“But here’s the thing. Here’s the shit of it. Here’s the bottom-down deep truth of it. I think maybe none of that matters. Like, not the Cool Ranch Doritos part, and not the losing my car part, and not even the losing my virginity part.” Even as he said it, he knew that wasn’t quite true.
“Well, shit. Okay. The virginity part matters. As much I tried to front like it was cool and I didn’t care because it wasn’t like no one wanted to sleep with me, I really do feel kind of relieved now. Even though it didn’t happen the way I thought it would—and really, what does in life?—at least it happened and I can move on and stop being so self-conscious about it all.” An absurd thought struck him. “Yo, I can start flying Virgin again! I’ve been avoiding them for years, even though they’re clearly the best airline, because I just couldn’t face the thought of anyone seeing me standing under that Virgin sign.” That actually was true. “And drinking virgin daiquiris. I weep when I think of all the frosty blended drinks I’ve denied myself.” And so was that. Andrew almost couldn’t believe these things were actually making people laugh. “Oh man, you know what? I can finally watch The Virgin Suicides! That matters, right? Right? I didn’t even want to read the book!” A table of awkwardly matched friends just offstage all laughed uproariously at that, and Andrew felt a surge of love for them, and then for everyone in the bar, and then outward until he wanted to wrap his arms around the entire city of New Orleans. “Okay, seriously though, losing my virginity matters to me, but I think maybe the only thing that really matters, like in a ‘the universe and everything in it’ kind of way, is the connection you make with another person, whatever your relationship is with them.
“So, me and you here. You know, me up here and all hundred of you down there. Alright, eighty. Seventy-five. Whatever. Yeah, all forty of you, I see you. I SEE YOU. I. Fucking. See. You. Do you see me? Because I see every single one of you even if you’re hiding behind the lardass in front of you. And that’s all we want, right? Just that? I SEE you. I feel you. I know you. And now that I’m done with being a virgin I’d fuck every single one of you if I could and it would be tender and it would be beautiful. Yeah. That’s right. I’m not ashamed. That’s what I said. I would fuck you with my heart, and it would be tender, and it would be beautiful.”
The words had just rolled out, unstoppable, and he meant every one of them. Now the clock over the DJ booth was flashing down at him. It was showing negative numbers, giant and red, counting him further and further into debt to these people who had given him their attention, and so he smiled and raised the microphone—because what else was there left to say?—and the emcee came back onstage, clapping, clapping, clapping for him.
三十七
High Point, NC
THE COPS DROVE weird cars here. Or maybe they weren’t weird; maybe they were exactly what North Carolina cops should be driving. Cars for muscleheads, silver gray, with a black racing stripe, the kind of thing that would zoom in front of you as soon as the light turned green, a douche like Johnny Delahari at the wheel. The cops themselves, though, seemed pretty much just like cops in L.A. and Santa Barbara. Tough but not tough, standing around with their walkie-talkies going off and not really doing anything. God, all they’d done since getting there was block off a lane of traffic with their dick cars and set up a ring of those flame sticks. Grace held her breath for a second. Smoke, sharp and sulfurous, crept up her nostrils, itching the inside of her brain and casting shadows on the wreck of their poor car.
Their poor, poor car.
Its nose was bashed in, its windshield was shattered, and all four of its tires had exploded, making it look like it was sinking into the asphalt. It had rotated around completely so that its nose was pointing at oncoming traffic. She could see her collapsed suitcase through the half-open back door.
Grace felt dazed. Maybe they’d all crawled out of that car seconds ago, maybe it had been hours. Maybe they’d been waiting on the side of the highway forever, and they’d never do anything else with their lives. When everything had finally stopped spinning, Grace pulled on the door handle and it swung open, too easy. Surprised, escape the only thing in her mind, she’d fallen right out on the side of the highway, a pile of battered limbs.
The world ended, and then it didn’t.