5. Window Shopping #2
Henry’s eyes squinted and the corners of his mouth turned down.
“I may be bad at relationships, but I have not resorted to dating my cat just yet. I didn’t even want the cat in the first place, but sometimes you’re in a relationship with a man you want to make your husband, so you adopt a pet you’re allergic to anyway.
Which is to say, there’s a reason love is the sixth and final step on your wildly streamlined how-to article.
Love is not as simple as picking another human being and hoping for the best.” He flipped the fish and it landed with a pleasing splat.
“Well, it sort of is, but I swear it’s way more complicated when you’re in the thick of it.
Emotions are never just straightforward. ”
“Sort of like how earlier you said you were frustrated and confused and annoyed and amazed and…”
“Okay. You have a perfect memory. No more lists. Thank you.” He stared at me. “That’s not exactly what I was getting at. However, uh, why do you want to be human, anyway? Being human mostly sucks.”
“How can moving and talking and sleeping suck?” I asked. “Being a human seems amazing.”
“Those are only the basics. Try working until you’re sixty-five or doing your taxes or folding laundry.
Try putting away your folded laundry, then tell me being human is amazing.
Not even to touch upon war, famine, jury duty .
Trust me, you were better off as you were before,” he said, turning back to his pan.
“I get the impression you’re trying to convince me that I want to be a mannequin again with the hope that a change in my attitude might revert your wish,” I said, keying into his obviousness.
“That—that is not true! All I’m doing is laying out the cold, harsh reality for you. There are so many downsides to being human. You could break a bone, get a disease, go into debt, get stuck in a building fire! Do you want to get trapped in a burning building?” he asked exasperatedly.
I absorbed his words and ill-fated attempts at persuasion, then said, “My mouth is dry.” Because it was, and I wasn’t sure what to do about it in this unfamiliar space he called an “apartment.”
He sighed dramatically. “The sink is filtered water, so help yourself.” He pointed to the faucet to the left of where he was cooking.
I flipped on the cold and, like the night before, stuck my head under the stream with my tongue out. Suddenly, there was a second tongue in the mix. Topher had leapt up onto the counter.
“What are you— Topher, watch your tail!” Henry exclaimed.
Jarred, I reared back and hit the top of my head on the cabinet. Good thing I was still tickled by the experience of pain, otherwise I would’ve been yelping expletives.
“Are you all right?” Henry asked, swiping at Topher and turning the stovetop to a low simmer.
“I think so,” I said.
A minute later, Henry placed a clear cylinder on the table in front of me and handed me a baggie of ice. “Put that on your head where you hit it, and this”—he pointed to the water receptacle—“is a cup. Humans use these to drink out of.”
The baggie pressed on my head sent a shiver down my spine. My hair provided enough cushion for it to be semi-comfortable. “I saw a picture of these on the list.”
“They’re in the cabinet to the right of the stove. Let’s leave the sink-lapping to Topher,” he said before an uncontrolled ahchoo barreled out of him. “I’m fine. Just a sneeze. Totally normal. Topher’s fault.”
Henry served “dinner,” which from the way my stomach was talking, I desperately needed.
Instantly, I seared my fingertips on the salmon filet.
Henry got me more ice and talked me through the utensils he set out beside the loaded plate.
The three-pronged fork, the curvaceous spoon, and the usually-dangerous-but-this-one-was-just-serrated knife.
They perplexed me, but I clumsily fumbled my way through using them.
When sauce dribbled down my chin, Henry passed me a “napkin,” which I blotted my mouth with so as not to get stains on my clothes—the ones I’d been wearing in the display. When a hunk of salmon flew off my plate as I attempted to cut it, Topher happily snatched up the scraps.
At the end of the meal, Henry declared, “I need to take a shower.”
“Showering, yes,” I said, combing through my recently formed memory. “I read about that in the hygiene section of the how-to list. Is that something we can do together?”
Henry’s cheeks turned a blazing pink. “Uh, no. It’s more of a solo activity. Come, I’ll show you.”
In the bathroom, Henry provided explanations of the various cloths, products, and knobs used when showering.
My head spun with the information, but I couldn’t deny the funk wafting up from my skin after the dancing and the vomiting and the re-mannequining.
I wanted to smell like the bright red, pomegranate-scented body wash with the little beads in it.
“Now, this you’ll do without your clothes on, so once I step out—”
In the time it took him to say that I’d shucked my socks, pants, and shirt (in that order).
When he caught sight of me, he jumped as if frightened and pivoted toward the toilet.
“Um, okay. I was going to say once I step outside and close the door, but… Hey, at least that answers the question about your situation below the wai— You know what, never mind. I’m not even going to touch down there.
Gah, I mean, go! Go there! I’m not even going to go there .
Sorry. Take as long as you want. I’ll be in my room. Just, um, shout if you need something.”
He flitted out of the room with a hand over his eyes.
The experience of my first shower was pleasing. The heat mixed with the fragrances and the lather of a washcloth across my skin relaxed my muscles and calmed my mind. Unconsciously, I started to sing. “For we need a little Christmas…”
Around my third refrain, my fingertips and the bottoms of my toes grew shriveled.
Worried I’d somehow overdone it, I stopped the water and called for Henry.
“Yeah?” I popped my hand out from around the shower curtain and asked if this was normal.
“Getting pruny? Yeah. I mean, my gas and water bills are going to be astronomical after that concert you just performed but drink some water from a glass and you’ll be fine.
” He passed a towel to me. I got the hint that I needed to cover up.
“Where did you learn that song?” he asked after a beat.
“The store. From that music box you have of the fancy lady singing.”
“Angela Lansbury, may she rest in peace.”
“Rest in peace?” I asked.
“I can’t explain death to a mannequin-turned-man when I’m this stinky and this tired.
Would you mind hopping out so I can get in?
” After Henry left, I toweled off and dressed in the pajamas he’d left behind for me—a matching set made of dark green flannel that were slightly too tight.
Emerging from the humidity, I found Henry standing with his hands on his waist in the living room, where he’d covered his couch with a sheet and laid out a blanket and pillow.
“I’ve set you up here to sleep tonight. If you don’t want to sleep, you’ll find the remote for the TV in the drawer on your left.
I don’t like to leave it out because while I’m at work Topher always finds a way to turn it on.
I swear he’s addicted to daytime talk shows,” he said.
“Anyway, I’ll keep Topher in my room with me so he doesn’t bother you. Need anything else?”
My mind was empty. “No.”
“Perfect. Then, uh, sleep well…” He furrowed his brow. “What do I call you?”
“Call me?”
“Yes, what’s your name?” he asked. “My name is Henry. Topher’s name is Topher. What’s yours supposed to be?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “There wasn’t a name on my card.”
“You’ll need one,” he said. “I don’t feel right picking one for you, so think about it tonight, okay?”
“Thinking. Yes, I can do that.”
“Maybe the TV will inspire you,” he said, backing out of the room. “Good night.”
“Good night,” I parroted.
For a while, I lay in the darkness with my eyes closed but my ears open.
Water running. Footsteps. Doors closing.
A loud, monotonous buzzing. I memorized the sounds and matched them with images in my mind, but the more I did that, the more awake I felt.
The more my mind ramped up with excitement.
I still had so much to learn and a name to choose.
When Henry stopped fussing around, I fished the TV remote from the drawer he’d pointed out. Several buttons later, the screen animated. Humans talked, shouted, sang, threw wine in each other’s faces. It was riveting!
Channel by channel, app by app, I got sucked in further, privy to the wide breadth of human experience contained in a single black box.