Chapter 30 Chapter Twenty Nine

Mike sat at the dining table and Estelle stood in front of the electric stove.She was wearing a beige T-shirt and blue jeans, and tiptoed barefoot to reach a saucepan from a high shelf.The movement caused her T-shirt to pull up, revealing the smooth bronzed skin of her lower back. Feel sorry.I said as I turned and left. It's all right, said Estelle, come eat with us. I'm reminded of that dating handbook.Is there anything I can do to help? She smiled.I'm cooking my own dish.Spaghetti with deli hot sauce, sprinkled with cheese and paired with red wine. Sounds great.I said. That's right, said Estelle, even I wouldn't screw this up.

I think it's getting in the way with Mike sitting there.He's like a smooth wall with no finger holes for support, and he doesn't seem to find it embarrassing to be silent.He stared at me for a moment, then got up and produced three plates, forks and glasses.He took out a bottle of red wine from the shopping bag on the ground, opened it and poured some into each glass.I raise my glass. cheers.Unexpectedly, I said this sentence too quickly.Estelle was still stirring the pasta in the saucepan, and Mike was just staring at his wine glass.It was an embarrassing moment, but Estelle smiled and raised her glass to take a swig.

I was talking about traveling with Mike, and she said, David, do you travel a lot? Lying seems to be an extremely useful tool.It can play people in the palm of its hand and manipulate people.You can say what they want to hear, or you can trick them into thinking you are someone special.The point of lying is to tell different lies to different people.Different people need different lies, just as different jobs need different tools.If you're going to tell everyone the same set of lies, it's much easier to tell the truth.If you're telling the truth, you can blurt it out without thinking too much, because the truth is naturally seamless.That's not the case with lies.You have to post-process, wrap them together.And you must keep in mind when you lied to whom, and whether it can be combined with other lies, and whether something will happen today, tomorrow or later, to debunk your lie.There is also a science in knowing when not to lie.At the moment, Mike and Estelle are talking about travel, because the two of them often travel around the world.Although I really want to say that I also travel a lot and let myself be a part of them.But then they will ask me where I have been, and if I give a few random place names, they will probably go there, and then everything will go wrong.Whenever this kind of shit happens, it ruins everything in the house and I have to move out.

Not often, I said, where have you been? Almost all of them are in Europe, Esther said, and she has also been to India, the Far East and Australia.I'm not as well-informed as Mike. where have you beenI asked Mike. He made a gesture that didn't feel like it was a big deal.I've just come back from Latin America, he said, where I've been for two years. I think back to that book, the book on how to make friends.You want to encourage people to talk, that's what the book says.Nothing is boring, all a good conversationalist needs is to listen attentively. Where is the best place you have been to?I asked Mike, where would you recommend others go?

He thought about it.Brazil.He said. Why? First point, he held up a finger, rainforest.The second point: the Amazon Basin.The third point: the noisy and exciting big city.The fourth point: singing and dancing.Fifth point: sugar cane wine.He started counting with the other hand, number six: music.Seventh point: the beach.Number eight: Awesome drugs.This was the most talk I've ever heard Mike say, and he wasn't done yet.And women. That's number nine on your list.I said it lightly, and was glad to see Estelle grinning, but Mike had a stern look on his face, like I was imitating him for fun.

They are the most amazing women in the world.Except for the ladies here. Oh, shut up, Mike.Astrid said as she poured the pasta onto a plate. And it's cheap. That sounds great, I said, how's your Spanish? Mike looked at Estelle. It should be in Portuguese, Estre said. Chile, Peru and other countries only speak Spanish. Yes, I know, I said, but I mean when you're traveling in other countries in South America.In fact, I'm thinking of learning Portuguese. real or fake?Estelle said that everyone said this language is very interesting. I thought to myself: fuck it.I tell the truth so as not to look like a fool, but I end up giving myself away.

The next day I went to a bookstore and found a guidebook to South America.Brazil does look great.Ten days later, I was sitting in a cram school in Clapton with some businessmen, some retirees, and two young men I couldn't understand.The teacher of the introductory Portuguese course was a plump, middle-aged Portuguese woman wearing glasses, who was very different from the hot girl Mike talked about.It's the fourth week of the course and I missed the first, second and third weeks, but I told the lady in the office that I will try to keep up. A few days later, I ran into Mike in the hallway and said to him cheerfully; Bom dia. (Note: bom dia is good morning in Portuguese.)

He looked shocked.Are you serious? I really want to learn it. In fact, Spanish is much more practical, he said, unless you are planning to go to Brazil, Angola or Mozambique. or Portugal.I said. Yes, he said suspiciously, is it for women?I may be exaggerating the description of those women. No, I said, I like the way the language sounds. Mike softened, and so did I, he said, sorry.I don't mean to belittle you. Boa sorte. Ah? Good luck. For the next few weeks, I lived happily among the divided worlds.In the Portuguese-speaking world, I'm a guy who's going to Brazil for a project.I also have a world of work.At Camberwell I was a tireless young apprentice.It's always a good thing to pretend you know less than you really do.Dalio was stalking the Maitland Road flatmate, I could see that clearly.He allegedly waived rent by renovating his house with labor instead of cash.Most of his work is painting, but he also does electrical repairs, carpentry, plastering and plumbing.He does things clumsily.Paint the room, but don't even bother to stick tape to the wooden frame.I reminded him once and he said it was a waste of time.Just don't shake your hands.The result is paint splatters everywhere.His poor carpentry skills can also be seen in the jagged edges, protruding screws and mismatched seams.If his electrician had been of the same caliber, the home might have caught fire.

I thought about bringing it up to Miles, but it would be contentious, and it wouldn't fit the image I'd created.Currently I'm the perfect roommate, always helping out with the dishes and being the peacemaker.It is always useful to store shells capable of attacking others for later firing. I want to get to know each roommate individually.I went into the garden one evening to take down the shirts hanging on the clothesline and found Dalio huddled in a corner, smoking weed.He handed me the joint and I smoked it too. It's good stuff, don't you think?He said. This stuff doesn't do much for me.I've always had a hard time understanding why drugs mattered so much to some people, why they cared so much.yes.Really superb.

I gave it back to Dalio, and he took a deep, burning cigarette. If you want, I can arrange some goods for you, he said, it's very cheap.Just say it. I didn't answer.Turns out that's how he made his pocket money. Don't tell Miles, Dalio says; he throws the cigarette butt away and stomps on it.He's a little nervous about this thing. Earlier I called Estelle on her cell phone and asked if she wanted to go shopping together.She suggested meeting at a bar on the weekend.By the time I got to the Horse and Jockey, the bar was full of other couriers, overflowing the door and standing on the sidewalk.It was like a big, loud party to which I wasn't invited, except that I was.I looked around and found Estelle sitting with a black man in his thirties, a stocky man in a T-shirt and jeans, with a big shaved head.I don't know if this is another boyfriend of hers, but after her introduction, I learned that his name is Campbell, and he is her so-called boss.I offered her, Campbell, and the guy on the other side of her a drink, and I ordered a drink myself; they moved me at the table.I had a lot of fun sitting there watching this marvelous group.There are cyclists in bright yellow jackets who look like Tour de France cyclists, scruffy-looking young men in tank tops and cropped jeans, and older, gray-haired, dark-skinned men with dreadlocks or ponytails man.I sat and sipped my drink and listened to their banter, gossip, and occasional customer complaints.

The problem was that Campbell came back with another round of booze and told everyone that a courier's life was spent among one rich man after another.They crossed the threshold, saw the upper-class people with servants and luxurious entrances, and then went out to ride bicycles. So you really hate the people you want to deliver?I asked Estelle. She laughed, her eyes sparkled, and was about to answer when another man named Neil interrupted her at the table.Basically, what we're providing is a service that they can take advantage of, whether that's delivering a consignment of valuables, or buying them a hot dog. Estelle laughed again.And we're free to call them arrogant bastards with too much money to spend. Valuable objects? Mostly documents.She winked at Neal as she spoke.Could he be another ex-boyfriend? Then came Paige.I used her as a practice object, sort of like a take home from Portuguese class.I find her uninteresting and unattractive and on the other hand wonder what she thinks of me.Will she think of me as the son she never had?Or see me as a wolfhound in a sexual fantasy?Although this idea is weird, it is not impossible.Mothers often flirt with their sons, although they are shocked when you point it out to them.And it is very possible that an old woman does not feel old.They still harbor the illusion that young people may fall in love with them, that young people will see in their old age the youthful beauty of the past.The thought of a woman like Astrid turning into Paige was terrifying to me. I decided to talk to Paige as a young cutie like Estelle, not her old, decrepit self.In the past few weeks, I have met her on the street several times, and she usually invites me to her house for tea.The third time I accepted her for a drink, she pulled a half-full bottle from the fridge.We drank together in her garden because the weather was warm and the days were getting longer as the season progressed into summer.I sat very close to her, nudged her from time to time during the conversation, and put my hand on the other's arm when I made an argument, like a young man.As I did so, I could see her eyes twinkle in eager approval.The funny thing is, I think Peggy does a better job of talking to her as a young cutie than when I talk to real young cuties.I can't help but think that when I talk to young girls in the future, I should imagine that I'm talking to old women pretending to be young girls.Life is really complicated. Whenever she left me alone in her kitchen, even for a few minutes, I would drop some of her money for the booze I needed to play the generous roommate.The third time, that May evening, we had a good talk, and she was delighted by my attentions, so I played a little harder, and took twenty or thirty pounds.But I guess she wouldn't mind.That counts as my hourly fee for bringing her happy hour. I love the life I'm living right now and feel my strength growing with each passing day.Even though my roommates have known each other longer than I have, I know a lot of secrets that they don't.I watch them, peek into their bedrooms.I know what Dalio did to the home and what kind of pictures Owen took.I also know Margaret.Farrell.No one else knew her, nor did they know that I knew her.I've seen pipa naked.She has also seen me without clothes on.Things didn't work out.But is there a difference?When I met her later, she was as friendly as ever.There seemed to be no rancor between us.Does she sympathize with me for that?Pity me?despise me?Still feel nothing?Naturally there were other men in her bed after me, and I don't think they would hold back in a pinch like I did.I was just another name on her list, and one that wasn't officially listed.I don't know if I should choose another time to fight with her.I am afraid that I will fail again.It's still easier for women to do that kind of thing.