The Gum Thief - Douglas Coupland [70]
Roger
PS: By the way, Diana certainly never visited me at Staples. If you ever want to remove an actor from your life, simply tell them they can’t act. Poof! They’ll be gone, trust me.
Glove Pond
It felt like a month had passed since Kyle and Brittany had arrived for dinner at the charming and gracious home of Steve and Gloria. The young couple no longer felt like the people they were when they arrived.
“What college does Kendall go to?” Brittany asked.
“Harvard,” said Steve.
Gloria turned and almost spat at him. “I wanted him to go to Yale.”
“If you like Yale so much, Gloria, then tell me, what city is Yale located in?”
Gloria froze. “That’s dirty pool. Nobody knows what city Yale’s located in. It’s its own place. It doesn’t need a city.”
“All you had to say was New Haven.”
“I knew that. Not telling you the name of the city was my way of telling you how important I think Yale is.”
A gleam came to Steve’s eyes. “Out of curiosity, Gloria, do you know the name of the city where Harvard is located?”
“Don’t be silly.”
“Where, then?”
“Harvard is Harvard.” She paused. “Why, we visited Kendall there a few weeks ago. Don’t you remember? We dropped off snacks and a box full of domestic comforts.”
The word “Kendall” brought Steve back to what passed for reality in the dining room. “Of course we did.” Steve looked at Kyle and Brittany. “Kendall is an excellent student. We visit him regularly.”
Kyle asked, “Are you sure you don’t have any photos of Kendall?—Snapshots? JPEGs? Polaroids? High school yearbooks?”
“No,” said Steve.
“Really?”
“None.”
“They’re all out being cleaned,” said Gloria.
“Oh come on,” said Kyle. “You have to have photos somewhere.”
“No,” Steve said. “It’s the latest thing—sending your photos out to be cleaned. Not only do they come back looking like new, but they’re also arranged neatly in stylish new photo binders.”
“That’s ridiculous,” said Kyle. “There has to be something here somewhere.”
“Say,” said Steve. “You know what we do have is a large selection of Kendall’s toys. We can show you those.”
“Why would I want to look at toys?” Kyle asked.
“Don’t move,” said Gloria. “I’ll be right back.”
“Really, Gloria—you don’t have to . . .”
But Gloria scurried away to the basement, and Steve was hearty. “Kendall was a good child. He loved his toys. Scotch?”
Kyle looked at Brittany, who appeared far away. “Brit?”
“Oh—sorry. I was looking at the clock over there.”
“Wretched things, clocks,” said Steve. “Give me an hourglass or a sundial any day of the week.”
From the basement came rattling noises, and Steve poured more Scotch for Kyle. He then looked at Brittany. “So tell me, how is life different with makeup covering your face all the time?”
“This?” Brittany put her hand to her cheek, massaged the tissue and looked at the resulting kabuki ovals on her fingertips. “I think I’m over makeup now,” she said. “It protected me for a while, but it’s like a magic spell. Once you lose faith in it, it’s merely more junk in life.”
Kyle gulped his Scotch.
Silence made Gloria’s rattling in the basement more menacing. Steve said, “What’s a JPEG? You used that word a few minutes back.”
“A JPEG?” said Kyle. “It’s an image you send around on computers.”
“Why is it called a JPEG?”
Brittany said, “It’s an acronym for Joint Photographics Experts Group.”
“ This pegs, that pegs—why can’t people be happy with a sepia-tinted daguerreotype? Ah, look, here comes Gloria with a comprehensive selection of young Kendall’s toys.”
From the basement’s portal—a door over towards the kitchen—came a dreadful drumming sound that became higher in pitch as Gloria neared the dining room. With small beads of sweat percolating through the pancaked cosmetic stratas atop her brow, she staggered through the doorway and dumped a pile of weatherworn plastic animals, pedal carts and miscellaneous outdoor toys. “There!” she said. “Kendall’s toys. He exists.”
Glove Pond:Brittany
Brittany decided not to tell