Timothea was sleeping when Henny called back.
“Hello?”
“Timothea.”
“Yeah?”
“It’s Henny.”
“Oh, hi.”
“Are you sleeping?”
“Yes.”
“I need you to cover me in Vaseline.”
“For a hundred dollars, maybe.” Timothea was not surprised that Henny brought up the Vaseline, because he had asked her to do this special favor for him about a week prior to this phone call on her voicemail. At the time she had called him back and left this message:
“Hello, David, this is Margaret. I don’t think I have enough Vaseline.”
He left her this message:
“Mishka, I think I will be able to provide the Vaseline. Ha. Ha.”
And she, this:
“Shoo be doo be do be do.”
So now, in the late afternoon sun of her nap, she was very calm and composed when he asked this seemingly strange question.
“For a hundred dollars, maybe.”
“I need you to just cover the top half of my body. Then I need you to help me apply papier mache and then later, somehow, get it off of me without stabbing me.”
“Or with stabbing you.”
“Or with stabbing me.”
“I don’t know. I have to think about it.”
“Okay.”
“Can I call you when I’m awake?”
“I need you to cover me in Vaseline.”
“Goodbye.” Timmy hated it when Henny didn’t answer her questions. It was like he wanted to be as difficult as possible but somehow also thought it was endearing. Timmy did not feel endeared to him. She was just annoyed.
She rolled over in her bed and tried to readjust so that she could fall back asleep. She was tired, so tired. She had been out until 2:45 in the morning and then had to get up by 4:45 to work at Starbucks. Then she came home and had been trying to nap all afternoon. Her phone kept ringing: Arielle, Dacia, Mama, Tessa, Jeff, and now Henny. She didn’t think to turn it off, because what if someone had something very important to tell her? Her bed was warm, and soft, but she was in the place of consciousness that does not allow for comfort.
She let herself fall hard out of bed and hit the ground with a thump. There were bills scattered under her desk- all paid, but disorganized. A stack of CD cases propped up another scattered mess of papers- memorabilia, she called it. She stood up and felt her face frowning.
“Mmmfff.” She let a lot of air out through her nose all at once and moved toward her door. She paused to touch a strand of pearls hanging from her rack. She let her hand rest inside the long loop.
She decided there would be two stipulations to the deal if she did decide to cover Henny’s torso in Vaseline.
1. There would be no talking allowed, except by her.
2. She would get to pick the music. She had already decided on Damien Rice.
She did not think he would approve of her stipulations, but he really
did need someone to cover his torso in Vaseline, and like all forms of prostitution, there is always a price.
