This is the opening of my new novel, The Lost Generation (available here).
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PROLOGUE - 1999
The final dying sounds of daytime came to an end as Barry drove his wife and child in the family car.
“Careful,” Emily said. “We want to live to see the next millennium, right?”
Barry smiled and gently put a palm on her hand.
“It’s just a little snow honey, I wasn’t driving fast.”
“Okay, okay.”
“How are we doing back there Robbie?”
Too distracted by his Goosebumps paperback to hear, he didn’t answer.
“Robbie?”
“Huh?”
“You should take it easy on your eyes.”
The boy looked up.
“What?”
“We’re almost there. Why not take a rest with that stuff for now, Robbie?”
“Okay, dad. Lemme just finish my sentence.”
Barry smiled and nodded, proud of the boy he was looking at in the rearview mirror.
“I like your attitude. You’re gonna do great things one day.”
Robbie smiled back despite not really grasping what his father’s sentiment meant exactly. He was 7 years old: his metric for success was yet to be developed. Barry was aware of this, but as a father he still thought the encouragement was a good thing. Due to a parenting book Emily suggested he read, Barry made an effort to support his son’s confidence whenever he could. In the 90s, the author argued, positive reinforcement would be the defining movement crucial for the youth’s development. Self-esteem building would prove to be very beneficial, all the leading experts of the day stressed.
“We’re here.”
“Can I bring my book with me?”
“Robbie, you know you’re always allowed to read whenever you want. But this is a party. Try and make friends with the other kids.”
In the large house he found himself in, Robbie listened to adults have more conversations he did not understand. As they discussed things and used words like “finance” and phrases like “the daily grind,” he grew increasingly bored.
“Look who it is! How’ve you been, Barry?”
“Can’t complain, Joe. It’s been a pretty good year.”
“That’s good. Same for me, business is going good.”
“Things are going great. Feels like I was here just the other day for last year’s party.”
“Yeah. Time sure is going fast.”
“Before you know it.....in a couple of years the kids will be in high school. Then college. We’re getting old.”
“Speak for yourself!”
“Haha!”
At that moment one of the other fathers came up behind Barry and punched him on the shoulder playfully.
“Hey! Frank. Didn’t think you’d show!” Barry turned around and said.
Frank began shadowboxing Barry and the other father.
“Tyson and Holyfield over here!” another father yelled out mirthfully.
“Yeah, if you don’t watch it I’ll bite your ear off!” said Frank.
“Ugh,” Emily said, “You guys are still talking about that stupid fight? It’s been 2 years, Jesus.”
“When she’s right, she’s right.”
Unable to stand the boredom any longer, Robbie wandered through the house. Past the expensive bottles of Glenfiddich, and other brands he recognized as being off-limits to him, he soon bumped into someone his own age, finally happy to have a new friend.
“Hey, you’re Robbie, right?”
“Yeah, who are you?”
“Colin. They told you were coming. Come on, let’s go upstairs and watch TV. It’s boring down here. You like The Simpsons?”
“Yeah I do! My mom doesn’t let me watch it though.”
“Are you serious? It’s a cartoon. Come on.”
“She says it’s got a lot of adult humor. I’m not even really allowed to play video games.”
“Really? Why?”
“She says it makes kids dumber.”
“So you’ve never played anything?”
“When I’m at a cousin’s house or something. I like Super Mario Brothers. And I’ve played Contra, that game rules.”
“Nice.”
“It’s okay though, I prefer reading anyway. My mom calls that the smart medium.”
Robbie followed this Colin boy up the stairs, eventually being taken to a small bedroom where a couple other kids were hanging out, already laughing at something stupid Bart was doing on TV.
“It’s the one with Michael Jackson.”
“I love this episode.”
“Hey guys, this is Robbie.”
“Shush! I can’t hear!” someone responded.
“Cool room,” Robbie said, trying to be nice.
“It’s not mine, it’s my sister’s,” said Colin, gesturing at the Titanic poster on the pink wallpaper. Robbie recognized it immediately as it was one of the few movies his father had rented from the video store with a running time so long it required 3 VHS tapes. It also stood out to him for the simple reason that it was the first time he had ever seen a naked woman in a movie before.
“Nice poster,” Robbie offered.
“Thanks. That’s my husband. I’m gonna marry Leo someday,” said Colin’s sister.
“Shut up! I’m trying to watch,” said someone.
“They’re gonna show Beavis and Butthead after this,” another voice said.
“That’s Mark and Tommy,” said Colin, trying to salvage the messy introductions.
Robbie struggled to get a word in, so he silently watched the room of kids. In some ways, they were a lot more interesting than what was on television. He wondered what their lives were like for a second. He wondered if they ever felt as odd as he did. Then, for some reason he couldn’t place, he felt incredibly lonely; to be in this strange room with these weird kids he didn’t really know made him feel hollow inside. Feeling lonely around other people was somehow worse. He couldn’t wait to go back home.
“Hey you wanna see something?” Colin asked.
“Uh...yeah, sure. I guess.”
Colin slid a magazine out from underneath the bed.
“Check this out.”
Robbie looked at the woman adorning the cover in a provocative pose, then back at his new friend, struggling to understand how he was supposed to be reacting.
“It’s a Playboy. I found it in the woods one day. Isn’t this crazy?”
“Wow....”
Robbie looked at the magazine again, and felt like he was holding something incredibly dangerous that could get him put behind bars. He started sweating.
“I mean,” Colin continued, “Usually I only have access to stuff like the Sears catalogue, but this? Crazy right?”
“Yeah, haha. Crazy.”
“I think some dude’s older brother down the street got in trouble. His mom found his stash, so he dumped it all in the woods.”
“I can see that,” Robbie said, wiping away some of the remaining dirt from a woman’s tit.
Downstairs, the adults continued to chatter about work and their children. One of the fathers was in the middle of a long story about someone with a weird personality at his office. He did his impersonation of the person’s voice, and really went for it with all of his limited talent.
“Oh Tom, I don’t think that’s appropriate.”
“Ahhh, lay off. It’s just jokes, that’s all.”
Boisterous, heavy laughter filled the suburban home. It was the sound of carefree adults without any real problems; the drinks were flowing, they were drunk, and nothing was wrong. Barry got up to refill his glass with more scotch.
From the kitchen, he could still hear the other parents laughing. He smiled to himself. It was nice to be part of something like this, it felt like he was honoring some kind of tradition. Barry felt like a character in a classic American painting. There he was: a husband with a nice wife, enjoying a glass of rare scotch at a colleague’s house on New Year’s Eve. Everything about his life was working out. Maybe it was the alcohol, but he felt a little emotional thinking about it. He looked around to make sure no one was looking at him.
The sound of The Backstreet Boys came blaring from the other room. The audience on TV cheered wildly.
“Oh my god: we’re back again!!!” they sang.
“My kid loves these guys. I don’t see the appeal.”
“Maybe he’s a little light in the loafers.”
“Tom! That’s enough!!”
Barry allowed himself a moment to enjoy the scotch in peace without the company of others. From the corner of his eye, he saw something move in the backyard. He looked out the screen door in the kitchen to see what appeared to be a cat prowling. On even closer inspection, Barry could see what the animal was after: it was stalking a chubby rabbit, only slightly smaller than the feline. The rabbit was cornered near the backyard’s back fence. With nowhere left for the poor creature to go, the cat was about to pounce.
“Everybodaaaayahhhh,” The Backstreet Boys sang in the background.
The parents laughed.
“They sound like a buncha fuckin’ assholes.”
“Rock your bodaaaaaayyahhh,” they sang.
“Whatever pays the bills. Their parents must be proud. I wish I could make money dancing around like an idiot.”
The fathers in the room looked at the effeminate men on television with curiosity. For men who grew up wanting to be cowboys, it was a strange sight.
“We better call the kids for the countdown. They’re gonna be pissed if they miss it.”
“Everybodaaaayahhh.....Rock your body right!”
“Yeah, last year I didn’t wake my kid up. Never heard the end of it.”
“Backstreet’s back....Alright!”
He could hear excitement increasing in the background as the famous boy band performed to raucous cheers. Barry knew he should have returned to the group, but he wanted to see how things would play out in the backyard.
“KIDS! The ball is dropping soon!”
“Mark! Jamie! You’re gonna miss it!!” another father yelled.
After a moment, the kids all thundered down the steps with glee.
Colin, Robbie, Mark, and all the others raced down so fast one would have thought there was some kind of prize.
Barry remained glued to the deadly scene unfolding before him. With terror in its eyes, the rabbit looked at the cat as it inched closer. The rabbit looked like it was accepting its fate, slowly coming to grips with the fact that this was the end.
“I tell ya, they can’t wait! It’s only 5 minutes away,” Dick Clark said on the television.
Emily entered the kitchen to find Barry looking outside the backyard. She thought about asking him to return to the living room for the countdown, but for some reason she couldn’t bring herself to. He looked like he was in deep thought about something she didn’t want to interrupt. Whatever it was seemed important. She walked away.
“Say hi to mom! She’s watchin’ ya on TV!” Dick Clark kept the commentary going.
The rabbit looked up in total submission, saying “kill me” with its eyes.
“2 minutes and 20 seconds. Every single person in this crowd is watching for that thing to move. It’s all computerized now.....In the old days.....it was a nylon clothes cord and 3 guys........but it’s all computerized now......”
The confrontation was swift and brutal: the rabbit made one final attempt to run, but the cat had it trapped. As if anticipating the creature’s next move, the cat leapt to where the rabbit tried to jump, landing there a split second before the rabbit had the chance. The cat then sunk its fangs deeply in the rabbit’s neck, carrying it away by the scruff.
“Get close to someone ya love! In 25 seconds it’ll be the new year!”
Before disappearing into the mysterious night completely, the cat made eye contact with Barry. It held this hypnotic gaze with him, before the rabbit twitched him back to action, reminding him of his conquest. He darted off with his prey.
“6! 5! 4! 3! 2! 1! Happy 2000!!!”
Barry returned to the living room feeling shaken, but found his wife and gave her a big kiss. He took a look at his friends: the rest of the parents were beaming with joy, filled with optimism for the upcoming millennium. An image of the cat chewing on the rabbit’s lifeless corpse flashed through Barry’s mind. He tried to shake it off and think of better things.
Everyone looked absolutely thrilled to see what was around the corner, hopeful about what they felt was going to be the best era of their lives yet. The 2000s, they thought, signaled the dawning of a prosperous new decade. The happiness was contagious and in the air: people in Times Square were yelling with joy. The adults and children all looked at the TV as if they knew exactly what life had in store for them: nothing but good fortune. They couldn’t be more wrong.
