During the cold Ohio winter, two people finished having sex. The boy’s name was Jack and the girl’s was Angela. They lay naked under the sheets of a single bed. The room was small. Earlier in the week, Angela had experienced a panic attack, and clothes and other shit remained scattered throughout the room. Jack was in his early twenties. Angela was nineteen. They were both attractive in an unexceptional way. They talked while smoking cigarettes.
“So we did it,” Jack said.
“We needed it,” Angela said.
“I didn’t. Not tonight.”
“Men always want it, whether they know it or not.”
“Not me. I’m looking for love,” Jack said.
“You don’t want love. You can’t handle being around anybody for more than a couple days. You get tired of people. The second you find love, you’ll move on.”
“You’re no better,” Jack said.
“The last boy I dated, I dumped him when he said he loved me. Just right there, on the spot, I broke it off. I don’t need that shit. I’m young.”
“But it gets lonely at night.”
“You would think if you felt lonely, you would just go to sleep and forget about it. No, you stay up and dwell and dwell and dwell. I don’t get to sleep until ten in the morning sometimes, the way it eats at me.”
“That’s what winter does. It eats at you. So we dwell in loneliness.”
“I’m tired of dwelling.”
“I’m on medication and it’s not helping. I still dwell.”
“Life wouldn’t be so bad if you didn’t have to be somebody.”
“I wake up at five in the afternoon, go to Denny’s, and just sit there until I feel tired enough to sleep.”
“I get up every morning and get stoned, or take pills or something. Anything to make me forget.”
“There is too much to forget.”
The night collapsed down on them and they held each other close, as if afraid of something in the dark.
“I forget sometimes,” Angela said. “Then it returns and I’m trapped.”
“I was once a strong person. I went to college. I had a good job. I saw both oceans. To think now of all the time I wasted with Cindy. My god.”
“Did you love her?”
“I think I loved her. Anyway, it’s over now.”
“Let’s talk about something fun.”
“When I was little, my dad used to take me to the batting cages. I always enjoy that memory.”
“I don’t have good memories like that. I never knew my father and my mom never did anything but bitch me out. My good memories came later, and it seems like every time I was happy, I was on drugs.”
“I used to do drugs.”
“How come you don’t anymore?”
“They make me feel guilty. Guilty and like the world’s a desolate place.”
“I could spend the rest of my life high.”
“I don’t know how I want to spend the rest of my life, but I know I don’t want to spend it high. Maybe everything I do is a mistake. Maybe I’ll always be lonely. But drugs just make the loneliness worse. I don’t want to make any more mistakes.”
“I thought we were going to stop talking about sad shit.”
“When I look back on this winter, I know that I’ll laugh at myself. Right now, though, sad shit is all I feel.”
“But then one day you’ll snap out of it.”
“One day I’ll snap out of it.”
“Doesn’t the medication help at all?”
“I don’t know. During the day, all I can really do is eat. Anything more is too much trouble. Is that helping?”
“All I can do is eat and get stoned.”
“That’s more than I can do.”
Jack and Angela embraced. They kissed each other on the lips. Then she lit another cigarette and he got out of bed and went into the bathroom.
As he pissed, he wondered why he fucked her. He never had the urge to fuck her before.
Why tonight.
Is this love.
He flushed the toilet and returned to the small bed and climbed under the covers.
“You know what I did today?” Angela said.
“Woke up and got stoned.”
“I watched PBS for five hours.”
“Why did you watch PBS?”
“It’s the only channel I get. I can no longer function without PBS. I can no longer function in the real world.”
“Neither can I.”
“I would like to be a real person and do real person things.”
“The real world isn’t worth it.”
“But before I die, I want to see the world get at least a little better,” Angela said.
“The world isn’t going to get better. It’ll be a shithole till the end.”
“There’s no truth anywhere.”
Jack got out of bed and sat on the floor cross-legged. Angela pulled the covers up to conceal her breasts. They remained silent for a minute.
“I like having sex with you,” Angela said.
“Thanks. You’re not so bad yourself.”
There was another silence. The small room was becoming intolerable to Jack.
“I saw my mother today,” Angela said.
“Did you fight with her?”
“We don’t fight anymore. She still tries to control me, but we don’t fight anymore. She knows I’ll start breaking shit if she yells at me. She’s moving away, too. She’s moving to a sunny place and I’m going to die here in poverty, alone. It’s fucked up.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Why can’t you be like a normal boy and tell me everything is going to be okay?”
“I don’t really know you all that well. I don’t know if it will be okay.”
“You’re right. You don’t know me.”
Jack took a cigarette from the pack on the floor. He put the cigarette in his mouth but didn’t light it. Angela stared at him. She let the covers fall, exposing her breasts, and she stared.
“Are you going to light that?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” he said, tight-lipped so the cigarette did not fall from his mouth.
“What if I said I loved you?”
Jack found a lighter and lit the cigarette, slow and deliberate, as if to postpone answering the question for as long as possible. Finally, he said, “You still have a chance to stop.”
“What the fuck am I supposed to do?”
“Do something for yourself.”
“No one does anything for themselves. People do it for their parents, to make other people think they’re great, to get laid or make money, but they don’t do anything for themselves. I don’t have anyone to impress and there’s nothing I want. I don’t care about making anyone happy. I don’t care if I’m happy. People can go fuck themselves. And that includes you and me.”
“That’s a good attitude. You’ll get real far in life acting like a total bitch,” Jack said. He stood and walked around the room, gathering his clothes.
Angela looked at him as if she wanted to say something, but she said nothing.
Jack zipped up his jeans and buttoned his shirt. He had worn his socks during sex, so he did not have to put them on now. He slipped on his shoes.
Angela was still looking like she wanted to say something.
Jack considered saying goodbye. He thought better of it.
Why tonight.
Is this love.
He walked out of the room and left through the front door, ducking out into the cold night to his car in the driveway, where he sat. He felt the same as he did before he fucked her, only somehow crueler.
Back in the house, Angela lay in bed. She screamed and howled out to the night, but there was no one there to listen.
Little Flowers
1
My dad brought me to the train station.
It’s a rainy night.