1

The day was cold and overcast, the air crisp under the gray sky, the trees bare and the birds gone. Outside people wore their coats and gloves.

I went to the train station and got my tickets. I walked up the steps. Among the expectant people, I stared at the train tracks until the train came.

On the train I remembered Deanne.

It makes no difference, I reflected.

I got off at Penn Station where crowds were always running around. The restaurant boxes were cut into the grimy walls, and the smoke of the fat hung in the air.

I walked in the crowd and then went up the long flight of gray steps. Outside traffic rushed past, polluting the air, while the endless crowd marched faster than I felt like going. The shops and buildings stood amid the roar of the traffic and the crowd. The advertisements looked down from above upon the streets. The smell of incense from the street sellers floated in the chilly air.

The iron, concrete and glass of the architecture surrounded me, tactile and implacable. I heard the bellowing of horns and whistles, and the occasional scream of brakes. The chaos of the city darkened my mood, and I walked downtown in the direction of the apartment. I could feel myself coming unglued.

Maybe I should just kill myself, I thought. Because I don't think I belong in this world.

But I just kept walking, even though I had no idea why. That was normal for me in the moments of my despair. I knew it was impossible for me ever to comprehend my world. Also, there was no escape. So, I just got on with my life. What else could I do? I wished I had the answer to all my problems, but that would mean becoming God, and there was no chance of that. I was a blob of humanity creeping on the streets of the city. I made absolutely no difference.

My mind turned again to Deanne. She was my default subject, apparently. I remembered her because I loved her, or was obsessed with her, or maybe because deep down I knew it was good for me to remember her. My motivation was obviously very obscure. Besides, it didn't matter. After all, the issues my mind chose to dwell upon would never be mine.

I remembered how much she'd hated me, and how justified she'd been in her hatred, and that brought out the tears in my eyes.

I could have done better, I sobbed internally, trapped in my little nightmare of remorse.

It made me sad to think how inextricably bound to the present I always was. Perhaps it was not really Deanne I was sad about, but about this inescapable fact. But the world was the world, and there was no escape.

Besides, under the surface there were no laws and no sanity. It was completely ridiculous for me to think I really knew why I was thinking about Deanne. But it didn't matter anyway.

I think I'm becoming feeble-minded, I thought.

Then I saw the wind move the big flag that hung over 5th Avenue.

Maybe the whole world is secretly beautiful, I thought. Deanne had been beautiful. I remembered with too much clarity the times we'd spent together.

That was the last time I was truly happy, I thought.

But Deanne had also been cruel. Eventually she'd hurt my feelings and ignored me. But it didn't sadden me only that she'd been cruel. It also saddened me how ineffectual her cruelty had been. Even the destruction of the most good, wonderful and beautiful thing was ultimately of no importance. She'd destroyed my love for her, and even that didn't really matter.

The only thing I was really sure of was the business I had to attend that night. I knew the night would come, and it did.

Later I was in the shower with my clothes on. I washed the blood from my clothes and used soap from about five different bottles on my skin. My container of dental tape and my toothbrush were in my hand for ten minutes before I used them. I didn't blink my eyes until I put my shampoo in my hair. I kept trying to fill time and space, but I felt more like I was going blind.

I got out of the shower and put on my black slacks, black socks, black boots, and the long white shirt that I never bothered to tuck in.

In the living room I put La Femme Nikita in the DVD player. Big Eight came in with our dinner and put it on the black table.

"You didn't see my point, Day."

"Eat your sandwich, Big Eight."

"Do you believe in God?"

"I believe in the rent."

"I'm not that kind of Big Eight," he said.

"You are too," I said, drinking my beer and thinking that it tasted like piss.

"How do I live now?" he asked, serious and concerned, sitting down.

"Forget about it."

"Forget about it," Big Eight said slowly. He bit his sandwich. "Forget about it."

"Forget about it," I said.

Big Eight sighed and sat back on the black leather couch. "French shit," he muttered. "I'm tired."

"Then sleep."

"I don't feel like it."

"What do you feel like?"

"What if God exists? That means we go to Hell."

"So?"

"So, that means we burn."

"So?"

"You want that?"

"You're just afraid of your feelings."

"No, I'm just afraid of going to Hell."

"What do I care what makes you afraid?"

"I just want to know what I should do."

"Oh, wait. I know."

"What?"

"How the fuck should I know?"

2

The next morning I smoked and had my iced espresso. My mood was pretty decent. The espresso helped.

I was in the kitchen wearing my black slacks, reading the Wall Street Journal at the black table, sitting on one of the black chairs. "September 11 shit," I thought. Then I put down the paper and just stared at it lying there on the table.

Big Eight came in wearing his white shirt and red and blue boxers.

"What's up?" I asked.

"What's up?" he asked, examining the silver espresso machine.

"I'm going out later," I said.

"I don't want my cut."

"Still?"

"Do you believe in God, Day?"

"Yes."

"You do?"

"No."

"You do or don't?"

"I don't know."

"What?"

The white stripes of winter sunshine came through the square window of the kitchen. Outside the bare, black trees sprung out of the sidewalk into the gray air. The bits of crowd trickled past, carrying their briefcases and dark umbrellas. Suddenly I felt like throwing my chair through the window.

At least I can breathe, I thought, tapping my fingers against the table.

I looked at the gnarled bark of the trees. The few dead leaves fluttered in the wind and the ribbons of rain streamed down. The big window dripped with the rain. I shivered, took up the paper and steeled myself to reading it again.

"I'm going out later," I said, once again releasing the paper.

"Where's that CD I burned the Police on?" I looked hard at his eyes.

He looked back. "I can't not be sorry," he explained.

"What's done is done," I said slowly.

"Forget about it," Big Eight said.

"Forget about it."

I got up to take my shower. In my room I took off my clothes, and then went to the bathroom and opened the black door. I stood on the black rug and stared at myself in the mirror. I turned the silver knobs and the water shot out. When I got inside the stall, I felt the warm spray on my skin.

I wish my whole life could feel this good, I thought.

I put soap to my skin and wondered if I'd ever be clean.

No way, I thought. No way.

Later that night at Church I danced with her. I liked looking at her: red hair, pale skin and green, oval eyes.

"I love dancing with you!" I shouted over the roar as we headed toward the back.

"Oh yeah?" she yelled.

"Yeah," I nodded.

"That's because you're good at it," she said.

"Thanks. Do you want to do it again later?"

"My boyfriend wouldn't like that," she laughed.

"Where's he?" I asked, looking around.

"Not here. He doesn't go out much."

"Weird."

"I guess. Not really."

"I wasn't slobbering all over you, was I?"

"No, you're fine."

"I'm not sweating, am I?"

"You're fine."

"My hands are ugly, aren't they?"

"I don't think so."

"Do you want to dance again? Otherwise, I think I'll go."

"Where? I don't really want to dance anymore, actually. Sorry."

"Pas grave. Can I say ‘hi' to you if I ever see you again?"

"Where're you going now?"

"My ears are ringing."

"Lillian's been talking with this asshole who totally creeps me out."

"Let me tell my friend I'm leaving," I said, going over to where Big Eight stood.

"I should've brought my motorcycle," Big Eight said to the woman he was talking to, even though the roads were completely iced over.

"My name's Deanne. What's yours?" she asked in the car.

"Day."

"Day?"

"It's short for ‘Desmond.' I'm from Baton Rouge. My mom moved us to the city before she died. My friends called me Day because I always woke up early. I can't sleep in the morning. I'm hyperactive."

"What do you do?"

"I have my investments, my trust fund, that sort of thing."

"You're rich?"

"Not rich rich."

"Me neither, but my boyfriend takes care of me. I also sell all the weed I don't smoke. What do you do if you don't work, Day?"

"Dance mostly."

"Sounds fun," she laughed.

"I go to France sometimes. Paris is my favorite city."

"Paris? Don't they hate Americans?"

"My old friends are there."

"Maybe I'll go to Euro-Disney," she said.

"Euro-Disney closed because of the smoking. Like, Mickey and Pluto were smoking."

"Maybe I'll go anyway."

"The Olsen twins were smoking."

"I know," she said quietly.

We were lucky enough to park remotely close to Con Panna. We rushed on the sidewalk in the chilly air, laughing and being silly. Inside we undid our coats in the warm, smoky air. After getting our drinks at the bar, we walked back and sat at my table where the music wasn't so deafening and I could see all the people who came in. We sat smoking and drinking. We also smoked her pot. I was getting pretty wasted.

"So what's your last name?" she asked.

"My friends just call me Day."

"That's cool," she said.

"I'm just talking about me."

"OK."

"That rum and cranberry juice good?" I asked.

"Yes."

She'd smoked her last cigarette and then had to bum her smokes from me. I kept staring at her freckles and her wild red hair. Her skin was fair, and the mole under her nose was really cute.

"My boyfriend gets very jealous," she said.

"We're just being friends."

"That all?" she smiled.

"You tell me."

"How should I know?" she asked.

"I don't care either way," I said.

"How romantic," she laughed.

"I'm honest."

"My boyfriend would crush you if he every caught us together. He's huge."

"That's huge. Got it."

"Did I tell you how jealous he gets?"

"This is America. I'd just kill him."

"Tough talk."

"What about you?"

"What do you want to know?"

"If I can see you again. What do you want to know?"

"If I can get away from him."

"Your boyfriend?"

"Jake, yeah. I'm sick of him. I want out. Our relationship is like dead."

"Then leave. What's the problem?"

"Just leave, huh? First of all, he'd kill me. Second, how do I live? I don't want to work. I like my lifestyle. I go shopping whenever I want. And don't even say the word ‘school.' But I'm still getting out. I don't care."

"You don't love him?"

"Nope."

"Could you ever again?"

"No way. Absolutely not."

"You're so sure."

"Totally sure."

"Did he cheat on you?"

"He always did. But I still loved him. But then I didn't. He got fat and mean and slept all day or sat around on the couch. He could tell I'd lost my feelings for him. So, he starts begging and promising. He promised he'd get his shit together and not cheat. You know, he tried to be romantic? Anyway he promised this shit, but by then it was too late. I was like immune, like I'd been sick or something. I wasn't sick anymore. I was just sick of him."

"Makes sense."

"I think so. But you don't fuck with Jake. He said he'd kill me if I left. He said he'd kill me if he found me fucking around. I believe it because he's like obsessed. I can barely go out with my girls on the weekend, even though he never takes me out. What's worse, I even had to agree to sleep with him every two weeks. Jesus, I can't stand it. He's totally unresponsive to my feelings. But I'm afraid of what he'd do if I don't. I'm definitely leaving. I still have big dreams."

"That's cool."

"He can't keep me forever."

"Nope."

"I'll never love him again. The longer I stay with him the more I hate his guts. He's disgusting."

"Guess so."

"I already know where I'm going."

"Where?"

"Someplace he won't find me. My friend moved there. We hadn't talked in like forever, but we started again because of the Internet. Lilly might even come out like to visit when I go."

"Sounds good."

"He'll never find me."

"Guess not."

Deanne and I smoked and drank, listening to the music and watching the people chatter at the bar. I would look at her when I thought it wouldn't make her too self-conscious. I liked the smoothness of her skin and the smell of her perfume. Her hands were lovely, her neck lovely, her forehead lovely. I wanted her, but I wanted to be tender and gentle.

Eventually she got tired and asked me to take her back to her apartment. She gave me her email address before I dropped her off. From my car I watched her wrap her black trench coat around herself as she walked over the slushy garbage toward the gray apartment building, her bunch of red curls pulled around in the wind.

3

The next morning Big Eight still wasn't around. That meant the rest of the pie in the refrigerator was mine. I put it in the oven and drank Evian to fend off the nausea from my hangover.

That afternoon I couldn't sleep, so I just hung out. I read The Caretaker, watched Girl, Interrupted, drank two iced lattes, ate three pieces of nicotine gum, did my laundry, marinated the steaks I'd got off Reno's truck in my homemade sauce, burned a couple CDs, basically I just doing all those things I did when wasting my life. It felt like Christmas when the sun finally faded. I thought about the city lights bursting the darkness, the crowds crushing the sidewalks and dance floors, the beautiful women and men, the filthy, disgusting money, the drinking and drugs, the endlessly shifting extremes of my dual life.

I'm still here and alive, I thought, at that moment completely amazed.

Later I went out to the club and met Chris and Reno. I hadn't seen them since the fall, which meant I'd waited long enough for the memory of what we'd done to fade into the past.

"We're going to the restaurant," Reno said after we'd said our hellos.

"Where's Deanne?" I asked.

"I don't know," Chris said gloomily. "We don't hang together these days."

"Dommage."

"It doesn't matter."

"Nope."

"Did you hear about Sam?" Reno asked.

"No," I said.

"Sliced his wrists."

"How come?"

"The very same Deanne," Chris said.

"Shit."

"Check out Stephanie and Sandra," Reno said.

"Where?"

"Under the exit sign."

"They friends again?"

"Not just that," Reno said. "They're making that movie that they'd been planning."

"You mean the vampire movie?"

"Huh?" Reno asked. "Nobody knows what it's about. The producer's from the South."

"We invested in it," Chris said brightly.

"I thought those two would never talk again," I laughed.

"This movie's gonna rock your world," Chris announced.

"I don't know," I said. "Stephanie's hair's like mine and I don't like my hair anymore. I'm getting it buzzed."

"She's the most talented person I know," Chris explained. "I don't know," I said. "Have you seen Sandra's paintings? That's talent. Sandra carries her."

"That's because Sandra loves her," Reno laughed.

"Exactly. Stephanie's trading on that," I said. "Sandy's getting used."

"So what else is new?" Reno said.

"You guys got it all wrong," Chris observed.

"Oh yeah?"

"Steph's brilliant. She's gonna be rich by the time she's thirty," Chris concluded.

"No," I said." "And even if she is, so what?"

"There he is," Reno said.

Tall, muscular and stubble-faced, with slicked back graying hair, Jimmy came over and Reno took him aside. They both smoked and talked intensely, staring at each other's eyes. Then they nodded.

"How's your old man?" I asked Reno as we left.

"He doesn't spend as much time at the restaurant."

"Yeah," I sighed.

"He knows how you like to see him," Reno said. "Come over to eat on Friday."

Reno's dad wasn't at the restaurant when we got there. In fact, the place was empty except for the dish dogs. We led Jimmy to the basement to make the call.

Chris and Reno hated Jimmy. It all started with the situation with Reno's little cousin. But Jimmy's friendship with this Russian who'd recently come to the city was the latest problem. In fact, I wasn't even sure Jimmy was coming out of that basement.

But he made the call. Then we had to endure his stupid jokes and bragging about fucking the waitresses at his bar in the ass.

Eventually three trench-coated goons knocked on the downstairs door. The shit was very good and Chris sold me two sheets of dream very cheap. Reno gave Jimmy the keys to the downtown apartment where the money was. Jimmy bid us his usual ostentatious farewell.

"Whatever," I said after he'd left.

"Cafe Citrus?" Chris sighed.

We went there and Reno had the French toast. Chris had the vegetarian omelette. I ordered yogurt.

"Come on, that's not food," Chris said.

"Have one of the entrees," Reno said.

"OK, give me the beef yogurt," I said. The waiter seemed confused, but I told him to consult with the chef.

Afterwards we had espresso, smoked and talked.

4

The next afternoon Big Eight and I tripped on the tangerine.

My mouth tasted metallic, and I was annoyed by the buzzing feeling in the back of my head. So, I had two beers and ten cigarettes. I watched Say Anything, Riff Raff, and Pecker. In fact, I stared at the screen so long without blinking that my head hurt. Eventually I had to force myself to close my eyes and just listen.

Afterwards over email I asked Deanne to come out with me later. Then Big Eight and I broiled our steaks and had our salad, wine, pasta and garlic bread. We also had the computer downloading Jane's Addiction, Soundgarden, Alice in Chains, other random shit we liked. I listened over and over to Tool's cover of Led Zep's "No Quarter."

Locked in a place where no one goes, I thought to myself. It made a strange sort of sense, although I couldn't really explain why.

"What's up for later?" Big Eight asked, patting his belly and smoking my cigarettes.

"I wanted to hang with that girl I met," I said.

"She your girlfriend?"

"Maybe."

"You mind if I take this? I'm hanging with Julien later."

"Julien? Really?"

"Yeah. He's back; at least for now."

"With Deb?"

"Yeah. They went to Greece for Christmas. Then they came here."

"He working?"

"Not with me."

"He want to?"

"Maybe."

"OK. Call me later."

"OK."

I checked my email. "I can't come out tonight," Deanne's message said. I wrote her back asking when she could get away. Then I went out.

At Mother's I left the floor when I was hassled by the ugliest guy in the club. His moustache and floppy ears threatened to explode my entire psychological equilibrium. I wanted to go sleep for fourteen hours, if not cut my wrists. What happened to the fucking dress code, I wondered.

I went to the bar and woke up when the cute boy I'd been looking at finally come over.

"Pay for my drink," he said.

"Here," I said, giving him the rest of mine.

"I don't want yours," he said.

"Just drink it. It's not infected."

"That's what they all say," he laughed.

"Oh yeah?"

"Maybe," he said, downing the drink.

I motioned the bartender for two more.

"Where we going, baby?" Joshua asked in my car. "Your place?" He rested his head back and closed his eyes. I wanted to pull over the car, but I stepped on the pedal instead.

We went to the downtown apartment. I got my usual place in the parking garage. He wanted the cocaine from the black bag in the kitchen, so I got it down for him.

"Have you ever done speedballs?" he asked, snorting from the little black spoon.

"Back in the day maybe."

His white pants, white shirt and black boots were all very cute, but I still wanted them off. His dark hair stood in stark contrast to his clear, pale face. I liked the way the bones jutted from his hairless chest.

"So," he said.

"What?"

"Do you know how fucking handsome you are? Except for that scar, but that's sexy too. You have the most beautiful hair," he said, reaching over.

"I'm having it buzzed."

"Sexy. What do you do, gorgeous?"

"Nothing."

"I wish I did enough nothing to afford your car. Is everything you own black?"

"What do you do?"

"Work at Diesel."

"They discount the clothes you buy?"

"All the time."

"Cool."

"No, very cool. So, are we gonna just sit here and chit-chat or are you gonna fuck me?"

"The latter?"

"Darling," he said, getting up and dropping to his knees in front of me. I stood up. He unbuttoned my jeans and exclaimed, "Just as I suspected! Black to the boxers! And what's this? It doesn't take much with you, does it?"

He sucked my cock before he put on the condom. I pulled down his pants from behind and bent him over. He was groaning and jacking off while I fucked his ass. I came hard, standing up but leaning my weight down on my stomach. Then I fell back on the couch breathing heavily.

"Blow me," he whispered, climbing on me.

"No," I gasped.

"Whatever," he sighed, and played with my cock while he jerked off. I got his phone number and took him back to Mother's.

"Call me," he said when I dropped him off.

"Bien sur. Salut."

I went back to the club, blasting Massive Attack. I parked behind the fence because all the spaces were filled. Then I went through the side door.

"Day," Reno said, registering me floating through the crowd.

"What's up, Reno? Where's Chris?"

"The back room."

"Hey, guess what? Julien's back."

"Oh yeah?" Reno asked.

"Big Eight's with him."

"He still with Deb?"

"Uh-huh."

"Let's get Chris."

Chris was at the card game at the wooden table under the speaker that pumped in the deep house from the dance floor. The cocaine was flowing and the guys at the table were all talking excitedly. I wanted to take out my pack of cigarettes and smoke, but I didn't because I knew I had to cut back.

"Hey Day," Chris shouted, blinking his eyes open. "Where you been?"

"Let's go upstairs," Reno said, motioning for him to get up.

"Julien's back," I told Chris when we'd shut the door to the upstairs room.

"No shit? It's perfect. Jimmy gets cooked when we're eating the old man's special smoked mozzarella."

"No," Reno said.

"Why not?" Chris asked.

"Because it's personal," Reno replied.

Big Eight called soon afterwards.

"You with Julien?" I asked.

"Yeah."

"Let me talk with him."

"Day" said Julien."

"Julien. What's up?"

"Nothing. Deb says hi."

"How's she?"

"Good. Thanks for the dream."

"De rien. I'm with Chris and Reno."

"The crew, huh? How they doing?"

"Good. Chris isn't hanging much with Deanne these days."

"Good for him. What's up?"

"Can you come to the club?"

"Yeah, of course. Deb would love to. We'll be over later."

"He's coming over later," I said, putting the phone back in my leather jacket. Chris and Reno nodded.

"Big Eight in?" Reno asked after we'd smoked Chris's pot.

"He doesn't like this sort of thing," I coughed, exhaling the rest of the cloud of smoke I'd sucked down my throat.

"What's with him lately?" Chris asked, opening his eyes. "Leon said he was in St. Mathew's the other day praying and lighting all the candles."

"Big Eight hasn't been around," Reno said.

"No, I haven't been around. He's been with me."

Soon Big Eight showed up with Julien and Deb. "Old friends from the neighborhood," I sighed gratefully.

"So what's this about you and Deanne?" Deb asked Chris.

"Ask her," Chris said sullenly.

"I don't know why you mess with that girl," Deb said.

"Sammy's her latest conquest," Reno said. "Sliced up his wrists when she dumped him."

"He OK?" Deb asked, alarmed.

"Yeah," Reno said. "He'll be fine as long as he doesn't repeat himself."

"Poor Sam," Deb said. "He'd go on the subway with us, remember? He was the sweetest boy."

"Too sweet," Reno said. "He's living on the Island now with his grandparents."

"Maybe it was bound to happen," Deb sighed.

"I hated that fat bitch so much I wouldn't even give her Pop Rocks," Julien remarked.

"I remember that!" Chris laughed. "You remember that, Day?"

"That was pretty heavy," I smiled.

"Deanne was always different," Reno said. "The whole neighborhood wanted her. She fucked that girl Jennifer that Sandra loved so much. Then Jennifer moved to Rhode Island after Deanne dumped her, remember? Sandy was depressed for like two years after that."

"Guess I'm like that now," Chris sighed.

"Check your wrists," I said. "At least you're not Sam."

"Yeah," Chris said, his eyes brightening.

"Well, if she loved anyone, she loved you, Chrissy," Deb said.

"Day was always the beautiful one before he got old and his face got slashed. But you were cute too. I think she really felt for you, at least as much as she could."

"Yeah, Deanne was the only girl in the neighborhood who wasn't crazy for Day," Chris laughed.

"Just because Day got laid doesn't mean the girls were crazy about him," Reno said. "I mean, look at the guy! No offense, Day, but you're too skinny. The babes need the big guy. Like me, I got meat on my bones," he said proudly, looking down at his large body.

"You're what the babes need?" Deb asked.

"Deanne hated me like Julien hated her," I laughed. "I'll be...wraaaapped around your fin—ger!"

"Not always," Deb said.

"Even the fact that she fucked around wasn't interesting," I said.

"And why'd she hate you again?" Deb laughed.

"Fuck that fat bitch," Julien said.

"Let's go to Con Panna," I offered.

Con Panna was pretty empty when we got there. They went to my table in the back, and I went to get the beers. I walked up to the sullen bartender who was standing still behind the bar, staring at me.

"What's the drink of the day?" I asked cheerfully.

"You want to know the drink of the day? I'll show you the drink of the day," he said. Then he unzipped his jeans and pulled out his dick, pissing in the first dirty beer glass he took from the dish rack. Then he slammed the glass on the bar. "There's your drink of the day," he said with finality.

"That supposed to be funny?" I asked, bored.

"No, this is!" he shouted, tossing the urine from the glass in my face.

"All right, all right," I said, wiping off my face with the nearest napkin and looking in his intense, empty eyes. "Give me one of those."

When I got to the table, however, I noticed that all I had was the bunch of Corona Light that I'd planned on getting in the first place.

5

Two weeks later in the morning it was cold, windy and a little snowy . The sky was metal gray and the clouds were jet black. My hair was buzzed so close I was almost bald. I wore my black leather trench coat and my big black work boots. I was with Chris in his Jeep. Big Eight and Reno were on their way in Reno's Cadillac.

"The way I figure it, the world is too filled up," Chris said.

"Exactly."

"If we kill the extra people, then we get their stuff, and we help deal with the population problem."

"Yep."

"So, it's good, what we're doing."

"Yeah. Otherwise, they bother you," I said.

"We can't just send Jimmy away," Chris said. "He'd come back."

"Even if he didn't come back, he'd still bother me," I said.

"You must really hate the guy," Chris said.

"No."

"Then why would he still bother you?"

"Everyone does," I said. "Except my friends."

"Everyone?"

"Except my friends."

"How come?"

"Because I can feel them existing," I said.

"If you killed them all, they'd still bother you, because you'd feel guilty about it."

"Yeah," I said.

"Unless you're so psychotic that you don't care," he laughed.

"Yeah," I laughed.

"So, killing everybody isn't the answer."

"Maybe not always."

"But with Jimmy it's different," he laughed.

"We won't feel guilty about him," I agreed.

We took the Verazzano and made it to Jimmy's house in New Jersey. The goons let us through the gate and the front door. Later on I wondered whether that was their biggest mistake. But then they didn't check us well enough. Also, it's important to remember that it may have been just knowing us in the first place. We waited for Jimmy in the big, ugly living room, the predominant color of which was brown or maybe greenish brown. Chris sat on the brown or greenish brown couch. I stood on the brown or greenish brown carpet, feeling excited and disgusted. I wondered whether Reno and Big Eight would get there before I started. I very much doubted they would.

"Christopher! Desmond! To what do I owe this honor?" Jimmy announced as he walked in. I think those were his last words.

"This sucks," Chris said later, back in the Jeep as we were speeding away.

"So?"

"Day, are you crazy or just stupid?"

"Are you scared?"

"You're crazy, man. You keep getting worse and worse. You're gonna have to explain this to Reno."

"The way I see it, it's like shoes," I said.

"What? The old man's gonna be pissed," he sighed.

"Too late now."

"Yeah," he said.

6

The next day the cold rain fell hard and washed over the city.

I hope the rain keeps up, I thought.

I sat in the downtown apartment and stared out the window. Umbrellas bobbed up and down on the sidewalk. The wind blew the rain and I saw the miserable looks on the faces on the street. They pulled their coats over their necks.

I put my hands in the pockets of my black slacks because I was cold.

Outside the traffic overwhelmed the rainy streets. We're destroying the earth, I thought. But I'm still here.

Then I laughed even though I was alone.

Later I thought how I didn't want Chris and Reno to turn on me. I was afraid that they might try to blame the whole thing on me. But that seemed far-fetched. Still, I had to think and be very careful. After all, it's hard to predict the future.

At least I'm alive, I reflected. At that time I was losing my ability to care. Maybe it was the guilt over the things I'd done that was making me so nihilistic.

I still felt cold but I didn't feel like turning up the heat in the apartment because I was afraid it would make me sleep. Despite my nihilistic indifference, I still wasn't ready to fall asleep. I want to be successful, to be good at my job, I thought. I don't want my friends to be mad at me. I want to be alive, maybe just to fuck everything up worse.

But, above all, I wanted to be alive because in the depths of my heart I was happy.

By nightfall I was feeling calm. I was thinking about Deanne. It was annoying how unavailable she was because of the thing with Jake. It seemed like nothing very interesting would come of our friendship. I felt angry at her because I was annoyed over the situation. But I knew that probably wasn't fair. Besides, the main feeling I had was indifference.

Life is not really something I can be sure about, I reflected. But that doesn't change the fact that it's nice to be alive.

Then:

I wonder if I'll ever be happy. I just can't be sure. Maybe I'm too impure in my mind and spirit. But maybe it's only because I'm not dishonest enough with myself to pretend. No one has to right to judge me. It's only something that's necessary. I wish everyone and everything would just let me be. I want everything to be easy and understandable. I have the unreasonable need for the impossible. I resent the sunshine unless the sun is shining for me. I hate everyone if they don't want to help me. I hate myself as well, and my own impenetrable confusion. I hate everyone who's ever hurt me. I hate the fact that my hate makes no difference. I want my life back. I want the chance to make Deanne happy. I feel old and broken. I feel like the old, broken toy that gets thrown aside by the little girl. I don't want these walls to close in on me yet. I'm not ready to say goodbye.

Later Deanne emailed me that she'd be at Church that night. I met her there and we danced. I felt the hard beat of the music slamming me across the dance floor even though I barely moved. I was so happy that I wondered about the meaning of life.

What will happen in the world after I die? I thought.

I went into the bathroom and it was filthy. I drove her to the downtown apartment. We kissed for the first time. Her lips were so soft. Her whole body was so soft, unbelievably soft.