“There’s a pond back here.”
We all step out into the sunlight, into the Mead Research courtyard. You have to build a pond for every so-many acres of land you clear for office buildings, so there’s a pond back there, with geese. Presumably before MR built these buildings those geese were living happily on this land and they had natural ponds and trees to splash and shit in, but if you ask me the geese are getting a really good deal. They have a nice big pond now, that has a water filtering system, and groundskeepers clean up their shit every day. There are a million little terraces and benches and concrete shelves that border our buildings..little fountains..big fountains..and these super-aggressive geese that know exactly what a bag of Dorito crumbs looks like. They’re highly intelligent. I saw one open a package of Sweet’N Low once. If he had opened one of those mini handi-wipes I would have shit myself.
“So you come here every day?”
“Yep.”
“So you have a good job.”
“Yep.” That’s how we arrange things, in my country. You either have a shit job, where you make enough so that if you have two or three of those jobs you can barely scrape by..or you have a good job, and you make eight to twenty times what one shit job pays.
“You and Ashley work together?”
“We’re in the same group.”
“Is that how you met?”
“Yep.”
We go over this hill—this is out past the parking lot.
“Watch out for geese shit.”
“Why do you have all these geese? Are they part of the company?”
“They just like this pond.”
“Right..cause..I didn’t even know Ohio had geese.”
“Wha’d you guys do yesterday? You can smoke here if you want.”
“Let’s go over to that bench,” MJ says. So we do.
The three of them, and me, sitting on this Mead bench, way away from the buildings, where nobody except single people ever go. Some little Vietnamese girl, halfway around the world, eating lunch by herself, just because she happens to be the best person in the world at something. And because this is the only place on the planet where anyone needs that particular something done. I mean sure you get to send money back to your family, but Jesus, what a way to live.
I smoke the joint with them. I’m not going back inside. After this I’m going straight to my car, I’m going to go lounge around the mall until restaurants open, then I’m getting a jump on Gao at T.G.I. Friday’s.
“What are you guys doing—“ I smoke “—after this?”
“We have class.”
“What kind of class?”
“Improv. Level 2.”
“Are you all in it together?” I pass the cigarette.
“Yes.”
“Is Jules in it with you?” I smile.
“Do you like Jules?” This is Brooklyn who says it, and she has her hand on my knee, and somehow it makes me sick.
“Jules usually doesn’t deign to hang with students,” MJ says.
And Zombie says: “Jules doesn’t take improv.”
“She teaches our Level 2 class.”
“Do you want us to tell her anything when we see her?”
“If you’re gonna see her today I want to come with you.”
“Do you want us to tell you whether or not she likes you?”
“She told you not to tell!”
“Well,” I say, “That answers that one.”
“How does it answer it?”
MJ passes to Zombie. “Just smoke this.”
“Why? How does it answer it?”
“Do you want us to tell her anything?”
I let Zombie smoke, then I smoke, then I pass to Brooklyn, then I say: “Why did you take your teacher to a party?”
“She’s from our theatre.”
“She acts at Black Box.”
“She’s a real actor.”
MJ nods at me. “She gets paid and everything.”
“Well is she in a show?”
MJ nods. “This Friday. There’s a preview on Thursday, if you want to come.”
“He can’t come to the preview.”
“Sure he can. We can invite anyone we want.”
“Are you all in it?”
“I am,” Brooklyn says. “I’m Angel Number Six.”
“No you’re not,” MJ says.
And Zombie says: “You’re Angel Number Eight, bitch.”
“She’s an extra.”
“I’m not an extra! I’m background. There’s a difference.”
“Anyway, can you come?”
“What time is it?”
“Eight.”
“Yeah I can come. Thanks.”
“Good.” MJ hands me the joint. She stands up and I can see the sun coming through her dress, between her legs. She yawns. Her hair is everywhere, red, curly strands against a blue sky. “Get Ashley to come.”
“Did you invite her?”
“We always do,” MJ says, “But she never comes.”
“Why not?”
“Because,” MJ says, “She always wants to stay home. With you.”