The Paris Review - Fall 2016

“Leslie, come help me,” Kim said. She hooked Leslie’s arm through hers
and went outside. The man was sprawled to the left of the door, his head
resting on his outstretched arm, which extended into the entranceway.
“Sir,” Kim yelled. “I’m sorry but you need to move now, okay?”
He grunted and shifted slightly, revealing a puddle of urine.
“Sir, we don’t want to call the police, but you have to move now.”
“No cops,” he muttered. He opened his eyes and fixed them unfocusedly
on Leslie. She told herself that she understood this, sympathized with it. She
knew what it was like to have done too much, to be out of control. She also
knew, or suspected, at least, that this really wasn’t like that and that whatever
sympathy she had for him was just pity, which she was trying to keep ahead
of disgust in her emotional calculus.
“No cops,” the man said again, and began dragging himself down the
sidewalk, leaving a trail of piss and garbage in his wake. They watched as he
resettled a few storefronts down, curling himself up in the doorway of the
closed secondhand clothing store.
“Maybe we should call the cops?” Leslie said. “I mean, fuck, jail is better
than that.”
“Probably not,” Kim said.
They went back into the store, where people were mingling and drinking
Cal’s deformed beer.
“Hey, Les, this is Megan,” Cal said. “She’s my opening act. Or rather, I’m
the, uh, cool-down mix to her energizing jams.”
Megan acknowledged this with a stifled laugh and shook Leslie’s hand.
Megan was unusually tall and long limbed and delicate. Leslie thought she
was raising her eyebrows ironically, but it turned out that was just how they
were all the time.
“I’m looking forward to hearing your stuff,” Leslie said.
Megan shrugged. “I think it’s good at least,” she said.
“That’s a start,” said Leslie. “What are you reading?”
“It’s kind of a reflection on . . . I don’t know.” She let out a heavy sigh.
“The body? I don’t really know what I’m doing anymore. It’s just . . . it’s really
hard, you know?” She stared down at the floor.
“I’m sure you’re going to be great,” Leslie said. “This is a very forgiving
audience.”
“Oh God,” she said. “I hope I don’t have to be forgiven for anything.”
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