The Collected Stories of Deborah Eisenberg Read Online Free PDF Page B

seconds. “He gave me his number for you. He wanted you to call him.”
    “Charlotte,” Cinder said, rolling over. “You liked him.”
    “He’s a perfectly nice man,” I snapped. “I neither liked nor disliked him.”
    “Man?” Cinder said. “He’s probably just barely gone through some puberty rite where he had to spear a sow or something.”
    “Don’t be ridiculous,” I said. “He’s studying computer engineering. And you know what, Cinder? You’re a racist—”
    “Racist!” she said. “Now, where is that coming from?”
    “That’s right,” I said, “you think you can say these idiotic things about him because he’s a Puerto Rican. You don’t take him seriously because he’s a Puerto Rican—”
    “It is not because he’s a Puerto Rican!” she said.
    “Not because he’s a Puerto Rican,” Mitchell echoed, and Cinder and I swiveled at the sound of his voice. “Not because he’s a Puerto Rican. Because he’s like a Puerto Rican. He’s a Cuban.”
    “Cuban!” Cinder and I said in unison.
    “At least, that’s what he told me,” Mitchell said. “When we were waiting for Cinder.” Mitchell’s eyes moved from Cinder to me and back again while we stared at him. His face looked white and slippery, like a bathroom tile. “Hector,” he said finally. “You mean the guy who was here before. The Cuban.”
    “The Cuban!” Cinder whooped. “That’s right—the Cuban, Charlie! Who’s the racist now, huh?”
    “Why don’t you get off the floor?” I said. “You’re getting stuff all over that dress.”
    “Come on, Charlotte,” Cinder said, but she stood up, and for an instant she looked terribly uncertain. “I really don’t see why you’re getting so crazy about this. This is just funny. ”
    Funny, I thought. It was funny.
    But it wasn’t that funny. “There isn’t a thing wrong with that dress, is there?” I said. “Besides—” I took a breath. “Hector didn’t think I looked like a dinosaur skeleton—”
    “Dinosaur skeleton?” Cinder said. “What on earth are you talking about, Charlotte? Why would anybody think you look like a dinosaur skeleton? I really don’t know what your problem is. You act like everyone’s trying to kill you. You sit there with your mouth open and your finger in your nose like you don’t know anything and you can’t understand anything and you can’t do anything and you want me to tell you what’s going on all the time. But that’s not what you want at all. You don’t really care what I think. You don’t care what Mitchell thinks. You just like to make people think you’re completely pathetic, and then everyone feels absolutely horrible so you don’t really have to pay any attention to anybody. You’re like one of those things that hang upside down from trees pretending to be dead so no one will shoot it! You’re an awful friend!”
    I stared at Cinder.
    Good heavens, yes.
    But it was too late for me to do anything about being a bad friend. I stared and stared at Cinder’s unhappy little face, and then I grabbed my suitcase from the closet and started sweeping things into it from the shelves. Oh, and Mr. Bunder! Hector! Cinder was right. I flooded with shame.
    “Charlotte—” Cinder said, but there was nothing else I needed to know, and I scooped my stuff off the shelves and threw it into my suitcase as if I’d been visited by a power. “Charlotte—I’m sorry. I just meant you have a low self-opinion. You should try to be more positive about yourself.”
    “You’d better see if Mitchell’s all right,” I said, glancing around to see if there was anything I’d forgotten. “I don’t think he is.”
    “Mitchell,” Cinder said, “are you all right?”
    “I just don’t feel like talking right now,” Mitchell said.
    “Oh, great,” Cinder said. “What a great evening. One friend crashing around like Joan Crawford, and the other fried to a fucking crisp. Come on, Charlotte. Just let’s calm down and put your