The Heart Goes Last

PITCH

Charmaine likes to be busy, but sometimes in the afternoons at Dust there's not much to be busy about. She's already wiped down the bar counter twice, she's rearranged some glasses. She could watch the nearest flatscreen, where a baseball replay is going on, but she isn't much interested in sports; she doesn't see why a bunch of men chasing each other around a field and trying to hit a ball and then hugging and patting butts and jumping up and down and yelling can get people so worked up.

The sound's turned down low, but when the ads are on it gets louder,

It's a man in a suit, just the head and the shoulders, looking straight out of the screen, right into her eyes.There's something convincing about him even before he speaks - he's so serious, like what he's about to say is very important. And when he does speak, she could swear he's reading her mind.

"Tired of living in your car?" he says to her. Really, straight to her! It can't be, because how would he even know she exists, but it feels like that. He smiles, such an understanding smile. "Of course you are! You didn't sign up for this.You had other dreams.You deserve better."

Oh yes,

It's everything she feels.

Next there's a shot of a gateway in something that looks like a shiny black‐glass wall, with people walking in - young couples, holding hands, energetic and smiling. Pastel clothing, springlike. Then a house, a neat, freshly painted house with a hedge and a lawn, no junked cars or wrecked sofas lying on it, and then the camera zooms in through the second‐floor window, past the curtains - curtains! - and moves through the room. Spa‐ cious! Gracious! Those words they use in the real estate ads for places in the countryside and on beaches, far away and in other countries.Through the open bathroom door there's a charming deep‐sided tub with lots of giant fluffy white towels hanging beside it. The bed is king‐sized, with nice clean sheets in a cheerful floral design, blue and pink, and four pil‐ lows. Every muscle in Charmaine's body yearns for that bed, those pillows. Oh, to stretch out! To fall into a comfortable sleep, with that safe, cozy feeling she used to have at Grandma Win's.

Not that Grandma Win's house was exactly the same as this one. It was a lot smaller. But it was tidy. She more or less remembers a different house, from when she was little; it might have been like the house onscreen. No: it

Clean that up! Don't talk back! S

There was a hole in her bedroom wall the size of a large fist. Not sur

"Remember what your life used to be like?" says the man's voice, during the tour of the sheets and pillows."Before the dependable world we used to know was disrupted? At the Positron Project in the town of Consilience, it can be like that again.We offer not only full employment but also protection from the dangerous elements that afflict so many at this time.Work with like‐minded others! Help solve the nation's problems of joblessness and crime while solving your own! Accentuate the positive!"

Back to the man's face. Not a handsome face as such, but a face you could trust. Sort of like a math teacher, or a minister.You can tell he's sincere, and sincere is better than handsome. Really handsome men were a bad idea, said Grandma Win, because they had too much to choose from. Too much what? Charmaine had asked her, and Grandma Win said, Never mind.

"The Positron Project is accepting new members now," says the man. "If you meet our needs, we'll meet yours.We offer training in many pro‐ fessional areas. Be the person you've always wanted to be! Sign up now!" That smile again, as if he's gazing deep inside her head. Not in a scary way though, in a kindly way. He only wants the best for her. She can be the person she's always wanted to be, after it was safe to want things for herself.

Come here. Don't think you can hide. Look at me.You're a bad girl, aren't you? No

Yes.

Stop that noise. Shut up, I said shut up!You don't even know what hurt is.

Forget those sad things, honey, Grandma Win would say. Let's make popcorn. Look, I picked some flowers

.

Halfway through the ad, Sandi and Veronica come in. Now they're sitting at the bar having Diet Cokes and watching the ad too."Looks great," Veronica says.

"No free lunch,"says Sandi."Too good to be true. That guy looks like a lousy tipper."

"It wouldn't hurt to try,"Veronica says."Can't be worse than the Fuck Tank. I'd go for those towels!"

"I wonder what's their game?" says Sandi.
"Poker," says Veronica, and they both laugh.

Charmaine wonders why that's funny. She isn't sure that they're the

Will there be a washer and dryer in that new home? Of course there will. And a dining table. Recipes: she'll be able to cook recipes again, the way she did after she and Stan got married. Lunches, intimate dinners, just the two of them.They'll sit on chairs while eating, they'll have real china instead of plastic. Maybe even candles.

Stan will be happy too: how could he not be happy? He'll stop being so grouchy.True, there's a grouchy part she'll have to guide him through first, the part where he'll say it's sure to be a scam like everything else, it's some kind of ripoff, and why bother applying because they won't get in. But nothing ventured, nothing gained, she'll say, and why don't they just try? She'll persuade him to do it, one way or another.

Worse comes to worst, she'll dangle the promise of sex. Sex in a luxurious king‐sized bed, with clean sheets - wouldn't Stan like that? With no maniacs trying to break in through the window. If necessary, she'll even put up with that cramped back‐seat car ordeal tonight, as a reward if he says yes. It won't be that much fun for her, but fun can wait until later. Until they're inside their new house.