I had been in bed for a couple of days and by this I mean sleeping for fifteen or sixteen hours at a time. I don't think that I believed in God anymore. I no longer knew how to stay awake.
That's when Adam came in and said, “Get up, we're going to the mall,” and I rolled over. He shook a little bottle, cha cha cha, and said, “I'll give you some if you just get up,” so I did.
We drove to Pentagon City and outside of Macy's he placed a little blue pill in my hand and I swallowed it without water. He rubbed my butt and we slid over the marble floors and into these stores where all the clothes hung on wooden hangers.
The problem was that I had thrown away most of my clothes by that point. Adam had gone through them and dressed up in a tight skirt and shiny red tube top. He flounced into the living room and spun, then collapsed on the couch with his hands over his face. I knew I was supposed to laugh, so I did. We put everything in white plastic trash bags and then shoved it down the garbage chute in the hallway. It was a very nice apartment building he lived in, with a trash chute. I liked watching the white bags slide away.
I didn't have any clothes is what I'm trying to say, and at Pentagon City Adam sat in the dressing room while I got undressed down to my bra and panties, things that he'd also purchased for me, and he whispered, “Man, I want to fuck you right here,” and I thought that we might but I was too shy so he just ran his hands over my thighs. “I could fuck you right here,” he said. “Have you ever thought about that?”
He approved the clothes, expensive clothes I couldn't have afforded otherwise, and at the counter he insisted that we get to take the hangers home, and the sales lady agreed. My eyes were spinning in my head like high-quality drill bits. I thought that I could bore into things. I thought that I was humming in a straight line, that I was making a hole clean through to the center of things. It wasn't like that at all.
We went everywhere, to the lingerie shops where I got more bras and panties, and to the boutiques and to the department stores. We went in and out, in and out, touching hangers and making them click together, our shoes clicking, too, on the rows of tiles. Soft music played around us.
In the department store this guy in a tuxedo played a grand piano that was up on a little stage.
“I could have done that,” I said mournfully. “I could have played the piano for a living.” Why had I not thought to really practice, to try harder and practice more so that one day I could play the piano in a department store for money?
“Dreams,” Adam said, tugging on my arm. I had so many bags in my hands, each one of them full. The guy in the tuxedo had a family, probably, kids. Adam wanted an Orange Julius and to check the movie times and we walked straight to the escalators, and rode down and off and walked and were too late for each and every movie. I was very focused on something, but I didn't know what. I wanted to dust or file documents. We kept riding the escalators.
i don't think it needs anything. in other words: killer piece!
I like this a lot. Can't see a word I'd change.
Rachel, this is fantastic. I agree with Dave and Scott about the piece itself. I would ditch "mournfully"...the sentence is funnier/sadder without it. If this is your idea of an unfinished story I can see why you just got into the Kenyon Review.
Love this. It's dreamlike and vivid at the same time. And the piece as a whole is an amazing metaphor.
I love this, too.
It's great.
Wow! So crisp in detail, hinting at such sadness.
Hey friends! Thanks so much. David, I thought I could maybe, finally, get away with an adverb, but you've confirmed that I cannot, in fact. Thanks for the tip.
Katrina, first of all, you have great hair. Secondly, can you write to me a little bit more about how you see this piece being a metaphor for...something? I'm intrigued.
And thanks Scott, Dave, Jon, Mary Miller. Thanks, thanks, thanks.
Hi Rachel,
Thanks about the hair. You have great hair too. Let's trade! Ha!
For me the story was a metaphor for how some women change--or even lose themselves completely--for relationships and it also aptly includes a pinch of regret.
I think it's a great piece as is.
I really liked this, too.
Since you asked about what it might need: I wanted her to show us the piano player a little more. Something about how he's playing--that would show us how incapable, most likely, she would be of doing such a thing. Then she could tell us that he "had a family, probably, kids."
The escalators are kinda cool, but I wasn't sold on them as a final gesture. Especially in light of the sequence of events going on: buying clothes, not having sex in the dressing room, listening to the piano. The escalators feel a litte random, even though the story may call for "random."
What if, after she admires the piano player, she decides that maybe she wants to start to get it on in a dressing room? Maybe they can start something, even if she knows they aren't going to go all the way.
Did I just write "go all the way?"
I did.
Sorry.
Anyway: Cool story. It made me think of Denis Johnson--in a good way.
Katrina, thanks for the explanation!
And Chad, thanks for the suggestion about the ending!! I kept reading the escalator part over and over; it didn't "do it" in some way. Maybe because, as you say, she needs to want to "do it" in the dressing room. Nice suggestion. I will play around with it (um...dirty puns, anyone?).
And thanks for the D. Johnson hollaaaa. That's what I was going for--in a good way.
I think the piano player should turn out to be a Soviet spy with a brass foot and bomb around his torso. When they couple walk by, blewy. It's okay as it is, I guess, but come on Rach, let's get some excitement in there!
Also, the couple should have sex in the dressing room. Maybe she's actually a man?
I totally loved this.
rachel, you're so good. i loved this. I don't know why I didn't read it sooner. Love love love it.