There's a peace that comes over a place after violence has passed through it. A silence. Darlene's never been in a war zone or even a natural disaster, but she imagines it would be something like this, when everyone's finished dying and the birds have come through to pick the bones clean. Times Square has been blocked off since last night, but the ground's still littered with discarded signs; there's a single shoe lying in the gutter across the street. She doesn't know why she focuses on that shoe. It's a Converse, big, probably a man's. The laces are missing. Darlene sucks down the last of her cigarette and then ashes it against the nearest wall.
This is always the worst part. The comedown.
Last weekend and the Monday after she relied on …show more content…
He can see the far-off end, the compounded result, and he’s patient—or maybe just cold-blooded. That’s something Darlene can never be. And tied to that is her inability to savor victory. She’d been giddy when it happened, but it’s like doing coke; it hits fast, and dies away just as quickly. She saw the end of it on Monday, watching all those people dance in the red-lit rooms of the arcade. She heard them singing along to Ol’ Dirty Bastard’s ’Got Your Money’ and felt the joy go out of her even as she insisted it had been a success. It had been a success, of course. It was just that now it was over. There was nothing more for her to …show more content…
“Two months ago I ate an entire chocolate cake by myself.”
“What a big girl,” Darlene mutters, and plunges a hand into the popcorn. She shovels fistfuls into a paper bowl from the party, feeling for the gun at the same time, but it isn’t there. She gets all the way down to the bottom and along the edges: nothing. She remembers what it felt like, and where she pushed it in; she knows where it should be. She knows where it isn’t anymore. “Fuck.”
From behind her, very pleasantly: “Something the matter?”
“Nothing, other than the fact that you know where my brother is and won’t tell me.” Darlene says, turning, trying to keep her face straight. The question is, who has the gun now? Not Elliot. Someone from the party? Could Trenton or Mosley or Romero have come across it and kept it, and not said anything? And yet, at the same time, it doesn’t matter who has it. It isn’t here when she needs it: that’s the important thing. She hands over the popcorn. Joanna accepts it, then lays it to one side and doesn’t look at it again.
“Your brother Elliot—” she says his name carefully, deliberately— “told me he didn’t know where Tyrell was, that he hadn’t seen him for days. I don’t believe
This is always the worst part. The comedown.
Last weekend and the Monday after she relied on …show more content…
He can see the far-off end, the compounded result, and he’s patient—or maybe just cold-blooded. That’s something Darlene can never be. And tied to that is her inability to savor victory. She’d been giddy when it happened, but it’s like doing coke; it hits fast, and dies away just as quickly. She saw the end of it on Monday, watching all those people dance in the red-lit rooms of the arcade. She heard them singing along to Ol’ Dirty Bastard’s ’Got Your Money’ and felt the joy go out of her even as she insisted it had been a success. It had been a success, of course. It was just that now it was over. There was nothing more for her to …show more content…
“Two months ago I ate an entire chocolate cake by myself.”
“What a big girl,” Darlene mutters, and plunges a hand into the popcorn. She shovels fistfuls into a paper bowl from the party, feeling for the gun at the same time, but it isn’t there. She gets all the way down to the bottom and along the edges: nothing. She remembers what it felt like, and where she pushed it in; she knows where it should be. She knows where it isn’t anymore. “Fuck.”
From behind her, very pleasantly: “Something the matter?”
“Nothing, other than the fact that you know where my brother is and won’t tell me.” Darlene says, turning, trying to keep her face straight. The question is, who has the gun now? Not Elliot. Someone from the party? Could Trenton or Mosley or Romero have come across it and kept it, and not said anything? And yet, at the same time, it doesn’t matter who has it. It isn’t here when she needs it: that’s the important thing. She hands over the popcorn. Joanna accepts it, then lays it to one side and doesn’t look at it again.
“Your brother Elliot—” she says his name carefully, deliberately— “told me he didn’t know where Tyrell was, that he hadn’t seen him for days. I don’t believe