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Halle Butler: Jillian

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Halle Butler Jillian

Jillian: краткое содержание, описание и аннотация

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Megan, recently out of college and working a meaningless job as a gastroenterologist's secretary, openly hates all of her friends for being happy and successful. She makes herself feel better by obsessively critiquing the behavior of her coworker, Jillian, a rapid cycling, grotesque optimist, whose downfall is precipitated by the purchase of a dog.

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“Oh my god, you look so tiny next to that llama,” said Jessica.

Peering over Bill’s shoulder, Megan could see that Carrie had lots of nice plants in her office.

“I’m so lucky. I love my boss and I love my office,” said Carrie, reaching again for her phone. She gave the photo of herself a little smile before putting it away.

Megan looked across the party and saw Randy by the bathroom. She was trapped between Jessica and a coffee table. To get to Randy would require her to either step over the coffee table or ask Jessica to press herself against the wall, and Jessica looked like she was having a nice time.

“Well,” said Carrie. “I have some cool news.”

It would be rude to interrupt Jessica’s good time.

“You know that magazine, Dale Carnegie? They’re doing a 30 under 30 thing next issue.”

And it would really look like she was a wild animal or something if she tried to climb over the table. And plus her ass still hurt, so it wouldn’t be graceful. She’d have to limp her way out of the corner.

“Do we know any of the 30 under 30?” Bill asked.

“I’ll say,” said Carrie. She was being cheeky.

A girl named Annie walked up to their small group and said, “Hey! Sorry, I was eavesdropping. Is it you? Are you one of the 30 under 30?”

Carrie nodded.

Megan reached into her purse and took out another beer, her third. The sound of the tab cracking was, she thought, a nice contribution. Cheers! She drank very quickly.

Annie took out a cigarette and said, “That’s awesome.” Annie and Megan had met before. Megan cleared her throat.

“Hey, Annie, can I have one of those?” she asked.

“Oh, sure,” said Annie.

“Randy has mine. I can pay you back later.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it. Really.”

Annie passed her a Camel and then held out her pink lighter, already lit. Megan had to dip her head into the middle of the conversation—which had stopped, maybe pointedly—to light her smoke out of Annie’s hand. Megan straightened, leaving behind a plume of smoke.

“Thanks,” she said.

“It’s cool. I feel like I haven’t seen you in a while, Megan. What have you been up to?” asked Annie.

Everyone was still being quiet and staring, which didn’t really feel polite.

“Well, I cut my ass on a knife in the kitchen sink.”

It was uncomfortable to have four people looking at her and listening to what she was saying. She took a drink of beer while Annie laughed a little and said, “What?”

“I fell in the sink on a knife and cut my ass.”

“Oh my god, are you all right?”

“Sure,” said Megan.

“Did you have to go to the doctor?”

“Nah,” said Megan. “Now that it’s over, it’s kind of funny.”

“Hmm,” said Annie. Her face communicated that she didn’t really think it was that funny.

“Hey,” said Megan, looking at Jessica. “Could I get by you? I have to pee.”

“Ok, sure.”

“Thanks for the cigarette,” Megan said to Annie. Annie forced a smile and waved.

On her way to the bathroom, Megan stopped by Randy. She whispered, “Carrie can roll it up and stick it in her prim little asshole.”

“Jesus Christ,” said Randy. Prim little asshole.

There was a line for the bathroom.

The tall guy in front of her said, “So you’re in the line, too, huh?”

“Yeah,” said Megan. She covered her mouth to burp and opened another beer.

“Sucks. This always happens at these things,” said the guy.

“Yeah, well. It’s an apartment. They don’t usually have more than one bathroom.”

“You want to come in with me? I could pee in the tub if you really need to go.”

“No, I’m good, thanks,” said Megan.

“Hey, man, I was just offering ok?”

“Yeah, I know, it’s fine.”

“You don’t have to act like an asshole about it.”

“Well, I don’t really think I’m being an asshole. I just don’t, uh, I don’t really have to go that bad.”

“Then why are you in the bathroom line? There are people who actually have to go, you know.”

Megan looked behind her and saw no one.

“I just think I can wait, that’s all.”

“What kind of accent is that?” asked the guy.

“What do you mean? I don’t have an accent.”

“Yes you do. Are you a liar?”

“I mean . . . I’m from Michigan.”

“You have a foreign accent,” said the guy, and then the bathroom door opened. “Ladies first.”

“No, really, go ahead,” said Megan. “Allow me to do this one thing for you.” The guy snorted. He was in and out in a minute. He didn’t wash his hands. When he got out of the bathroom, he held the door open for her and bowed a little.

Megan locked the door behind her, washed her hands, then pulled down her pants. There were no leaks on the bandage and she decided to leave it alone. She pulled her pants back up, finished her beer, and looked at herself in the mirror.

“Hello,” she said to herself before leaving. “Hello, darling.”

Amanda, a familiar face from school, was in the kitchen looking in the refrigerator.

“Hey, familiar face, I have beer,” said Megan.

“Phew!” said Amanda. Amanda was nice to Megan and she had an unpretentious look. Amanda was low-medium pretty, less pretty than Megan, which put Megan at ease, but more attractive than Megan because she bothered to groom herself. Megan observed that Amanda’s level of grooming was not too high, though, and then she felt guilty for gauging her comfort with Amanda by such idiotic standards. Megan reached into her purse and handed Amanda a beer.

“How many beers do you have in there?”

Megan looked in her bag and said, “Used to be 24, but now I’m not sure.”

“Hahaha, you’re nuts.”

“Oh, I’m nuts,” said Megan. “I’m a regular nut.”

“So, what’s up? How’s work?”

“Work is . . . I spend 32 hours a week with a woman who isn’t allowed to cut her hangnails for religious reasons. Vanity or something. We listen to lite Christian rock together all day. She forwards me photo threads of baby animals with affirmations at the bottom and she belches all the time.”

Amanda laughed and said, “Gee whiz.” Megan shrugged and offered up a cheers.

There was that kind of pause that happens when one person is trying to think of something interesting to say while the other person waits. Megan grimaced and said, “I’m not that interesting.”

Amanda laughed again. Then she became serious and said, “Hey, are you going to look for something else? You seem pretty unhappy.”

“Ehh, I don’t know. I’ve looked, and I usually end up feeling pretty overwhelmed and under-qualified for all of the interesting jobs, and then I have a thought spiral, and then I feel like I made a bad move somewhere back in middle school, and then I feel like there’s no hope at all for me and then I contemplate suicide.”

Amanda rolled her eyes in a friendly way and said, “I know what you mean, but it’s not that big of a deal. You just apply for stuff. And fake it.”

“I’m just trying to live pure,” said Megan. “Ambition’s for the devil.”

At that moment, Carrie walked up and gave Amanda a hug and said, “Oh my god, girl!” Megan opened another beer and put the empty back in her purse. “I’ve got to show you this llama my boss and I bought off a homeless guy.”

“Hahaha,” said Amanda, taking Carrie’s phone. “It’s enormous! Megan, have you seen this?”

“Yeah, I’ve seen it.”

“Hey, can I get a cigarette?” asked Carrie.

“Oh sure,” said Amanda. “You want one?”

“Yeah, thanks,” said Megan.

“I quit,” said Carrie. “I quit smoking and I quit coffee, and I feel so much better now.”

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