for Ces: "When There's Nothing Left to Burn..." (Twitch City) by pearl_o
Title: When There's Nothing Left to Burn, You Have to Set Yourself On Fire
Author: pearl_o
Fandom: Twitch City
Recipient: cesperanza
When There's Nothing Left to Burn, You Have to Set Yourself On Fire
Hope said, "How do I look?"
"Great," said Curtis.
"Curtis, you're not even looking."
Curtis looked away from the television and looked her up and down. "You look great." He turned his attention back to the show.
"It's just, I'm a little nervous, you know?" Hope smoothed the fabric of her bridesmaid's dress down her thighs worriedly. "I mean, all my friends are getting married now and having babies and now Sara's getting married and it's just going to be me left -- and I don't even have a date to the wedding, so I'm going to be stuck dancing with her brothers and cousins all night -- not that I blame you, Curtis, I don't expect you to go to weddings with me, I understand -- oh god, this dress is hideous, isn't it?" Hope stared down at the giant bow across her bodice.
"I think you look great," Curtis repeated.
"It's seafoam green, Curtis. Nobody looks good in seafoam green. And I have enough make-up on to stop a truck."
Curtis glanced at her for a second. "Yeah, but it makes your ass look good, though."
"Really?" said Hope. She twisted her head, trying to get a good look over her shoulder.
"Oh, yeah," Curtis said. "Really great. If Rex Reilly wasn't coming on in five minutes--" Curtis blew out a long breath, shaking his head. "Whoa, boy."
Hope beamed. "Thank you, Curtis." She crossed the room and kissed his forehead. "I left phone numbers on the fridge, and there's food inside that should last you till I get back. If you need anything you can call Newbie or my dad or the church. Have fun."
"Uh-huh," said Curtis, his attention back to the dancing animals on the television screen. Hope was halfway out the door when he called after her. "Hey, can you throw the Frooty-O's in here?"
"Curtis, I'm going to be late--" Hope said, halfway out the door.
"Fine," said Curtis, "no need to get all huffy and irrational about it, Hope. I'll get the things myself. Just go."
Hope sighed and marched down the stairs in her dyed heels.
Sara's husband's brother James returned to their table at the reception with two glasses of champagne. Hope restrained herself from downing hers all in one gulp.
"Thank you."
"No problem." He smiled at her widely -- he had what seemed like an abnormally large amount of teeth -- and sat down next to her, awfully close. "So, Hope. What do you do?"
Oh, wonderful; time for 20 Questions. "Oh, I, uh, right now I'm working in a pet supply shop part time? We sell, um, food and treats and toys and clothes and things."
James nodded at her like that was actually fascinating. Hope took a sip of her drink and and felt the bubbles tickle her throat. "And you? What do you do?"
"I'm a pediatric oncologist."
"Oh," said Hope.
"I work with babies with cancer," James explained seriously.
Hope gave him a tight, close-lipped smile and didn't say I know what pediatric oncology is, jerkwad. "How interesting," she said instead.
James scooted his chair in a little closer. "So, I hear you live in the city?"
Under the table, he set his hand down firmly on Hope's knee, and Hope jerked.
"Ah -- yes, my boyfriend and I have a really nice apartment in Kensington Market," Hope said quickly. James raised his eyebrow and Hope said, "He, um, he couldn't make it today."
The hand let go of her leg, and James leaned back slightly in his chair. "I see," he said. "And what does he do?"
Hope had been dating Curtis for more than a year now. You would think that was plenty of time to figure out a decent answer to that question. "He's ... in between jobs right now," Hope said weakly, trying not to let the sentence turn into a question.
"Mmm-hmm," James said.
Hope took a long sip of champagne.
Curtis was asleep on the couch when she got home. The TV was blaring still, playing some infomercial about vacuum-sealing your food. Curtis was still wearing the clothes he'd had on when she left in the morning, jeans he'd been wearing for three days and an ugly yellow t-shirt that Hope had accidentally shrunk in the hot water last time she did laundry. His mouth was half-open and one cheek was smashed down into the couch cushion.
He looked kind of ... sweet.
Hope stood in the living room for a minute, frowning and watching him, trying to decide whether she should bother turning off the TV, or maybe at least throw a blanket over him or something.
She decided he probably wouldn't thank her anyway, though, so instead of doing either she just kicked off her ugly uncomfortable shoes and went to her room. She was too tired to even take care of the dress, so she just left it crumpled in a pile on the floor while she put on her nightshirt and crawled into her bed to collapse.
Hope woke up with all of the covers kicked to the end of the bed and Curtis pressed up all along her backside. It was hot, uncomfortably so -- it felt like her hair was sweating -- and she squirmed a little away from Curtis's warmth. It wasn't that she didn't appreciate him, didn't appreciate the thought -- she thought it was nice and all, and she loved him, but -- she turned onto her back and pushed Curtis's hand off her stomach.
Curtis stirred a little next to her and said foggily, "What are you doing?"
"Go back to sleep," Hope said. She started to sit up to get out of bed, but Curtis grabbed her arm suddenly, and pulled her back down with him without opening his eyes. He rolled halfway over to her and started kissing and nibbling her neck.
Hope stared up at the ceiling. "Curtis, it's -- I'm not in the mood."
"Oh?" Curtis said against her skin. "Are you sure? Because it's no problem for me or anything." He had slipped his hand up underneath her nightshirt, all the way up her legs, till his thumb was making slow circles on her inner thighs, just below her panties.
"Curtis--" Hope said helplessly.
"Yeah, Hope?" Curtis said. He raised his head and looked at her. His hair was messy from sleep, his eyes were dark, he was half-smiling -- god, Hope had no idea why she was so attracted to Curtis, but it didn't change the fact that she was. It was just all so infuriating sometimes.
Hope twisted out from underneath Curtis and got up from the bed. She raised her nightshirt over her head and dropped it on the floor, on top of the dress from last night, and then slipped her panties off, too. Curtis was still sitting on the bed, watching her eagerly. Hope crawled back onto the bed, pushing Curtis down onto his back, and climbed on top to straddle him.
Hope closed her eyes and took a deep breath before she gazed down at Curtis; he was grinning back up at her.
"You going to sock it to me?"
"You bet I am," Hope said, and she leaned down to kiss him.
Hope rang up the last of the items and said, "That'll be twelve sixty-five."
The old lady peered at her suspiciously. "The sign says fifty percent off."
"Um, yes," said Hope.
"You charged me full price for that cat collar," said the old lady. She was glaring now, full out, and Hope felt her smile crumble a little bit.
"Yeah, the half-off sale is for, um, the items with green tags only," Hope said. "See, you got the ball with the bells on sale? But the collar has a red tag, so it's full price."
"How do you live with yourself?" The old woman's voice wavered as she raised her voice louder and louder. "Cheating a poor old woman? I'm on a fixed income, missy!"
Other people in the store were looking over at them now; Hope tried to keep herself from wincing. "Honestly, I'm not cheating you--"
"I want to speak with your manager," the old woman said coldly.
"I don't think that's--"
"Now."
Hope swallowed back the words in her throat and smiled. "All right, ma'am."
Her brother had picked out the restaurant for dinner; it made Hope want to scream. Just the decor was bad enough -- it was dark and stodgy and reminded her of some sort of evil Victorian men's club. The food wasn't any better, either. Dad and Brian might be grunting in pleasure of their steaks, but Hope's pasta tasted like buttery glue.
Hope picked and poked at her plate slowly.
"Well, Hope," Dad said, putting down his fork. "How are things at the pizzeria?"
Hope had to look up from her dinner to answer where he could see her lips. "I'm not working there anymore."
Dad frowned. "What happened?"
"It didn't work out. I'm working at a pet supply shop now."
"I thought you didn't like dogs," Brian said, giving her a curious look.
"I like dogs fine," said Hope.
"Hmm," Dad said. "Well, how's Curtis?"
Hope tried to smile. "Oh, well, you know Curtis. Same as always."
"Speaking of Curtis," Brian said, in a voice so hearty it made Hope want to stab him with her fork, "how come you didn't drag him along tonight?"
Hope's sister-in-law Chelsea leaned over the table and said in her tiny whispery voice, "He's certainly welcome! We'd love to get a chance to meet him."
"My treat," Brian added, grinning.
"Curtis doesn't leave the house," Hope said wearily.
"What, at all?" Brian looked surprised. "I thought you were exaggerating."
Hope looked back down at her plate. Her dad said, "Curtis isn't a man of action like you, Brian. Curtis is a philosopher." He sounded proud.
"Uh-huh." Her brother sounded less impressed.
"So what's going on with you two?" Hope said. She was trying to sound cheerful but it might have just been kind of desperate.
Chelsea beamed. "We have such exciting news!"
"Actually," Brian said, puffing up, "we asked you two out for dinner so we could tell you in person."
"What's that?" Dad said.
Chelsea wrapped her arm around Brian's and squeezed. "We're going to have a baby!" she squealed.
Hope raised her eyebrows.
"Wow," she said flatly. "That's great."
When she got home Curtis was watching something on the international channel. Hope went straight to the kitchen. She filled up Lucky's food dish, loaded the dishwasher, and wiped up the milk Curtis had spilled on the counter while she was out.
The last beer was still in the fridge where she'd hidden it behind the orange juice. She sat down at the table and drank slowly while she stared out the window. When she was done she rinsed out the bottle and put it in a paper bag under the sink.
She walked back down the hall to the living room. Curtis's position hadn't changed an inch.
Hope walked over to the couch and lay down, scooting until her feet were hanging over the edge and her head was resting in Curtis's lap. She took Curtis's hand and set it down against her collarbone. Curtis didn't object to her moving him around -- it was like playing with a ragdoll, almost.
"Hi," Hope whispered.
"Hey, Hope," Curtis said distractedly.
"Whatcha watching?"
"Um, it's called El Corazon del Fuego?" Curtis said, glancing down at her. "It's a telenovela. A Latin American soap opera," he explained.
"That sounds nice," said Hope.
Curtis was done talking; he was watching the show again, and Hope watched him. After a while Lucky jumped up to join them and lie on Hope's stomach, and sometime after that Hope fell asleep.
"Curtis," Hope yelled as she walked down the hall to the bathroom. "When are you going to rent the room out again?"
Curtis's voice was muffled from inside his room as he answered. "I thought we were waiting for that weird smell to go away?"
Hope kneeled down and peered under the bathtub -- there were her favorite earrings. She lay flat and stretched her arm out as far as she could. "The smell's fine, Curtis. Can you just, please, do something with it?" Her fist closed around the earrings; Hope let out a deep breath as she pulled them out and stood back up.
"Uh, okay," Curtis called.
Hope shoved the earrings into place and walked to the mirror. Her hair looked shitty, but she was already going to be late for work, there was no time to fix it, so she just ran the faucet and patted the worst parts down with water. "Okay?"
"Yeah, I'll take care of it today!" Curtis sounded far enough away that he could have been across the country.
"Thank you!" Hope yelled back, and she slammed the bathroom door shut.
During her lunch break, Hope got bitten by a German shepherd three feet away from the shop's front door.
"It's not even -- it's not even like I want kids, I don't. It's just that sometimes it feels like everybody else's life is moving forward and meanwhile, I'm still right here."
"Uh-huh," said Newbie. He was leaning forward, resting his elbows on the counter, looking at her with an expression she thought might be trying for calm and soothing. Hope wasn't sure when Newbie had become her surrogate psychiatrist, but he was easy to talk to.
Hope bit her lips. "I don't know what I want, but I know I want something. And I, I don't think Curtis does. Curtis is perfectly satisfied with how things are. I don't think he even has goals."
"Oh, Curtis has goals," Newbie said, straightening up so suddenly it took her off guard, and she stepped back a step from the counter. "Curtis has plenty of goals, he just aims low. I admire Curtis for that."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean," said Newbie, "Curtis doesn't need any more goals, because he's figured out everything he wants already. Look at him. Food, place to live, TV all day, hot girlfriend--" Here, he gestured to Hope almost shyly. "Curtis's got everything he needs. Any more goals would just be redundant at this point."
Hope hesitated for a long moment. "But ... that's stupid," she said finally.
"Yeah, well." Newbie shot her a quick grin. "That's the way it is. I think we could all learn from Curtis, actually. If you like what you have, you're always happy."
There was a flaw in that logic. "But Curtis doesn't seem that happy," Hope pointed out.
Newbie just shrugged. "What are you comparing him with?"
Hope opened her mouth, and then closed it again. "I don't know."
The new roommate was about the size around as one of Hope's thighs. Hope only saw her in the hallway for a split second before she scuttled back to her room, but that was long enough for Hope to decide she reminded her of a scared gerbil. Hope blinked after her for a few seconds. Apparently she had put up a shiny glittery sign on the door -- it said "Ming-Juan" in sparkly pen and had lots of small cute cartoon animals drawn on it.
Hope wandered into the living room and sat down in the chair near the window. Curtis was watching an episode of Rex Reilly that she had seen at least three times before. Curtis had probably seen it at least ten.
"Curtis, do you ever think about kids?" Hope said. She curled her hand tightly around the hem of her blouse and gazed over at him.
"Uh, think what about them?" Curtis didn't look over at her when he talked, just straight back at the TV.
"About having them. Not now, I mean," Hope rushed to clarify, "but, you know. Someday. In the future."
"Oh," said Curtis. "No."
"No? Just no?"
"No, I don't think about having kids."
"No," Hope repeated.
"Um, are we still speaking English?" Curtis said -- and it was weird, but just making him finally look at her sent a really mean thrill of victory down her stomach.
"What do you think about the future, Curtis?" Hope folded her arms tightly across her chest.
"Uh, I don't know," Curtis said, looking at her like she was insane. "Is this like some kind of test?"
Curtis sounded some strange combination of bored and annoyed. It made Hope want to smack him.
"Do you think about it at all?" She could hear her voice raising, but she didn't care. "Do you think about anything? Are you happy like this? Nothing ever changes here, Curtis! Everyone I know is living their lives right now, and what are we doing? People are getting married, and having kids, and having real jobs, and, hell, I don't know, going out on dates, going dancing or restaurants or just the movies! Is this -- are we just going to be like this forever?"
Hope paused to suck in a breath; Curtis was staring at her like she was some new and particularly bizarre species of insect. He seemed to have totally forgotten about the existence of "Mommy and Me Alcoholics" in the background.
"You're mad because I haven't proposed to you?" Curtis said, his forehead furrowing.
For a couple of seconds, Hope was completely dumbfounded.
Curtis continued, "Is that why you're throwing a hissyfit? You want to get married?"
"That's what you got out of this argument?" Hope said.
"I mean, I think it's stupid," Curtis said, "but if you want to get married, we could do that. I don't care."
"Curtis, what are you talking about? You--" Hope flailed a little, trying to figure out where to start with the stupidity of that. "You don't even leave the property," she said finally.
"I don't leave it often," Curtis said, and Hope rolled her eyes.
"Whatever, I'm -- I'm going to bed," Hope said. She got out of the chair and halfway across the room before Curtis called down her name. When she turned around, Curtis was off the couch and walking toward her.
He stopped in front of her and looked down into her face. "You're really not happy?"
Hope hesitated. "I'm not not happy."
"Huh," said Curtis thoughtfully.
"I just -- there should be more than this, Curtis."
"What more is there?" Curtis said. He wrapped his arms around her, and Hope leaned into him instead of pulling away, and rested her head on his shoulder.
"I don't know," Hope said. She felt tired, and confused, and something she didn't even know. "Maybe there isn't. Shouldn't there be?"
Curtis's hands drifted down until they were cupping Hope's butt. "Look, if you want a kid, we can have a kid. If you want to get married, I could do it. If you want to get rid of Lucky or have a threeway or, I don't know, start a cult, whatever, I don't care, all right?"
Hope turned her face against Curtis's t-shirt and said, "What if I asked you to give up TV?"
Curtis went stiff against her. After a moment he said, "I don't really think that's a very funny joke, Hope."
Hope couldn't help giggling against his chest, and once she started, she couldn't stop, not even when she was out of breath and almost crying from it.
"Hope?" Curtis said uncertainly. "Hope, are you okay? Hope? Come on, sit down." He pulled her across the room and sat her down on the couch. "Rex Reilly will make you feel better," he said, and he sat down next to her again, and Hope giggled to herself all the while as Curtis returned to watch the ten-year-old alcoholics baring their souls to a live television audience.
Hope woke up in Curtis's bed, half-smushed against the wall. Curtis was still sleeping, sprawled out on his back and snoring faintly. Hope lay still, staring at the ceiling thoughtfully for a few minutes, and then she kissed Curtis gently on the forehead and climbed off the mattress.
She went into the kitchen and phoned her work. "I can't come in today. I think the bite from yesterday got infected or something. Sorry," she said, and hung up.
Hope whistled all the way down the hall to the bathroom. Her favorite cucumber melon bubble bath was jammed into the overflowing medicine cabinet. There was probably enough for two or three more baths if she scrimped and saved with the rest of it.
"What the hell," Hope said out loud, and she dumped the rest of the bottle under the faucet.
The water was hot enough that she had to lower herself down inch by inch; when she finally got all the way in and rested her head back against the tub, bubbles sloshed out the sides. Hope soaked until her fingers all got pruny.
She combed her hair out and put on her bathrobe and wandered down the hall to the kitchen. Curtis was eating cereal.
"Morning," said Hope.
"Mmmfflee," said Curtis.
Hope opened the fridge and all the cabinets. She was in the mood for cookies. "Curtis," Hope said idly, "are you happy?"
"Uh, yeah," Curtis said. He squeezed past her to stick the milk back in the fridge. "Duh."
Hope grinned to herself as Curtis left the room. They were out of flour, she noticed; she could run down to the store and pick some up, and maybe some chocolate chips and nuts. Yummy.
She went to her room and put on her favorite sexy black underwear and her yellow flowered t-shirt and her paint-splattered overalls and a pair of flip-flops. Her shoes and bridesmaid's dress were still on the floor from Saturday night, and she picked them up, too.
"I'm going out, Curtis," she called, and didn't wait for an acknowledgment from the living room.
Out in the street, she stopped and picked the lid of the trashcan, and then let the heels and dress fall in with a flourish. She stood there in front of the can for a minute, hands on her hips, and then she starting walking down the block, still smiling to herself.
Author: pearl_o
Fandom: Twitch City
Recipient: cesperanza
When There's Nothing Left to Burn, You Have to Set Yourself On Fire
Hope said, "How do I look?"
"Great," said Curtis.
"Curtis, you're not even looking."
Curtis looked away from the television and looked her up and down. "You look great." He turned his attention back to the show.
"It's just, I'm a little nervous, you know?" Hope smoothed the fabric of her bridesmaid's dress down her thighs worriedly. "I mean, all my friends are getting married now and having babies and now Sara's getting married and it's just going to be me left -- and I don't even have a date to the wedding, so I'm going to be stuck dancing with her brothers and cousins all night -- not that I blame you, Curtis, I don't expect you to go to weddings with me, I understand -- oh god, this dress is hideous, isn't it?" Hope stared down at the giant bow across her bodice.
"I think you look great," Curtis repeated.
"It's seafoam green, Curtis. Nobody looks good in seafoam green. And I have enough make-up on to stop a truck."
Curtis glanced at her for a second. "Yeah, but it makes your ass look good, though."
"Really?" said Hope. She twisted her head, trying to get a good look over her shoulder.
"Oh, yeah," Curtis said. "Really great. If Rex Reilly wasn't coming on in five minutes--" Curtis blew out a long breath, shaking his head. "Whoa, boy."
Hope beamed. "Thank you, Curtis." She crossed the room and kissed his forehead. "I left phone numbers on the fridge, and there's food inside that should last you till I get back. If you need anything you can call Newbie or my dad or the church. Have fun."
"Uh-huh," said Curtis, his attention back to the dancing animals on the television screen. Hope was halfway out the door when he called after her. "Hey, can you throw the Frooty-O's in here?"
"Curtis, I'm going to be late--" Hope said, halfway out the door.
"Fine," said Curtis, "no need to get all huffy and irrational about it, Hope. I'll get the things myself. Just go."
Hope sighed and marched down the stairs in her dyed heels.
Sara's husband's brother James returned to their table at the reception with two glasses of champagne. Hope restrained herself from downing hers all in one gulp.
"Thank you."
"No problem." He smiled at her widely -- he had what seemed like an abnormally large amount of teeth -- and sat down next to her, awfully close. "So, Hope. What do you do?"
Oh, wonderful; time for 20 Questions. "Oh, I, uh, right now I'm working in a pet supply shop part time? We sell, um, food and treats and toys and clothes and things."
James nodded at her like that was actually fascinating. Hope took a sip of her drink and and felt the bubbles tickle her throat. "And you? What do you do?"
"I'm a pediatric oncologist."
"Oh," said Hope.
"I work with babies with cancer," James explained seriously.
Hope gave him a tight, close-lipped smile and didn't say I know what pediatric oncology is, jerkwad. "How interesting," she said instead.
James scooted his chair in a little closer. "So, I hear you live in the city?"
Under the table, he set his hand down firmly on Hope's knee, and Hope jerked.
"Ah -- yes, my boyfriend and I have a really nice apartment in Kensington Market," Hope said quickly. James raised his eyebrow and Hope said, "He, um, he couldn't make it today."
The hand let go of her leg, and James leaned back slightly in his chair. "I see," he said. "And what does he do?"
Hope had been dating Curtis for more than a year now. You would think that was plenty of time to figure out a decent answer to that question. "He's ... in between jobs right now," Hope said weakly, trying not to let the sentence turn into a question.
"Mmm-hmm," James said.
Hope took a long sip of champagne.
Curtis was asleep on the couch when she got home. The TV was blaring still, playing some infomercial about vacuum-sealing your food. Curtis was still wearing the clothes he'd had on when she left in the morning, jeans he'd been wearing for three days and an ugly yellow t-shirt that Hope had accidentally shrunk in the hot water last time she did laundry. His mouth was half-open and one cheek was smashed down into the couch cushion.
He looked kind of ... sweet.
Hope stood in the living room for a minute, frowning and watching him, trying to decide whether she should bother turning off the TV, or maybe at least throw a blanket over him or something.
She decided he probably wouldn't thank her anyway, though, so instead of doing either she just kicked off her ugly uncomfortable shoes and went to her room. She was too tired to even take care of the dress, so she just left it crumpled in a pile on the floor while she put on her nightshirt and crawled into her bed to collapse.
Hope woke up with all of the covers kicked to the end of the bed and Curtis pressed up all along her backside. It was hot, uncomfortably so -- it felt like her hair was sweating -- and she squirmed a little away from Curtis's warmth. It wasn't that she didn't appreciate him, didn't appreciate the thought -- she thought it was nice and all, and she loved him, but -- she turned onto her back and pushed Curtis's hand off her stomach.
Curtis stirred a little next to her and said foggily, "What are you doing?"
"Go back to sleep," Hope said. She started to sit up to get out of bed, but Curtis grabbed her arm suddenly, and pulled her back down with him without opening his eyes. He rolled halfway over to her and started kissing and nibbling her neck.
Hope stared up at the ceiling. "Curtis, it's -- I'm not in the mood."
"Oh?" Curtis said against her skin. "Are you sure? Because it's no problem for me or anything." He had slipped his hand up underneath her nightshirt, all the way up her legs, till his thumb was making slow circles on her inner thighs, just below her panties.
"Curtis--" Hope said helplessly.
"Yeah, Hope?" Curtis said. He raised his head and looked at her. His hair was messy from sleep, his eyes were dark, he was half-smiling -- god, Hope had no idea why she was so attracted to Curtis, but it didn't change the fact that she was. It was just all so infuriating sometimes.
Hope twisted out from underneath Curtis and got up from the bed. She raised her nightshirt over her head and dropped it on the floor, on top of the dress from last night, and then slipped her panties off, too. Curtis was still sitting on the bed, watching her eagerly. Hope crawled back onto the bed, pushing Curtis down onto his back, and climbed on top to straddle him.
Hope closed her eyes and took a deep breath before she gazed down at Curtis; he was grinning back up at her.
"You going to sock it to me?"
"You bet I am," Hope said, and she leaned down to kiss him.
Hope rang up the last of the items and said, "That'll be twelve sixty-five."
The old lady peered at her suspiciously. "The sign says fifty percent off."
"Um, yes," said Hope.
"You charged me full price for that cat collar," said the old lady. She was glaring now, full out, and Hope felt her smile crumble a little bit.
"Yeah, the half-off sale is for, um, the items with green tags only," Hope said. "See, you got the ball with the bells on sale? But the collar has a red tag, so it's full price."
"How do you live with yourself?" The old woman's voice wavered as she raised her voice louder and louder. "Cheating a poor old woman? I'm on a fixed income, missy!"
Other people in the store were looking over at them now; Hope tried to keep herself from wincing. "Honestly, I'm not cheating you--"
"I want to speak with your manager," the old woman said coldly.
"I don't think that's--"
"Now."
Hope swallowed back the words in her throat and smiled. "All right, ma'am."
Her brother had picked out the restaurant for dinner; it made Hope want to scream. Just the decor was bad enough -- it was dark and stodgy and reminded her of some sort of evil Victorian men's club. The food wasn't any better, either. Dad and Brian might be grunting in pleasure of their steaks, but Hope's pasta tasted like buttery glue.
Hope picked and poked at her plate slowly.
"Well, Hope," Dad said, putting down his fork. "How are things at the pizzeria?"
Hope had to look up from her dinner to answer where he could see her lips. "I'm not working there anymore."
Dad frowned. "What happened?"
"It didn't work out. I'm working at a pet supply shop now."
"I thought you didn't like dogs," Brian said, giving her a curious look.
"I like dogs fine," said Hope.
"Hmm," Dad said. "Well, how's Curtis?"
Hope tried to smile. "Oh, well, you know Curtis. Same as always."
"Speaking of Curtis," Brian said, in a voice so hearty it made Hope want to stab him with her fork, "how come you didn't drag him along tonight?"
Hope's sister-in-law Chelsea leaned over the table and said in her tiny whispery voice, "He's certainly welcome! We'd love to get a chance to meet him."
"My treat," Brian added, grinning.
"Curtis doesn't leave the house," Hope said wearily.
"What, at all?" Brian looked surprised. "I thought you were exaggerating."
Hope looked back down at her plate. Her dad said, "Curtis isn't a man of action like you, Brian. Curtis is a philosopher." He sounded proud.
"Uh-huh." Her brother sounded less impressed.
"So what's going on with you two?" Hope said. She was trying to sound cheerful but it might have just been kind of desperate.
Chelsea beamed. "We have such exciting news!"
"Actually," Brian said, puffing up, "we asked you two out for dinner so we could tell you in person."
"What's that?" Dad said.
Chelsea wrapped her arm around Brian's and squeezed. "We're going to have a baby!" she squealed.
Hope raised her eyebrows.
"Wow," she said flatly. "That's great."
When she got home Curtis was watching something on the international channel. Hope went straight to the kitchen. She filled up Lucky's food dish, loaded the dishwasher, and wiped up the milk Curtis had spilled on the counter while she was out.
The last beer was still in the fridge where she'd hidden it behind the orange juice. She sat down at the table and drank slowly while she stared out the window. When she was done she rinsed out the bottle and put it in a paper bag under the sink.
She walked back down the hall to the living room. Curtis's position hadn't changed an inch.
Hope walked over to the couch and lay down, scooting until her feet were hanging over the edge and her head was resting in Curtis's lap. She took Curtis's hand and set it down against her collarbone. Curtis didn't object to her moving him around -- it was like playing with a ragdoll, almost.
"Hi," Hope whispered.
"Hey, Hope," Curtis said distractedly.
"Whatcha watching?"
"Um, it's called El Corazon del Fuego?" Curtis said, glancing down at her. "It's a telenovela. A Latin American soap opera," he explained.
"That sounds nice," said Hope.
Curtis was done talking; he was watching the show again, and Hope watched him. After a while Lucky jumped up to join them and lie on Hope's stomach, and sometime after that Hope fell asleep.
"Curtis," Hope yelled as she walked down the hall to the bathroom. "When are you going to rent the room out again?"
Curtis's voice was muffled from inside his room as he answered. "I thought we were waiting for that weird smell to go away?"
Hope kneeled down and peered under the bathtub -- there were her favorite earrings. She lay flat and stretched her arm out as far as she could. "The smell's fine, Curtis. Can you just, please, do something with it?" Her fist closed around the earrings; Hope let out a deep breath as she pulled them out and stood back up.
"Uh, okay," Curtis called.
Hope shoved the earrings into place and walked to the mirror. Her hair looked shitty, but she was already going to be late for work, there was no time to fix it, so she just ran the faucet and patted the worst parts down with water. "Okay?"
"Yeah, I'll take care of it today!" Curtis sounded far enough away that he could have been across the country.
"Thank you!" Hope yelled back, and she slammed the bathroom door shut.
During her lunch break, Hope got bitten by a German shepherd three feet away from the shop's front door.
"It's not even -- it's not even like I want kids, I don't. It's just that sometimes it feels like everybody else's life is moving forward and meanwhile, I'm still right here."
"Uh-huh," said Newbie. He was leaning forward, resting his elbows on the counter, looking at her with an expression she thought might be trying for calm and soothing. Hope wasn't sure when Newbie had become her surrogate psychiatrist, but he was easy to talk to.
Hope bit her lips. "I don't know what I want, but I know I want something. And I, I don't think Curtis does. Curtis is perfectly satisfied with how things are. I don't think he even has goals."
"Oh, Curtis has goals," Newbie said, straightening up so suddenly it took her off guard, and she stepped back a step from the counter. "Curtis has plenty of goals, he just aims low. I admire Curtis for that."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean," said Newbie, "Curtis doesn't need any more goals, because he's figured out everything he wants already. Look at him. Food, place to live, TV all day, hot girlfriend--" Here, he gestured to Hope almost shyly. "Curtis's got everything he needs. Any more goals would just be redundant at this point."
Hope hesitated for a long moment. "But ... that's stupid," she said finally.
"Yeah, well." Newbie shot her a quick grin. "That's the way it is. I think we could all learn from Curtis, actually. If you like what you have, you're always happy."
There was a flaw in that logic. "But Curtis doesn't seem that happy," Hope pointed out.
Newbie just shrugged. "What are you comparing him with?"
Hope opened her mouth, and then closed it again. "I don't know."
The new roommate was about the size around as one of Hope's thighs. Hope only saw her in the hallway for a split second before she scuttled back to her room, but that was long enough for Hope to decide she reminded her of a scared gerbil. Hope blinked after her for a few seconds. Apparently she had put up a shiny glittery sign on the door -- it said "Ming-Juan" in sparkly pen and had lots of small cute cartoon animals drawn on it.
Hope wandered into the living room and sat down in the chair near the window. Curtis was watching an episode of Rex Reilly that she had seen at least three times before. Curtis had probably seen it at least ten.
"Curtis, do you ever think about kids?" Hope said. She curled her hand tightly around the hem of her blouse and gazed over at him.
"Uh, think what about them?" Curtis didn't look over at her when he talked, just straight back at the TV.
"About having them. Not now, I mean," Hope rushed to clarify, "but, you know. Someday. In the future."
"Oh," said Curtis. "No."
"No? Just no?"
"No, I don't think about having kids."
"No," Hope repeated.
"Um, are we still speaking English?" Curtis said -- and it was weird, but just making him finally look at her sent a really mean thrill of victory down her stomach.
"What do you think about the future, Curtis?" Hope folded her arms tightly across her chest.
"Uh, I don't know," Curtis said, looking at her like she was insane. "Is this like some kind of test?"
Curtis sounded some strange combination of bored and annoyed. It made Hope want to smack him.
"Do you think about it at all?" She could hear her voice raising, but she didn't care. "Do you think about anything? Are you happy like this? Nothing ever changes here, Curtis! Everyone I know is living their lives right now, and what are we doing? People are getting married, and having kids, and having real jobs, and, hell, I don't know, going out on dates, going dancing or restaurants or just the movies! Is this -- are we just going to be like this forever?"
Hope paused to suck in a breath; Curtis was staring at her like she was some new and particularly bizarre species of insect. He seemed to have totally forgotten about the existence of "Mommy and Me Alcoholics" in the background.
"You're mad because I haven't proposed to you?" Curtis said, his forehead furrowing.
For a couple of seconds, Hope was completely dumbfounded.
Curtis continued, "Is that why you're throwing a hissyfit? You want to get married?"
"That's what you got out of this argument?" Hope said.
"I mean, I think it's stupid," Curtis said, "but if you want to get married, we could do that. I don't care."
"Curtis, what are you talking about? You--" Hope flailed a little, trying to figure out where to start with the stupidity of that. "You don't even leave the property," she said finally.
"I don't leave it often," Curtis said, and Hope rolled her eyes.
"Whatever, I'm -- I'm going to bed," Hope said. She got out of the chair and halfway across the room before Curtis called down her name. When she turned around, Curtis was off the couch and walking toward her.
He stopped in front of her and looked down into her face. "You're really not happy?"
Hope hesitated. "I'm not not happy."
"Huh," said Curtis thoughtfully.
"I just -- there should be more than this, Curtis."
"What more is there?" Curtis said. He wrapped his arms around her, and Hope leaned into him instead of pulling away, and rested her head on his shoulder.
"I don't know," Hope said. She felt tired, and confused, and something she didn't even know. "Maybe there isn't. Shouldn't there be?"
Curtis's hands drifted down until they were cupping Hope's butt. "Look, if you want a kid, we can have a kid. If you want to get married, I could do it. If you want to get rid of Lucky or have a threeway or, I don't know, start a cult, whatever, I don't care, all right?"
Hope turned her face against Curtis's t-shirt and said, "What if I asked you to give up TV?"
Curtis went stiff against her. After a moment he said, "I don't really think that's a very funny joke, Hope."
Hope couldn't help giggling against his chest, and once she started, she couldn't stop, not even when she was out of breath and almost crying from it.
"Hope?" Curtis said uncertainly. "Hope, are you okay? Hope? Come on, sit down." He pulled her across the room and sat her down on the couch. "Rex Reilly will make you feel better," he said, and he sat down next to her again, and Hope giggled to herself all the while as Curtis returned to watch the ten-year-old alcoholics baring their souls to a live television audience.
Hope woke up in Curtis's bed, half-smushed against the wall. Curtis was still sleeping, sprawled out on his back and snoring faintly. Hope lay still, staring at the ceiling thoughtfully for a few minutes, and then she kissed Curtis gently on the forehead and climbed off the mattress.
She went into the kitchen and phoned her work. "I can't come in today. I think the bite from yesterday got infected or something. Sorry," she said, and hung up.
Hope whistled all the way down the hall to the bathroom. Her favorite cucumber melon bubble bath was jammed into the overflowing medicine cabinet. There was probably enough for two or three more baths if she scrimped and saved with the rest of it.
"What the hell," Hope said out loud, and she dumped the rest of the bottle under the faucet.
The water was hot enough that she had to lower herself down inch by inch; when she finally got all the way in and rested her head back against the tub, bubbles sloshed out the sides. Hope soaked until her fingers all got pruny.
She combed her hair out and put on her bathrobe and wandered down the hall to the kitchen. Curtis was eating cereal.
"Morning," said Hope.
"Mmmfflee," said Curtis.
Hope opened the fridge and all the cabinets. She was in the mood for cookies. "Curtis," Hope said idly, "are you happy?"
"Uh, yeah," Curtis said. He squeezed past her to stick the milk back in the fridge. "Duh."
Hope grinned to herself as Curtis left the room. They were out of flour, she noticed; she could run down to the store and pick some up, and maybe some chocolate chips and nuts. Yummy.
She went to her room and put on her favorite sexy black underwear and her yellow flowered t-shirt and her paint-splattered overalls and a pair of flip-flops. Her shoes and bridesmaid's dress were still on the floor from Saturday night, and she picked them up, too.
"I'm going out, Curtis," she called, and didn't wait for an acknowledgment from the living room.
Out in the street, she stopped and picked the lid of the trashcan, and then let the heels and dress fall in with a flourish. She stood there in front of the can for a minute, hands on her hips, and then she starting walking down the block, still smiling to herself.