The words were out of my mouth before I knew I was saying them, and Lil, 15 percent of my age, young enough to be my great-granddaughter; Lil, my lover and best friend and sponsor to the Liberty Square ad-hocracy; Lil turned white as a sheet, turned on her heel and walked out of the kitchen. She got in her runabout and went to the Park to take her shift.
I went back to bed and stared at the ceiling fan as it made its lazy turns, and felt like shit.
CHAPTER 5
When I finally returned to the Park, 36 hours had passed and Lil had not come back to the house. If she’d tried to call, she would’ve gotten my voicemail—I had no way of answering my phone. As it turned out, she hadn’t been trying to reach me at all.
I’d spent the time alternately moping, drinking, and plotting terrible, irrational vengeance on Debra for killing me, destroying my relationship, taking away my beloved (in hindsight, anyway) Hall of Presidents and threatening the Mansion. Even in my addled state, I knew that this was pretty unproductive, and I kept promising that I would cut it out, take a shower and some sober-ups, and get to work at the Mansion.
I was working up the energy to do just that when Dan came in.
“Jesus,” he said, shocked. I guess I was a bit of a mess, sprawled on the sofa in my underwear, all gamy and baggy and bloodshot.
“Hey, Dan. How’s it goin’?”
He gave me one of his patented wry looks and I felt the same weird reversal of roles that we’d undergone at the U of T, when he had become the native, and I had become the interloper. He was the together one with the wry looks and I was the pathetic seeker who’d burned all his reputation capital. Out of habit, I checked my Whuffie, and a moment later I stopped being startled by its low score and was instead shocked by the fact that I could check it at all. I was back online!
“Now, what do you know about that?” I said, staring at my dismal Whuffie.