Maxine Read Online Free PDF

Frédérique reached for an apple. This is practice. She can’t call herself Maxine in the novel, that’s why she has called her main character Frédérique. She could not, for example, should the need arise, write, And then Maxine jumped into bed with him . That’s just not appropriate. It feels unseemly. You need a different name. As soon as you have another name, it’s all right. It’s fiction then. Everyone will realize you are making it up.
    Policing your thinking is hard, though. It’s not just the third person. Maxine also tries to think only in complete sentences. Her mindscape is taken up with third-person sentences about Frédérique—these she pictures in italics—and the random and illicit bits that bounce up and have to be shushed and shown the door. Maxine doesn’t know where these bits come from. Certainly not her.
    Maxine reaches into the fish pellet package, singing to the tune of “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.” Fishie, fishie in a bowl, Die and God can have your soul. Here you go, buddy. Bon appétit . She cleans the bowl out every weekend. Rinses off the plastic fern. Maxine never wanted a fish but she won’t be responsible for one dying of neglect. Frédérique shrugged and tossed a pellet into the murky water.
    It’s usually not a good idea to let people know what your goals are. That’s what Maxine thought before the Time Management Workshop. You can’t go telling people you want a thing to happen because (a) it’s dangerously revealing of yourself and (b) it will almost certainly never happen. Wanting things is, generally, imprudent. Maxine has made some concessions. She’s decided what her goals are, and told Gail some of them. She’s let the odd one slip here and there in conversation. Soon she’ll be sprinkling her aspirations around town with a view to creating opportunities. Gail knows about the novel of course. It’s a limited-time offer, Maxine says. If it’s not finished when her money is, so what. She’ll get back into the workforce and take up scuba diving instead.
    Gail had looked skeptical about the scuba diving. She knows Maxine pretty well, having turned up in the next row of Mr. Snow’s homeroom at fourteen, and she knows Maxine lacks the temperament of the underwater adventurer. Gail’s father’s previous posting had been in Germany, so she didn’t do things the way everyone else did, but she didn’t seem to notice the sniggers and the whispers when Mr. Snow made her stand up. Mr. Snow said Well, Lahr, that must have been a fairly unique experience, and they all had a good look and then Gail said Yes and sat back down. Gail didn’t know you couldn’t wear the same shirt two days in a row even if it wasn’t dirty, but it’s no fun tormenting people who don’t give a rat’s ass, so that was short-lived.
    Maxine sits at the computer, frozen, unbreathing, in the pounding silence that follows the doorbell. There’s a lengthy pause. When she hears footsteps leading down and away, Maxine breathes and starts typing again. Barb would like to tell her something but Maxine doesn’t want to know what it is. For a second she pictures the whole door, the window, mail slot, doorframe, all covered in layers of duct tape.
    Look, Gail, these people are insane. Oh, I’m using that satsuma bubble stuff you gave me, remember? It’s really nice. Anyway. It’s almost every day. Sometimes several times a day. I don’t want to go out—they’ll see me coming home and know I’m in here. It’s been, what ten days now? Just a sec.
    Maxine holds the phone up and slides her head down under the water. She gives a quick wriggle to get her hair wet and up pops her head again like a seal’s, shining and dark. She wipes off her ear and cheek with a towel and puts the phone back.
    Are you there? Well I know they’ve had a hard