The Lonely Hearts Hotel(56)
Well, she was an orphan after all, wasn’t she? McMahon thought. Sometimes he almost forgot. She put on so many airs, and she always did her best to impersonate what upper-class people with money acted like. Sometimes she actually had him fooled. But her admiration of this drawing reassured him on so many levels. She was a silly piece of trash that he kept for his own entertainment. She was so beneath him. He could treat her however he wanted.
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AFTER MCMAHON LEFT, Rose had an urge to be out in the snow in her big coat and her fur hat and her four layers of stockings. She felt as though she had been swallowed whole by a hibernating bear. She lay in the snow just like she had when she was abandoned in the park at two days old. It had been the snow that had first comforted her. It had taken her in its big fat loving arms and it had whispered into her ears that she should just sleep, sleep, sleep and that everything would be okay. It was the only thing that had ever mothered her. There were piles of snow on the heads of the stone angels, making them look like they had on the same fur hat as Rose. Getting up from out of the snow, she made up her mind.
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WHEN SHE STEPPED OUT of the Darling Hotel with her suitcase on Christmas night, she was surprised to see that the world had completely changed. She climbed onto the crowded trolley. There weren’t any seats free, so she grabbed on to the pole. All the different mittens one on top of one another made it look like a totem pole. On the trolley, everyone’s face seemed to have so much emotion. She could read everyone. She understood that everyone was living a great tragedy. Her tragedy had taught her the language of tragedy—and made her able to read that of other people. In that way, she supposed it was a sort of blessing.
28
IN WHICH A GIRL IN CHEAP STOCKINGS SINGS THE BLUES
Poppy was standing in front of the window. She wore a yellow dress with golden stains in the armpits and a skinny white belt around the waist. The dress made her ass look so perfect. Pierrot was looking at her with something almost close to lust. She immediately went over to the bed. She knelt at the foot of the bed with both her breasts in her hands and her mouth puckered.
He would be a criminal not to have sex with her. If he could make this openhearted messed-up girl happy, shouldn’t he take the opportunity? He propped his head up on the pillow and began to masturbate his penis with one hand until it was hard. He closed his eyes for a second and imagined all the pretty girls he had ever made love to. He imagined Rose lifting up her gray orphanage dress, showing him her underwear and smiling. He opened his eyes and gestured for Poppy to come to him.
She hurriedly climbed over and on top of him. She lowered herself on his enormous penis. It was larger than the penis of any man she had ever slept with, and she had slept with a lot of men.
The condom broke. Condoms almost always broke when Pierrot wore them. So he ejaculated inside her. She felt so warm and peaceful. Everything in the world was okay. Poppy’s special gift was her ability to see the world in a grain of sand: to be happy with the small things. But is it a blessing to be satisfied with so little? Or is it a curse?
The condom lay on the floor, as if a snake had just shed its skin.
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HE FELT GUILTY after sleeping with Poppy. The dissatisfaction reminded him that deep down, for some ridiculous reason, he only wanted to be sleeping with Rose. His longing for Rose became so overwhelming that it felt akin to paralysis. He lay on the bed, looking at the ceiling, picturing Rose. She was sitting on a bench in the hallway in the orphanage. She had her palms in front of her, pretending to read a book. She laughed heartily at the invisible words. She licked the tip of her fingers and turned the imaginary page. It was a stupendous performance. Even though she did not look up, Pierrot knew that the pantomime was for him.
Poppy, seeing Pierrot grinning stupidly, asked him what the hell he was thinking of.
Pierrot decided to tell Poppy about the girl he was infatuated with named Rose. It seemed ridiculous, but he thought that if he confessed his obsession, it might lose some of its power.
“Oh, I know Rose. She’s really sweet, right? She’s a lot of fun. Always dancing.”
“You know her? Is it the same girl? She’s our age? Black hair and very pale skin?”
“Yes, it’s the same one. She grew up at the same orphanage as you. You both have a similar manner, come to think of it. I can see that you grew up together. But that was a lifetime ago, buddy. You should be happy with what’s in front of you right now.”
“I know, I know. Does she have a whole lot of children?”
“No. That girl is footloose.”
“She doesn’t have children? But she’s married, though, right? Do you know her husband?”
“I’m beginning to think we might be talking about different Roses after all. She’s not married. She was a rich fellow’s mistress. Everybody knows her. She used to be at the Roxy every night.”
“If I go there, will I find her?”
Poppy was momentarily disconcerted, realizing that Pierrot wasn’t simply engaging in nostalgia, but was prepared to actually go look for this Rose.
“Who is this rich man she’s seeing?” Pierrot continued probing.
“You’ve never met him,” Poppy lied, determined not to give him any more clues. “And I said was. They split up. She left him. He completely lost his mind too.”