Penelope

by Rebecca Harrington

  “Hi, guys,” she said. “What’s up?”

  “Nothing,” said Penelope.

  “Hey, Emma!” said Catherine. “Wanna watch TV with us?”

  “I’m so sorry,” said Emma. “I’m always forgetting everybody’s names. Have we met? What’s your name again?”

  “I’m Catherine,” said Catherine. “I’m in the play with you.”

  “Oh, right,” said Emma. “I’m so sorry. I just meet so many people. I can’t keep anyone straight.” She did one of her hooting laughs, which succeeded in drowning out the sounds of Laguna Beach for a few seconds. “What are you guys watching?”

  “Laguna Beach,” said Ted.

  “And your name is?” asked Emma, looking at Ted.

  “Oh, this is Ted,” said Penelope.

  “Oh, I remember this season,” said Emma. She resituated herself so she was sitting in front of the TV. “I wish I could watch it. I’m going out pretty soon. Maybe I can stay for just one episode.”

  “Where are you going?” asked Penelope.

  “Oh, I am going to this party at the S—. I’m waiting for Bitty. She went to this drinks thing at the Pudding that I couldn’t go to because I was working. Once she texts me, I’ll head out.”

  “OK,” said Penelope.

  Emma settled on the floor and the group continued watching TV—Penelope sitting precariously on the arm of the futon, Catherine lying on Ted’s lap.

  “There are so many girls like that in California,” said Emma after one girl vomited from drinking too much.

  “I know,” said Catherine, who nodded. “They’re so cheap. I get sick of looking at them. Those sandals are like what a whore would wear.”

  “I’ve never been to California,” said Penelope.

  “It’s weird,” said Emma authoritatively. “It’s like a different culture. Like all the girls here from California have breast implants. It’s like, can you imagine going to Harvard and getting breast implants?”

  “Sure I could,” said Penelope.

  “I’ll leave in a second,” said Emma.

  For the next two hours Emma, Ted, Catherine, and Penelope watched an entire season of Laguna Beach. Emma checked her phone approximately every five minutes to see if anyone texted her to go to the S— party. No one did. Once they had finished the final DVD, she seemed at a loss for what to do.

  “I don’t know why no one has texted me to go to the S— party yet,” said Emma as Penelope ejected the DVD and put it back in its case.

  “That is weird,” said Penelope.

  “I know,” said Emma. “It’s probably because it’s hard to get service in the clubs. I bet that’s it, actually.”

  “I’m sure it’s that,” said Catherine sympathetically.

  “Maybe I should just head over. What do you think, should I head over?” asked Emma.

  “I would,” said Ted.

  “I hate to go to things alone though.”

  “It does suck,” said Penelope. “Do you have a game on your phone?”

  “Oh God, I don’t know what to do,” said Emma in a distressed tone.

  “Penelope could go with you,” said Ted, lightly punching Penelope’s arm. Penelope was not displeased with this suggestion. It was a much more sound excuse than a parade. She wished she had thought of it.

  “Well, you couldn’t go,” said Emma. “They don’t let random guys inside.”

  “I know,” said Ted. “That’s why I said Penelope should go.”

  “Or I could go,” said Catherine loudly.

  “OK,” said Ted. He seemed even more pleased by this idea. “Penelope and I will just stay here.”

  “Actually,” said Catherine, “maybe Penelope should go to the party. I should probably stay with you.” She got up, straddled Ted, and kissed him on the lips.

  “Well, OK,” said Emma. “Penelope, do you want to come with me?”

  “Sure,” said Penelope.

  “OK then,” said Emma, as if resigned to fate.

  “I’ll get my coat,” said Penelope.

  Penelope went over to the coat rack near the door and put her coat on. She found lipstick in one of the pockets and applied it lavishly. Emma gathered her belongings and joined Penelope near the door.

  “Well, bye, Ted. Bye, Catherine,” said Penelope.

  “Tell me how it is when you get back. I’ll probably be up,” said Ted.

  “I will be too!” said Catherine.

  “OK,” said Penelope.

  “This won’t be so bad,” said Emma.

  “Maybe not,” said Penelope, thinking about lesser evils.

  7.

  Penelope Attends a Disturbing Party, Continued

  Emma and Penelope walked over to the party in silence. Emma tried fruitlessly to call people. Penelope trudged beside her. It was cold out. Penelope was vaguely regretting this endeavor.

  “We’re almost here,” said Emma suddenly. They were on a wide street. It was lined with different kinds of brick buildings, some apartments, some Greek Revival–type houses. They stopped in front of an anonymous-looking edifice of the latter description, one side of which seemed to be a German bookstore.

  “Just say you’re my roommate.”

  “I will,” said Penelope.

  Outside the door of this establishment was a man sitting on a chair. He was about forty, tan, pockmarked, and wearing a leather jacket. He was holding a sheaf of papers.

  “Hi,” said Emma. “Emma Green.”

  “Are you on the list?” asked the guy, looking at the papers.

  “Yeah, I think so.”

  “Hmm … There you are,” said the guy, checking her name off with a pen. “Who’s this though?”

  “This is my roommate,” said Emma.

  “Is she on the list?” asked the guy. “What’s her name?”

  “She’s not on the list, but can she still come in with me?”

  “I don’t think so,” said the guy, who Penelope realized was a bouncer, hired for the occasion. “You’re gonna have to check with one of the members. We’re pretty full.”

  “Oh, please!” said Emma.

  “I’m sorry,” said the bouncer.

  “I’ll call the guy I know,” said Emma. She looked like she was about to cry.

  “I can just go home,” said Penelope.

  “Could you?” said Emma.

  “Yeah, def,” said Penelope. “I definitely could.”

  “Oh, hey, Evan? Is that you?” said Emma into her phone. “I have a friend here, and I need to get her inside. Will you come out here and tell the guy outside that it’s OK? Oh, you will? Thank you so so much!” Emma hung up the phone, elated.

  “Evan will be down in a minute,” said Emma to the bouncer. He shrugged.

  “It’s cold out,” said Penelope to the bouncer.

  “Yes,” said the bouncer.

  “Do you have gloves?” asked Penelope.

  “I don’t have circulation in my hands,” said the bouncer.

  Evan opened the door. He was wearing pleated pants, a polo shirt, and a blazer. He was suffering from a terrible case of cystic acne.

  “Thanks so much, Evan,” said Emma. She hugged him. “Sorry I’m late.”

  “Next time you should call me earlier if you are going to bring a guest,” said Evan. He beckoned both Penelope and Emma inside, and shut the door quickly behind them. They stood in a dark hallway. The music, an anonymous yet menacing techno, was quite loud.

  Evan looked at the two girls. He stood on one foot. Then he switched to the other foot.

  “How are you doing, Emma?” he said after a pause.

  “Oh, great, well, not that great. I have a ton of work,” said Emma.

  “Me too,” said Evan.

  “Ha ha,” laughed Emma.

  “Well, I guess we should really go inside. We don’t want to just keep standing here,” said Evan. He walked down the corridor without waiting for an answer.

  Emma grabbed Penelope’s arm and started walking with her down
the hallway. They followed Evan closely.

  “Evan’s father is the head of this bank in New York,” Emma whispered into Penelope’s ear. “His mother is Donald Trump’s sister, I think.”

  “Oh,” said Penelope.

  They walked into the foyer of the club, which was forest green and adorned with a decorous smattering of dentil molding. To the left of the foyer was a billiards room, which had been converted into a dancing area with the help of a strobe light. It was stuffed with people bouncing up and down and, in the process, bumping roughly against the pool table in a way that looked like it hurt. On the right side of the foyer was a staircase. Every available wall was covered with either the head of a dead bear or a drawing of a live bear.

  Evan started to go up the stairs. Emma grabbed his wrist.

  “Can we go upstairs, Evan?” asked Emma. She held his hand in hers and looked at him pleadingly.

  “Uh, sure. Yeah, definitely,” said Evan.

  “Yay!” said Emma. She hugged him. She and Evan climbed the stairs, arm in arm. Penelope trotted behind them.

  This was probably the nicest house that Penelope had ever been in in her life. It was rather shabby, of course, but only in the way that truly grand things are shabby. On every table, there was something old and mildly valuable, like a vase or a tiny statuette of a bear doing ballet. Penelope wondered how a group of eighteen-year-olds was expected to keep up something like this, but apparently they were quite good at it.

  When they go to the top of the staircase, Evan and Emma led Penelope into a large room. Unlike the rest of the house, this room had all the lights on. Small groups of people were playing antique board games, like cribbage, at tables designed for such a purpose. One side of the room housed a grand piano and a couple of settees. The other side of the room featured a gigantic stuffed bear poised in the position of attack.

  Emma and Evan went to the piano side of the room when Emma spotted Bitty, who Penelope remembered played one of the Caligulas.

  “Bitty!” yelled Emma. She disentangled herself from Evan and ran toward her. Bitty was balanced on the corner of a Queen Anne end table sipping a glass of white wine. She was wearing an ivory-colored cashmere sweater and pearls. She had such an aggressive plainness about her, down to her unadorned hair and well-defined jaw, that it almost substituted for glamour.

  “Emma!” said Bitty. She spoke in a gravelly voice, like she had just stopped shouting. They hugged. Evan ambled away and sat on a nearby settee.

  “How was the Pudding?” said Emma.

  “Fine,” said Bitty. “I mean, boring as usual. We left early.”

  “Where’s Katrina?” asked Emma.

  “Oh, she’s playing backgammon with Roger,” said Bitty with a wave of her hand.

  “Katrina is so hilarious,” said Emma.

  “She really is,” said Bitty. “Emma, have you met Leslie Danforth?” Bitty gestured to a man standing next to her with eyebrows so blond they were invisible.

  “Nice to meet you,” said Emma.

  “Does anyone want a drink?” asked Leslie Danforth.

  “I think we all would,” said Bitty. “Another one of these for me.” She tipped her glass toward Leslie Danforth, who gallantly took it.

  “All right,” said Leslie Danforth, and walked away.

  “He’s a blast!” said Bitty.

  “Doesn’t his father own one of the British Virgin Islands?” asked Emma.

  “His father is really involved with public radio,” said Bitty in a warning tone. “They’re great friends of ours.”

  “Oh,” said Emma.

  “We’re going on vacation with them, actually, over Christmas break. To the Virgin Islands.”

  “That will be amazing,” said Emma.

  “It really will,” said Bitty. “We’re also going with Amelia Lucey. Do you known Amelia Lucey?”

  “It sounds familiar,” said Emma.

  “She’s in the Pudding,” said Bitty. “Went to Exeter. She’s hilarious. It’s going to be a fantastic trip.”

  “Oh, I know her now that you say it,” said Emma. “She is hilarious.”

  Leslie Danforth came back with the drinks.

  “A white wine for you, a scotch for you, Emma, oh, and I’m sorry, I didn’t see your friend back there. I didn’t get you anything,” said Leslie.

  “Oh, yes, Emma, who’s your friend?” said Bitty.

  “Oh, this is my roommate,” said Emma. “Penelope.”

  “Hi,” said Penelope. “We’re in the play together.”

  “We are?” said Bitty.

  “I play a guard,” said Penelope.

  “Do you need me to run back and get you a drink?” asked Leslie Danforth.

  “Oh, I can get it myself,” said Penelope. She walked toward where Leslie got the drinks from—a small mahogany-paneled study connected via pocket door to the antique board games room. In the study, there were three men in tuxedos smoking cigars.

  “So what have you been up to?” said one of the men in tuxedos to another. Penelope could not see who was speaking, because she was busy making herself a mixture of rum, tonic water, and orange juice at the makeshift bar in the back of the room.

  “I’ve been so busy with my new business. I’m working on a startup,” said one of the other tuxedo-clad fellows. “It’s an Internet-based company that’s like Facebook but lets people with ecological businesses connect to one another.”

  “That’s a great idea,” said the first tuxedo.

  “Yeah, we’ll see,” said the second tuxedo. “I think it really could be big.”

  “I agree,” said the third tuxedo, a voice that could only be Gustav’s. Penelope almost spilled her drink but still did not turn around. “All those ecological fellows need to connect to one another. Really, I know at least four. They are crying out for a system.”

  “Exactly,” said the first tuxedo.

  Penelope turned away from the bar and slowly walked by Gustav and his friends on the way to the door. Gustav looked intensely handsome, so handsome that Penelope thought she couldn’t realistically stay around much longer without mishap. Gustav did not seem to notice her. He was untying his bow tie when she left.

  When Penelope returned to the antique board games room, Emma and Bitty were gone, and Leslie Danforth was playing a Chopin nocturne on the piano. Penelope briefly considered looking for her lost compatriots but decided against it. Neither of them seemed to like her very much, and Penelope’s mother had recently given her a lecture about not hanging around with people who seemed like they were annoyed with her, as that would make them more annoyed. So instead she sat on the settee directly under the outstretched claws of the stuffed bear. She took a book out of her bag and set it down next to her. She sipped her drink. It tasted mostly of tonic water.

  About fifteen minutes after Penelope settled herself in her seat, Gustav entered the room, cigar still in hand. He sat on an ottoman quite near Penelope’s settee. He texted someone for a long time. Penelope kept her eyes bolted on Leslie Danforth, who was given to very elaborate hand gestures and closed eyes while playing piano.

  Suddenly Gustav spoke.

  “Are you reading?” he said to someone. Penelope kept looking at Leslie Danforth.

  “You, in that sort of frilly neck thing, are you reading?”

  Penelope whipped her head around. Apparently, Gustav was addressing her. He had turned his body completely in her direction and was staring at her.

  “No,” said Penelope.

  “Then why is there a book lying next to you on the couch?”

  “Well, eventually, I was preparing to read,” said Penelope. “I think.”

  “Harrumph,” said Gustav. “That seems rather antisocial.”

  “I was thinking of reading aloud,” said Penelope. “To everyone.”

  “But how would anyone hear you over the din of the piano?” asked Gustav.

  “I would shout,” said Penelope.

  Gustav shook his head. Then he turned away to
watch Leslie Danforth, who could, apparently, play only one Chopin nocturne. Periodically, people clapped for Leslie Danforth, but he did not let accolades distract him from his task. He would bow and start again, like a player piano. Penelope assumed her conversation with Gustav was over. He had started to look at his phone again. She gave herself permission to exhale, and was inwardly rebuking herself for the reading aloud comment, when Gustav spoke again.

  “My God,” Gustav said suddenly. “Are you twiddling your thumbs?”

  “No,” said Penelope.

  “I just saw you,” said Gustav.

  “Well,” said Penelope, “to be honest, I think there is something wrong with my drink. I was warming up before I took another sip of it.”

  “Very wise,” said Gustav, “to exercise one’s hands before drinking. Mind if I try it?” He moved onto Penelope’s couch.

  “I really don’t think you will like it at all,” said Penelope. She handed it to him. He took a sip.

  “Why that’s absolutely vile!” said Gustav. He coughed. “What is even in that?”

  “Quinine,” said Penelope.

  “I should say so,” said Gustav. “Plus rum? That is a disgrace to the art of drinking.”

  “The good thing is, though, you will not get malaria,” said Penelope.

  “Exceedingly smart,” said Gustav. “One always must be prepared for the demmed mosquitos and a revolt in the mines, as my grandfather used to say. You aren’t by any chance in my Counting People section, are you?”

  “I don’t know,” said Penelope. “Or at least, I don’t think so. I don’t remember.”

  “Do you have Jared?” asked Gustav.

  “Yes,” said Penelope.

  “See? I knew it. I knew I recognized you from somewhere,” said Gustav. “Why haven’t I seen you around before? Do you go to the S— much?”

  “No,” said Penelope. “This is my first time.”

  “Who brought you here?”

  “My roommate Emma. We came to meet her friend Bitty. I am in a play with both of them.”

  “You are in that awful production of Caligula? Oh, you can’t be serious!”

  “I play a guard,” said Penelope.

  “Caligula! Oh that is too humorous,” said Gustav, laughing. “The one with two Caligulas.”

  “I sort of got roped into it,” said Penelope. “The director—”