Chapter 14 Pac-Man and White Zin
Pac-Man and White Zin
Sitting on a beanbag in Cam’s room, Otis mashed down the controller and steered Pac-Man toward the enemy. “You can’t take me alive!”
“Not that way, you git. They’ll eat your face off!” Cam screamed from his tiptoed stance; he hadn’t sat down for thirty minutes.
“Let’s not call names,” Otis said. He had to be careful what he said lately, because Cam had turned into a parrot.
Otis had no idea what monsters he would create when he surprised Camden with a new Atari game console a week ago.
So much for them ever doing their farm chores again.
Michael sat cross-legged only a couple of feet from the television.
At five, he hadn’t quite figured out how to play yet, but he was mesmerized by the game’s visuals.
Otis’s recess had just started. He’d been dropping new plantings into the ground when Rebecca rang the bell.
To call Otis in from the vineyard, she’d purchased an old church bell from an antique store and hung it from the pergola that rose over the terrace.
When that bell rang, Otis had minutes to race to the house to join the boys in recess.
Or else.
Or else was her new ugh. It was extraordinary how sassy his hippie princess could get. Perhaps he was the one who’d turned her that way. There was no more Mrs. Nice Girl when it came to his well-being.
She’d taken the same route with Jed and her parents, no longer letting them take advantage of her.
Tough love was her new attitude, often even resorting to blackmail.
Though Lost Souls didn’t have the income it had, Bec was still giving her family money, and she’d threatened to cut them off if Marshall and Jed didn’t attend AA meetings.
She’d even sit through the meetings with them, making sure they participated.
Indeed, although they were attending the meetings, Otis doubted the two men were actually sober.
Apropos Olivia, Bec was constantly bickering with her, telling her that she had to learn to stand up for herself.
Most of these details Otis learned from afar, as he avoided the Marshall family as much as he could. He had his own command from Bec anyway: Learn how to play.
It wasn’t always video games. They’d already set up Cam’s pretend winery, attempted and failed to solve a Rubik’s Cube, played tag and hide-and-go-seek ad nauseum, and thrown the football and Frisbee till Otis had torn a muscle in his shoulder.
When Otis was finally eaten in the game, he widened his eyes and said, “Now who else can I chomp?”
“Not me!” Cam yelled, running toward his dad, tackling him.
Mike followed suit, leaping into the air and landing right on Otis’s stomach. “Oh, God, boy, you weigh too much these days.”
Neither of them let up, attacking Otis from all angles, poking him in the side, trying to tickle him under the armpits.
“Is this fair? Teaming up on me? Don’t make me unleash Pac-Man.”
Cam and Mike laughed but continued their onslaught.
“Okay, that’s it. Turbo mode coming right up. Chomp, chomp, chomp.” The boys clung to him as he stood and shook them off and chased them out of the room.
Rebecca stood in the hallway, a smile dancing on her lips. Otis realized the width of his own smile, patted her on the bottom, then yelled after Mike: “Make way for Daddy Pac-Man!”
During this short hour every day he let go of his worries about their lack of money or the work ahead.
For the first time in his life, he was truly connecting with his boys.
Maybe Rebecca was right again. Of course she was.
She was always flipping right, and he felt grateful to her, but he had a hard time saying it.
The bell rang again in the afternoon on Saturday.
Bec had said she didn’t want him to work on the weekends.
He found that as funny as a skit he’d seen on SNL a week earlier.
Till that impossible day came, they’d settled on him taking off Saturday afternoons to visit L&N Donut Shop, the place where Otis had first met the wine legend August Sebastiani, who had always kindly shared his wisdom over the years.
It was a scorcher outside, almost ninety degrees. Otis could only imagine how early he’d have to pick this year, if things didn’t settle down.
As they pulled up to L&N, Cam said, “Oh, crap. That’s Melanie.”
Three young girls with bows in their hair stood in the long line, giggling.
“Shall we buy their doughnuts?” Otis asked.
“I’m not getting out of the car.”
Otis turned to the back seat of their station wagon, a purchase made right before the fall of the Till empire.
That’s what he called it. They had some cash on hand, but the bleak future promised headwinds.
No sprinkles or any other extra toppings today, that was for sure.
The only exception would be a small scoop for Cam’s potential love interest.
“So you like her?” Otis asked. “It’s the first I’ve heard her—”
“He mentioned her the other day,” Bec said, reminding him of his absentmindedness. “He met her at Isaac’s birthday party. She’s the one in red.”
“Ah, yes.” Was it him or was everything she said coated in a thin film of condescension? Either way, she did a great job of socializing the kids to counteract the homeschooling.
Little troublemaker that he was, Mike rolled down the window and called, “Oh, Melanie, Cam’s in love with—”
Otis turned in time to see Cam punch his younger brother in the gut. Mike started crying, as Cam yelled, “The bloody wanker asked for it!”
“Cam!” Bec said, whipping her head around. “Watch your mouth!” Then she set angry eyes on Otis.
“What? I didn’t teach him that.”
“Who else would teach him to say bloody wanker ?” She cracked a smile. Otis smiled back, then did something that he thought might surprise her.
He got out of the car and climbed into the back. Both boys looked at him with wide eyes, the toes of their bare feet clenched. He’d never sat in the back seat before. Though he wasn’t one for spanking his children like his own father, Cam and Mike looked at him like he might strike.
“What this is, gentlemen,” Otis said, “is the start of your experience with women. It’s a long, hard road of joy and pain, but this is why I’m here, your dutiful parental coach.”
Bec let out a laugh. “Oh, you’re going to teach them about women?”
“Naturally.”
“Hopefully not about the birds and the bees.”
“What about the birds and the bees?” Mike asked, his newly missing front tooth causing him to slur his words.
“Nope, we’re not going there,” Bec said.
He put an arm around Cam. “I wasn’t going there. What I thought I might bestow on them was a bit of my hard-earned wisdom from my years chasing women.”
Rebecca pressed a palm to her forehead. “Boys, don’t listen to a thing he says. He’s never chased a woman in his life.”
Otis eyed her in the rearview mirror. “Let’s pause for a moment and consider the fact that I did land the finest catch in the ocean. I might have been rough around the edges, but there is no denying my skills.” Otis winked at the boys.
Mike let out a giggle.
“Here’s the thing. That Melanie over there, she might not act like it, but she wants you to say hi to her. To make conversation.”
Cam shook his head sternly.
Otis pulled his arm away and smoothed his hands together. “Hear me out. You, too, Mike. Your time will come soon enough. If you master this now, you won’t have trouble the rest of your life.”
“This is rich,” Bec said, shining the way she did whenever Otis gave the boys his all.
“Never mind her. Cam, I want you to go out there and strut your stuff and say, ‘How’s it going, Melanie?’ Or can we call her Mel?”
“No,” Cam said. “I’m not getting out of this car till they’re gone.”
“I’ll go with you.” Otis put a hand on the door handle.
Cam knocked it away.
“Fine, she’s all yours. Tell her you like her shoes. Then maybe ask about the weather.”
“The weather ?” Bec said. “You’re so lucky that I found you charming.”
“In addition to handsome, sharp, quick-witted. Talk about a catch, boys.” Otis jabbed his own thumb at his chest. “Back in the day, every chick on the block would turn my way.”
Rebecca let her head fall.
Otis whipped out his wallet. “Ten bucks in your pocket if you go out there and say hello to her. Yeah, you heard me?”
Otis got out first. As Cam stood, he looked over to the three girls, who were now ordering. The push and pull of tween emotions showed in Cam’s eyes. He took a step forward, then stopped. “I can’t.”
“ Bwaak, bwaak, ” called Mike, giving a solid chicken impersonation.
Otis held up a hand. “Michael, give the young man time.” To Cam, he said, “You can do it. Believe in yourself.”
After a few more long seconds, Cam’s bravado won out, and he started their way.
Otis stood proudly, his arms crossed. Mike climbed into the front seat to get a better look through the windshield. Otis heard a Brahms piano concerto in his head. This was the moment of truth, a man facing his greatest fear.
Cam walked with guarded hesitation, but as he drew near, he raised his hand into a subtle wave, said hello, and then started a conversation.
Otis quietly clapped his hands. He bent down to look at Mike. “You see that! That’s courage, Mikey.”
Cam gave a slight glance back to his family.
Otis couldn’t help it and raised his arms in the air. “My boy,” he said. Then he leaned down again and peered at Bec. “They have their father’s charm, don’t they?”
If only Bedwetter hadn’t gone after Otis, he might have been fine for the rest of ’83.
He might have been okay returning to ramen noodles and hot dogs for a while, though he did miss the mushy peas of his childhood.
He might have even started using ketchup.
But something about Bedwetter and his writing jammed a screwdriver in Otis’s eye.
Of course it had to be over the phylloxera debacle. Bedwetter had done an entire article discussing how phylloxera had taken over California, and he’d zeroed in on Otis, mentioning his name for the first time.