Panorama City (7 page)

 

Dr. Rosenkleig's office was not in Panorama City but just across the invisible line dividing it from Van Nuys. The office was in his house, his yard was neatly trimmed, the pebbles bordering the path were neatly aligned, the grass looked greener and healthier than the neighbors' on either side, I wondered if he and Aunt Liz shared the same gardener. The office entrance was to the right of the front door. Once you were inside, though, it was obvious you could walk straight through the office and into the house, everything was under the same roof, it was obvious to anyone with any knowledge of houses and how they are built or demolished that all he'd done was add a separate entrance to a spare bedroom. The walls were covered with certificates and plaques, they were covered completely, there wasn't room for even one more plaque. Aunt Liz dropped me off that first time and said she would be back to pick me up, she dropped me off after introducing me to Dr. Rosenkleig, whose name was Armando, who said, Call me Armando. He didn't wear a doctor's jacket or stethoscope, he wore a thick multicolored sweater, it was not cold in his office, his sweater looked like some kind of beast that was digesting him. His hair was what they call salt and pepper, he kept his chin up high like a cat feeling the sun on his face. I wasn't sure what to say, I wasn't sure how to start our conversation, so I explained to Dr. Armando Rosenkleig that I was new in Panorama City, that I had been there only a day, that I was twenty-seven years old, and so on. Then we were quiet, he didn't say anything for a long time, I waited for him to respond. He sat on a hard wooden chair, I sat on a sofa, he took some notes on a yellow legal pad, after twenty minutes he started to look sleepy, he looked like he was having trouble not falling over sideways, his chair had no arms. He asked me why I had come to see him, and I said that Aunt Liz had brought me. He asked me why I thought Aunt Liz had brought me, and I said that she wanted me to talk about my feelings in the wake of my father's death. He asked me what my feelings were in the wake of my father's death and I didn't know what to say, it didn't seem like a question you could just answer. I was confused as to how this man could have become a professional talker and listener. I couldn't help but wonder, if you weren't a very good talker and listener, why would you become a professional at it?

 

Later, much later, Paul Renfro explained to me that typically people become professionals at things they have no aptitude for. People who choose to wear the mantle of professionalism wear that mantle to conceal their lack of natural ability, Paul's words. Paul told me that in his youth he knew, he knew even at age five, while other children were talking about becoming firemen or doctors or airline pilots, he knew that he would never become a professional anything, he knew even then that professionals were the greatest perpetrators of fraud in the world, that our only hope as a species lay in the hands of those who had not declared themselves professionals at anything. Someone like Dr. Rosenkleig becomes a therapist because he is fascinated by the workings of the human mind, Paul's words, and he is fascinated by the workings of the human mind because the workings of the human mind baffle him, because he has no natural aptitude for understanding the workings of the human mind.

 

After our session I found Aunt Liz waiting in the driveway, in her Tempo, she was waiting in the idling Tempo, she had the air-conditioning on, she had her visor mirror down and was examining her face and making small adjustments to her makeup. Dr. Rosenkleig followed me to the car, he seemed to have found a boost of energy somewhere, he smiled wide and told Aunt Liz that we were already making tremendous progress. I did not contradict him, I was pleased to hear it, but as far as I was concerned all that had happened was that I had talked in a great big circle and ended up right back where I started.

 

Aunt Liz made dinner that night, she made a shepherd's pie and a salad, and we ate across from each other in the kitchen, at the kitchen table, a single unlit candle between us, despite the fact that there was a proper dining table, in the dining room, with many unlit candles on it. I asked Aunt Liz why we weren't eating in the dining room and she told me it was for guests, for when we had guests over, it was for special occasions, and once I got myself established, once I began to lead a respectable life in Panorama City, one day I would move into a place of my own, and then she and I could eat at the dining room table, because then I would be a guest, but for now I was a member of the household, and I was expected to contribute as a member of the household, and I was to eat at the kitchen table just as she had always done in the period before my arrival, except of course when guests were present. I asked her why we didn't light the candle, and she said that she didn't want to clean up the wax and have to be replacing the candle all the time and besides the lights in the kitchen were soft enough. I asked her then why have a candle at all and she said that it was for atmosphere, that it made things nicer. I suggested that if the power went out it would also come in handy. She said I was missing the point.
The candle, she said, was the difference between a house and a home, it made the difference. Then, changing the subject just a little, in her Aunt Liz way, she asked whether my quarters were adequate. Which was when I expressed concern about my bed, she asked if the sheets were too feminine, I said they were not, I said that the problem with my bed was the size, I could only fit on the bed, I could only get my whole body onto the mattress in a zigzag shape, lying on my side, I had slept that way the night before, in a zigzag, on my left side, but then I had been, or my body had been, overwhelmed with the urge to turn over, for the body is always seeking a sense of balance in sleep, my philosophy, and when I tried to roll over onto my right side, into a zigzag shape on my right side, I had to straighten out and position my legs on the thing opposite the headboard, the footboard, temporarily position my legs there, supporting my weight, which was very uncomfortable, so that by the time I was in a zigzag shape again on my right side I was wide awake with discomfort. This happened several times over the course of the night. I'm not a complainer, I wouldn't have said anything, except that I was concerned I wasn't going to be getting enough rest, that over the course of several nights the lack of rest would add up to a general fatigue, it had happened to me before, it had happened to me in Madera, when I had broken my arm, or rather my arm had gotten broken while playing Smear the Queer with the Alvarez brothers, I had fallen in an awkward way, and because of the cast and the way it was situated I could not roll over freely in my sleep, and as a result I suffered from what your grandfather called general fatigue, which he said was quite noticeable with me, what happened was that in addition to having less energy I was less interested in everything and less friendly, too, I wasn't myself. At the time I did not know the root cause of the general fatigue but I have since come to realize that without sleep the head gets clogged with other people's words. The head needs sleep to make everyone else's words into our own words again, it is a conversion process.

 

Aunt Liz pulled off her reading glasses, she wore glasses to read, she didn't need them to drive, she wore them for things that were up close, like reading books and magazines, and she always wore them while eating, too, it made her uncomfortable, she told me later, to eat blurry food. She removed her reading glasses and rubbed her temples and put her elbows up on the table. She said that this was a vexing issue, she asked if I was sure there was no way to get an adequate amount of rest with the bed, the problem was that she could not afford a new bed, she was just scraping by as it was, her words, when I arrived on the scene. I suggested that I could make some modifications to the bed, that I would be happy to modify the bed to suit my needs, that with the right tools I could modify it myself. I described the extension I had in mind, in enough detail that the method of construction was clear, that the supplies and tools needed were clear, which were a good saw, electric if possible, but otherwise a good handsaw, a hammer or nail gun and nails, or an electric driver with drywall screws, and some plywood and two-by-fours, there was no real point in trying to match the wood to the bed, it was going to be covered with padding, it was going to be covered furthermore with an extra bit of matching bed-sheet, I had the whole thing planned out in my head, it was the perfect practical solution for allowing my body to stretch out completely while in a state of rest and allow free and unfettered movement. But Aunt Liz would not let me modify the bed, despite the fact that I am good with wood. I suggested sleeping on the floor, I could sleep on the floor, it is supposed to be good for the back, source unknown, but Aunt Liz wouldn't hear of it, judging by the look on her face you would have thought I was going to lie down in the street. I wondered what I was supposed to do that night, how could I ensure that I would get a good night's rest that night, I had to be at the fast-food place in the morning again, I had to be there for the breakfast shift, I wanted to show pride in my work, I wanted to be my friendly self. Usually I could nap, if I was back in Madera I would have napped, or slept until I had slept enough, and then, only then, ridden my bike into town to look for work, but in Panorama City there was no time for napping, you went from one thing to another, there were no spaces between anything.

 

Finally Aunt Liz said that she had an inflatable mattress somewhere, she had bought it from a catalogue on an airplane, she had never used it, she didn't think it was very big, it was smaller than my bed, but my legs and arms could dangle over the edges, probably, without too much discomfort, it would be better than sleeping on the floor, would I be willing to try it? I'm always willing to try something new, it is one of my qualities. And so my first full day in Panorama City, the most eventful day of my life up until then, the day with more events in it than any other day in twenty-seven years, came to a close with Aunt Liz and I taking turns on the foot pump, taking turns pumping up the air mattress on the floor of my quarters, until it was firm enough to support me, until the pump wouldn't put any more air into it, and then Aunt Liz and I stretching a fitted sheet over it, she wouldn't hear of me sleeping on an unmade bed, and then Aunt Liz wishing me goodnight and going off to her quarters elsewhere in the house. I brushed my teeth and washed my face, I used the toilet and stared at the picture of footsteps on the beach. I lay on the air mattress, it was a strange sensation, it was unlike any bed I had ever lay on before, wherever I put myself the air went somewhere else, so that it didn't feel like I was sleeping on top of the mattress as much as it felt like I was sleeping surrounded by cushions of air, pressing on me from below on all sides, it felt like I was suspended. I couldn't quite place the feeling, but it was a familiar feeling, there was something familiar about it, I had never slept on an air mattress before but I knew the feeling. I couldn't sleep until I figured out where I had felt this before, where I had experienced this feeling of being suspended and also pressed in from all sides, it couldn't have been from before I was born, I couldn't remember that far back, it couldn't have been from when I was a baby. It was strange, being able to remember a feeling but not being able to say what it was, and it kept me awake much of the night, it kept me awake into the wee hours of the morning, as they say, it was altogether a restful sort of feeling, it should have led me right to sleep, but the idea that some part of me, some memory, was locked away inside me was very disturbing, I could sense it trying to peek through, it was like having a word on the tip of my tongue, as they say. I tried to think of other things, to distract my mind, I tried to think about my day, about all of the new things and new people, I tried to figure out why Roger Macarona had found the sex video so funny, and why Ho had been disturbed by what I had said, and why the trays had frustrated Francis, and why the cities here were so close together that you couldn't tell them apart, and why Roger had said we were at war with the customer, and why the skateboarder kid had asked me for fries and a Coke when we weren't in the restaurant, and why Dr. Rosenkleig had become a professional speaker and listener if he wasn't good at it, and why Aunt Liz sat so close to the steering wheel when she drove, but it was no use.

I was early for my second day of work, I arrived before Roger, I must admit that I was excited at the idea of Roger arriving and seeing me already there, working, a smile on my face, I pictured Roger coming in and seeing me wiping counters clean before, technically, my shift even began, and thinking, There's someone I can count on, there's a man of the world, there's a go-getter. Eventually, Melissa let me know that Roger was up at the lake for the day, tending to his boat, and that she was in charge, that she would be the one giving orders around here today. She was the boss now, she was running a tight ship here, the cat was away, her words, but he'd left a bulldog in his place, there wasn't going to be any dillydallying, not on her watch. Time is money, she said, let that be your E equals M C squared. When she talked she shook her head side to side like she was saying no, like whatever it was you wanted to ask her the answer would be no. Within an hour she was back to being the old Melissa, she was back to treating us like she treated her kids. It turned out that she'd just been establishing a pecking order, a level of respect, so that she wouldn't have to hear any back talk later on, she had learned this from raising her kids all on her own, their father had left, she'd had to be both mother and father to them, which reminded me of your grandfather, who had been both father and mother to me, which I mentioned to Melissa, which she said she could relate to. Then she informed me that in addition to my duties bussing the trays and washing the trays and returning the trays to the counter, I would have an additional duty, which was taking the trash out. This was the nature of being the floater, new duties were always being added.