She chuckles dryly, harsh and static over the phone.
"You won't call me. How kind of you."
I nod, even though she can't see me.
"You got your computer ready?" she asks me. I pull it out from under my bed. The keys are cold to the touch—a new thought: This is what my body feels like. Metallic, manufactured, void of color. Strips of black and white.
"Now, I don't know how much you know about this website, but I want you to go on to Craigslist."
"Craigslist? I'm broke, Mandy," interrupt her. "Broke broke. Not in the cute way."
"You're not buying shit with your public library money, Soleil," she continues. "You're selling something. Yourself."
My time to chew on silence. It tastes funny. It breaks all my teeth.
"That's not funny, Mandy. I just told you that I want to kill myself, and you're making jokes about it?"
"Who said I was joking?" she replied back sharply. "You think I'm joking? My heart's in my throat, Soleil. It's taking every inch of my strength not to cry while I talk to you on this phone. You want to make jokes? Fine. But I'm not joking."
"Okay, Mandy."
She sighs. "Okay, Soleil."
"I meant sell your friendship. Soleil Adams, 19 years old, black Scorpio who hates people but works at the public library."
"I don't hate people," I correct her. "I hate people who hate people and take it out on me."
"There you go, $100 and a sleeping buddy right there."
I can feel her smile. It slips through telephone wires, drips onto my face.
"What if no one answers?"
"Then fix your ringtone. Someone's got to hear it ringing."
Mandy and the metaphor. Friends since birth.
"I'll do it."
"Send me the link when you do."
"And what do I do if that doesn't work?" What if I forget to be scared of a rope? What if I call you anyway?
The line muffles slightly. It takes a moment before it is clear again:
"I have a friend who knows somebody whose a therapist. You let me know if I need to call. Okay, Solo?"
"Okay, Mandy. Sleep well."
"You too. Wake up tomorrow morning."
"I will. I hope you do too."
The line cuts. Silence chews on itself.
I look at the white box I'm supposed to fit myself inside. The alphabet rearranged to write life into person, to clothe themselves with. Black letters and red lines.
Soleil A. Black individual living and managing loneliness in potentially dangerous ways. Seeking something to look at instead of the white ceiling. Preferably something that she can touch. Preferably something that responds to the touch. Perfectly something she can hold on to. Not a vampire but can not accept calls earlier than dusk. Please call for further inquiries.
Soleil Adams is a nineteen year old resident of New York City, a librarian by day and insomniac by night who has taken to crawling up walls in the pursuit of closeness and asking the girl inside her mirror questions that she never answers. She can't speak French her mother was just drunk but also sober enough not to name her daughter Rosé. Sometimes she wears the lipstick she wore on past dates to remind herself she still exists. Soleil enjoys listening to very loud music to fill her very quiet house and southern cuisine and also engaging children in the topic of literature. Please email for further inquires and if you know how to push up against walls instead of crawl on them. Do not contact ever if your favorite form of punctuation is the question mark.
I'm Soleil and I am currently seeking a roommate or a boyfriend or a best friend. I'm not sure which one is best or what I really want but feel free to apply for any one of these positions.
solo mielle A-D-A-M-S professional baby sister privately known as sweetheart book keeper diagnosed with depression at age 14 swallowed it until it threatened to swallow her at age 19 afraid of ropes circuses men elephants loves pills michael jackson men audre lorde searching for 1. herself in her reflection 2. her silver wire rim glasses with the golden star glued to each handle please call (718-111-1111) f you would like to help her look or have found either of these things
S.M. Adams, 19 years, BK native. Vacant building looking for furniture. Looking for a man. sunhoney@yahoo.com.
the first part
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