When We Were Young
by Rick Moody
Here, the three main characters on the front lawn of their D.C. residence, Massachusetts Avenue Heights, where they are posing on the lawn for a family photograph not far from the Mercedes-Benz black SUV with tinted windows that will be their conveyance. These three characters are George, Kellyanne (who goes by Fitz), and Claudia.
Meanwhile, George IV, Claudia’s twin, whom Claudia calls Tommy Boy or just T.B., is not in the photographic composition for reasons shown below.
Two younger sisters, Charlotte and Vanessa, are here, just upstage, with a friend of the family, also known as Republican operative Dana Schmitz-Young, 29, currently installed in OMB, at least until Inauguration Day, should in fact Inauguration Day arrive. Schmitz-Young operates the camera, and George, Fitz, and Claudia smile as each photograph is being taken and then quickly revert to various facial contortions closer to grimace or complaint.
Notwithstanding, Claudia now supplants the DSLR camera with her iPhone, mumbling about the insufficiency of certain Instagram filters. Soon she gets back in the line.
The little girls shout “Go Claudia! Kick ass, Claudia! Kick ass!” until Fitz asks each to quit it with the embargoed words.
She then resummarizes the evening childcare expectations for the benefit of Republican operative Dana Schmitz-Young. She tells the operative to order pizza, but it has to be from the gourmet place, gluten-free crust, and not from, e.g., the Comet Ping Pong, and says they’ll be back in 36 hours, and the girls are to stay off the iPads and to be sure that their homework is done before any further telephoning. No TikTok. No boys. No vaping.
Dana Schmitz-Young, whose master’s thesis at Cambridge was on the decline of the labor movement in the 1980s, nods with a preprofessional intensity. Dana is worried about an instability to come, and will she ever again have a job in politics? Will she be babysitting the Conway kids until the last one is in college, when what she really wants is a perch in the State Department or the NSA?
Okay, are we ready, George III seems to say, with a look. He is complex, sad, sentimental. And then:
Fitz:
Where’s Georgie?
George III:
We cannot be late.
Claudia:
He’s trying to fuck up my moment.
Fitz:
Language! (She runs upstage, toward the front door of the house, and a private security agent, in jacket and tie, emerges from the doorway.) David, did you see Georgie in there? Will you knock on the upstairs doors?
George III:
Oh brother. This is bad.
Fitz:
Don’t catastrophize. The audition isn’t for…(looks at phone)…twenty-three hours.
George III:
You don’t want to stand around in ticketing. At Dulles. It’s a security issue.
And so the three of them return to their phones, scrolling and typing, and the only bit of human easement that manages to leak out of the tableau are the tiny changes in posture, and the sighs. Periodically, Fitz has an awful coughing fit, because she’s just three weeks out from her bout of COVID.
The three other bit players, Charlotte, Vannessa, and Dana slink back upstage toward the front door of the house, taking a serpentine route, as in some kind of modern terpsichore that wishes to maximize the exploration of the space, though really they are trying to seem otherwise preoccupied, Dana conveying various instructions both strict and ironic but sotto voce.
It is the time of the audition, you see, the time in which this scene takes place. On November 15, 2020. The audition is of note as it represents a long simmering, not fully admitted ambition on the part of young Claudia Conway, one way or another to slip the repressive grasp of her parents, to launch herself on the culture at large, the celebrity world, even if the political world has lately fitted itself in there, and squatted, as though it were a variety of professional wrestling or infomercial production. Claudia wants to sing. And so the audition, which is an audition for American Idol, which, as you know, consists of various would-be singers and performers competing for the attention of stars and celebrities on the road to a multiformat stardom of their own including but not limited to talk shows, licensing, sublicensing, and so on.
Tomorrow’s audition takes place in Ojai, California, before a panel of experts. Her parents will accompany, as they are putting family first.
David, the private security agent, emerges from the house.
David:
He’s not in there, Mrs. Conway.
Fitz:
Are you shitting me? Where the fuck is he? David, what do we pay you for? Find the child!
George III (apostrophizing):
We don’t pay him. A prominent donor pays for him.
Fitz:
George, please don’t start.
David:
Did you look in the car?
Fitz:
What do you mean did I look in the car? You think I’m an idiot?
In fact, now Claudia has ambled over the the black SUV, and she is looking into the vehicle, as best she can, given that the windows are tinted, and at first she cannot be sure, but then she opens the door gently, and looks up to see her twin brother’s somnolent body, in the back seat, fully buckled in.
Claudia:
Well, at least we don’t have to wake him up to belt him.
Fitz (coming over):
He’s in the car? How long has he been in there?
Claudia:
It was probably the ketamine.
George III:
Honey, no, do not make jokes like that.
Claudia:
Who’s joking?
Fitz:
David, you let him fall asleep in the car, and you didn’t know where he was? You realize that anyone could come along this street. Antifa could march down this street.
David:
Very sorry, Mrs. Conway. Very sorry.
The private security agent makes his way back toward the entrance to the house. He squeezes around Dana Schmitz-Young and the two younger girls and disappears inside. Schmitz-Young and the girls hover there briefly, the door only somewhat ajar.
George III:
Let’s just let him sleep. We need to—
Fitz:
Okay then, motherfuckers. (At side of car.) Let’s rock. (Looking at her son in the backseat.) Jesus Christ, Georgie.
Charlotte (looking out door of house):
Kick ass, Claudia! Tell Katy we love her!
Dana Schmitz-Young (breaking into recitative, perhaps in close-up):
I never wanted to do this kind of job! I don’t even like kids! When a man tells me he wants to have kids, I tell him that my job comes first! Children are just to keep ambitious women down, and it doesn’t matter what party she belongs to! I once thought a certain child was cute, a little Asian kid I saw at a playground. It was one morning when I had been out all night discussing possibilities for professional advancement in a Republican-led administration. I tried interacting with the Asian kid, but I felt like she was not demonstrative or not sufficiently grateful for my interest. My heart was a little heartbroken, but then I was able to get on with my work!
George III, Fitz, and Claudia now climb into the SUV. The house lights dim as it becomes clear that the main action of the drama henceforth will take place in the interior of the car.
George III:
Rock Creek is going to be a bear.
Claudia:
Dad, please don’t go manic about the routes. It makes me anxious..
Fitz:
Have you chosen your song, honey?
Claudia and George III:
We’ve been through this!
Fitz:
We have? When exactly did we go through this? I just think you shouldn’t do an R&B number, because that just doesn’t look right, plus you’ll never be as good.
Claudia:
What does that even mean? Look right?
Fitz (to George III):
The Rihanna song, right?
George III:
She rehearsed a Katy Perry song too. K.P. has no kind of range. She’s not really a singer. Her song is totally doable.
Fitz:
Not the one with the gay stuff in it, please.
Claudia:
I kinda wish I could pull off a pop punk sorta song. Like Blink-182. Emo. With a wild drummer.
Fitz:
Now, you’re talking. Rock ‘n’ roll.
George III:
Who’s Blink Until You’re Two?
Claudia (face-palming):
Ugh.
Fitz:
Hahahaha! Rock music is more culturally appealing, more where we are now, though maybe not some band that complains all the time and does drugs. However, one member of Blink-182 has expressed some libertarian positions. I looked into them at one point when all those bands pulled out for the inauguration balls. That might work.
George III:
It’s going to be like a half hour until we get to The Exorcist steps. A true snarl.
Fitz:
Really, the right music would be, like, some jam band music. The Grateful Dead have lots of safe songs. And they are not technically difficult. Like you could sing “Franklin’s Tower.” That’s a really easy song, melody-wise. It’s just a little trifle. It just does the same things over and over. You could sing that one. And they stay well out of politics. They are not among those artists who are trying to groom the audience. “Franklin’s Tower” is a good song. I remember seeing them at a stadium. Meadowlands, maybe. I think it was like 1993 or something, before your father and I met, and they played “Franklin’s Tower.” I also really like that song “Bertha,” sometimes you have to dance to that song. You have to do a sort of twirling. There’s a particular way to do it. Probably it’s based on Sufism or something. Let’s hope not. I remember that stadium. It was all lit up. There were a lot of people on acid, probably, and the girls were doing the twirling thing in the aisles. It was one big happy celebration.
George III:
For God’s sake, Fitz, don’t talk about drugs.
Fitz:
George, they’re fourteen. They’ve heard it all before from Twitter.
Claudia:
Sixteen!
Fitz:
Honey, I only did the LSD a couple of times, and it really disoriented me. It was not a pleasant or comfortable experience. I don’t think it’s good for young people. Not while your brain is still developing. You are probably damaging neuronal connections somehow. My point is really about the jam bands being fertile ground for this show, you know, and not so embarrassing for me, or for the president.
Claudia:
Why does it always have to be about what’s embarrassing for you? It just means I can’t express myself, and anyway he’s not going to be president much longer. Because it looks like he just—
George III:
Amen to that.
Fitz:
Phish is also a very appropriate band. Those guys are for freedom. Not all of Vermont is socialist. There are the freedom-oriented parts too. The sign of freedom in Vermont is the snowboard. You know if you see a snowboard around that there are people who are not necessarily into boosting trans-ideology. They are snowboarding, and they are pursuing an open carry way of life. Songs by Phish sometimes memorialize this kind of freedom, though in veiled ways. Like there’s one called “Chalkdust Torture,” which I think is really about how the public education system is ideologically rigid, constraining, which we all know. Trey Anastasio is a fine guitarist too. I used to go to their annual Hampton events. I liked when they covered ZZ Top and songs like that. Really, honey, ZZ Top is an excellent band. You could cover “La Grange.”
George III:
Isn’t that about a brothel?
Fitz:
It’s about freedom!
George III:
I really think you should sing whatever you want to sing, honey. But maybe a song about a brothel isn’t really perfect. Also: shouldn’t you just do something you’ve rehearsed? I mean, second-guessing, yes, I know.
Fitz:
There’s String Cheese Incident. That’s another good band.
Claudia:
I don’t know why I’d even ask either of you. You’re old. You don’t know anything about the audience. American Idol’s audience skews millenial, not Boomer politicos.
Fitz:
What’s it have to do with our professions?
Claudia:
You make it about your profession every day.
Fitz:
What are you talking about?
Claudia (smacks forehead):
You just told me certain songs wouldn’t look good. I mean, the looking good thing is just you saying not to make you look bad, make the party look bad, make the base…
George III:
We’re never going to get past The Exorcist steps. We’re just going to be stuck.
George IV (in back seat, stirs in sleep, makes incoherent gurgling sound):
Gnnnrrnnnnmchllllgddddddd…
Claudia (whispering):
Don’t wake him up. It’ll be bad if he wakes up. He’s probably hungover. I saw a whole thing on YouTube about ketamine hangovers. Depression and anxiety. It can be bad. He’ll realize what happened with Andrea Hitchens.
Fitz:
Are you making up this ketamine thing? And who the fuck is Andrea Hitchens?
Claudia:
I’m completely making up Andrea Hitchens. She’s the daughter of an experimental therapist, heavily influenced by some German guy from the seventies, who supplies the ketamine to the entire school. She also talks a lot about injecting testosterone. So she’s bipartisan.
Fitz:
This isn’t funny at all. George, do you think that’s funny?
George III:
I don’t think it’s funny at all, Claudia.
Claudia:
Just don’t wake him up. Let him sleep.
Fitz:
He’s supposed to be seeing you off. On your big adventure.
Claudia:
I can talk to him any time. He texts me at four in the morning sometimes.
George III:
They have their own language, their own sociology.
Fitz:
Right. The twins and their own private language.
Claudia:
Tommy thinks I should sing a song by Wilco.
Fitz:
Who’s Wilco?
George III:
He played them for me. We were having a sharing-music father-and-son talk. In turn, I played him The Fixx. I really like one song by The Fixx. We used to play it in the fraternity house. Also I played him Wang Chung. I really liked that one song.
Fitz:
“Too Shy,” wasn’t that—
Claudia:
What happened on The Exorcist steps again?
George III:
They were in the movie, and—
Fitz:
She knows they were in the movie, George.
Claudia:
I’ve seen the movie!
George III:
Incredibly, your mother and I went there on an early date. I mean…
Fitz:
We did not go there on a date. We happened to be on a date.
George III:
Actually, the date started at—
Fitz:
The Watergate Hotel. We got drinks there first. Because we wanted to—
George III:
Recognize greatness.
Fitz:
A whole history of a certain kind of greatness started there. The unitary executive. And then we were going to this Italian restaurant called—
George III:
Piccolo, but then—
Fitz:
We suddenly realized we were right by the steps. This was long before—
George III:
The steps became the tourist landmark, but if you’re—
Fitz:
A practicing Catholic, and you have seen the film, you know, as we saw the film when we were young then you—
George III:
Have to descend the steps at some point. To feel—
Fitz:
The certainty that evil exists. You know, that there’s an actual evil force. It’s a Catholic thing.
Claudia:
That’s creepy.
George III:
It was our first date!
Fitz:
No, it was like our third.
George III:
Simply not true. It was our first. Though we had been introduced already at a party by Ann. Also, I had fettucini oceano at Piccolo, and it was really quite spectacular. There’s really nothing like scallops. Very hard to get bay scallops these days. Anyway, we were on the second floor, the balcony area. It was nice. I felt, you know, like I was unfolding somehow, into the wonder of your mother.
Fitz:
Yuck, what bullshit. Your father could romanticize an oil change.
A marked silence descends. Then George IV groans again.
Claudia:
Anyway, I really love this song by Wilco, and I just know it’s absolutely not the right song, but I really love it. Should I really definitely totally avoid a song just because it’s not the right time in history for it? Like what if I really loved, you know, “Some Enchanted Evening.”
Fitz:
You’re just saying that because your grandmother loves “Some Enchanted Evening.”
Claudia:
But if I said that I wanted to sing “Some Enchanted Evening,” even though no kid my age really knows what that song is about or where it’s from, you’d both say sing that song, right?
Fitz:
Definitely.
George III:
It’s a classic.
Fitz:
I really like “If I Loved You” better, but if you’re gonna use one show tune…
Claudia:
So this rock stuff, rock ‘n’ roll stuff, oldies music, whatever you want to call it, why isn’t that just as good as that stuff you listen to? Why isn’t that just as good as some song by Rihanna or Beyoncé?
George III:
Honey, it has to be a song that the judges know or can evaluate. Smokey Robinson doesn’t know String Cheese Incident.
Fitz:
Lionel Richie. It’s Lionel Richie. Not—
George III:
Oh hell, look at that. The bridge. That’s like an extra half hour.
Claudia:
Everyone wants to go to Virginia.
Fitz:
Why would anyone want to go to Virginia?
Claudia:
Will we make it?
Fitz:
The initial colonists of Virginia got eaten, I think. Right? In Jamestown? Didn’t they get eaten?
George III:
That was Roanoke. In Jamestown, they just got sick and fled.
Fitz:
They got eaten in Roanoke?
George III:
I don’t know where the cannibalism crept into the story. Just that they disappeared and were never seen again. Was it on the Outer Banks? Maybe. Whereas in Jamestown, I think everyone got dysentery or typhoid.
Fitz:
Your father always has lots of facts.
George III:
Your mother always has some spin.
Claudia:
So the song by Wilco is 2002, and it’s a bit of a rock song, like I was saying, and I heard it from a boy, a boy at a party played this song for me. He sat me down, and he had his earbuds in, and he said, Claudia, bae, you have to hear this song, because this song is going to change you, and he put his earbuds in my ears, which weren’t exactly a perfect fit, but I wasn’t really thinking about that part. I was thinking about this boy putting these earbuds into my ears, in order to teach me about this song. Like, what is it about songs that songs are a thing you need to pass to someone else? Even if you’re not a singer, you want to pass this song from yourself to another person, as though something important is happening right then with your transmission of this thing? This thing with, like, the wisdom in it. What is it about transmitting this thing with the wisdom in it? I thought the boy was just wanting to you know. But, no, he wanted me to hear this song. He said I had to listen to the song really loud, and not pay any attention to what was happening at the party at all. The boy said that what was happening at the party wasn’t important, that it was just a lot of nonsense, but that I should listen to this song, and something would happen, an opening outward, and he said, you have to listen closely to the refrain where it says…Uh, I can’t remember the refrain now.
Fitz:
Oh please, Claudia. You know by now there’s always some boy that’s going to say you should like that line or that song or whatever. And you know where those boys end up.
Claudia:
Dead?
Fitz:
Or in an endless cycle of rehab facilities, like Hazelden or the Betty Ford Center. Who was this boy anyway?
Claudia:
John. He was sorta short.
Fitz:
He was short?
Claudia:
Yeah, I noticed he was short. Sometimes the short boys are the most desperate to tell you something.
George III:
Is there some horrible reason that you’re using the past tense about this poor short boy with the good record collection right now?
Claudia:
Yes…
Fitz:
Are you saying…
Claudia:
Yeah, it was some kind of—
Fitz and George III (shaken):
Overdose.
Claudia (beginning to cry, and then giving herself over to really convulsive sobs):
Tommy Boy knew him too.
Fitz:
Jesus fucking Christ. Why didn’t you tell us this? Why isn’t the school telling us this stuff, like some boy you know is overdosing? Why are you even at that school? Is that part of their curriculum? Like humanities, Marxism, and fentanyl?
Claudia:
I did tell you.
Fitz:
You didn’t tell me.
Claudia:
I did tell you.
George III:
You didn’t tell me.
Claudia:
I told both of you.
Fitz:
When did you tell me? Did you tell me in person?
Claudia:
I told you two weeks ago. I told you in person. And then I told Dad over dinner. We were eating dessert. I waited for Char and Van to go to sleep. Then Dad and I were eating ice cream. And then I said something awful had happened. (Weeping.) But no one was listening to me.
Fitz:
Claudia, what is this bullshit about no one listening to you?
Claudia:
It’s just like you to want to prove to me that the feeling I had then was invalid, instead of just listening to me now. If listening is the big point, the thing that might make a difference, you fail at it in the first place, and then you fail at it again when I try to tell you how. You always fail at it. You never listen to me.
Fitz (exasperated):
I think if you told me your boyfriend just overdosed that I would remember it.
Claudia (still weeping):
He wasn’t my boyfriend! He was just the guy who played me the song. That’s all. The song I could sing at the audition, in some other lifetime. He was just a really nice guy who played me that song. And maybe he played it for some other people, I don’t know. Maybe he played it for every girl in our class. I didn’t really know him very well. I just knew him from when he played me that song, and after that he was dead. His parents came to school, they had some grief counseling thing, a grief session, where everyone could talk about what happened. That was just last week. His parents looked so awful. Just like they didn’t want to look anywhere, in any direction, because wherever they looked it was too horrible.
Fitz (to George III):
Did you know anything about this?
George III:
There was an email from the school. I suppose I feel awful, honey, that I was just eating ice cream and not understanding the scale of this. I guess we have all been in a really bad state because of the election. I know I have been. Agitated, distraught. I have been like some foul smelling stimulus-response machine, chained to the laptop, tweeting, and then tweeting some more, waiting for something, some shred of information, some bit of the truth, and then I puke out a little response, and then I go back to waiting. Like an idiot. I’m so sorry. Your mother and I have both tried to be more there for you. I think we just didn’t really give you much to go on with your friend. I’m really sorry.
Claudia:
Thanks, Dad.
George III:
Maybe this audition stuff, this singing, maybe it’ll help you after the death of your friend. I hope so, really. Maybe it’ll help distract you, help you to feel something positive in the world. In your life.
Fitz:
Obviously, we could all be doing a lot better. That’s obvious. We just haven’t put you kids first, really. There’s a lot of work for us to do. For example, if your father wasn’t trying to undermine the president and his agenda every day, we would all have been in a much better place.
George III:
You really had to go there, huh?
Fitz:
You know I’m right.
George III:
Actually, I don’t know anything of the sort.
Fitz:
Let’s try being totally honest, how about that? What I do, what I have done, being in the public eye, trying to advance your party, George, the party you used to revere, has everything to do with validation, self-respect, moral vision, role-modeling for the girls. Standing up there and being a woman with self-respect and appropriately scaled ambition. You swore to me, George, when I started with the administration, that you knew you were the plus one for the four years, and then you turned on me, like a wounded varmint, like a groundhog not getting what it thinks it needs. Just ripping and shredding everything in your path. Out of jealousy. You fucked over your own family out of jealousy. Feeling good about that now? Is this the car ride where you finally open up and apologize for just holding everyone hostage to your fifteen minutes of fame on social media?
George III:
God, it really is incredible how harsh you can be. When do you actually look at another person and feel compassion for their hardships, Fitz? Does that ever occur to you? Or is it just one of those trickle-down things where you learned from your manager on the job that the greatest thrill is annihilating another person, proving that your whim is the ultimate sign of how much power you wield, that you can just turn, in a moment, and ruin another person, just because, and that’s the sign that you have status? Always saving the worst brutality for the people closest to you. You were confirmed in the Catholic faith at some point, Fitz, you were married in the Catholic church. That’s a whole religion about trying to feel compassion for losers and tax collectors and hookers and small business owners.
All at once George III swerves off the highway. It’s all green out there, or mostly green, as they have finally gotten beyond McLean, the CIA, etc. George pulls off the highway, mumbling something about gas, but that’s not really it. In a few seconds, they pull into a Cheesecake Factory. The parking lot. Claudia knows immediately what’s up.
George III:
I’m just going to go use the men’s room, Claudia. Here’s the key. Lock the door, don’t respond to any strangers if they knock on the window. We’ll be right back.
George gives a withering glance at Fitz. They get out of the SUV together and go stand about ten feet away. George IV, slumped against the window in the back seat, is between Claudia and the scene out the window, but she can see her father gesticulating violently, and her mother foaming at the mouth. Pointing and yelling. Claudia puts her headphones on. Some contemporary hit plays, SZA or the equivalent. She’s watching her parents gesticulate at each other in the parking lot of Cheesecake FacTory, in McLean, VA, where just about everyone might know who they are, might be watching this fight play out, where it could end up in a tabloid. The music continues.
Claudia (to her brother, slightly too loud because of headphones):
Tommy Boy, I don’t want to sing the song by Rihanna. I don’t want to sing P!nk. I don’t want to sing Ariana Grande. I want to just make up some song on the spot. I just want to go out there and sing some song where everyone will know what it all feels like to us, to you and me, here in this place, this time, what this family feels like, which is the pain where you have everything in the world, all the stuff everyone thinks you want, but still you kind of have nothing. You have crumbs and ashes and the crust part of a PB&J, and you have none of what you need, like faith in yourself. I want to write a little song for you, Tommy Boy, about how my twin always sticks around, always shows up for me, and how I would like to do the same for him, like go to his really annoying lacrosse games, or help him with calculus.
The song on her headphones fades while she gives the speech. Her parents disappear into Cheesecake Factory. Suddenly, Claudia begins her song for her brother. Should be vulnerable, pitchy, inconstant, not “good” singing, but deeply human.
Claudia:
Once a boy was born
Just a couple minutes after his sis
Never as attractive as she is
And could give a shit about the biz
But he’s her little brother
Her twin until the end
Lovers come and go
But he’ll always be her friend
Your twin is your magic star
Swinging low up in the sky
You may never go that far
But your twin is standing by
With a kind word or two
When you parents are shouting
Fuck you! No, fuck you!
Your twin is your magic star
Your backstop in the game
Your world is always changing
But your twin is the same
Your twin he is always the same
Claudia:
Can’t I just sing that at the audition, Tommy Boy?
George IV stirs, briefly, looking for a comfortable position, turns away, helixed, almost facing the trunk area.
Claudia:
I guess my song kinda sucks. I guess I can’t say fuck you on national television, right? I guess it wouldn’t look good for the president.
Suddenly, her parents appear by the side of the car. George III is clicking the clicker. Her parents climb back in, carrying some bags.
George III:
Honey, we have cheesecake.
Fitz:
I had to get the Basque one.
George III:
Which she has to get because—
George III and Fitz:
The Basque language is a linguistic isolate!
Claudia:
Jesus Christ, how many times—
Fitz:
As you know, the Basque cheesecake is gluten-free. Though, you know, we should support any freedom-fighting group that is against socialist regimes in Europe. We should support the Fratelli d’Italia, the Front national, and of course we should support Putin over Ukraine when that war pops off. Who else, am I forgetting anyone? Your dad and I always support the law-and order candidate, Claudia.
George III:
So Mom got the Basque cheesecake, again, and I got the Celebration for you, honey, and we got an Oreo Dream Extreme for Georgie, in case he wakes up. Was that the right call?
Claudia:
I think he would eat almost any kind.
Fitz:
We labored a bit over what to get you. Because there are some low-cal options. Like the Lo-Licious. I think that’s gluten-free, too. But my recollection is that last time we came this way you got the…Key Lime.
Claudia:
And I hated it. I literally hate key lime anything. It’s like a scented garbage bag.
Fitz:
Oh goddamnit. I was sure you’d want the key lime.
George III:
Honey, are you sure you didn’t like the key lime last time?
Claudia:
I literally hated it. Wait, here’s another comparison…Children’s Advil.
Fitz:
Isn’t that like a grape flavor?
Claudia:
I’ll just eat Georgie’s.
Fitz:
Yeah, it doesn’t look like—
Claudia:
I’ll purge in the next rest area.
George III:
Please don’t say that.
Fitz:
Anyway, you’d have to do it at the Air and Space Annex.
Claudia:
I’ll use the airport restroom. There’s always someone purging in there.
George III:
I think you’re just trying to cause us concern right now.
Fitz:
By the way, what’s the name of the Wilco song again?
Claudia:
It’s funny you say that because it took me a really long time to figure that out. I didn’t figure it out until after Scott died. I didn’t Shazam it at the party, so I didn’t really know. Anyway, I’m pretty sure the song is called “Ashes of American Flags.”
Fitz:
Wait, say that again.
Claudia (beginning to realize):
It’s called “Ashes of American Flags.”
George III:
What? That’s a title? What kind of title is that?
Claudia:
It’s the title of a song.
George III:
No, songs are meant to be titled “I Can’t Live Without You” or “A Night to Remember” or “Three Times a Lady.”
Fitz:
Or “The Sunny Side of the Street” or “What a Wonderful World” or “Blue Moon of Kentucky” or “Georgia On My Mind” or “Turn on Your Love Light.”
Claudia:
Well, there are some death metal ones like “Chopped in Half” or “Slaughter of Innocence” or “I Cum Blood.”
George III:
What did you just say?
Claudia:
Those are actual songs.
Fitz:
What are you talking about?
Claudia:
Those are death metal songs. I swear. Real songs. Georgie would explain this to you if he was awake.
Fitz:
Are you saying a child of mine listens to a song called “Chopped in Half?”
Claudia:
No, he doesn’t like it, but he has done research. He has a lot to say about death metal and Tampa, and unnatural humidity.
George III:
Speaking of context, so are you saying the Wilco song is about burning American flags? Because that’s a bit of a redline for me. For example, I would refer you back to Street v. New York. That was, uh, let’s see, 1966. In New York City.
Fitz:
Uh oh, we’re really going to get it now.
Claudia:
Dad, we’re like fifteen minutes from the airport, we don’t have time for the entire dissent, okay? There’s a plane we have to catch.
George III:
So the guy in the case, his name is Street, by the way, thus the title of the case, as I recall he heard about a Black guy getting killed during the Civil Rights Era. So even though he was a veteran he took a flag that he had in his house and he went outside onto the corner, near his apartment, his place of residence, and he also brought some paper, see, because he was a veteran and he was not going to allow the flag to touch the ground, he put it on a piece of paper, and then he lit the flag on fire, and I have to say I’m really amazed that flags burn as well as they seem to do. Doesn’t that flag have nylon or synthetic fibers? I’m betting Street’s flag, what was his first name, it’s alliterative, like Stephen Street, or Stanley Street. Anyway, his flag was probably not synthetic, but he got it burning, and then he put down the flag on the piece of paper to watch it burn, and by then he sorta got a crowd going there, and he was making some political observations, and I believe the relevant one that was uttered about the time the local cops turned up was something like: “If America murdered James Meredith, then the flag of the country that did that does not deserve my respect.” I think I’m recreating the exact remarks, maybe, but you get the idea. The point is that when they charged him with a crime, they didn’t just charge him with the crime of burning the flag, they also charged him with “casting contempt” upon the American flag. So that means there was an additional piece of the criminal charge at that time, that, in a way, has not been resolved since, namely whether or not there can be a particular reason to believe that speaking ill of the flag is itself actionable. Although it’s true that the chief justice observed, as I remember it, that the conviction really had to do with the flag burning itself, rather than with the speech, the speech was just the proof that he was burning the flag for a political reason rather than because he accidentally set fire to the flag and was trying to extinguish the flames.
Claudia:
Dad, fifteen minutes.
George III:
It’s usually a little tied up around the Air and Space annex, we’ll have a few extra minutes. So my point is that the flag-burning amendment comes up pretty often, and even your mom’s boss, for example, for all his flatulent and repulsive and self-serving opinions about everything, his corruption, and his racism, even he was a guy who took time out of watching morning television to support a constitutional amendment banning flag-burning, and many states, for example, Michigan, if I remember correctly, still have archaic laws on the books banning “contemptuous remarks” about the flag. So even this discussion, if pursued in the wrong way, could be construed as holding the flag in contempt. I mean, I don’t know the song, and the part about burning the flag, so I don’t know how blatant the flag-burning is, but they’re from Chicago, right? Wilco is from Chicago? That’s really close to Michigan, so fans of Wilco, if they were singing along with the lyrics of “Ashes of American Flags” just over the border in the state of Michigan, those fans could be construed as violating state law in Michigan by casting contempt. My question to you, honey, is whether this TV show is broadcast in Michigan?
Claudia:
You’re just making a point, right? Because I bet it even broadcasts on, like, Easter Island.
George III:
I am, in fact, just making a point, as your father, who is also your de facto legal counsel that the TV show, especially if you get past the early rounds, will be broadcast nationally, not to mention internationally, eternally streamable on the Internet, and from a legal perspective there can be no ambiguity as regards a song and the idea of flag-burning, and/or casting contempt on the flag, even if, as you and I know, this particular kind of speech has been more or less prevalent, rightly or wrongly, since, apparently the Vietnam era, or perhaps even earlier, perhaps even a hundred years earlier, dating back to the run-up of the war between the states, as it was called by the flag-burners then, and, of course, there is some history of burning flags even earlier, for example there was some burning of the Union Jack, like when the Gaspee was sunk in Rhode Island, whenever that was, the 1760s, I guess. There was some flag burning there. Anyway, notwithstanding all the relevant protections dating back to Street v. New York, there are also state regulations, statutes, in more conservative states. You don’t want to be on the wrong side of that, especially when you’re going to be applying to college shortly. You can wear whatever you want on TikTok, if that’s how it must be, but just do this one thing for me, don’t sing a song about burning flags.
Claudia:
It’s not really about that. It’s sorta about how capitalism doesn’t stop the ache.
Fitz:
What? What the fuck does that mean?
Claudia:
The pain of being a person, a feeling person.
Fitz:
Oh my god. George, what the hell did you do to our children?
George III:
What did I do to our children? I loved our children without restraint, without limitation, in big convulsive fits of weeping, I loved everything about them. I loved their dirty socks, which I more frequently put in the wash than you did. I loved their bits of uneaten food, which I personally scraped into the trash can most of the time, except when the babysitter helped. I loved their selfish moments, because I thought they were the beginning of the experience of unselfishness. Their selfish moments were when they began to get uncomfortable with their selfishness. I loved their selfless moments above all other things, the little moments when they said: I want to give this cherished toy to my sister, because she deserves a chance. I loved moments at church when they were suddenly transfixed. I loved when the inconstant message of Catholicism suddenly lurched into view, and they got it. They got that they were perfect, not in the sense of being perfect students, but in the sense that their imperfections were as they were supposed to be, that grace was a thing that children could see and teach and help their parents with. I loved when they did things all together, and then, too, I loved moments when I would stumble over one of them alone, in a nook in the house, reading a book, because they were excited about the ending. I loved when they said they liked something improbable, Brussels sprouts or arachnids or designated hitter or something like that. I loved when they prized innocence around them: a kitten, a puppy, a hatchling just fallen out of the nest. I loved when they were really competitive at field hockey or whatever, but then really earnestly shook hands with their opponents afterward. I loved when they said they loved their mom. These were all the special things, the things I loved, and what I mainly did with the kids was love these things, and mostly I did these things when you were not there.
As if on cue, Fitz’s cell phone rings, and she begins rummaging around in a purse, looking for the device. She pulls out a two-pound weight, three packs of tissues, a plastic doll, a crucifix, a Leatherman multi-tool, a travel-sized bottle of mouthwash, a Clif bar, one of those long strings of colored handkerchiefs that magicians employ, muttering Jesus Fucking Christ as she does, eye drops, mace, lipstick, a compact, a single running shoe, and, at last, a phone, which she looks at for a while, wondering how it could possibly still be ringing, when she’s holding it and it’s turned off, which causes her to realize it’s the other phone. The other phone is reserved for very special parties.
Fitz:
Can you all be quiet for a minute or two?
George IV moans in his sleep. Now total silence.
Fitz (coughing):
Yes…
Yes…
Yes…
Yes…
Yes…
Yes…
Yes…
Yes…
I understand…
Yes…
Yes…
Yes…
Yes…
(coughing)
Yes…
I understand…
Yes…
Yes…
I can be there…
Yes…
Yes…
Of course…
Yes…
Okay good…
(Long silence.)
Fitz:
Claudia, listen, honey, I’m not going to be able to go to California.
Long silence. Claudia’s body language and facial expression go through a long sequence of different reactions, in silence, from stunned to outraged to resigned to deeply upset.
George III:
Who the hell was that?
Fitz:
There’s a new counsel coming on board with some ideas about last week’s news. They want me to come to the meeting.
George III:
You resigned.
Fitz:
I know.
George III:
Resigned means resigned.
Fitz:
I know. Resigned.
George III:
To spend more time with your family.
Fitz:
I can record a live video hookup thing, Claudia. I’ll use a studio in Washington.
Claudia:
Sure.
Fitz:
Come on, you guys, it’s the fate of the nation. The goddamned fate of the nation. I have a responsibility, even if it’s just to support other people as they decide whatever it is they decide. It’s only another month or so, probably.
Claudia:
Sure, Mom.
George III (sporting a mask of pain):
Where do I drop you?
(They are pulling onto the main entrance of the airport now.)
Fitz:
Cell phone waiting area. It’s by rental cars.
George III:
I know where it is.
Fitz:
Claudia, please don’t sing the ashes of the American flags song. Please. Just promise me you won’t do that.
Claudia:
The thing you’re not getting, that you never get, is that I’m trying to do whatever I’m trying to do for other people, for people who don’t have any kind of real voice. Like, my friend is dead now, even if he wasn’t really my friend, and if I sang that song I wasn’t singing it because of whatever it is you think is in their lyrics, but because of my friend. And if I emancipated, so I could make my own decisions without having to worry about what you two, Punch and Judy, thought about my decisions, I wouldn’t be doing it for me, but for all the kids my age out in the hinterlands, like the trans kids, or the LGBTQ+ kids, or the kids who just don’t want to be Mennonites or whatever, who just want to have some say in how life goes, I’d be doing it for them. So you are hung up on what you think is in the song, and all I’m saying is I cared about someone, the person who played this song for me, and in my singing the song, the memory of that person is still there, they’re still there.
Fitz, George III, and Claudia get out of the parked car. The point of view now belongs to George IV, from whom we now get a voice-over, not from his actual mouth, but from a disembodied place, from a public address system, from somewhere out in the audience, where an actor is unseen, from outside the theater, shouting, the voice of George IV in some riff from his dream.
George IV:
Hey Claudia…I know…I’m asleep…I’m really asleep…I don’t know if I’m ever going to wake up…I might just stay here, sleeping…but I wanted to…an incredible thing really happened…yeah, I don’t really know what to say about it…but while I was asleep I went up to the land of the dead…do you think I died for a minute or something?…maybe I died…I don’t really know…maybe it was just the dream…but it was so real…I don’t know…so anyway there is a land of the dead and you can talk to the dead people there…and so you know…I wanted to see John, you know, your friend John…my friend John…and just as I was thinking he was there beside me…John was right there…seems like you just think it and then they’re there…anyway I had a lot of questions, Claudia, you know?…like I wanted to know if the dead still think of us and miss us…do the dead people dream of us like we dream of them…I guess I can’t really tell if John was actually talking…maybe it was like some kind of telepathic thing…the words just appear in your consciousness…but John said he had gotten really mature in the land of the dead…like all the kids in the land of the dead get really mature and think like adults…they stop with the childish things…like for example he said the kids develop an idea about consequences…so they feel remorse about stupid shit that they did…John felt really remorseful about his overdose…Claudia, that’s the thing…he feels really remorseful…and especially about the pain that he caused his family…and his friends, Claudia, he feels really remorseful about the pain that he caused his friends…and he said that love just radiates out of him now…he said it’s really not like anything he felt before…he feels this streaming love…like a stream of love coming out of him…and it just streams out of him and it just goes down to earth…like it’s really directional and it can just go down to the humans wherever they are…doesn’t even need like Google Earth or FedEx…just goes right down…like if a person is somewhere remote…like say they are in Ninuvut or something…still the love can travel right down there…and suffuse the person…that’s what he said…the love suffuses…like if you were standing on the Golden Gate Bridge getting ready to jump…the love suffuses…or if you were on a tennis court at the Australian Open getting walloped by some Eastern European guy in the semifinal in front of 25,000 people…the love suffuses…or if you’re a refugee from somewhere like say you were a gay person from one of those African countries where it’s illegal to be a gay person and you’re in the USA trying to get refugee status…then the love suffuses…maybe in some cases extra love comes down…because maybe it doesn’t just come from John…it comes through John…everything comes from everyone in the land of the dead…and through them…the love just comes right down…like with more dead people…John said they call themselves the deads…with more love from more of the deads there’s a greater total volume of the love…more love suffuses…so like the refugee guy from the DRC or wherever…there’s more love all of it suffusing somehow…and John said they can see the humans…but it’s more like an understanding…a complete sympathy with the humans…but there’s a detachment too…he said…they don’t need to be involved in the granular human stuff…and like I asked some questions about infinity…like, John, I said, if you’re there for infinity are you unchanging…and he said no that’s not how it goes…it’s like people kinda morph into the love suffusing, he said…bit by bit…there’s a process, see…and the deads become more vibrational than human-shaped…and apparently all around there are these vibrational nodes you know…which is the humans turning into the infinite thing…which is a sort of light beam that is a suffusing love…so that’s what John told me about that…that you feel yourself becoming an infinity thing…but also you’re a human and you let go of it…so anyway John said he wanted you to know that he was thinking of you…from the land of the dead…and he knew that you were really upset about what happened…he wanted you to know that he was thinking about you…and in your direction he and a number of deads, his acquaintance, were all suffusing love toward you…and he wanted you to know…that the deads were thinking of you…supporting you on your journey…oh and I forgot to tell you an important thing…shit, how could I forget…about foretelling the future…the deads because they are infinite for them the time past and the time future are all one time…time is just flavor, like cinnamon or something…the land of the dead is in a separate configuration…I think it’s twenty-nine dimensions, John said…a prime number anyway…sort of like the string theory thing…where it’s like a folded napkin inside of a napkin ring . . .which is inside of a box…being shipped by a truck…on an interstate in the shape of a helix…and that fold in the folded napkin is the land of the dead and in that folded napkin there’s…time is cinnamon…there’s no difference…just a big onslaught of dream images…of all the times…anyway because of all of this…it’s really crazy…but John knows about the singing thing…he knows you’re in the contest…with the singing…and he’s really rooting for you…on your journey…because you know like John and music…that’s a tight relationship…that endures…maybe John cares (even now) more about music than about any person…and especially you know…like the early recordings of the Allman Brothers Band…he said that Duane Allman is in the land of the dead and that he’s just a beam of suffusing love at this point…anyway John wanted you to know that you’re…well, you’re not going to win the contest…I’m really sorry to give you the news…but you’re not going to win . . .because you know like…there’s some real singers on there…but he also says there’s a really tiny chance that you’ll win if you sing that Wilco song called “Ashes of American Flags”…so you should really sing that one…but even if you sing that you’re probably…not going to win…some fake-ass country singer is going to win…but that’s what you get…on that show…he also said whatever you do don’t sing “When We Were Young” by Adele…that song is actually on the list of songs that is kryptonite for the deads…they really don’t like it…she he says avoid any song by Adele…she has a really good voice but for some reason they hate her…in the land of the dead…anyway Claudia that is my dream…it went on so long…I was getting all of this intel for so long…that I don’t even know…it seems like I’ve been asleep for years…since I was in middle school…I might even be dead already, Claudia…I’m just a little afraid, Claudia, that I might be already dead…do you think I’m dead already?…or am I going to pull through?
Gradually, during this song of isolation, which can be spoken or even sung, the stage lights begin to dim, during which point the hug, the molecule, that is George III and Fitz and Claudia just outside the car, is disassembled. Fitz exits toward a government limo nearby. Now Claudia and her dad climb back into the family vehicle, except that their roles are reversed. George III gets into the car, in the front passenger seat, and Claudia gets into the driver’s seat. They’re going to Short Term Parking. George III leans between the seats and looks back at his son, and pats him once on the leg, and then he looks forward again. He speaks this last line to Claudia.
George III:
Okay, you can take it from here.
Rick Moody is the author of six novels, three collections of stories, and three nonfiction works. He writes frequently about music for Salmagundi and teaches at Tufts University. He’s at work on a new collection of stories called Thirteen.
Picture Credit: Rick Moody
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