Chapter Nine #2
“Fine, I won’t do that. I’m going to find a naked picture of him and send it to Liberty Lately,” I say. “See how he likes it.”
She snorts. “No you’re not. Don’t do that. You’re going to get yourself in trouble.”
“Don’t worry. I won’t send it from my work email,” I say.
“Don’t send it from any email, Darcy. Sending naked pictures of people is, like, revenge porn. And we’re making a lot of assumptions. It might not even be the guy from Liberty Lately, let alone Douglas. Who knows?”
“Who else would it be?” I ask.
Try not to post this on the internet Joy texts me with a naked photo of her. It’s her reflection in a bathroom mirror. Her hair and skin are wet, and the mirror is foggy.
I heart the picture, then take one under my shirt and send it to her.
Feel free to post this one. Everyone’s already seen it.
I save Joy’s photo in a folder on my phone titled JOY NAKED. She is aware of the folder and finds it hysterical. I’m a librarian, someone concerned with preserving informational assets and memories. I’ve explained to her, “I save these pictures as an archive.”
She laughs. “Mhm. I’m sure that’s why you save them.”
I scroll through the photos. In one, she’s lying in our bed.
Her hair is fanned out behind her. Her face is pink and sleep flushed.
Some of the photos are of us together. In one, we’re topless at a hotel, kissing in the mirror.
In another, she’s in the bath, with beads of water on her chest. There’s a close-up of her back; there’s a sunburn on her shoulders.
Our legs are tangled in another, both half-dressed, our skin pressed together.
There’s a blurry photo she took of herself naked and laughing—with her chin jutted into her neck.
Despite my better judgment, I had attempted to introduce Kyle to Lou and Toulouse again.
I followed the same protocol I did last time.
I placed cat food on either side of the living room.
I scattered boxes for them to hide in. I’d also purchased and sprayed a synthetic pheromone that was supposed to make the cats feel calm.
The pheromone did not make the cats feel calm.
In fact, I think it might have made them angrier.
This attempt was worse than the first. Lou charged at Kyle.
Kyle stood his ground and fought back. Toulouse stood in the wings, howling, as if cheering Lou on.
I was screaming. I had to pull the cats apart.
I got scratched and severely bitten on my arm.
The bite left two puncture marks near my wrist. It looks like I was bitten by a fanged vampire bat.
I’ve locked Kyle back in the workshop like a criminal in solitary confinement.
I’m angry at Lou for biting him. I’m angry at Toulouse for egging her on.
I’ve locked both cats out of my bedroom due to my disappointment in their behavior.
I can hear them yodeling on the other side of the door, pawing, desperate to come in—but they’re not welcome.
Instead, I’m staring into the blue glow of my laptop, nursing my wrist, scowling at Doug’s Facebook page.
I’m brooding about how despicable it is for this guy to screenshot my accidental nude and share it with anti-library, bigoted extremists.
I’ve been nothing but kind to this guy. Despite some serious imperfections, I saw the good in him.
I associated him with buffoonish fairy godmothers and loving his sister.
Hi Doug, I write on Facebook Messenger.
Hey, he replies quickly.
Long time no chat, I write.
Yeah, for real. What’s up?
Can i speak to you on the phone?
Why?
I have a serious topic to discuss.
Okay, sure. Here’s my number: 555-555-0156.
“Hello. Dougie speaking.”
“Hi, this is Darcy,” I say.
“Hey girl, what’s up? How’re you doing?”
He has a raspy voice.
I inhale, preparing to confront him. “I’m all right, thank you. How are you?”
“I’m okay. I think I know why you’re calling.”
“Oh yeah?” I narrow my eyes.
“Mhm. It’s because you heard about Benny, right?”
My stomach drops.
He goes on, “I didn’t see you at the funeral. I looked for you. I thought maybe you’d show. Were you there? I’m sorry if I missed you.”
“O-oh, no,” I say. “I-I didn’t hear about it until after, unfortunately.”
“Ah damn,” he says. “I’m sorry. Maybe I should have messaged you or something. My bad. I didn’t think of it.”
I say, “Oh, that’s okay. You had other things on your mind, I’m sure. I don’t live in the area anymore, anyway. I probably couldn’t have made it regardless.”
“Right, right. So, are you calling to find out what happened, then?”
My throat is spasming. “Yes.”
“Okay. So, it was a brain aneurysm. Apparently, it was really quick and it didn’t hurt.
He came home from work one day, and I guess there was this weak spot in his brain.
The doctors told us it was instant. He may have had a headache before, but he didn’t even know it was happening, and he wouldn’t have felt any pain.
That’s what they told his family, and I don’t think they were lying.
I really think it was quick and it didn’t hurt. ”
My eyes are closed. I have a hand cupped over them. I feel relieved he didn’t kill himself, but I’m shaken by the details.
“Had you talked to him much recently?” he asks.
“No.” My voice breaks. “We hadn’t spoken in years.”
“Ah, man. Well, you know, he always loved you,” he says.
I’m crying. “Thanks, Dougie.”
“No problem, honey. Take care, all right?”
“Thanks. You too. Bye.”