This Boy's Journey

Chapter Four: A Room With A View

The plane ride went smoothly. I listened to a customized playlist of songs to put me in the Los Angeles mood. Some were obvious like "California Love" by Tupac and other songs that just give me that vibe like "Spider Webs" by No Doubt. It's my ritual when I go to write a new story; it helps me get into the mood to create works that hit the right note so to speak.

Michael listened to an audiobook about dadaism, which is art with a social message that's meant to disrupt art itself. The point of it is to capture the randomness of life in art because life is random. You can't foretell everything perfectly and they present these nonconforming aspects in their work. It's a circuitous and interesting topic.

We took an Uber to our place in Santa Monica. It was a two-bedroom and fully furnished with ultra-modern aesthetics, mostly white with pops of color and sharp edges everywhere. One wrong step and that's an artery. There's a hanging flat screen in the living room and a glass table that dips like a wave. It doesn't look practical, but I'm grateful for it. We take ourselves on a tour of the place, commenting on how it feels like we're living in the future which inevitably led to us talking about the nature of time, then went to our rooms to get settled. My bedroom had a glass desk, a platform bed with black sheets, and a walk-in closet. My favorite part was the floor-length windows with automated curtains that gives me a great view of the city.

I walk over to the bed and fall back on it, holding the back of my head to support it and staring up at the spherical chandelier that has bulbs that remind me of a solar system of stars. I relax my body completely and sink comfortably into the soft mattress. I haven't fully relaxed in years from all the stress that's been building. That's what adulthood does to you, it pulls you deeper and deeper into its clutches and it becomes harder to stay bright in a dark world.

Michael comes to my room an hour later. I'm at my desk reading the pilot script for the show for the hundredth time. He swings in and smiles like he's a friendly neighbor on a cheesy sitcom. When he does it it's cute though.

"How are you liking your digs?" he asks. "Why don't people say digs anymore?"

"I don't know," I say, "but you should bring it back. It's really nice. The mattress is ridiculously comfortable. It's like sleeping on a cloud."

"They pulled it down themselves to make them actually." Michael comes inside fully and walks to the desk. "So, you want to go get something to eat? Practically everything around here is vegan, but I'm sure we can scavenge for meat like the cavemen do."

"I would, but I'm supposed to be meeting my sister for lunch."

"Your sister lives here?" Michael asks, stunned.

"Yeah, didn't I mention it?" I pull my hands away from my keyboard and give him my full attention. I really thought that I mentioned it. That's the other side effect of depression that not everyone knows about, memory loss. I'm a very forgetful person; I can name every Pokémon in existence and I can recall lyrics to songs I haven't heard in ages, but when it comes to the day-to-day things, my mind slips. I'll have my house keys in my hand one minute, and in the next I completely forget where I set them down. It's highly aggravating.

"Well, that's cool, man. Have fun with your sister, Andrea was it?"

"That's the one. She has a boutique on Main Street." Andrea has a successful clothing business, Magic Mirror, and she's amazing at it. She had a talent for passion ever since she was a child playing dress-up and putting on runway shows for her Barbie's. She's seen as my talents have manifested and she's one of the very few that I can truly confide in.

"Nifty," Michael says, walking back to the door. "Just be back before seven. We're having an unofficial meeting with the writers and the financier himself."

"Will do." I smile as he leaves the room, then get ready to meet Andrea.

I meet my sister half an hour later at Palisades Park once she's done with work. Since she's the boss she creates her own schedule. She's wearing a faux fur purple jacket, black tank and cheetah print skirt with black combat boots. I can't really judge her on her wardrobe because I'm wearing a brown vest without a shirt underneath and ripped light denim. When in California...

"I'm so glad you're here now!" she says, locking her arm with mine as we walk down the sidewalk that's wide enough to accommodate people and bicyclists. "Walks, picnics, gossip. Is there anything more to life?"

"Absolutely not," I say, as we pass by palm trees on our right side and the view of the beach to our left. "How's your business?"

"It couldn't be going any better," she throws one of her brown locks over her shoulder proudly. "We're up five percent this quarter so, you know, she's killing it."

"I'm proud of you."

"I wish you had told me earlier you were coming, I could've planned something fun for us."

"This all happened last minute." I could've done a better job of telling her. I'm not good at keeping up with people if they're not in my direct line of sight. It's hard enough keeping my spirits up and managing other people's emotions are too daunting. It's something that I really want to work on.

"All is forgiven," Andrea says quickly, as if she wants to move on to the next subject immediately. She unlocks her arm with mine and walks backward in front of me with a mischievous smile. "So, how's your love life?"

"What love life?" I scoff and look away.

"Even if you're not with someone there's someone you have your eye on. There always is."

I keep looking away and a smile comes across my face.

"See! Who is he?"

I stop walking and so does Andrea, with a look of victory written all over her face. "His name's Michael, he gave me this opportunity, but I'm not really looking for a relationship right now. I mean, I liked him at one point, but this is strictly professional. I'm not looking for love I want a career."

"Who said anything about love?" she asks. "You didn't come out until halfway through college, you still have time to make up for. Dating around, kissing boys."

I laugh and shake my head. "There are more important things in life other than boys."

Andrea comes back by my side and we start walking again. "You've already got the career, now it's time for fun."

Once she finishes grilling me, we have lunch at a taco truck that was even better than Austin's. I'm keeping this to myself, otherwise, Austinites would call me a traitor, then I head back home to meet up with the writers and the EP. I've talked to them via e-mail and Skype and they all seem pretty cool. It's frustrating being the only black guy among four other ones, but I'd like to think that once I'm in the door and start climbing up the ladder I can make more room for other people of color. That's another burden you have to face when you're not only trying to make it as a creator but a creator of color. No matter what you do, there's always a mountain to climb.