“What is your houseboy doing?” Reginald asks, twisting in his patio chair to get a look at the source of the sound of someone making loud raspberries.
I crane my neck to find Oren through the guests mingling in my spacious backyard. “…I have no idea. Whatever it is, it’s not what he’s supposed to be doing. He knows better, what on Earth is he up to?”
Will, who is standing off to the side behind Reginald starts snickering, then as he watches Oren dissolves into laughter.
“What is so funny Will?” Reginald insists. “You know something don’t you? …You do! What is it?”
“Will, what did you do my boy?” I rise from my chair.
It takes Will a few moments to compose himself, because every time he looks at me he loses it again. I’m about to throw a shoe at him when he finally spits it out. “I gave him one of the pot brownies! The strong ones, that Linda made for your brother.”
Color rises in my face. “What? What? You DRUGGED him?” Reginald rushes to his feet to keep me from punching Will. “YOU DRUGGED Oren? You asshole. Those weren’t your brownies, those were for Dean! And you gave him drugs for the first time without any supervision, and you violated the rule of not feeding him! I told you he’s hypoglycemic – sweets have to be – ..why am I talking to you about this? You have 30 seconds to leave my property of you will be escorted off.”
I turn my back to him and rush over to Oren. It’s quite obvious he’s gotten something in his system – the dopey look on his face, the vague sheen to his eyes. “Hey Sir.” He drawls. “Look how green this is…it’s like really green. And it vibrates when I do this.” He blows a raspberry on it again. “Pretty cool,” he giggles.
A couple guests stare. I gently work the balloon from his fingers and sigh. “Oren, did you eat a brownie?”
He looks confused, and shuffles his feet. “Will said you wanted me to eat it, Sir. Said you said to keep my blood sugar up.”
“Will is a lying bastard, and those brownies had pot in them.”
“Ohh…that explains why I feel weird.” He pokes the balloon in my hands and starts giggling.
“Are you going to faint?”
Oren doesn’t answer, he just keeps petting the balloon.
Reginald chimes in. “He’s bloody useless.”
“Great,” I sigh. “My houseboy is high, and there is no one to watch my guests.”
Reginald puts a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “I’ll take care of them, make sure everyone is watered and the trash is cleared. You take care of Oren.”
I give him a grateful look. “Many thanks Reginald. Is Will gone?”
He glances around. “Yes. That bastard. I’m sorry – I shouldn’t have invited him.”
“You can’t always know how people will act, Reg, don’t worry. I’m just…concerned, mostly. Alright, Oren, come with me.”
“But,….it’s so pretty out here.”
I take a deep breath and count to 3. Apparently being high has made him completely disregard all his training. I’m both furious at being disrespected and irritated because it’s not entirely his fault. “Ok, why don’t I take you around to the garden and have you rest in the hammock?”
“Ooo….hammock.”
He’s allowed to nap there when he’s good, but the rules are moot now – I just need him to cooperate. I get him some water, and to my relief, he allows me to escort him away from the party and to somewhere more quiet.
When I come back, I’m deeply relieved to see Reginald making nice with everyone and the catering tables look flawless. I host questions from concerned guests for several minutes before I have another moment alone with Reginald.
“Is he alright?” my best friend inquires.
“Yes, just napping, thankfully. Thank you so much for covering, Reg, I really appreciate it.”
“Not a problem at all. Least I can do.”
He hands me a glass of lemonade and I sip it. “…It’s kind of funny though isn’t it?” I chuckle.
“Oh my god, when he was blowing raspberries on the balloon I was trying so hard not to lose it,” Reginald admits.
I can’t help but smile about this silliness now that the anger has passed. “You missed that when I got him into the hammock, I wouldn’t give him the balloon back at first and he said to me – ‘Dude, why you hating on my balloon?’ in this super indignant voice.”
Reginald covers his face with one hand and cracks up. “Oh god, I’m never going to look at Oren straight-faced again!”
“YOU?” I gasp. His laughter is contagious and I’m catching up. “Tomorrow I have to explained to a very disciplined and soon to be very horrified houseboy that he nearly left me for a balloon – and he called his Sir ‘dude’.”
We both dissolve into hysterics and have to sit down in the patio chairs again to recover.
When Oren emerged from the gardens later after the party ended, Reginald and I sat with him on the grass and fed him munchies off paper plates. In the end, I wasn’t able to bring myself to punish Oren. We figured that Oren’s eventual embarrassment toward his behavior was punishment enough – and it was. I still tease him about calling me ‘dude’ though, which makes him squirm in the most adorable way.
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Text is fictional. Photographs by Richard Rothstein. More from the set here.
