Caligula and Caesar's American Adventure

Didn't I Tell You? (Cae)

Cali keeps saying I’m still high but I had, like, eight hours sleep, but she won’t let me drive anyway. Like she didn’t give it a whirl. Either way, she’s driving through Connecticut and I’m lying in the back, crashing against the wall every time she turns a corner.

Cali: “Put your fucking seatbelt on, Cae. You’re gonna die back there.”

Me: “Chill, Cali. Drive better.”

Cali: “See? That’s how I know you’re still stoned.”

Me: “Huh?”

Cali: “You don’t give a shit that I’m driving like a fucking nutter and you’re just rolling round in the trunk.”

Me: “Stop then and I’ll come up front.”

And then Cali slams on the brakes and I fucking smash into the back of the seat. I ask her to let me drive but she laughs like a hyena. Apparently I’m off my head so in protest, I light up a joint and close my eyes. Cali then has a go at me in case the police pull us over. I tell her to loosen up and my phone rings, somewhere in the distance.

Cali: “Answer the fucking phone, moron.”

But I can’t find it. “Where is it?”

“Jesus Christ,” she says. “You’re fucking holding it. My God you’re stoned.”

I don’t think Cali appreciates how much a good puff on a spliff would help her relax a bit. All the more for me. Oh, it’s my mum on the phone, by the way.

Mum: “Caesar, baby, hi sweetie.”

Me: “Hi, Mum.”

Cali: “Hi Mrs Kaiser!”

Oh, did I not mention? Yeah, my fucking name is Caesar Kaiser. I used to be glad my middle name was Julia, until I learnt about that fucking Julius Caesar dude. As you can tell, Mum was probably high when she named me, and I bet she’d just watched some fucking documentary. Why not at least Julia Caesar? Fuck it. And fuck knows why Dad didn’t intervene. He just kind of … lets Mum do her thing.

Mum: “Oh, is that dear Iggy? Send her my love, would you?”

Mum is the only person who can get away with that – even Cali’s own parents can’t call her anything but Cali or Caligula.

Me: “Iggy, my sweet, my dear mother sends you her love.”

Cali shouts that she loves my mum too and shoots daggers at me for calling her Iggy. Mum apologises for not ringing yesterday.

“How was your flight, darling?”

She only calls me darling when she’s off her head.

“Fine, mother dear.” I only call her that when I’m off mine. She fills me in on the goings-on around the house – my four younger siblings, ranging from ten to sixteen, all live at home, the poor things. The place is a fucking menagerie.

Cali: “Why’s she ringing? It’ll be costing a fortune?”

Me: “Isn’t this costing a bloody fortune?”

Mum: “Oh, I don’t know. I’m sure your father will tell me when he gets the bill. I wanted to send you something, darling. Do you have an address?”

Cali: “My uncle has a place in Maine. We’ll get there eventually.” {She can hear the whole conversation. I must’ve put it on speakerphone.}

Mum: “Oh, hello Iggy dear.”

Cali: “Hi. Again. Jeez, Mrs K. What time is it over in wotsit land?”

Mum: “It must be six by now. I watched the sun rise, it was so beautiful.”

Cali: “Jesus, you’re high as a kite. Don’t you have, like, other children to look after?”

She doesn’t hear. I give Cali the phone to give Mum the address for her uncle’s house and she rattles it out really fast. Mum has to have subtitles for American programmes so I doubt she got it. Cali ends the call and rolls down the window, wafting my smoke out. She’s kinda uptight about it for someone with such loose morals. I offer it to her and she pushes my hand away.

“No way am I smoking a joint while I’m driving.”

“But you’re no fun.”

“Quit your bitching and put it out before I get pulled over, douche.”

And oh my God, that’s when I learn the seats go back. Holy fuck, I can lie down in the fucking seat! So I put on my sunnies and smoke the spliff to the bitter end until the camper is moving more than just forwards. I don’t even know how long I lie there for but Cali screeches to a halt and I hit my head on the side.

“We’re here,” she shouts, far louder than necessary. I tell her to be quiet and she, apparently, has told me eight times already. I think, being the drama queen she is, she’s exaggerating. The van is a haze of smoke and she’s waving it away. I tell her to inhale it. She slaps me.