Chapters (60)
- Cover
- Title Page
- Personae
- I: Early Days
- One. Control
- Two. Doubt
- Three. Fate
- Four. Same
- Five. Fine Arts
- Six. In Loco Parentis
- Seven. Settling
- Eight. Neighbors
- Nine. Prospects
- Ten. The Lucky
- Eleven. Instruction
- Twelve. Same
- Thirteen. This Is a Pipe
- Fourteen. This Is Not a Pipe
- Fifteen. The Reason
- Sixteen. That Person
- Seventeen. Predictably
- II: Writing Teacher
- Eighteen. Early Poems
- Nineteen. Motivation
- Twenty. Allegory
- Twenty-One. Grief
- Twenty-Two. A Portrait
- Twenty-Three. Veils
- Twenty-Four. Soft Power
- Twenty-Five. Lists
- Twenty-Six. A Break
- Twenty-Seven. Elsewhere
- Twenty-Eight. Custom
- Twenty-Nine. Parity
- Thirty. Fortune
- III: Volta
- Thirty-One. Images
- Thirty-Two. A Very Interesting Young Man
- Thirty-Three. Letters
- Thirty-Four. We Prefer to See Ourselves Living
- Thirty-Five. Love
- Thirty-Six. The Iceberg
- IV: Your Best Reader
- Thirty-Seven. A Novelist
- Thirty-Eight. In Advance of the Broken Arm
- Thirty-Nine. Their Penultimate Encounter
- Forty. Détente
- Forty-One. Worlds
- Forty-Two. Recognition
- Forty-Three. Persistence
- Forty-Four. And Then
- Forty-Five. Mingling
- Forty-Six. You
- Forty-Seven. Persona
- Forty-Eight. Est et Non
- Forty-Nine. The Author
- Epilogue
- Afterword: The Libertine
- Acknowledgments
- About the Authors
“Oh my god, Loudermilk, testy much? Let’s just take a moment to celebrate the fact that we’re here, together and alone? I notice, by the way, that you have a bed.”
“No.”
Beans initiates a secular prayer. It seems that this is the voice of Marta and Don’s teenage daughter. Beans either has primary information or is about to learn more about this young woman than he has ever wanted to know. Perhaps both. Also, his right side is entirely numb.
“Loudermilk, you’re very shy today.”
“I am not shy.”
“No offense, but given our track record, you do seem pretty shy.”
“This is a house I happen to share, Lizzie.”
“Since when is sharing a thing you do? Also, what happened to Harry?”
“He’ll be right back.”
“I totally believe you.”
“OK, great, well, I’m glad we got that settled. Let me know how your art project goes. Or better yet, don’t.”
“Loudermilk, I know you’re not really this mean. I came over because I want to tell you something. Don’t you want to hear what it is?”
“No.”
“No? It’s really important. I have this idea, and I was thinking, like, maybe you want in?”
“Hmm, let me check. Nope!”
“You haven’t even heard what it is!”
“Do I need to?”
“Yes, because it’s totally amazing and I promise you will be sorry if you miss out.”
“Thanks for letting me know!”
“Loudermilk, I’m serious. Like, because”—this girl Lizzie is whispering now—“you’re a great artist and I for one happen to really know this. I know. I’m sorry but I know about you and Harry. I’ve been around a lot of poets, I mean, really a lot, and I know what you guys are doing. I mean, unlike a lot of people I’ve talked to Harry. I know who he is. I know who you are! And I don’t care! Honestly! You’re an artist, too! A great artist. Like I’m an artist, a great artist, I hope, and I thought we—”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Loudermilk is impassive. “You and I are not going to collaborate on your latest papier-mâché princess crown. You saw this house, where I do my important writing, and now—”
“But you don’t do any writing, Loudermilk.”
Beans is not able to help himself. He’s lost track of his body and even where he is, in the sponge cake of this saga. And, quite simply, he farts.
It might be audible.
“What was that?” Loudermilk demands.
Beans clenches up.
“Ew,” says Lizzie Hillary. “You farted, Loudermilk. And, FYI, you didn’t write those poems.”
Beans silently exalts the random benevolence of the universe.
“I heard that, too, and yes, yes, I did.”