Steve Toltz - Quicksand

Steve Toltz was born in Sydney, Australia. A Fraction of the Whole, his first novel, was released in 2008 to widespread critical acclaim. It was shortlisted for the 2008 Man Booker Prize and the 2008 Guardian First Book Award. He currently lives in New York.

Down at the foamy shoreline, where small tight waves explode against black rocks, a lifeguard with feet wedged in the wet and vaguely tangerine sand stands shirtless like a magnificent sea-Jesus. An ill-timed journey into a breaker knocks a boy on his little back. A bald man throws a tennis ball for his Labrador and a second, unrelated dog bounds in after it. Through a gauze of mist a brunette tall, and from where were sitting seemingly riddled with breasts kicks water on the sunlit torso of her blond companion.

There are three other drinkers in the place, already tethered to the sunbleached bar. It is eleven a.m. Slumped in his cumbersome mechanised wheelchair that squeaks somewhere down by the left back wheel when hes doing pressure lifts, Aldo squints out from sand-whipped windows into the tumour of searing light. He turns to me and says, Im nobodys muse.

I think: Thats a great line right there. I take out my notebook and when he shoots me an outraged look I say, Thats right, motherfucker. Im writing it down.

Aldo wipes the condensation off his beer glass and uses it to moisten his lips.

I know youre tired of being fodder, but for me to finish this book, I confess, I need at the most your blessing and at the least unrestricted access to your innermost thoughts and feelings you know, fantasies secreted inside secret fantasies I already know about, that kind of thing.

Jesus, Liam. You even take mocking yourself too seriously.

I am serious.

We sort of leer mildly at each other in the mirrored bar.

This book, I say, will help you laugh at yourself again.

I still laugh at myself.

Not in proportion to how hilarious you are. Come on, Aldo. Whered your sense of humour go?

I know where it went, but on only his second morning out of prison I want to see if he will dare articulate it.

He doesnt only dams a sudden gush of saliva with his sleeve and when his face reddens in embarrassment I go rigid myself.

You know, I murmur, you could sue the state. Failing their duty of care.

He turns to me abruptly and pretends to startle our old gag and explains how justice is either impersonal and indifferent or extremely personal and shamelessly vindictive, and how finding yourself in front of our volatile jury system means submitting your fate to a bunch of people whose omelettes you wouldnt dream of eating for fear they hadnt washed their hands.

Aldo sets his mouth tight as I scribble that line, and add: he says, with the eyes of a croupier doing back-to-back shifts. Down the bar, a man with a long ponytail who looks sunk in his own epic tale of woe gapes at us unapologetically.

Aldo says, Have you ever had a woman say to you, Oh, you sad little man?

Not in those exact words.

He rotates his chair 180 degrees and shouts, I recommend it to all women as a way to totally annihilate a person!

The bartender says, Can you two keep it down?

I ask, Who called you a sad little man?

Aldo is chewing something, maybe a part of his own mouth. I ask, Was it Mimi? Was it Stella? Was it Saffron? He shakes his head. I ask, Was it your physiotherapist? Was it your lawyer? Please tell me it wasnt that ear-candling woman.

Aldos face is that of a child woken by lightning. He says, Why should I let you write about me?

Because youll inspire people. To count their blessings.

His smile, when it arrives, is already vanishing. Hang on, he says, without inflection, and I know whats coming before its uttered. Ive just had an idea to take to market.

Oh?

I settle in and listen to the patter of seagulls webbed feet on the skylight. Two patrons loud-slurp and emit full-bodied beer-advert Ahhhhs. Halfway out Aldos mouth, soft bubbling sounds that dont mean anything. The look on your face, he says, reminds me of that waiting period between the guilty verdict and the sentencing.

Just tell me your idea.

You know how we are such optimists even our Armageddons arent final?

What do you mean?

Its post-apocalypse this, post-zombie-apocalypse that. People are honestly fretting about what to do after the end-times.

Right. So?

So you know the slight embarrassment you feel for someone who says they never think about death?

Yeah.

You know how its weird that people will trust any old block of ice in their drinks?

Yeah.

You know how people are worried their kids going to turn to them and say, What did you do to the biosphere, Daddy?

I laugh. True.

You know how people used to want to be rock stars, but now they just want rock stars to play at their birthday parties?

Uh-huh.

You know how we now think pornography is free speech?

Like, I dont agree with tentacle sex but Ill die for your right to produce it?

Right. And we always knew people hated their freedom, but now we know theyre also contemptuous of privacy?

Sure.

And you know how theres no replacement cycle too short for todays consumer?

Of course.

And how now we have the internet you cant say, You aint seen nothing yet anymore since everyones seen everything by the age of twelve?

Yep.

And people are spooked that good and evil no longer struggle but just work different shifts?

Uh maybe.

His eyes tour the room and return to me, renewed. You know how the phrase At least you have your health now refers to the state of your organs as commodities you can sell in a pinch?

Nobody thinks it means that.

And how in our lifetimes well see the actual end of patience?

His eyes probe my face for signs of impact.

OK. Yep.

The ideas bloom and flare, bloom and flare. His fingers drum-roll on the bar and end in a finger-snap. You know how people divide the world into white privilege and black oppression, and never mention Asians or Indians whore like, half the planet?

Uh-huh.

You know how a surprisingly huge number of people like fake leather?

Yes.

And how people actually believe the obstacle to happiness is that they dont love themselves enough?

Sure.

And how when someones coping mechanism fails, they just keep using it anyway?

Yeah.

And how businesssapiens are always having power-nightmares?

Theyre having what?

Bad dreams during power naps.

If you say so.

Now he looks like a dog who has chewed through his leash and is waiting to pounce.

You know how people still believe that happy couples dont have affairs?

Uh-huh.

And modern relationships are more like, Ill be alone with your thoughts if youll be alone with mine?

Sure.

You know how while were enjoying reading dystopian fiction, for half our population this society is dystopia?

Aldo.

Wait. You know how our fear of turning into our parents has become the fear of inheriting copies of their genetic mutations?

Aldo.

Hold on. You know how nobody who complains about income inequality thinks they personally have too much money?

Aldo.

Just wait. You know how when people talk of First World problems they forget to mention Alzheimers and dementia?

Can you

Wait! A mouthful of beer spills onto his shirt. You know how were still stuck with this prehistoric flight-or-fight mechanism and now our bodies pointlessly secrete cortisol when were just running for the bus?