Super Sad True Love Story: A Novel (23 page)

What’s wrong with us, Precious Panda? Why can’t we find guys who are just right for us? At least your Lenny loves you so much he’ll never ever cheat on you. I can’t understand why you’re feeling so insecure about him. So he’s brain-smart. Who cares??? It’s not like he’s some superstar Media guy or VP at LandOLakes. So he REALLY, REALLY READS instead of scans. Big whoop. Maybe you guys can read to each other in bed or something. And then you can sew your own clothes. HA HA HA. Anyway, looking good is the new smart, and I don’t think you should have kids with him because you’ll have really ugly children.

I’m sorry you saw some poor people in the park, my sweet, sensitive panda, but you’re right we’re not all in this together. I think what your sister is doing is cool though. Someone needs to stand up and say something to these dumbasses in charge of everything. You go, Sally! Oh, shit. I gotta subtract. Why does alcohol make you go so much? Is that a scientific thing?

CHUNG.WON.PARK
TO
EUNI-TARD:

Eunhee,

Why you no respond to Mommy? Three times I call and right. We have dinner with Uncle Joon I make dolsot bap just like you like with extra
crunchy rice from the pot bottom. When I was little girl we didn’t eat rice from bottom because we are from good family and we only give nooroonggi to beggars, but now I know you like it so I always cook dolsot bap too long even when you not here because I miss you so much!!
Ha, I try to make unhappy face, but it come out happy, so maybe Jesu telling me something! Be grateful and throw away of yourself because you are blessed in Christ. We are much more happy family now that you are close by and watching on Sally. Daddy love you very much but I have trouble in my heart. I see Joy Lee mother at H-Mart. You say you stay at Joy apartment in Manhattan but Mrs. Lee say it not true. Why you lie to Mommy? I find out everything anyway. Maybe you living now with some meeguk boy in dirty apartment? So shocking. So shocking. You come back home and live with us. Daddy much better now. Sally need you to be top roll model so you stay away from dirty meeguk boy. I know my english bad but you understand what I write I think.

I love you,

Mommy

Oh, what is 3200-yuan-peg-dollar “miscellaneous charge” on AlliedWasteCVS account?? This in addition to regular finance charge? I try to up-end link to new LSAT Prep Course in Fort Lee which Mrs. Lee say make Joy get best result. 174 and before she had 154. I ask other Mommies at Church what they got and this very good improvement.

EUNI-TARD:
Lenny, I thought I asked you to clean the bathtub. This apartment is DISGUSTINGLY DIRTY. I’ve swiffered the kitchen floor and the bathroom floor already and vacuumed the carpet in the foyer too. Do it today! I don’t like living in a pig-sty.

LABRAMOV:
Euny, I’m sorry but we have to stay late at work today. There’s a mandatory meeting about the Debt Crisis and the LNWI protest thing in Central Park and D.C. They think the Fed may default on the dollar this year (!) and not all our clients’ money is totally yuan-pegged. I have to pull up like a thousand records by six o’clock. I think Joshie’s going to meet the Chinese Central Banker! Anyway, it’s pretty good for my career that they trust me with this kind of stuff.

EUNI-TARD:
So? What does that have to do with the bathtub?

LABRAMOV:
Maybe over the weekend we can have a little cleaning party.

EUNI-TARD:
It’s mostly your hair in the bathtub, you know. You’re the one who sheds 24/7.

LABRAMOV:
I know. I’ve never really cleaned the bathtub before, so maybe next time we can switch chores.

EUNI-TARD:
I’ve shown you how to do it three times. You’re brain-smart enough when it comes to dollar defaults or whatever but you can’t clean the bathtub?

LABRAMOV:
Maybe you can supervise me while I do it over the weekend.

EUNI-TARD:
Never mind. I’ll just do it myself. It’s easier in the end to just do everything myself.

LABRAMOV:
No, don’t do it! Wait until I have some free time. I’m sorry it’s so busy at work.

LABRAMOV:
Hello! Are you there?

LABRAMOV:
Are you mad at me?

LABRAMOV:
Eunice!

EUNI-TARD:
Ugh.

LABRAMOV:
What?

EUNI-TARD:
I hate this.

LABRAMOV:
What can I do to make you feel better? I’ll clean all weekend, top to bottom.

EUNI-TARD:
Nothing. Nothing you can do. I can’t change you. So I guess I just have to take on all these responsibilities myself.

LABRAMOV:
That’s not true, Eunice.

LABRAMOV:
I AM changing. It just takes time.

LABRAMOV:
Let’s have a nice dinner at that Brazilian place in the village. My treat.

EUNI-TARD:
Don’t forget to pick up the TWO-PLY toilet paper on the way home.

LABRAMOV:
I won’t forget.

EUNI-TARD:
You always forget. That’s why you’re a tuna-brain.

LABRAMOV:
Ha ha. I’m glad you’re not mad at me.

EUNI-TARD:
Don’t count your blessings, nerd.

LABRAMOV:
I’m not counting anything.

EUNI-TARD:
I just want a nice, clean apartment, Lenny. Don’t you want to
come home to a nice, clean apartment too? Don’t you want to be proud of where you live? Isn’t that what being an adult is about? It’s not just about reading Tolsoy and sounding smart. Big whoop.

LABRAMOV:
Reading who? Big what?

EUNI-TARD:
Forget it. I got to run to the laundry. Who else is going to pick up your undies? By the way, you should wear boxer briefs not just plain old regular briefs. They provide more support. You always complain that your balls hurt after a long walk, well why do you think that is?

LABRAMOV:
Because I wear bad underwear.

EUNI-TARD:
Who loves you,
kokiri
?

AMY GREENBERG’S “MUFFINTOP HOUR”:

JUNE 30

Dear Diary,

So, after the huge success with my parents, I asked Eunice to come out with me to Staten Island to meet my friends. I guess my intentions were self-aggrandizing and superficial. I wanted to introduce Eunice to my boys, impress them because she was so young and pretty. And I wanted to impress
her
because Noah and his girlfriend, Amy, were so Media.

The first part worked—you can’t really meet Eunice without appreciating her youth and her cool, shimmering indifference. The second part not so much.

The night in question was what we called Family Night, when all the boys invited their respective partners to Cervix, the kind of night when I was usually minus girlfriend and feeling like a fifth wheel. But on that night it would be Noah and his emotive girlfriend, Amy Greenberg, Vishnu and Grace, and Eunice and me, the couple-in-progress.

Even on the way to the subway, walking arm in arm, I tried to show my girl off to the denizens of Grand Street, but the selection of Eunice-appreciators was a bit thin that day. A crazy white man brushing his teeth in broad daylight. A retired Jew throwing a plastic cup of Coke at a discarded mattress. A feuding Aztec couple hitting
each other over the head with two plastic yellow daisies from within the unremitting brick façade of a housing project.

I had almost made it to the subway without incident. But by the razor-wire-surrounded lot next to the RiteAid, where our neighborhood’s resident shitter would squat in the middle of the day, I noticed a curious thing. A new billboard had gone up, courtesy of my employer, the Staatling-Wapachung Corporation. It depicted a familiar latticework of glass and pomposity, a series of three-story apartments crashing into one another at odd angles like a bunch of half-melted ice cubes in a stirred drink. “
HABITATS EAST
,” the sign proclaimed, beside the flags of the United Arab Emirates, China-Worldwide, and the European Union.

“Twenty million euros!” I said to Eunice. “That’s fifty years of my salary. Even foreigners don’t have that kind of money anymore!”

“Isn’t this the place where that guy shits all the time?” Euny said nonchalantly, evidently inured to the vagaries of my
quartier
. I continued to read:

“EXCLUSIVE Immortality Assistance”? Beg pardon? You had to
prove
you were worthy of cheating death at Post-Human Services. Like I said, only 18 percent of our applicants qualified for our Product. That’s how Joshie intended it. Hence the Intakes I was supposed to perform. Hence the Language Cognition tests and the essays on outliving your children. Hence—the whole philosophy. Now they were going to bestow immortality on a bunch of fat, glossy Dubai billionaires who bought a Staatling Property “TRIPLEX Living Unit”?

I was about to start a healthy diatribe on the Subject of Everything (I think Eunice likes it when I teach her new stuff) when I noticed a familiar squiggle on the corner of the sign.

In a stenciled, bleeding-edge style that had been cool at the turn of the century, I saw—no, it couldn’t be!—an arty reproduction of Jeffrey Otter, my inquisitor at the U.S. Embassy in Rome, in his stupid red-white-and-blue bandana, a smudge of what could have been a cold sore on his hairy upper lip. “Oh,” I said, and actually backed away.

“
Kokiri?
” Eunice asked. “What’s up, nerd-face?”

I made a breathing sound. “Panic attack?” she asked. I put up my hand to indicate a “time-out.” My eyes ran up and down the graffito as if I were trying to scrub it into a different dimension. The otter stared back at me: curved, oddly sexual, pregnant with life, the fur smoothed into little charcoal mounds clearly warm and soft to the touch. It reminded me of Fabrizia. My betrayal. What had I done to her? What had
they
done to her? Who had drawn this? What were they trying to tell me? I looked at Eunice. She was using my forty-second pause to bury her head into her äppärät. What was I even doing with this sleek digital creature? I felt, for the first time since her arrival in my life, truly mistaken.