The Egg Said Nothing (4 page)

“I’m glad you said that. What are you going to do with me?” she asked, a loaded question if I had ever heard one.

“What do you want to do?” I asked.

“Uh uh. Make your move,” she said.

“Let’s think about it. We could go get something to eat. We could wander around the streets. We could go to my apartment and watch late night TV with the sound off,” I said. “Or we could go down to the Laundromat and eat garbage out of the vending machines while freaks and weirdoes wash their clothes.”

“Let’s go,” she said, folding the cover back over the pie. We slid out of the booth. She handed me the pie, and I picked the hot chocolate up off the table. I followed her out the diner, falling in love with her hand as she waved goodnight to the waitress I met earlier.

“So what do you do?” she asked, looking up. She was tall, but shorter than me by a few inches.

“I don’t work in the traditional sense,” I said wearily.

“What, are you a writer?”

“No, nothing so noble,” I said. “You ready?”

She nodded.

“I sneak around at night, well, usually at night, and gather coins out of fountains,” I said slowly, watching her face for judgment.

“Like rare coins?” she asked earnestly.

“No, like quarters. Mostly quarters.”

She burst into laughter. “Like spare change? You collect people’s wishes? And you spend them on yourself?”

“They’re not wishes,” I said. “They lose their symbolism once they hit corporate water. At that point they either become extra income for people who don’t need it, or they can help me get along in the world.”

“I see,” she said. The idea didn’t seem to bother her, and for that I was thankful.

“What are you going to do, now that you quit Pete’s?” I asked.

“Pretty intimate with the diner, eh? Pete’s. I don’t know. I don’t really care. Maybe I’ll rob fountains.”

“That’s certainly a way to go,” I said.

We approached the Laundromat and paused to look at one another before we went in. It was as if this was a step of some significance, rather than just a way to pass the time.

“After you,” Ashley said, holding the door open.

“Thanks,” I said. I walked through the door and waited for her. Together, we walked over to the vending machines. I reached into my pocket and pulled out a fistful of change. She laughed and couldn’t stop. I started, too. Leaning into the machine, she slid down to the floor. I dropped down next to her.

“That’s ridiculous,” she said.

We sat there for a while, our knees touching. I stood up and pushed some quarters into the machine and received two bags of chips. Sitting back down, I handed one of the bags to her. I popped mine open.

“You’re kind of cool,” she said.

I was rather surprised, as that was the last impression I would have gotten from any time spent with myself. “I don’t think so,” I said, laughing at the idea.

“Not in a traditional sense,” she said. “But, you know.”

“No, I don’t,” I said. “But that’s okay.” I chomped down on a chip. The door opened, and a middle-aged woman walked in with a bag full of clothes. I looked over at Ashley, but she was staring into her chip bag, fishing around with a single finger.

The woman hefted her clothes—already color-sorted—into the machine. She poured her detergent in, closed the lid and sat down. She reached into her bag and pulled out a magazine. I couldn’t see the cover.

“I hate the whole chips,” Ashley said. I turned back to her.

“You like the crumbs?” I stood and walked over to the second machine and deposited some coins, retrieving my Coke after it fell. I plopped down next to Ashley and cracked open the soda. The cold carbonization of the first sip felt good in my mouth.

I leaned back and looked over at the middle-aged woman again. She was beginning to stand up. Her dark hair was limp and her face looked tired. She stepped up to the drink machine, put a few coins in and pressed a button. Nothing happened. She pressed it again. Still nothing.

“Damn,” she said, and put her hands in her pockets, searching. I reached back into my pocket and pulled out a quarter.

“Here,” I said. I held out the quarter. She smiled and took it. Ashley looked up.

“Thanks,” the woman said. “You guys look nice together,” she said once she sat back down. “I can see that you really love one another.”

Ashley smiled at her. She reached over and took my hand in hers. She raised it confidently and kissed it. My heart pounded in my chest as her moist lips pressed against my skin.

“I sure hope so,” Ashley said.

~Chapter 6~

In which the narrator gets lucky.

“What are we doing?” Ashley asked, tossing her hair off her shoulder. The moistness of her hand felt good against my skin. My hand squeezed hers, doing its best to prevent her from pulling away. We walked down the empty sidewalk, junk food on our breath, stars above our heads. Going back the way we had come, there was no sense of finality. Wherever it was that we were going, we were still going, coasting along on energy already spent. Drifting came easily. I already felt as if I was in a dream.

“Let’s go do nothing,” I suggested. “My place is only a few blocks away and I have a couch there. It isn’t very comfortable. There isn’t any food. But I have a TV and basic cable. It’s included in the rent.”

“That’s what you want to do with me? Watch TV?” she asked, mock offense playing across her delicate features.

“It’s not just watching TV,” I explained. “This, my friend, is the middle of the night. The shows we can find are not the same as those offered in the daylight.

“We don’t have to waste time with the steroid-budgeted feature films shortened for time and content. We get to see
Teen Wolf
and
The Breakfast Club
and
Weekend at Bernie’s Two
in their entirety, with swear words expertly replaced with overdubbing.

“We get to watch the entertainment equivalent of a transitional object, and can fall asleep with our teddy bears clasped tightly in our arms and Molly Ringwald’s words dying on our lips.

“And all of this while the rest of the world sleeps. They dream their little dreams, toss and turn in sweaty sheets, and we’ll be awake. Do you realize the effect that will have on us? Instead of air, we’ll be breathing dreams.”

Ashley shook her head. “You and your dream theft. First it’s wishes, then it’s dreams. Don’t you find it strange you steal those things that are most personal to others?”

“I don’t steal,” I pointed out. “I never steal.” We walked along in silence for a brief time until we came upon my building, looming like a giant with scoliosis.

“Here we are.”

“Here?” she asked.

“Yup.” I pulled the front door and held it open. “My little slice of paradise.”

“Thank you, sir,” she said. I followed her into the building, breathing in her scent. I felt lightheaded. “Going up?” she asked, pointing to the elevator.

“Yes, ma’am,” I said. We rode the elevator up.

Once it stopped, we walked the short distance down the hallway. I dug in my pocket for my keys. Then I paused.

“Wait a second,” I said. “That’s 312.”

“Is that not where you live?” Ashley asked.

“No, it isn’t. I live in 412.”

She seemed confused. “Do you know who lives here?”

“No,” I said quickly. “Let’s go upstairs.” I turned toward the elevator, Ashley following close behind. Why did I go to 312? On tonight of all nights?

“Now, this is where you live, right?” Ashley asked, standing beside 412. “Because if you don’t actually live anywhere, I’m okay with that.”

“No, I really live somewhere,” I said. “There’s a door and a few windows and a few rooms. It’s a shithole, mind you, but I do live there.” I set about unlocking the locks.

Ashley watched me work my way through the system. “Paranoid?” she asked.

“You have no idea.”

The door swung open. I reached around it and flipped on the light. “After you,” I said.

She walked in. Her eyes jumped around the blank walls, pausing where things should be but weren’t. “So, you live here?”

“Yeah,” I replied.

“Live as in
just sleep
?” She paused. “How much time do you actually spend here?”

“More than I should,” I said. “Too much.”

“And what do you do?” she asked.

“I have delusional fantasies.”

Ashley walked over to the living room window. “And what do you look at? Headlines?”

“I don’t spend a lot of time looking out that one,” I said. “Or any of the others, to be honest. You know, I don’t know what I do. But, in the recent past, I’ve spent most of my time here. I’ve been in a rut. Things haven’t been going that well.”

She turned to face me. “How come?”

“I can’t even answer that. It hasn’t been any worse than any other time, I guess. It’s just me. I’ve sort of lost the will to do anything constructive with my time. But I think I’m getting it back.”

“Oh, because of me, I suppose,” she said. I scanned her face, finding some trace of sarcasm.

“I think so,” I said.

She scoffed.

“After knowing you existed, I realized I needed to change. I wanted to be the kind of person who could talk to you. Yesterday, I wasn’t.”

“You talked to me yesterday,” she shot back.

“Not really,” I countered. “I barely said anything.”

“You could have.” She walked away, turning her head towards me as she moved. It was true, I could have. Much like I might have stolen a Mondrian painting.

She sat down on my couch and threw her left leg up on the coffee table, the blue of her denim jeans looking almost gray in the light. “So, you’ve got me here. What are we going to do?”

“The remote’s around there somewhere,” I said. I watched Ashley look for it.

She looked up at me. “I can’t find it,” she said.

“Probably lost in the couch cushions. We can do this the old fashioned way.” I walked around the side of the couch and kneeled down in front of the television.

“What are we watching?” she asked, staring at the screen.

“No idea. Doesn’t really matter,” I said.

“Doesn’t really matter? After all of that shit about the quality of night time programming?” Her eyes accused me, but her mouth begged me to quit being so awkward and just do what came natural.

“No. Not really.”

“What kinds of movies do you like?” Ashley asked, chewing on a fingernail.

“Horror movies,” I said. “Bad ones.”

She turned to face me, crossing her legs. “Do you have an all-time favorite?”

“
Weasels Rip My Flesh
, hands down,” I said. “It’s really awesome.”

“Sounds like it,” she said.

We both turned to the television. It was at a commercial. My eyes wandered, drifting back to my companion.

“What?” she asked, catching my stare.

“I just want to see what you look like up close,” I said, shrugging.

Self-consciously, she brushed a piece of hair behind her ear. She appeared slightly uncomfortable.

“Hey,” I said softly. “What are you thinking?”

“Nothing,” she said. “What about you?”

“I was just thinking there’s something about you that I really like. I’m so happy to be getting to know you.”

She spread her fingers, and my fingers went over their periphery, creating an outline in the empty space. Suddenly, she pulled away. “Do you think this is going too fast?”

“Too fast?”

“I mean, it’s just been a couple of hours.”

I grew more worried with each breath I took. “And what have we done?”

“It’s more about how I feel,” she said.

“How do you feel?” I asked, terrified.

“I feel like I’ve known you forever,” she said. “But then I realize I don’t even know you. I mean, how much can you learn about someone over the course of a few hours?”

Her words hung in front of her like storm clouds. Thunder rumbled in the distance. “Maybe that sort of thing doesn’t matter,” I said.

“I just wonder about tomorrow. Will we look back and realize how retarded we were being?”

“We’ll just have to see, I guess.”

“Yeah, I guess.” She laid her head down on my chest. My fingers ran through her hair. It was silky, soft and perfect. I inhaled deeply, capturing as much of her smell as I could in the hope that, as my body used the oxygen, some part of her would become a part of me, so that when she’d walk away tomorrow, my heart destroyed and this day forgotten, I would have something.

But, for now, she was sleeping lightly on my chest. I felt her warmth pressed up against me. Her feet were curled up behind her, tucked protectively in the couch. My dungeon looked much more welcoming because of her presence. I never wanted her to leave.

I felt myself drifting away, happier than I could ever remember.

* * *

“Hey,” I heard a voice say. I opened my eyes a crack. The room was bright with light. It looked foreign, and it took a moment for me to remember where I was. And then to remember that last night’s situation hadn’t been a dream.

“Hey,” I replied, looking at the face just inches from mine. She seemed excited. Her breath smelled of chips.

“It’s morning. And I still like you,” she said, smiling sleepily.

“You do?” I asked, almost in disbelief. Her face moved toward me in slow motion and, before I knew what was happening, her lips were on mine. They were soft and delicious. I responded in kind, and ran my hand over the small of her back. I tried to visualize what I felt, then realized what I was doing and brought my attention back to those lips. She pulled away and stood up. With her help, I joined her. She leaned against me and removed her socks. Her fingers dug into my chest.

The pressure lessened, and she moved away, pulling me along backwards with both hands. She paused to kiss me again in front of the window. Holding her hips, I urged her on. She turned around and grasped my left hand with hers. She pulled me toward the bedroom.

There she tore at my shirt buttons, unfastening them frantically. I grasped the bottom edge of her long sleeved t-shirt and helped it over her head, exposing pale skin to the sun’s scrutiny. I felt as though my heart had stopped, so I brought her close to me to catch my breath. Looking at so much of her was hell on the senses.