head.
—Fuck no. I just wondered, if I get the book, do I also get this?
She held the book up, showing me the sheaf of hundreds hidden in the pages.
I walked over and looked at the money, tucked into the scene where Levin discovers the joys of physical labor.
—My dad put it there.
—Why?
I picked up the cash.
—I don't know. To apologize for being a dick maybe.
She flipped the pages of the book.
—Well if that's how your family apologizes for being a dick, how much do I get?
I folded the bills and put them in the breast pocket of my shirt.
—You get to stay here and study.
She closed the book, ran fingers over the cloth cover.
—Hey?
—Mmm.
She looked up at me.
—I'm sorry about that thing.
I looked around, trying to find the thing she was talking about.
—What, the tofu?
She shook her head, pointed at the bookshelf.
—No. That thing. The yearbook. I recognized the name of the school, of course, but I didn't, like, know you were there or anything. But Chev told me. I didn't mean to, like, stir shit up.
She put her fingers on the back of my hand.
—That sucked. I remember when it happened and it totally sucked. I cried all night. So. I'm sorry. You know.
I looked at her fingers on my hand.
—Stop touching me, you stupid plastic bitch.
She pulled her hand back.
I pointed at Chev's bedroom.
—Don't get too comfortable around here. Chev is just going to fuck you until he gets bored, and then stop calling you except for maybe once or twice over the next couple months when he's drunk and needs a booty call.
Her lips thinned, she started collecting her books.
I kept talking, walking to the door.
—And you'll tell your friends that's cool, you can use the hookup, but when you call him to get the same action, he won't even bother to answer. He'll see your name on his phone and put it right back in his pocket and say something about how it's
some chick I was hooking up with and now she's strung out on the dick.
She shoved the books into a knapsack and stood.
I waved her down.
—No, no, you stay here, make yourself at home, I'm sure Chev will be back soon for a pit stop.
I went out the door, the copy of
Anna Karenina
hitting it just as I slammed it behind me.
I stood there, thought about going back in and apologizing. Thought about going back in and telling her some lies about how Chev told me she liked to be pissed on. Thought about staying right where I was and never moving again in my life.
But what's the point? Apologies don't make things better. And you can only hurt someone so much before they stop caring what you do to them. And if I stayed where I was, sooner or later the weird cat lady from down the hall would come out and ask me to help her get that mean calico from behind the dryer in the laundry room and I've been clawed enough by that rabid fucking feline.
So I went down the stairs and around the building and cut down the alley that ran east to Highland, taking the shortcut toward the shop, with a few choice words left in my vocabulary to be directed at my best friend.
In the alley, the homeless couple stood outside their tent, sorting recyclables between the three barrels mounted on their cart.
—Cocksucker.
—Bitch.
—Fucking loser.
—Fucking whore.
Their matching Mohawks bobbing as they dipped in and out of the barrels, coming up with glass and plastic and aluminum.
The girl glanced at me.
—Hey hey, got any change today?
I put my head down and walked past, skirting the row of cars parked behind the apartments that shared the alley.
I heard her spit.
—Fuck you, asshole! We just live here! We're just alive! Just like you! You don't have to ignore us because we're homeless!
I turned and walked backward away from them.
—I'm not ignoring you because you're homeless. I'm ignoring you because you scream at each other in the middle of the night when I'm trying to sleep. And also because I hate that Santa hat you wear every Christmas because you think
—Fuck no. I just wondered, if I get the book, do I also get this?
She held the book up, showing me the sheaf of hundreds hidden in the pages.
I walked over and looked at the money, tucked into the scene where Levin discovers the joys of physical labor.
—My dad put it there.
—Why?
I picked up the cash.
—I don't know. To apologize for being a dick maybe.
She flipped the pages of the book.
—Well if that's how your family apologizes for being a dick, how much do I get?
I folded the bills and put them in the breast pocket of my shirt.
—You get to stay here and study.
She closed the book, ran fingers over the cloth cover.
—Hey?
—Mmm.
She looked up at me.
—I'm sorry about that thing.
I looked around, trying to find the thing she was talking about.
—What, the tofu?
She shook her head, pointed at the bookshelf.
—No. That thing. The yearbook. I recognized the name of the school, of course, but I didn't, like, know you were there or anything. But Chev told me. I didn't mean to, like, stir shit up.
She put her fingers on the back of my hand.
—That sucked. I remember when it happened and it totally sucked. I cried all night. So. I'm sorry. You know.
I looked at her fingers on my hand.
—Stop touching me, you stupid plastic bitch.
She pulled her hand back.
I pointed at Chev's bedroom.
—Don't get too comfortable around here. Chev is just going to fuck you until he gets bored, and then stop calling you except for maybe once or twice over the next couple months when he's drunk and needs a booty call.
Her lips thinned, she started collecting her books.
I kept talking, walking to the door.
—And you'll tell your friends that's cool, you can use the hookup, but when you call him to get the same action, he won't even bother to answer. He'll see your name on his phone and put it right back in his pocket and say something about how it's
some chick I was hooking up with and now she's strung out on the dick.
She shoved the books into a knapsack and stood.
I waved her down.
—No, no, you stay here, make yourself at home, I'm sure Chev will be back soon for a pit stop.
I went out the door, the copy of
Anna Karenina
hitting it just as I slammed it behind me.
I stood there, thought about going back in and apologizing. Thought about going back in and telling her some lies about how Chev told me she liked to be pissed on. Thought about staying right where I was and never moving again in my life.
But what's the point? Apologies don't make things better. And you can only hurt someone so much before they stop caring what you do to them. And if I stayed where I was, sooner or later the weird cat lady from down the hall would come out and ask me to help her get that mean calico from behind the dryer in the laundry room and I've been clawed enough by that rabid fucking feline.
So I went down the stairs and around the building and cut down the alley that ran east to Highland, taking the shortcut toward the shop, with a few choice words left in my vocabulary to be directed at my best friend.
In the alley, the homeless couple stood outside their tent, sorting recyclables between the three barrels mounted on their cart.
—Cocksucker.
—Bitch.
—Fucking loser.
—Fucking whore.
Their matching Mohawks bobbing as they dipped in and out of the barrels, coming up with glass and plastic and aluminum.
The girl glanced at me.
—Hey hey, got any change today?
I put my head down and walked past, skirting the row of cars parked behind the apartments that shared the alley.
I heard her spit.
—Fuck you, asshole! We just live here! We're just alive! Just like you! You don't have to ignore us because we're homeless!
I turned and walked backward away from them.
—I'm not ignoring you because you're homeless. I'm ignoring you because you scream at each other in the middle of the night when I'm trying to sleep. And also because I hate that Santa hat you wear every Christmas because you think
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