We didn’t make much headway that day, Barry and Mom being high and all. Once we hit D.C. by taking some less traveled roads, they wanted to go sightseeing. We left Johnny Cash behind and did a full tourist spin: the White House, Lincoln Memorial, and Washington Monument. It was like we were toying with the government after our separate robberies, dangling our crimes in Uncle Sam’s face. I didn’t mind the detour. We’d given up on Florida for the time being, and none of us had ever been to D.C. before.
There’d be too much fuzz around, so we wisely took a break from thieving. Best to keep to little convenience stores tucked away off highways. It was nice to see my folks enjoying themselves. The last few months had been fraught with stress for all of us. They were able to relax, crack jokes, be the best versions of Barry and Judith (the pot likely helping). The Barry we knew back in New Jersey was usually sweating, worrying about the market, always with one eye on the stock ticker. The Gimmelman kids coming second to his first love, money. I probably took it hardest, Steph busy with Kent, Jenny occupied with roadkill. But today, he threw his arm around me, and we took goofy pictures all over D.C.: him giving me a noogie in front of a statue of Abe, both of us throwing up bunny ears behind Steph as she posed along the National Mall. By the time we got back to the RV and let Johnny Cash out to pee, I was wiped.
Steph and Jenny had the luxury of a curtain separating their sleeping area. I was forced to hear Barry and Mom’s continued celebrations. I wondered how they could be so wide awake. It didn’t smell like they’d taken any more hits of grass. They made loud love, and I stuffed my ears with pillow covers to drown out their moans. But it never seemed to end. The whole RV rocking. I couldn’t sleep. I figured I’d take a look-see at the gun.
I didn’t even have to tiptoe to the glove compartment. They never would’ve heard anything over their own blanketed thrusts. I once saw my gym teacher, Mr. Flanders, and the art teacher, Ms. Jacee, getting it on in the locker room. I’d forgotten my striped tube socks and went back for them since it was a Friday, and I wouldn’t have them for the weekend. They had no clue I was there. He bent her over his table, slapping her butt and pushing into her from behind. She kept saying “Oooo, oooo, oooo,” over and over, twisting her face like she was having a stroke. Mr. Flanders looked like someone squirted Lysol in his eyes. Ms. Jacee was wearing a muumuu that he draped over her head, both of their underwear hugging their ankles. He squeezed her little titties too. The whole shebang was over in about three minutes after a groan from him. She shimmied up her panties and kissed him on the cheek. As she was leaving, I hid behind an open locker while Mr. Flanders whistled “Give Me the Beat Boys” by Bob Seger.
Mom and Barry were different in their lovemaking. While I didn’t want to pry, I couldn’t help but watch. Thankfully, they were under the covers to spare me from too much damage later on and resembled some weird organism not of this world that morphed into various shapes and sizes. When I saw a foot kick out of the covers, the toenails painted dark red, I ran to the glove compartment.
Not sure of what I’d do with the gun, I figured I’d wing it once I had it in my hand. Should I shoot and stir them from their never-ending sex session? My answer came swiftly when I found no gun in the glove compartment. Wise of Barry to keep it close to him away from us kids.
What I did find was a lot better. A small vile that held white powder. I’d seen enough say no to drugs, I’m not a chicken, you’re a turkey, commercials to know what it was. When Barry used to sport a mustache, he’d return home from work with a white dusting around his nostrils. Also, I could quote every Miami Vice episode verbatim, and usually, cocaine seizing kept Crockett and Tubbs active. But what to do with it? I unscrewed the cap. Took a sniff. A drop shot up my nose like a million tiny firecrackers. Rad. Me likey already. I had a thousand thoughts I wanted to express at once, but no one was available to hear them. My heart felt like a hockey puck, ready to shoot out of my chest and start its own life solo on the road. I wished it well. Deciding I hadn’t had enough, I took another snort, this one more in-depth, the coke like liquid in my nasal cavity, hot and viscous. The RV walls closing in, my parents’ wails reaching a full tilt, the universe overwhelming. I burst outside, waking up Johnny Cash, who lunged at me only to be snapped back by his leash. I wanted the stars. I ran from civilization till the RV was barely a speck. Surrounded by trees, I lay in the cold dirt, shivering. It wasn’t as freezing as in New Jersey, but still cold. I didn’t care. I was chasing revelations. I found them in the twinkling lights overhead. I would tell Steph and Jenny about my successful robbery. We would prove that we could have as much to contribute to our burgeoning spree as Barry and Mom. They wouldn’t have to keep their bounty a secret anymore.
When I got back to the RV, Johnny Cash was howling. Barry stepped out in Mom’s pink and frilly bathrobe with a newspaper in hand to whap him on the nose.
“Aaron,” he said, peering into the darkness. “What are you doing outside?”
“Couldn’t sleep.” I was talking faster than I could think. “I don’t know…. Big deal? Uh, uh…. What’s it to you?”
He led me by the back of the head. “I think I know what this is about. You have no privacy.”
“No. Yes. Yes, that’s true. You and Mom have your nook. Steph and Jenny have their sleeping area. What if I constructed you one?”
“I wanna help you rob too.”
He put a finger to his lips.
“You wanna tell the whole Earth?” He poked his tongue into his cheek. “I’m formulating plans right now, bud. Our next steps. A kid could be useful, but a kid has to be used in the right way.”
“No one would suspect me.”
I didn’t know why, but I was crying. Maybe it was the coke. This being exactly what they meant by coming down hard.
“Hey, hey there.”
He tucked me into his armpit, the smell of sex still oozing from his pores.
“I’m not saying no, bud. I’m saying let’s just wait. Your mother, she was a find yesterday, held her own. Lemme use that angle for the time being, keep you kids clean.”
“You never would’ve done it if I hadn’t first.”
He nodded. “Possibly. Can’t lie, though. It’s something I pondered before. I’m enjoying not being chained to a desk, the stresses of a boss hanging over you, insane demands. I never wish that for you. I’ve thought about money in the wrong way for too long. As something I needed to earn. They say it doesn’t grow on trees, but that’s a lie—it’s only that those trees might not belong to you in the literal sense. But who’s to say what belongs to any of us? Stocks are the same. The idea of money rather than the tangible. It never really existed. Cold, hard cash, though, I can feel that. Truly makes my dick hard.”
I cocked my head to the side.
“Sorry ’bout that, just an expression. Didn’t mean to burn your sensitive ears. So, the tears are dried up?”
“Yeah.”
“Good. And we’ll continue this discussion. For now, your job is to keep your sisters naïve to our new business. Let them roll with this idea of a vacation. Okay?”
He tousled my hair and went inside before I could answer. I sat down with Johnny Cash and let him lick my wounds, his breath like an asshole, but I didn’t care. I was still sniffling even though I’d told Barry I wasn’t, and the dog’s licks were at least making me feel a little less shitty.
When I eventually went back inside, everyone was sleeping, everyone except wide-awake, coked-out-of-his-mind me.