Christopher Sorrentino - Trance

But then came the habit of the closet. A routine that was irresistible, a cocooning, and when her chance to exit first arrived, on the day when she had sat in the VW van, sweating just like this and waiting for Teko and Yolanda to return from Mel’s, she realized that she couldn’t because for the first time in her life she had achieved the habit of novelty, every day, with Cujo — with all of them, really. So she’d picked up the machine gun and fired, pow! to maintain unobstructed the steady flow of the untried. Of course, if the theft of the socks/bandolier hadn’t been enough in itself, that act had sealed Cujo’s fate. But even the grief was new, as transfiguring as anything she’d ever endured. And was it her fault? She’d spent a lot of time working on that one, idly, picking the problem apart and studying it.

It was Teko who’d left the van illegally parked so that it was ticketed,

Teko who’d gotten caught stealing,

Who’d dropped the gun Yolanda had registered in her real name,

Yea, and it was Teko who’d left the parking ticket in the van when they ditched it.

She’d decided finally that wherever the blame lay, she didn’t regret firing that gun. Pow! into the new; pow! into the forefront of things; pow! into the unknown.

They huddle, is the only word for it, around the radio, draw close to one another from opposite ends of the big room and then stand gaping at the device. Twelve days after the House Judiciary Committee votes to adopt the First Article of Impeachment, three days after the president (another self-incriminating packrat) releases the transcripts of what will become known as the smoking gun tape, inducing eleven Republican members of the committee who voted against impeachment to announce that they will change their votes, the [expletive deleted]himself is on the air to offer up a farewell to the nation.

“To continue to fight through the months ahead for my personal vindication would almost totally absorb the time and attention of both the President and the Congress in a period when our entire focus should be on the great issues of peace abroad and prosperity without inflation at home,” he says, “Therefore.”

There is a lengthy pause, and each of them leans forward, straining to hear. When the voice resumes, falteringly, it doesn’t even attempt to conceal its bitterness and unfocused loathing: “I shall resign the Presidency effective at noon tomorrow. Vice President Ford will—”

They whoop, leap into the air.

Teko hugs Yolanda.

Yolanda hugs Tania.

Tania hugs Joan.

“Ding dong,” cries Teko, “the witch is dead!”

Now what?

The group has taken to traveling to the nearby town of Youngsville for occasional recreation, usually ending up at the One-Step, a tavern where they drink cheap pitchers of draft beer and play shuffleboard and pool at coin-op tables. On one outing Teko is standing at the bar waiting for the bartender to pull his beer when he eavesdrops on a nearby conversation.

“I find it completely unacceptable,” says the man.

“So you’ll call the agency when we get back to the city.” The woman tends to her two small children, who sit dangle-legged on barstools, drinking Shirley Temples. “You want your cherry? Mommy wants your cherry if you don’t.”

“I could make an issue of this. Damages are involved.”

“What, damages? The car broke down. It happens. Don’t blow bubbles, Richard.”

“We didn’t put down a deposit?”

“So we’ll get there a little later.”

“What if we lose the room?”

“He says the Grossinger’s bus leaves in a half an hour.”

“I still can’t believe there isn’t a taxi in this town. What else do they have? Party lines? Outhouses?”

“Shhh.”

“I expect any minute now to hear the theme from Deliverance. ”

“Shhhhh!”

“This is why, you ask me why I never want to leave the city. This is why I never want to leave the city.”

“It’s ten miles. Don’t kick, Sylvie hon.”

Teko pays for the pitcher of beer and carries it into the back room. He puts it on the table.

“Ever hear of Grossinger’s?”

“What’s that ?” asks Tania.

“Big Jewish resort. Lots of rich doctors and whatnot, coming up from the city. It’s just down the road, it turns out.”

“So?” asks Yolanda.

“So? So, purses and wallets left by the pool. Room keys. We could clean up in one afternoon.”

Cash is an issue, again.

“There’s a bus,” Teko continues. “I’ll take it up and see what there is to see.”

“Funny,” says Joan, “you don’t look Jewish.”

“We can work around that. I’ll bring Tania with me. We’ll blend in.”

“Aww,” says Yolanda.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea for the two commanders to accompany each other on a dangerous mission,” he explains.

“Don’t be an idiot,” says Yolanda. Turns out she’s not objecting, just giving him necessary advice.

The bus is nearly empty, with Teko, Tania, and the aggrieved householder and his family from New York the only passengers. They disembark at the Ferndale depot, where several cabs await to take passengers on the last leg of the trip to the famous resort. Teko is digging in his pocket to count his change when they are approached by a middle-aged man who seizes Teko by the wrist.

“Joshua.”

“Excuse me?”

“Joshua. As in, Joshua and Beth, the new staff. Right? Your mother called to tell me that you would be taking the later bus. I had just about given up on you but for your mother’s sake I decided to wait, and here you are. Well, come on. We are very shorthanded and there’s no time to waste. If we hurry you can start helping get the Pink Elephant ready for the first dinner service.”

“The Pink Elephant?”

“You’re a restaurant critic? The ambience falls short in your opinion? Look, the way business is, we’d serve dinner in the parking lot if that’s what the customers wanted. People want to drink, eat, and see a show all at once.”

“OK.”

“So what are you waiting for?” He pulls a little, and Teko takes a step forward. The man keeps his grip on Teko’s arm until they arrive at a big Chrysler. He turns. “Beth, what are you waiting for?” Well, cheaper than a cab. The man unlocks the door, and they get in. On the backseat are cardboard boxes full of grass skirts, garlands of paper flowers, plastic tiki figurines, and paper umbrellas.

“Don’t ask. All right, go ahead. What it is, we’ve discovered that our target customer is on account of lowered airfares and more frequent departures heading for Hawaii. I don’t see the big thing, personally, but the place has a certain charisma right now that you can’t deny. We keep hearing about clean beaches, pleasant weather, warm buoyant water, half-naked women, and breathtaking natural scenery. It has all the earmarks of a total fad, but as a trend it is bleeding us dry. So we thought we’d institute a Hawaiian Night. Kosher luaus and fruity drinks out of fishbowls. I know a girl who’s half Puerto Rican and half Chinese and does exotic dancing who I figure she can give a few hula lessons to interested parties. Worth a shot, right?”

The car enters the grounds of the resort, rolling up a long wooded drive toward the main cluster of buildings.

“Now, Joshua, we’ll start you in the kitchen. You’ve done prep work — chopping, peeling? No? There’s nothing to it. But Beth, honey.” He grabs her knee. “You, you I’m putting out on the floor.” He gives a little squeeze. “Now,” he says briskly, “we got to get some uniforms on you. There’s not a minute to waste. You can just leave your bags in my car for now.” Tania casts a sidelong glance at Teko. Apparently their host hasn’t noticed that they carry nothing with them.