The Melting Season

The million-dollar question. She was the million-dollar question, and I was the $178,000 question.

 

“It’s one of three people,” she said. “There was that one guy, and then there was a party the next night that got a little out of hand.”

 

I said nothing. I was terrified for her. This was nothing like the life I had led just a few years before.

 

“Doesn’t matter who it is anyway,” she said. “Ain’t none of them want it.”

 

“Jenny, do not talk that way.”

 

“What way?”

 

“Like-you-do-not-know-how-to-talk-better way.”

 

“Will you tell me one thing?” said Jenny.

 

“Maybe,” I said.

 

“Is it fun out there?” She sounded kind of jealous. I realized for the first time that it should have been her in this car and not me. A little part of me had always admired her for wanting to break free, even though I had never felt the same way. She was the one aching for freedom. “Is it better than here?” I could hear her heart waiting for me. I did not want to break it. I thought hard. Was it fun?

 

“It is scary,” I said. “And it makes me sad to be away from home.” The women next to me laughed so hard it started to worry me. Could you die from laughing? Could you use up all your breath?

 

“It’s not a little bit fun?” she said.

 

I had not thought about it before, but it was kind of fun. The not-knowingness of it all freaked me out. But it was like playing a game, too. I felt like every new person I met, every new city I visited, the farther I got away from my past, I would be making a move. The lies, too, were moves. I had not told any big ones yet but I had told a few, and I knew I would have to tell more before all of it was over.

 

“It is a little fun,” I said. “The most fun of all is letting yourself go. When you just decide to do what you want to do and not listen to anyone else at all—”

 

“Yes,” said Jenny. “That’s what I wanted to know.”

 

Maybe it was not a good idea to tell her that. Jenny did not need any more help being wild. But it was the truth. I could not tell her where I was or where I was going, but I could tell her one truth.

 

We whispered goodbyes to each other and I promised to help her when I could. She asked me when I was coming home and I told her to hold tight. I was lying though. I could not face going home. I did not have it in me.

 

Traffic moved me slowly down the block and I was suddenly tired. My legs and back and ass felt bloated and sore. I thought about pulling into Paris or New York, but I did not feel I belonged there. I did not belong anywhere. This was a false land. But I had to stop somewhere. I could not drive forever. I neared the end of the strip and I had no choice left. I pulled into the driveway of the giant pyramid.

 

 

 

 

 

4.

 

 

It was dark and cool in the Luxor Hotel, like someone had flipped a switch and made it nighttime, even though there was still at least an hour left till sundown. There were a dozen long lines of people waiting to check into the hotel. I slid in behind someone. I was happy to be standing still for a moment. But then the soft tinkle of the slot machines wormed its way into my head, and I could see already there were too many traps here. Also, I could not shut out the voices around me. I was in a sea of strangers. I saw and heard everything at once.

 

The couple to the right of me was fighting. Loud. They did not care anymore who heard what. The man leaned in real close to her face and his lips moved fast. He was fat, and his polo shirt stretched tight against his belly, and great bunches of dark hair came out of the top of his shirt. The woman had nails that were long and red and she pointed one at his face, the curved tip of it coming close to his nose. He moved away from her. “Enough,” he said. “Of you and the way you feel.” I thought he was just going to take one step, but then he kept on going. He left her standing there with two suitcases. Her mouth was open as she watched him leave. I wondered if they were checking in or out.

 

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