Issue 22 - 1992

Coe Review • Issue 22
“They came in with a stolen ashtray!” Jenny screamed.
“Maybe they wouldn’t steal from you, but they don’t know me. Far
as I’m concerned, you can forget about me if you ever see them
again. Sometimes I hate you so much. I don’t know why I ever hung
around with you. You don’t ever care about me. You think your
criminal friends are more important. Top of everything else, I bet
you’re glad they stole my wallet and keys. I’m telling you, I don’t
ever want to see those bad girls again.”
“Jenny,” I began, but she hit me and said, “Don’t say ‘Jenny’
like that to me! They have my wallet and my keys. What am I
supposed to do now; I want you to look all over the house again.
Look through the trash. Maybe somebody threw the stuff away by
mistake. I’m not gonna be able to sleep tonight.”
We did not find the blue wallet.
“I told you they were like that,” Jenny said. “You better
promise me right now that you’re never gonna see those skinheads
anymore.”
“No,” I said.
“Then you’re not gonna see me anymore,” Jenny said, tears
rolling down her plump golden cheeks. Jenny did not mean exactly
what she had said; she meant only the worst thing that she could
think of.
10
“At first I thought they were really funny,” said my flatmate
Martin, preparing to embrace the views of his class. “But then I
decided they were kind of frightening when I realized that they were
serious.”
“I don’t think they did it,” I said.
But Martin was certain that they had.
11
There are times when you know that something is not right
anymore or that something is over, but with that knowledge comes a
sick premonition of what it will mean to you, as if you suddenly
realized that the ground was dissolving under you, and under that
was darkness and dirt and crawling bugs, and you want the comfort
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