Page 52 of Dirty Diana
“What?” I say, laughing.
“Nico?” When he doesn’t answer, she goes out to the hallway and whisper-shouts from the top of the stairs. “Nico!”
She lies back down on the bed and I smack her with a pillow. “When he comes in, ask him to tell you.”
“I’mnotasking him.”
Nico appears in the doorway in his short-sleeved shirt and tie. He doesn’t look even the tiniest bit annoyed that he’s been summoned by his stoned wife and her friend.
“Tell Diana about how your saggy balls wouldn’t fit in the cock ring we bought.”
Nico looks at me like he’s about to describe the weather. “Diana, it didn’t make any sense. I mean, it fit on my”—he briefly glances over his shoulder, then back at me—“myshaft…”
Nico’s expression is so earnest that it makes us laugh harder. He shakes his head, recalling his bewilderment. “I don’t get it. Whose balls fit in that thing?” Then he leans over and kisses his wife on the forehead. “I gotta get back downstairs. Barry’s sister is feeding Elvis insane amounts of chocolate babka.”
When he leaves, Alicia flips through the worn-out book of my old paintings. She traces her fingers along the cover, then places it on the nightstand. She smiles. “Never stop making stuff, whatever it is—that’s what he’d say, right?”
Thinking of Barry opens an ache in my chest. I stare up at his ceiling fan and hold the mushroom-headed figurine high above me. Iclose one eye, and then the other, so that Mini Barry does a kind of jig, suspended in midair.
“Silent Rod!” I sit up, excited. Alicia furrows her brow and I quickly explain. “That tall, quiet guy who walked in late to the services.Rod,the botanist-bartender. He was there today! Remember he studied flowers and…” I wave my arm. “It doesn’t matter.” Just knowing he was here today makes me happy. I look at Barry’s shelf of flower-hatted figurines and smile, feeling suddenly closer to him and to what he was making and thinking. And then, annoyingly, I start to cry. Maybe it’s because I’m stoned, but I’m smiling and weeping and I don’t want to be. Alicia grabs my hand, which only makes me cry harder. I feel like a kid, suddenly alone and turned around at an amusement park, her family evaporated into a sea of strangers. My shoulders shake and I sob.
Alicia wraps a steady arm around me until I catch my breath. When I do, she hands me a tissue. I blow my nose then roll my eyes at myself. “Alicia, am I having a nervous breakdown in Barry’s room?”
My best friend squeezes my hand and shrugs. “Seems like a healthy place to do it?” She grabs another tissue and gently wipes the mascara from my face. Then she stands and pulls off my shoes.
“Alicia—”
“No one will care. Get under.”
She kicks off her own shoes and crawls beneath Barry’s quilt with me, pulling it over both our heads. We turn our bodies toward each other, our faces so close they nearly touch.
The closed-in space feels like a confessional and in the quiet I say, “I’m really lost.”
“I know.”
My marriage is at sea. My desire for my husband has vanished. I want to make art, to produce something beautiful that helps people connect to one another, maybe. But instead I work in an office, helping people move their wealth around in an endless loop. I was on a path, I thought, and then it, too, disappeared. I don’t need to say anyof this out loud. Beside me, Alicia stays still, keeping her eyes open so that I can close mine.
—
When Alicia comes back to wake me, the sun has already set. Barry’s house has nearly emptied of guests; only a few stragglers remain, saying goodbye on the front porch. Alicia, Nico, and I put away the food and finish up the dishes while Elvis naps on Nancy’s chest. When the house is tidy, we hug Nancy goodbye. Back at Alicia’s, Elvis shows us how he swims in the bath and washes his own hair. The grown-ups applaud, and Alicia beams with pride. I never thought that I’d feel unsettled in comparison with Alicia and her restlessness. But that’s how I feel right now, like I’m champing at a bit that she doesn’t even feel in her mouth.
While Alicia and Nico tuck Elvis in, I wonder if I’ll be able to sleep after such a long nap, but as soon as I lie down, I drift into a deep, dreamless sleep.
—
On the way to the airport the next morning, I double-check I have everything—wallet, phone, tiny mushroom-hatted Barry figurine. At the curb, I hug Alicia hard, like I don’t know you’re supposed to hold back.
I feel lighter at thirty-five thousand feet. My flight is nearly empty and in the hum of white noise, I begin to form a plan. I’ll keep making stuff, even if I’m not sure yet what it is. And in the making, I’ll find what’s been lost. When I close my eyes, I can almost see lines of text and new paintings, like scrying stones for my own desire. I begin to imagine recording new interviews, each one a little like Barry’s figurines, with its own story to tell. I’ll try harder with Oliver and fight for what I know is there. If it’s sinking, I’ll pull it to the surface.
Dallas,
Texas
—
Now
Chapter 16
