this made a huge dent in what remained of my rotten nest egg. I knew I had to get back to work somewhere soon, but I procrastinated. I had created a bit of an obstacle for myself. I had told almost everyone I knew the elaborate lie about working for some woman in Paris, traveling the world in this dream job and collecting art for an anthology she was paying me well to assist her with. I would have to tell everyone a new lie now. What would I say happened to my dream job? I certainly couldn’t tell my old boss at Spoleto the truth: I had smuggled drugs, I was too afraid to go back, and I was broke. No, before I begged to get my job back at Spoleto, I had to figure out my new lie, a story that would put the old lie to rest. I needed to solve this. It wouldn’t be long before I wouldn’t have money for rent.
My reconciliation with Joan was short lived—just long enough to fall back in love and move back to Northampton. She dumped me again a few weeks after my cats and I got settled in our new home. She had slept with another woman and was unclear about whether she intended to do it again. That was her noncommittal way of ending things. As long as I didn’t mind her having a girlfriend and that we wouldn’t really be having sex anymore, nothing needed to change. We could still be together. We went to see Jurassic Park with some of her friends the same night she dropped the bomb on me. When I felt an affinity with the goat tied to a post in the movie, waiting to be lunch, I left.
I didn’t feel as horrible this time—no debilitating depression or the-world-is-ending feeling. It wasn’t the same as the first breakup, where I’d had to move to another state. I liked Northampton. I had bigger problems to deal with, though, before I could focus on the simple business of living. There were still loose ends I needed to tie up. Ignoring them until they went away wouldn’t work. My sister was trying to break up with Alajeh, our boss, the Nigerian drug lord she had been sleeping with and was supposed to marry. The problem was that she still lived with friends who worked for him. I couldn’t relax until she broke up with them too.
Alajeh and his transcontinental business network totally spookedme. At first, Northampton had felt a million miles away from all of that, but more recently, I felt like he was looking over my shoulder. One night I woke in a sweaty panic. I thought he was standing by my bed while I slept—ready to pounce. But that was Dum Dum. Hester, still in Chicago, planned to make the move to Provincetown in May. I wanted her away from Chicago and her friends, several of whom were still tied up in Alajeh’s drug empire. But now I learned that Bradley and Henry were going to P-town too.
My sister had sworn it was over with Alajeh when we left Africa and I didn’t doubt her sincerity. He had been a complete jerk to her while we were there, treating her like his whore, not his fiancée, and then he’d made her carry bags of heroin home. You don’t do that to your wife-to-be. I had seen enough for myself to know that the ring he had given her was total bullshit. He never meant to marry her.
My little sister might as well have been my own daughter. We were only four years apart, but I had raised her. I’d had a little help from babysitters or our very absent mom and dad. Both our parents were professionals with demanding careers to nurture. We were like most children of the seventies, when villages really did raise children, because Mom and Dad were busy climbing the corporate ladder. I had always been the one Hester came to when she needed something. When Alajeh had treated her like his whore in front of me, I couldn’t even imagine how he treated her behind closed doors, nor did I want to. But if he hadn’t been who he was—didn’t have his little barefoot bunch of rifle-toting vagrants, voodoo spells, or hobo priests guarding his compound and tasting his food like he was royalty—I would have confronted
My reconciliation with Joan was short lived—just long enough to fall back in love and move back to Northampton. She dumped me again a few weeks after my cats and I got settled in our new home. She had slept with another woman and was unclear about whether she intended to do it again. That was her noncommittal way of ending things. As long as I didn’t mind her having a girlfriend and that we wouldn’t really be having sex anymore, nothing needed to change. We could still be together. We went to see Jurassic Park with some of her friends the same night she dropped the bomb on me. When I felt an affinity with the goat tied to a post in the movie, waiting to be lunch, I left.
I didn’t feel as horrible this time—no debilitating depression or the-world-is-ending feeling. It wasn’t the same as the first breakup, where I’d had to move to another state. I liked Northampton. I had bigger problems to deal with, though, before I could focus on the simple business of living. There were still loose ends I needed to tie up. Ignoring them until they went away wouldn’t work. My sister was trying to break up with Alajeh, our boss, the Nigerian drug lord she had been sleeping with and was supposed to marry. The problem was that she still lived with friends who worked for him. I couldn’t relax until she broke up with them too.
Alajeh and his transcontinental business network totally spookedme. At first, Northampton had felt a million miles away from all of that, but more recently, I felt like he was looking over my shoulder. One night I woke in a sweaty panic. I thought he was standing by my bed while I slept—ready to pounce. But that was Dum Dum. Hester, still in Chicago, planned to make the move to Provincetown in May. I wanted her away from Chicago and her friends, several of whom were still tied up in Alajeh’s drug empire. But now I learned that Bradley and Henry were going to P-town too.
My sister had sworn it was over with Alajeh when we left Africa and I didn’t doubt her sincerity. He had been a complete jerk to her while we were there, treating her like his whore, not his fiancée, and then he’d made her carry bags of heroin home. You don’t do that to your wife-to-be. I had seen enough for myself to know that the ring he had given her was total bullshit. He never meant to marry her.
My little sister might as well have been my own daughter. We were only four years apart, but I had raised her. I’d had a little help from babysitters or our very absent mom and dad. Both our parents were professionals with demanding careers to nurture. We were like most children of the seventies, when villages really did raise children, because Mom and Dad were busy climbing the corporate ladder. I had always been the one Hester came to when she needed something. When Alajeh had treated her like his whore in front of me, I couldn’t even imagine how he treated her behind closed doors, nor did I want to. But if he hadn’t been who he was—didn’t have his little barefoot bunch of rifle-toting vagrants, voodoo spells, or hobo priests guarding his compound and tasting his food like he was royalty—I would have confronted
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