“He’s more of an asshole than we are, so we’ve got nothing to blame ourselves for. And what does he care what Lisa and I do in our spare time?”
“It was just a comment. I don’t really think he gives a damn about you.”
I should have thanked her for what she had done, but I couldn’t find the words. I hated Esther’s air of superiority. She had behaved like a proper friend, but I refused to accept that I was in her debt.
We went to class without talking. Lisa was already sitting there, looking at her nails as though she didn’t care about anything. I sat down next to her, as always.
“Everyone’s looking at us. Everyone’s jealous,” Lisa whispered.
“I don’t think so,” I replied.
“They don’t dare do the things we do, and that’s why they’re jealous,” Lisa insisted.
Paul came into the classroom and didn’t even look at us. He started to explain how to woo the people whose job it was to decide whether you got an account.
More than anything else, Paul’s classes were about how to get accounts and how to stop other people from getting them. He usually said that advertising required talent and that was not something he could teach us. “You’ve either got it or you don’t, and I don’t care whether or not you do.”
It was clear that Esther was a favorite of Paul’s. He admired her intelligence. She was capable of finding the right phrase for selling anything, whether it was soap or frozen vegetables. After Esther, I was the fastest and the cleverest when it came to thinking up a slogan. To my surprise, and to Paul’s as well, I guess, I seemed to have a knack for advertising. As for Lisa, she never managed to come up with anything. She was there because she had to be somewhere, but she didn’t care about anything that Paul was teaching us.
“Miss Ferguson,” he said to her one day, “why don’t you just give up coming to class? You know I’m going to pass you whether or not you come, and I don’t care what you do. As long as the tuition checks keep on coming. What I can’t stand is your yawning. You don’t like getting up in the mornings, and I don’t either, but I have to be here to get your money.”
“Mr. Hard, there’s nothing I would like more than not to have to come here, but for the time being I’ll keep on keeping on. I’ll try to keep my yawning down to a minimum.”
My relationship with my parents took a long time to get back on track. My father had been truly ashamed when he read in the newspapers what Lisa and I had done at the party. He, who was always so well-mannered and restrained, now found himself having to stand up for me whenever one of his friends made an expression of sympathy for the public shaming he was now having to go through. As for Lisa, she was no longer welcome in our house, and I wasn’t welcome in hers. We both knew that we had crossed a line, and that it would not be wise to impose ourselves on the other’s family.
My mother spent several days refusing to talk to me, and my father addressed me only in monosyllables. I didn’t care all that much, but it was a little awkward. After the incident our weekend lunches out in the city were canceled. I didn’t want to go, and they didn’t want me to go, so Dad and Jaime would go to exhibitions by themselves and come back home for lunch. My mother would sometimes go with them, or to the salon. I also stopped going to Newport on weekends with my family. What annoyed me most about this incident was that it seemed to have brought my parents together again.
Lisa and I would spend weekends together. We would go to a hotel and enjoy doing nothing. We would get there on Friday evening and stay until late Sunday afternoon. We walked around the city, slept until midday, and tried to find places to go where we wouldn’t have to see anyone who had anything to do with us or our families. It was at one of these places that Lisa picked up her coke habit.
The dealer was an attractive guy with broad shoulders who looked like he could do anything. His name was Mike. Some called him “Muscle Mike.” He worked in PR, if anyone could believe that a place like the club where we met him might need PR. Lisa liked him—that much was clear. She always insisted that we go to his place and looked for him as soon as we got in. When we went out on the dance floor he would come dance with us, and it was obvious that I was not needed there. They laughed, and looked at each other, and every now and then he would make a sign and they would disappear into the bathroom to do a line or two. I steered clear of all that. I didn’t want to do drugs, at least not with that guy, for all that Lisa insisted.
One night they took longer than usual to come back. I went to find her and ran into Mike. He was pushing Lisa up against the wall and her panties were down.
I didn’t even get angry. I realized I didn’t care. When Lisa came back she looked at me defiantly.
“Don’t follow me.”
“I didn’t follow you.”
“I do whatever the hell I want.”
“Of course, like I do.”
“Mike’s an interesting guy.”
“He’s a dealer, but if you like him, go ahead.”
“You don’t care?”
“No.”
I have never been more sincere than I was at that moment. I hadn’t felt anything when I saw her, panties around her ankles, pressed up against Mike’s body. My indifference surprised even me.
“It’s better like this. I won’t come back to the hotel with you tonight. I’ll go to Mike’s: he’s having a party. I don’t know if I’ll come back tomorrow either.”
“Don’t worry.”
I think she was as surprised by my attitude as I was, and maybe even a little upset.
“Hey, don’t pretend like you don’t care.”
“But I don’t, Lisa. I swear I don’t care at all what you do. Go on, go and have a good time with Mike. He’s waiting for you at the bar.”
She went. She left with him and from the way she looked at me I could see that she was angry. She would have liked for me to suffer, and maybe even to try to stop her from leaving, and for Mike to give me a real beating. But if I didn’t complain it wasn’t because I was scared of what Mike might do to me, but rather because I realized how little Lisa really meant to me. We had been together for a year, but the only thing holding us together was the wickedness that we both held inside ourselves. And that was a very fragile connection.
I enjoyed being alone in the hotel all weekend. I didn’t expect her to come back, and I wouldn’t have wanted her to; I liked to feel myself master of my time without having to share it with anyone. I felt free for the first time, and I liked the feeling.
We met up again on Monday at school. Lisa looked terrible. I sat down next to her as I always did.
“I’m exhausted. Mike is an animal.”
I nodded. I was sure of it. Mike was an animal in every possible sense.
“But we can keep sleeping together whenever we want. He won’t care.”
I didn’t care either. It would be good for me to have a guaranteed ration of sex, at least until I sorted myself out. My relationship with Lisa had taken up all my time and for the moment there was no one else. There was no reason why I should give up on Lisa while I was waiting. I thought about my mother. If she knew what had happened she would have been happy, if only because it would give her a chance to say, “I told you that girl was a slut, but you were the last person to find out.”
Lisa started to miss class. If I had had any feelings for her, I would have been worried to see how she was getting hooked on cocaine and other substances. Mike had found the ideal client. The Fergusons were rich and Lisa always had money. She could pay for her drugs on delivery.
“I feel sorry for Lisa,” Esther said one day when Lisa came to class sweating, her hair out of place and her eyes bugging out of her head.
“She’s a big girl.”
“Yes, but that doesn’t mean that she knows what she’s gotten herself into.”
“What has she gotten herself into?” I asked angrily.
“Come on, Thomas, even an idiot can see that she’s on something. Look at her. What’s left
of her?”
“She’s the same as she always has been, Esther.”
“If she were as much my friend as she is yours I’d try to help her. But we’ve never gotten along, so I can’t do anything. But you should do something.”
Esther’s comment irked me. Why should I get mixed up in Lisa’s life?
Paul didn’t like the state she was in that morning, so he sent her home.
“Miss Ferguson, I’ve said in the past that I don’t care what you do. But I don’t want drugs in my academy. I don’t have much reputation left without you getting rid of the last scraps of it. Come back in six months. The class will be over, you will have passed, and your parents will be happy with the shitty diploma I give you.”
Lisa didn’t pay him any attention and instead sat down next to me.
“I don’t like the superior look your friend Esther’s giving me.”
“Since when do you care how other people look at you?” I asked indifferently.
“So you’ve found someone new. You like that little two-faced skank.”
“Lisa, leave me alone. I don’t poke my nose into your life, so don’t poke yours into mine.”
“So you are sleeping with her.”
Instead of replying I decided to listen to what Paul was telling us about how to con clients. I knew that Lisa hated to think that I might have something going on with Esther. She wouldn’t have cared if I had gotten involved with anyone else, but she hated Esther because Esther was everything she would never be. Esther took life seriously because she knew she had to, if only to escape her fate at the family restaurant. Esther was the one who pushed herself the most to understand the lessons that Paul and the other teachers were passing on to us.
Lisa nudged me and kicked my shin to get my attention. But I didn’t want to speak to her, much less have an argument, given the state she was in. She had gone too far with the cocaine or whatever it was.
Suddenly she ostentatiously pulled up her sleeve and showed me a number of injection scars on her arm.
“You’re crazy,” I said in a whisper.
“And you don’t know what you’re missing. You’re a little mouse, Thomas, scared of life. You’ll never stop being a middle-class kid who wants to pretend to be a bad boy, but the worst thing you’ve ever done in your life is talk back to your mommy and daddy.”
Lisa started to run her hand over the bruises that surrounded the puncture marks.
“What are you on?” I asked.
“Why do you care? Want to try it?”
“No, I don’t, and if you looked in the mirror you’d be terrified of what you’ve become. Know what? You’re not crazy, you’re just dumb.”
Lisa looked at me in confusion. She didn’t think I was capable of standing up to her. She was about to reply when Paul spoke to us angrily.
“Miss Ferguson, Mr. Spencer, would you be kind enough to let me teach this class? Perhaps you’d like to go for a walk?”
“I’m sorry,” I muttered, as I looked away from Lisa’s arm.
“Let’s go,” she said, and stood up.
I remained seated, looking straight ahead, pretending to ignore the fact that Lisa had gotten to her feet. She stared at me, not understanding why I was behaving like this, but didn’t say anything and just left the class, slamming the door behind her.
I stayed at my desk, but I stopped paying attention to Paul and asked myself why I hadn’t gone with Lisa. It didn’t take long to come up with the answer: I didn’t care if other people ruined their lives, but I wasn’t prepared to ruin my own, and so I knew that I wasn’t going to line up alongside Lisa. I had been shocked by the marks on her arm. It was clear that she was now lost forever, but I didn’t want to get lost with her.
After class, Esther came up to me to scold me for not having gone after Lisa.
“You’re not a very good friend. Aren’t you worried what might happen to her?”
“No, not in the least, and I don’t know why you’re worried either.”
Lisa came back on the day that we had to hand in our final paper for the year. I must confess that mine was mediocre, that I hadn’t bothered to make any effort, knowing that Paul would pass me no matter what I handed in. As for Lisa, she sauntered in without even a pen, but though she was obviously still on drugs, she seemed more clearheaded than the last time she had come to class.
“Hey, you’ve changed. You’ve even done your paper for Paul.”
“Well, I didn’t bust my ass, but I’ve got something to hand in, yes,” I replied indifferently.
“And the two-faced skank?”
“Who do you mean?” I asked, knowing she was talking about Esther.
“Your little Italian friend.”
“I suppose her work will be the best, as always.”
I could see in her eyes that she was trying to think up some way of ruining things for Esther, but I didn’t pay any more attention, as Lisa sat down next to me and started to get me up to speed with the latest on her crazy life. She almost paid attention in our economics class. When the professor left the room for a bit, most of the students followed him to go and smoke outside. Esther went too, even though she didn’t smoke; she probably just wanted to keep talking to one of the girls.
Lisa got up and went to Esther’s seat. I saw her open the file on the desk and examine it until she found what she wanted. It was Esther’s final paper. Lisa’s smile was a warning. She started to tear up the pages in a rage until they were little pieces of confetti that fell to the floor, where she stamped on them furiously.
I watched her, knowing how upset Esther would be. But it would be a lie if I said that I cared how Esther felt, and so I let Lisa do what she was doing.
When the others returned, followed by Paul, Esther’s work was sprinkled all over the floor. I saw how shocked Esther was by Lisa’s defiant gaze and then how stunned she was when she saw her folder open and empty.
“But…” Esther started to cry when she realized what had happened.
“What is it?” Paul asked, coming over to Esther’s desk.
There was no need for her to say anything. He immediately guessed that Lisa had been the cause of all this destruction.
“Do you feel better, Miss Ferguson?” he asked Lisa, looking at her angrily.
“Yes, I feel great, Mr. Hard.”
“Excellent. Now, please do me a favor: leave and don’t come back until I hand out the diplomas. You can come with your parents and pick up yours. They might even be happy, because I think that that shitty little diploma is the only qualification you’ll ever get in your life.”
Then he turned and walked up to the board, while Lisa waited, not knowing whether to go or to stay, and Esther sobbed disconsolately.
“Esther Sabatti graduates with honors, with a special mention for her coursework. Now, the rest of you, give me your papers. You know that you’ve all passed anyway.”
Esther looked at me, trying to find an explanation. She assumed, as did the rest of the class, that I had been a witness to Lisa’s act. I looked back at her and shrugged.
Lisa left the room with the same air of superiority she always had, even though she had disgraced herself. She still saw herself as the rich girl whom no one could stand up to.
The murmuring in the class was too loud even for Paul. All the students were blaming Lisa and they looked at me out of the corners of their eyes, as if I were also somehow to blame for the disaster. I decided to distract myself, and looked at Paul as though he were saying something that really piqued my interest. Esther looked away from me eventually, disappointed in my attitude.
Esther has never understood why I allowed Lisa to destroy her work. She can’t accept that I’m indifferent to wicked behavior and that I myself have too often slipped into that entrance to hell where one only wants to cause harm to others.
Esther would like me to have behaved otherwise:
Of course I shouldn’t have allowed Lisa to fall into Mike’s hands. The night she told me sh
e was going to a party at her dealer’s house I should have gotten her away from that wretched place, no matter how much she protested. I suppose we would have had a huge fight, but even so, I know that Lisa would have listened to me. I was her best friend—really her only friend, the only person with whom she didn’t have to pretend to be anything but who she was. The person she could trust because she had recognized in me the same darkness that closed her off from the world.
“Don’t go. He’s in some deep shit and the only thing he wants from you is the money you pay him for drugs. You’re a gold mine to him, rich and impulsive—his best client. You can’t think you mean anything to him? He sleeps with you because it’s part of his job, and it’s obvious that you’re not his type. You’re still not cheap enough to be his type.” That’s what I should have said to Lisa.
“You’re just jealous! Look what we have here. Young Mr. Spencer is jealous,” she would have answered.
“Don’t be ridiculous. I don’t care who you screw around with, but this guy is worse than a con man. He’ll bleed you dry and when there’s nothing left to take he’ll kick you out onto the street. Did you know that he’s a pimp too? That he has a bunch of girls hooked on crack who he uses to foot the bill for his drugs?”
“And you think I’m going to end up like that? You’re crazy, Thomas Spencer!”
“You know I’m right, Lisa, so let’s get out of this dump and never come back. We’re not missing out on anything here. If you’re really feeling adventurous, how about we go scale the Statue of Liberty, totally naked? Maybe we’ll end up on the front page of the New York Times.”
I would take her by the arm and, overcoming her resistance, drag her outside the club. Mike would follow us to see where we were going and I would confront him.
“Lisa doesn’t want to go with you. Let her go,” Mike would say, getting cocky.
“Get out of the way. We’re leaving. Go find some other idiot to leech money off of—you’ve had enough from this one. If you don’t, you’ll find yourself facing the entire police force of New York. Her father is a major donor to the police orphans’ fund, you know. I’m sure there are plenty of volunteers who’ll do him the favor of locking up the dealer who’s harassing his little girl.”
Story of a Sociopath Page 9
