Holding Still for as Long as Possible by Zoe Whittall Page A

were the predominant emotions.
    For the rest of the shift Mandy called me Olive Oil Boy, making a circular rubbing motion with her hand.
    I decided I definitely liked her.
    After work, I met Roxy at Sneaky Dee’s for some burritos and a pitcher of beer. She brought her new roommate, Billy, and I regaled them with stories of placenta mania and hippy Annex parents.
    â€œThey’re not getting out of bed for a week. They’re just staying with the baby constantly so it will be immediately used to love and comfort.”
    â€œThat’s fucking stupid,” said Billy. “They clearly don’t have jobs.”
    â€œIt’s called Attachment Parenting, and I think it’s great. It makes sense,” offered Roxy.
    I could never be sure if she was disagreeing for the sake of a debate or if she really felt the way she purported to feel.
    â€œAren’t we all woo-woo all of a sudden,” Billy snorted.
    â€œI don’t know,” I said. “I suppose it’s good when parents want to be parents that bad. That kid is going to get the best of everything, be the centre of the world.”
    â€œHe’s going to think he’s a little god, and be a total narcissist as an adult,” Billy said, dipping a chip into some guacamole.
    We sat at one of the booths on the side of the bar, and the noise of weekday drinkers insulated us from the cold outside. Billy ordered three rounds of shots, and when she talked it was like she was half mad, speedy and hilarious and self-conscious all at once. It looked like she hadn’t brushed her hair in weeks, but her eyes were lined expertly in black and her skin looked as if she was still thirteen, dewy and perfect. She was wearing tiny jeans and gold flats, a V-neck black T-shirt.
    â€œI hear Julia and Jamie are having a baby,” Roxy offered. “It really does seem like the year for long-term couples to have babies.”
    â€œJulia and Jamie break up every five seconds! I can’t believe that,” Billy said.
    â€œWell, couples often have babies or get new puppies right when they’re about to break up, like grabbing for something else to focus on when they’re panicking about losing each other,” Roxy said.
    â€œYeah, totally, I’ve noticed that too.”
    Across from us, a really drunk girl fell off her bar stool. Billy dug her nails into my arm and we laughed so hard we almost threw up.
    Roxy giggled and said, “Oh god, you guys are perfectly sick in the same way.” She got up to see if the drunk girl was okay, and helped her stumble to her feet.
    â€œWait, wait. Wanna hear my favourite joke?” asked Billy.
    I nodded.
    â€œWhy’d the monkey fall out of the tree?” she asked.
    Roxy rolled her eyes as she arrived back at the table.
    â€œWhy?” I said.
    â€œ ’Cause he was DEAD !” Billy took her shot of Jäger and slammed it down with a grin. “Josh, I think you and I are going to know each other for a long time,” she said, stealing a few of my nachos.
    When she reached out her arm, I saw a criss-cross pattern of cuts above her elbow. They were white, so probably old.
    Billy noticed me noticing them, but looked at me like, So wha t? She rested her chin on the edge of the table like a cat might, mostly because she was too short for the booths. She’d spent most of the night with her knees curled under her to stay at eye level. She looked up at me and grinned.
    I felt like I’d been shot in the gut.
    [ 7 ]
    Billy
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    What I think while having a panic attack:
    My mouth is dissolving. My eyes take in too much light. My eyes are open wider than any eyes have ever been. I no longer have eyelids. They were cut off. I should touch them. I can’t uncurl my fingers. Uncurl your fingers, asshole. God, I’m a fucking loser. LOSER . Maybe I should just punch myself with this fucking fist I can’t uncurl. I’m going to jump out of this cab. It’s 3