Maybe it was too much to ask for. Too much to ever want. I wasn't sure who I was, or where I was. I often had that problem.
A smooth stream of smoke poured out of my mouth into the night air. A slight pollution on my part, but mostly just to my lungs. Whatever. It didn't matter.
He was inside. In his bed.
The bed that we had just shared together.
I thought it was wrong, but I couldn't be sure.
I remembered where I was. Everything slowly came into focus.
I was at Will's apartment.
Where was Grace?
She must not be home.
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She went out for a smoke. She must not be half as drunk as I am, because she walked a straight line out of my room.
But then again, she's had a lot more practice being drunk than I have.
This couldn't be love. No, not at all. This didn't resemble my version of love in any way.
Running into each other in a crowded bar.
Making out in a cab playfully and having cheap casual sex?
Well, not really cheap...
It WAS casual, but what kind of sex isn't?
God, I swear I'm gay, but man oh man.
Ugh, what was I thinking? Karen? Karen Walker? Yes, Karen.
She's having a smoke on MY balcony.
Don't they smoke after good sex?
It was good, wasn't it? I mean, i don't remember wanting it to stop, or even slow down.
But Will? Will Truman? My boss's gay best friend? Seriously Karen?
I need another cigarette.
Will walked out onto the balcony and the sight before him took his breath away by his surprise.
Wrapped in a sheet was Karen Walker.
Smoke pouring out of her mouth.
He bummed one and she lit it for him.
He didn't smoke.
To their dismay something happened that night. It was more than sex. It was more than a hook up between two lonely people. It was something that was irreversible. Unchangeable. It might not have been for the better, but they were both changed, changed for good.
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Make-up. I need make-up. God I probably look hideous.
I walk up to Will.
"Wilma, can I use your bathroom?"
He was taken aback by my comment.
"Do you have to call me that Karen? We just had sex."
"No shit," was all I could say back.
This was a mistake. It had to be a mistake. Why did I want to hug him and just let him hold me until we both fell asleep? This wasn't normal. Usually I wanted to get out of there before anyone remembered who it was they had just had an encounter with. I'm not unforgettable.
He nodded to me and i took my purse and my sloppy pile of clothing into the bathroom.
I stared at the mirror.
I've always hated mirrors.
Mirrors show everything you can try to ignore.
It sees things other people ignore as well.
Like a bruise under your left eye.
Like your runny nose from one too many lines.
Like the bags under your eyes from two whole hours of sleep.
Now, I'm not one to complain, but when I take a long hard look in the mirror, I can't help but feel helpless, and hopeless.
Ugly.
Miserable.
And forever, strung out.
I brush my hair away from my face.
I run cold water and splash it on my face. Fuck.
Cold water is a bitch.
I look back up at myself. Water drips from my eyebrows. Down my cheeks.
No one could tell if I'd been crying.
Not even Will.
Not even the mirror.
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God it feels like she's been in that bathroom for hours. How long has it been? Oh ya, three minutes.
Is she upset? Is she trying to find an excuse to get the hell out of here?
Is it wrong to ask her to stay?
I just want her to stay.
I don't want her to cry anymore.
She's so strung out.
Does she think I don't notice?