Inland Empire, CA 7/17
The secret lives of others, now and then.
There’s a high school girl in a bedroom somewhere in this town that slides her dresser along the wall to retrieve a secret diary laced with traces of cocaine. An old DVD of her favorite Disney film plays in a loop on a small TV that lights the room in pastel shades of flickering light as she runs her tongue across her gums and listens to the melody of singalong songs.
In an all-American diner, heavyset men in pale blue oxford button-down shirts stride to their stools and gulp cups of watery coffee laced with bourbon poured from silver hip flasks slipped from their slack pockets. Condensation pools at the base of refrigerated OJ glasses and the waitress recommends them the corned beef hash with over easy eggs. The slurp of spiked coffee is rhythmic. Interspersed at steady intervals between illicit talk of mistresses and college girls half their age.
Californian sunlight cuts through the blinds and glistens on the silverware’s skin of grease and your favorite brand of hot sauce that rests alongside the A1 and Heinz and single-use pots of half-and-half and vanilla creamer. Sugar is king in this venue, seeping into every dish and add-on you could imagine. Diabetes must be rife amongst the clientele. Someone puts a dollar in the vintage jukebox to play a song and the melody of the old 45 swims with the spatter of bacon and eggs frying in the kitchen.
The girl in the bedroom of flickering light lights a cigarette and watches the lazy trail of smoke rise smoothly from its tip, up until the rhythm of the ceiling fans chops it through. The house is quiet at this time. A breeze from the outside world carries itself through her window. A stirring of desert air that brings tales from the mountains that rest beside the luxurious suburban homes and palm-lined highways running their course across the landscape like thick black veins.
A painting on the diner’s wall shows a 50s scene of teens dancing between the gleaming chrome of cars parked in the lot of a drive-in. The boys wear varsity jackets. The girls wear saddle shoes and gingham and polka dot dresses and seem full of joy. It’s a wholesome scene to stare at in the early hours amid the secret lives surrounding you. But you wonder. How could any time be so innocent?