her: it didn’t worry her that she hadn’t seen Dewey the entire afternoon, it didn’t worry her that she hadn’t seen Tonio the entire afternoon, it didn’t worry her that she had no idea where they were and that they apparently had no idea where she was either, it didn’t worry her that Robbie still might not have reappeared, it didn’t worry her that they were not going to get back home when they were supposed to, it didn’t worry her that she was, well, stuck in this perfectly pleasant room, it didn’t worry her that she was so sleepy, that she was beginning to get hungry. She was still prepared to see it as an adventure—remember the time she got locked in that hotel room in that odd little town and nobody came looking for her, not anyone? She wasn’t even worried about how little she was worried about these things. Might as well go ahead and admit to herself that she didn’t want anyone to find her. At least not yet, not now. In theory, Tonio and Dewey could be looking for her frantically, but if so they were doing a really pathetic job. Good. Let them have fun with their sledding.
Here was the thing about Tonio and Robbie, now that she had a good chance to sit down and ruminate on the subject: Tonio (he of the drooping shoulders and the dry stare and the monotone speech patterns, the infuriating imaginary superiority and the factual near helplessness) was hard to like in a superficial way, while he was, at the same time, with his steadfastness and his seriousness and his honesty and his intense love for his family, etc., etc., impossible not to love on a deeper level, whereas Robbie was almost universally liked but not really available for or capable of being loved. And yet she always found herself accepting Robbie easily, as if the things she saw in him and felt about him were true—with Tonio she always thought there was something she was missing, as if there were another version of Tonio and of her and even of Dewey that didn’t live somewhat happily on a quiet street in Mount Pleasant, South Carolina, and that at any minute it would all just slip down, like a poorly hung stage backdrop, to reveal something else.
If only the room had a vaseful of flowers. There was the smell of jasmine in the air, but no flowers. There was also the issue of food—room service would be welcome. Her stomach, at the moment, was capable of grinding and polishing stones. Aside from that, the possibility of staying in here overnight did not seem distressing at all. There was just this craving for… pesto tortellini …a sudden and intense craving for pesto tortellini. Otherwise all was well. Except how would she take off her makeup? When it was bedtime, that is. She didn’t wear that much, her skin was naturally olive and quite smooth, but still. There was nothing but a bar of soap in the bathroom. She’d already checked.
From her spot on the bed she watched the snow fall. It was like being inside a snow globe. The room was very quiet, that was one thing you noticed for sure. The room was intensely quiet. You might even go so far as to say the room was very, very intensely and almost oppressively quiet, if you were going to comment on the quiet in that room, which she didn’t intend to, liking it so much the way she did. But wow —talk about quiet. Whew.
The thing about Tonio was. The thing about Tonio.
Hadn’t she initially gotten into this mess because she thought she saw Robbie going up the stairs?
She went over to the door and she knocked on it tentatively (strange to be on the inside of the door knocking to see if someone was on the outside) and called out, “Robbie?” Just once. Then she went back and sat on the side of the bed and gazed out the window again.
There was something strange about the snow, about the light outside. It looked brighter. It was getting brighter instead of darker. My God, no wonder she was hungry. She’d slept all night. It was tomorrow.
13
T he Dooze Man was feeling a little
Here was the thing about Tonio and Robbie, now that she had a good chance to sit down and ruminate on the subject: Tonio (he of the drooping shoulders and the dry stare and the monotone speech patterns, the infuriating imaginary superiority and the factual near helplessness) was hard to like in a superficial way, while he was, at the same time, with his steadfastness and his seriousness and his honesty and his intense love for his family, etc., etc., impossible not to love on a deeper level, whereas Robbie was almost universally liked but not really available for or capable of being loved. And yet she always found herself accepting Robbie easily, as if the things she saw in him and felt about him were true—with Tonio she always thought there was something she was missing, as if there were another version of Tonio and of her and even of Dewey that didn’t live somewhat happily on a quiet street in Mount Pleasant, South Carolina, and that at any minute it would all just slip down, like a poorly hung stage backdrop, to reveal something else.
If only the room had a vaseful of flowers. There was the smell of jasmine in the air, but no flowers. There was also the issue of food—room service would be welcome. Her stomach, at the moment, was capable of grinding and polishing stones. Aside from that, the possibility of staying in here overnight did not seem distressing at all. There was just this craving for… pesto tortellini …a sudden and intense craving for pesto tortellini. Otherwise all was well. Except how would she take off her makeup? When it was bedtime, that is. She didn’t wear that much, her skin was naturally olive and quite smooth, but still. There was nothing but a bar of soap in the bathroom. She’d already checked.
From her spot on the bed she watched the snow fall. It was like being inside a snow globe. The room was very quiet, that was one thing you noticed for sure. The room was intensely quiet. You might even go so far as to say the room was very, very intensely and almost oppressively quiet, if you were going to comment on the quiet in that room, which she didn’t intend to, liking it so much the way she did. But wow —talk about quiet. Whew.
The thing about Tonio was. The thing about Tonio.
Hadn’t she initially gotten into this mess because she thought she saw Robbie going up the stairs?
She went over to the door and she knocked on it tentatively (strange to be on the inside of the door knocking to see if someone was on the outside) and called out, “Robbie?” Just once. Then she went back and sat on the side of the bed and gazed out the window again.
There was something strange about the snow, about the light outside. It looked brighter. It was getting brighter instead of darker. My God, no wonder she was hungry. She’d slept all night. It was tomorrow.
13
T he Dooze Man was feeling a little
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