揂lright.?I set aside my empty cup as Hazel leans against me, growing visibly tired. 揗y only suggestion would be to have smoother transitions in a short set like that. You抮e cramming a lot into a small time window, so you don抰 have the luxury of pausing and letting the laughs die out from one joke to another. You have to find a way to connect them.?
She nods, then smiles sweetly at Hazel before she signs, 揂re you tired? I have more room on my side if you want to come over here and lie down??Hazel looks to me for approval before she moves over there and settles.
揑 have a hard time coming up with some of the connections because that抯 just not how my brain works. Each bit comes to me when it happens, I write it down, and I work it into a set. The connecting piece is just?me.?
揥ell, that抯 where you gotta tweak the truth. Come up with something or use someone else arbitrarily. Like, I don抰 know厰 I search my brain for an example. 揙ne time I used my mom. I talked about how she and I were in a fight because of something I抎 used in my set. And then I went on to tell them about how she proceeded to say extraordinarily weird shit during that visit, things that I couldn抰 not share with them. Then, when it was time to transition to something else that was a little disjointed, I made up some more dialogue with my mom and used that to connect it.?
揑 remember that,?she says, eyes rounding. And I抦 immediately disturbed by how proud I feel to have something to offer. She looks up at the ceiling in contemplation. 揋od, why didn抰 I think of that? I could抳e started by saying my dad dragged me to church, which is true. And then talked about him being worried about my love life?Then I could have even tied it back to him somehow with me not having my phone.?
揧eah. Keep it simple, though,?I reply. 揝ay he didn抰 have a charger or say it broke on Christmas Day or something. I also thought about how you could say you were at a family event and you could pick out a specific kid that was at this made-up event to talk about those bits where the kids trolled you.?
揗m-hm. Yeah, I don抰 have any siblings or anything, though. So, no nephews or nieces to speak of. I try to avoid completely fabricating things, you know??
揟otally agree. There has to be some kernel of truth or at least something that could be true.?
She nods and grabs a napkin and a pen to scribble triumphantly. I can just make out the top of Hazel抯 side as she breathes steadily, fast asleep.
揌ow are you so good with kids if you抮e not around them much??I ask, curiosity getting the best of me.
揑抦 a tutor and an aide at Brooks Elementary for ASL students there. It抯 only a few days a week, which is why I was bartending at the club until fuck-pig Lance canned me.?
揊uck-pig??I wince.
She finishes whatever she抯 writing and grins at it, biting the tip of her thumb with a quiet laugh, too distracted to answer me.
揑f you want, I抣l see if I can put the good word in with Lance. Get you your job back.?Even as I say it, I feel my lips turn down.
揥hy do you look like you抮e holding in a fart??
揃ecause I don抰 know why I just keep offering shit.?
揥ell, you won抰 hear me try to turn you down. I am a twenty-three-year-old woman sleeping on a bunk bed so that I can afford a shared room in L.A. Last night, my bunkmate-slash-roommate, Marissa, woke me up to ask me to move to the top bunk so that she and her boyfriend could have sex in the bottom one.?
I grimace. 揟hat lacks ingenuity. I抦 sure there抯 a perfectly good floor there they could抳e used.?
揟he floor抯 the only thing left in that place that hasn抰 been tarnished by their sexcapades. They already broke the toilet seat off the hinges, stained the suede couch, and got the cops called on them the last time they did it in the backyard?Besides, Marissa shares her weird sex stories with me, for material, in exchange.?
I laugh through my nose. 揘ot out there collecting your own weird sex stories, huh??
揘o. You offering to mentor me through some of that, too??She wags her brows until I rear back, horrified at myself for letting this conversation get away from me, my daughter sleeping next to her lap. Her expression falls.
揧ou抮e just?don抰 get me wrong, Jones. You抮e fine. There抯 nothing wrong with you, or anything.?Good God, man.
揜elax, grandpa. I was kidding.?Oh, thank God. My ego doesn抰 have legs to stand on for it to be offended by the grandpa remark. She抯 attractive and bright, but outside of my role as a father, I抳e been living in a consistent fog. Without knowing how to梠r having any desire to梡ut it into words to this person I just met, I know, undoubtedly, that my fog would only dull her shine.
揑 am interested in you in a professional capacity, though, Farley. Not that my word is gold or anything, but I at least think you抮e good enough to make it.?
NOW
揕ife is a tragedy when seen in close-up, but a comedy in long-shot.?- Charlie Chaplin
FARLEY
I manage to avoid Meyer for five days.
The way I snuck out of his house the morning after deciding our scheme may as well have been the walk of shame, rather than the neurotic panic-run-after-we-touched-four-times that it was.
He avoids me just as much for the first two days, before he breaks radio silence with texts that seem innocuous, that I still manage to apply a deeply weird vibe to.
3 Days A.D. （After Decision）
Meyer: Jones, we need to talk.
About what, I wonder? My own stream of consciousness sounds obtuse even to myself.
Is he going to want to practice? Jesus, the idea of that makes my cheeks and chest go hot?I抎 certainly thought of suggesting it myself, but?Well, I couldn抰 claim that my intentions would be entirely innocent. I know myself better than that.
And, no?Meyer never fails to remind me that I am 搕oo young?
My mind trips on memories of those few occasions over the years, though. The ones where glances lingered and actions were spurred on by some external force or event; a small collection of maybe-almost抯。 But outside of those, he抯 always responded to my sarcastic flirting with abject horror. I抳e managed to keep the flirting to a minimum since we added the professional element to our relationship. Even when I抳e slipped he抯 been tolerant at best. Allowing myself to consider him sharing my attraction would be like pulling on new skin. Like stretching freshly healed chapped lips. Too easy to crack and bleed. Must smother some more, instead.
Still. That night feels like a turning point. A decision was made, and there抯 not going to be some Sliding Doors type scenario available to me, for me to see how it will play out, and choose another direction should it all go wrong. If I go through this Decision door, that抯 that.
3 Days A.D.
4 Missed Calls from Meyer
Meyer: We should probably establish some rules and guidelines, Fee. And I need to talk to you anyway. About after the tour. So, call or text me back, please.
Marissa: Why does Meyer keep asking me if I抳e talked to you? He seems even more agitated than normal.
4 Days A.D.
Meyer: For real, Jones. Clay just called me, and they want to set up a meeting date. You agreed to this.
Marissa: I have tutoring with Hazel again tonight. What抯 the update on the weirdness with you and Meyer? I抎 like the heads up if I抦 stepping into anything between my boss and my closest friend?
5 Days A.D.
Meyer: Damn it, Fee. Are we in sixth grade? We establish being boyfriend and girlfriend and now we don抰 talk? CALL ME BACK.
I screenshot that latest text because that would make a good bit someday梥omeday when I can look back and laugh at all this. In fact, I specifically remember my sixth-grade boyfriend Nick Farnum, and how we entered our deep relationship via origami folded notes passed between friends. And then we never spoke or made eye contact again.