Entire Rooms Have Disappeared

There ought to be a limit on how much attention a face requires.

I'm nearly certain that was understood at some point.

Another dispatch from Scott Evers. Read for you by Geezer III.

Where to start.

I'm shaving. In case that's not clear.

Not because I've got somewhere to be.

No. I just looked in the mirror and thought: who exactly authorized all this.

Hold on.

Where's that towel.

There.

Little blood.

Marvelous.

You spend enough years on earth and eventually your own face starts putting up resistance.

I can hear something scratching now.

Hold on.

No emergency.

Just somebody impatient.

There she is. Along with the desert air.

Howdy, girl.

This dog walks in like she pays taxes here.

No apology whatsoever.

Straight through the kitchen.

Tail first.

I follow her.

Coffee pot's still hot.

Phone rings.

Ah.

— There we are.

— fred. well well. what are you doing.

— I could ask the same of you.

— standing in my kitchen bleeding apparently.

— jesus christ.

— no no.

— not dramatically.

— tiny amount.

— if i die tell everybody i fought bravely.

— i won't.

— thank you.

Chair complains beneath me.

Everything complains nowadays.

— where are you.

— truck.

— naturally.

— parked.

— mostly parked.

— fred.

— define mostly.

—

— hold on.

— somebody wants to say hello?

Ah.

There he is.

Benjamin.

Ladies and gentlemen this is Ben.

Fred's grandson. Roxy and Carlo's boy.

Still young enough to say things before the world has had an opportunity to improve them.

— hello there sonny.

— i know your name's ben.

— sonny is what i say when i think of you.

—

— what're you doing up.

— couldn't sleep.

— understandable.

— i've been trying that myself.

— what've you been doing.

— dangerous.

— yes.

— what were you thinking about.

—

— a bartender.

— or a butler.

—

— that's a nice arrangement.

— keeping your options open.

— yes.

I'm smiling now.

I don't know why exactly.

Maybe because there's something comforting about that.

Boy wants to hand people drinks and make sure they're alright.

Boy wants to spend his life asking if anybody needs anything.

Not bad.

Not bad at all.

— you there sonny.

— you'd be a good one.

—

— okay okay.

Ah.

There's grandpa.

—

— future bartender apparently.

— no no.

— leave him alone.

— that's beautiful.

— beautiful.

— yes.

— everybody's trying to become something important.

— boy wants to hand out drinks.

— right.

— fred. i put bleach in with the colors, a cap full?

— i'm out of skivvies.

— jesus, get out of there.

— fuckin' raccoon in the garage.

Funny thing about Fred.

Sometimes you can hear him deciding whether to say something.

— roxy called earlier.

— oh?

— how's she doing.

—

I can hear him thinking again.

— alright i guess.

— hard to talk anymore.

No anger.

Nothing sharp.

Just there.

Like weather.

— what do you mean.

— you don't know.

— that's tricky, when it feels like every road goes someplace.

— next thing you know you're off in the weeds somewhere.

—

— let's just talk about things that don't get us in trouble?

Ah.

There it is.

—

— you. That's how you put it?

— i think i might've said near the same.

Little collar jingle behind me.

There she goes rolling over on the porch boards.

Funny thing.

I don't think anybody notices when it starts.

You wake up one day and entire rooms have disappeared.

Places you used to walk into without thinking.

Now you stand at the doorway looking in.

— you there.

— yeah.

— i'm here.

—

Parents especially seem to get put in a strange position.

Children don't want politics from their parents.

Something about it feels wrong.

Like your parents ought to stay exactly where you left them.

Smiling.

Nodding.

Permanent residents of some perpetual womb of gratitude.

Good job honey.

Wonderful honey.

We're proud of you honey.

—

No.

That ain't right either.

—

Wind's coming up a little.

I can hear traffic way off.

Somebody shutting a door.

Dog breathing beside me now.

Just enough to know she's there.

— what're you thinking.

—

— yes.

—

— ben wants to be a bartender.

—

— that's it?

— maybe that's enough.

— okay okay.

— then maybe that's enough future for one night.

—

— say good night fred.

— ha.

— here girl. No no. Don't do that. 'Cause i'm not pickin' it up if you do.

— here you go. go get it.