We were happy then.
So she would know how the hair drapes across my face, obscuring half of it.
I remember the night before she ran away with Teddy. This was the same night I tried to make love to Tanya at the dinner table.
All of us talked about what was happening, what life was like then, how everything had changed, how so many of us were dying.
We wanted to figure out what exactly was happening and why.
None of us could come up with a workable theory.
A Regular Day for Real People
I TOLD MY FRIEND I was about to sleep with his sister. I told him to sit tight.
Outside, the world was in motion and I watched it from a fourth-story window. From there I could see almost everything. From there I could see the earth and the structures built upon it. I could see people and animals and how everyone conducted themselves in broad daylight.
From there I could hasten my demise should I finally choose to do so.
My friend and his sister wouldn’t want that, though, to say nothing of the world at large.
I keep this in mind because all of us are on the verge of something, a new way of life maybe.
I had been there for most of the last year, at the window, watching the world in motion, considering this new way of life, considering the nuances of defenestration.
I developed a keen appreciation for weather.
Sometimes it rained.
When it rained, it rained from top to bottom and from side to side. If you squinted and tilted your head, the opposite was true.
The wind played a part in this, certainly, if there was a wind.
Otherwise, there were days that were cloudy and uncloudy.
I sat on the precipice.
Poised.
I had recently spoken with my friend. I called early in the morning and woke him. I told him I was about to sleep with his sister. I told him to sit tight.
He said, What, who?
I said, I have no time for games, and hung up on him. Afterward I went straight back to the window and looked out of it.
This is funny because tennis plays a critical element in this whole affair and tennis is a game made up of games.
I could see many buildings and even more windows into those buildings.
In other words, I was at one window, mine own, looking into others I knew not of.
Should I consider this too closely, I’d lose my way and drag everyone down with me.
Such is the nature of windows.
I do think it important to note that I was trying to observe my neighbors in their natural habitats. I wanted to see how they live, what they do. I thought it would be at the least educational and maybe even more than that.
I thought maybe I could learn something about myself.
My friend worked a job, commingled with others, participated in society. I don’t know how he, or anyone, for that matter, can do such things.
I’d known him since childhood. He was a fine boy. Spoke in complete sentences, had perfect table manners and the rest.
I never thought either of us would live long enough that we’d work jobs and participate in society.
I remember a conversation we had once while playing tennis. I was ten times better than him, but he liked playing anyway. Secretly he resented me for being ten times better than him, but I tried not to hold this against him.
I think I told him during a changeover that I couldn’t see either of us reaching middle age. He said, You’re probably right, said we’d be lucky to see a third set.
There was no reason for this fatalism, if this was fatalism.
It was, more than anything else, a lack of imagination.
I think this is why I try to look into windows. I can’t imagine what might be going on in there.
I don’t remember much of his sister, as I think they kept her hidden from the likes of me.
The people outside the window were unscrupulous. There was no sense of right and wrong and this was indicated in how they moved about the world in motion, as if they were balanced, as if they had a clear destination in mind.
Otherwise, the people outside were inscrutable. I’m not sure I know the difference between unscrupulous and inscrutable.
Some of these had dogs. They led the dogs around on leashes, if you can picture that.
My friend’s sister was in the bedroom, waiting for me.
I’m not sure if she had a dog. I haven’t seen her with a dog, but she is the type to have one.
I have trouble keeping time, which is why I don’t know when all of this happened. From the window you can’t tell time, as there are no clocks within eyeshot and I’m not clever enough to make my own calendar. I don’t know how long I’ve been here, at my window, but at some point, I began playing tennis under the everywhere sky.
Surely I’ve done other things since coming to my window, but I can’t remember what. I must’ve eaten and slept and performed tasks and maintained personal hygiene, attended to function and need — in other words, the tedious litany of daily disturbance.
But other than my window, what I specifically remember is being out there on the tennis court.
There were other people playing at the same time, but they were none of mine. They were inscrutable or unscrupulous.
I was out on the court with my friend’s sister, the one whose brother I had hung up on earlier, the one I was about to sleep with, whose backhand slice was devastating, whose first serve was unimaginable.
Anyone watching was thusly dazzled.
I am a sight to see out there on the court, a man of my size, moving like that, covering the entire playing surface, sideline to sideline, net to baseline.
I’ve always been tremendous, standing up at 6′ 8″ and weighing down at 280.
Should I finally throw myself out the window, imagine the sight of it, let alone the sound.
The stakes were agreed upon beforehand. Should she win, I was to leave her alone forever, never to darken her doorstep, write, call, or otherwise contact her while everyone was still alive and upright.
Should I win, she’d have to sleep with me.
I think I had a strange look on my face when I first proposed this because she had a strange look on her face after I said it.
Still, she agreed.
She probably had no choice as I was threatening the life of her brother at the time.
I told her I had him confined at an undisclosed location. At first she didn’t believe me. She thought I was bluffing.
I have your brother, I said.
She said, What do you mean you have him?
I have your brother, I said, that’s exactly what I mean.
Where do you have him?
I have him confined at an undisclosed location.
I don’t believe you, she said. You’re bluffing, she said.
This is when I showed her a Polaroid of her brother tied up and gagged at the undisclosed location. I propped up a copy of that day’s newspaper on his chest to prove this was actually happening and I meant business.
I saw someone do this in a movie once.
In the movie they didn’t leave a telephone for the hostage to answer. This is how what I’ve done is better than the movie.
I’m not exactly sure how it’s better but I know that it is.
I told my friend not to get any big ideas about calling the cops. I told him if he called the cops I’d have to do unspeakable things to his sister.
This is how they talk in the movies, so I figured I should do likewise.
He knew I meant business. Still, he said I should reconsider. I told him I thought this all the way through, that I knew what I was doing.
The sister said again, I can’t believe this.
I said, What can’t you believe?
She said, This, what it is you’re doing.
I said, It’s a regular day for real people. Nothing more.