“Oh, I suppose it’s fine,” said Gustav, laughing. “Haven’t we discussed this?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” said Penelope. “I guess I forgot.” What a dumb conversational topic, thought Penelope. It was just sometimes when she was with Gustav she didn’t know what to talk about. Before she would hang out with him, she would sometimes try to brainstorm things to discuss. Everything she brain-stormed never went the way she thought it would.
“How do you like that champagne?” said Gustav, putting his golf club back in its case. “I am not entirely pleased with it. Perhaps it’s too dry.”
“Oh,” said Penelope. “Sure!”
Gustav sat down on the couch next to Penelope. He took off his shoes, which were brown and had tassels and holes all over them in some sort of swirly design. He smiled. Penelope smiled at him.
“In some ways I find it adorable,” said Gustav, “but you are much too agreeable, dear! I think it’s time for you to develop tastes, and standards!”
“OK,” said Penelope.
Penelope had to wait several days before she approached Emma about living with her. There never seemed to be a right time to broach the subject. Despite being in the same play and living in the same room, Penelope didn’t see Emma all that much. At play practice, Penelope was onstage, acting several parts. She was one of the puppeteers now, which was really complicated because at the last minute Henry Wills-Mather changed the puppets to marionettes, and Penelope had to watch YouTube videos to learn how to operate them, whereas Emma, in her capacity as producer, dealt with ticket stubs on a different floor. In addition, Emma had a very active social life and was constantly going to parties of one sort or another, which left little time for sincere talks.
It was while Emma was getting ready to go to one of these soirees that Penelope felt the time was right to discuss housing. Emma seemed to be in a good mood. She was looking at herself in a full-length mirror that was adhered to the back of the closet door. She was wearing some sort of large Lilly Pulitzer expanse that was knotted at the neck. Was it a sari?
Penelope sat down on her bed.
“Hi, Emma,” said Penelope.
“Oh, hey, Penelope,” said Emma. She took a compact off her bureau and started applying bronzing powder to her cheeks using a large, round brush.
“Where are you going?” asked Penelope.
“A garden party,” said Emma. “At the Owl.”
“Oh, fun,” said Penelope.
“Yeah, I think it will be,” said Emma.
“Isn’t it too cold to go in the garden?” asked Penelope.
“Oh, Penelope, it’s an ironic garden party!” said Emma. She laughed decibels into the sky. “Their real garden party is next month or something. Whatever. I have to leave early anyway.”
“Why?” asked Penelope.
Emma sighed.
“I am so swamped. Like ridiculously. Classes are ridiculous. I spent six hours in the library yesterday.”
“Wow.”
“I know,” said Emma. “I am not even half done with my work.”
“Terrible,” said Penelope.
“Not to mention all the other stuff I have to do, what with the play coming up, and Model United Nations having a conference, and like six HSA meetings, plus Current elections.”
“That is a lot of stuff,” said Penelope.
“I am incredibly stressed,” said Emma. “It is just too much for one person.”
This seemed to put Emma in a taciturn mood, which was too bad because she had just been laughing very loudly. Penelope wished she had not brought up the subject of work during such an important conversation, but had she? Homework was like a North Star that everything turned to.
Penelope took a deep breath. She figured she might as well just come out with it.
“Do you know what you are doing for housing?” she said. Emma made a loud sound, somewhere between a scream and a click.
“Well, that is what is stressing me out the most! I just feel so upset about it. My friend Beth asked me to block with her, which is fine, I guess; she is blocking with these kids who I sort of know from different things. They need like four more people. It’s not like they are super-nerdy or anything, and I like Beth, but it’s kind of like whatever. But I think Bitty and Katrina might want to block with me. In the past, when I’ve asked them about it, they have sort of said they wanted to, but now I feel like they might not anymore because from what I have heard, their blocking group is kind of full and I might not get in. But I also don’t want to offend them? By making plans? So it’s just really freaking me out.”
“Oh, wow,” said Penelope. “I mean, well, if you don’t get into that one, I was going to ask you, you know, if there is any space, for me? In the other one. If I could block with you?”
Emma looked too shocked to speak. Luckily, her metropolitan breeding enabled her to recover.
“Oh, you know, I would love that, but I think both of the other groups I want to get into are really already full. You gave me no notice! I know I said before that there was space, but now that I am thinking about it I really don’t think there is. I mean, I would love it, but I really don’t think it’s possible. I’m sorry.”
“Oh, it’s OK,” said Penelope. “I totally understand.”
“Oh, good, because, you know, I am already feeling really, really stressed out about this, and I just can’t really add to it in any way. It’s way way too much to think about this right now.”
“OK,” said Penelope.
“I am glad you understand,” said Emma.
Penelope went out into the common room and started to panic.
The next day, while en route to Dinosaurs, a new class Penelope was taking about dinosaurs to satisfy a science B requirement, she called her mother. She needed additional advice.
Penelope’s mother picked up the phone with unprecedented alacrity. It sounded like she was in the car.
“Penelope!” said Penelope’s mother.
“Oh, hi, Mom,” said Penelope.
“Where are you?” asked Penelope’s mother.
“Walking to class,” said Penelope, kicking a pinecone out of her way.
“Oh, good! Make sure you turn off your phone when you get there.”
“OK,” said Penelope. “But I keep it on silent.”
“You should turn it off. How are you?”
“I am all right,” said Penelope
“What are you doing about housing? Did you find anyone to live with yet?” asked Penelope’s mother.
“No,” said Penelope.
“Have you asked people?” said Penelope’s mother.
“I think so.”
“Is there anyone from the play?”
“No,” said Penelope.
“Is there anyone from your classes?”
“Not really,” said Penelope. She thought of Jason.
“How is that possible?” asked Penelope’s mother in a despairing but ultimately rhetorical tone. It was a tone Penelope was familiar with.
“I don’t know,” said Penelope. She was just coming to realize she really didn’t have any friends here. She didn’t know what it said about her. On the one hand, she was never particularly good at making friends, so why should this change now? On the other hand, wasn’t college the one place where even freaks made friends? That was what everybody said.
“Oh, Penelope,” said her mother. She sounded rather sad.
“It’s OK,” said Penelope.
“I know,” said Penelope’s mother, “you should just ask Lan and Emma to live with you! I bet they are looking for people to live with! Don’t be afraid to ask them. It’s the perfect solution.”
“Oh,” said Penelope. “Well, I already asked them and they said no.”
“What?” said Penelope’s mother. “Both Lan and Emma? They both said no?”
“Yes,” said Penelope.
“Why did they say no?”
“Well, they already had other plans.”
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�Well, what if you said you would join in their plans?”
“I kind of did,” said Penelope, “and they still said no.”
“That is crazy!” said Penelope’s mother.
“I know,” said Penelope.
“Are you still dating that guy?” asked Penelope’s mother.
“I guess so,” said Penelope. “It’s not really called dating anymore though.”
“Of course it is,” snapped Penelope’s mother. “Have you told him you have no one to live with?”
“Why would I tell him that?” asked Penelope.
“Because that is what people do! You should ask his advice! Maybe he has a friend you could live with. Or a younger sister.”
“What?” said Penelope. “He doesn’t have a younger sister.”
“You get what I mean,” said Penelope’s mother. “He knows people.”
“No,” said Penelope.
“You fucking asshole!” yelled Penelope’s mother. “This driving is actually really tough. I am going to have to go.”
“Oh, OK,” said Penelope.
“Don’t worry about this,” said Penelope’s mother. “But why does stuff like this always happen to you?” And with that she hung up.
“I have no one to live with,” said Penelope to Gustav. It was three in the morning and they were walking down Mount Auburn Street together. Gustav had been at a Chinese New Year party at the S—. He had texted Penelope to meet him outside the party at two thirty. Penelope had been sitting on the stoop of a nearby bookstore in the extreme cold, waiting for him. Her feet were freezing. That was the reason for the fretful honesty.
“Do you, darling? That is splendid,” said Gustav. He patted Penelope on the back. He was wearing a red Mandarin-style jacket, thin black cotton pants, and a flat straw hat. Penelope was worried he was wearing racist eyeliner but didn’t really want to look.
“Oh, but I said I didn’t,” said Penelope.
“What, darling?” said Gustav. He wasn’t paying attention to Penelope. He was texting something on his phone.
“How was the party?” asked Penelope.
“Oh, marvelous,” said Gustav, putting his phone in his pocket. “We even had an inflatable Chinese man that we set up in the game room.”
“Wow,” said Penelope.
“Do you want to get anything to eat?” asked Gustav.
“I don’t really know if you should wear that in a restaurant,” said Penelope.
Gustav laughed loudly.
“You are too funny, darling.” He put his arm around Penelope and steered her in the direction of his dorm. “Well, we can just go home then. Why ever would I not wear this to a restaurant?”
Gustav’s dorm was conveniently close to all the clubs. The walk there was very short.
“Really, I do love theme parties,” continued Gustav, holding the door of his dorm open for Penelope. “They are so fun. I plan to host bunches of them, even when I am an adult!”
“Oh, really?” said Penelope as they walked up the stairs. “That is interesting. What themes?”
“I went to one back in London that was called ‘The Worst Men in History.’ All my old chums from school were there. It was great fun.”
“Who did you go as?” asked Penelope. They were inside Gustav’s room. Penelope sat on Gustav’s bed. He had recently changed the sheets from a blue piped monogram to a green piped monogram.
“Oh, dear, I forget,” said Gustav, taking off his straw hat and laying it on his desk. “Something German, I’m sure.”
“Oh,” said Penelope. “I went to a party once here that was Peter Pan themed.”
“Well, isn’t that odd,” said Gustav. He sat on the bed next to Penelope. He put his arm around her. “Why would the theme be a book? Themes should really be aphorisms or holidays, like Chinese New Year.”
“It was a terrible party,” said Penelope.
“Penelope, Penelope, Penelope,” said Henry Wills-Mather. With each iteration of her name, his tone had become louder and more aggrieved. This was one of the first times Henry Wills-Mather had ever addressed Penelope directly. She did not feel distinguished by the notice.
“Penelope, just put down your marionette,” whispered Catherine, who was sitting right next to her, also holding a marionette. They were situated in the midsized marionette stage that Lan had designed for Act 3’s puppet show. This stage alone was thought to cost upward of three thousand dollars, as Lan had employed the highest quality in marionette technology. Penelope put the marionette down. It clattered as it hit the floor.
“Penelope, do you know why I stopped you?” asked Henry Wills-Mather.
“Uh,” said Penelope.
“I stopped you because—what does your marionette look like?”
“My marionette?” asked Penelope.
“Yes,” said Henry Wills-Mather. He looked at her expectantly.
“Well, I think this is supposed to represent Caligula.”
“Exactly!” said Henry Wills-Mather as if he had scored some point of contention. “And what does it look like now?”
“I don’t know,” said Penelope.
“It just looks too much like a marionette, Penelope. It’s incredibly stiff. I need it to mimic the fluidities of human motion as much as possible while, at the same time, ironically referencing the artificiality of theater itself. Do you get what I am saying?”
Penelope nodded.
“You’re just very stiff,” said Henry Wills-Mather, taking his black turtleneck by the collar and loosening it with his finger as if it were a cravat. “It’s just very puppetlike, it’s very orthodox, it’s very puppet show, puppet show. Oh God.” He sat on a chair in the audience section and put his head in his hands.
Henry Wills-Mather was really starting to lose it, according to everyone. As the day of the play grew nearer, he would fly into unaccountable rages and misplace his car keys over and over (they were always in the piano). To a certain extent, Penelope understood this. The play was only a couple of weeks away. It was insanely over budget because of the marionettes. Very few people knew their lines, and they had still not found a replacement for Craig.
“Where’s Bitty?” asked Henry Wills-Mather in a strangled voice. “Where is she?”
“Emma said she would be here soon,” said Rattailed Caligula. He was sitting underneath the piano doing a problem set.
“Goddamn it, how can we teach the puppeteers how to mimic her movements if she is not here?”
“I don’t know,” said Rattailed Caligula, not looking up.
“He didn’t say anything about my marionette, did he?” whispered Catherine in a worried manner.
“No,” said Penelope.
“Good,” said Catherine. “I didn’t think he did. I was just making sure.”
“OK,” said Penelope. “I’m going to go to the bathroom.”
Catherine made her marionette wave good-bye to Penelope, and Penelope waved good-bye back to the marionette. She had been warmer than usual since she had realized Penelope was dating someone. Penelope admired Catherine’s certainty about this fact.
Penelope walked out of the theater and toward the bathroom, which was in the basement. Just as she was about to turn down the stairs, she heard a familiar voice emanating from the courtyard outside. She paused and listened.
“Bitty, dear, I have things to do and people to see. I can’t always be walking you everywhere just because you say so in some kind of wheedling voice.”
“Oh, Gustav,” said Bitty. “I can’t walk here by myself. Besides, I just need to go inside and make an appearance, then we can leave and get a drink before that party at the PC.”
“Ten minutes,” said Gustav.
“Not even!” said Bitty.
At this point, Penelope made a spur-of-the-moment decision. Instead of continuing down the stairs and going to the bathroom, she decided to go outside and “accidentally” run into Gustav and Bitty. This was perhaps motivated by natural curiosity, although normally Penelope was rath
er deficient in that. In any case, she walked toward the door to the courtyard and opened it. Unfortunately, this was just the moment when Gustav and Bitty were coming inside, which resulted in all of them colliding in the door frame. Penelope walked right into the middle of Gustav’s chest. She was worried she kissed it accidentally.
“Oh, sorry,” said Penelope without looking up. Her new plan was to pretend that although she had just run into Gustav (literally), she hadn’t seen him because she was looking at the ground at the time. She was going to continue out the door when Gustav stopped her by grabbing her arm.
“Penelope, darling, what on earth are you doing here?” said Gustav. He seemed genuinely surprised to see her. “Why are you going outside with just a T-shirt on?”
“Oh, I have to get something,” muttered Penelope vaguely.
“Well, at least put your coat on before you get it,” said Gustav. “It’s rather a tundra out there.”
“OK,” said Penelope.
Gustav was wearing a pale gray coat with a shearling collar and cuffs. Bitty was also wearing a shearling coat and a Russian-style hat. They looked like matching KGB agents. Gustav took Penelope by the arm and led her into the lobby. He, she, and Bitty stood in a triangle. Penelope stifled an embarrassed laugh.
This was when she realized that natural curiosity, so revered in some societies, had led her to a terrible social impasse. Although she and Gustav were practically dating (dating, hooking up, friends?), protocol for these daylight situations was as yet unclear. Since that time in the library, she had not seen him when the sun was out. If you ran into such a person by accident, how were you supposed to act? Like you loved them? Like you hated them? Like you didn’t know them at all?
“How do you two know each other?” asked Bitty. She looked at Penelope in an inquisitive way. “I know I’ve seen you before. You look so familiar to me! What’s your name? I am horrible with names.”
“Penelope,” said Penelope.
“Oh, Bitty,” said Gustav. “You know Penelope. She is a great friend of mine. You have met her before, dear. We all went to drinks together.”
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