Page 23 of The Leaves In Autumn
“Come on, now. Can’t you think of a better way to express yourself?”
My own words, to him at twelve, come back and take a bite out of my ass. Something bigger than me or my son is the problem here. Ted’s Sometime’s Excellent Adventure has gone viral. It is hard to understand what two point three million followers see in his telling of an everyday, ordinary life. All those people think being voyeur is better than enjoying their own realities. The watched is watching in a circle jerk of attention.
Like that old Jim Carrey movie where the whole country was getting off watching his every second. But that character didn’t know it. And when he did, he planned an escape. Now the story seems prophetic. I’ll consider running away too, if this gets much worse.
Barbra says half of the appeal is Teddy’s looks, the other half the house. Sure, she’s right. An architect should have a home that reflects his understanding of balance and creative expression. Mine does. And as far as Teddy’s looks? He’s a Lyon. No vanity, just fact. Young, old, he has a lot of women and men looking.
He likes showing me the comments about his hair and face and body. What does constant validation do to a young mind? I wonder how vulnerable he is being. But he is twenty. My reach has been severely shortened and I know it.
To a certain extent, my generation, and especially those before, only revealed what we wanted to be seen. I had a phone at a pretty young age. A computer. But we didn’t grow up with them, which gave us time to know ourselves better. Many things were still kept private.
This generation shows it all. I do not see that ending well. Things you think are funny at twenty, are embarrassing or horrifying at thirty. In fact, you want to forget they even happened. And you can sometimes, because there isn’t any lingering proof. Revisionist history can be a tool, when the ugly truth is too painful to think of every day. Or when you want to keep it to yourself. It is a protection.
From here on, there will be no deleting what they have shown, and it will follow them for the rest of their lives. But try to tell them. Life can be hard enough without being constantly reminded what a jackass you can be. And were.
I snap out of my worries and into dad-speak. Walking down the stone path, I shoot my last cannon over a shoulder.
“We’re leaving without you.”
The words have no effect anymore. That ploy only worked for his first fourteen years anyway. The next six have not been so easy to manipulate. I want to scream but it would be recorded.
The back door of the limousine swings open. Familiar music tumbles out, and the voices that know every word. A collectiveIt’s about damn time!brings laughter and three claps. Lizzo’s ubiquitous hit makes me want to dance in my Balenciaga’s. Like the people online who have recreated it, ad nauseam. I have seen so many; the routine is burned in my brain. Okay. I admitthatkind of thing is fun to watch on TikTok. Won’t be telling Teddy his father can be a hypocrite. I would lose my moral high ground.
“Aargon and Teddy are in the house! Whoop, whoop!”
I climb in and find a space all the way back, between David and Layla. Teddy follows and squeezes next to Sam and Tyler. Everyone looks very cool in their rock wear best. TheI am still young and hipclothes. Leather, lace, expensive pieces, torn jeans. We are putting it out tonight.
The boys have a more relaxed look. AnI don’t have to try so hardthing. The music is turned down as the car pulls away from the curb.
“Ready to party?” Scarlett keeps dancing in her seat to the barely heard song. “It’s about damn time!”
“Let me get you doing that Auntie,” Teddy says, pointing the cell.
I cover the screen with my hand.
“What did I say?”
“Come on! This is good stuff!”
My family finds it amusing. Nobel joins the conversation.
“Not in here. Do it at the concert. Dove will post it on her account if her social media guy doesn’t find anything too revealing. Or libelous. Anything the family wouldn’t want shown. We need to think of those things.”
“Sure. Yeah.”
“And here’s a tip. The new single. That’s the one management wants to promote.”
You would have thought my son was just presented the keys to the kingdom.
“Thanks, Uncle Nobel. Oh man, that’s great. I’ll get it for sure.”
“Mom and Dad will be watching that we don’t embarrass ourselves.”
“Jesus, Scarlett. Most of us are in our forties in case you missed it. I’m going to be me,” Van says defiantly.
“You do you, boo.”
“How come Aurora and Gaston went early?” David asks.
