Chapter 18 What the Fuck?
What the Fuck?
Marín
When Gus gets in the car, he’s wearing one of his classic smiles.
The ones that, when you don’t know anything about him, could seem like he’s charmed to meet you, for being born, to be living in his skin.
There’s a lot lurking underneath that, of course.
We all have our own light and our shadows, I guess.
He’s pretty good at hiding his true self, but I’m starting to see through it.
“What’s the big rush?” he says, apparently relaxed.
I bite back the urge to give him a slap on the wrist like my grandfather used to do when I was being an idiot.
Instead, I grip the wheel and breathe. I don’t know what the hell this dude is doing with his life.
I don’t know what came of the little stroll he took yesterday with Coco.
I don’t understand anything about his life.
If we were close enough, I would ask him openly: What the fuck are you actually up to?
But he’s not my brother. I’m not in charge of him, and it’s not my place to judge his decisions.
“Hey!” he says, snapping his fingers in my face.
I immediately grab his hand. The conscious part of my brain didn’t capture the orders.
“Okay, buddy,” I say, a little more gruffly than I’d like. “We need to find a motel.”
“Why? I slept great.”
Gus could sleep on a stage at a rock concert, but that’s no excuse. Loren could too, and he spent all of breakfast complaining through clenched teeth about the night this one gave him.
“All six of us can’t fit in there the whole rest of the week.”
“Why?” He shrugs. “I’m pretty broke.”
Why? Well…for him it must all be so much more comfortable because he’s an enlightened being or maybe exactly opposite—an underdeveloped one—but I slept barely six feet from my ex-girlfriend, the one I don’t know how to explain to that we can’t get back together.
If I had any doubts, they’ve dissipated.
Our differences are still there, and they’re not something that can be fixed by a few months of distance and a friendly conversation.
If someone really loves you, they don’t…
It doesn’t matter.
“A motel is going to be pricey. It’s the middle of peak season…”
“Whatever it costs.” I cut him off.
I’m not exactly rolling in it, but I’m trying to be a good guy.
And we can’t stay in that camper for multiple reasons.
For example, because Aroa is going to end up starting an Armageddon and I don’t want Coco to be nearby when she explodes; she could get hurt.
Or because the vibe is off in there. It reeks of things left unsaid.
And because…I went five times too far last night, and I’m mortified right now.
I tried. I learned a few tricks from Aroa about faking certain stuff, and during breakfast I even convinced myself it was all going to be fine and dandy, but no.
The conversation with Blanca and Loren did nothing but reaffirm it for me: This is weird.
This whole thing is really weird. We’re all fucking up our lives in a major way.
All this information is getting jumbled up in my head, and as I pull the car out, it’s all crashing against the walls of my skull. I ask Gus to watch out for any signs that say VACANCY and I shut myself in my thoughts.
Aroa must know at this point that I’ve turned the page.
I’ve tried to tell her so many times and in so many ways, but I guess until I saw her here yesterday, it wasn’t even this clear to me.
Now I know it can never happen. And she should know that too.
If Coco hasn’t talked to her, Loren probably has.
Coco…
What a mess.
I have the urge to let go of the wheel and cover my face or, even better, smack my head against it until the airbag springs out. Coco. If I confess what happened with Coco to Loren, he’ll slap me across the face. Right now they’d be vacuuming up tiny pieces of me.
I don’t know what happened to me. Months of not sleeping with anyone, I guess.
Soft, warm skin pressed up against my body.
The way she purred as she arched, pushing against my cock.
I admit that at first I thought she was asleep, but in the end…
no one can really do that stuff when they’re completely out of it.
What a mess. I rubbed up against Coco’s ass like a dog.
I nestled my hard cock against her butt, I fondled, I thrusted, I asked for more, pulling her closer to me.
I wanted to bite her shoulder, to put my hand between her legs and two fingers inside her until I made her explode.
Her. The most important her in my life, and now I’ve risked it all because of a morning wood moment.
Two. Well, the former is my fault; the latter was pretty physiological.
I wake up with a hard-on. What can I do about that?
The difference is between dry-humping like a teenager or saying a concise “I can’t get up right now because I’m hard. ”
God…I touched her tit under her shirt. She grabbed my dick. I want to die for a second and then be revived in time to jump out of the moving car.
“Motel,” Gus says in a bored tone, playing with his phone.
“What?”
“Right there.” He points to a three-story building. “There’s a motel.”
“I’m surprised you even saw it, you’re so glued to your phone.”
I peek out of the corner of my eye and see him close WhatsApp. I shouldn’t get involved, but the whole thing this morning has blown my mind. “Listen, dude.” I clear my throat. “Those poems you’ve been writing lately… Are they for someone?”
“You’re all obsessed with looking for a name for something that just flows. There’s no rhyme or reason. Past, present, future, other people, pure imagination, a song… Anything can be a catalyst.”
I lick my lips. “They’re really…good.”
“Thanks.” He sounds surprised. “I didn’t know you liked poetry.”
“I’m not an expert, but, well, I follow you, and…there’s a been kind of a big leap from the old ones to this new stuff.”
“Yeah…” He turns to the window and seems fascinated by the roundabout we’re merging into. “I’m inspired, I guess.”
“And there’s no one special?”
“There are a lot.”
“Okay, leave the bragging fuckboy outside the car. You know what I mean.”
“No. I don’t.”
“Wow, suddenly you’re an idiot.”
Gus turns to me and shoots me a look somewhere between reproachful and surprised. “What the hell is up with you this morning?”
I don’t answer. I splutter. “You went for a walk with Coco,” I insist after a few seconds of silence. “Anything to report?”
“Are you her father? Or are you her boyfriend? I’m not clear on your role here.”
“I’m her best friend. And her roommate.”
“It doesn’t matter where I went with Coco. Even if we had been fucking behind some bushes, we both know what the deal is.”
“And what is the deal?”
“There’s a spot there.”
A few feet away, a car just left a free parking spot.
I’ll have to wait to give him the third degree some other time.
I swear, normally Gus and I get along really well, but today he’s driving me nuts.
Not sleeping well makes me feel bad. Not eating well makes me feel bad.
Fooling around with my best friend makes me feel bad.
The motel is terrifying. Seriously. Gus flashes sad puppy eyes at me a few times, but even though I’d rather go back to the RV of a thousand loves too, we can’t. Neither of us can. If I’m in a hell of a mess, he’s spent a year on a roundabout, going around and around endlessly.
“We can look and see if there’s another motel in town.
Or buy a tent. Let’s go buy one of those pop-up tents that you just throw in the air and they open.
” Gus’s tone is pleading, and even though we could go look for another motel, we don’t, mostly because I’m pissed off and I don’t want to admit that he’s right.
“How can I help you?” The gentleman at reception is wearing a white tank top, a gold chain drooping over his chest, and a toothpick hanging out of the corner of his mouth.
Gus and I are both blown away when we see him. He reminds me of someone.
“One room please,” I manage to say.
“One or two beds.”
“Two,” Gus hurries to say.
“Calm down,” I say. “You can bet your ass that after the night you gave Loren I have no desire to try it out.”
The man shoots us an apathetic look.
I slide my driver’s license over the counter to hurry along the procedure. I want to take a shower, although judging by the lobby, I wouldn’t be surprised if the kraken comes out of the drain.
The man makes crooked photocopies of our IDs on a mastodon photocopier roaring in the corner while we stare at each other.
“The thing is, he reminds me of someone.”
As soon as he turns back to us, he smiles.
My God. I have to contain myself so I don’t let out a guffaw.
Gus straightens up. I think we’ve both come to the same conclusion: This dude is the Ghost of Gus Yet to Come, an image of what this dandy next to me could turn into.
With less hair on his head, more on his chest, shoulders, arms, and who knows where else, with a prominent gut and a tank top covered in sweat stains…
The future Gus hands us a heavy wooden key chain with the room number engraved in red.
“Room six.”
“Thank you.”
“Don’t get in too much trouble, okay?” he warns us as he creaks into an armchair that we didn’t notice when we came in. “I was young once too, and I know this place is full of pretty girls, but…keep it down. You can do a lot in silence.”
“Okay,” we both say.
“I was like this too when I was young.” He points in our direction. “The truth is, dude, I would’ve given you a run for your money.”
I swear even the color of Gus’s face changes.
“You didn’t have a girlfriend in Madrid in the late eighties, did you?” I ask.
Gus’s kick lands on my shin, but I swallow my yelp. I deserve it.
* * *
“Dude, that old guy looked like my grandfather,” he says when we get to the room.