Stacey Levine - Dra-

“We could marry right now with no problem, if that’s what you like,” the woman went on, picking at her nails. She looked at Dra—. “You could be married with us — that’s what you want, I can see. Well, why not? It’ll be a marriage between Jann Farr and me, and you. What could be easier? It might even make Jann less low — he gets lonely and low, you see, and we don’t know why. He gets bowel cramps and doesn’t like to talk. He likes soup. Oh, he doesn’t pay attention to very much in life — he just wants to be with me, is all. Isn’t everyone always searching for a way to stay together? Sure, they are. I say we all get married, and afterwards, we’ll take a nap.”

Listening to the ongoing sound of the woman’s voice, Dra— remained tightly against the wall, blinking, and the man, scraping a small curved hand along the woman’s gown, whined for more attention. The woman turned to him and then the couple thumped together against the wall, exciting themselves as the woman called out breathlessly to Dra—, “… But I confess I’m not real good at friendships! I tend to drift,” as Dra— began to cry again, this time with a gruesome sense of isolation which recalled, for some reason, a lecture she had attended many months before, on the eve of her acceptance into the employment pool.

It had been a special, formal evening, though she had been troubled by the odor of urine the entire time; no one had spoken to her, either, nor she to anyone — and that night, she had seen The Man with No Hair sitting in the row ahead of her, rigid and unblinking, the picture of paralysis. The speaker that evening, face and mouth covered almost entirely by bandages, was describing something he called “the shadow of self-cruelty,” a difficult idea to explain, he shakily put forth, yet it grew even more imprecise when he tried to convey it with maxims. It could be best understood while lying face down, he finally said, and grew weepy over the subject, which was clearly close to him. The speaker reached for words and tried to take them apart for the purpose of giving the audience insight, but his speech grew absurd; and as he said the unfamiliar word “glickson,” he spilled his mug of drinking water across his front, chilling himself. For the remainder of the lecture he had simply stood before the audience, teeth chattering, blinking back tears.

After some time the woman staggered over, pushing Dra— onto a heap of pillows on the floor, then fell down next to her, saying, “Why such a crybaby?” as she tied the sash of her gown. “You feel left out, I guess,” she said, “but that’s the kind of thing that makes me soar! I love being a little ahead of everyone. I love being married, and I love being smarter and luckier than others. Why don’t we all go down to the storeroom, get married, then find some water to drink — aren’t you thirsty? After marrying, you’ll feel you belong to something, sugar.” The man crept next to the woman and lay stiffly on his side.

The woman propped herself on her elbow and took the man’s cigarette, smoking it, considering things.

“It’ll be an easy marriage,” she mused, “and anyone who says it isn’t will be a fraud. Why, we could invite the skeptical to join in if they liked. Why not? I don’t mind changes like that. I like things loose and easy. Shouldn’t people be tied to one another in every possible way? Then we stand the least chance of having to roam around alone. It’s true, I can feel it in my bones,” the woman said blandly, sighing.

“Oh, silly, silly,” muttered the man, mouth on the woman’s shoulder.

Rolling over, stretching her arms, yawning and sitting up, the woman continued, “I’ve got Jann, at least. You can see we’re never apart.”

Quietly, Dra— began again to cry.

“Oh, you cry because you look at me and see how free a person can be!” the woman exclaimed, patting hard between the man’s shoulder-blades, small as a doll’s. “You feel constrained, you think your life is fixed in stone. Well, sugar, it’s not! Listen to me. You can choose what you like to do, and when, and how. Isn’t that what you want? We’re all seeking little escapes, aren’t we, one after the next? Well, go on! You pick your own path, your own instruments of justice, anything you please! Everyone does it.”

“No they don’t!” she cried.

“Ah, there’s a loser for you,” the woman remarked in a tired, easy-going way. She rubbed her lower gums for a moment with a finger. “Stay here with us, will you? I like you, and I like the way all this feels.” She tamped her heavy, dusty bare foot on the floor.

“But, my Administrator—”

“Oh, blow it to hell!” cried the woman with irritation. “Forget that woman. You don’t need her when you can come with us. If you play your cards right, you’ll see that life is good and long, and nothing is as hard as you think.”

“Do you mean that life is easy, but we just try to make it hard?”

“Well, yes, yes, that’s it!” the woman looked at her in surprise, mouth smiling, open. “That’s right.” She smoothed her flimsy robe. “Let it all out, honey, say whatever you like.”

Awkwardly, Dra— stared at her, pulling at a thread at the top of her skirt.

The woman went on gently, “I just don’t believe in complicated problems, see. It’s a trick I learned when I was a baby. You can learn it, too.”

Nodding seriously, Dra— agreed, and she lay back, quietly beginning to describe for the woman a frequent daydream of hers in which she, Dra—, walked confidently, perhaps even with a trace of ennui, into a departmental bathroom, only to reemerge a few minutes later without a care in the world, then moved onward to the Nurse’s outpost to wait for her, harboring none of the tension or despair of individuals who are routinely defeated by life.

Dra— omitted the last portion of the daydream, which involved meeting for regular discussions with the Nurse in a trailer, and she stowed this privately away so she might savor it later.

The woman looked at her curiously, loosening an earring. “Do you know a secret about me?” she asked. “Say no.”

“No.”

“That’s right, you don’t, and I’m going to tell you.” She leaned forward, onto her palms. “No one is good enough for me. That’s my feeling, down deep. I hate people just a little. Do you think that’s bad? Well, it’s part of me and I don’t care!” She turned onto her stomach. “My little brother was so splendid that I was always called ‘The Awful Giant,’ but I never gave a hang and I still don’t! I go my own way and keep relaxed. It’s a talent most don’t have. Nothing bothers me, and everyone is jealous of that!” She laughed, slapping the man, and he flinched. “I try to make them even more jealous so they’ll appear ugly and then I can hate them less — but that doesn’t always work.” She sighed. “Aren’t you jealous of Jann and me?”

“No.”

“Yes you are, but no more than he is about you.” The woman pinched the man on the neck, and he moaned and began to snuffle into her hand. “I’m the strong one, and that relaxes me so,” the woman said, pulling him close.

Staring at the man and woman’s hands fastening and twisting upon one another, Dra— felt her anger rise again and her will leak away; she curled against the coarse pillow, closing her eyes, groaning to the woman, “Please, let me find my Administrator!”

“Oh, listen to you!” The woman looked up. “What do you want from her? You’re so sick over her that I’d just as soon bring her to you right now, but I’m too busy. Besides, she’s no easy cup of tea, you know.”

The woman stroked the man’s head as if to shield him, and went on. “It’s terrible, the way she never even bothers to come wave hello to a pretty girl like you and all the others! Forget it, that’s what I say. Wasn’t she supposed to come and take you under her wing? Well, she didn’t. It’s over now: don’t brood.”