Pov Ayanokoji:
It was a pain for my wallet; the bookstore doesn't pay enough to go to Greenpoint to hang out with upper-class people.
Although in this world there are poor people who go to expensive places to keep up appearances, then go without eating for a few days.
That's not my case.
I didn't go to Greenpoint; I had arrived at another place of interest. I highly doubt that my relationship with Beck will end just because I didn't go to that place; she'll understand.
It cost me about $200 to borrow a taxi and the taxi driver's app profile, where he would be out of work for the night because of me, charged me a high fare.
Now in possession of his car and waiting near Greenpoint, my call came. I adjusted my purchase and tested my tone of voice a little to give it some more emotion. I recorded it on my cell phone to check that the change was there, and it was.
I think.
Until a man called a taxi and the call came to me, near the Greenpoint train station.
Motor, motor, number nine on the New York line.
A few years ago, I heard a homeless man singing that song.
I wonder what became of him?
I arrived at the spot. To my surprise, it was just as I predicted. Joe had waited for Beck to get drunk so he could approach her and offer her help.
What I hadn't counted on was that Joe's shirt and jacket were stained with vomit, and it stank pretty bad. I'll have to send the car to the car wash, otherwise the owner will charge me more for this.
I avoided eye contact with both of them. I was wearing the hood of a black sweatshirt and sunglasses, which weren't prescription, so if they looked closely at the lenses, they would notice they were fake because of the lack of distortion.
I couldn't turn around to look, I could only glance in the small mirror above, just quick glances. Beck was a mess, a disaster, drunk to the limit and with her hair tangled, too messy. Did they try to rape her?
"Oh my God, I'm so sorry, really." Beck started apologizing and then drank some water.
She shouldn't drink the water so fast or she might throw up in the car.
Sorry, wallet.
"It's okay, it's okay, I hated this jacket, don't worry." He tried to relax her.
I'm pretty sure clothes are the least of her worries right now.
"I promise I'm not always like this."
"I figured you had some kind of rough night."
"Something like that." Beck started to close the bottle.
Joe told me the address and I started driving. It was Beck's address, but she was too drunk to realize that she hadn't given me the address. Or maybe she had told me before getting in the car.
"Hey, I don't want to sound like a stalker, but... I think I know you."
Joe's face changed to one of disbelief, decent acting, I think.
"Oh, sure, you're the, of course, you're the girl, I remember you."
Beck grabbed her hair to pretend she had it tied up.
"That's how I usually look. When I'm sober, I usually have my hair tied back."
"Yes, yes, now I remember."
"It's okay, I have a pretty bland and forgettable face.
"No, not at all." He became quite serious at the fact that she was criticizing her own face.
What kind of situation is this?
Amasawa Ichika was nowhere near the level of harassment I'm witnessing right now.
Joe, seeing that Beck was silent at his response, tried to continue the conversation.
"Yes, the girl in Paula Fox's book, I remember her well."
Time passed and the conversation didn't continue until.
"Didn't you come to New York to be something?" Beck settled in and continued. "I mean, I came to do that, but it's not working out very well. I'm just on the go all day, every day, why?
Beck stopped venting and looked at Joe for answers. He remained silent for a few seconds, probably not knowing what to say. I guess I wouldn't have an answer to that question either.
"Oh, never mind, sorry." Beck backed off.
"No, please, don't worry about it. I feel that way sometimes. This guy I know owns a bookstore, and he once told me that all books contain an essential truth about life. Which is that if your intelligence exceeds a certain number, life tends to be unbearable. Even if the number isn't that high."
Beck began to laugh softly.
"I think I'd be happier if I were stupider."
I think the people at ANHS would think she's stupid if she doesn't realize the situation she's in. Maybe she doesn't expect someone to be after her like this at this point.
"But then the world wouldn't know your poetry," Joe said until his eyebrows and eyes gave away that he had let that slip. I could see it in the rearview mirror.
"How do you know I write poetry?"
"Don't all young writers in New York? I've read a lot of poetry."
"Which writer do you like?" Beck began to fix her hair again, playing with it as she talked to Joe.
"Strand, Sexton, Merrill."
"You're describing the books I'm sure I have on my nightstand."
"Well, if you read them to go to sleep every night, you definitely belong here."
"What was your last name?"
Goldberg.
"Goldberg."
"Where are you from, Joe Goldberg?" Beck asked him and rested her head on the seat while looking at him.
"Well, I grew up here."
Beck's head began to fall, and Joe slowly leaned closer until Beck's head was resting on his right shoulder.
She closed her eyes, and he began to smile.
I wonder what he's thinking right now.
After about ten minutes, we arrived.
"Oh, this is where I live, huh."
"Hmm, not bad."
"Thanks for helping me there on the tracks, you saved my life."
"No, I didn't save your life."
"Yes, you did."
They remained silent, looking at each other. I sensed someone else approaching the car, but in the back, my passengers were quite close to each other.
If I calculate the time and steps of the other person, they won't have time to kiss before the other one arrives.
They had gotten a little closer, but a knock on the window brought them back to reality.
Benji had arrived. Beck told me about him.
I have no interest in talking to him, but if he had broken my window, we still wouldn't be talking. These years have shown me that drug addicts need to be taught a physical lesson.
"Hey Beck, I was waiting for you."
"Hey, Joe, this is my friend Benji, and Benji, this is Joe. He literally saved my life tonight. I fell onto the tracks. It was crazy."
"Baby, I told you that people are basically good." Good job, bro." Benji clenched his fist and shook it, cheering Joe on for his action. "Well, Beck, I'm freezing out here."
Benji walked away and headed for the door of Beck's house.
She looked at Joe and apologized to him.
She tried to give him her contact number, so she looked for her cell phone, but couldn't find it. She said she probably dropped it on the tracks and left it there.
In the end, Joe kept Beck's number.
She got out of the car, and Joe told me to just drive one more block ahead. He handed me the money on my right, and I took it without saying anything. He told me to stop, and he got out.
I guess he'll go back to watching the couple have sex.
I don't really understand his logic. Does he get turned on watching the girl he likes get fucked? Is that why he's so keen to get to know Beck? Why hasn't he tried to get to know Benji then? Benji has no idea who he is.
I still don't understand Joe Goldberg's mind.
If I were in love, I wouldn't masturbate watching the girl I like get fucked.