You don’t always see that, a big woman who looks powerful, who looks like she could rub you into a serious problem, into pain. What you see more often is fat fingers, fat wrists and arms. I’m not saying it’s my thing, but I’ve seen it. You can’t help seeing it.
Some of them, yes, the fat ones, they are nice people, except for the ones who aren’t, but who cares in the end, really. It’s not important for them to be nice, only good at what they do. Show a little enthusiasm, pretend. It seems maybe the fat ones are better at this, at feigning interest. One doesn’t like to make generalizations, but sometimes one cannot keep from doing so.
In this case, one is me. I am almost always one. Particularly when I say one doesn’t like making generalizations.
I am also you most of the time.
I like to speak on behalf of the whole world whenever I can.
My neighbor lives on the same floor as I do. I have never seen her bring anyone home, have never seen anyone leaving her apartment. The noise that comes from her place is usually dull, sometimes jazz or the quiet drone of a television. The dog barks quite a lot if it hears something or someone in the hall. Sometimes I’m in the hall and the dog is barking and I know my neighbor isn’t home and I think about knocking on the door, slipping cheese under there, something. I think I heard once that dogs can’t digest cheese.
I see her outside the building, almost always with the dog. I see her talking to other dog owners. They all seem like nice people. I’m sure some of them get massages.
Some of the big ones like to get up on the table for leverage, but I’m hoping she doesn’t, hoping she stays grounded. It’s usually the Asian girls who do this, but they’re always tiny. Sometimes you can’t even tell they’re on the table with you. I think they used to walk on your back years ago, but I don’t think this is offered anymore.
I can’t say I was stunned when she answered the door. I can’t say I was surprised, either. I’m always prepared for disappointment. I’m more than prepared, actually, I expect disappointment. It’s almost as if I would be disappointed if I wasn’t disappointed.
Maybe she is strong. I am waiting for her to demonstrate strength. So far, she is lightly rubbing my back, not doing anything you’d need a license for, a certificate. So far, she’s talking about her teenage daughter. The daughter is giving her trouble, smoking, drinking, staying out late, lying to her own mother about smoking and drinking and staying out late. The big woman says she did all of these things back home but that she hoped it would skip a generation. I tell her it’s nothing to worry about, I tell her it’s normal.
She asks me what I do and I tell her I’m between jobs. I always say this, hoping for a discount. It’s never worked. Even still, they don’t need to know what I do and where I do it. I could tend bar, wait tables, drive a truck, practice proctology, or be a state senator and the conversation would be the same.
There is music playing. She asks if I mind and I say I do not. If the music was bad or if it bothered me, I’d say so. This one likes to talk a lot. She says she’d like to be on TV someday, wants to know if I know anyone who works in TV. I tell her the people who make television wouldn’t have anything to do with me. I tell her they have their own agenda. She makes a sound from deep in her throat when I say this, so I say that the people on television aren’t actual people, that they aren’t the people you see walking around in the world.
Once I saw a mama-san on the street, handing out business cards. She didn’t recognize me. Otherwise, she did. Either way, I kept walking.
This big one isn’t digging in. In fact, her touch is soft. Maybe she is afraid she’ll hurt me. Sometimes they ask if you want hard or soft. They always go soft later, before the flip, but it’s best to dig in at first, work the muscles. This one isn’t doing that. She drapes her body over my back and sometimes talks into it. Sometimes I can’t hear what she’s saying.
We are back on the daughter, I think. The big one says she is having a sleepover, says she is going to wind up pregnant. She says she cannot take care of a baby again, says once was enough. She is not ready to be a grandmother. I tell her she’d make a sexy grandmother, but it’s not true. Still, people like to hear this kind of thing about themselves.
I don’t think there is anything wrong with being nice to people, even if you have to lie.
She tells me I’m a good person. I like hearing this because it’s true. She tells me not everyone is a good person but that most people are, at least her clients. I want to ask how many she has, if she sees all of them here, but I don’t. I want to ask if any of them ask for anything crazy. I want to ask if she has a menu, any hard limits. But you can’t ask these kinds of questions the first time you see someone, the first time you’ve been inside her house.
