TWENTY-ONE
“Hey, Barry!”
It’s Saturday morning. I slept last night instead of working. It’s actually morning. It’s eleven-thirty, and I’m not only awake, but my body is suffused with energy. It feels like a miracle.
“Barry, come here,” I yell again. I know that he heard me the first time. He shuffles down the hall and leans in the doorway. I pat the side of the bed next to me. “No, come here,” I repeat. I smile like a little girl.
He smiles back, and his eyes glitter with the same lovesick intensity that I used to see in his gaze back when we first met… the old days, when there was nobody else in the room unless they found themselves part of an unfortunate audience. Sometimes there’s still a hint of affection left over between us.
“Is somebody flirting?” he asks, collapsing onto the bed and pulling me down next to him. I wriggle out of his grasp, but then I jump on top of him so hard that he groans.
“You’re crushing my balls,” he says, pushing me over. I climb back up, and this time I sit on his chest.
“Ow! Fuck! Now you’re crushing my ribs. You’ve already broken four of them…”
“I have done no such thing!” Seriously, I don’t know what he thinks he’s talking about. He’s twice my goddamn size.
“Yeah, huh? What about the time when…”
“Barry, shut up. You’re ruining it. I had good news.” I turn my head away from him. He quiets down.
“I called the bank for my balance,” I say, trying to sound casual.
“And?”
I start humming and smiling. This is the most money I have ever managed to save in one time. And considering the percentage of my earnings that’s been going up my nose these days, it’s a lot.
“Ten grand?”
I scoff, and point to the ceiling.
“What? Fifteen?”
“I have twenty grand, baby!” I crow. I start jumping up and down on the bed, watching Barry’s body jolt all over the mattress.
“That’s fantastic,” he says. “You’re one fifth of the way towards an education.”
My face darkens.
“Music school ain’t cheap, baby.”
“Don’t do that, Barry.”
He looks away. I decide not to pursue the argument. I don’t think either of us wants to fight today.
“I need new clothes,” I decide out loud. “I haven’t bought anything but strip club costumes in two years.”
“We could go to Macy’s,” Barry suggests. “I know about clothes. I can show you what you ought to be wearing.”
I stare at him incredulously, and he stares back, a cigarette dangling from his lips. His hair is uncombed and sticks out every which way along the top of his head. He’s wearing a shapeless black t-shirt, a faded pair of jeans, and a rancid pair of socks that used to be white and have turned a dark gray. It’s the same outfit he’s had on for the last three weeks. The entire ensemble is filthy, though the socks are probably the biggest offender.
“You’re hilarious,” I tell him.
“Uh, excuse me. Miss Thing. You didn’t know me when I had money. I used to wear thousand dollar suits.”
“Yeah, I know. And you ate five hundred dollar dinners,” I recite. Barry’s told me a bunch of stories about his gangland past. He’s very creative, and the stories are fantastic. I’m convinced that ninety-nine percent of them are total bullshit. Many times, I’ve wondered if even he believes the things that come out of his mouth.
“Fine. You don’t believe me. You want some company anyway?”
“You know what? Fuck it. Let’s do it,” I consent, and bounce out of bed.
Money’s no longer a problem. It’s time for me to start living my life.
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