Beauty
By Ned Vizzini.
I have a secret: my iPod headphones are not attached to anything.
They end with a dangerous lack of counterbalance in my front shirt pocket. No one seems to notice that there is no iPod in there.
Perhaps they look and think that I have some new, much, much smaller iPod, and they feel humbled.
Having iPod headphones with no iPod reminds me of a scheme that a friend of mine and I came up with when iPods were new and it was a mark of peacock distinction to walk through the streets of New York with the headphones in.
We figured we could just sell fake iPod headphones that were counterbalanced. Then you could walk around making it appear that you had an iPod when you did not.
But the plan died the swift and bemusing death of all stoner fantasies.
*
She comes out with her large mocha and sits down with her cell phone to her face. It is the LG VX8600, LG’s version of the RAZR, which she got a week ago. Verizon is sending everyone those phones these days in anticipation of the iPhone, which they are worried will steal their business.
I’m getting a iPhone, naturally. I’ve been waiting and saving up since the last iPod was stolen. It’ll make a good counterbalance, but when I sit at this table it will be just as silent.
“She has such power over people,” my beauty says.
Rare for her to start with a complete sentence. Usually I catch her in media res.
“I mean, she maxed out her credit card and then she convinced Allegra to lend her two hundred dollars and then she told Allegra I’m sorry, I can’t make rent, and Allegra fronted her that too. She’s like, she’s just a very powerful and manipulative person.”
I make a tally mark on my notepad. She’s talking about Celeste. I think she might have a secret crush on Celeste. A secret pornographic lesbian crush.
“Like, I want to travel, Mom. I want to go to Europe.”
I make a tally mark.
“No one respects that I’m really figuring out my life. Like, if I’m not going to do it now, when am I going to do it? I feel really old. I know it’s stupid, but you know when I turn twenty-one going to be, like, really depressed.”
I make two tally marks.
She laughs. I’m fairly sure that her mom counteracted by pointing out her own advanced age. I wish I could hear her mom, hear how similar their voices are.
*
She’s so rote for a young beauty. So in line with a schedule. A mocha every day at 8:40? What a gift for an old man like me.
I slunk into a schedule in my 40s. I wasn’t sure why at first; I was a wild youth, believe me. I think I see it as a way to control time, to wrap my hands around it as it has wrapped its hands around me. A circle of snakes locked in combat.
She’s going to make a wonderful, responsible mother.
*
Ten minutes into the conversation she says, “Okay.” She puts the phone on the table, open like a stapler.
She sips her mocha.
When she gets back on the line, she begins a descending series of Uh-huhs, each more concerned than the last.
Then she says, “Oh my God.”
She gets up quickly, banging against the table. Her mocha falls to the ground. The top spills off, mocha leaping all over the sidewalk; the protective insulating sleeve goes akimbo.
“Omigod,” she says again, and grabs her bag.
I don’t think. “Wait!” I leap up. “Wait, what happened?”
She turns to see me. What was I thinking? Her shock is doubled and her face is that of a bewildered child—she didn’t need this.
“I mean, sorry. Did you need any help? Are you okay?”
She turns and starts running down the street, scrinching her eyes. I throw my hands up against my forehead and sit down with my elbows on the table. Never again, and she was so beautiful. She strangled time too.
In the shadow created by my arms, the shiny end of my headphones stands out. It must have exposed itself as I leapt up.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Ned Vizzini is the author of It’s Kind of a Funny Story, Be More Chill, and Teen Angst? Naaah…. He has written for The New York Times Book Review, Bookslut, Dogmatika, and Underground Voices. His work has been has been translated into six languages. He lives in Brooklyn, NY. (3:AM Top 5 here).
First published in 3:AM Magazine: Monday, June 25th, 2007.
