Little Baby Faulkner

10

We arrive at Baker's house—her parents' house—where I always used to pick Baker up with a handbag full of extra panties for their daughter to take over to my house. Memories of her mom packing extra undies for her daughter, us all knowing what was about to happen (apparently)—Baker getting to my house and we throw down and skrog (which is some term invented by my old friend Chad meant to say: to fuck with animal intent and abandon)—don't you just want sometimes, to throw down and skrog? Baker and I actually fucked like this, reaching upwards, begging for each other's genitals, clawing them, raking them with fingernails, teeth, skin.

Baker grabs my arm and brings me inside their house. Everything looks like it is untouched from years ago. I mean: seven years I've been coming here, of cleaning and living, arranging the same books and knickknacks in the exact same way. Lift it up, wipe underneath a statuette's profile, shadow, then replacing the object—clean?—yes!—done!!

Charisma pulls me inside and Mary and Manny erupt with greetings for me. It's like everything my (now divorced) parents could have said to me if they gave a shit: that I was welcome and loved—for starts.

Mary is standing right in front of me and she says: "Look at you!" She hugs me tightly and Baker is all: "Mom! Let him breathe! Get off!! Mary! You're acting like as if he was your boyfriend!"

"Oh, so you two is now a boyfriend and a girlfriend? Baker! You have to tell me about these blips in your relationship history."

"We ain't boyfriend and girlfriend!" Baker shouts.

"Yeah, Baker will never have me," I say. "She's too into paramilitary guys, like this Rambuncto. She'll marry someone like him and I'll be across the country living alone in an urban hut in Hollywood."

"Did I tell you?" Charisma says. "That Matthew is in film school?"

"Is this true?" Mary asks.

Then Manny is like: "Y'all, I can't see the television."

Charisma goes to him, grabs the remote, throws it through the door to the kitchen.

"Get your own remote! I've got a friend over! How many people do I bring for you to see? Huh? Mom: put Manny in his place when he gets out of line. These nature documentaries and space programs are ruining your brains for sensible urban living!"

"We don't be watchin' no nature show. No astrophysics here, neither."

"I know that,"'Charisma says. "Maybe you should."

Mary goes back to her chair.

I go to Manny and shake his hand. "Good to see you, sir."

"Good to see you, too. Do you have a few minutes? I can show you my new paintings."

Charisma grabs a book off the shelf and throws it across the room at her uncle.

"No," she says. "I haven't got to see Matthew all day and you two isn't going to spend the remainder of his day taking even more time from me and him. Matt: you can go upstairs and I'll meet you in a few minutes."

"Ok. Good to see you two. I hope you have a good night."

Charisma stands facing me, blinking her eyes in a flurry. I take her hand and kiss it, then I'm bounding up the stairs two and three at a time, throwing my bag on the floor of the bedroom toward the front of the house—Charisma's old room—and I'm taking the vial from off my neck and rummaging through a milk crate for a mirror—something—before finding a copy of Stephen King's IT laid flat on the front of a bookshelf. I'm pouring out and setting up, retrieving my debit card and smoothing out the coke, cutting off the first few lines for me and Bakerton—taking the first for myself and leaving the next two for Charisma and I.