[Adastra, Luxomoris. Mark and Stephanie's rented apartment. Lunch]
Do you know what's the funniest thing that happens in life? The catalysts of chaos always sleep peacefully — and keep living as if nothing ever happened. Meanwhile, the observers — or those very participants withput any choice — barely manage to close their eyes, trying to escape their thoughts.
It was the same with Evans.
As usual, Mark didn't worry about a thing. Not about consequences, not about feelings, not about money. He slept peacefully until lunch, deaf to his father's calls, with selective amnesia about morals and rules he observed only to break them later. Sooner or later. Or always.
[The philosophy to which I aspire. Oh, take me into your arms, oh new wondrous world]
Surprisingly, he was always surrounded by decent people. One could say — even righteous.
[Ahem... well, yes, convenient for society and worthless for their higher 'Self']
No one understood why everyone was so drawn to Mark — to his eternal problems, to his lashings that struck the throat of morality. Okay, people who understand the social constructs can guess. But the fact remained: Mark was surrounded by decent people, so that everyone around him burned with blue flames from his indecency. And so at that very hour — to certainly break Mark's peaceful peace and howl at the last flashes of conscience, which most likely no longer existed. And if any remained — then about as much as fish in the pond where they had released the Channa argus.
And so, his peace was disturbed by an innocent soul (by her own evaluative judgment) —Stephanie. And moreover, from the very morning — at 11:56!
[The owls sigh in understanding, and you, my friends — early birds of dawn, sparrows — better remain silent]
— Mark, open right now! — Stephanie knocked on the door without stopping. Her knuckles would not thank her.
— Huh? — Mark slowly opened his eyes and for a few seconds just blinked, in confusion. The task was not simple: someone had come into his peace with a fierce claim and firmly believed that they had the right to do so.
— Mark! — the girl shouted even louder, almost squeaking, and hit the doorbell button with her fingers. It didn't work. Then she was already knocking with both hands, almost spilling her voice: — Why still isn't the doorbell working?!
— To neutralize the lunatics in advance... — Mark muttered, heading toward the door with a cigarette in his teeth, almost stumbling on the way. In general, it was obvious: far from the best idea — to smoke on an empty stomach, unless, of course, you wanted to get a slight dizzy effect, almost a semi-faint, or, as I call it, the 'alcohol effect'.
[Sometimes it seems to me that my brothers and sisters in smoking — the only people with a single working instinct. With a self-destruction mode activated from the very morning…~ oh, yes, forgive me, holy parents of morality itself.]
— What do you want... — opening the door, Mark leaned his shoulder against the doorframe and looked contemptuously at the girl. Funny enough, he somehow always smoked with his left hand, even though he was right-handed.
— Aren't you going to explain anything to me?! — Stefanie exclaimed, lightly nudging Mark with her shoulder. With her arms crossed, she moved toward the living room, displaying irritation and distance.
— What kind of brain-spinning is this first thing in the morning... — Mark muttered, rolling his eyes, and lazily trudged after the blonde. Clearly displeased by her appearance, he nevertheless followed her. The humor of the situation was that it was their shared apartment.
[But what can you do... sometimes even the TRULY closest person can become the most annoying if they're too much at the wrong time]
— I have a lot of questions for you, — Stephanie said sternly, arranged herself in the chair with poise and calm. Humbly, like a tycoon who conducts negotiating with potential partners.
— For example, the ones I won't want to answer? — Mark retorted, not raising his eyes to Stephanie. He clearly was not in the mood to sort things out. No wonder — after last night. Did he feel guilt? Absolutely not. And this absolute hopelessness sounded rather like a desired elixir than poison.
— You forgot what you promised me again! — the girl shouted, jumping up sharply and clenching her fists. Her gaze burned with rage, but with a trace of suffocating disappointment, as if she wanted to make sure of her importance to him.
— I promise nothing to anyone since my name is Mark! — Evans shouted, irritably crushing his cigarette on the table. Surely, the girl had touched his forbidden nerve.
[After all, everyone has a dead spot. Mine — vows about 'forever'. And yours?]
— Okay, you said... — Stephanie faltered, clearly not expecting such a reaction. Swallowing from the intense tension, she felt how the wine aroma in the air only emphasized her inner oscillations deeper. Even the best actor would not have managed to hide their deep reactions. It seemed Mark deliberately kept the aroma of red wine in the room so that everyone entering would feel the gamut of passion and relaxation, so that vices struck not the mind, but the soul.
— I say a lot of things, — Mark said with a laugh, as if not respecting himself for this trait, but he had enough audacity to admit it. And in this he was right — which made him even more irritating.
[There is no one more dangerous than a person who acknowledges their mistakes and errors]
— Ooh! Get ready and let's go! — the girl rushed to the exit, completely ignoring any Mark's resistance. The purpose of the visit was more important to her than any of his reactions; Stephanie was stubborn about what she wanted.
— Let's go! — Mark shouted irritably, grabbing the car keys. But for some reason, he didn't take the keys to the apartment. Perhaps it seemed to him that it was all still a dream.
They went out to the parking lot, and Stephanie was the first to rush to the car. The tension between them was so palpable that thoughts of safety in the shared space seemed like the last thing on their minds. Although for Mark, this was probably more the norm than the exception.
— Are you serious? — Stephanie exclaimed indignantly, sitting down in the seat. Mark's appearance in a bathrobe and sunglasses seemed to her not just absurd, but also a mockery of her status.
— If something bothers you — march home like a soldier, — Mark said calmly, almost icily, starting the car as if the trip were exactly his initiative.
— Do you even know where you're going? — Stephanie asked reproachfully, staring out the window and sighing heavily. She understood: Mark would not be ceremonious with her. Not anymore.
— No? — Mark repeated, pursing his lips into a tube and stretching lazily.
— What?! — the girl exclaimed, seemingly with more fury than there was fire in hell.
— To the mall! — Mark said, rolling his eyes, and pressed the gas. I hope he wasn't planning to play bowling with other cars, although by his mood it looked exactly like it. And what was that grim smile on his face...?
— Oh... — Stephanie exhaled, sliding down the back of the seat. Mark had managed to disrupt her mood so much that she completely forgot to fasten her seatbelt.
Ten minutes later, they arrived at the mall. But they looked like people at a community work day. Yes, the kind who went voluntarily-compulsorily. Not only did they almost not talk or interact physically, but they also demonstratively ignored each other's existence. And, believe me, such estrangement is much more noticeable than even the cutest couple.
[At what moment do relationships slide into social formality, and why do we endure it?]
They exchanged only reproaches and sarcasm —as if they had been tasked with performing a hopeless drama, not constructing a dialogue.
And suddenly Mark couldn't endure it:
— Here! Spend every last coin, but just let me breathe, — he said, extending to her the card that had been lying in his pants since his raid on the tow truck. Evans glared at Stephanie, but it wasn't pure rage — rather fatigue and a final conclusion in his mind.
— And where are you going? — Stephanie asked, deftly taking the card. Her gaze suddenly softened. It seemed that her love and privilege could be purchased for coins, as if life itself compelled her to be so expendable.
Mark simply waved his hand, turned around, and began speaking loudly on the phone. As if he were the only actor on stage, and all eyes were obliged to be fixed on him, especially during the surreal feast. As if he fed on the attention of others, not caring what kind of others' attention, not caring what kind it was. Attracting passersby's glances with his appearance alone was apparently not enough for him, so he resorted to heavier artillery — the effect of presence.
— Yes, what do you want? — Mark barked reproachfully, so loudly that the grandmother nearby even clutched her heart. She probably thought it was addressed to her.
— Where are you wandering? I signed you up for an interview, — Rei sternly put Mark to the fact. Yes, this guy didn't like to find out others' opinions, even on matters directly concerning them.
— What interview and what the hell do you want from me since early morning? — rubbing his eyes, Mark bombarded his father with counter-questions. Naturally, he was not inclined toward either the interview or such an obvious presence of a parent in his life.
— What morning?! It's already lunchtime! — Rei exclaimed in surprise and looked at his watch once more to be sure. Either his son was so scatterbrained, or he himself was getting lost in time.
— I just got up, so it's morning! — Mark replied lazily, as if stating an obvious fact.
— I don't care when you got up, you have to attend the interview! If you don't show... — Rei continued to pressure his son, and when the threats began, he noticed that Mark had already left long ago. — What the hell?
Rei tried to reach his son, but all efforts were in vain. Mark simply ignored the calls and then completely turned on 'airplane mode', so that no one would definitely interrupt his carefree days with their empty talks about important things.
— I'm in flight, — Mark muttered to himself, smiling. The barista raised her eyebrows in surprise and scratched the back of her head. Only now did he realize that all this time he had been walking straight to the coffee counter, purely driven by habit.
He glanced around cautiously. The visitors seemed not to react, or at least pretended not to.
The guy sighed and, winking at the barista, said:
— Give me something to your taste, so that I can be sure to be in flight, ha-ha.
The girl laughed and began to process the order.
[You know, they say fools get lucky, but I'll say — those who hustle harder than any tumbleweed in the desert are the lucky ones]
Meanwhile, Rei tapped his fingers irritably on the table: attempts to catch a signal from his son's phone brought no results — the device, apparently, was in 'airplane' mode. He frowned, switched focus — and on the computer started tracking not the phone, but the car's telemetry.
— So that's how it is... Alright, let's see where you are now... — he muttered through clenched teeth, clicking intently on the map with his mouse.
[That's how you buy luxury cars without a job; dealers will demand reliability. Mark didn't have reliability, but he had Rei — father-guarantor. Only, it was worth considering that although Mark bought the physical keys as a single copy, the digital ones had to be shared].
Without wasting a second, Rei threw the hat onto his head, which had been lying on the table all the time like a cowboy trophy, and the coat from the chair. It gave the impression that Rei arranged his things so he could put them on instantly at any moment — a strange habit, but as reliable as gold at all times.
When Mark stepped out of the mall, he immediately noticed his father's car, parked right at the entrance, blocking the way. Moreover, Rei started honking to make sure Mark definitely understood who was in charge here.
— What is he doing? — Mark muttered in surprise, looking at his father, who appeared just half an hour after the call. Sometimes it seemed to him that Rei had a sports car that could reach insane speeds, not him. Although, you know, Rei had an SUV.
Mark tried to go right — Rei followed; then he moved left — same story. It seemed like a chess game had been transferred into real life. Mark changed direction several times, pretending to move right, but ultimately turning left, creating chaos in the space.
In the end, he saw in the car only his father's raised eyebrow and a look, as if asking: Are you an idiot?
Rei just smoked a cigar, holding a thinker's pose, completely unperturbed. It was too comical — and therefore lifelike. All this time, the father showed with his look that he would not leave without Mark and would not let his son's 'swallow' get close.