I Remember All of Them

Hollander is on the wrong side of the bed. Ilya wills him to move, to answer the question himself. The underwear are by the chair, where Ilya sat while they were still laughing. While they were playing. Right before Hollander really started to perform. Boxers flying across the room. Fingers inside for Ilya to see.

Hollander frees the blanket from the bed while he walks around looking. Clutches it to his chest, stumbling over the too-long lumpiness of it. Hollander shouldn't be uncomfortable being naked. This shouldn't be different from the locker room.

Over there, Ilya says, with a pointing movement of his chin.

It's not a helpful instruction. Hollander looks around, barely breathing, the frown deep on his mouth like a scar. He doesn't look like he can see well. It's dim, sure. But he looks like he is seeing something other than the room in front of him.

Ilya taps another cigarette from the pack. Hollander looks at him because of the noise, like Ilya will be holding what he's looking for. Ilya has nothing.

Oh, okay. Over here, Hollander whispers, to no one. He doesn't put on the underwear. He holds them to his chest, letting the blanket trail behind him until he releases it totally, disappearing into the next room.

Ilya listens to Hollander ready himself to leave. He must unfold his clothes. He must pull them over a sweaty body. Hollander likes being clean. He would normally shower. Ilya doesn't offer and Hollander doesn't ask. Ilya doesn't feel like showering either. He feels like taking an imprint of the night with him. Maybe the empty shell of Hollander's body around him will work to keep him upright when daylight comes. A husk to one side and the cup on the other, uneven pillars. Maybe a memory can keep him whole.

He puts the cigarette in his mouth.

Okay, I'm off.

Goodbye Hollander.

"Miss" means an unmarried woman. "Mrs." means a married woman. (both of these have origins in the word "mistress" as in "mistress of the house".)

I've had people (usually children) ask me at work if I'm a missus or a miss. I have replied that I am a miz, full stop. And when they pressed for which one I was REALLY, I have replied, "Why? Are you going to treat me differently depending on whether there's a ring somewhere?"

That's what Ms. is for. That is its linguistic function. It says, "This is an adult woman," and nothing else. Nothing else is necessary, and in my case, nothing else is desired.

I also use miz for other women unless and until they express a preference for something else because I don't magically know everyone else's marital status when I meet them. That's a courtesy—I'm declining to assume marital status and allowing them to decide whether they wish to declare it.

Some practices in b&w 🤍

shane hollander - "who are you when you aren't performing?"