Laundry list

The whiskey always seemed to go down easier there, some consolation for the lack of seats, the too-young crowd and the dreck that always seemed to be drifting down from the speakers. I cradled the glass in my hand, a pyramid of ice cubes towering over the splash of liquid left at the bottom.

"You would fuck me, wouldn't you?" I turned to see a girl many years my junior, covered in an overcoat, with makeup smeared below her eyes.

"Beg pardon?"

"You would fuck me. Right?"

I sat up a bit straighter in my chair, opening my shoulders to her a bit. "I'm sorry. I have a girlfriend."

"Well, say you don't."

"Say it?"

"Imagine it."

"Oh." I relaxed my eyebrows. "How well do I know you?"

"What?"

"At the moment I am to decide whether or not we have sex. Do I know you at all?"

"Oh. Yes, then."

"Well?" She didn't respond. "Do I know you well, I mean."

"Yes."

"For how long?"

"Years."

"We grew up together?"

"Could be."

"So I know you well. OK." She seemed to stir, as if ready to speak, but I continued. "What do I like about you?"

"You're asking?"

"Yes."

"I suppose ... Well, I guess ... OK. You like that you can tell whether I'm actually smiling by whether I'm showing too much of my gums. You like that you know what scene in a movie will make me cry. You like ..." Her voice trailed off. She tugged at her lapel. "You like that I always ignore you when I get my hair cut or buy a new dress. You like that you can tell when I'm on the phone with my parents by the way my accent changes. You like the way I talk about my cat like he's a real person. And you like that I keep a diary in a spiral notebook."

"Those are —"

"Oh, and you like that I always speak louder when I don't know what I'm talking about. And that I never forget a name. Oh, and that I keep an old fortune-cookie slip of paper in my wallet even though it's been in there so long you can't read it anymore. And you like that I like nectarines but not peaches on account of the fuzz. But what you like most of all is that I set all my clocks on military time so that when I take a really long nap, I know whether I've slept through the night."

"Right. And what don't I like about you?"

"Things you don't like?"

"That's right."

"Nothing. There's nothing."

"Well, then." I eased my weight against the back of the chair. Our eyes locked. "I guess I'd have to say that I'd fuck you."

"You would?"

"I suppose I would, yes."

"OK. Well, goodnight."

"You're leaving?"

"You are."

"Ah." I stood up from the chair and slid my arms into my jacket. "In another life, perhaps."

"In another life."

"Goodnight."

"Goodnight."