We sit at a round table with curved benches on both sides. Clarity gets her daughter and talks to her, and I see Clarity begin to relax. This in turn causes me to relax, and I’m vaguely thinking of crystal meth and the Nissan SUV when Clarity hangs up her phone. It has this ridiculous white case encrusted with plastic diamonds and Clarity’s initials in a cursive script.
We look at each other.
I look away.
I look back at Clarity and she’s still looking at me, or staring through me is more like it. She says:
“I just imagine some fat Mexican leaving behind her fetus on the bathroom floor like instead of having a baby she just took a shit.”
“What’s up with the Mexican thing? For real. Why can’t it be a fat black girl?”
“Or a fat white girl—you know we’re sluts.”
“But what about the fat thing? Is it only fat—ethnic—girls who leave their babies in Burger King bathrooms?”
“No. No. They have to be fat. Otherwise they would know they were pregnant!”
“Oh right. Of course. Is Asha ok?”
“She’s fine. She’s fine. When I saw that fetus blood back in that bathroom—I mean that period blood—it made me think of abandoned fetuses and I got worried.”
“I know.”
“What do you mean, ‘You know?’ Am I that fucking transparent?”
“No, you’re not transparent. It was just obvious that’s what was happening.”
“Well it wasn’t obvious to me. I didn’t make that connection till right now. I’m not clairvoyant or..I know that’s not the word. What is the word for..?”
“I don’t know. But I know what you mean.”
“Ok, well I cant self-psychologize myself on the fly.”
“Ok. It’s ok. I’m glad Asha’s ok.”
“She really liked you, you know.”
“Yeah, for the five minutes I met her in Phoenix, I thought she was one of the coolest people I ever met,” I say.
My mind was off on how I might end up being Asha’s step dad in the next couple of weeks. I already had Clarity and I getting married at 10:17am on Saturday morning when we’d really only known each other for a few hours.
“Well I hate to do this,” Clarity says.
“What.”
“We’re gonna have to break out the big guns.”
She opens the pack of Parliaments. Hands me one. We each light our own with her lighter.
“Purity says you make like more money than god.”
“I make..middle-class money. I’m not rich or anything..you see where we live. I don’t even make enough money to buy a car. But I get a pretty big paycheck. Why are we talking about this?”
“Why the fuck not? All my friends are poor. Purity is poor. You’re driving around in this Nissan SUV—”
I laugh.
“No,” Clarity says. “I’m not making fun of it. That’s a sweet ride. I didn’t know Nissan made SUVs but I’d be proud as hell if I was driving that around. It would look good on me in Phoenix. You should see my car.”
“Why. What’s wrong with it. It goes, doesn’t it?”
“It goes, but it’s a busted-ass piece of shit.”
“What color is it?”
“White.”
“Ah.”
“Ah what?”
“Nothing.”
“Tell me what the fuck you meant, motherfucker, or I’ll burn your hand with this cigarette.”
“Just..white girls..in white cars..it’s like a sex thing.”
“What the fuck does that mean, It’s like a sex thing?”
“It’s like red lipstick to emphasize the shape of the vulva. White..purity..it’s a sex thing.”
“It’s a sex thing? How is it a sex thing?”
“You’re driving fast on the highway, you come around some guy in a Mustang, he sees you, you’re driving a white car..it’s a sex thing. If you’re a young girl driving a white car it’s like a tight dress..it flaunts your sexuality—”
“Is this just your personal theory, or—”
“No. Everyone knows this.”
“I’m gonna ask around, and if I discover that this is just your personal pet theory I’m gonna burn your hand with this cigarette.”
“I guess I’m lucky then.”
“Why is that?”
“ ‘Cause you’re gonna have to conduct your research before that cigarette burns out.”
“I’ll burn you with a cigarette, you literal-ass motherfucker. Fuck, Purity should have warned me how annoying you are.”
“Does she think I’m annoying?”
“No. She fucking loves you. ‘We took in this homeless guy who had valley fever and he’s so funny and sweet and he and I watch Biggest Loser together and he drinks wine so me and him drink wine while Ashley cooks chicken on the George Foreman grill.’ “
“She liked watching Biggest Loser with me?”
“Fucking loved it. Never fails to mention that you’re both in your pajamas and how you’re so polite and you sit way on your end of the couch and you never make a move on her even though she’s sitting there with her legs crossed and her precious little untouched cunt ready and fucking waiting for someone to do the job.”
I’m staring at Purity’s sister.
“What?”
“Ever since I heard she was a virgin I wanted to fuck her.”
“Well, there’s still time on that clock,” Clarity says.
“Really?”
“Yeah, I don’t know what she’s saving it for, the fucking end of the world or what. Go for it. She’s not particular. No offense but if you get her drunk you’re in.”
“Ok all bullshit aside why is she still a virgin?”
“All bullshit aside..some family shit that goes way back that really isn’t my place to tell you but Purity is a complex person, you know—that innocent-girl image she puts on around people, that’s fake. That big-ass smile? That’s fake. Purity is disillusioned—you know—with the world. Like she’s not having fun in this life. That Wonder Woman personality is just her defense mechanism around the fact that she finds this life pointless, doesn’t know how to connect—”
“Yeah, Purity and I have the same Myers-Briggs personality type. So I know about that pointlessness. And about..having to create your own meaning because when you look in the world you don’t find any.”
“Yeah, I see that in you.”
“Yeah.”
“Yeah, so whether you fuck my sister or not, you be a good friend to that girl, ‘cause she shielded me from shit when we were young, and she deserves a good friend.”
“I will,” I say.
“You will what?”
“If she gets the Wonder Woman job and moves out to LA, I’ll be a good friend to your sister.”
“Good because I don’t trust LA.”
By which I’m sure she meant she didn’t trust LA to be a good fit for her sister—which of course it wouldn’t be—but I didn’t say anything. I just sat across this round table from Clarity and smoked my way through that Parliament. I hadn’t trusted Clarity and I to be a good fit as Six Flags support team for Purity, either—but as usual I was wrong.