Chapter 3

LONDON, Arthur Jenson wiped his husband's kiss off his lips.

It wasn’t that he hadn't liked the kiss or that he didn’t love his husband.  But the kiss had been a particularly wet one. The lingering wetness tickled.

After the wiping, Arthur took out his iPhone. He texted: Love you, Monkey butt.  

A moment later, he received a text in return. Love you too, skunk.

Arthur smiled.

He really loved Bernard, his tall dark and handsome TV star. He loved their relationship. He loved their private jokes. He loved how they lived together in London. He loved that they still kissed each other good-bye in the morning..

Arthur smiled again.

Then he stopped, because he heard his father's nagging voice in his head. Who needed ghosts to haunt you when you had the living to do the job?

You think your marriage is good? The Father-in-his-Head said. Get real. You've been married fourteen months. Come to me when you've been married fourteen years. You're living in a fantasy world.

It was easy for Arthur to imagine the voice and words in his head, because he had heard almost the exact thing from his father a few weeks before. His father didn’t approve of the marriage. 

It had nothing to do with it being a gay marriage. Actually, it seemed that Phillip Jenson enjoyed having a gay son. He liked parading his tolerance around Atlanta. He was proud of that almost as much as he was proud of his lifelong abstinence from alcohol.

When Arthur first came out, Phillip joined Parents for Gay Marriage. Within months he was on the board of the organization. Now he was president. Arthur couldn't have an argument with his father without being reminded of how supportive Phillip was. 

Phillip Jenson. Mr. Tolerant Father of the Year. 

What Phillip Jenson didn’t like was that Arthur had moved to London. He liked having his family close. It had been bad enough when Arthur had chosen to go to school in Los Angeles instead of Atlanta.

Then there was the mess with the wedding. Bernard had wanted to get married in Bristol where all his family lived. Arthur actually wanted that too; though he had no relatives in Bristol

Phillip had wanted the wedding in Atlanta. He wanted a gay-wedding spectacle to share with his friends, colleagues, and various admirers.

They fought over all of this.

It ended up with them having two weddings. The real one was in Atlanta. Phillip won that battle. His weapon was the fact that he paid for 100% of the Atlanta wedding and 75% of the Bristol wedding. 

Bernard had paid for 25% of the Bristol wedding.

Arthur had paid nothing. He was a struggling actor and a struggling screenwriter.

Bernard was no longer struggling. He had done a series; guest appearances on other series; and a movie. Now he starred in a new series, a dramedy about addiction. Things were going well for him.

For him, the Father-in-his Head said. Not for you.

Arthur tried to ignore his imaginary father. It was enough that he had to deal with the real version. 

The Father-in-his-Head continued. He's going to leave you eventually. Look at him. Look at you. Your face is too round. Your ears are way too big. You're too pale. Your voice isn't deep enough. You're ugly when you cry. Your burps smell disgusting.

The real version of his father had never said this stuff. But Arthur was fairly sure he had thought it. Actually, though, he had said the leaving thing…to a degree. In the midst of a huge, loud fight during his parent's visit to London, Phillip had shouted, "What are you going to do when he leaves you?"

Later Phillip apologized profusely. He also had a huge gift tower delivered to their apartment.

A few days after that, Phillip sent out one of his financial planning emails to Arthur and his sisters. They received one of these about 2-3 times a year. Phillip would talk about family being his top priority and that his favorite part of being so successful was sharing with his family. He'd then tell them that he was gifting them a certain amount of money; that there were no strings attached to this money; that all he wanted was to know his family was happy and well-taken care of.

Arthur didn’t know if it was his imagination. But he felt there was a correlation between these huge fights and the financial gifts.

Arthur wished he was successful and could tell his father to stick his money somewhere. But he wasn’t successful. He was financially dependent on his parents and his husband. He did have a job at a toy store; though only part time. He had wanted to leave time for writing and auditions.

But...he hadn’t been writing or going to auditions.

It was probably best that he try to get a full-time job. Even with a full-time job, it wouldn't keep up his lifestyle in Kensington. 

What if Bernard did leave him? Then Arthur would be completely dependent on his parents.

Bernard probably would leave him. He was a successful actor. He was hot. He had 174,000 followers on Instagram.

Arthur had only 83.

. *** 

Later that afternoon, after brainstorming screenplay ideas and coming up with nothing, Arthur walked down to the supermarket.

In their marriage, it was a given that since Bernard brought in the dough, it was Arthur's job to take that dough and do the necessary food shopping. It was up to him to keep up with the orange juice and milk.

Almond milk now, because Bernard had gone vegan.

Arthur wasn’t vegan. He wasn’t even vegetarian. But he tried to limit his meat intake to two meals a week. 

Bernard was pleased with this but not in an overbearing way. Arthur loved this about his husband. He gave kudos when you did something that pleased him but didn’t nag you when you didn’t. He was more into the carrot than the stick.

Speaking of carrots…. Bernard liked carrots. Arthur picked out a package of them and put it into the cart. 

The trolley.

He needed to stop being so American about things. If only he could pick up the lovely accent. Bernard could do that. He could easily switch back and forth between American, English, Australian, and French.

Despite being an actor, Arthur couldn’t do any accent besides his own. He could, however, do a quite decent imitation of a hungry house cat. And every time he tried to sing, he did an impressive imitation of a dying house cat.

Arthur picked up some celery. Then he moved onto the cereal aisle. He picked up some muesli for his man; then some corn flakes for himself. They had different tastes in cereal. It wasn’t that Arthur didn’t like muesli, but Bernard's brand had dates.

Arthur didn’t like dates. They were too sweet for him.  Not that he had a problem with sweet food. He loved sweet food. He just didn't like date sweetness.

He walked to the milk aisle. He picked up the almond milk and then the good old regular cow milk. 

An unsettling thought came over him; not an original thought but one that stabbed at him periodically.  He was going to pay for these groceries with money that came from his husband and father. The job at the toy store? Yes, you could say that paid for the groceries. But then you’d have to say his dad and husband bought his clothes. 

They also paid for the cable, the rent, the electricity, the restaurant meals, etc.

Arthur didn’t know how to stop depending on other people for money. But it was at this moment he realized he didn’t have to take so much money. He could minimize. He could stop spoiling himself. He could be a little less of a mooch.

He put the dairy milk back into the refrigerator case. It was wasteful to get two types of milk. Neither of them ever finished their milk. They each drank about half; then threw the rest of the cartons away. They could share.

He put his corn flakes back on the shelf. They could share the Muesli. Arthur could just pick out the dates.

He realized, though, there was a bit of failed logic here. Muesli didn’t go bad that fast. Bernard could finish it on his own. Then he'd need more cereal. Was it really saving money to skip the corn flakes? Plus corn flakes were cheaper.

Arthur decided he’d buy the corn flakes. He picked them back up off the shelf.

No. Never mind. He put them back again. He would buy the generic corn flakes.

He picked them up off the shelf and put them in the cart.

Then he had a better idea.

He took them out of the cart.

Trolly!

He put them back on the shelf. Why not skip breakfast altogether? How much money would he save if he forgo his morning bowl of cereal everyday?

The Father-in-his Head laughed. Not much, he said. Do you know how much money I give you?

Screw his father. Yes, he was right. It wouldn’t save much. But it would put a dent in things. Plus, maybe it would help him lose a little weight. He could stand to lose a few pounds.

Of course he'd have to eat. Yes, he could skip breakfast, but he wasn’t going to starve himself to death.

Death!

Arthur laughed, remembering the good old days when death actually meant something.

Maybe he should die. He'd be cheap then. Wouldn't cost anyone anything. He wouldn’t have to worry about making enough money. He wouldn’t need to be supported.

Who do you think would pay for your funeral? the Father-in-his Head asked.

Who needed funerals anymore? They still had them; though they were different. The guest-of-honor ghost usually attended via a large screen. They made a speech. The guests made a toast in their honor. Then the still-living  danced and reminisced.

Arthur wondered if funerals were ever sad anymore. Or was it just one big party?

After thinking about it for a while, he decided they'd sometimes be sad. It would be one thing losing a grandparent or favorite coworker. But what about a child losing his parent?

That would be sad. Even though Arthur sort of hated his father, he knew he would have been devastated if the guy dropped dead of a heart attack when they were younger. There was that time he fell off the tree house. Arthur had watched him fall, and he screamed in terror knowing he was about to see his father dead on the ground. But Phillip Jenson survived, and Arthur had been relieved.

As for his own death... What would it be like for Bernard if Arthur died? Could they still have a marriage?

There'd be no sex.

It wasn’t like their relationship was all about sex. But it played an important part.

Maybe Bernard could have sex with other people and pretend they were Arthur. 

A horrible thought creeped into Arthur's head. What if Bernard didn’t want to pretend his sexual partners were Arthur? 

Fortunately, this time the hurtful thought didn’t speak in his father's voice.

Groceries. Arthur decided to keep his mind on that. He wasn’t going to starve himself to death. He'd eat. But he'd pay more attention to prices. He'd buy the stuff with the lowest prices. He'd look for deals. Maybe he'd even start using coupons.

***

Arthur sat on a stool behind the counter of Brainy Fun. He looked down at his phone to see if he'd gotten any texts.

Nothing.

Which was fine.

It wasn’t like he needed to hear from anybody. He wasn’t needy.

He was just bored.

He had been here since ten. Now it was half past one.

There’d been only three customers. Only one bought something. The others just hung out.

One had been an attractive woman who talked to someone he couldn't see. In the olden days, it would have been assumed she was mentally ill. That was all before Arthur's time, but he'd heard about it. In his days, if a person talked to themselves and didn't look ragged, you looked for an earpiece. Usually they weren't talking to themselves. They were on the phone.

These days, mentally healthy people talked to the unseen with no phone in sight. They'd talk to their dead friends who they knew to be with them. Though the dead couldn’t answer back until a good internet connection was available.

 Brainy Fun didn’t provide free wifi for customers. Mobile service worked. Sometimes.

Some people simply forgot their phone. You'd think they could simply wait until they had a phone or computer. Why did they need to talk at the store?

An idea came to Arthur. Maybe they were faking it. Maybe they just wanted other people to believe they were chatting with the dead. It was a bragging point these days.

If Arthur wanted to brag, he could say his Grandma Cornelia talked to him once. It was weird seeing her. She had looked slightly younger than when he had last seen her, and she looked much more serious.

She had seemed distracted and not overly interested in talking to him. He couldn't say he had been overly eager to talk to her either. He had liked her enough in life, but they never had one of those overly warm, cozy grandparent-grandchild relationships.

Arthur figured, though, that he should probably try again someday. Everyone was doing it these days. Why be left out of the fun? Also, Maybe that was the beauty of all this. If you didn't have the best relationship when someone was alive, there was always a second chance once they had died.

He could actually FaceTime Grandma Cornelia now. His boss didn’t mind personal calls as long as there were no customers. Emily had said, when asked, "Honey, if there are no customers, I'm going to be bothered by the fact that we have no customers; not that you're FaceTiming your gorgeous husband."

Arthur looked down at his phone. He clicked on the FaceTime app, and then realized he didn’t know how to call his grandma. The last time they talked, she called him. He looked at the recent calls. He didn’t see any numbers that looked…heavenly.

He decided to text Bernard. I love you, Monkey Butt .

He waited for a response.

Waited…

Waited some more.

He started to feel pathetic. 

He should do something besides wait.

Why didn’t his own Grandma want to talk to him more? Why weren’t other dead people contacting him? Why didn’t he know how to dial the dead? Why were no customers here?

Arthur's stomach growled. He didn’t feel hungry, but maybe his stomach thought otherwise. He wondered if he should continue with the skipping breakfast plan.

His stomach growled again.

He decided to turn up the store music. Just a notch. Then he wouldn’t hear his stomach.

Mozart drowned out his growling.

He decided to pace a bit around the store. Maybe it would make the time go faster.

He looked around the shop; straightened up some electricity kits that were already straight. He picked up a Praying Mantis stuffed animal that had fallen on the floor. Fixing that caused three other stuffed animals to fall. Picking up those kept him busy for a few seconds. He tried to wipe off a smudge that was on one of the Fun Brainy informational signs.

What was that? Jam? He hoped it wasn’t snot.

Brainy Fun had informational signs for all their products. They explained how the toy would benefit the child's brain. Because what parent would dare buy their child something that wasn’t going to help their child’s brain grow. God-forbid a child just have simple fun for a change.

Brainy Fun was an American company with a few franchises in London. Arthur's father was friends with the CEO. He used his connections to get Arthur the job. Arthur wanted to get the job on his own. He had wanted the pride of doing something without his father's help. But the job fell in his lap, and Arthur had thought maybe it would be stupid to refuse it.

Bernard had said. "You got the job because of your father; but you'll keep the job and do well with it because you’re wonderful." 

That had been a nice thing for him to say.

Arthur didn’t mind working there. It could have been worse. Emily was a nice boss. She was funny, tolerant, and very easy-going. 

She was a bit too much of a Phillip Jenson fan, though.

She had met Arthur’s dad once at some business conference she attended. Maybe in Japan? Arthur's dad had led a seminar, and then Emily had been "blessed" enough to get some one on one attention with him. "He's so down to earth and so caring. And he's hilarious. You're so lucky to have him as a father. I wish my dad was like him”.

Emily's father, he'd later find out, was a drunk with a gambling addiction. His favorite pet name for Emily was "Bitchy, Whore Girl." So, in comparison….yeah. He had an awesome father.

Continue to Chapter Four 

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