Progression

Ok, so I don't have the balls to talk to her. But still, you gotta admit she’s gorgeous. She always eats cheezeburgers and fries and crap and she still has perfect skin. And that kind of perfect you can't fake, know what I mean? Cheezeburgers and fries. Serious. And people notice these things. Like I notice. Beautiful girl eats stuff that's crap, and she's still everything she ever was. Even when we were together, she ate mickey D's all the time. She always loved the royale wit cheeze. She went to France, ordered a royale wit cheeze in the mickey D's on the, whaddayacallit, Champs Elysees. And then she called me to tell me about it. Just like in the states, she said, just like at home. She missed me, she said, and boy she was talkin out of her ass that time cuz I heard later what she did with her host boy. Plain nasty. She shouldn't do crap like that, pretty girl like her can do whatever she wants, but that's nasty. I don't like thinkin about it now any more than I did then. Man oh man, nasty. And to think she told me she was staying with a girl. Just so I wouldn’t be too jealous. She thought I would be jealous. I only want her to be happy.

Then, after she came back, she broke up with me. I still can't believe that. She said I didn’t love her and all this crap, that I was using her. A trophy love, or some shit like that. I was using her! She was the one running around, Debbie Does Dallas type. She probably did Dallas. She could. They like blondes in Dallas, right? Real blondes, I mean, not the bottle, her hair is spun gold if anyone's is. A regular Rapunzel, gorgeous whore just like in the story. Sweet honey gold hair, soft as anything. I miss that hair. I used to run my fingers through it, it was so soft and nice and long and gorgeous and it was so fucking her. Now everyone and his mother run their dirty fingers through her hair. She's gonna catch something if she keeps going like she is, she's smart, she knows. But no common sense at all. She never wanted to use protection. Been lucky so far, sure, but you never know, with what they say and all. Somebody oughta be watching out for her. Like me. I used ta watch out for her, back then, and she used to like it and thank me for it. 'Borrow my jacket,' I'd say, cuz she'd catch cold. And then she wouldn’t get sick. I always used a rubber, she never wanted me to, just kept going if I didn't stop. I was using her. What ever.

I could watch out for her again. Not offer her my jacket, I was cold all the time that winter, but you know, make sure she isn't walking home alone or nothin. It's a dangerous city, everyone knows that, people getting mugged every day, beaten, raped, killed, everything. Wouldn't want my sweet Jillian getting beaten or raped. Ex-my, true, but sweet Jillian, still. Always sweet Jillian. Cuz she is, ya know? Always sweet, and nice, and smart, she's so smart. Know what she got on her SAT? Fifteen thirty. Shit you not, fifteen thirty. Who else in the crapboxes they call schools here could get that? Nobody. She's gonna be valedictorian, too, go off to college with some kind of very large scholarship. College in Virginia, William something. And then I won't see her, cuz I'm going to the community, cuz I can't get a scholarship. Not with my record, ya know? I mean at least I’m graduating, finally. And I'm getting a place, of my own, next Thursday I sign the lease with the landlord. Sweet Jillian, though, she's going to have a roommate to deal with, some dumb hick from the sticks. You wouldn’t catch me living with some dumb hick from the boondocks. Virginia, what else is there? The sticks. You drive through Virginia to get to other places. Mexico maybe. You could drive to Mexico, make a stop at William Whatever College.

If she stayed here, though, it might be nice. I could take a class or two with her, maybe we could have study sessions. She’s majoring in econ I think, I could do that. Eco-nomics. Like ecology, but nomics. You'd think they’d have more to do with each other, same names like that. Word roots or whatever. Ecology I get, we did that in bio, first time through the ninth grade. Economics, I wouldn't know what it meant if she wasn't all for it. Has to do with prices, consumers, companies and shit. Theoretical, she calls it. I've heard her talking with people, the other smarties in school and professors, about Theoreticals. I looked it up in the dictionary, has something to do with being smart, and thinking, and Einstein. I was just walking by, I wasn't listening in or nothing, I walked by and I happened to hear her talking a coupla times. Just in passing. Like the reason I'm goin to mickey D's right now is that I'm hungry, not cuz she might be there.

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See her? There, the one in the pearl gray sweater, that looks like crushed pearls. Cashmere, it's made of. Real cashmere. Expensive, classy, et cetera. That's why she looks so good in it, cuz it's expensive and classy just like her. She was real expensive, always wanting things, always wanting to go to a show or to eat or somewhere. She never even paid her own subway fare. Probably conned that girl she’s sitting with out of the four ninety nine for the extra value meal. And the girl doesn't even care, doesn't even notice, what's a little extortion between friends? I shouldn't look at her, she'll notice me. I don't want her to know I'm here. She doesn't like being around me. She always acts all nervous. Like I would ever hurt her. Even though she fucking dumped me, I would never hurt her. In a million years. I would never.

I don’t know why she always acts nervous around me, though. She knows I wouldn't hurt her. Like in math, I sit behind her. Every day she moves her desk forward, an inch or two, and the desk in front of hers. Like I would stab her in the back or something. She knows better. She always did know I would never hurt her, how else could she treat me like she did? I would never. But I wish she would talk to me, look at me, something. Recognize that I still exist, cuz I damn well do. She better recognize and act like she knows, cuz she does. She knows. I don't know why she won't look at me. She probably hates me. I don't know why. I probably remind her of how awful she treated me. She should remember how she treated me, she shouldn't do that. Treat people like animals, stupid, she didn't think I knew what was going on? Maybe I should talk to her about that. That she shouldn't treat people like they're stupid.

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I still have her phone number memorized: 878-5219. I should write it on stalls. For a good time call Jillian, she can really shake 'em down. What will I say when she answers? Too late. What should I say? What should I say? What will she say when I say it? "Hello, Benson residence." She has such a sweet, nice voice. What should I say? "Hello?" Should I say hello? or hi? or remember me? "Hello?" That's it, short, to the point, ‘remember me.’ click. She hung up. She hung up on me. I'll call again, this time I'll say 'remember me?' and she'll say 'how could I forget.' Eight seven eight five two one nine. "Hello?" Now I'm nervous. I can’t say that. Remember me is cheezy, stupid, of course she'll remember me. "Hello?" click. It's so nice to hear her voice, though, even if it makes me too nervous to talk and she keeps hanging up. But I don't want her to be scared of me. She shouldn't be scared of me. I'm not scary. I only want to hear her sweet voice, my sweet Jillian's voice. Eight seven eight five two one nine. Eight seven eight five two one nine. I just want to hear your voice, sweet Jillian. Talk! "Hello?" Such a sweet voice, so pure, clear. Like she's not from around here or something, but she so is. She doesn’t like it, sure, none of us do, but she’s too much of a whore to be from anywhere else. "Look asshole, knock it off." She has such a beautiful voice.

She's so beautiful. So sweet, and soft, and pretty, and smart, everything. See, if she had someone to watch her, make her behave nice and not run around with everybody, like she does, she'd be perfect. She wouldn't be in danger from anyone if I watched her. If I helped her make some decisions. Like she'd stay here, with me, instead of going to Virginia. And I'd make her use protection, no, wait, I'd make her stay with me so that she'd be safe. I'd have her eat things that are good, healthy, whole wheat bread, broccoli, milk. Does a body good. I'd make her wear a coat when we went out so she wouldn't catch cold. Then she wouldn't get sick, she would always be healthy and happy and she would still be her beautiful, flawless self. And she would stay that way, because I wouldn’t let anybody change her. She would get all the best, cashmere and royales wit cheeze, with large fry and cherry coke, how she likes them. I could make them for her, I could get the recipe from Ben. He works in mickey D’s and he can get it. We would do classy things again, her and me, go to shows and museums and the exhibits in the public library. Like we used to. Only more. We’d hold hands. In my coat pocket, if it was cold, and I could take her to coffee shops and things, cuz she likes coffee. She always used to complain about being addicted to coffee and it had stunted her growth, but she is the perfect height anyway. Whether or not coffee had anything to do with it. Up to my chin, just comfortably tall. If I was watching her, though, she wouldn’t wear high heels, because they are bad for your arches. My mother always used to make sure my shoes had good arch support. Very important, she’d say, keep your feet in good shape, cuz if you don’t, they’ll hurt when you’re older.

If she was with me, if I was watching her, she’d be so happy. So would I, but that’s irrelevant, she is the important person, not me, not ugly nobody me. She’d have everything she wanted. She would enjoy it so much. I’ll surprise her. She’ll love it. She won’t expect anything, and then suddenly I will appear, with roses, and she’ll realize how happy she was when she was with me and she will come back to my apartment, because I’m signing with the landlord on Thursday, and it will be nice and smell good for her and there will be flowers and jazz music and incense, and its all freshly painted clean and white like the super showed me, and my comfy couch will be there and I’ll decorate it. Or I won’t decorate it and I’ll be postmodern or some minimalist shit. Or something. I’ll surprise her. It’ll be great, she’ll be happy. I feel so much better when I am near her. Everything. I feel smarter, more confident, happier, so much happier. If only she would stay near me, if I could get her to it would be so good.

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So this is my apartment now. I gave him the check, it shouldn’t bounce cuz I just got paid on Tuesday, and I haven’t taken much out. I should decorate. I can paint it if I want, he said, I need paint. He said I could paint it, any color I wanted, so I should. A light color, I think, she likes light colors, but white is so hospital, so immaculate, and she is not immaculate. She always wears light colors, though, like the gray sweater. Maybe I could paint it all gray, she looks so wonderful in pearl-colored things. Light gray.

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I surprised her. She didn’t want to come at first, she didn’t believe me, but I showed her the flowers and I convinced her to come. She’s here now. She’s in the bathroom, she’s been there since she got here. The door is locked. She can’t get out though, I’m on the fourth floor, and she can’t jump. She certainly can’t jump. I don’t know why she didn’t want to come. I had roses for her, I got them from the florist just for her, and I told her so and she started walking away but I caught her arm and then she listened to me like she should. Maybe I should open the bathroom door and see what she is doing. What are you doing in there? Are you alive? There isn’t a phone, there isn’t even much in any of the cabinets, just my toothbrush and toothpaste and soap. Not even any Q-tips. "Let me out!" I’m not keeping you in, sweet Jillian, because you want to be here. You know you want to be here, becausd you will be happy now. I’m going to mickey D’s. I’ll bring you back a royale with cheese, just the way you like it, with large fries and cherry coke. I remember. I remember how you treated me like I was stupid, just because I don’t put in the time on homework or classes. I know plenty, honey bunches, plenty, and I know that what goes around comes the fuck around. I’ll be back in twenty minutes with your burger. I will have to go to school tomorrow, though, because I didn’t go today and I really want to graduate this year. I haven’t been since sweet Jillian arrived on Friday.

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Sweet Jillian, why are you banging on the door? You’ll get used to being here. If you stop banging on the door I’ll give you your burger. You want your royale with cheese, don’t you? I know you can smell it and I know you haven’t eaten in two days. There’s no food in my bathroom. You should eat, though. Stop banging on the door so that you can eat. Sweet Jillian, you must eat, stop shouting. Your voice is hoarse, raspy, you are shouting too much and it will ruin your voice.

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Now you won’t shout. They do say duct tape does wonders but I never quite believed it until now. And now when you do talk again your voice won’t sound like that, raspy, it’ll sound sweet again. I’m glad you could come out of the bathroom, even if you do still like going back to eat. But you are so quiet sitting in that chair, sweet Jillian, and your eyes have big dark rings around them and I am beginning to wonder about your health. Are you getting enough sleep? Are you eating properly? I will have to make sure. You have had your royale with cheese today, you are not hungry. I think you should sleep on my bed, my bed is a lot more comfortable than the bathtub. Softer. So that you won’t bruise when you thrash around, like you do in the bathtub. There is still a wall next to the bed, but that can’t be helped. Here, let me help you to my bed.

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See, sweet Jillian? It is much nicer in my bed than the bathtub. Are you comfortable? Don’t answer, it’ll hurt your mouth to move it with the duct tape still over. Now that you are comfortable, let me remind you of something. Remember how much fun we had when we were together, all the things we did? You were the one who never had time for me, who based it entirely on sex. Let’s do that again, shall we? I know you enjoy it because you do it so often, everyone knows how much you enjoy it. All my friends, all your friends, most of the graduating class, that French kid, everyone knows how much you enjoy it. Well? Sweet Jillian? Well?

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Isn’t my bed more comfortable than the bathroom, sweet Jillian? I’m sorry I had to go to school today. They are starting to be rather concerned about your whereabouts. Me, they’re never concerned about, they’re used to my not being there. And my dad never worries, he was hardly ever home, even when I lived there. So, if you really want me to, I could just stay here with you as long as you like. I don’t have to go to class, I’ve gone weeks without setting foot inside the crapbox school, it’s not a big deal. What would you like to do, sweet Jillian? Sleep on my bed again? Look at you. Your eyes, your face, you used to be beautiful. Why aren’t you beautiful now? I don’t think you have been sleeping enough. Maybe you should have a nice, long rest. I’ll even help you fall asleep. Sleep is good for you, you need sleep.

Don’t look at me like that, sweet Jillian. Staring blankly is not your best feature. And you always used to smell so good, with the expensive, classy perfume you always used to wear, but now you don’t, any more.

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