What happened? Quinn was alarmed.
The Doctor — Nothing. He Took Them. It Just Made Me Sad About My Mothers. Michelle burst into tears.
Oh! Quinn panicked at the sight of Michelle in tears. Partly she wanted to pet her new friend, but she was also aware that her new friend was sort of crazy. She didn’t want to get in too deep. She couldn’t tell if having a drug bond with someone was a light bond or a deep bond. It felt deep when they were high but so did everything. By the light of day, there by a bus stop in a random part of the city with this crying, trembling wreck of a girl, the sort of girl a person sees and says, Give her a cheeseburger! — scrawny and alive with wild emotion — Quinn wondered what the fuck she was doing. What, if anything, did she owe this person?
The bus came and the pair climbed aboard. At the back of the vehicle Michelle quietly wept. Her emotions were now almost 100 percent chemically regulated. She felt happy when high, nervous and tragic while crashing, peaceful as the intensity faded, optimistic as she planned her evening’s chemical intake — just alcohol tonight, just one beer, just a cocktail, maybe one line, the rest of the leftover nub of heroin and then no more until next week, no cocaine until the weekend, okay okay okay.
Quinn was not heartless. Her hand came to rest upon Michelle’s neck and stayed there, bouncing with the jumble of the bus. It felt nice. Michelle appreciated it. She didn’t think things were going anywhere with Quinn, but that was fine. Where was anywhere, anyway? All anyone had was this moment. Michelle was in the moment. She liked the way she was. People adopted lifelong courses of religious study to try to achieve a state that came naturally to her.
Quinn’s heart leaped when she realized this random bus skirted her neighborhood. Strangely, Quinn did not live in the Mission. She lived in some other neighborhood where, like the Mission, the streets were numbered, but they were not streets, they were avenues. People called that part of town the Avenues. It seemed sinister to Michelle, like the Mission’s evil twin. What did people do out there? Apparently, they watched The X-Files with their husbands. Michelle still could not understand that Quinn had such a thing.
What’s Your Husband Like? Michelle asked Quinn suddenly, realizing she had never inquired.
He’s really nice. He’s stable. I was having a lot of panic attacks when I married him. She paused. He takes glassblowing classes.
Is He Taller Than You? Michelle asked. Quinn nodded.
Is He Going To Let You Come To My Going-Away Party? Michelle asked. Quinn lifted her hand and bopped Michelle in the head.
It’s not the 1800s, Quinn laughed. I don’t have to ask him for permission to go to a party.
What About Sleep Over At My House? Michelle asked. Do You Have To Ask Him? Does He Care?
Quinn shrugged. He doesn’t love it.
What About Drugs, Does He Do Drugs?
No. I do drugs.
Michelle nodded. It didn’t actually sound like a bad arrangement. Sort of like a parent. Michelle would like someone to take care of her, too. But she’d had that with Andy. Something was always expected in return. It wasn’t worth it.
What About Driving Me To Los Angeles? Michelle asked. Is He Going To Be Okay With You Driving Me To Los Angeles Now That My Van Is Gone?
I’m not driving you to Los Angeles! Quinn laughed a nervous laugh and hit Michelle in the head once more.
You Have To, Michelle whined. How Else Will I Get There?
Can’t someone else drive you? Quinn asked.
No. You’re My Only Friend. She laid her head on Quinn’s shoulder and began to weep anew. She had meant it as a joke but it was too real. Stitch and Ziggy and Linda and Andy all felt variously betrayed by her, and she by them.
Oh, come on. Quinn shook Michelle from her shoulder.
You Kind Of Are. Michelle looked deeply, tearfully, into Quinn’s eyes, which meant into her eyeglasses, which reflected herself back to her. She looked like a wreck. It was not helping her situation. She would not be able to seduce Quinn, she was too grotesque. She would have to draw on the girl’s pity and her inability to say no.
How? I don’t have a car.
Your Husband Doesn’t Have A Car?
No, he rides a bike.
Oh, one of those. Does He Have A Credit Card? Michelle asked. Can One Of You Rent Me A U-Haul?
This is insane, Quinn said in a brief moment of clarity before she capitulated to Michelle’s tears and agreed to rent a U-Haul and drive her to Los Angeles in the morning.
13
Michelle’s going-away party began at the Eagle, a bar Michelle did not particularly like. The out-side was so dark and the heat lamps made her hot and sleepy and occasionally ignited a clump of dead twigs and leaves. She could never find who she was looking for, and there was no place to sit unless you pulled yourself up on the tables and then your dangling legs made your feet fall asleep. But it was big enough to accommodate a large gathering and you could smoke outside, and if you hadn’t eaten all day you could feed yourself from the wooden barrel of peanuts by the door, so that was good. The after-party would be at Michelle’s.
Stitch was excited about this, as Stitch was generally amenable to an after-party. Ekundayo hated after-parties. She had to breathe down the violence she felt whenever Michelle and Stitch brought one home. But this one was different. Michelle was finally leaving. It was a true celebration. Ekundayo was not joyful enough to join the festivities but she would not bust them up, would not drag her stick through the living room on her way to piss in the water closet, glaring at the little doped-up fools snorting lines off the dumpstered coffee table. Michelle had dragged that coffee table back from the Marina, a nice neighborhood. Andy had arranged a couple’s counseling session for them there during the Linda era. The counseling had gone poorly. They’d spent most of the hour unpacking why Andy didn’t like going to the movies. What’s wrong with the movies? the therapist, who’d had a lot of plastic surgery, had asked in a slightly shaming voice.
I don’t know, Andy shrugged, uneasy. I just don’t like going to the movies.
Well, maybe Michelle would like to go to the movies? the therapist suggested in a more playful yet still scornful tone.
Yeah! Michelle chimed in. The therapist liked her! The therapist was on her side, would understand why Michelle had to look elsewhere to get her needs met. Andy wouldn’t even go to the movies with her! What was that about? But when the focus shifted to Michelle, she bristled. I Don’t Think Long-Term Relationships Are Inherently More Important Than Short Relationships, she said airily. We Learn All Sorts Of Lessons From All Sorts Of People, Who’s To Say Which Relationships Are More Meaningful? Michelle was busting out the big hippie guns.
So, the therapist began, do you not want a long-term relationship with Carlotta?
I Want The Relationship To Be What It Is In The Moment, Michelle said. I Don’t Want To Label It. I Want It To Be Free. I Just Want To Go To The Movies Sometimes. She tried bringing it back around to the movies, she’d liked that part. The rest of the conversation felt so stressful. Why were they even there? What did Andy want from her? It must have been so expensive, the therapist, and Michelle wasn’t paying for it, not even a little.