And so began what was for Zoe a perfect morning. She emptied a full bottle of bubble bath into the black marble tub and soaked herself until she heard the clatter of room service arrive. Jiro took a shower, and she was free to eat pancakes and bacon in bed with her fingers while watching reality TV. She drank a whole pot of coffee with two jugs of cream. When she complained about the state of her hair, Jiro called the front desk and asked them to procure a hairbrush for her, which was brought up with a flourish on a silver tray. Later, she and Jiro lay side by side on top of the bedspread, each bundled in a white terry-cloth robe, scrolling through the movies.
“Garbage, garbage, garbage,” said Zoe. “Let’s go to the classics.”
“You are very sure of your opinions,” said Jiro.
“I’ve seen everything,” said Zoe. “You might know hedge funds, Jiro, but I know movies.”
“I saw on your profile that Marlon Brando is your religion.” Jiro shook his head and laughed. “What is it you like about him so much?”
“His mannerisms, his emotion, the way he breathes.” Zoe kicked her legs in the air for emphasis. “I’ve had his poster above my bed since I was ten.”
“And you have always wanted to be an actress?”
“Sure have, Jiro.”
“Why?”
Zoe shrugged. “I just love it.”
“But why?”
“I guess … well, when you’re an actor you can kind of be both seen and not seen at the same time. You’re speaking, but not your own words. You express feelings, but not your own feelings, or at least not usually. You can play a character without being judged by your own character. It’s freeing, you know? Freedom from being yourself.”
“You don’t want to be yourself?”
Jiro looked at her, and suddenly his features contorted into the same exaggerated expression of surprise she’d seen when they first met. It was like watching a crack of lightning zigzag down the center of his face. Zoe looked down, playing with the cord of her robe.
“What is that face you make?” she asked.
He brought a hand lightly to his cheek.
“It has been happening for some years now,” he said. “Since my father died. No one is quite sure why.”
“Does it bother you?”
“Very much.”
“I have something a bit like that,” said Zoe. “Well, worse really. I get these kind of … seizure things sometimes.”
Jiro turned his face toward her and widened his eyes. “You have epilepsy, Zoe?”
Zoe felt a lump form in her throat as she nodded. She so rarely said the word aloud.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” said Jiro. “Does it scare you?”
She swallowed. It was an effort to get words out. “Very much,” she managed.
Jiro nodded slowly. “You know, Aristotle believed seizures to be a sign of genius. He had them, and his teachers Plato and Socrates before him.”
Zoe smiled ruefully. “But those are all dead white men.”
Jiro laughed. “And Westerners! But we can still consider his point.”
“I definitely don’t think I’m a genius,” said Zoe.
“Who knows what you will be? You are still becoming.”
Zoe smoothed the robe over her lap and pointed her toes. “I guess that’s true,” she conceded.
“Is that why you went to the meditation group you were telling me about last night? Where you heard about Daddy Dearest? To help with the seizures?”
“Oh God! I told you about that?” Zoe buried her face in her hands. “I only went because my roommate dragged me. It’s a long story.”
“You seemed to be quite moved by it,” said Jiro. “It sounded like a special experience.”
Zoe shifted on the bed. She had no recollection of talking about that with Jiro. She closed her eyes. She wondered if it was the new seizure medication she was taking that caused these gaps in her mind when she drank, like a movie reel that suddenly runs out of film, sputtering into blackness. Or maybe it was just the way she drank. The same way that Frank drank. The same way that her mother apparently drank, when she drank.
“Do you believe in that stuff, then?” she asked. “Climaxing to Consciousness?”
“That, I had never heard of. But yes, I believe in the benefits of meditation. When I have the time, I practice zazen, which comes from Zen Buddhism.”
“See,” said Zoe, poking him in the shoulder. “I knew you were Buddhist.”