Chapter Eight
--June, 1999
Nirvana – “The Man Who Sold the World”
Just as school was ending for the summer, the senior trifecta of shafting me (Lynn, Kevin, and Janet) got together and decided that I was to get a summer job. Thus, I found myself being led by Lynn into the Hillcrest dining room. It was a decadent kind of place; velvet curtains pulled back from picture windows, the sun lighting up the mahogany details. I looked around as Lynn introduced me to Mr. Mayer, a tidy man in a burgundy suit with slicked back hair. He was Hillcrest’s General manager, the hirer and firer of the wait staff. I wanted to point out that I had no resume, let alone any previous employment to speak of, but something told me to keep quiet.
Mr. Mayer and his spray tan looked me over, dismally. “I guess I could find a place for him in the canteen for now...” It turned out that my Aunt “putting a word in” actually meant something. Little did I know that the wealthy have a habit of helping each other out.
Mr. Mayer, or Joseph, as he told me never to call him, then showed me the salmon-colored serving jacket I was expected to wear at all times on the job.
“Is this optional?” I asked, hopefully.
Mr. Mayer shared a dry laugh with Lynn. “You were right – he is funny.”
My new boss then introduced me to the canteen wait staff, three Mexicans who appeared to be the angriest people I had seen in my entire life. Mr. Mayer clapped me on the back in a bad opening salvo. “Hermanos, this is Taylor Benson – he’s going to be joining you for the next couple weeks.” I could feel that being Mayer’s lacky lost me any cool points I might have brought into this.
One of the Mexicans spit on the ground right in front of me. “Hey Mister Marrer, you say that when a position open up, my cousin could come in and take it...”
Mr. Mayer thought for a minute, then laughed, remembering. “I did say that, didn’t I?! Well, next time! Promise!”
And with that, he left me with them.
The three amigos gave me death stares, but gradually taught me how to fry shrimp, mozzarella sticks, and french fries. All without speaking. Or, at least, speaking English. They spoke Spanish throughout. I can’t be sure, but I think they even gave me a nickname: “puta-something.”
By the end of my first shift, I was bone tired and kicking myself that I didn’t ask when payday was. But I was glad to be employed. Whereas I had to beg Mom for enough money to go out to lunch, Dean’s friends seemed to have unlimited funds. I kept up as best I could, but usually came up short.
I went looking for Dean. He was supposed to be finishing up a doubles match against Hudson and his dad. When I reached the courts, they were deep in play, so I found a seat and watched.
It wasn’t long before Layla and her friends came around. The last time I had seen her, I was making everybody laugh by running around and tickling old people. Before she left, she gave me a great big hug. So clearly, we were on hugging terms.
As she approached, I got up and said, “hey buddy,” then went in for a hug. Immediately she froze up in my arms, saying “whoooaaa...”
Before I could explain myself, Stephanie asked me if I had “ever heard of personal space?” They laughed awkwardly as I stalked away.
I was furious. The moment I was out of view, I shook with rage. On the sandstone path that connected the tennis courts to the pool, I stomped the ground and punched the banana leaf palms that lined the trail.
I wish I knew why people didn’t like being around me. Was it my high nasally voice and bossy tone? The weird nose flicking thing I did? The horseshoe indent I had from grinding my teeth? “You look fine!” my mother would say. Was she blind?! All I ever wanted in life was to be grown up, but every time my voice cracked, I was reminded that I was just a kid. And it made me so mad...
I wasn’t meant to have nice things. I had too many rough edges. Belonging here meant hiding part of yourself. You had to become someone else. You had to make safe, round edges out of the sharp ones, and like glass in the ocean, eventually anyone would change.
As much as I wanted to identify with Uncle Nick, I was beginning to think that I had far more in common with Uncle Bill. He was just as alienated around his friends as I was. Neither of us was suited to living indoors. Every suspicious glance people gave us sent us deeper into the jungle. We were wild animals who might never truly belong. But maybe trying was what humanized us, what linked us to other people.
Reluctantly, I returned to the tennis courts, making sure to avoid the others. I watched as Dean slammed an overhand shot, acing Hudson’s dad. He and Kevin celebrated, but they weren’t the only ones...
From the stands, Layla whooped it up. “Yeah, Dean!” she called out through cupped hands. When he saw who said it, he went bright red.
I guess Hudson was a little jealous because when Dean refused his challenge of a rematch, we all made our way to the pool where Dean, Hudson, and Avi spent the better part of an hour in a brutal water polo competition, trying to get Layla’s attention. Just watching them fight over her made me exhausted.
After swimming a little, I got out and dried off next to Aunt Lynn. She was laughing politely with a man I had never seen before. He was smoking a cigar and was quite fat, the blonde stubble that used to be cute in youth now only accentuated his jowls. “Taylor, this is Mr. Tonche, can you say hi?” before I could respond, she motioned to me. “This is Janet’s son.”
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
Glen Tonche turned, his entire demeanor changed. “No way, far out! Janet’s got a kid!”
I stared at the guy as he shook my hand. “The Falcon!” I said, under my breath.
“What’s that?” He leaned forward, not quite hearing me.
“Nothing.” Well, whattaya know... some of the people in my mother’s stories made it out of there after all. But Glen Tonche didn’t look at all the way I had pictured. He was bloated and had an open Hawaiian shirt on, expensive basketweave loafers and madras pants.
The Falcon sighed, remembering the old times. “Your mother was really something. We were all in love with her.”
I nodded, not knowing what he wanted me to say to that. “So... how old are you now, Taylor?”
Lynn answered for me. “Fourteen.”
Tonche was emoting enough for the both of us. “Fourteen?! Well, that’s a great age!” I have since learned that what adults mean by this statement is not that their fourteenth year was anything special only that they’ve made a lot of mistakes in life and wish they could start again knowing what they know now and what the hell, why not start at fourteen?!
When Dean and his friends were finally exhausted, they dragged themselves from the pool. Layla wrapped a wet arm around her father. “Daddy? What’s our account number? I want to get some mozzarella sticks...”
“0-4-2-9, darling.” She was about to head for the canteen, but Glen held her back and pointed at me with his limoncello. “Me and this boy’s mom used to go together!”
Layla seemed just as disgusted as I was. “Great...” she mumbled, looking at me like I was something she’d accidentally stepped in. I felt like telling her father the truth, that his daughter was the kind of girl who could forget that she was huggers with someone after one day!
She headed for the snack bar and Glen watched her go. He grabbed Dean and Avi playfully, mob-boss style, by the back of their necks and pulled them down to him. “Want to talk to you fellas – you see that girl over there? That’s my daughter. Now, I’m not blind. I see guys sniffin’ around her. I know what you want!”
He gave them half-hearted noogies as I locked eyes with Lynn. She had the same appalled look on her face that I did. In that moment, I felt a surge of affection for my Aunt.
“But seriously, I know you guys are good kids. You’ll watch after her, right?” They nodded dumbly under his fleshly paws until he let them free. Now, such talk of “his daughter’s honor” should have been enough to send any of them running. But Glen Tonche went to Wharton, mostly on his father’s good name, and now spent his days asset stripping, not building anything just tearing it apart. He was rumored to be the richest person at the club, a billionaire or close to it, and Avi and Hudson wanted to know the secret to his success. They were always talking about their ivy league futures, so this was on brand for them.
Instead of market tips though, he just bloviated about his philanthropy towards the less-fortunate. Rich people are always giving to charities because they can’t imagine anything worse than being poor.
When Aurelio, one of the canteen waiters I had met earlier, brought Layla’s order over, Mr. Tonche over-tipped, making a point to tell the boys, “that’s more money than he’ll see in a week. We must remember the power we have to change people’s lives...” I wondered how one person could become so delusional. Maybe you lost your mind just a little bit when you became rich. I knew from personal experience that it got worse when it was taken away.
I had had about all I could stand when the patio gate opened and Mom entered to pick me up. Upon seeing her, Glen Tonche dropped the food on his plate and made a big show of getting to his feet to greet Janet. She smiled at the attention and let Glen dance her around the patio for a few steps.
Was this... how old people flirted?
He paused to whisper something illicit in her ear and she wacked him gently on the arm, calling him a “silver-tongued devil.” If there weren’t people around, I would have vomited on the spot. He was a walking reminder that this kind of behavior got rewarded all the time. And that my mother was still susceptible to this world. I watched in horror as Glen Tonche reached down and patted her ass.
**
It took me dragging Mom out of there to get her to leave. As we pulled out of Hillcrest’s front gate however, I couldn’t keep my mouth shut any longer. “I cannot believe you dated that man – he’s such a cheeseball!”
“Well, that cheeseball is worth $1.2 billion.”
“Too bad you can’t buy class,” I mumbled.
Mom opened her mouth to respond but thought better of it. Instead, she just focused on her breathing. Every time she was stressed, she had a habit of regressing into her Lamaze exercises. When she was finally calm enough to speak again, she explained, “Taylor, in this life you’ll often find that the ones that work so hard at it find it hard to come by, but the ones who take it for granted get it handed to them.”
Well, that shut me right up.
When we arrived home, Mom made another one of her healthy dinners. Jesse stared crestfallen at the boiled chicken and asparagus. I knew how she felt.
As she often did after such a rich dinner, Mom fell asleep on the couch sitting straight up. A bowl of sugar-free sorbet was balanced atop her belly, rising and falling with her snoring. Looking at her now, I wondered what she wanted to be when she grew up. Was her dream always to be an actress? Because it couldn’t have been this. I remember her saying once that she started a painting company with two of her closest friends. Was that it? Or was that just one of a hundred dreams?
She must have sensed that I was staring because she opened one of her eyes. “Why weren’t you talking to the other kids?”
“What?” She often asked questions that came out of the blue.
“On the patio. Why weren’t you talking to Dean’s friends?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know... we just don’t have anything in common...” How could I tell her that I felt eternally out of place? That I didn’t fit in with kids my own age but was too young to hang out with anyone older.
Janet groaned. “Why, because they don’t watch thirteen hours of television a day? I’m serious, Taylor. I’m worried about you.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“You romanticize being depressed! You’re dead set on not enjoying yourself!”
“Why am I expected to get along with them? Why aren’t they expected to get along with me, huh?”
“Because there are more of them! Why do you always see the worst in people?!”
“So I’m never surprised when they do the terrible things that they do!” I didn’t even know I felt that way, but I must have meant it because I screamed it.
Mom stood up, collecting her ice cream bowl. “You know Taylor, life has a funny way of giving you what you ask for. So, if you keep thinking only bad things are coming to you, then they probably will.”
She headed into the kitchen. I wanted to tell her she was wrong, that I wasn’t happy being unhappy. But there was a small part of me that thought she might be right.
I decided to call it a night. On my way upstairs though, I saw Jesse sitting by herself, ignored by both Mom and me. She seemed so alone. It reminded me that I had a leftover candy bar from my shift at the canteen. I fished it out of my hoodie and handed it to her. She took it, gratefully. I turned to go only to find her hugging me from behind like a backpack.
It made me smile.