Siri, Who Am I?

by Sam Tschida

  “Next thing I know, he lets the snake out. It slithers out and he does some sort of ‘snake charming’ shit, which was, like, nothing. That snake didn’t give a damn about him. Him and his buddies laughed like a bunch of idiots and forgot about it. I asked for a ride home and he was like, ‘Later, baby.’ ”

  “What an idiot.”

  “You’re telling me.” She shakes her head, her eyes still big and her expression grim. “An hour later, the python wrapped itself around one of the other guys—Pedro, I think. Pedro was high as fuck, pretty much passed out. The snake just wrapped itself around him. I started screaming and yelling and some of the homies all freaked out. Kobra tried to get the snake off him with some sort of magic.”

  She shook her head.

  “Did Pedro live?”

  “I don’t think so. I didn’t wait to find out. I ran out of there. It ain’t a good neighborhood late at night, but…I didn’t trust that motherfucker.”

  No wonder Kobra was looking for her.

  She stops talking and the sounds of Walmart fill the void, including a woman yelling at her kid that he can’t have more candy. The whole scene feels surreal.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “You should be. I thought you knew these guys.”

  “I’m sorry. I don’t know what to say. But, I swear, you’ll love Jules. He’s not a drug dealer, and his business is legitimate.”

  Crystal looks like she’s teetering on the edge, and then my phone pings with a text. Bitch, you owe me.

  Could Kobra sense that we were talking about him? I look wildly around the Walmart, completely paranoid.

  Owe you what?

  Crystal and Max stare at me. I look at them evenly and smile. “Are we ready to go?”

  CHAPTER

  NINETEEN

  We are not ready to go. I guess I’m not surprised that Crystal doesn’t trust me to set her up on another date given what a disaster the last one was. She’s lying back in a patio chair in the gardening section like she doesn’t want to get out of it. Like she just needs a damn break. Don’t we all. As soon as I get Crystal out the door, I’m going to take a break. At least a little one.

  “I spent the afternoon with Jules yesterday and he’s super nice. And handsome.” I shake my head despondently. “I’m so sorry I set you up with Kobra. I don’t know how that happened.”

  “No shit, girl. I knew he was a dealer the minute I laid eyes on that fool. And not even anyone with style. A redneck meth dealer.” She shakes her head dramatically and murmurs, “Uh-uh.”

  I don’t dispute that point. Bad move, former self.

  I look meaningfully at her outfit. “Do you have anything else to wear?”

  “You got a problem with how I look?”

  “No. But you’re going out with a wealthy man who’s going to Instagram your whole date.”

  She looks up at me from her slouched position, 100 percent who gives a fuck.

  “Don’t worry. He’s just going to look cute in his underwear for you.”

  “Oh my God.” Crystal takes a deep breath. “At least I’ll get a free meal out of it.”

  Crystal has the biggest fucking chip on her shoulder in the history of chips on shoulders. Maybe another date wasn’t the best way to make her feel better about the last one.

  I’m about ready to ask the girl in aisle 5 if she wants to go on a date with Jules Spencer, the underwear mogul, when Crystal manages to drag her ass out of the patio chair. “I’m gonna go splash some water on my face.”

  I don’t know if she’s doing that to prepare for the date or to recover from talking to me.

  “I need to make a phone call,” Max says from behind a potted palm. I’d almost forgotten he was there. “Chan from the lab keeps calling. I think he might have figured something out.”

  I think Walmart just reminded him that he wants to be a scientist, but I wave him off. “See you in a minute.”

  I hurry after Crystal and see her disappear into the women’s restroom. I push through the door and knock some kid in the head. “OMG. I’m so sorry!” The little girl bounces back and then runs out of the restroom, unperturbed. I feel a pang of jealousy. Damn kids and their bouncy, resilient brains.

  Crystal is washing her hands when I walk in. I see her face reflected in the mirror and she looks bone tired. Not, like, didn’t get enough sleep tired, but tired in a way only other women can understand. When I peel off her layers of frustration and rage, I realize that she’s me. She’s everyone: trying to decide whether to give up or keep fighting.

  If I can do it, so can Crystal. And vice versa. We’re gonna girl-power our way to the end of this day. I can see in her face that she knows she doesn’t have a choice, and as she looks back at me through the mirror, she can see that I don’t have one either.

  “Crystal, I don’t know how I screwed up before. I’m so sorry for Kobra. I never should have set you up with him. I don’t know how that happened. But I learned from that mistake. Jules is a good guy. Really.”

  She sags over the sink. “I’m just so fucking tired of working doubles, taking care of kids, being late on bills.” She looks up through her false eyelashes. I notice for the first time that they have little crystals on them. “You’re paying me this time, right?”

  Am I? I don’t have a clue. “What was our arrangement?”

  “You’re supposed to pay me five grand for each date but you haven’t been delivering those checks lately. And I’m sick of trying to impress millionaires. They don’t like me, and I don’t like them.”

  Damn it.

  “I can’t trick them into thinking I’m something that I’m not. I know that’s what we talked about, but it’s not working. I’m just me. That’s all I can be.”

  What is this, an after-school special? “We’re adults, Crystal. We can be anything we want. That’s what makeup is for. And filters. And lying on resumes. And online degrees. It’s 2020. We can all be anything we want to be.”

  She hardens a little at my we’re adults comment, so I take a deep breath. “Crystal,” I say her name like a teacher trying to reach out to that one student with all the potential who won’t listen. “It’s so easy. All you have to do is try a tiny bit harder. Put on a classy dress, stand up straight, and let them know that you deserve everything.” I gesture to the dirty Walmart bathroom, the wet floor with paper towels stuck to it, the overflowing trash can. “Look, I don’t know much, but I know you deserve more than this. Convince them that you can be one of them, that you are one of them. Don’t give up.”

  A beat or two later, Crystal takes a deep breath. “You gotta pay me, though.”

  I nod. “I promise that I’ll pay you. We just have to make it through tonight.”

  When she exhales, I’m pretty sure she’s done fighting me and I say, “Let me just get you a new dress. If you’re going out with a millionaire, you’ve gotta look like a million bucks.” I brighten a little. Everyone loves a makeover. Crystal should be psyched about this.47

  We head over to the women’s clothing section. Our cart barely fits between the rows of clothes, and the hangers scrape the metal rack as I flip through medium-size sundresses.

  I text Max. Where are you? Can I borrow your credit card? If she’s going to Mr. Chow’s, a new dress isn’t optional.

  He texts: You don’t have any money, do you?

  I do, but…Can I just borrow money one more time? $100 would do it. $50 even.

  Last time.

  “Ooh, what do you think about this one?” It’s body-con and bright pink. It’d be a show-stopper, at least until it shrinks in the wash and fades. Walmart clothes are basically one-use items, according to NPR, which apparently I listen to when I’m not shoplifting.

  “Is he dressing up for me?” she asks.

  “Of course he is.” At least he will be wearing his very best under
wear. “You know who he is, right?” I ask.

  “I was joking,” she says.

  I pull up Jules’s Instagram. I see that he’s already posting about the date and hashtagging GoldRush. I feel like I’m careening past the pit of total failure on two wheels, burning rubber and trying to make a full turnaround.

  “He posted a few stories about his date prep.” I show her a video of Jules deciding between a pair of purple underwear and green underwear, captioned Hot date tonight on the West Coast. #GoldRush. “How cute is that?”

  She leans back and folds her arms over her chest. “For real?”

  I don’t show her the next post. Jules is mugging for the camera making the only face he knows how to make: sexy. It’s captioned, Can’t wait to meet my angel. She plays the harp.

  Crystal still doesn’t look excited but she agrees to try on a simple, classy sundress and some strappy sandals that will look nice the first couple of times she wears them, until the shiny fake patent leather peels off. I fill the cart with anything I can imagine someone wearing on the red carpet—jewelry that isn’t emoji-based, sexy heels, a few more dresses.

  “Just change into whatever you want to wear and we’ll pay on the way out.” My whole life is riding on this date. I will buy any crap that gives this date a fighting chance. Well, Max will.

  I don’t ask if she has an employee discount. It might give away the fact that I don’t have $5,000 to pay her. Not that I’m going to stiff her, but no one is getting paid until I have some money.

  While she’s changing, Jules posts again. This time it’s a screenshot of him making a duck face and a snap of Crystal that I must have sent him. It’s Crystal when she’s not at Walmart, and she looks pretty damn good. She’s all pouty lips, smoky eyes, and a little black dress.

  Crystal walks out of the dressing room looking 100 percent more like her picture. She’s a total knockout, like Walmart should definitely hire her to do all of their ads immediately. That’s when I know I’m a genius. Jules would be fucking lucky to go out with this woman. “Can I snap a pic of you?” I ask. Time to start hyping up the date from my end. I mean, that’s what this is all about, right?

  I post a photo and tag Jules.

  “I don’t know. I don’t like this dress,” she says.

  “It looks awesome.”

  “I just feel weird. Kai has a cold. I’m supposed to work at the club tomorrow. What the fuck am I even doing?”

  “You can do this, Crystal.”

  From the look she gives me, I know that all of her thoughts have coalesced. Her inarticulate feelings of despair and apathy have hardened into some kind of resolve. Dear God, please make Crystal go on this date. Sorry if I’ve been a bitch my whole life. Sorry about Kobra. But please! I NEED THIS.

  Crystal gives me a weird look. “Have you ever asked yourself why you’re doing this, Mia?”

  I give her a panic-stricken look. I’m losing her. What am I going to do? While I watch her walk back to the dressing room, JP texts me.

  When are you gonna be home? I miss you!

  Miss you too! Home soon.

  K. I’ll wait up.

  Maybe don’t.

  Crystal walks out of the dressing room in her work outfit, her hands on her hips. “I’ll go. But I’m going like this. Take it or leave it.”

  I shut my eyes against reality for a second. Crystal doesn’t understand. All I need to do is get through this date. If it goes well and Jules hypes GoldRush and I snag just a few more customers, I’ll be back in the money. I will be able to pay everything off.48 My life is riding on this. If she shows up in this outfit, I’m financially doomed—and potentially going to prison.

  It’s time to come clean. “I paid Jules one hundred grand to go on this date and post about it,” I say.

  Crystal’s eyes go crazy big. With her eyeliner and all the fake lashes she looks like a cartoon. “What?”

  “You heard me.”

  “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

  “Honestly, you’re not wrong to ask that. I can’t go into it now but I spent every last dime on this and I’ll never get out of this hole without your help.”

  She laughs. “So how are you paying me?”

  Fuck. I shouldn’t have told her. “I don’t have any money left, but as soon as I do, I’ll make it up to you.”

  I run my hands through my hair. She’s going to use this to get more out of me. To wring me dry.49

  “Well, my price just went up. If you want me to put on the dress it’ll be ten grand. For five grand, you’re getting a single mama in sweatpants and a Walmart apron.”

  I shake my head. “I’ll take you in the uniform. I’ll wait by the front door while you get your things.”

  I hope Jules has a sense of humor. I shoot a quick text to Max. Where are you?

  Went to get the car.

  Thank God for Max.

  When Crystal emerges from the locker room, her purse is the size of a diaper bag. In fact, it is a diaper bag—an old one, all dirty on the bottom from being set down on the floor. And she looks tired and angry. This is going to go really well.

  “So, about my Kai,” she says. “We need to pick him up. Then can you drop him by my mom’s?”

  I sigh. I’m completely out of leverage. “Yeah. Let’s just get to the car.”

  * * *

  We end up picking Crystal’s kid up from a friend’s house, a third-floor walkup not far from Walmart. I watch her haul the kid down a flight of stairs in a giant car seat that bangs against her leg with every stair she descends. A diaper bag slung over her shoulder provides a counterbalance to the car seat that looks too big to carry. Plus the apron. Nothing about this scene is Instagrammable.

  She plugs him into the back seat of the Ferrari, which looks as wrong as it sounds, and says, “Let’s roll.”

  The date was supposed to start thirty minutes ago and we still have to get to her mom’s to drop off the baby. Kai is cute, but he’s a baby, and by baby, I mean small human-shaped obstacle to goal achievement and financial stability. No offense, kid.50

  Halfway down Long Beach Boulevard, Kai starts crying. Crystal looks at Max and says, “Do something. Shake a toy, talk to him. Don’t just sit there.”

  Max looks about as good with kids as I am.

  “Hello, Kai. My name is Max.”

  Kai keeps crying. Max shrugs and pulls out his phone.

  “Max, what are you doing?” I say. “Stop looking at your phone and hand it to the baby!”

  Crystal gives me an approving nod. “Listen to your girl.”

  I look at my phone. Jules has posted a picture of himself looking sad and waiting for his princess.

  On her way! Car trouble, I text.

  Pin me location. Coming.

  As soon as we get to Crystal’s mom’s, I drop a pin. I’m too tired for pretense and Jules is on the payroll anyway. Come get her!

  After passing off baby Kai and the diaper bag for the night, the three of us sit on the curb like teenagers with nothing to do and nowhere to be. Crystal kicks her feet out and tips her head back.

  Jules rolls up in a stretch limousine like it’s prom night.

  I’m in an ’80s movie and Crystal is playing the part of Molly Ringwald. Max and I are her misfit friends. He’s the nerd and I’m…the one going through an identity crisis, whichever friend that is.

  Jules hops out of the back looking just as good as the guy at the end of every John Hughes movie. Perfectly imperfect. He’s not wearing a tux but he’s in something better and cooler—something Instagrammable.

  Crystal, despite herself, glows. How could she not? She just got off her double shift at Walmart. Her mom is watching her kid and Jules is a real-life rom-com hero.

  Her exhaustion evaporates, or, rather, her hopelessness. This is just what she needs: someone to take her out and
treat her like a queen for a night. I sigh with relief because at this moment I know that Jules is up to the task.

  She smooths her hair back and slides on some lip gloss in a hurry. Bet she’s regretting wearing her Walmart outfit. I try not to gloat. Jules walks over and gives her a hand to help her off the curb.

  At this moment, I know why I went into matchmaking. They’re so beautiful together. He doesn’t even flinch at her Walmart apron or the fact that she doesn’t meet all of his specifications. Thank God he’s not an idiot. Crystal smiles at me and whispers, “Okay, you did good this time.”

  She turns to him. “I’m sorry, I just got off work,” she explains.

  Jules says, “That’s cool. Me too.”

  “You have a reservation for two at Mr. Chow’s. Give them JP’s name, Jules!”

  Jules waves at me without taking his eyes off of Crystal.

  They drive off, leaving Max and me on the curb in descending twilight. Finally, something went right. I might not have woken up to a pristine fairy tale, but I think I just gave one to Crystal. I hope.

  47 If anyone needs a makeover, it’s me.

  48 Looks like I’m a gambler.

  49 Bummer for me but hats off to Crystal. R.E.S.P.E.C.T.

  50 Not a natural mother.

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY

  With Crystal accounted for and on a date with Jules, Max and I just sit on the curb and embrace the emptiness because what else is there? I can’t remember. It’s that moment after you’ve finished bingeing a show and you can’t remember who you are or why anything matters. I feel like I’ve been looking for Crystal my entire life.

  “I think it’s time for me to go home,” Max says.

  At those words my heart starts beating out of control. “What do you mean?” Max can’t leave me. Not now.

  “I haven’t changed my mind, Mia. You can’t keep me on hold while you decide whether or not to be with JP.”

  Why not? That seems reasonable to me.