do that is to be drunk.”
“I think we should sleep a bit,” she says. Her arms and legs feel so heavy they can barely move.
“No can do.”
“But my foot hurts, and my head hurts.”
“Rosie. The next few days are going to be hard enough, but if we get behind schedule right from the beginning, it’s just going to be worse. You can prop your foot up on the dash with a bag of ice. And take some ibuprofen. You’ll be fine.” He looks around. “Look at all this crap that didn’t gettaken away. Jesus. There are
bags
of garbage everywhere.” He reaches over and turns on the kitchen light, and the bulb burns out with an explosion that makes her jump.
“Oh, holy Christ! Did you see that? The fucking oven didn’t get cleaned,” he says.
“Sssh. We can do it now.”
“But why didn’t you get it done earlier? Your friends could have helped you.”
“You saw how people were dressed here today. Nobody came here to clean ovens. I still can’t even believe you got those guys to carry all that stuff.”
“Nah, they were always gonna help me. They’re my buds.”
“I know, but didn’t you see how mad at you they were?”
“Here’s a little secret, Rosie: people are like puppy dogs. They can’t stay mad.” He laughs a little. “Puppy dogs. Ask them tomorrow, and they’ll say that today was the best day of their lives.”
She stares at him. “Wow. God, I can’t get over how you just skate through life. Nothing bad ever happens to you,” she says. “You always get forgiven, don’t you? By the way, did you call your mom?”
“What is this? I called her on Thursday.”
“But she wanted to see you. Was she mad that you didn’t come?”
“She’s used to me,” he says. “I say it again: puppy dogs. Clearly you don’t have your friends and family trained the way mine are.” He laughs.
“I never even tried to train them,” she says. “It’s despicable.” But maybe he doesn’t hear that last part, because he’s knelt down next to the oven and is peering inside at all its caked-on splotches.
He sits back on his heels and puts on his German accent. Sort of a
Hogan’s Heroes
thing he does from time to time, togreat laughter from his friends. “Dis black mark iss number two thirty-seven, the Turkey Catastrophe of five years ago,” he says. “And over here ve have the Cherry Pie Disaster, number three forty-five. Date still unknown. Fräulein, I am so very sorry, but ve cannot let you destroy the past by cleaning this oven. No.
Nein
.”
“But I think we have to clean it. We need the security deposit back.”
“No. No. Cannot be done. Against the rules of scientific discovery.” He closes the door and comes over to her. “We’re not doing it, babe. Come on. Let’s go.” He smells like garlic and beer and sweat. She feels a sudden sweep of anger, with her breath fluttery in her chest. She might be in danger of throwing up.
“Nobody ever holds you to anything,” she says, pulling away from him. She looks back at the oven. “You’ve decided we’re not cleaning this oven, and so if I want the security deposit back, too bad. Because you don’t really care. You can really walk away from this, can’t you—leave this apartment in this appalling state, and not—” Her voice is getting higher.
He laughs and looks around. “What are you talking about? This is not exactly appalling. Appalling would be if we had left dead bodies in the closets.” He goes over to the closet and opens it to show her there’s no such thing. She watches his expression, the flourish of his hand, the hooded look of his eyes, and then she swallows and just says it.
“Listen, I don’t think I’m going with you. I can’t.”
“What? What are you talking about?”
“I’m not going to California.” Her hairline feels suddenly freezing cold, as though it, too, is surprised by this news. She balls her hands into fists so they won’t start to tremble in front of him.
“Aha! But you have to.
“I think we should sleep a bit,” she says. Her arms and legs feel so heavy they can barely move.
“No can do.”
“But my foot hurts, and my head hurts.”
“Rosie. The next few days are going to be hard enough, but if we get behind schedule right from the beginning, it’s just going to be worse. You can prop your foot up on the dash with a bag of ice. And take some ibuprofen. You’ll be fine.” He looks around. “Look at all this crap that didn’t gettaken away. Jesus. There are
bags
of garbage everywhere.” He reaches over and turns on the kitchen light, and the bulb burns out with an explosion that makes her jump.
“Oh, holy Christ! Did you see that? The fucking oven didn’t get cleaned,” he says.
“Sssh. We can do it now.”
“But why didn’t you get it done earlier? Your friends could have helped you.”
“You saw how people were dressed here today. Nobody came here to clean ovens. I still can’t even believe you got those guys to carry all that stuff.”
“Nah, they were always gonna help me. They’re my buds.”
“I know, but didn’t you see how mad at you they were?”
“Here’s a little secret, Rosie: people are like puppy dogs. They can’t stay mad.” He laughs a little. “Puppy dogs. Ask them tomorrow, and they’ll say that today was the best day of their lives.”
She stares at him. “Wow. God, I can’t get over how you just skate through life. Nothing bad ever happens to you,” she says. “You always get forgiven, don’t you? By the way, did you call your mom?”
“What is this? I called her on Thursday.”
“But she wanted to see you. Was she mad that you didn’t come?”
“She’s used to me,” he says. “I say it again: puppy dogs. Clearly you don’t have your friends and family trained the way mine are.” He laughs.
“I never even tried to train them,” she says. “It’s despicable.” But maybe he doesn’t hear that last part, because he’s knelt down next to the oven and is peering inside at all its caked-on splotches.
He sits back on his heels and puts on his German accent. Sort of a
Hogan’s Heroes
thing he does from time to time, togreat laughter from his friends. “Dis black mark iss number two thirty-seven, the Turkey Catastrophe of five years ago,” he says. “And over here ve have the Cherry Pie Disaster, number three forty-five. Date still unknown. Fräulein, I am so very sorry, but ve cannot let you destroy the past by cleaning this oven. No.
Nein
.”
“But I think we have to clean it. We need the security deposit back.”
“No. No. Cannot be done. Against the rules of scientific discovery.” He closes the door and comes over to her. “We’re not doing it, babe. Come on. Let’s go.” He smells like garlic and beer and sweat. She feels a sudden sweep of anger, with her breath fluttery in her chest. She might be in danger of throwing up.
“Nobody ever holds you to anything,” she says, pulling away from him. She looks back at the oven. “You’ve decided we’re not cleaning this oven, and so if I want the security deposit back, too bad. Because you don’t really care. You can really walk away from this, can’t you—leave this apartment in this appalling state, and not—” Her voice is getting higher.
He laughs and looks around. “What are you talking about? This is not exactly appalling. Appalling would be if we had left dead bodies in the closets.” He goes over to the closet and opens it to show her there’s no such thing. She watches his expression, the flourish of his hand, the hooded look of his eyes, and then she swallows and just says it.
“Listen, I don’t think I’m going with you. I can’t.”
“What? What are you talking about?”
“I’m not going to California.” Her hairline feels suddenly freezing cold, as though it, too, is surprised by this news. She balls her hands into fists so they won’t start to tremble in front of him.
“Aha! But you have to.
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