toothbrush down on the counter beside your toothbrush. She closes the drapes over the view, which is just another building, glass-fronted like the elevators. As if nobody could ever get anything done if the world wasn’t watching, or maybe because if the world can look in and see what you’re doing then what you’re doing has to be valuable and important and aboveboard. It’s a far way down to the street, so far down that the window in Paul Zell’s hotel room doesn’t open, probably because people like Billie can’t help imagining what it would be like to fall.
All the little ant people down there, who don’t even know you’re standing at the window looking down at them. Billie looks down at them.
Billie closes the blackout curtain over the view. She pulls the cover off the bed closest to the window. She takes off her jeans and shirt and bra and puts on the Metallica T-shirt she found in Paul Zell’s suitcase.
She lies down on a fresh white top sheet, falls asleep in the yellow darkness. She dreams about you.
When she wakes up her neck is kinked on an unfamiliar pillow. Her jaw is tight because she’s forgotten to wear her mouthpiece. She’s been grinding her teeth. So, yes, the teeth grinding, that’s me. Not Melinda.
It’s 4:30, late afternoon. Billie takes a shower. She uses Paul Zell’s herbal conditioner.
The hotel where she’s staying is on CNN. Because of the superheroes.
For the last three weeks Billie has tried not to think too much about what will happen at dinner when she and Paul Zell meet.But even though she’s been trying not to think about it, she still had to figure out what she was going to wear. The skirt and the sweater she brought are Melinda’s. Billie hopes they’ll make her look older, but not as if she is
trying
to look older. She bought a lipstick at Target, but when she puts it on it looks too Billie Goes to Clown School, and so she wipes it off again and puts on ChapStick instead. She’s sure her lips are still redder than they ought to be.
When she goes down to ask about Internet cafés, Aliss is still on the front desk. “Guests can use their room keys to access the business center,” Aliss tells her.
Billie has another question. “Who’s that guy Conrad?” she says. “What’s his deal?”
Aliss’s eyes narrow. “His deal is he’s the biggest slut in the world. Like it’s any of your business,” she says. “But don’t think that he’s got any pull with his dad, Little Miss Wannabe Sidekick. No matter what he says. Hook up with him and I’ll stomp your ass. It’s not like I want this job anyway.”
“I’ve got a boyfriend,” Billie says. “Besides, he’s too old for me.”
Which is an interesting thing for her to say, when I think about it now.
Here’s the thing, Paul Zell. You’re thirty-four and I’m fifteen. That’s nineteen years’ difference. That’s a substantial gap, right? Besides the legal issue, which I am not trying to minimize, I could be twice as old as I am now and you’d still be older. I’ve thought about this a lot. And you know what? There’s a teacher at school, Mrs. Christie. Melinda was talking, a few months ago, about how Mrs. Christie just turned thirty and her husband is sixty-three. And they still fell in love, and, yeah,Melinda says everyone thinks it’s kind of repulsive, but that’s love, and nobody really understands how it works. It just happens. And then there’s Melinda, who married a guy
exactly the same age that she was
, who then got addicted to heroin, and was, besides that, just all-around bad news. My point? Compared to those thirty-three years between Mr. and Mrs. Christie, nineteen years is practically nothing.
The real problem here is timing. And, also, of course, the fact that I lied. But, except for the lying, why couldn’t it have worked out between us in a few years? Why do we really have to wait at all? It’s not like I’m ever going to fall in love with anyone again.
Billie uses
All the little ant people down there, who don’t even know you’re standing at the window looking down at them. Billie looks down at them.
Billie closes the blackout curtain over the view. She pulls the cover off the bed closest to the window. She takes off her jeans and shirt and bra and puts on the Metallica T-shirt she found in Paul Zell’s suitcase.
She lies down on a fresh white top sheet, falls asleep in the yellow darkness. She dreams about you.
When she wakes up her neck is kinked on an unfamiliar pillow. Her jaw is tight because she’s forgotten to wear her mouthpiece. She’s been grinding her teeth. So, yes, the teeth grinding, that’s me. Not Melinda.
It’s 4:30, late afternoon. Billie takes a shower. She uses Paul Zell’s herbal conditioner.
The hotel where she’s staying is on CNN. Because of the superheroes.
For the last three weeks Billie has tried not to think too much about what will happen at dinner when she and Paul Zell meet.But even though she’s been trying not to think about it, she still had to figure out what she was going to wear. The skirt and the sweater she brought are Melinda’s. Billie hopes they’ll make her look older, but not as if she is
trying
to look older. She bought a lipstick at Target, but when she puts it on it looks too Billie Goes to Clown School, and so she wipes it off again and puts on ChapStick instead. She’s sure her lips are still redder than they ought to be.
When she goes down to ask about Internet cafés, Aliss is still on the front desk. “Guests can use their room keys to access the business center,” Aliss tells her.
Billie has another question. “Who’s that guy Conrad?” she says. “What’s his deal?”
Aliss’s eyes narrow. “His deal is he’s the biggest slut in the world. Like it’s any of your business,” she says. “But don’t think that he’s got any pull with his dad, Little Miss Wannabe Sidekick. No matter what he says. Hook up with him and I’ll stomp your ass. It’s not like I want this job anyway.”
“I’ve got a boyfriend,” Billie says. “Besides, he’s too old for me.”
Which is an interesting thing for her to say, when I think about it now.
Here’s the thing, Paul Zell. You’re thirty-four and I’m fifteen. That’s nineteen years’ difference. That’s a substantial gap, right? Besides the legal issue, which I am not trying to minimize, I could be twice as old as I am now and you’d still be older. I’ve thought about this a lot. And you know what? There’s a teacher at school, Mrs. Christie. Melinda was talking, a few months ago, about how Mrs. Christie just turned thirty and her husband is sixty-three. And they still fell in love, and, yeah,Melinda says everyone thinks it’s kind of repulsive, but that’s love, and nobody really understands how it works. It just happens. And then there’s Melinda, who married a guy
exactly the same age that she was
, who then got addicted to heroin, and was, besides that, just all-around bad news. My point? Compared to those thirty-three years between Mr. and Mrs. Christie, nineteen years is practically nothing.
The real problem here is timing. And, also, of course, the fact that I lied. But, except for the lying, why couldn’t it have worked out between us in a few years? Why do we really have to wait at all? It’s not like I’m ever going to fall in love with anyone again.
Billie uses
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