Glossing Over the Rough Spots

“Hello?”

“Yeah, hey kiddo, it’s me.”

“Dad? Where are you calling from? I don’t recognize this number.”

“Yeah, it’s not my phone. I’m in jail. Listen son, I–”

“–Wait, what!? What do you mean you’re in jail!?”

“Oh, it’s this whole big stupid thing. Anyway, I need you to wire some money–”

“–Dad! Why are you in jail?”

“Because of my damn sunscreen, that’s why. I guess it was too American for the locals and didn’t meet their commie quota.”

“What are you even talking about? Your sunscreen? You’re not making any sense!”

“Yeah, apparently they have some kind of ban, and my sunscreen had too many chemicals in it. Like, too much OxyContin or oxygen or whatever. Said it was bad for reefs. Said I was racist against fish.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Well, that’s when you discriminate against a group of–”

“No, I know what racism means!”

“And I’m not racist against fish.”

“I mean – Christ! – did they seriously arrest you for wearing the wrong sunscreen!?”

“Well…”

“Well?”

“Not exactly. The sunscreen thing comes with a fine, which is why I was calling.”

“So how’d you end up in jail?”

“There’s a teeny chance I might just maybe have also punched a cop.”

“Oh for crap’s sake.”

“Look, I didn’t know, okay? I thought it was just some two-bit resort security asshole.”

“So when you punched a cop, you thought you were actually punching a security guard?”

“Right!”

“And you thought punching a security guard was okay because?”

“Look – oh, shut up! Stop trying to change the subject. This whole trip has been such a nightmare, I swear it’s the last time we visit some third-world hellhole.”

“Dad! Hawaii is part of the U.S.!”

“Is it?”

“Yes!”

“…”

“Dad?”

“Well, whatever. Point is, I need you to wire me some cash.”

“I… jeez. Okay, how much – wait a sec, where’s Mom?”

“…”

“Dad!”

“I don’t know.”

“What do you mean, you don’t know where Mom is?”

“I lost her.”

“Lost her!?”

“We kind of had a fight.”

“Oh my god, you didn’t punch her too!”

“Of course not! Don’t get smart. No, as usual she blew something completely out of proportion and overreacted to the smallest thing. See, there’s this restaurant across the street from the hotel – a nice open-air seafood thing. And there’s this one waitress which – and you gotta understand, they wear these little grass skirts and not much else – she’s got a nice smile and a fantastic rack–”

“Dad!”

“–and her legs, hoo boy! Let me tell you, they’re–”

“Please stop talking.”

“–and it’s perfectly normal for a man’s eye to go roaming! But when I told your mom that while I was looking at the waitress, I was thinking of her, well, she chose to throw a tantrum anyway, because she’s unreasonable. And oh man, those legs! You know, I’ve always been a thigh guy myself, and they reminded me of the milky smooth thighs of your mother–”

“DAD!”

“No, son, I want you to hear this. Back when I met her, your mother’s thighs were the very definition of silk–”

“Ohmygodimhangingupnow.”

“Wait wait wait! Sheesh, fine, I’ll stop, just don’t hang up. Ah, boy, I think I really screwed the pooch on this one. Let me tell you, if I could turn the clock back…”

“Then you wouldn’t punch a cop?”

“Yeah, probably not. You know, this whole trip was supposed to be a kind of reset button for me and your mom. Retirement’s been surprisingly stressful, and I just thought, a couple weeks on the beach might be like our honeymoon. Back like in the good old days, when things were simpler and we were wild and young and in love and – what’s that noise?”

“Oh, I’m getting another call. I’m going to put you on hold for a moment.”

“No, don’t you dare! I’m in jail and I need money and–”

“Hi Mom.”

“Well hello dearie! Now, I don’t mean to worry you or anything, but have you maybe heard from your father recently? I can’t seem to get through to his phone.”

“Yeah, I’m actually chatting to him right now, on the other line.”

“Oh, that’s such a relief! It doesn’t seem to matter how many times we go through it, he just can’t remember how to use any of the features of his cellphone.”

“He’s not on his cell, Mom–”

“I honestly think he was happier in the days of rotaries. ‘When a phone was a phone,’ he always says, ‘and not a clock and VCR too.’ Oh, that reminds me of the most darling little figurine I found at the tourist market. It’s made of clay and has a big cute smile and a ukulele and–”

“Mom! Dad’s in jail.”

“Oh for Pete’s sake! I just knew he’d go and do something like this. I just knew it! My horoscope even said, ‘someone close to you might inadvertently stymie your artistic growth.’ And before that, it said I’d have artistic inspiration today and wouldn’t you know it? I spent all morning thinking about how maybe I’d like to sign up for those painting lessons at the community centre. And I didn’t even know what stymie meant, but when I looked it up, that’s exactly what he did.”

“Mom, what are you talking about?”

“I just want to know where the romance went. I thought – I don’t know. Things would be pleasanter after retirement. It’s like we have to relearn everything, and it would be so much easier if we could just go back in time. Or maybe that’s wrong. Maybe it always took work and I’m glossing over the rough spots. Maybe that’s the charm! Why’s he in jail anyway?”

“Used the wrong sunscreen.”

“I told him not to buy the cheap stuff.”

“He needs money for the fine. And honestly, I don’t even know what a ‘wire transfer’ is. Can you talk with him?”

“Yes, that’s for the best. Which jail is he staying at?”

“I’ve got him on the other line. I’ll do a group chat thing.”

“–because they were importing the grapes when we had perfectly good cranberries right at home! But did the senator listen? Let me tell you–”

“Dad!”

“Yeah?”

“I’ve got Mom on the line.”

“…”

“…”

“Heya, honey.”

“Hello, dear.”

“I’ll leave you two to it. Have a good rest of your vacation! Bye!”