Because it has been so hot, the workers have been leaving early but most of the rooftop ‘patio’ is done. Just some finishing touches
I ordered some patio furniture because it seems Hanna likes to hangout there with some friends she has made. It seems she is in no hurry to move back in the brownstone with her mother and her mother’s boyfriend
and so I suspect her mother is a bit jealous
It seems too that Hanna has taken over the kitchen. There are crates of bottled spring water and tortilla chips are bursting from everywhere. Ilya did not seem pleased about this at first but Hanna has a way with getting around people; somehow she arranged backstage passes for a rock concert Ilya is going to
“How did you do that?” I asked Hanna earlier today
And she just shrugged,
“I asked some guy I know and he handed them over.”
Well, she’s beautiful so, it’s really no wonder. So now Ilya is in the palm of Hanna’s hand and wrapped around her finger; she has a Jedi charm
But later after Hanna has disappeared with her friends I find Lisa out on the patio roof! By now the workers have left for the day,
But Lisa ? —which surprises me as I had not realized she had found her way over to my penthouse —no, I’m not exactly angry.... not exactly perturbed either.... well.... only—maybe that isn’t totally altogether true
It’s hard to say what game is up with her
She is sitting at the table under the umbrella drinking what looks like a whiskey sour and I suspect not her first one
Did she ask someone on the staff for it before they left for the day or help herself to the liquor cabinet? I suspect the former as it looks professionally done
so I walk over deciding there’s no point avoiding the Trojan horse and go right over to the table where she sits. I just pull out a chair, and sit down curiously with a bottle of water. She is clearly miffed about something. The sun is still a bit strong overhead but the heat is not as bad under the umbrella
“I don’t smoke,” she says but then proceeds to light up, “do you? You must to stay so skinny,” she adds —making me flinch— and after affectively igniting her torch, she reaches into her huge bag to put on lipstick
dramatically opening her compact to perform the transformation —then blots her lips together with such odd exaggeration
“No, actually,” I say watching her with covert fascination
She opens the cigarette box again and lifts one to offer me
I decline
“No, I don’t smoke,” I repeat
and I guess I watch her with some confusion
“Oh come on!” she pushes it towards me and then leaves it there as if it can tempt me
She takes a deep inhale and sits back in the chair and looks up at the sky as she exhales with a long drawn out breath
“It’s this country, does it ever get to you?” she asks so bluntly and looks me dead in the eyes with a sharp iceblue gaze.
“Yes, all the time,” I say but then wonder if she’s been reading my blog.
But then she asks,
“How do you stay so skinny? I thought for sure you were a smoker,” she sweeps me frankly with her gaze head to foot
“I can’t gain weight,” I tell her “and I have trouble with handling stress.”
“That’s interesting, how is that? I’ve never heard of such a thing. How much do you weigh? Like 45 kilograms?” But I’m not sure how much that is and just shake my head
“What are you —like a size 00?”
I should be used to this by now; that look I get from most members of my gender and these types of remarks that leave emotional scars for days; sometimes I don’t want to step out the door; you would think there would be more solidarity among my gender but it isn’t that way, I wish I knew why
I force a shrug,
“it’s an inconvenience in a lot of ways.”
“How’s that?” she blows in my face
“Stores never have anything in my size so I have to buy everything on line.”
“What about Forever 21 or teen shops?” Her expression is not even teasing, she is actually serious
Whatever
“You think I look ridiculous with him, don’t you?” I only say this because she has pushed my limit with her last remark
She drags more on the cigarette and considers still sizing me up
Eventually she says,
“you can never be too rich or too thin.”
As if....
Then adds,
“we may still have some of Hanna’s clothes from when she was.... ten.... How tall —are—you?” she looks at me
I shake my head holding in rage,
“I don’t know how you measure in your country but not that minuscule, actually I’m 5’4”!” I say with indignation
.... ok, almost—I round up, but who’s measuring
What is she drinking anyway? I wonder and ask her,
“and how tall are you are you—six foot?”
“Hmm!” she laughs, “touché!” and still looks at me, “you look taller from a distance actually,” she tells me
I then reach for her bag on the floor and
....hold it up to myself,
“is that why you thought I could fit into your handbag?” I ask
She nearly chokes on the cigarette and I have to hand her my water
“You knew what I said?” she asks shocked with tears streaming down her face from coughing
I smile,
“I’m still learning but I have picked up a few words,” I say
Again more sizing up,
“I can see why Jörn likes you.... he likes little things....that fit into his compartments neatly like careful neat rows.... little things he can push around because— it makes him feel important —and ....if I were to be honest I would grudgingly admit.... that you don’t actually look too ridiculous with him ....which may be why I think I hate you for that,” I notice she is not just a bit tipsy and notice too the human flaw exposed now in her eyes. No doubt the drink has brought out more truth than she might have allowed otherwise,
“Yes I have Lorenzo ....but, Jörn —“ she sighs with defeat and another shrug, “I am still possessive of— you know—and I don’t like sharing.” And adds after a pause, “....him, I mean.... he is not easy to let go of.”
(....I guess that is what you and his mother have in common....only I would not say that out loud.)
It is a very uncomfortable moment and pause in a remarkably uncomfortable conversation
“But if I were to be honest ....yet again —I would also admit.... very grudgingly.... that I .... never saw him look at me —or anyone.... the way that he looks at you.... I have never seen that look ever on him. There is something very different in him that I.... well, I guess it disturbs me. It is over ten years now since we were together but I always felt —you know.... if I wanted him back I could....” she stamps out the butt into something she uses as an ashtray that looks like the cap to a beverage bottle. After watching the smoke diminish she says, with a brittle tone,
“No you don’t look ridiculous with him; he —on the other hand....I think looks like a pedophile with you.”
“But—you do know that ....I am older than him?” I ask
Her mouth drops open
Impulsively, I reach for her glass and take a deep long swallow. It is a strong drink. Which I find I really need after this conversation. More whiskey than sour which makes me cough. It also makes me bold
I say, and clearly the drink has detonated the filter of polite conversation,
“you know, to be honest, I’m used to women hating me....that is— unless they want to sleep with me. It would be nice for once to meet a woman who knew how to be strong enough in herself to know how to be a true friend and a real person to another woman who didn’t find every other woman some kind of threat.”
“Unfortunately, to me you are quite a threat so, I don’t think there is hope for that here. But I think it’s primal to women to be threatened by every other woman.”
“You could be right. Our gender has not really evolved despite what the hashtags say,” I don’t ask but finish her drink for her and get up and leave her there
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