How To Disappear Completely Page 5

  While we shifted around in our chairs in preparation to finally eat, I stopped looked down at my plate with bewilderment. “What is it?” Nicole asked. I picked up my duck leg as if it were a sword being unsheathed and held it en guarde towards Nicole. After a short hesitation, she did the same and we laughed.

  “Well, you certainly have me trying new things,” I said as the laughter started to slow.

  “Hopefully there will be many new things for us.”

  The conversation kept going with another bottle of wine as we took turns eating and talking, stopping occasionally here and there for an extra bite or two.

  We debated a third bottle of wine or perhaps a tiramisu, but decided to head out into the world as our dessert. The lights of Boston at night were enough to fill any appetite left over after a meal. The check came and went before I even noticed how much the meal was, but I really didn’t care. So I lost my job and have no actual income, who cares? A quick, slight bow from the waiter and we were off.

  We drifted a little as we walked, leaving a curvy trail of shoe skids and high heel divots along the sidewalk like a flattened golf ball. We walked down Mass Ave out to the Harvard Bridge where I had spotted her earlier that day. Time had moved so slowly between our goodbye at the bridge that morning and our hello at dinner. I tried to take a good look at her without her noticing, but of course she noticed. “What do you think you’re doing?” she said as she caught my wandering eyes. “I’m just trying to take as much of you in as I can.”

  She had to stand up on her toes a little, even in heels, but she tossed her arms around my neck and looked me right in the eyes. “So what do you think?”

  “I think that you can’t possibly be real.” Only after a few drinks could I turn into a smooth talker. Had no wine or Jack been involved I probably would have said something like “I like it a lot.” So hot. She pressed her body as close to me as she could so that I could feel her chest against mine and whispered, “Do I feel real enough now?”

  Who are you, I thought, and how did you end up here on this bridge with me? It was clear what was supposed to happen next, but part of me couldn’t do it. I’d never cheated on anyone before and wasn’t sure if I was ready to be that guy. “Nicole,” I said, regretting speaking almost immediately, “there are few things I would enjoy more than kissing you here right now–”

  “So do it.”

  Chapter 7

  There had been no greater kiss in my life than the one I experienced there in the chilly glow of the headlights and taillights along Harvard Bridge. It echoed around in my skin, burrowing its way deeper into my marrow and shaking me from the inside. Her lips were soft and smooth, ripe with the delicious, sweet and bitter taste of wine. I reached my hand up to the back of her neck, running my fingers through her hair close to the skin and I felt her melt and drip like wax all over my body.

  The moment lasted for a while as if we were in a movie: The camera spun in a circle around us like the sun as seen by a revolving planet. A dramatic, chunky indie-rock beat sped up with our heart beats as the camera continued to rotate around us. She was the first to retreat–slowly. My eyes stayed shut for a few moments after she had opened hers, hoping I wouldn’t have to open them. I had to remind my lips to shut as I finally opened my eyes.

  “Walk me home?” she asked softly.

  “Of course.”

  We walked briskly back across the bridge to the Cambridge side and I made a mental note to take the bus home. We didn’t say much on the walk back. I imagined that she was playing back the evening in her mind, fast-forwarding through the parts that could be edited out and rewinding over and over the highlights. I did the same, but probably had different notions of what the best parts were. Most of mine were just looking at her.

  For the first time in a long while, I didn’t think about what this may have meant for me. My analytical mind was usually clocked in, didn’t take vacations and never needed much sleep. I didn’t think about what this meant for Allison. I didn’t think about what I would need to tell her. I didn’t think about how she would react. I didn’t think about The Unholy One relentlessly taking me down on her orders. I didn’t even think about the fact that I had no job or any prospects in getting a new job. All I cared about was walking Nicole home with the hope of another kiss.

  We rounded the corner her street before she broke the silence. “I know it’s the most common thing you could possibly say after a first date, but I really did have a great time. You are so sweet.”

  I wasn’t really sure what to say so I just looked at her and said “I had a great time too.”

  Then she said shyly, but devilishly, “Do you want to come in for another drink or some coffee?”

  I smiled and let out a little laugh.

  “What?” she asked.

  “There is nothing that I would love more than to come in, but I really don’t think that either of us is prepared for what could happen in there. Let’s not get too ahead of ourselves, ok?”

  “Who are you, Josh?”

  “I was hoping you could tell me.”

  We both smiled and she leaned up against me. She was standing one step up, so we were almost at eye. Again she kissed me, with as much passion as the first.

  “Good night, Josh,” she said with a hint of disappointment in her voice.

  “Good night,” I said as she turned around and went up the steps to the front door and unlocked it. She turned her head slightly around before going in and I waited until the door shut before starting my way home.

  The bus stop was just a block away. I walked, almost skipping, across the street to the bus stop and sat down. The air was much colder now, without the warmth of Nicole’s body. For whatever reason, Allison popped into my head and I remembered our first kiss. Was it as powerful as this? I tried to remember. Did I feel this way back then? It made me wonder if the feeling I have now would ever leave. Damn you Allison, I thought, for ruining this moment.

  By the time the bus came I had already decided that it would be unfair for this passion to ever fade. Eventually it would. It always does. After the first kiss, each subsequent kiss would be less and less special until it became a habitual act instead of a treasured moment. This was true of so many things, I thought, wishing that I had come to a different realization on the bus heading back home. Why should we ever continue anything, I thought, if the first parts are the best? The initial rush of life as things are fresh is the best part. Wouldn’t that eventually go away? Is there any way to prevent it? If not, what is the point?

  By the time I got home, I was so depressed by the theories my mind had concocted that I had lost my focus on how wonderful the night had really been. All I could think about was that eventually Nicole would become like Allison and she’d feel so comfortable with the way things were that she wouldn’t want to move forward anymore. What a shitty way to end the night, I thought, as I brushed my teeth. When I finally laid down into bed, I tried to change my perspective. I thought maybe with some people it never fades. You hear about couples that have been married for 20 years and they’re just as much in love as the day they met. I wondered if maybe they were lying, like politicians, for the good of the community. Maybe people will think that it’s possible if we say it is… . And that is how I fell asleep.

  ?

  I woke up with a slight hangover. Like a moron I didn’t drink any water the whole night, just Jack and wine. Then I thought it was more likely because my body was tired from my mind working out all goddamn night. Sometimes I wondered what it would be like to not be so thoughtful, to not take on every problem placed in front of me, to not have to answer my own questions like it was a debate.

  I got in the shower and started to think about Allison again. She is going to be devastated when I tell her about all of this. She has to have realized by this point, though, what she got herself into when she said no. Did she expect me to just wait around until she was ready? I put my whole life on the line and into her hands and she smeared the li
ne and spread her fingers, letting me fall through like grains of sand. I wondered what would have happened if I had met Nicole 3 months later. Would it have been as exciting? Would I still have felt so guilty after formally breaking it off with Allison?

  I realized that most of these questions had no answer. So when I got out of the shower, I made myself some coffee and decided that I should figure out at least one answer to the many questions of my life: I needed a job. That was the way my mind worked. Find one correct answer and let the rest disappear. So I stole the neighbor’s newspaper and went to the job listings page wondering if that section still existed in the age of the Internet. Sure enough, there it was, and so I went through and circled ones that I thought might suit me.

  Most of them were data entry jobs that I figured would soon be filled by software. The occasional fun one would pop up, but was normally already taken by the time the ad was printed. The cool places around town somehow filled positions before actually having them available, as if there were some waiting list that people get on for the next available slot.

  I remembered that the day before, Nicole had told me to look into doing music reviews, and after she mentioned it again last night I felt as though there was no reason not to. Unfortunately the Globe had nothing of the sort to offer me. That is certainly one of the jobs with a waiting list, I thought, as I moved on to other ideas and decided to try an old-fashioned way of looking for a job.

  ?

  I made my way down past Allston Beat, JP Licks, Newbury Comics and all the hip places. But even the usually under-staffed Trident Booksellers didn’t have anything for me. I walked the street just as I did yesterday, but without the deep electronic score of stacked sine waves, pops and clicks. I looked in every storefront I walked by for a “Wanted” sign, but no luck. I was getting nervous that no one actually did that anymore. TGI Fridays didn’t need a bartender. Tealuxe didn’t need any servers. All the chic restaurants I wouldn’t have a chance at with my goofy haircut and couple of visible tattoos. I made a pact with myself to apply for the first Wanted sign that I saw.

  Desperation set in as I turned around at the Commons. There has to be something out there, I thought. Another Starbucks probably wouldn’t hire me after what happened. And I didn’t want to work at a different coffee shop and have to re-learn some other way of making coffee. I felt like a foot soldier doing reconnaissance disguised as a civilian–finding out what businesses we could hide our soldiers in for the right time to strike. But the mission was looking to be a bust.

  I rounded the corner back onto Mass Ave, and there it was–the butt of jokes for college kids around the city. A Wanted sign had just gone up in the window of Sweet and Nasty. I could see the woman who had just planted the sign there turn around to head back in. You have got to be kidding me, I thought to myself. The sign wasn’t there on my way here. Someone wanted me to wait until I had no hope left. That way it wouldn’t seem so bad because, hey, I found something. Along with selling candies shaped like phalluses and sex toys, their small shop made adult-themed cakes. Customers had their choice of a big chocolate cock, a set of hooters. They even offered a woman’s crotch, complete with ‘furry’ chocolate shavings.

  I’m sure every college kid in the city at some point had a taste of a giant penis cake. They were a mainstay of 21st birthday parties, gay pride socials, and girl’s nights out. After taking a moment to think of the absurdity of applying for, let alone getting, the job, I forced myself to walk in. I’d never actually been inside the place, but I had walked by it so many times that I felt as though I had. When I made my way through the door, I saw the lady that put the sign up was writing some words with frosting onto a giant penis cake. “What’s that one going to say?”

  She smiled wryly and said, “Happy fucking birthday, slut.”

  “Classic,” I mumbled.

  She just nodded, as if to say what else can you say really?

  “So I just noticed that you put up that Help Wanted sign.”

  “You think you’d be good at this?”

  “Well what all is involved in the job?”

  “We make all the cakes here, though you wouldn’t have to do that part, at least for now. You’d be required to do a lot of random things, there is normally only one of us on the floor at a time. Someone is in the back making the cakes, but someone has to be out here for all the walk-in customers. You’d have to write on the cakes, answer the phones, take orders, and keep the place tidy. It’s actually a good bit of work.”

  “Do you like it?

  “Yeah it’s alright, they pay pretty well, considering what you’re doing.”

  “Well I may as well fill out an application, right?”

  “Full time or part time.”

  “Probably full time,” I guessed was the right answer.

  “Great, we could definitely use the help.”

  The application was just basic information. I always wondered how anyone could figure a person out by an application. The interview is really what makes or breaks a hire. Most employers say that they can tell within 10 seconds of someone walking in the door whether they have the job. 10 seconds. That goes for high-level jobs as well as the Burger Kings.

  “Who’s the manager here?”

  “Her name is Karen. She doesn’t come by very often, but if she likes your résumé, she’ll come in for an interview.”

  “So should I just bring this back to you then?”

  “Or whoever is working at the time.”

  “Great, thanks.” I turned around before deciding that I should be more cordial. “I’m Josh, by the way.”

  “Carrie,” she said smiling as if to say Sorry, unable to shake a hand or high five because she was covered in frosting. Clearly she didn’t normally do the lettering on the cakes. “Well hopefully I’ll see you here again when I get the job.” I could feel some of the excess confidence get stuck in my throat like phlegm from a cold. The bell of the door cued my exit and I stepped back out into a world where penises weren’t made of butter, sugar, eggs and flour.

  When I got home, I tossed the solitary application onto my desk so that it could at least be nearby some other paper goods. Even though they probably didn’t speak the same language, they could at least smile and nod to each other every now and again reaffirming each other’s existence like strangers in a coffee shop.

  Glancing at the computer, I noticed that I had an instant message from Nicole waiting for me.

  nickylox85: hey you, what r you up to today?

  I wondered how long ago the message was left, but it didn’t say. Then I thought about what she may have said if she were with me on my quest that day. Would she have laughed at the notion of Sweet and Nasty or maybe been repulsed. I debated telling her at all, but decided to not start building our relationship on lies.

  jbone1492: i was out looking for a job all day.

  I replied, wondering if she was actually there still or had moved on. I waited to see if there was a response, but after a minute or so I figured she was doing other things. I grabbed a pen, pulled the cap off and started my way through the Sweet and Nasty application. All the basic information came easily, without need for reference. Occasionally I pulled out some old phone numbers of bosses, who probably didn’t work at my old employers anymore, but I had to put down something. I debated whether or not to include Marcus and Starbucks, but I had been there for the last few years and decided that I’d better. Despite how I was let go, Marcus would be nice to whoever called and say that I was let go for some benign reason. I had given him years of quality work. The least he could do was to help me move on.

  Every detail of my employment history (that I wanted them to know about) was once again on paper for someone else to judge me on. It was a cruel system, especially for those who didn’t look good on paper. But I guess it was even crueler in the first 10 seconds of an interview for those who didn’t look good in person. I’ve got decent marks on both, I thought, and folded the paper hot dog style placing it in vi
ew next to my computer monitor.

  My computer chimed informing me that I had received an instant message. It was Nicole again.

  nickylox85: that’s great ? and?

  jbone1492: i was hoping to find some sort of job in the paper for writing, but i couldn’t find any. then i ended up walking down newbury looking for help wanted signs.

  nickylox85: lol that’s funny. did you find anything?

  jbone1492: i did grab one application, but it’s kind of a weird place.

  nickylox85: it’s not condom world is it?

  jbone1492: haha no not that weird I suppose. close. one more guess.

  nickylox85: umm..

  jbone1492: they do have some risqué stuff, but it’s mostly edible…

  nickylox85: no way. sweet & nasty?

  jbone1492: ha, yeah.

  nickylox85: my girlfriends got me a cake from there the other night before we went to our house.

  jbone1492: which one?

  nickylox85: it was a cake in the shape of a penis with frosting at the tip.

  jbone1492: ha, it’s the details that count.

  nickylox85: tt was more detailed than that, but we’ll leave some of the details unsaid.

  jbone1492: fair enough.

  nickylox85: what are you doing later?

  jbone1492: nothing really planned, why?

  nickylox85: i was just thinking maybe we could hang out.

  jbone1492: I’d love to, what do you want to do?

  nickylox85: some guys are having a party over here at school. maybe we could go to that?

  jbone1492: i haven’t been to a college party in a few years.