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: : : JAKOB'S STANDING IN THE CORNER with a plastic cup of beer in his hand, at the fringe of a conversation about old Saturday morning cartoons.
—I used to watch the fucking Pac-Man show, says a goateed guy wearing a red guayabera shirt. —Pac-Man, Ms. Pac-Man, their baby… they had a cat, a dog…
—Now, says a tall woman, —Pac-Man, was that part of that Saturday Supercade show?
—Saturday Supercade, says a guy with Buddy Holly glasses, —was like a spin-off of the Pac-Man show. It had… what'd it have… it had Frogger, Donkey Kong…
—Rubik the Amazing Cube, says the woman.
—Rubik's Cube ain't no arcade game, says Guayabera Shirt.
—Rubik the Amazing Cube was a whole other show, confirms Buddy Holly.
—Saturday Supercade had what's-his-face, that orange fuck, says Guayabera Shirt. He makes a gesture in front of his face. —With the thing.
—Q-Bert, says Jakob.
—Q-Bert! exclaims Guyabera Shirt.
—And Pitfall Harry, says Jakob.
—Which is interesting, says Buddy Holly, —because Pitfall, of course, wasn't an arcade game like the others. It was a game for the Atari 2600.
—Made by Activision, Jakob says.
—I'm of the opinion, says Buddy Holly, —that the best games for the Atari 2600 were made by Activision. Pitfall, River Raid, Kaboom…
—Megamania, suggests Jakob.
—Did they make Combat? asks Guyabera Shirt.
—No, says Buddy Holly, —Combat was the cartridge supplied with the 2600 console.
—Cause fuckin'… fuckin' Combat…
—It's no River Raid, says Jakob. He has no firm sense that this statement is actually true.
—Come on, says Guyabera Shirt. —Combat! Fuckin' Combat! You got your fuckin' tank-pong, your fuckin' invisible tanks…
Freya passes through the room and looks over at him. The two of them make eye contact and she raises her brows, a way of asking, he supposes, whether he's having an OK time. When she first invited him, last week, he made a sour face and said that he didn't want to go—he knew it was a going-away party for one of her co-workers, and he can't say that it sounded like that much fun.
—It's going to be all record-store people, isn't it? Jakob had said.
—Mostly, probably, Freya had said.
Jakob made a sour face. —I just never have anything to say to those people, he said. —I don't know enough about music and I always kind of feel like they're sneering at me.
—You always have things to say to me, Freya said. She came over and laid on the couch, putting her head in his lap.
—You're different, Jakob said. He placed his finger on her lips and she kissed it.
—Look, she said. —You should come with me. We don't have to stay for long. If you're not having a good time you can just give me the signal and we'll head out.
—We have a signal? Jakob said.
He supposes he could think of a signal if he needed one. He could nod his head towards the door, hold up his watch, something like that. But he's not desperate to go. He's actually almost having fun. So he raises his plastic cup at Freya and smiles and this seems to work as a signal that she doesn't need to come over and bail him out just yet. She heads off into the kitchen.
He tries to think about the last time that the two of them were at a party together. They skipped Clark's annual birthday party this year because they were still trying to unpack from their move. The last one, then, was probably the one Freya threw, back on New Year's Eve. The one where he watched her kiss Fletcher. Forget about that, he tells himself. That was a long time ago.
He looks through the doorway into the kitchen. Freya's standing there listening to Joshua, the host, the guy who's going away. He's slouched backwards, resting his elbows on the countertop. He's telling some story. Freya's nodding along. When he gets to a certain point Freya lets out a big laugh and then covers her mouth. Jakob finds himself suddenly annoyed with her.
He can't say he particularly cares for Joshua. He can't quite put his finger on what he doesn't like about him. It's something about his gestures. They're sly in some way; they seem to reveal a certain shiftiness. Joshua always seems to be positioning himself near the women at the party, as if he's always trying to keep himself in their line of sight. That guy's a player, Jakob thinks. And if that makes me a player-hater then so be it.
Jakob remembers when he and Freya arrived this evening; when Joshua greeted them Freya said Joshua, this is Jakob, my boyfriend, and Joshua's expression had registered some sort of surprise; he raised his eyebrows at Jakob, looked over at Freya, and then looked back at Jakob again before finally saying nice to meet you. The whole thing probably took less than a second but that was long enough for Jakob to think what is this?
He watches Joshua and Freya in the kitchen. Watches his eyes on her. When he remembers that the guy is moving away he feels glad.
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