Rhodes

Chapter Four

CHAPTER FOUR:

            Lloyd and I don’t take trains very often, but when we do, we always sit on the upper level and at the far end. It’s like a sofa seat instead of two individual chairs facing each other. I always get the window seat, because I get headaches if I don’t, and Lloyd just brings his crossword puzzles or idea journal with him to keep himself busy. He never gets much done, though. We were currently talking; our topics were always changing, so it was hard to stay on one thing for a long amount of time.

            “Okay, yeah, but if you weren’t gay—“                                     

            “But I am. “

            “I know, but if you weren’t—“

            “But I clearly am.”

            “Yeah, no, I get that—woo, rainbows—but if you weren’t all gay—“

            “No, I would not sleep with Alicia Silverstone even if I weren’t gay. Her voice annoys me.”

            I nodded, somewhat understanding his point. Lloyd went back to his book of crosswords, mad-libs, and word searches. I’ve always thought it was kind of sad to see anyone who wasn’t six years old or retired doing those things. Nevertheless, I went back to looking out the window and putting my headphones over my head. Lloyd let me borrow his CD player for my trip and made me swear to bring it back in the exact same condition, or he’d make me watch reruns of Hey Dude for twelve hours straight.

            “Dude, dude, look,” I slapped Lloyd’s shoulder, “That’s a helluva lot of shirtless scrubs out there. Whoa… helluva lot of shirtless ladies too. Schwing!”

            Lloyd laughed and looked out the window to confirm. Sure enough, half-dressed people walked through the streets, but it was mainly because of the blazing weather this summer brought us. Typically, Lloyd and I use slang in an ironic fashion, only coating every word with the finest of sarcasm. Whether they were lines from Wayne’s World or My So-Called Life, they were always at least 98.7% sarcastic.

            Chicago was always an interesting city to me. Large architecture, busy streets, busy people—everyone seemed to have somewhere to be. Natives, anyways; suburb visitors usually just went with the flow as they cruised through shops or fast food restaurants. Not to mention, Chicago is a city with an appreciation of art; whether that’d be graffiti under the stills of a bridge, a caricature drawing on the corner of the street, or an oil painting in the Art Institute, there’s always something. But the city moves too fast.

            Lloyd loves Chicago, even though he constantly runs his mouth on how artists are the most pretentious people he’s ever met. The only thing that keeps Lloyd out of Chicago is the shortage of money, his “stable, but temporary” job as a teacher’s aide, and Christian (though, he doesn’t like to admit that one). I’d like to believe he stays because of me too, but then I realize how horribly selfish that is and laugh about how I’m ruining his life.

            “Lloyd,” I chime, staring out the sweat-stained window, “am I ruining your life?”

            “Every time I open my eyes in the morning,” He nodded.

            “No, you’re gonna miss me this week,” I said. I dug my hands between his neck and shoulders so he flinched at the ticklish touch; “Say uncle!”

            “Y-y-you f-ferret,” He choked, “Uncle, goddammit.”

             I let go, laughing at Lloyd’s crimson and breathless face. He ran his fingers through his wavy, brunette hair that desperately needed a haircut now that I look at it. Lloyd was always neat and simple when it came to clothes, but his hair was always a weird mess of misdirection. I, quite frankly, was the opposite. My black hair was groomed, but I still wore t-shirts from my sophomore year of high school; never out-grew my love for logo t-shirts of soda brands or cartoons.

            You may be wondering how Lloyd and I managed to get to the point of where we are now, and if you’re not, then just give me a couple minutes. It’s quite simple, actually, although the exact time it happened is a little blurry to me. As far as I know, Lloyd and I have been friends since my freshman year, but Lloyd always jumps on the offense to say that we met much later than that. Either way, it took place in the annual Mr. Naperville contest, where a bunch of guys did a basic parody of typical beauty pageants.

            Lloyd was participating that year, for whatever reason. The same guys always signed up; the infamous class clowns, the popular strong-jaw-line dudes, and the occasional kid who’s forced into it. That kid was Lloyd. He was tall, lanky, and just irrefutably awkward. His face was plastered with acne and his polo shirt was a weird shade of green. Still, he went up there for the special skills portion and that’s the first time I actually started to pay attention.

            Lloyd decided to do impressions, but extremely funny ones. His voice was spot on, along with his facial expressions that seemed to flow throughout the whole performance. The funniest thing, though, was that once his performance was done, his face just dropped into that bored, apathetic expression again like he didn’t just perfectly impersonate Will Smith.

            Afterwards, I kept buggin’ him to do his Beavus and Butthead act again or even Mr. Feeny, but he just kept retaliating with, “Leave me alone, Arthur Rhodes.” Lloyd was a bitter child. Nevertheless, I strived to make sure that anyone who could do a spot-on impression of George Costanza was available 24/7 at my disclosure. So, I befriended the dork, even if the process didn’t always include fun times or free will.

            And now we’re here; living together, sharing our lives’ inevitable demise and a bathroom.

            “How long is the ride, anyways?” Lloyd asked.

            “Well,” I began, “According to Mallory’s ‘Personal Navigation Assistant’, it should be around a 30 hour drive. Most likely, I’ll take a cab for six to seven hours every day.”

            “How on Earth are you gonna find a taxi that agrees to drive with you for six to seven hours?”

            “Ah,” I smiled, sticking a finger in the air, “but I called in advance. I made arrangements with all the different taxi companies, so as soon as I get off at the train station there’s gonna be a taxi waiting for me. Pretty nice, huh?”

            “I still don’t see why you don’t just take a train,” Lloyd said, rolling his eyes, “It’s cheaper and quicker.”

            “I’d kill myself if I had to stay in the same seat for thirty hours. This plan allows me to explore the places; almost like a road trip. A Rhodes trip!” Lloyd looked disgusted at my pun, to which I frowned at. “Whatever, plus, I get to meet new people every day.”

            “How interesting can a taxi driver be, Arthur Rhodes?” He asked, crossing his arms.

            I shrugged, “I don’t know; I didn’t look that up. Besides, if they aren’t interesting, I can just play games. I brought my Nintendo.”

            “Listen, I love you, man, but this idea is so stupid my brain hurts just hearing about it. You make my brain hurt, Rhodes. I swear you’re gonna give me a stroke one day.”

            “A stroke of luck, Lloyd. Stay positive.”

            “You’re an idiot.”

            “Stay positive.”