“I’m going to take a shower,” said Randy. “Help yourself to some coffee.”
She turned and put her back against the window and, yeah, she definitely felt like an overdramatic idiot, but at least well, whatever. “Fucking asshole,” she whispered. Fucking asshole.
She looked at herself in the bedroom mirror to determine whether or not a shower was necessary and decided it was not. She took off her jammies and used them to wipe the sweat from her asscrack and armpits, then she put on clean underpants and dug out her shorts which were, alas, too small, but would still button. She looked at that silly fuck in the mirror, did a royal bow, and said, “Fuck you, too.”
She cleaned the apartment. It was a way to divert her nervous energy. She went on a walk. She waited for it to be night.
4
Jillian was either going to throw up or have diarrhea, her body hadn’t decided which yet. It was nerves. Although, maybe nothing would happen. That was possible. She thought about it while she paced around her apartment. She had four T3s left, she could take them and then maybe they would help her calm down long enough (though they were the last, the very last) to come up with a plan.
“God, I wish I were hit by a deer,” she said.
I would break my arms, Jesus, if I thought it would deliver me from this situation. Jesus, what can I do, what do you want me to do? You’ve kept me safe before and I trust that you will keep me safe now, or if you punish me, then it’s for all the right reasons and things will be better after the punishment than they are now. But I also know you won’t ever, you would not ever hurt a kid, and that’s all I’m trying to do is to not hurt my kid and I would do anything, you know, I would really I would break my arms if you would just tell me how to get out of this.
Jillian dug her small fingers into the flesh of her arms and shuddered the word “fuck.”
“Fuck,” she said.
She resumed pacing. Her mouth became dry. After a few rounds of her apartment, she began to feel some kind of a release, which she interpreted as the beginnings of a divine intervention, but it was really an adrenaline crash and some dizziness from walking circles.
• • •
The golden hour came and Megan and Randy walked to the barbecue. A few times Megan punched Randy in the arm as hard as she could and Randy said, “Don’t you fucking do that. Don’t you fucking do that.”
“Why are you such a fucking asshole all of a sudden?” she asked.
“I’m surprised you can’t think of anything more interesting to say to me than that,” he said.
“I guess my mind is too clouded with disgust.”
“Oh, you’re adorable,” said Randy. “Hey, look, here we are. Hey, have fun tonight.”
“You dick.”
They walked to the backyard through a wooden gate. They walked down a gangway. Megan could hear it before she could see it. That stupid fucking tinkle or twinkle or whatever it is that a party has. That buzz, that hateful buzz. There were grills and Tiki Torches and street lamps back there, and as soon as they were spotted, Tiffany or Kimberly or whoever she was came over and hugged Randy and said how much she loved the website. Great, thought Megan. I hate everyone here. She tried to find the beer, and it didn’t take long. She drank in solitude, like some kind of disgusting shithead. “Doctor, how do you pronounce this l-e-p-r-o-s . . . s . . . y?” Three or four beers she drank just standing by the cooler alone. She tried to think about the movie Sid & Nancy and how cool it was, sometimes, to feel kind of nihilistic and self-destructive and a little “fuck the po-lice” but. “Alas,” she whispered. “Alas, alas, alas.” She lit a cigarette. She’d bought her own cigarettes so she wouldn’t have to be beholden to Randy in any way tonight. She rehearsed announcing that she would be happy to sleep on the couch. A girl she sort of knew from school was looking at her from across the party. The girl walked over.
“I’ll hang out with you for a while if you give me a cigarette,” said the girl.
“Uh, sure,” said Megan. “But the cigarettes are free to you, if that’s what you prefer.”
“No, I’ll hang,” said the girl. She must have been one of those “It’s always good to have a new experience” people.
“I forgot your name,” said Megan.
“It’s Anthea,” said the girl.
Anthea. Oh, right. Anthea.
“You see that guy?” asked Anthea.
“Yeah,” said Megan.
“He can’t see me smoking. He gets pissed when he sees me smoking. But he won’t make a commitment to me, so fuck it, I can still smoke. If he made a commitment to me, I’d consider quitting.”
“Well, you can use me to shield yourself from him if you want.”
“I mean, I’m not a total asshole. I don’t smoke in front of him, not even in my apartment. I never ask
