‘Have you made up your mind?’ I asked. I wanted to keep my job, so I included Steve in our conversation. ‘Do you think you might be interested in making a purchase today?’
‘No,’ said The Customer. ‘Not yet. For the moment I’m just looking. I need to think it over. Can I have your card?’
Steve was gloating, triumphant. He’d insisted on printing up business cards for me and making me carry them in the pocket of my little white jacket. I didn’t want strangers having my name and the phone number of the store. I’d fought against it, but he’d won.
Now I was glad I’d lost. I took a card from my pocket. It flipped out from between my fingers. Steve and The Customer watched me scramble to pick it up from the floor. I felt my short dress ride up, and I yanked it down. With Steve there, nothing was sexy, just pitiful and clumsy.
‘Thank you,’ The Customer told me and Steve, his gaze focused midway between us. ‘I’ll call when I’ve thought this through.’
‘Perhaps you’d be interested in something that was less of a … financial commitment,’ said Steve.
‘No,’ said The Customer. ‘I wouldn’t.’
And with that, Matthew left the store.
***
The weather turned drizzly, a chilly, watery taste of the winter ahead. I sat at my desk at Doctor Sleep and read a novel about zombies. Sometimes I stared out the window, past the fat cold drips blurring the world outside.
I wished I had never met Matthew.
Until that day he walked in, I’d made my peace with life. No boyfriend, no real job, no career track, a crappy walk-up apartment in Greenpoint next door to my landlord, who screamed at his wife all night. But still I had no major complaints. Hope for the best, my mom always said. Look on the bright side. Something will come along.
Now something had come along, and I’d let it slip through my fingers. I should have done any sex-maniac thing he wanted. I should have made him promise to call me. I should have humbled myself—right in front of Steve—and begged Matthew to stay.
The days dragged on. I could hardly fake the interested smile for the few customers who came in. Once I practically nodded off in the middle of a sale.
Steve hissed, ‘Isabel! Look sharp!’
Look sharp? How sharp did Steve think he looked?
I worked Saturday and got Sunday off. I slept till eleven, then sat in a café and read, like I did at work. Every so often I thought: I am the loneliest person in New York.
I was about to call my mom in Iowa when I got a text from her that said, ‘Faculty potluck. Yuk. Talk later.’ Even my mom had something better to do than talk to me.
At five I met my friend Luke, and we got mojitos at Cielito Lindo, the Mexican restaurant in the East Village where Marcy worked. If we got there early and left early, Marcy let us drink for half price. She’d sit with us for a few minutes, taking sips of our drinks when no one was watching. But around six-thirty she got busy, and after a while she gave us a look that said, ‘You guys better leave.’
Luke was still going to auditions. He’d gotten so thin and dyed his hair such a flashy platinum-blond color that it limited the parts he could get. But I couldn’t tell him that. It wasn’t my place.
We sat in Cielito Lindo, with the late afternoon leaking into the windows, a salsa beat thrumming, everything revving up for maximum deliciousness and fun. But just when things began to get good, Luke and I would have to make room for people who could pay actual money.
On his second mojito, Luke said, ‘Audrey got me an audition for the older brother in a cereal commercial. I didn’t get a callback. I guess they figured out that I’m twice Cereal Boy’s age.’
Three times Cereal Boy’s age, I thought, but didn’t say.
‘How old do I look?’ Luke asked.
‘Hard to tell,’ I white-lied. He was twenty-six, a year older than me. He looked fifteen. He looked thirty. He looked awful.
How old did Matthew think I was? I liked having a secret. Luke, can I tell you something? Promise not to tell. I played weird sex games with a stranger in the store when Steve was out to lunch.
‘Hey, are you in love or something’ Luke said. ‘You have this … glow. Promise me you’re not pregnant.’
‘I promise,’ I said. ‘I’m the same.’ I loved that Luke noticed something different about me. It made me feel almost hopeful. Maybe it was the mojitos kicking in, but suddenly I realised Matthew knew where I worked. He could stop by the store, maybe he would…
‘Are you hungry?’ Luke asked. ‘I know a pretty good Thai spot near here.’ Pretty good Thai spot was his not-so-secret code for even cheaper than Cielito Lindo.
‘That’s okay.’ My stomach heaved at the thought of chopsticking up the gummy, stuck-together, greasy Pad Thai that Luke would want to split. I wanted to go home and think about The Customer and what we’d done—and jerk off and fall asleep.
I said, ‘Next time, okay? I don’t know why I’m so tired. I think I’ll call out for Chinese and watch TV and pass out.’
Walking to the subway, I felt the mojitos wear off within minutes, and I got sad again. Why was I so stupid? Why couldn’t I just text Matthew? But I would never text Matthew first. Back in my apartment, I called my mom, who had gotten home from the faculty picnic.
‘Honey,’ she said. ‘Is something wrong? I can hear it in your voice.’
‘No,’ I said, ‘Really, I’m fine. I’ve been out with my friends. I had a couple of mojitos, maybe that’s what you’re hearing.’
‘As long as you’re having fun,’ Mom said.
‘Oh, I am.’
What a liar I was becoming. And the lies were only just starting…
On Tuesday, the store phone rang. Steve answered. There were no customers. He put the phone on speaker.
I heard Matthew’s voice from across the store. I would have known it anywhere. I closed my eyes for a moment. Then I went closer to the phone.
I heard him say, ‘I’m calling to order the mattress I looked at in your shop a few days ago. That nice young woman helped me … Isabel, is that right?’
He was taking this whole role-playing thing to a new level.
Steve gave me a thumbs up sign. He switched the phone off speaker, put on earphones and began typing into the computer. Numbers came up on screens that dissolved into other screens.
Steve said, ‘Sure thing. You’ll have it tomorrow. Thanks for doing business with Doctor Sleep. Yes, certainly, I’ll tell her. Goodbye.’
‘Tell her what?’ I said.
‘Nothing,’ said Steve. ‘I can’t remember.’
I could have tortured him to find out. Steve walked over to me, so close he was practically standing on my toes. I shrank away.
‘Good work, Isabel,’ he said. ‘That was your friend from last week. He went for the Super Deluxe. He said that the floor model would do, if that was all we had. I think the guy has the hots for you. Otherwise it doesn’t make sense. Guy like that should have an assistant ordering for him, he doesn’t do shit like that himself. You know what I think? I think the guy was hoping you’d answer the phone. I’ll bet you would have liked to talk to him, too.’
I wanted to smack him. But he was right. Why wouldn’t Matthew text me? Maybe he lost my number and this