Sushi Central Page 18

  227

  Mykal: … and she almost would have gone home with him again, just, like, out of boredom, but she came to her senses and thought, you know, it’s not worth it.

  I have been at the fridge in the corner getting myself one of those energy drinks — the ones that taste green and have about six billion units of caffeine in them — and I come back to the counter just in time to catch the tail end of this particular conversation.

  Jamie: Totally. The guy was a sleaze.

  Margot takes a plate of California rolls from the sushi train. Mykal turns to look at me.

  Mykal: So Calvin, are you still seeing that guy? What was his name …?

  Oh yeah. Sorry Mykal. Like, you totally wouldn’t remember.

  Me: Anthony. And yeah, I am. I’m seeing him tonight.

  Mykal: Oh, cool. How’s that working out?

  Me: Pretty well.

  228

  The conversation drags on for about half an hour longer, mostly about uninteresting stuff. As we’re standing outside and we’re all about to go our separate ways, I realise something that really bothers me.

  I’m looking at Mykal and Jamie. They’re standing very close; every now and then one will look across at the other and they will smile, both of them. In spite of their tough/sarcastic exteriors, you can tell that they really … you know … like one another. They’ve both been sluts in the past and they’re probably still sluts, but they probably will be together this time next month/year. Mykal and Jamie have the closest thing to a functional relationship I’ve seen in a long time. That really gets to me.

  229

  Margot and I walk to the Valley after that. We’re making small talk about music — which member of the Strokes is the most attractive, that kind of stuff — and this new French movie that’s just come out and the government are trying to ban, and, you know, the usual boring stuff, and that’s when I get the urge to tell her about Anthony. Like, maybe if I talk about this with another person then that will make it real. I don’t know. But anyway:

  230

  Me: I saw these … photos of him.

  Margot: Where?

  Me: On the net.

  Margot: On the net? Doing what?

  Me: Well, like, what do people … What are young guys usually doing when photos of them show up on the net?

  Margot: Nofuckingway … Are you serious?

  Me: Yeah. Totally.

  Margot: And you’re … Going out with this person?

  Me: I don’t know if we’re going out or not. It’s weird.

  Margot: Okay, yeah, but my point remains. You’re, like, seeing this person … this porn person. From the net.

  Me: I guess.

  Margot: How … I mean, what were they like?

  Me: The photos?

  Margot: Yeah.

  Me: I don’t know. Just Anthony and this other guy.

  Margot: Doing … ?

  Me: You know.

  Margot: Oh wow. I mean … Isn’t it weird?

  Me: What weird?

  Margot: Going out with him … After you’ve seen him … Like …

  Me: Not really.

  Margot: I mean, you don’t know how many other people have seen these photos. It could be hundreds. Thousands.

  Me: I didn’t know it was him at first. I mean, I met him at that party and I wasn’t really sure, but I …

  Margot: It’s weird, isn’t it?

  Me: Me seeing him?

  Margot: No, the whole situation. I mean, you think of … You see photos on the internet or wherever. Sex photos, and you never think of those people as being real, do you? I mean, you don’t think of them as existing in any context outside of, you know, the photos, I guess.

  Me: That’s what I thought.

  Margot: It’s so weird. I mean, to think that the people in porn have lives outside of it. That they’re just, you know, normal people. Walking around.

  Me: It’s the age of the internet. Anyone can be a porn star.

  Margot: I guess.

  Margot laughs. Leans across to tickle my cheek.

  Margot: You could be a porn star.

  I hesitate.

  Me: No way.

  Margot: You could. You totally could. Calvin the porn star! Calvin the double penetration slut!

  Margot’s laughing very hard now.

  Me: Stop it. Come on, seriously, it’s not fucking funny.

  Margot: Ahh, you’re sensitive Calvin. I wouldn’t get so upset. Hell. I think I’d make a great porn star.

  Me: The best.

  Margot: Thanks.

  Me: Anytime.

  Margot: … So what’s he like?

  Me: Anthony?

  Margot: Yeah.

  Me: … I don’t know.

  Margot: You don’t know?

  Me: Not really. He hasn’t told me anything about himself. He doesn’t give anything away. It’s hard to even know who he is. Whenever we’re together, all we do is …

  I freeze, because in this context, I suddenly find it impossible to say the word ‘fuck’. I don’t know why. Weird.

  Me: I mean, it’s like we’ve only known each other one night. Still. It’s like he doesn’t want to get more involved than that.

  Margot: Doesn’t that bother you?

  Me: Yeah, but what am I supposed to do about it?

  Margot: Fuck.

  Me: Exactly.

  Margot: … Porno.

  Me: Totally.

  231

  Words: There is no word for Anthony. He’s a gap in the English language. Margot picked ‘porn star’ because that’s the most convenient reference point, but it doesn’t really describe him. Anthony is just a screwed-up teenage guy who let himself be photographed with other screwed-up teenage guys. I guess his situation is not really unique. But there’s no word to describe it. And if it can’t be described, then how can it be understood, or tied down?

  232

  I’m meeting Anthony in front of Ric’s Cafe at nine-thirty. He’s ten minutes late. I’ve been standing here for a long time; I suddenly get the feeling that he might be approaching, just a feeling, so I turn around, but instead the person coming towards me is a boy/girl with long black hair and too much make-up, wearing one of those ‘Fuck Me I’m Famous’ shirts, and he/she, seeing the look on my face, sashays up to me swinging his/her hips and kind of sizes me up for a second before he/she says something I can’t make out, and when I fail to respond, he/she blows smoke in my face and then walks off. It’s the Valley. You know. Whatever.

  Anthony arrives fifteen minutes late, and he doesn’t apologise, but I don’t care. As usual he is the very definition of ‘young and hot’ and as usual he is completely blank. We kiss once. Hard. We’re getting looks from the people around us but I don’t care. I don’t really know if I care about anything at all except for Anthony.

  233

  We’re at The Beat again. Sitting out on the terrace. It’s dark and noisy and there are lots of guys around us, and one of the bartenders was checking Anthony out before and Anthony didn’t respond, didn’t seem to care, which I took to be a good sign, except for the fact that Anthony doesn’t seem to care about anything tonight. He’s kind of, I don’t know, out of it or whatever. He’s slumped on his chair with a vodka tonic in front of him. He’s not really drinking it. He’s not really making eye contact with me.

  I’m drunk already. I can feel the pull from the music inside.

  female voice: love you/love you/love you/love you

  I want to go in there and dance. Not even dance. I just want to stand on the dance floor and feel the people in there moving around me. Absorb some of their heat, or energy, or, like, youthful abandon or whatever. Try and feel more … alive.

  I look directly at Anthony. He seems to be staring off into space.

  Me: You want to go in and dance?

  Anthony: Not really.

  Me: Come on, why not?

  Anthony: Fucking … I don’t know. I just don’t. Get over it.

 
; Me: What do you want to do?

  Anthony: I don’t know.

  He pauses, for effect or whatever. I know what’s coming.

  Anthony: I wish we had some weed.

  Me: I guess.

  Anthony: I have some at my house.

  I know what this means by now. Anthony’s ‘I have some at my house’ generally means ‘I’m bored and I want to fuck you and I know you’re going to let me so why bother with the pretence?’.

  234

  My reaction is divided. Anthony knows he can have me whenever he wants me. Part of me resents that. Part of me doesn’t care. Fuck it. He’s really hot.

  Me: Okay. Your house.

  Anthony: Good.

  Good. That kills me. Oh well. Whatever. Porno.

  235

  Cut to Anthony’s house. Living room. I am lying on the couch — white, expensive, impeccable — and he is sitting on the floor nearby, holding the control pad and staring up at the tv. The room is dark except for the glow of the screen, which casts this ghostly kind of light on Anthony’s face as he stares up at it. The central character of the game is a skater — he’s tall, with short darkish hair and this blank but weirdly inviting look on his face. Actually very realistic looking. I’d fuck him; if he were a real person I mean. You know. Basically, the idea is to manoeuvre him around a series of jumps, sliding down these rails and staircases, and, well, you probably understand. It’s pointless but compelling. The way a lot of things are.

  Anthony’s arms and his body move every now and then; occasionally, if he makes a mistake or the character falls off his board, a small spasm will run through him and he’ll grimace a little, but his eyes remain still, focused on the screen. Anthony watches the skater and I watch Anthony and we’re both sort of drifting, I think, and it stays this way for an indeterminate length of time.

  Finally, he speaks.

  ‘Do you want to pretend we’re not ourselves any more?’ ‘What?’ I ask him.

  He doesn’t look up from the screen. ‘Do you want to pretend we’re not ourselves? Like, we’re both different people, or we’re not even people any more? Like we’re characters in a movie or this game or something.’

  I don’t know what this means. It gives me a feeling of unease. I wish he’d look at me but he doesn’t. He barely even moves.

  ‘Continue,’ I tell him.

  ‘What I mean is, wouldn’t you like it if we could strip away all the stuff that makes up ‘‘us’’? If we could just get rid of it, forget about it.’

  I sit up. ‘Are you aware of how stoned you sound?’

  ‘I guess. But do you understand me?’ His body shifts a little; the character on the screen is in the midst of an extremely complicated jump. Anthony remains focused on that for a second, and when it’s finished, he keeps talking. ‘Wouldn’t you be happier if you didn’t have to be you? Would you rather be ‘‘Calvin’’, as in, like, an accumulation of all the meaningless detail that makes up who you are, or would you rather just shed that stuff? Get rid of it?’ He still hasn’t looked away from the screen.

  I’m struggling to follow, but …

  He continues. ‘When we’re together, like, in bed, we wouldn’t have to be Tony and Calvin any more. We could just be, like, two bodies. I mean, if we could just forget who we are and lose ourselves in the moment, we wouldn’t have any kind of, like, guilt or conscience attached. We could go totally crazy on one another.’

  ‘Why would we …?’

  The character is advancing to the next level. Anthony keeps the control pad in one hand and rubs his eyes with the other. ‘It’s better. I think that’s the ultimate goal of, you know, sex. To forget who you are. Totally. To leave yourself behind. Because otherwise it can break you.’

  ‘What can?’

  The next level loads. He’s manoeuvring the skater around a more difficult course now. It’s this kind of wasteland, industrial desolation. Dead grass and concrete walls that are alive with graffiti, an overcast sky, random pieces of rusted metal jutting upwards at crazy angles, and all of it rendered in seamless polygon graphics.

  ‘It’s hard to explain,’ Anthony says.

  I’m silent.

  236

  Anthony: I realised it with the first guy I ever slept with. Back when I was fourteen and I was really really stoned, drunk, and just generally, like… I didn’t know him at all. I mean, it’s hard to explain. Not really that hard. I hadn’t been stoned much before and it was still kind of a new experience, you know. I’d been over at some girl’s house, I think she liked me, I don’t know, some private school girl I knew through one of my dad’s friends, and we were sitting in her room that afternoon and she kept sort of pressing up close to me, trying to kiss me or whatever, and I just totally wasn’t into it, and eventually she told me she had some pot, which seemed like a really big, exciting thing at the time, like something really bad, so we smoked it and suddenly I was all relaxed, and I just thought, okay, why not?

  The character on the screen falls off his skateboard. Anthony flinches, taps the control pad as he waits for the level to reload. The whole time, his eyes never leave the screen.

  Anthony: You know, it wasn’t bad, it was pretty good, but it felt kind of weird afterwards, you know, because it was my first time with a girl and I knew it was probably going to be the last. But then we smoked some more, a lot more, and it was pretty late so we went downstairs and she asked her mum if she could drop me off in the city, and I remember wondering if her mum could, like, smell it on us, smell weed or sex or whatever, or if she was, you know, wondering what had been going on, but she seemed distracted, or out of it maybe, or something, and she said sure, and we’re in her BMW and suddenly we’re in the city, and Francesca — that was the girl — sort of kisses me goodbye, and I’m there all by myself, and I don’t really feel like going home so I call my friends to see a movie or something and that’s when it happened. I was waiting in front of the Hilton, looking at the people who are walking past, waiting for my friends to show, still really stoned and feeling kind of jittery or whatever, you know, and anyway, there was a guy sitting at one of those cafes nearby, like an older guy, sitting by himself, and he was dressed in a suit, and I mean, it was a really nice suit, and I was just standing there waiting for my friends and he kept looking over at me, like he was cruising me or something, I mean, you know what it’s like, everyone’s had it happen, and I didn’t really look back at him, but I didn’t really move either, and the old guy kept looking over at me, and eventually, like by accident, we made eye contact, and he stared at me for a really long time, and I kept staring back and he kind of touched his wallet, which was sitting there on the table and I was just kind of lost in the look he was giving me and I couldn’t quite believe what was happening, like if it was real or I was imagining it, but …

  Suddenly he’s concentrating hard on the screen as the guy on the skateboard gets entangled in a difficult jump. He spins around, once, twice in the air, makes a perfect landing, keeps going. If Anthony’s pleased or impressed, or, like, moved at all by this, he doesn’t let on. His concentration on the screen is more intense than ever.

  Anthony: … but I wanted to go along with it just to see what would happen, so I kind of nodded at him, I mean, I don’t know if I nodded or not, but the next minute he’s motioning me over to the table, like he wants me to join him or something, so I went over there, sort of cautious, slow, and he’s looking at me the whole time and he’s not exactly smiling but he’s just sort of, like, hungry, and it’s a look I’d never seen on anyone’s face before, and I sit, and he doesn’t even move, just looks at me, and I don’t know whether to be scared or not, and he speaks and he has a foreign accent, German, I think, and he asks me my name, and I tell him Anthony — I mean, I could have lied, made something up, but at the time I couldn’t, I mean I didn’t know what was happening, I was so freaked out, confused, I didn’t have it in me to lie — and he asks me my interests, and I sort of rattle them off, I mean, I don’t remember
what I said, and he’s listening with this look on his face like he’s really interested in the things I like, then when I’m finished he asks me if I’d like to make some money, and I don’t know why I said it, I mean, I think a part of me just wanted to do it, wanted to know what it was like, what it felt like, because it seemed so dangerous, like, the most dangerous thing in the world, and if I did it I’d have something on everyone else, I’d have, like, done the ultimate, I’d have fucked someone, a guy — a man — because at the time that seemed like such a big deal, that I’d be capable of doing something like that, so I asked him how much money, and he told me four hundred dollars, and I thought, you know, I didn’t know what to think, and I asked him what I had to do and he said nothing you don’t want to, and I was so stoned it was kind of a blur after that, but he told me if I wanted to I could come up to his room with him, and I told him okay, because, well, I wanted to know what it would feel like, I really wanted to know, that was all at that stage, so I followed him, he stands up from the table, leaves, like, a fifty lying under the ashtray even though he’d only been drinking this one cup of coffee, and he doesn’t say anything, just walks towards the hotel, and I follow him, and we’re both in the elevator, and it’s cool in the airconditioning but I remember I’m feeling really hot all over, and it wasn’t just the pot any more, it was the feeling that this was really happening, that I couldn’t turn back, and that I liked it …

  He finishes the level, slumps back, breathes a sigh of relief. Then he looks up at me for about an eighth of a second. The expression on his face is indecipherable. I don’t say anything. The next level is in the process of loading, and Anthony turns back to the screen. I’m not sure what that moment was about. Was he sizing me up? Did he want to know what I thought? My mind is racing through the possibilities, but I’m too stunned to construct a rational opinion of anything at this point. His attention is on the screen again. The next level begins. He continues.