Indifference and Taylor's Car

It was like a music video or a commercial. Driving rock music faded
in. We were in Taylor's black Honda Accord. I was in the passenger
seat, Doug and Rachel were in the back seat, and Taylor was
driving.
Taylor's voice could be heard saying in a tone that was edged with
annoyance, which was surprising because he usually spoke in a bored,
uncommitted tone, "That place is beginning to bore me? I hope something
new opens so we can stop going there?"
We passed billboards along the highway as we headed back to suburbia.
One of them caught my attention longer than the rest. It was a jewelry
store advertisement or something, and the white words on a black
background burned into my mind.
The sign said, "I could sink here, forever and a day."
Those words echoed within me for some reason, and I understood why. My
life was so commonplace that I did feel as if I could just sink, and
never surface to anything different. Life was so typical, and
everything was repeated on a daily basis. I was and still am part of a
species that recreates its mistakes and triumphs like re-runs. Nothing
ever changes, except for the audience watching or the talent playing
the roles in the show.
One such moment of repetition was how I watched Taylor's hands as he
drove. I always watched them with a sort of awe. They were darkly
tanned, and gripped the steering wheel. They controlled our fates and
the car. Taylor's car was new, just purchased by Taylor's parents.
Taylor guided it along lifeless residential streets, traveling at 55
miles per hour. He always seemed to be so carefree when he drove that
it was almost scary to me. There was such an obvious lack of control
that was bottled up within Taylor, yet I never said anything. I never
mentioned his recklessness. I let him make the decision whether to
speed or not, and I hoped the car would never go off the road or
collide with anything. I just sank into the pattern.
We were always just coming back from eating at a trendy restaurant in
this segment. The restaurant we ate at today was called Gonzo's. The
restaurant we eat at tomorrow will likely be new and fresher version of
that restaurant. We kidded ourselves into thinking the new places were
better, but it was always the same thing with a altered exterior.
Instead of returning from a day in the city, we should have been in
school, but we were all seniors. We had no problem with skipping school
for a day. Actually, Taylor hadn't been to school for at least a week.
Doug and Rachel just didn't care enough to go more than twice a week. I
had been to school the first two days of the week, but I wanted to
relax for a day or two and hang out with my friends. Something bothered
me though. I tuned out Taylor's voice and my mind wandered along a few
thoughts. I was beginning to wonder if I was truly alive under all of
the pop culture. It coated my skin like a layer of slime. Maybe I
needed to go to the tanning bed again. I didn't think that was the
solution, though. I felt like a slug, crawling out of the eighties and
searching for a meaning to my life almost twenty years later. I felt so
empty. I felt so dull. I felt so pale.
I spoke, "Teresa's in the hospital."
He didn't hear me. He was either lost in his own world, or the stereo
was too loud. My voice must have broken his concentration. I watched
his right hand let go of the wheel a few seconds later and hit the mute
button. The Incubus CD that was playing was cut off, and there was a
sudden silence that made me wish I hadn't said anything.
He asked in an uninterested tone, "Huh? What'd you say, Rick?"
I repeated myself, kind of embarrassed to be saying anything, "I said
Teresa's in the hospital."
Taylor nodded his head, "Whoa?is she getting some cosmetic surgery or
something?"
Taylor didn't give me a chance to respond before he shrugged and put
the music back on. I busied myself picking at the scabs on my hands. I
was unsure of what else to say. Doug and Rachel were still busy talking
in the back seat. The car turned left. It skidded slightly along the
slick blacktop of a freshly paved road. I was thrown into the door
hard, but I knew that we were still alive. Taylor always managed to
gain control of the car.
I listened to Doug and Rachel's voices, and realized they were playing
the Judgment Game. This was a game that we made up one Saturday as we
returned from a nightclub called The Slaughterhouse. The name fit the
place because it was actually in the emptied out shell of an old
slaughterhouse. The club no longer existed, because it just became lame
after a week or two. There was also the stench of blood that still hung
in the air, even after years of abandonment.
We hung out at a place called Olympus now. Even that club was beginning
to be too typical. The clubs didn't last long. The Judgment Game did,
and had survived to become one of our favorite things to do. The game
consisted of deciding what the people in the middle class homes were
like, and creating scenarios about them. The game was another part of
the pattern we followed.
Doug was talking at the moment, "They're all old people. Independently
wealthy vampires sucking up people's hard-earned money, and I don't
even get why we pay for their disease. I'm not going to let myself get
old and gross."
Rachel's voice interrupted Doug's, and caught my attention, "Welfare
babies with no mothers taking care of them. I bet robots raise them to
collect money from the government."
Both Rachel and Doug had gotten their opinions from our glass-faced
god. Television taught us all about life and what really lived in those
houses. We assumed things about everything around us, because TV did it
for us. I wondered if we let the media bend us to its will, but I was
distracted by another thought.
Were these three people real, or were they inanimate objects somehow
given life. They could speak and act, but there was something missing.
It was if they weren't really there. And if they weren't real, was I?
Was I becoming just like them, or was I already one of them? Were we
all just robots on metal tracks, going in meaningless circles?
My thoughts were interrupted when Taylor turned another corner, and I
was slammed into the door again. I watched as the front of the car
nearly hit a child on a bicycle. I felt myself flinch and I shouted my
surprise. Only afterwards did I realize I was the only one to
react.
I felt embarrassed again. If the near collision didn't bother them, why
did it bother me? I didn't want to be bothered by such stupid thoughts
about my friends, so I turned around and joined the game. Some
ultra-trendy pop song could be heard as I did so.
"Yeah. There are obviously welfare babies in those buildings, Rachel.
I mean those are duplexes. I've never even met anyone who lived in a
duplex."
Rachel and Doug both nodded at the same time.
Rachel laughed, "Who even thought of putting two homes in one
building? That is so nasty."
Doug smirked, "Yeah. They might as well live in an apartment complex,
or the projects or something."
Rachel made a retching sound, "Don't even say that. Never mention
apartments again. You're sick."
Taylor laughed, "What's really sick is that guy Steven at school. Not
only does he have a scholarship to come to our school and clothes from
Wal-Mart, but I hear he doesn't even have cable."
We all laughed at the idea of someone not being able to afford cable.
We played the game for about fifteen more minutes until we reached my
parents' three-story home. We all lived in similar houses in the
neighborhood, and had known each other for years. None of us had
changed much over that time, so we were pretty close and the four of us
had a kind of comfort in the familiarity we shared.
I got out of the car, and turned around to say, "Later guys."
The music was turned down, and Taylor spoke, "Hey, Rick, you coming
out with us later tonight?"
I shrugged, "I'll think about it. My mom and dad might have a problem
since it's Thursday. They also didn't like my grades last quarter. They
had to bribe the school with a new building or something. Just call me
or something later on."
Taylor nodded, "Cool. Later."
I shut the door to the car and walked toward the front door of my
home. I could sense my friends' eyes on me as I did so. It was as if
they were judging my every move or something along those lines. I had
the idea that they were looking for a fault that they could
exploit.
Only as I heard the car roll away did I turn around and I noticed
something strange about my friends. I saw that I looked just like
Taylor and Doug. All three of us had stylish haircuts, tanned skin,
dark blue sweaters, baggy designer jeans, and white sports shoes.
Rachel looked just like Teresa with her long carefully brushed hair and
tanned skin. She and Teresa both dressed in short skirts and t-shirts
that almost always exposed their midriffs. I shrugged to myself and
dismissed those thoughts after a moment. I went into my home.
The idea of changing myself and being different crossed my mind for a
second. But I knew I wouldn't find change. Not in the suburbs. Not in
place where I could sink, and where I was sinking. It was impossible to
climb out of the person I was. I also knew that change wasn't something
I needed, anyway. It was an empty desire, and it was pointless to try
to achieve it. In the end, it was so much easier to just sink, drifting
forever.
When I entered the house I found my parents sitting across from each
other at the expensive dining room table. They were arguing. It sounded
like they were in the early stages of divorce. In fact, they had both
made attempts to get my approval recently. Whether they got a divorce
or not, and which one I lived with wasn't too important.
It was their own fault they were having problems, either way. My mother
was the one who was stupid enough to marry my father. She was only
attracted to his high Space Invaders score at the time. His high score
meant nothing in the new millennium. I knew this for a fact, because
she had told me so several times over the past three months. Their
arguments were also a part of daily life for those same three months
and I had stopped caring at some point. I ignored them both now.
The ignorant, illegal alien that was our maid stood in my way when I
walked up the stairs. She was dark-skinned and overweight. She had
coarse black hair and suspicious, beady eyes. She was usually dressed
in a light blue dress, and her rolls bulged tightly against its
sides.
I brushed past her, and watched her nearly fall over the railing. I
heard her mutter a few curses in some foreign language. I thought it
was perhaps time my parents got a new maid. This one had begun to get
irritable.
I gave her a look, and said, "Stay out my way. Go clean the pool or
something."
I watched her hurry down the stairs before I walked down the
tastefully decorated hallway on the third floor. I went to my door, and
swung it open, barely noticing the posters that decorated my walls as I
entered. They once held my attention with the depictions of violence
and my favorite sexual icons. Just like everything else, though, they
had just become dull over time. I collapsed in the beanbag chair, and
felt a weariness that had become more frequent recently. My left hand
grabbed a remote of the floor, and I hit the power button. My Sony
Trinitron's screen lit up and I saw that the local news was on.
I sighed, and muttered, "I hate this show."
My finger pressed the buttons on the remote, and the tempting glow of
MTV appeared on the screen. I drowned myself in the new Nickelback
video and comfort of doing the same thing I always did.
The phone rang a few times at some point. I was consumed by a special
about disabled children that had eventually replaced the music videos,
and didn't feel like answering it. I heard my girlfriend Teresa's voice
over the answering machine after four, shrill rings.
"Rick? Pick up if you're there. I just got out of the hospital, and my
dad said it was okay for me to come over tonight."
It was so irritating of her to call and distract me. How was I
supposed to develop a social conscience with her bothering me all the
time? I turned the volume up on the television. I felt myself drawn
further from the world as the new dating show came on. At some point,
the phone might have begun to ring again, but I raised the volume of
the television even more so that it was all that I heard.
I wondered as the credits rolled for the television show if I should
check to see if it was Taylor calling, or if it was Teresa calling to
bother me again. It seemed like a lot of effort either way, and I
shrugged to myself. I cleared my mind of those stupid thoughts. It
seemed so futile to even think. Life was a massive, incomprehensible
object, and my mind couldn't function enough to take it all in. I
wasn't sure if I wanted to anyway.
Sentimental acoustic guitar played as I tried to remember a time when
I thought I cared intensely about something, and came up with nothing.
I could remember only one time when I felt close to being complete, and
that was in kindergarten. I had owned almost all of the Teenage Mutant
Ninja Turtles action figures, and there was such a warm feeling in
knowing that. My favorite one had been the robotic turtle that he could
hold up to the light to make its red eyes glow. Some kid had stolen it
one day, and the emptiness had begun to spread within me then. I could
no longer light my interior with that dim red glow from the plastic
toy's eyes.
I wasn't sure if it was normal to treasure material things over others,
but I did know that I had loved that action figure. Even more than I
had once loved my parents.
My mind snapped back to the present, and I tried to forget that
feeling of warmth and meaning I felt so long ago. It was futile for me
to try to recapture such completeness in such an empty world. The only
thing that could complete me now is perhaps a night out at some club in
the company of my friends.
Then suddenly, in the middle of the new Offspring video, Teresa was
there. She was once the picture of suburban perfection, but I found her
suddenly hideous. Her skin had become too pale and unhealthy looking.
She didn't even have make-up on today. Her blonde hair was hidden under
a hat for some reason, and I turned my head to look at her at a better
angle. I prayed it was just a bad angle. I hoped that she was still
pretty and I was hallucinating. More sentimental acoustic guitar music
began to play as I contemplated Teresa's looks and found myself too
busy thinking to actually look at her anymore.
I hit the mute button on my remote, and asked, "What are you doing
here?"
There was a strange nervousness in Teresa's voice as she said, "Hi,
Rick."
"You coming out with us tonight? I think maybe my parents won't
notice. They're too busy arguing or something."
Teresa had no response, and this made me do a double take and I stared
at her for a good minute before speaking again, "What happened to you?
You need a tan, Teresa. You don't look happy without it. You need make
up too. Your face looks so plain without it. The hat's not helping you
either. It's no good, and you shouldn't wear it."
I watched tears fill her eyes, and I knew she was going to be stupid
and dramatic in a second or too. She ripped the hat off. All of her
hair was gone except for a few patches. I tried to remember why I was
going out with this pale, balding girl. My reputation was going to be
shattered at school. Her looks really mattered to me, and she didn't
even have them anymore. I was beginning to see Rachel as a tempting
replacement for Teresa. I drifted into thought of making a move on
Rachel tonight, and hadn't even made a sign that I had noticed Teresa's
tears. Then she threw the hat in my face, and it snapped my attention
back to the current events.
"Rick! I have been in the hospital, and you tell me I need a tan?
What's the matter with you? Were you always so cold and shallow?"
I shrugged, unsure of how to respond, "What was the matter with you,
anyway? Did you get the flu or something? I forgot."
She screamed at me, "I HAVE CANCER! YOU KNOW THAT! WHY ARE YOU BEING
LIKE THIS?"
This wasn't part of the daily events, and I was suddenly concerned, so
I responded to her screaming, "Oh, wow. Is it contagious?"
When she didn't respond, I spoke, somewhat reluctant because of
Teresa's changing of what should have happened, "Teresa, maybe we
shouldn't be going out anymore?"
Teresa didn't speak again, and I was bored after a second or two, so I
turned the sound on the television on again. I thought I heard her
leave, but I wasn't really sure. The stomping sound could have just
been the maid vacuuming in the hallway or something mundane like that.
My fingers ran over the black hat Teresa had left, and I tried to
decide whether I should be touching it or not. I had a fear of catching
cancer from it.
The phone rang again, and I got up from my beanbag chair and crossed
the room quickly. I picked it up off its cradle.
"Hello?"
Taylor's voice crept over the line, "Hey, we decided to do something
at my house tonight. My parents are out of town again. You want me to
come get you, or did your parents give you more trouble about your
grades?"
I thought it over for a moment, "No, they didn't. They're too busying
talking and stuff. So, yeah, sure? come on over."
"Great, Rick. Hey, sorry about Teresa. I know you really love her and
all, and I didn't mean to make you think I didn't care about her
condition or anything?"
I was confused, and a strange feeling came over me, and I could only
respond with, "Huh?"
"She's in the hospital, right?"
I felt the feeling of what was almost like guilt again, but I replied
to Taylor's question quickly, "Huh? No, man, she was just over here.
She seemed to be upset about something. Maybe they messed up her
collagen injections or something. I don't know. It's so typical of her
to get upset anyway. So when are you coming over?"
"Is ten o'clock okay with you?"
I said, "Okay, sure. Bye."
I hung up the phone, and fingered the hat again. I was feeling the
strange sensation still, but I wasn't sure what it was anymore. I
shrugged to myself and threw the hat aside. I picked up the television
remote again, and sat back down in my chair again.
I turned the television's volume down to a low, almost hypnotic,
murmur, and decided to sleep for a bit. Maybe I would wake up not
feeling so bad about Teresa. I hoped I would at least be in a good mood
after my nap. If I felt better, I could try to move in on Rachel
tonight. I wanted to try to distract her from Doug. I knew she was
going out with him and all, but she had been going out with Taylor
before that. I could probably get her if I wanted to, and it was no big
deal even if I couldn't. My mind began to drift into unconsciousness.
My ears picked up the sounds of MTV, my parents still arguing
downstairs, and someone crying in the hallway.
I sank into a comfortable, numb blackness without a concern in the
world. I curled into ball, finding myself in something similar to the
fetal position. The buzz of the television speakers seemed so
comforting. The television succeeded in doing something my parents
never could.
I drifted in the womb of my surrogate, information age mother who
soothed me with the knowledge that tonight and tomorrow will be the
same as yesterday. The soundtrack played the latest in electronic music
that has been re-circulated through clubs over and over again. I forgot
myself for a time as I sank forever and a day while the video or
commercial ended and went into a new one. I was left in an uncaring
limbo.