Yes, his name is Rocky Horror. No, not first name Rocky, last name Horror. His first and only name is Rocky Horror. Like the Kid, he won’t tell anyone what his legal name was before what he calls “Teotwawki”—the End of the World as We Know It—and honestly why should he? Rocky Horror’s a great fucking name.
After our fist bump, he leans in and we make a loud show of kissing each other’s cheeks. He puts on a Moira Rose lilt as he speaks. “Andrew, wonderful to see you as always.”
“Isn’t it?”
He goes back to his normal, gruff voice. “No. Where’s Daph?”
“She ran to the loo.” Bathrooms don’t really exist when there’s no running water, and calling them outhouses is boring, but it’s not like I can say “brick shithouse” in front of the kids. Loo is whimsical.
One of the kids steps forward. Uh-oh, No-Filter Frank. Wanna guess why we call him that?
“What are those?” NFF points at the pink scars on Rocky Horror’s bare, hairy, tattoo-covered chest. The scars being the only part of him—at least to my knowledge—not covered by tattoos.
He opens up the vest so the kids have a better view. “That? Just some scars from surgery. But they’re old, so it doesn’t hurt anymore.”
“Especially since they put titanium over his ribs,” I add with wide eyes.
He puffs up his chest and lowers his voice. “Now no one can hurt me!” He lets out the air in his lungs and adds, “Physically, I mean. Emotionally, on the other hand...”
Before NFF or one of the other kids can ask any more questions, Rocky Horror heads over to one of the benches. As soon as he’s out of the vicinity of the playground, the kids disperse—probably realizing Rocky Horror is not going to go down the slides or play tag with them like I do. I bend down so I’m eye level with the Kid and Bobo the hippo.
“I’m going to go talk to Rocky Horror. But I want you to stay on the playground, okay?”
The Kid nods and walks off. I keep an eye on him until he sits on one of the swings.
“What’s in the bag?” I ask Rocky Horror as I sit next to him, pointing to the backpack at his feet.
“Present for Daphne.”
“Oh, so she gets a present but you still haven’t handed over Jamie’s birthday gift yet?”
He turns and stares at me in silence and, yeah, I may have walked into what I know he’s about to say. “Oh? Are we still giving Jamie his gift?”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
He shrugs and picks at dirt under one of his fingernails. “What use is a radio when you’re not talking to your boyfriend?” Jamie’s birthday is Saturday and my plan, once I was kicked off the boat, wasto have Rocky Horror put together a long-range radio that we could communicate with. But he hasn’t finished the radio yet, and we’re getting dangerously close to the boat leaving. Two things giving me anxiety.
“We talk plenty.” If the definition ofplentyis “good morning,” “good night,” “hey,” “fine,” and “I’m not hungry, thanks.”
“I’m not going to pretend I know what happened between the two of you—”
“It’s simple, he—”
Rocky Horror waves his hands at me. “Pssh, uh-uh, no thanks. I said I wasn’t going to pretend, but I also don’t care. I know both of you well enough now to know that, whatever it was, the only reason this situation has gotten as far as it has is because—even if you are talking ‘plenty’—you’re not talking about what happened.”
Yeah, he’s got me there. So I shoot back with my own dig. “A single man of your age? Forgive me if I don’t take relationship advice from you.”
“Risky read considering I could have lost a loved one during the pandemmy, but... yeah, I was single, so maybe you’re right. But if you want some non-relationship advice, stop letting it distract you and live your life. Figure out the Jamie shit on your own time.”
“I’m not distracted.”
“According to teacher’s pet”—he nods in Taylor’s direction—“you can barely be trusted to watch the kids.”
“Gossipy little shit. The Kid’s different. He’s always sneaking off to find fresh water for Bobo.”
Rocky Horror—a mannamedRocky Horror—has the sheeraudacity to arch an eyebrow at the name Bobo. I double-check to make sure the Kid is still on the swing.
“These kids cramp my style,” he says. “I don’t know how you do it.”
