How to Pronounce Knife - Souvankham Thammavongsa Page 0,36

all four corners for the number fifty, to be sure. He came over to the driver’s side and she opened the window just a slit. The bill slid out of the window like a tongue and he grabbed an edge. Mary revved her engine and sped away.

THE TOWN DID NOT encourage much walking around. There were no sidewalks, only grassy ditches on the side of the road. Most people drove pickup trucks and at interstate speed. Every bank had a drive-through window. The tax deadline was approaching, and Mary relied on being noticed for business. It would take some time before anyone did. She had to set up her office in a public place early this year, get a head start, especially in a town like this. Besides, she could use the money. She worked out a deal with the manager of the community centre to let her set up her office there, in front of the library. She brought in a foldable desk and put out her sandwich-board sign. She thought it was the perfect place. There was a lot of foot traffic. There was a pool and a gym too.

It was inevitable, in a town this small, that she would cross paths with the gas station man. She wasn’t surprised to see him at the community centre, though he appeared out of his element. His whole body was covered up. She wondered who was at the gas station now that he was here.

He noticed her sitting at her desk and came over. “Hey,” he said. “Can I ask you some questions?”

She did not like how he used that first word. Hey. As though she were some hole in the wall you could just stick your questions into.

“You have to make an appointment!” she yelled. There was fury in her voice. She pulled down the hem of her skirt, which had been creeping up, showing too much of her legs—her bony ankles, the muscled curve of her calves, the rough patches of her knees, and the area above that did not tan. Her work wardrobe was two black pencil skirts, one black jacket, and two black blouses, one short-sleeved and one long-sleeved. She owned nothing else, and the clothes fit every occasion.

He looked around, then said, “There’s no one here.”

It was true, but she was a professional. He couldn’t just walk up to her and take up her time as though it were free.

“I am a professional, sir,” she said. “Professionals make appointments.”

He laughed. “Okay then. Can I do that?”

While she considered her schedule, he took the seat in front of her.

“Oh. I get it,” he said. “Dressed in black. Death and taxes.”

She ignored his comment.

She handed him her business card and said, “How is nine o’clock tomorrow morning?”

“But I’m here now.”

“That’s correct, sir.”

“What’s the problem, then?”

“No problem. As I said, you don’t have an appointment.”

He seemed amused. “I never met anyone like you.”

She wondered whether that statement was a compliment or not. She decided it was an observation of a fact. Well, working at the gas station, she thought to herself, how could you?

“We’re done here,” Mary said, making a small circle in front of her with a finger, a boundary that needed to be drawn.

He put his hands up, as if preparing for an arrest, and said, “Ma’am, I like you. Sharp. Real tough. I’ll see you tomorrow.” And he got up and walked away.

Mary drove home that night glad she didn’t have to go by the gas station. She drove over three speed bumps on the road on purpose. She made sure she went slowly, so she could feel the rise and rise and rise and fall of the car. The buildup to the bounce was more pleasurable. Her eyes looking up at the ceiling of the car, her jaw loose and open.

When she got home, she wasn’t hungry. She took a shower, washed her hair, and polished her only pair of shoes. She read a book that had belonged to her since she was a little girl. It was about a monster, but it wasn’t scary at all. When she was about four, she wanted to be the beast. She roared and pounded at her chest and no one ever said that was not how a little girl should be. She could be ugly and uglier and even more ugly. She threw the book across the room. It left a dark mark on the wall, like a bruise. To be a monster, a beast of