the group and lead the way to the new house .
—Why’d you lie to everybody, baby?
—So I could tell you the truth.
—I don’t like the difference you’re making between me and them.
—You think I’m using you.
—I know you’re using me. I just don’t know what you’re using me for, exactly.
—I want the truth to be something we have just between the two of us.
—I don’t think the truth works that way.
—I want them all to think that cop is my friend.
—But he’s not.
—No one’s gonna find out.
—They’ll find out eventually.
—Only if you tell.
—No. They’ll find out no matter what. The truth wants to be found out.
—The truth doesn’t want anything. It’s a description we give to words. Like, “that sounds sad.” “That sounds angry.” “That sounds truthful.”
—We have different points of view on this one.
—What’s your point of view?
—I think sadness, anger, and especially truth—I think they represent the spirit of the event or the person the words describe. I’m sad you’reseparating me out from everybody else by lying to ’em. They’re gonna hear that sadness every time I keep your secret.
—You want me to lie to you, too?
—I want you to separate me out by doing something nice for me. Pick me some fucking flowers. Steal me a necklace or something. Don’t just take me aside and whisper to me. Don’t just play bullshit games with traded shirts so everybody knows I let you fuck me.
—Everybody knows ’cause you’re shouting.
—That’s just the spirit of the truth trying to make itself heard.
18
Bobert and Tom bring up the rear as the group wends its way to the new house .
—What was the name of that street we just passed?
—I dunno. But that dog likes you. Every time you talk he looks up at you.
—I like him, too.
—What are you gonna name him?
—I’m not gonna name him anything. I think it’s disrespectful.
—How is giving a dog a name disrespectful?
—I don’t want to talk about the dog. I want us to pay attention to the route we’re taking.
—We’re going west.
—No. You have to pay more specific attention to the little details, the address numbers, the style of mailboxes they prefer, the flowers they’re trying to grow in the gardens.
—The little corners of the curtains getting peeled back to watch a pack of crusty freaks walk by.
—Where?
—The little blue house over there with the gnome by the front door.
—Oh, did you see her drop the corner when I looked? That’s good. The little details you notice are bread crumbs you can use to find your way back home.
—I don’t want to get home.
—I mean to find me, to find the rest of us.
—Why should we be separated?
—It happens sometimes.
—Not for long.
—You weren’t there when Malcolm was smashing up my game.
—That game belonged to everybody. Now none of us can play it. So that’s something Malcolm did to all of us.
—But you weren’t there. So it’s something Malcolm did to me.
—I’ll stick with you.
—Anquille is sticking with me, too.
—Then where is he now? I don’t see him.
—He’s trying to stay close to Malcolm. He’s trying to hear what Malcolm hears and what he says. That’s how Anquille is sticking close to me. It doesn’t have to be physical.
—What do you want me to do?
—I want you to pay attention to the route we’re taking.
—All right.
—I think we’re going the wrong way.
—What do you mean?
—These houses are getting fancier and fancier.
—We’re moving up in the world. That’s how it works.
—I don’t want to move into a fancy neighborhood.
—Why not? Nicer neighborhood means nicer house. Nicer vide games. Nicer couches for you to sleep on. Nicer pantries for me. Nicer towels.
—We stick out in this neighborhood.
—So.
—I hate that feeling. All the neighbors looking at us through their blinds. If we walk into a store in this neighborhood everybody’s going to think we’re
—Why’d you lie to everybody, baby?
—So I could tell you the truth.
—I don’t like the difference you’re making between me and them.
—You think I’m using you.
—I know you’re using me. I just don’t know what you’re using me for, exactly.
—I want the truth to be something we have just between the two of us.
—I don’t think the truth works that way.
—I want them all to think that cop is my friend.
—But he’s not.
—No one’s gonna find out.
—They’ll find out eventually.
—Only if you tell.
—No. They’ll find out no matter what. The truth wants to be found out.
—The truth doesn’t want anything. It’s a description we give to words. Like, “that sounds sad.” “That sounds angry.” “That sounds truthful.”
—We have different points of view on this one.
—What’s your point of view?
—I think sadness, anger, and especially truth—I think they represent the spirit of the event or the person the words describe. I’m sad you’reseparating me out from everybody else by lying to ’em. They’re gonna hear that sadness every time I keep your secret.
—You want me to lie to you, too?
—I want you to separate me out by doing something nice for me. Pick me some fucking flowers. Steal me a necklace or something. Don’t just take me aside and whisper to me. Don’t just play bullshit games with traded shirts so everybody knows I let you fuck me.
—Everybody knows ’cause you’re shouting.
—That’s just the spirit of the truth trying to make itself heard.
18
Bobert and Tom bring up the rear as the group wends its way to the new house .
—What was the name of that street we just passed?
—I dunno. But that dog likes you. Every time you talk he looks up at you.
—I like him, too.
—What are you gonna name him?
—I’m not gonna name him anything. I think it’s disrespectful.
—How is giving a dog a name disrespectful?
—I don’t want to talk about the dog. I want us to pay attention to the route we’re taking.
—We’re going west.
—No. You have to pay more specific attention to the little details, the address numbers, the style of mailboxes they prefer, the flowers they’re trying to grow in the gardens.
—The little corners of the curtains getting peeled back to watch a pack of crusty freaks walk by.
—Where?
—The little blue house over there with the gnome by the front door.
—Oh, did you see her drop the corner when I looked? That’s good. The little details you notice are bread crumbs you can use to find your way back home.
—I don’t want to get home.
—I mean to find me, to find the rest of us.
—Why should we be separated?
—It happens sometimes.
—Not for long.
—You weren’t there when Malcolm was smashing up my game.
—That game belonged to everybody. Now none of us can play it. So that’s something Malcolm did to all of us.
—But you weren’t there. So it’s something Malcolm did to me.
—I’ll stick with you.
—Anquille is sticking with me, too.
—Then where is he now? I don’t see him.
—He’s trying to stay close to Malcolm. He’s trying to hear what Malcolm hears and what he says. That’s how Anquille is sticking close to me. It doesn’t have to be physical.
—What do you want me to do?
—I want you to pay attention to the route we’re taking.
—All right.
—I think we’re going the wrong way.
—What do you mean?
—These houses are getting fancier and fancier.
—We’re moving up in the world. That’s how it works.
—I don’t want to move into a fancy neighborhood.
—Why not? Nicer neighborhood means nicer house. Nicer vide games. Nicer couches for you to sleep on. Nicer pantries for me. Nicer towels.
—We stick out in this neighborhood.
—So.
—I hate that feeling. All the neighbors looking at us through their blinds. If we walk into a store in this neighborhood everybody’s going to think we’re
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