She bit me! he screamed, shoving me away. She bit me!
As if he were talking about a rabid dog! There was blood everywhere! I was so angry!
You’re not going to put a baby in me, I told anyone who would listen. Sister Reliability doesn’t fuck!
I was fine with genitalia in my face and blow jobs and spitting out their sperm, I was fine with rimming, I made my peace with it, and I was so angry. Underneath my peace there was anger, an ugly anger, the force of it was formidable, and I was the one who had to live with it. Everything was bitter.
I had no more interest in sexual relations than I have in the mating habits of cockroaches! I’d rather study flowers for the rest of my life than have sex! I’d rather have my nose in tulips and roses! When my roommate Julie suggested that I might be a closeted lesbian, after she discovered my preference for LGBT novels, I snorted.
A woman on top of a woman is just as disgusting as a man on top of a woman, I said to her, it’s all the same to me!
I had a huge stain on my pants. Michele and the moist towelette made the stain worse, she forced the stain to set into the fabric, causing it to look even larger and darker, I saw for myself in the bathroom. If I stood up or walked around the facility, my coworkers would see I had no control over what came out of my body.
I decided to go home early, I told everyone I was sick, then I made plans to meet my roommate Julie’s friend Steve for lunch. He wrote novels and short stories about virgin bachelors from Switzerland who liked to look up women’s skirts. I felt a tenderness toward him for his mousy grayish hair, the small, adorable pink pimples above his lip, etc. Perhaps I wasn’t gay or straight, perhaps I was perverse.
Do you want to get lunch? I would text Steve.
The next thing I knew, he would appear on the sidewalk below my shared studio apartment with a bag of deli sandwiches and pink lemonades with pulp, which we would take to the park and sometimes I would throw my leftover sandwich at the ducks and swans. One time I killed a baby duck, by accident. The heel of bread was harder than I thought. At the time I didn’t know my own strength. That early afternoon my shared studio apartment’s buzzer would not stop buzzing, and I assumed it was Steve with a sandwich. It was insistent and upsetting. I changed out of my pants and into red Umbros. I tried to buzz the person in, but it didn’t work, and the buzzer kept ringing. I ran down the stairs in an agitated mood, only to be shocked by my adoptive brother’s appearance out of the blue. It took me a moment to register that it wasn’t Steve. I almost said, You’re not Steve! To my adoptive brother! I apprehended his figure, slightly hunched and embarrassed. I saw that his brown Korean eyes were like the light reflecting off warm toad-ridden ponds in a dark ecology.
Hello, I said. What are you doing here?
That day something bad happened, then something good. His appearance was like when a character out of a fairy tale appears magically for no reason but to possibly improve the situation. His clothes were wet from the rain, and they smelled slightly worse than typical New York City pollution. He was wearing a New York Yankees baseball cap, and I never understood why he liked them, I didn’t ask, I assumed there was a terrible reason behind it, and now I’ll never know.
I tried to call you, he said as he stood in the vestibule. I called and called and you didn’t answer. Your phone kept ringing. It didn’t go to voicemail and my text messages were bounced back.
My phone must have died, I apologized, it must have died in the rain.
That’s okay, he said.
Does this sound like someone impulsive, psychotic, and crying out for help? Does this sound like a person who made a mistake?
The next day, I said to Thomas, I received an email from my supervisor informing me that I was being placed under an internal investigation…
18
Thomas looked down at the floor. He no longer looked sad and allergic, in fact, he looked upset, and I recognized immediately a face of disgust. It was almost like looking into a mirror: the brow furrowed, the eyebrows knit closely together, the lips curled up.
Is something bothering you? I said.
Well. I just don’t understand why you felt like you had to tell me all of that. What did any of that have to do with… anything. What did that have to do with anything?
Wait a second. I’m not done. I didn’t even get to the good part. There’s more.
I should get going. I’m not feeling very well.
He stood up from the chair. I followed his polo shirt out of the den and into the foyer.
Can I still call you if I think of any more questions? I said.
I guess, he said as he put his headset on, but it would be better for me if you didn’t.
Why’s that? What do you mean by that?
Never mind, said Thomas.
Before he left, he turned around.
It’s so dark in your house. Why don’t you turn on some lights? It’s like you’re sitting on top of a pile of darkness. It’s not normal. It’s really fucking weird.
Then he ran out the front door and down the evenly paved driveway until he reached his car, a small hatchback.