The Little One

She has lost something. What? She doesn’t know. She tries not to examine things too closely. She used to examine, but now she can’t, or she won’t—she says it doesn’t matter. She is a writer. She is independent. She lives alone in a new building. She takes classes and joins groups. She is very involved. But then, what she writes are things she doesn’t find interesting or worthwhile, her groups and classes are no fun and are filled with women who she thinks are petty and stupid, and she has not turned out to be as attractive as she thought she would be, and this particularly surprises her as she had always thought she would be the kind of woman who grows into her own, like men do. Her apartment is small and not very well made. Men who come over tap on the walls and check the cabinets and say that it’s a shame how shitty everything is now. They tell her it’s not like it used to be. There is this and other things that she hates about men, and so not very many of them make it into her life. She does have a boyfriend now, though, and he stays with her some nights, when she has the time. She likes him, but she also likes her mornings alone. In the morning is when she does nothing, and also on Saturdays. She isn’t sure how she got so busy. He is over now, in bed with her. With reluctance, she considers him. Would he like something to eat? Would he like coffee? What is he going to do today? She never used to be considerate like this before, but now she feels compelled. Why? She doesn’t know. He tells her he has no plans. He would happily spend the day with her, she knows, but she will not make this an option for him. Today she will spend walking through Uptown. She knows she will be disappointed with what is there. She is always disappointed with what is in Uptown and so she normally doesn’t bother, but it’s warm and early spring and she should go outside. She's been driving through Uptown all winter, and she keeps thinking there must be something there. Have they added something? She didn't know. Today she will know there is still nothing there. She will go and she will think, I should be able to find something here, but there is nothing here. What she will find is a book she has been wanting to read and a pair of shoes she isn’t sure if she can wear. This will be her afternoon, but what she tells him when he asks is that her day is busy and her evening is full. As she says this, she is fairly certain she will get lonely at some point and will want to see him. She tells him maybe tomorrow will work. But it will not have to wait for tomorrow. What will happen is she will buy her book and her pair of shoes and then she will cook dinner and this will make her sad and she will look around her empty apartment and she will call him and tell him to come over. He will be out with his friends, but he will say that he’ll try. She will hang up and be annoyed with herself for not having planned this out better. Why doesn’t she listen to herself? She doesn’t know. She will drink wine and watch TV until she cannot stand it, and then she will go to bed alone. She will look up in bed and think, I have lost something, haven’t I? He will call then and tell her he’s in a cab and on his way. She will say fine, though she’ll be certain he’s drunk and not up for sex or for company in any way. And he won’t be, and she won’t care. He will get in bed with her and they will fall asleep. In the morning, she will ask how his day was and he will say that it was fine. He will ask how her day was and she, too, will say it was fine. It was fine, she will say again. It was fine.