, and then the gates come down,” Alcie continued. “Did you know when we were dating, I tried to give him a blowjob behind the Wilson’s, and he turned me down?”

  “Wow, I wish I hadn’t just heard that,” Tina said.

  “You turned it down?” Corn said to Alva. “Are you crazy?”

  Alva shrugged his shoulders defensively. “I wasn’t ready yet!”

  Monica pushed Corn away and sat up straight on the couch. “Alcie, you’ve got your nerve, don’t you? Coming in here and criticizing Alva for not caring about people. Weren’t you the one who tried to steal the Love Machine and use me as bait to get revenge on Corn? How’s that for caring about people?”

  “Not only that,” Tina said. “She was actually planning to get revenge on Alva the whole time. I think by breaking up his band.”

  “Is that true, Alcie?” Alva said, his eyebrows furrowing.

  “Okay,” Alcie said. “Let’s not get too excited. Tina and I may have had a plan to steal the Love Machine at the Latin Party. I guess it didn’t work out too well. No big deal.”

  Monica stiffened. “It is a big deal! You dolled me up and were going to use the Love Machine on Corn to make him fall in love with me!”

  “What do you want me to do?” Alcie asked. “Apologize?”

  “Yes!”

  “Well, it looks like things didn’t turn out so bad for you.” She nodded at Corn, who pulled Monica back in close.

  “She’s got a point, baby,” Corn murmured in her ear. “If not for her being a psycho, we might not be together now.”

  Monica pushed Corn back against the cushion and leaned forward. “That doesn’t excuse you, Alcie. You still owe me an apology!”

  “Okay.” Alcie shrugged her shoulders. “I’m sorry.”

  Tina frowned. “You know, Alcie, you used to be a cool person. You need to get over this obsession with Alva. It’s messing you up.”

  “Ha!” Alcie said. “Obsession. Y’all are so naïve. I heard you from the top of the stairs, with all your little theories about love. And I can tell you, nobody in this room knows one freakin’ thing about love.”

  “And you do?” Tina said.

  “I know exactly what love will do to you. It will take control of your mind and you won’t be able to do a thing to stop it. Y’all have this idea love is a gentle little kitten, making everybody be good and noble all the time. You’re completely wrong. Love is a force of nature. It’s a flood. An ocean. A tidal wave. And y’all are so happy in your teeny tiny boats on top. But when it’s through with you, it will you tip you over and drown you. You have no idea how far down it goes.”

  Corn raised his eyebrows. “Woman knows what she’s talking about.”

  “Y’all want to play with love? Channel it? Control it with a machine?” Alcie snorted. “The Love Machine. What a goddamn joke. Leave it to Alva to think you could reduce love to a device. How’d that work out for you? Not so good, huh?” She unzipped the backpack and lifted the Love Machine out, lights glowing and twinkling. She heaved it in the middle of the room, where it landed with a thunk. It emitted one last sad beep and its lights faded.

  “Holy cow.” Alva looked from the machine to Alcie and back. “Where did you find it?”

  “In the middle of the damn street when I was walking home from the party,” Alcie said. “When I picked it up some fool hiding behind a couple trash cans skittered out, gibbering and crying like a kicked dog. So I growled at him and he crawled back to his hiding place.”

  “Paul Zablonski,” Alva said. “The effect diminishes with the square of the distance. But he was right there. His amygdala must be unbelievably stimulated, reverting him to the most primal state.”

  “In English, Professor,” Corn said.

  Alva spoke slowly. “Because he was the one holding it when he pushed the button at the party, it hit him hardest.” He punched his fist in his palm. “It hit him so hard, it stripped him down to the most basic emotion animals have: fear. Right now, Paul Zablonski must feel like a chicken in a roomful of foxes.”

  “Oh my God,” Kyna said. “Is it permanent?”

  “No,” Alva said. “It was a big dose, but it should wear off after a while. I’d guess within twenty-four to forty-eight hours.”

  “Well?” Alcie said, glaring at Alva. “I’m waiting.”

  Alva blinked a couple times. “Oh! I can probably fix it. I definitely need to correct the regulator on it, and then—”

  “Aaaughh!” Alcie screamed, snatched her backpack, and stomped up the stairs, slamming the door at the top. They could hear her footfalls across the floor upstairs and out the front.

  Alva stared after her, the vision still on his retinas of her blonde dripping hair, her flushed face, her wetted blouse almost see-through against her skin, her violent blue eyes over adorably flaring nostrils. Nobody else said a word for long moments.

  Then Barrow clicked his tongue. “You’re an idiot, dude.”

  Without warning, Alva picked up the Love Machine and flung it against the brick basement wall. Circuits and wires and screws ricocheted around the room, clattering across the tile floor.

  “Are you okay?” Corn asked in the silence that followed.

  “I don’t know what to do now,” Alva said quietly.

  “You already forgot the Bust a Move Theory?” Corn said.

  Alva looked at him with realization on his face, turned and ran up the stairs and into the front hallway. He halted outside the kitchen when he spotted his mom and Tony at the table in bathrobes and pajamas, drinking calmly from coffee mugs. Had Tony spent the night?

  “I don’t think she’s gone far,” Tony said, glancing over the top of his glasses from behind the newspaper. “I bet you can still catch her.”

  “Thanks,” Alva mumbled. Worry about Mom later.

  Outside he spotted Alcie headed down the sidewalk in the cool gray drizzle. She was only about half a block away but striding determinedly. He sprinted after her.

  “Alcie! Alcie, wait!” he called.

  She didn’t stop.

  He caught up with her and put his hand on her shoulder. “Wait! Please.”

  “What the hell do you want?” She stopped but didn’t
look at him.

  “I destroyed the Love Machine. Threw it right against the wall.”

  Alcie set her jaw. “So?”

  “So I have some plans for the day. And I need you to be there for them.”

  Her face seemed to soften an iota. “What kind of plans?”

  “Second, I’m going to borrow my mom’s car so we can get Paul Zablonski and take him home. Third, I’m going to take you out to breakfast. I know you need coffee.”

  “I need coffee so bad. But you forgot first, genius.”

  “No, I didn’t. This is what’s first.” He turned her around and put his lips against hers. He realized she was shivering in the damp morning and wrapped his arms around her, bringing her body close to his. When they finished their kiss, he said, “And fourth, maybe we could drive behind the Wilson’s later.”

  Alcie smiled. “Maybe someday. But let’s go back to what’s first.”

  And they did.

  * * *

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  I’d like to thank all the people who have helped me in the writing and production of this book: Angela Glascock, Anita Klein, Steve Moriarty, and the members of the Writers of Chantilly, who have done so much to improve my writing with their comments, advice, and encouragement over the years!

  Look for

  Jesus Bugs

  A Southern Gothic YA by Nicholas Bruner

  coming in Spring 2021!

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  Mother Ink

  The first book of an epic fantasy

  trilogy by Nicholas Bruner

  coming in Fall 2021!