THENEWYORKER,OCTOBER3, 2022 23
SHOUTS & MURMURS
I
want to know you. The real you.
Everything about you.
You captivated me the minute I first
saw you on my morning commute. I
have never seen someone so gorgeous
get stuck between the train doors like
that. The doors Heimliched one of
those hefty Ricola cough drops out of
your mouth and into mine, and it
lodged in my windpipe. I choked, but
tried to play it cool by returning to
drafting an e-mail to the animal shel-
ter about how it needs to take my dip-
shit dog back before I abandon her in
an IKEA for some horrible family to
take pity on. Is it not fate that you and
I both love and/or like and/or toler-
ate honey lemon?
Be vulnerable with me. No shal-
low stuff. I didn’t wiretap your phone
to hear you make small talk. What’s
your relationship history like? Have
you ever hurt anyone? I have, but only
with my car. And it was a rental, so
it doesn’t count.
“What’s your deal?!” you scream in
my face. God, we’re so similar. That’s
what I want to ask you. Do you have
siblings? A job? What are your par-
ents like? I’m sure I’ll get a chance to
ask after I’m done mugging you. Your
brawny arm reaches around to your
back pocket as the barrel of my gun
bounces against your chest. “Stop it!”
you shout. You never say “I have a
family!” or “Tell my girlfriend I love
her.” I’ve never blushed this hard while
wearing a ski mask. Finally, a good
man who’s single.
You’re so full of mystery. Your I.D.
says you’re from Delaware. What could
that possibly mean?
What do you think of me? I re-
turn your wallet because I am, above
all, a good person. There were only
ones in there anyway. You tell me
that I look familiar. I bet you’ve seen
me in the park district’s P.S.A.s on
kayak safety (“Girl #3 Brutally Cap-
sizing”). You tell me I look like the
girl in your recurring nightmare in
which your co-worker’s whole family
is mad at you at the Cheesecake Fac-
tory. The girl lurks in the parking lot
and hisses. I would not personally rec-
ommend this as a way to ask some-
one out, but it is a fascinating insight
into your psyche.
I want to know everything about
you, or at least enough to get the gist.
Properly and safely consuming a ba-
nana split takes two hands and full
mental energy. God, this thing is huge.
Do banana splits usually have blueber-
ries, or is this what I think it is, a mod-
ern twist on an old classic? You’ve been
talking quite a bit on our first date, but
I’ve tuned out. You mentioned some-
thing a while ago about having a lot of
debt, but I’ll fill in the blanks later, like
I did on jury duty. I tune back in when
you ask me if I’ll help you. I’ve never
helped anyone before, but I’m sure I’ll
be good at it.
Relationships are all about trust, so
I trust that you’ll understand why I was
a little late (two hours) to the funeral
service we’re holding after faking your
death. I had a doctor’s appointment,
which is a perfectly accurate way to
characterize getting Botox at the med
spa. But everything’s going as planned.
I am clicking through a slide show of
every picture I’ve taken of you when
you weren’t looking, and talking way
louder when I hear you snoring from
the closed casket. Your mother just
turned to some lady and asked, “Who
is this bitch?” An angry man no one
seems to know seethes at the end of
the farthest pew. I cannot move my
face. Remember when Colin Powell
died? I was just thinking about that. I
might try micro-needling next.
What are your life’s greatest accom-
plishments? I wish I had asked you
before running out of things to say
during the eulogy. I pivot to talking
about how it was a human-rights vi-
olation for the grocery store to ban me
for juggling produce, especially when
it was only moderately violent, and
much of the violence was actually per-
petrated against me, when employees
pelted me with oranges.
Can you relax? We deserve a vaca-
tion. We deserve this Cape Cod beach.
No one can hurt us here. The angry
man from the pew is marching toward
us, but I’m sure he’s wielding that knife
at someone behind us.
I want to know everything about
your body. I know it’s not ideal to be
blindfolded and thrown into a trunk,
but do you mind shifting a little to your
right? I need more room. Can you stop
freaking out? It’s really difficult for me
to handle, given that I’m a bad listener.
Do you dream? I want to build our
lives together, retire together, and, if
we ever get out of this padlocked base-
ment, defraud investors together, in
one of those white-collar scandals that
get covered by Bloomberg. Maybe we
will spend Saturday mornings making
mimosas and French toast. If your nose
doesn’t stop whistling soon, I swear to
God, I will kill you.
I’ll never rest until I know every-
thing there is to know about you.
What’s your name again?
I WANT TO KNOW YOU
BY RIMAPARIKH
LUCI GUTIÉRREZ
