28

I walked up the lane way to 77 Tulip Crescent holding the light blue t-shirt and formulating a plan:

I would walk up, pretend to the ring the doorbell, then walk back and tell Vince not to wait around, because I’d take a walk and try the door again later.

Indeed, I was content having come up with such a plan in such a short time, when–

The front door opened a man stepped out.

“Oh, hello,” he said, and smiled. “May I help you?”

“I’m…”

What was I?

I was surely in the wrong place.

He was holding a bunch of old cassette tapes.

He was also svelte and black and dressed in fashionable black-rimmed glasses and a pink dress shirt.

I tried again. “I’m…”

He must have spotted the shirt.

“Ah,” he said. “Toumani Diabate. You must be–”

Powder:

As beautiful and even more radiant than before, the Sunday light somehow bursting through the clouds and shining through her hair, nearly through her, her pale skin, nearly translucent…

Stepped through the door.

“Winston!”

She smiled. They both smiled.

I smiled, too.

Vince honked, and drove off.

27

Tulip Crescent was a winding road in the hills above the city.

It wasn’t actually a crescent.

There weren’t tulips.

But lining both sides of the freshly paved asphalt:

Brilliant houses and weedless, emerald lawns, like sprouting American dollar bills, all competing against each other, all separated from one another by perfectly upright fences.

It was a neighbourhood no one could afford.

It was a neighbourhood everyone wanted to live in, even when they made snide remarks–

“Rich pricks,” Vince said.

“No offense to your girl. I mean, if you can get it, get it.”

I stepped out of the car and waved Vince off.

He stayed put.

“Go get your groceries,” I said, a little too loudly.

I half expected the police to appear and pick me up for breaking the peace.

“Maybe she’s not home.

“I’ll wait.”

I didn’t want him to wait. I was the one who would be waiting.

“It might take a while,” I said.

“I’ll wait until you get inside.”

26

I clutched the t-shirt tighter and said a silent prayer.

The suburbs sped by.

At times like these, I wanted to believe.

In love.

I wanted to live–

A truck turned into our lane.

“Please let me live so that I can see Powder again,” I told God in my head.

The truck was getting bigger…

The car to our left wasn’t giving an inch…

Vince stomped on the accelerator.

“Amateur.”

And our little black Civic kicked into 90km/h and in one smooth motion sailed past our defeated adversary and into the left lane in time to avoid the truck, which was going the lawful 40km/h.

The school zone ended.

I exhaled.

Vince laughed.

“My girlfried hates when I race.

“God damn women, eh?”

I was afraid my palms had gotten the t-shirt sweaty.

25

Vince drove a black 2003 Honda Civic.

I sat in the passenger seat.

The car’s wipers wiped the rain away methodically, hypnotically…

“That your boyfriend’s?”

We we were waiting at an intersection for the light to turn green. Vince was pointing with his chin at the light blue t-shirt I was clutching to my chest.

“No,” I said.

“I’m joking…”

“I know.” I didn’t know.

“But, really, it your girlfriend’s or what?”

I muttered under my breath.

“That who you’re going to see? Tulip Crescent–” He whistled. “–rich neighbourhood.”

The car beside us revved its engine and Vince looked over.

He revved ours.

I sensed trouble.

“My girlfriend’s a real bitch,” he said.

The light turned green.

And we took off.

The car to our left ignored being in the left turn lane and met us, speed for speed:

50km/h…

70km/h…

80km/h…

We were in a 40km/h school zone.

24

“I’m heading out for groceries, if you want to come,” Vince said.

I looked at my alarm clock.

9:48am

I didn’t remember falling asleep. I had planned to get up earlier.

Rain drummed and dribbled down the outside my window.

I liked rain.

“So, you coming or not?”

I didn’t need groceries, but a ride to 77 Tulip Crescent sounded good, especially because I didn’t know where it was.

“One second,” I said. “Let me get dressed.”

Vince closed the door.

I turned on my laptop and, when it was buzzing, Googled Powder’s address.

Google Maps showed me the way.

It was in town, but far. More importantly, it truly existed.

My cheeks felt warm.

My heart beat hard and fast again.

I would see her!

(Secretly: She was real!)

(I’d woken up thinking she was a dream…)

I threw on some clothes, grabbed a coat, the blue t-shirt and in the front hall put on my shoes.

23

“Police! Open up!”

Eyes open.

Vision sharpening.

I leapt out of bed and almost fell on my face on the bedside carpet.

The door swung open, and–

Gun.

Pointed at me.

“Get on the floor. Now, now, now!”

I was about to do it, too.

Giggling.

The hand holding the gun belonged to Vince.

He was cracking up. “Down on your knees, bitch.”

I stayed upright.

The gun looked real and I felt nervous having it pointed at me, but it was obviously a fake.

“Good morning,” Vince said.

He pointed at my laptop. “Got any porn?”

“He did that to me already, too,” Ryan said from the living room.

Vince was laughing.

I was wearing my pyjamas and must have had tufts of steam coming out of my ears.

“Chill, man.

“I was watching reruns of The Shield all night.

“Vic Mackey, yo.

“Hey, you want a ride somewhere?”

22

I didn’t have classes on Friday, so I spent the entire day in the apartment, mostly in my room.

I was still adjusting to my new lack of privacy.

That didn’t lessen my excitement for Saturday, however; or the way in which Professor K’s unwanted advice kept nagging me.

Why should I hope for a broken heart?

I was hoping for two healthy ones beating in one rhythm, forever!

I decided Professor K didn’t know what he was talking about. I mean, what could he possibly know about love? He was old and taught things like The Battle of the Bulge.

By the afternoon, even my room-mates started making metaphysical sense.

They were a sign.

Fate, having introduced me to the love of my life, had also inserted my room-mates into my life to show me that my loneliness was coming to an end.

Besides, I thought, I wouldn’t live here long. Powder and I would soon move in together.

I almost thought about having kids.

To keep myself in check, I smelled the light blue t-shirt that Powder had presumably given me and that I had hand washed in the sink.

I inhaled.

I kissed the t-shirt.

It smelled and tasted like laundry detergent and softener.

21

Although There was no telling if the last name or address were true, both bits of administrative data filled me with supreme happiness.

I was truly in love.

Anything new, no matter how simple or inconsequential, about Powder was like a sparkling treasure to me.

I imagined myself a palaeontologist, unearthing the full skeleton of a previously unknown species of meat-eating dinosaur.

I told myself I would stop by the address on the weekend.

To see what it looked like, if it existed at all.

Once there, I would wait for hours, just to catch a glimpse of her!

Ten minutes later, while I was still basking in the glow of my discoveries, Ryan came back, smiling as before.

“You look happy,” he said.

I nodded.

“Are you OK?”

“I am.”

On the bus, he turned to me and asked, “Do you have a girlfriend?”

“Yes,” I said, then said, “No,” before settling on, “I guess it’s complicated. Do you?”

“Simply, I do.”

I didn’t know what to say to that.

“We’ll be getting married this year,” he said.

I didn’t know what to say to that, either, except, “Congratulations,” for which he thanked me equally formally, and left me to my window gazing and my fantasies of me in a tailored suit and Powder in a beautiful wedding dress, and the both of us exchanging personalised vows…

20

“Oliver’s my last name,” I said as the lady at reception was flipping through a box of papers.

She pulled out three of them.

She put one on the desk in front of me and handed me a pen.

“Sign here.”

I did without reading. I always signed without reading. It stressed me out to read things while being watched. I felt like I was wasting everyone’s time.

“And these,” the lady said, “are your records.”

I took them, thanked her, and took a seat in the waiting area to wait for Ryan.

As much as I wanted to leave to take the bus by myself, I couldn’t do it. Was I weak-willed, too?

But I didn’t have much time to think about an answer.

Because on one of the sheets in front of me, I spied a familiar name:

Her name:

Powder White

There was also an address:

77 Tulip Crescent

Both were written in impeccable, feminine cursive.

19

On the bus, Ryan sat next to me. I wasn’t used to it. I felt confined.

I looked out the window at traffic and houses.

When we got out, we walked the way to the hospital more slowly than I was used to and then approached the front desk.

The lady at the desk seemed to recognise Ryan immediately. She smiled warmly.

He said to me, “I’ll meet you back here, and we can bus back together.”

I wished we didn’t.

I smiled, too.

When he’d disappeared down a corridor, the lady at reception stopped smiling warmly and turned to me.

“May I help you?”

“Yes,” I said, before realising I didn’t know what to say next. “I…”

How could I tell the truth without seeming odd?

“Yes?”

“Yes, I got hit by a car–”

She dropped her pen.

“Earlier,” I corrected myself. “I got hit earlier.

“And then I kind of left the hospital when I was feeling better but didn’t sign anything.”

She gave me a stern look, one that said: “It’s people like you…”

“My name is Oliver, Winston.”