“Yeah, I guess,” said Randy, who definitely thought she was being bitchy, but he didn’t really care that much anymore (because it was too much worry to care, you know, he hadn’t even looked to see if she had some kind of massive, sexy scar on her asscheek; that was how much he really just didn’t give a shit anymore). “You excited for the party tomorrow night?” he asked.
“Oooh, right,” she said. “The inaugural BBQ.”
“Are you going to comb your hair for it?”
“We’ll see,” she said.
Why did she want to stab him in the face so badly and so suddenly, too? He misunderstood her. That was the insult. He thought he understood her, but the way he understood her was so simple and condescending, and that made him an idiot. If she were hearing about this, she would obviously side with herself, and then anyone who acted contrarily would become the object of her scorn, her dismissal, whatever.
She wanted to say “Fuck the police” because yeah, she didn’t need anybody. Fuck the police. She looked at him contemptuously. Fuck the police, fuck the motherfucking po-lice, motherfucker.
• • •
Jillian was feeling nervous about the coming week. She kept pacing around and eating handfuls of cereal. She did not have any money. She would not be able to get her car. If she got her car, she would not be able to pay for Adam’s day care. If she got Adam’s day care, she wouldn’t be able to get him there. She was going to have to rob a bank or sell her couch or something. Pacing. She kept pacing. That’s it, maybe. Adam and Crispy were watching TV. She brought her laptop into the living room to be with them and started looking at craigslist to see what kinds of prices she could get for her stuff. She would take pictures of all of her stuff and put them on the internet and have people come over and pay her for it. She had too much shit, anyway.
She spent a few hours on craigslist and then almost started crying because it seemed like it wasn’t going to work. And plus, how was she supposed to live like a normal person without a couch or a table or clothes? Anyway, her stuff was so fucked up and junky, and half the people on this website were giving their stuff away. Free for pickup? What was that shit? She saw more stuff on there that she thought she might like to grab (if she had a car) than stuff that looked like hers selling at an encouraging price.
Her kid and dog were passed out because it was, like, two in the morning. She was agitated. Oh my god, so agitated.
• • •
The first thing Megan noticed when she woke up on Saturday was that she was covered in a film of sweat. She had beads of sweat on the bridge of her nose. When she reached up to touch her face, her fingers slipped. The leaves that had been growing on the trees in the background (in the background, I guess, of the events of her life) were suddenly very apparent. The light in her bedroom (which she shared with Randy, who was still asleep and probably too dull in the head to appreciate this strange new change) was green. It was green because it was coming in through the leaves on the trees. She was more than happy to get up and away from Randy, who she now currently hated.
It was like all of a sudden the change had happened. She wasn’t even aware of spring. And she was surprised, the way she was surprised last year, that she was surprised that it was hot again. Oh, right, heat, she thought. She was wearing flannel pajama pants. She thought about taking them off, but she didn’t want to take her pants off in front of Randy. She put shoes on, poured herself a glass of water, and left the apartment. Fuck you, Randy.
It looked like it was going to storm. There was that light that comes from electricity in the air. How did she know that? Probably wasn’t even true, she was just pretending to know the causes of things, bullshitting even in the privacy of her own mind. What a weird walk, but a great idea, because it was summer now, and that meant an increase in personal freedom. She would probably be back before Randy was awake, and maybe she wouldn’t even tell him she’d gone on a walk. It was, like, eight in the morning. Usually she slept until ten-thirty on Saturdays, so these couple of hours were extras. Everything was so green. She drank the water and saw a fully clothed woman walking on the opposite side of the street.
• • •
Jillian woke up drenched in sweat. I’m disoriented, she thought. She walked out into the apartment, which had stopped being clean awhile back. There was a look to the air that was familiar, holy shit it was summer. Jillian went around and shut all the windows and turned on the AC. She was drenched. She got into the shower. While in the shower, she thought she might as well pick up a little bit today. Her body ached, but she wouldn’t feel the full force of her predicament until after noon, and she would take that as a blessing from the lord.
• • •
It was really, like, eighty-five degrees outside already. Megan wasn’t wearing underpants and her asscrack was sweaty. She stopped feeling liberated and started feeling exposed out in the world in her pajamas. Slime under her tits, too. The light outside was so beautiful. When she thought about going back inside to clean up and get dressed, she wanted to die! Oh, yes, to die! She laughed. It was dark in that apartment and dirty and it
