The Clasp by Sloane Crosley

Author:Sloane Crosley
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins Canada
Published: 2015-08-13T16:00:00+00:00

TWENTY-FIVE

Nathaniel

I do love Percy’s lunch boxes.” Meghan pointed as they walked through the kitchen.

The lunch boxes were an affected element of Percy’s existence, of the house’s existence. They struck Nathaniel as childish. And they were childish. They were lunch boxes.

He punted his bedroom door, which was already slightly open. Meghan laughed and waltzed in ahead of him. He tossed his phone on the ground and it rang almost immediately, as if the tossing had caused it to go off. Nathaniel saw it was Kezia but he was distracted by Meghan, who picked up his special pillow, taking note of the cord dangling from it.

“Is this a sex toy?”

The phone kept ringing.

“Key-zi-ah.” Meghan plucked it from the ground. “What nationality is that?”

“It’s Kez. Like fez. And: Uptight.”

Nathaniel should have let it go but he grabbed the phone and spoke quickly.

“Hey, what’s up.”

“Nice greeting. I called to wish you a happy birthday.”

He pulled the phone away from his ear and looked at the screen.

“It’s not my birthday anymore,” he whispered.

He didn’t want Meghan reconsidering her birthday-based logic.

“Well, fuck me for caring. Are you having a party?”

“Sort of. Percy’s having a party and I’m invited.”

“Who’s all there?”

She had met a friend or two of his during her trips to L.A. but not enough that answering this question would matter.

“Is that guy Will there?”

“He was.”

“Is he still with that girl?”

Why was she asking about people she hardly knew? Maybe she was asking if there were girls at the party. Yes, there were girls at the party. She was being weird, even for her.

“Are you out? It’s three a.m. Do you know where your Kezia is?”

“So now I’m yours.”

“It’s a joke.”

“Oh. Go slow. I’m tired and not as old and wise as you. I’m home. I’m leaving for Paris the day after tomorrow because I need to meet our vendor about one of the major pieces in the spring line or I’m totally screwed and Rachel’s in Tokyo so I—”

Meghan grabbed the phone. She held it so that Nathaniel could speak into it. With her other hand, she unzipped her shorts. Nathaniel had not given much thought to her underwear before this moment but, seeing that she was wearing none, he realized he’d been expecting white cotton.

“Kezia.” He stretched his neck toward the receiver. “I gotta go.”

“Wait, wait, I want to talk to you about Victor.”

“What about Victor?”

“I’m worr—”

Meghan grabbed his shirt with surprising force and yanked him toward her. He could taste the beer and floral balm on her lips. But he could also hear the faraway voice of Kezia say “Victor” and “depressed” and “the edge.” This was nothing new, nothing that needed addressing. Kezia didn’t want to fix Victor, she wanted to be congratulated for wanting to fix Victor. Probably because she felt guilty for never fucking him.

“Your friend sounds like Charlie Brown’s mom,” Meghan said.

“She sounds like that all the time.”

Meghan reached down and into his boxers, wrapping her hand around him and tugging at weak, uneven speeds. Then she took a giant step back.

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