And I say, That’s a lie and you know it.
She says, Have you thought about talking to someone?
I laugh, because that is clearly a ridiculous idea.
Mia sighs and she says, I’m being serious. You used to have energy for me. For fun. Now you’re a gaping black hole, and you’re sucking up all my energy.
She says, I feel mad at you all the time, and I don’t want to feel like that.
She says, I don’t know if I can do this anymore.
I’m thinking, Why is she attacking me like this?
And then I grab my jacket and my keys, and I say, Then don’t.
And as I’m about to go out the door, I say, You know why we don’t have sex? Because you got fat.
I’m not proud of it, but it is what it is.
S
IX
A plinky-plonk muzak version of ‘Looking with My Eyes’ plays quiet on the speakers.
The next night, and I’m back at Monsieur Donut. The same music on loop all day, the same striplight glare, the same customers – no wonder Zit Boy behind the counter looks like he’s about to off himself.
Death by doughnut.
The cafe is just as busy as it was yesterday. Everything is the same. Good.
Who has a business card with just a name and no contact details, anyway?
Wait. Everything is the same, except the table me and Charles Hu were sitting at by the window yesterday – there’s a couple there, holding hands, staring into each other’s eyes like a pair of retarded morons.
I go up to them and stand there. Just stand there, like I just recovered from some serious head trauma but I’m not all there anymore.
Staring at them with my mouth open and my tongue lolling out.
The young guy looks up at me. Picture a nerd – thick-lensed wire-frame glasses, long hair parted right down the centre and seasoned with little flecks of dandruff – not the kind to start something, that’s for sure.
I don’t even look away, I don’t even move an inch.
What I do, I start making this low, rumbling sound that comes from my gut.
I drool a little, making sure the string of saliva oozes onto the table.
Overkill, maybe, but you can’t half-arse these things.
The young guy, he has no idea what to do, he’s never seen anything like it. He’s just staring at me, thinking through his options.
Before he can do anything though, his girl stands up and grabs his arm. He glides back and away from the table.
Why is he sitting on a chair with wheels?
Oh.
Ah well. Table now free, I sit down and wait.
See? Act crazy, no one messes with you.
It’s quarter to ten, fifteen minutes before Charles Hu appeared out the blue yesterday and asked if he could sit with me.
There’s a half-eaten doughnut and a Coke left on the table, so I munch, and I slurp, and I kill me some time.
Do you mind if I sit here?
My watch says 10 pm.
I wouldn’t be here if I minded, I say.
He takes a seat in front of me. The white hair threw me yesterday, I guessed he was in his sixties. Looking at him now, I think I was a decade over.
It’s the eyes – they’re slick and bright and they shine. You know, like the way little kids’ eyes shine.
Another sharp suit he’s got on. Navy this time, hanging perfect on a body that’s lean like a featherweight’s.
He just sits there, looking at me. Smiling.
