The Retreat of the Magnifying Glass

Today, this Saturday morning, November 1st, All Saint’s Day, Rory’s days of losing ended. No longer would he stagger through life with the pain of a love unrequited in his heart. No longer would he scan the room desperately for a sympathetic face. No longer would he bury his head in his pillow each morning, praying the morning, the sounds of his neighbors starting their days, the world, would disappear and leave him alone. No, today he knew the happiness of acceptance—acceptance from Ireena, which had been a rare thing for her to exhibit to the men she had met in recent months.
They laid together in her bed, their arms and bodies intertwined at various points.
I was walking down Schiller St., listening to the latest Of Montreal album on my headphones, smoking a cigarette and drinking coffee. You might say I had my hands full. But I was excited, finally, I was excited again. The great hole opened up and I had slipped through. Here I was finally, free, fulfilling my obligations happily, which this morning, entailed an interview with Rory McLennan. You don’t know how happy I was to interview him for my job. Interviews are my life. Before I started compiling this comedie humaine, I had been an HR consultant. I knew people and I knew what usefulness was. But I wasn’t happy telling them what to do. No, I am not God, and I do not like choosing other people’s fates. I liked offering the interviewees jobs, but I was very bad at expressing disappointment in them. I loved telling people that I was going to take care of them, and I hated telling people that they weren’t what I was looking for.
I rang Ireena’s buzzer and she said, “Who is it?”
“It’s me,” I said, “I’m here to interview Rory,”
Ireena said something to Rory that I couldn’t make out.
“How did you know he was here?” she asked.
“I saw you two at the party last night. He said to me, ‘Today I met the girl I’m going to marry,’ even though he didn’t meet you yesterday, he met you a week earlier. He was just trying to use as many possible Nation of Ulysses references as he could. I was impressed, but will you let me up? I’m supposed to interview, and if I don’t, then my boss is going to yell at me.”
The intercom clicked and the buzzer sounded and I rushed through the two front doors before I could get locked out. I ran up the stairs quickly and knocked on her apartment door. She stood there wrapped in a bed sheet, her hair disheveled, her eye shadow faded. I must admit I felt a bit rude barging in at such an ungodly hour, but such is life. Sometimes there are things that just have to be done, no matter how uncomfortable they make you.
“Pleased to meet you, officially, Ireena,” I said to her.
“Yeah, I saw you at the party. I feel like you’re a bit of a stalker, but Rory told me to let you in, he said you were cool.”
“Really? I’m honored.”
I followed her into her bedroom. She got back under the covers with Rory. He was sitting up in the bed, shirtless, and he stuck out his hand to shake mine.
“Inauspicious circumstances for an interview,” he said, shaking my hand, “But extraordinarily appropriate in a way. Where is this going to be published?”
“Only the hippest mag in town—CS,” I said, sitting down in Ireena’s desk chair.
“Nice, so we’re going to be the toast of the city?”
“Everyone is going to read your story and everywhere you go, you’ll be recognized. Nobody is falling in love anymore. All the lonely readers will see you two, and they’ll have hope for their own futures. Love is not dead, that is the message I am trying to get across.”
Ireena scoffed. I looked at her and she gestured towards her desk, “Could you pass me that chemistry textbook?”
I gave it to her and she reached over into her top dresser drawer to take out her envelope filled with tiny baggies.
“Can I begin the interview now?” I asked them.
“What do you think I’m getting ready for?” Ireena asked.
I turned on the digital audio recorder.
“So Rory, how long have you been an independent resident of this city?” I began.
“I lived in the suburbs with my parents until I went to college. When I graduated I moved back home for six months. Then I started renting my own place in the city. So almost three years, three years next January.”
Ireena snorted a line.
“How long have you been doing cocaine?” I asked Ireena, on the record.
“Six years. I mean, I did it for the first time six years ago. I’ve been using regularly for about three though.”
“So, for the entire time Rory has been a resident of this city, you could say you were high for most of that same period?”
“Well, when I wasn’t at work. I work very hard. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t feel like it was okay to use coke. I feel like it’s okay for me to use it because I can afford it without a problem, and the guy I’ve been getting from is reliable and gives me a good deal. Work life is stressful enough as it is, and I need a little something when I get home to take the edge off. There are times when I haven’t had it, and usually I think to myself, ‘Wow, life really is meaningless,’ you know, go to work, get paid, go home, have dinner, watch TV, go to bed, repeat four times, go out and play for two days, come back and do it again, forever. But at least for me, coke is the thing that makes each day special. It makes every activity seem worthwhile. Anything requiring concentration comes more clearly. It helps me realize what I have to do, and it helps me make decisions faster. You know, I can come home from work, do a line or two, sit down at my easel and start a painting, realize that if I don’t eat I’ll have trouble falling asleep, run out to the grocery store, know the exact ingredients I need, find them quickly and logically, intuiting what section of the store the managers feel each item belongs in, pay them with a stupid smile on my face, run home, start cooking, put on some Bjork or something and scream along with it, maybe do another line, put on the TV, have dinner and watch some dumb reality show and size up the contestants and imagine myself in their shoes and think about how badly I’d blow them all away at whatever game they’re playing, turn off the TV and finish my art, then take a sleeping pill and go to bed at 10. Truly every day was special, but this was my life when I was single, and as of yesterday, I’ve got one more thing to think about, one more thing to fit into my busy schedule.”
“And one other person who only wants to make you happy,” Rory added.
“Next question,” I said, “What is your favorite thing about this city?”
“The more obscure aspects,” Rory said, “Like, you know everyone is going to say they love New York for the entire thing, or they love L.A. for the glamour, but there really is nothing special about this city, beyond the fact that it blows the living hell out of any other city in America in terms of sheer diligence and exactitude. It’s the work ethic. You see everyone and you see their definite purpose, and it is humbling. It makes you stronger. But I also enjoy how fucked up it is. Like, you’re not really safe anywhere. Okay, maybe you’re safe in a few neighborhoods, but for the most part, there’s a tension about this place that you won’t find anywhere else. You can’t get comfortable here. You stay on your toes, you stay sharp. You have to fight for what you want. There’s a shitload of people here and they don’t get the same kind of cultural definition that residents of other cities get. It’s quintessentially American. Yes, it represents the best of what America is about.”
“I like the architecture best,” Ireena said.
“Where do you see yourself in five years?” I asked Rory.
“I don’t know. Hopefully by then I’ll have been able to buy a condo, I won’t hate my job, and I’ll still be with Ireena. Hopefully my friends won’t leave. I don’t see myself making any radical changes, if that’s what you mean.”
“Are you able to pin down the moment that you two fell in love?” I asked out of the blue to both of them.
“At first sight,” Rory said, “At Ted’s party last weekend.”
“When we went out to dinner at Bin 36 on Monday night.”
“Oh that’s a great restaurant,” I said, “I love pairing wine with food, but I never know what to do! They make it so easy for you! If I were a rich man I would eat there every night!”
Rory looked at Ireena and nodded his head towards the chemistry textbook. She passed it over to him.
“Sorry, I’m not the interview here.” I said, “Let’s continue. What was it about Ireena that made you fall in love with her at first sight?”
Rory snorted a line and looked over at her. “She’s one of the most beautiful girls I’ve ever met. She’s different from other girls. She doesn’t care about all that lame shit that most girls care about. She’s not afraid to stand up to anyone. I got thrown out of Ted’s party, and she stuck up for me, and she left in protest. Thank God she gave me her number, or none of this would have happened.”
“What about you, Ireena? Why did you fall in love with Rory at dinner?”
“It was obvious that he knew how to treat a girl, but that he had no one to call his own. I couldn’t help it—he was just so cute the way he went about wooing me. So different from other guys, who are just so transparent in what they want out of you.”
I started to get nervous at that comment and I asked them if they wanted to smoke a joint with me, and Rory said he would, and Ireena said she would take a hit. So I lit it up and passed it around, all of this on record. I even asked Ireena if I could see her record collection and I put on an old Fleetwood Mac vinyl.
“Is there anything else you’d like to tell CS?” I asked, laughing.
“Socializing is fun! You should do it more often!” Rory said.
“I would like to tell everyone not to waste their breath with meaningless gab. Know what to talk about, and never be boring,” Ireena said.
I thanked them and left Ireena’s apartment and walked back towards mine, my work for Saturday done.