Page 42 of Exit Party

N: Marlowe was named for a fictional detective. Samir was my husband’s grandfather’s name.

A: . . .

N: My husband? He was a revolutionary, or he wanted to be. He was secretive about it. He didn’t know that I knew. But to explain all that, I’d have to tell you about an entire world that I don’t want to think about too much. Ask me about something different.

A: . . .

N: So I retraced my steps, or tried to, but it took me until morning to find Kareem’s apartment again. I walked back up the stairs at the side of the building, and the door was unlocked, but the apartment was empty.

A: . . .

N: I guess Kareem had left by then. I know no one saw him again, you told me that in Ohio. The party had been abandoned. All the lights were on. I smelled something burning. Someone had left a candle burning in the living room, and a flower had fallen into it and caught fire, so it was kind of smouldering there, just slowly ruining the shelf it was sitting on. I put it out, and started looking around. I remember I was desperately thirsty. It took me a minute to figure out how the taps worked in the kitchen, because the design of everything was just completely different than where I’m from. I ate and drank whatever I could find. I didn’t know what I was searching for, but I kept looking. I kept walking in and out of rooms, but there was no . . . there was nothing. I wasn’t transported back. I could find no door. The empty rooms were just empty rooms.

A: . . .

N: I don’t know what I expected to find.

A: . . .

N: Well, after a while I gave up on the idea of the door reopening, for the moment. I knew it wasn’t my apartment and I had to leave, but I was desperate. You have to understand, I was in a foreign place and I had no money, nothing. I found a suitcase. All of the clothes in the apartment were men’s clothes, but Kareem wasn’t very large. I found some things I could wear. I packed them up, also some soap and shampoo from the bathroom, a towel, all the things I thought I could use. I’m not a thief. I’m not usually a thief.

A: . . .

N: Then I left with a packed suitcase. I started asking people on the street where I could go, and they kept pointing me toward a Red Cross processing centre down on Sunset Boulevard. It felt like an unsettled time. I didn’t know what had happened, but it seemed like there’d recently been a war, or some kind of social unrest. I remember signs everywhere that said RESPECT THE CURFEW, but they looked old. It felt like maybe the curfew was over. Finally late in the day, I found my way to the Red Cross, and got in line for food. I told a worker I didn’t remember where I was from, and that got me a bed in a tent for people with mental health issues. I just stayed quiet and tried to understand where I was. I woke the next morning, and I was still in the wrong world.

A: . . .

N: No, the thing I couldn’t stop thinking about was my children.

A: . . .

N: Well, you know the next part. I met a man at a DP camp, and went with him to Ohio, because, why not? I wanted to find a way to stay alive, in case I could find a way to get home somehow. I tried not to hope the door would reopen. Then I met you, there in Ohio, when you were staking me out in the parking lot.

A: . . .

N: I decided to leave my husband after that, but it took me a while to save enough money to leave him and come to Paris. I came to Paris because you told me Gloria was here.

A: . . .

N: People leave their lives scattered all over the internet. I found her within days.

A: . . .

N: How do you think she reacted? How would you react, if you met your doppelgänger? She was stunned. I’d called her and I fudged it a little, what I told her was that I’d been at that party in LA and that I knew where Kareem was, because I’m pretty sure that’s true, I’m pretty sure I actually do know where Kareem went. She agreed to meet. I told her that she might find my appearance shocking. I didn’t know how to warn her. So we met in a café, and I thought she was going to faint. She sank into the chair across from me and stared at me. I had to order for her, even though she was the one who spoke French, not me. It took her a long time to say anything.

A: . . .

N: What’s it like talking to your double? You compare notes, and you find that you have the same memories, until you don’t. The same parents, except not. It’s like a dream version of yourself.

A: . . .

N: Then I went over to her apartment, the following night. That was when I started to understand that there was something really wrong with her. There was some kind of massive demonstration in Paris the night I was supposed to come over, and I was very late. Our train stopped between stations, because protesters were on the tracks. Finally I got out and had to walk to Vincennes, because there were no taxis. Anyway, it was almost midnight when I arrived. She let me in, and there was her son. Just a little kid, watching TV alone in the dark. I found out later that he had no bedtime.

A: . . .

N: Trash. He was watching trash. Old American reality TV programming, hour after hour. He was watching Dance Moms. Gloria didn’t seem to care about him very much. It took me a while to realize how messed up she was. She has two jobs, both entirely remote, and she works the way alcoholics drink. Or maybe another way of putting it, let’s say work is the place where she hides. I’ve never seen anything like it.

A: . . .