I didn’t want to kill anyone, either, she says.
Me drinking till I puked every night and sleeping with a couple of girls, who, yeah, I never called again, I don’t know their names now, fine, I’m not proud of it, it’s just not the same as slashing someone.
That was uncharacteristic behavior for you, she says.
Absolutely.
Well, for me, too, she says. I was not myself. I was someone else.
SHE STARTED CARRYING the razor blades in her pocket at work. She would finger the smooth plastic edges of the box when she would reach in to get her order pad and pen. Just a quick touch to make sure they were still there, that they hadn’t fallen out and gotten away from her. She didn’t want anyone finding her blades, finding out that she liked them, or worse, keeping them for themselves. It was easy to imagine her coworkers also wanting to slash up the clientele. The best you could hope for from club members was for them to ignore you. It was when they realized you existed that your life became miserable, because then you were there to indulge them. They paid a lot of money to have someone to order around.
“Hon? Can you top this off?” Joey pointed to his coffee mug one morning. “And can you take your top off while you’re at it?” He said it in this very controlled voice, as if he were as entitled to nudity as he was to coffee. And then he followed it with one of his gigantic smiles and a slow, easy wink. Maggie looked into his eyes and held the look.
His tablemate, a vice president at his father’s gigantic frozen-food corporation, almost did a spit take with his water, and then started laughing heartily. “Aw, leave her alone, Joey. Don’t you know better than to mess with the girl holding the hot coffee?”
Maggie could feel every nerve ending in her body cutting into her skin.
“Anytime, Mr. Pollack.”
Joey clucked his tongue and shook his head. Maggie imagined the top of his head was swelling and turning pink.
“Just give me some more coffee, all right, kid?”
Maggie poured his coffee, and walked back to the wait station. She filled the saltshakers. She bit at her thumbnail. She stood, she stewed, she waited. As tee times grew closer, a wave of heads checked their watches and then popped their heads up and made eye contact with Maggie. Then they drew little check marks in the air with their hands, or scribbled an imaginary bill on their palms, or mouthed the word “check” and raised their eyebrows. Maggie floated across the room, delivering bills to all the husbands and fathers who had come to her for sustenance. Three dollars, five dollars, ten. It didn’t matter how much, there would be no cash exchanging hands, just a signature, an agreement to cover their financial responsibility. It almost made it feel like the meal was imaginary.
In the center of the room, Joey and his tablemate jawed some more, then slugged the rest of their coffee. Joey motioned for the check. His friend rose and left the table, headed for the men’s room in the front lobby.
“You’re being a little saucy today, aren’t you?” said Joey, as Maggie flipped through her stack of checks.
“You’re a little saucy every day,” she replied. She found his check, slapped it on the table, held it there with her fingertips. “Aren’t I allowed to play, too?” She tasted the tang of bile coming up from her stomach to her throat; flirting with him was literally making her sick.
“You can play, you can play,” he said. He paused, then said, “See you out there,” to another member as he walked past and nodded at him. “What time you done here?”
Deep breath. “Ten,” she said.
“You want to go for a drive?”
Never get in a stranger’s car. Was he a stranger?
“Sure.”
At the end of her shift, Eugene caught her at the time clock.
“Maggie Stoner, in the office, please,” he said.
His suit was light brown and his tie was bright bloodred and had little horses on it. All she could do was look at the tie. That tie sucked.
“Maggie, Maggie, Maggie.” He tapped his fingers on his desk. “How do I say this? While I have heard only good feedback from the members as of late, I’m concerned you might be developing inappropriate feelings or relationships with some of them. I watched you today, and it was like you were almost leering at them or something. And I don’t know what you were talking to Mr. Pollack about for so long, but he’s a married man, with children. We don’t want people talking, dear.”
Maggie sat quietly. How much she wanted to slice that tie right off his neck and stuff it in his mouth.
“Eugene.” She stopped herself. “Eugene.” She laughed. “Eugene. I really hate your stupid fucking tie.”
And then she got up and walked out the door. She had only a little time to get ready for her date.
IT’S BECAUSE I said we should start thinking about having children, isn’t it? That’s why you’re telling me this story, says Robert.
Yes, Maggie thinks. Why would I want to bring children into this world?