The Side Effects of Starving - Chapter Four
I'm hungry and I know that Michelle will be working, so I drive downtown. It's raining. I ask for her, and the girl behind the counter looks at me as though she hasn't had the will to live for hours. She stumbles into the back, and Michelle appears. She has dark circles under her eyes, but she is still beautiful, and more importantly, she's happy to see me. I ask her for two loaves of bread and some gondolas, which are the house sandwich. She brings a white paper bag, and hands it to me under the counter as a customer walks in.Later, driving home, it occurs to me that stealing isn't wrong when you have to wear a nametag every day. Stealing from your employer is like a victimless crime, because businesses don't have faces. I start to think that if I had enough friends, I would never have to pay for anything. But what would I bring to these revolutionary barter alliances? I work in an office; all I can steal are pens and paper clips.
When I get home, Shane is waiting for me, along with his crowd of friends. They have the same names as my friends, but they are obviously and permanently his. Shane tells me that tonight we are watching something called "Adult Swim," which is a cable evening of cartoons not intended for children. I share the revolution food with them. I tell them, "Don't thank me, thank the combination of poverty and spinelessness without which there would be no service sector."
As they file towards the living room, I call for reinforcements. I want there to be at least one person who I can talk to. But Dan cannot be reached, and Steve's line is busy. Shane's friends call for me, and I give up. I stalk into the living room, sit down on the floor, and start to watch the animation on the screen.
Shane's Seth asks me if I want a hit or two from the pipe they're passing around, and I say, "Sure." I hold the pipe to my lips and take the lighter from Seth's fingers, but I'm distracted because I'm pretty sure he and I made out once over Thanksgiving Break. When I get a spark, I burn my thumb. "Christ," I say, and place my thumb between my teeth, trying to stop the pain. The boys laugh at me, and finally I say, "I think I might be too stupid to smoke weed."
Chinese Mountain Fairies – which are considered a species of demon because of their unique relationship to time – are known to brew magical soup from hemp.
I finally have to ask Seth to light the pipe for me. I inhale slowly while he stares at the ashes. He has beautiful eyes, and he is more well-built than most of the men I know. I can't remember having a conversation with him, but I'm almost sure that I've seen him naked. And then I have a vague memory of saying something along the lines of "Well, it was nice to meet you," and being taken by surprise when he kissed me goodbye.
I'm not giggly at all; it's not like the last time I smoked. I enjoy the cartoons for a while, but I don't feel the same elation as the others. Shane's Seth is just as much of a flirt as I remember. I contemplate which of them I would rather have spend the night. I can choose my own poison. There's Shane, who's casual and seemingly unobtrusive. On the other hand, there's Seth, who's quick and intense. Then, I realize that there are other girls there, which all but kills my chances of getting either of them. One of Shane's ex-girlfriends who I intensely hate is there, snuggling with him the way she used to, and I can't help but feel she's doing it just to get under my skin, and suddenly I don't want to bother with these people, I want these strangers out of my house. "Adult Swim" ends and the black-and-white cartoons they show at four in the morning begin. I decide to tell them that I am tired. I decide to tell them I have to work in the morning, I decide to tell them anything.
"I'm sorry, all of you, but I have to be getting to bed. Unless any of you wanted to join me, I'll have to ask you to leave." I say this with someone else's smile and flirty tone of voice, because I'm afraid to let them know how annoyed I really am. I don't know why I'm such a coward.
With only a few nasty comments, they leave. Shane hugs me at the door, and says he'll try to call me sometime next week. He says, "Maybe we can catch a movie."
The voice inside says, "I'll have to check with my inner masochist and get back to you," gloats at his wounded look, and tells him not to do me any favors.
I just say, "Later, Shane."
Seth leaves without a second glance.
I go to bed alone, and, of course, I can't sleep.
I start to think about Shane's friends, and my friends, and I wonder if we all have the same friends, the same acquaintances, the same enemies, just recycled, with different names. I start to wonder if there are other versions of me running around, thinking themselves unique.
Thoughts don't stop just because you tell yourself that it would be nice to be able to keep your eyes open at work in the morning.
I try counting how many times the colon between the numbers in my alarm clock blinks. I try to count how many seconds I can keep my eyes open before I have to blink. Then I try to count how many seconds I can stand to keep my eyes closed.
Then I see the face again. It isn't grimacing this time, though. It's laughing. It's laughing at me. I roll my eyes and take a deep, exasperated breath. If I were a demon, I would be laughing, too.
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