Later that night, Hazel and Jasper ended up at the small green pool behind her motel. Jasper cannonballed into the water without hesitation. “Second chances,” he said when he surfaced. “So what are you going to do now?”
After all the mistakes Hazel had made, it was real magic to be there, in front of a pool and under a sky. “Well. I can make some friends. I don’t have to worry about Byron hunting them or burning their house down now.”
“I think I want to try having friends,” Jasper said.
“What I want to avoid, I suppose, is getting trapped in another emotionally fake relationship where my daily life is a false performance tantamount to self-harm?” Hazel said.
“Yes.” Jasper began floating toward the middle of the pool. “Yes, yes, yes.”
On impulse, she took off her dress. Jasper lifted his head. “You should get in,” he said. “You really should.”
Hazel smiled, holding his gaze, then slowly took off her underwear and bra too. “It’s not that I hope other hotel guests are looking out their windows and seeing me doing this,” she said. “I hope they aren’t. I know voyeurism is a thing, a sexual thing, sometimes, and after Byron’s surveillance I’m way more into whatever sexual thing is the opposite of voyeurism.”
“I think you’re naked in public right now,” Jasper said.
“Yes. But Byron can’t see me.” She jumped in; the water was bathlike. When she surfaced, Jasper smiled in a way that made her feel playful. “Why don’t you get naked too?”
He laughed and slid his boxers off then threw them up on the sidewalk. They landed with a wet slap.
Hazel cleared her throat. “So if we fooled around right now, you’d really feel like you were having sex with a dolphin?”
Jasper gave her an embarrassed shrug and nodded. “It might not be that great for you. If you’re into emotional connection and stuff. I kind of go off to another world.”
Hazel thought for a moment. “But I wouldn’t have to pretend it was great, right?” Prior to Liver, she’d pretended to be in love with everyone she slept with, at least initially, although that never turned out well. Especially not with Byron. When had she so internalized the feeling that if something wasn’t great she needed to bridge the gap between reality and idealism with her own manufactured enthusiasm? Her enthusiasm was like one of those faux snow machines at a ski resort. For most of her life it had been churning out synthetic delight. It had basically forgotten the original recipe.
She’d been surprised at how much she’d liked sleeping with Liver: having it be mediocre then not acting like it wasn’t mediocre. “I’m kind of excited to sleep with people I don’t love and not pretend to love them,” Hazel admitted. She was looking forward to this: having sex and saying, That was uninspired but pleasant or We have less in common than I thought in a way that makes it more fun to be alone than be with you or My needs are opposed to your innate daily habits; let’s go try other things separately and then not report back.
“Me too, actually,” said Jasper. “And you know I’m not trying to get your money since you don’t have any.”
“Plus I’m not interested in loving you at all.” Hazel smiled. Their bodies started bobbing toward one another.
When she’d married Byron, Hazel thought she could figure out a way to stand being with whoever would have her; after her childhood she felt fortunate to be wanted by anyone. She assumed that for the right payoff, there were endless situations she could slip into and purport to feel at home. She could feign an interest in anything.
But pretending all the time was a different sort of virtual life, as fake as any of Byron’s technological simulations. Her lips met Jasper’s, her tongue. “It’s starting,” he whispered. He closed his eyes and she decided to close hers too—she didn’t need to watch him for feedback cues. He wouldn’t be looking to her to perform. These were all good things, so Hazel kept kissing him. What she most wanted to do with her second chance, she decided, was never fake anything ever again.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
THANKS TO AGENT EXTRAORDINAIRE JIM RUTMAN FOR CREATING THE opportunity to write this book, and to Lee Boudreaux, the book’s first fairy godmother.
I could not have written this novel without Megan Lynch. Through her guidance, clarity, and insight, the manuscript became better and more itself with each revision. She understood the book long before it was “there,” and was a tireless copilot in helping it arrive. I am so grateful for her editorial genius. Thanks also to Emma Dries, Eleanor Kriseman, Ashley Garland, and everyone involved at Ecco for their fantastic work.
Amy Martin and Julie Nichols generously opened their home to me when I needed a quiet work space; I wrote much of the first draft there. There is no aspect of my life they did not help me with, from childcare to reality television. The second draft of this book was finished at the beautiful Maple Wood Lodge thanks to the generosity of John Fetters and Coleman. I wrote multiple revisions of this book in the home of Birdie and Maile Chapman, who held me together and kept me going in ways I can never repay.
Many writers, artists, academics, and heroes served as critical sources of inspiration throughout the writing of this book, especially Jami Attenberg, Natalie Bakopoulos, Lynda Barry, Kate Bernheimer, Gabrielle Calvocoressi, Jeremy Chamberlin, Dan Chaon, Dave Hickey, Roxane Gay, Lindsay Hunter, Kiese Laymon, Annie Liontas, Carmen Maria Machado, Danielle Pafunda, Jeff Parker, Lee Running, Ralph Savarese, Vu Tran, and Richard Wiley.
At John Carroll University: George Bilgere, Anna Hocevar, Dave Lucas, John McBratney, Phil Metres, Tom Pace, Debby Rosenthal, and Maria Soriano; at the NEOMFA: Mary Biddinger, Mike Geither, David Giffels, Caryl Pagel, and Imad Rahman; at the University of Nevada, Las Vegas: Megan Becker, Olivia Clare, Lynn Comella, Carol Harter, Anne Stevens, Doug Unger, and Maritza White. To all my former, current, and future students—you keep me in love with the process of writing.
To Team Bakoponutt: Amos Bakopoulos, Lydia Bakopoulos, and Sparrow Nutting. No one makes me laugh harder or feel happier. Having the three of you in my life is the best and luckiest part of being me.
And thanks to DB, whose steady encouragement gets me through everything. I’m no good, but I love you.