Not sure what the title is yet.

Something I am working on for class. Tell me what you think-if it drags or whatever. It is very unfinished. But need to know if I should go on.



You want me because I am vacant, Isaac. Because I never ask you to discuss me. I have wholly sacrificed myself for your needs. I am your personal graveyard, I believe. Strategically designed by you. Your shreds of ego, your glorious reflection, shamelessly large and obese. Right here. In me.

Grow up, Charlotte.

I am grown up. You just don’t like who I am.

You are only trying to hurt me.

Charlotte held a cigarette between her fingers. She was lying supine on the floor, bending her legs just a bit at the knees so as to make her legs look longer and leaner.

I am trying to shock you. Besides, I hate myself. You know that. Sometimes I can follow that echo like the bloody tracks of a wounded deer. “I hate myself comes” out of my head while I brush my hair. I am eating my dinner and “I hate myself” comes out of no where as if another voice is chiding me from the beyond. But I believe I really do hate myself, Isaac. I can see myself dead so clearly that I ache because of it.

Do we have to talk about this, Charlotte?

No. We don’t. I can talk about something else.

What else do you want to talk about?

Women. They are ridiculous, Isaac. They aren’t capable of living because they endlessly doubt themselves. I’ve never met a woman I liked. They disgust me. Almost as much as fucking you disgusts me.

I disgust you now? I’m leaving, Charlotte. I’ve had enough of your abuse.

I’m not abusing you am I? I am so sorry, Isaac. Please don’t leave.

I am leaving. You’re cruel.

Ted picked up his coat from the back of the couch and started for the door.

Don’t leave Ted. Please!

Ted kept walking so Charlotte jumped off the couch and ran to him. She sunk to her knees and grabbed him around the legs then buried her face between his thighs. He paused and looked down at the top of her head.

Charlotte, do I really disgust you?

No, Isaac. Never. I was lying. Don’t leave me, okay?

Isaac stood for a moment then began stroking Charlotte’s long, dark hair. He helped her to her feet. She was unsteady and swayed a little.

Okay Charlotte. But can you stop this endless tirade of hate and loathing? It really is getting to be a big bore.

Yes. But I need to ask you a question, Isaac. Just one.

Drink your coffee, Charlotte.

Isaac, why did you do it? She was my best friend.

Do you need a refill, dear?

You can’t answer me. You never will, will you?

Drink your coffee and stop talking. Just don’t talk. You’re much prettier when you don’t talk.

I’ll stop talking.

Despite her best efforts, her eyes began to fill with tears. She hugged Ted tightly and whispered into his ear. He led her to the couch and patted her head. He ran his hands over her breasts and smoothed her dress down against her legs. She cried and he pretended not to see.

Do you think I am an artist, Ted? Do you think I am any good? My stories keep coming back to me. When they come back there are suddenly different to me. As if they have been regurgitated and turned into acidic waste. I wonder what I do wrong…

I am getting you more coffee.

When Isabel and I were younger we used to pretend we were famous ice skaters. Can you believe that? And Isabel always thought I was better than her and really I was. She would wear this gaudy purple leotard that made her look like a marshmallow Peep. She wasn’t very pretty, you know. All her boyfriends preferred me.

I don’t want to talk about Isabel.

Isaac moved towards the kitchen and Charlotte lay on the couch with her hands folded under her head. He brought back another cup of coffee and set it in front of Charlotte but she didn’t touch it.

Charlotte, please drink the coffee.

Why?

Because you are drunk.

I am not.

Drink it.

I am getting dizzy. It’s the strangest feeling. I often imagined myself dying on Percocet. I would get euphoric and imagine that I had just overdosed and would soon die. The strangest things would happen! A fear would overcome the peace and I would make myself get up and walk around. But I think it isn’t nearly that frightening now.

For God’s sake, Charlotte. What is the matter with you?

Do remember that story I told you? When I stole Isabel’s boyfriend from her and we went on a fieldtrip to Williamsburg on the bus. Everyone always loved Isabel so much more than me really and some of the guys started throwing paper balls at me and calling me terrible names. But you know what the weirdest thing was? All that time Ricky was undoing my bra, feeling me everywhere he could without being too profane. I couldn’t even feel his hands. I didn’t care about his dirty hands. And Isabel sat right across from me with her new boyfriend and watched it all and I saw her smile. I saw her laugh when one of the guys called me a worthless whore. It wasn’t nice of her.

It wasn’t nice of you to steal her boyfriend.

He didn’t want her anymore. Do you think she is pretty, Isaac? Prettier than me?

It doesn’t matter. You know that.

But it does matter. You chose her over me.

I did not choose her over you.

But you did! And how can you say that? When you slept with her I am sure that I was there somewhere. I am sure that in some remoter island in your mind, I flitted across. And you still chose to do it.

I can’t talk about this with you.

I think Isabel is plump. Even chubby. She’s not really that nice, you know. More than once she has been nasty, like a snake on the hunt. She gets at me when she can. Little things, like when I talk about putting on make-up she says, “Uh! I could never wear make-up. It makes me feel fake.” But I know what she is really saying. She is saying that even though I get more attention, more men, more compliments, she is the prettier one because her beauty is real.

Maybe it is.

Is that what you think, Isaac?

Charlotte became quiet. Isaac looked over to her and saw that she was crying again. She was trembling and for a moment Isaac thought about going to her. To calm her but Charlotte was always so dramatic.