Hyde and Seek Hyde un meklēt

“Bye– Wait.” "Bye-uzgaidiet."

My finger hangs above the END CALL button. Pirkstu karājas virs END CALL pogu.

“Can you wear something kind of normal for the cocktail party?” asks The Boy. "Vai tu valkāt kaut veida normāls kokteilis persona?" Jautā Boy.

“You mean a Beyonce-grade, sequined flapper frock cut up to my crotch, with leopard platforms?” "Tu domā Beyonce kvalitātes, sequined iedzirknis kleita samazināt līdz mana kājstarpe ar leopards platformām?"

“The guests will be 80 years old. "Viesi būs 80 gadus vecs. You'll send them to their death if you come in your Betty Boop shit.” Jūs tos nosūta viņu nāves, ja jums nāk jūsu Betty Boop sūdi ".

“Have faith, friend. "Vai ticība, draugs. I'll look lovely. Es izskatīties jauki. I have to go now and put on my face.” Man ir jāiet tagad un likts uz manu seju. "

“All that eye shadow?” "Viss, acu ēnu?"

“Tah, tah.” I hang up on The Boy, and carefully create my face: I pat on porcelain powder, I super-size my eyes with charcoal shadow, I smudge beams of bright on the bone of my cheeks. "Tah, Tah." Man piekārt par Boy un rūpīgi izveidot savu seju: "Es pat no porcelāna pulveris, man super-size manas acis ar ogli ēna, es apdūmot stariem spilgti par kaulu no maniem vaigiem. Then I blend all my makeup together so my paint-by-features face softens into play of light and shadow. Tad es maisījums visas manas aplauzums kopā, lai manu paint-by-features sejas mīkstina vērā pašreizējo situāciju attiecībā uz gaismas un ēnas. I smooth down my bobbed hair, I spritz on a shower of Juicy Couture perfume, I– Es gluda nosaka manu bobbed matus, es Spritz uz dušu un Juicy Couture smaržu, I -

Am amazed I can do this in less than an hour. Esmu pārsteigts es varu darīt mazāk nekā stundu. Finally I step into wedding-white mary janes, I slip on a cotton and crinkled chiffon frock that's a cloud of vanilla, the flavor of the lives of guests at the party The Boy invited me to. Beidzot es solis kāzu balts Mary Janes, es paslīdēt uz kokvilnu un krokots šifons kleita, ka ir mākoņa vaniļas, ar viesu dzīvības smarža uz pusi Boy ielūdza mani.

It was his dressy-casual, SoCal social scene debut in expensive suburbia on the coast, a mini village of McMansions owned by the retired or near retired, and The Boy's inviting me to his new neighborhood mixer came with his request I lighten my use of mascara and the word “fuck.” “Hmm. Tā bija viņa gaumīgs-nejaušība, SoCal sociālo skatuves debija dārgs suburbia par krastā, mini ciemats McMansions pieder pensionāriem vai tuvu pensijā, un Zēnu uzaicināt mani uz savu jauno kaimiņu maisītājs nāca ar viņa lūgumu es atvieglot manu izmantošana skropstu tuša un vārdu "fuck." "Hmm. I can do social scripting,” I reassured The Boy. Es varu darīt sociālo skriptu "Es pārliecināja Boy. “I'm rusty on that 'And how do you do' bull shit, but I can handle it. "Es esmu ierūsējis par šo" Un kā jūs to do "bull shit, bet es varu ar to rīkoties. You mostly see my Hyde, but I can play Dr. Jekyll, too. Tu galvenokārt redzēt manu Hyde, bet es varu spēlēt Dr Jekyll, too. All Prozac pretty smiles and cliche conversation.” Visi Prozac diezgan smaidu un klišeja saruna. "

“Perfect,” he said. "Perfect," viņš teica.

I think of The Boy's polite desire to please his neighbors as I park in front of his home of walk-in closets and bathrooms bigger than the shoe box I live in, his palace purchased with a career of “Fuck you”s and fearlessness in the financial world. Es domāju par Zēnu pieklājīgs vēlēšanos izpatikt saviem kaimiņiem, kā es parkā pie sava mājas staigāt skapjiem un vannas lielāks par kurpju kastē es dzīvoju, viņa pils pirkta ar karjeras "Fuck you" s un bezbailība in finanšu pasaulē.

“You look beautiful!” The Boy's compliment floats on a sigh of relief, as he climbs the marble steps to his home's entry gate. "Tu izskaties skaisti!" Boy's kompliments pludiņus nopūta atvieglojumu, jo viņš climbs marmora pasākumus, lai savā mītnes pievienošanos vārtiem. He purses his lips through the twisted iron bars. Viņš maki lūpām ar savīti dzelzs stieņiem. “Kiss me, like we're in prison.” "Kiss me, kā mēs esam cietumā."

“I told you I could look like a lady, motherfucker.” And then my lips go PG with a perky peck on his pout, and he swings through the gate and takes my hand as we walk to the party. "Es tev teicu, es varētu izskatīties lady, motherfucker." Un tad manas lūpas iet PG ar iecirtīgs knābiens viņa mencas, un viņš šūpoles pa vārtiem un ņem manu roku, kā mēs gājienā līdz pusei.

Every introduction is an echo of itself: “This is my girlfriend, Kristopher.” Katru ieviešana atstarojas pati: "Tā ir mana draudzene, Kristopher."

“Oh, so nice to meet you,” gasps someone two, three times older than me. "Oh, so nice to meet you," gasps kāds divas, trīs reizes vecāki par mani. “I didn't quite catch your name.” "Es neesmu gluži nozvejas savu vārdu."

“Kristopher,” I repeat again, smiling. "Kristopher," es atkārtoju vēlreiz, smiling. “Kristopher. "Kristopher. No, not Christina. Nē, Christina. Kristopher.” Finally a dino dude demands explanation. Kristopher. "Visbeidzot Dino frants prasa paskaidrojumu. “My dad says he named me after an actress he saw in an art flick, and my older brother, four years old when my mom was pregnant, says he insisted I was named Christopher after his chubby BFF in preschool. "Mans tētis saka, ka viņš nosauca mani pēc tam, kad aktrise viņš redzēja mākslu uzsitiens, un mans vecākais brālis četrus gadus vecs, kad mana mamma bija stāvoklī, saka, ka viņš uzstāja, ka man tika nosaukta Christopher pēc viņa apaļš BFF in pirmsskolas. Who knows which story is true.” Kas zina, kuras stāsts ir patiess. "

“Oh, yes, I see,” says the guest. "Ak, jā, es saprotu," saka viesis.

“My dad's a musician.” I shrug. "Mans tētis ir mūziķis." Man plecu paraustīšana.

“Ohhh.” "Ohhh".

We move on to the meal, migrating from a patio open to a postcard view of the Pacific ocean to a circular table in which nice stories wind 'round. Mēs pāriet uz maltīti, migrē no terašu atvērts pastkarti Ņemot vērā Klusā okeāna līdz apļveida tabulu, kurā jauku stāstu vējš "kārtā. “So I call the police when I realize my Porsche's been stolen, and the woman says, 'Let me tell you. "Tāpēc es aicinu policiju, kad es apzinos savu Porsche nozagts, un sieviete saka:" Ļaujiet man pastāstīt jums. There are three types of Porsches.' Ir trīs veidu Porsches. " So I'm thinking this woman is a real Porsche aficionado, she's going to tell me the history of the 911, the 944…” The Boy smiles a pause. Tāpēc es domāju šai sievietei ir īsta Porsche Aficionado, viņa gatavojas man vēsture 911, 944 ... "Zēns pasmaida pauze. “And she says, 'There's a Porsche that's been stolen, there's a Porsche that's gonna be stolen, and there's a Porsche that's getting stolen right now while we're talking!'” "Un viņa saka," Te Porsche, kas ir nozagtas, tur ir Porsche that's gonna ir nozagts, un tur ir Porsche, ka ir arvien nozagts tieši tagad, kamēr mēs runājam! "

The table laughs on cue, perfectly pitched at polite party level. Tabula smejas par cue, pilnīgi toņu at pieklājīgs puses līmenī. “You know, it is so true,” says a little 60-something-year-old girl. "Tu zini, tā ir taisnība," saka maz 60-something gadus veca meitene. “My friend had a Porsche and every time he bought one it was stolen!” She says “Porsche” like the hundred-grand car was a 100 Grand candy bar. "Mans draugs bija Porsche, un katru reizi viņš nopircis to nozaga!" Viņa saka, ka "Porsche" kā simts grand auto bija 100 Grand candy bar.

Minutes melt into the creamy dessert that's served, and as I barely taste my beige cake, in the reflection of the smooth English tea I've traded for my usual bitter espresso I see a lifetime half-lived, fueled by fear of offending people. Minūšu saplūda ar krēmveida deserts tas kalpoja, un kā es tikko garšas manu smilškrāsas kūka, kas atspoguļo vienmērīgu angļu tējas Esmu tirgot manu parasti bitter espresso redzu dzīves pusi dzīvoja, kas darbojas ar dabas bailes no pārkāpēja cilvēkiem. But I'm all gracious giggles and serious silence and– Bet es esmu visu žēlīgs Giggles un nopietnu klusums un -

Boredom, that's apparently matched by The Boy's. Garlaicība, tas acīmredzot saskaņota ar Boy's. “I can't take this any more,” he leans over and whispers, while our table's distracted welcoming a late comer. "Es nevaru pieņemt šo vairāk," viņš nosliecas vairāk un čukst, kamēr mūsu tabulas apmulsis sveikt vēlu atnācējs. He looks up. Viņš paskatās. “That's the dick that never returned my call.” The Boy becomes as loud as the new guest's yellow and red sweater that clashes against his gray hair: “So good to see you, Trevor. "Tas ir penis ka nekad atpakaļ manu aicinājumu." Boy kļūst par skaļu, jo jaunā viesa dzeltenais un sarkanais džemperis, ka sadursmes pret viņa pelēko matu: "Tad labi jūs redzēt, Trevor. Thanks for not returning my call. Paldies par neatgriežas manu aicinājumu. Though apparently it made me miss out on a summer of thirteen-year-old boy fashion. Taču acīmredzot tas, kas mani palaiž garām iespēju vasarā trīspadsmit gadus vecs zēns modes. That shrunken sweater and long T-shirt combo–very hip.” Ka sarukušais svīteris un sen krekls Combo-ļoti gūžas.

I laugh at Trevor's blank face, his domestic deadpan, my first serious giggle of the the evening, and whisper to The Boy, “Your Hyde is coming out.” Man smieties Trevor ir tukšas sejas, viņa mājas deadpan, mana pirmā nopietnā ķiķināšana un vakarā, un čuksti Boy "," Jūsu Hyde nāk out. "

He whispers back. Viņš čukst atpakaļ. “I can only do the polite thing for so long before I'm so bored I can't give a fuck anymore.” "Es varu darīt tikai pieklājīgs lieta tik ilgi, pirms es esmu tik garlaicīgi, es nevaru sniegt fuck vairs."

“Life is short,” I reply, and I tug down the waist of my dress, so the neckline is no longer a suffocating, Sunday's best high. "Dzīve ir īsa," es atbildu, un es raut nosaka vidukļa mana kleita, lai izgriezums vairs suffocating, svētdiena vislabāk augsts. “Ready to go?” "Gatava iet?"

The Boy gets up in answer, and we move around the room, shaking hands, exchanging “Nice to meet you”s, till we make it to the hosts, a matured, Middle Eastern couple. Boy pieceļas atbildot, un mēs pārvietoties telpā, kratot roku, apmainoties ar "Nice to meet you" s, līdz mēs to saimniekiem, nogatavina, Tuvo Austrumu pāris.

“The party was wonderful,” says The Boy. "Puse bija lieliska," saka Boy. “Thanks for having us. "Paldies, ka tā mums. You'll have to come over for dinner next week.” Jums būs jānāk over for dinner nākamajā nedēļā. "

“We'd love to, but we're vacationing,” she says, her wrinkles a little darker with the thought. "Mēs ar prieku, bet mēs esam vacationing," viņa saka, viņas grumbu nedaudz tumšāks ar domu. “After that?” "Pēc tam?"

“Sure, but while you're gone I'm going to bulldoze your house so I'll have a better view of the beach.” "Protams, bet, kamēr jūs esat prom Es gatavojas šantažēt savu māju, tāpēc es ņemšu labāku uzskata pludmali."

They laugh, nervous. Viņi smejas, nervu. “Well, have a safe drive home,” says the hostess, dry hand brushing my shoulder. "Nu, ir droši vadīt mājās," saka saimniece, sausa roku suku manu plecu.

“You think I'm not having her spend the night?” The Boy looks at them like they're crazy. "Tu domā, ka es neesmu, kam viņas pavada nakti?" Boy izskatās pēc viņiem kā viņi crazy.

“Did you think we were married or something?” I chime in, and my image as a darling doll is cracked. "Vai jūs domājat, mēs esam precējušies vai kaut kas?" Es piebalsot, un mana attēlu kā mīļš lelle ir ieplaisājusi. The Boy takes my hand and we exit. Boy ņem manu roku, un mēs izietu.

“So did I behave too bad?” asks The Boy, as we walk back to his home. "Tad gan es uzvesties pārāk slikti?" Aicina Boy, kā mums iet atpakaļ uz mājām.

“I think you don't give a fuck, Mr. Hyde.” "Es domāju, ka jums nedod fuck, Mr Hyde".

As reply, he pulls me against him and tongues me deep as we stand in the middle of the street. Kā atbildi, viņš atvelk man pret viņu un mēles man dziļi, kā mēs kandidēt vidū ielas.

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