The Middle Stories by Sheila Heti Read Free Book Online Page A

arms and neck. She looked across the table and caught the man grinning up at her, head tilted, eyes bright.
    “What is it, John?” Eleanor put down her spoon and looked around uncomfortably.
    “Ah, you’re just so…” He shook his head as if in awe, then happily went back to eating his ice cream.
    This happened two more times.
    As they were getting up to leave she told him that it might be best if he just walked her home now. Once outside, he attempted to put his coat around her shoulders but she told him it was unnecessary, that the coat she was wearing was fine. When they reached her gate, he held it open and stood there politely, not expecting a kiss.
    “Well, I am pleased about the ice cream,” she said with dignity, aware of herself as considerably more mature than when the evening began.
    “You’re welcome, Eleanor,” he said, and produced that same moony smile he’d given her at the ice cream shop. She wondered if he could see through her dress.
     
     
    IN THE HOUSE it was warm, like summer, and the lamps shed a peachy light on everything. It was the perfect house to come home to. As she hung up her coat with a weary hand, she noticed the present he had given her resting on a stand in the vestibule. She wasn’t so interested in opening it now. It was as though she expected to see his grinning face winking up at her from the bottom. She lifted it and took it into the living room, sat down in a plush armchair, and rested it on her knees. She didn’t usually drink, but she would have gone and poured herself some booze from the cupboard if it hadn’t been for that big box in her lap. She began untying the ribbon when the boys’ mother softly appeared around the edge of the doorframe.
    “Oh,” she said in her gentle voice. “You’re back.”
    “Yes,” Eleanor said, with slight pride. “He gave me this present.”
    “Well that’s very romantic,” said the mother. “That’s very sweet and romantic.” She looked around. “I should think.”
    “Do you want to open it?” Eleanor asked pointlessly, and her newfound refinement faded into mush. The boys’ mother always made her feel common and awkward. She was upset. The change within her had seemed permanent, but it was nothing.
    “Oh no,” whispered the mother in such a light, airy voice. She was so slight; not like a bird, more like a feather.
    “I’ll just go,” she said, hesitating a little, obviously wanting to stay, but leaving anyway.
    Eleanor returned to the gift. She unfolded the paper, which was red with blue-and-yellow boats, and opened the box, first glancing away, then looking down into it. Lying at the bottom was a beanie with a visor. It was made up of six colored wedges leading down from a button—purple, green, yellow. It was way too small for her head.
    She put the lid back on the box and placed it down beside the chair, then started up the stairs to bed. She had no idea why he had given her such a ridiculous and inappropriate gift. It didn’t even make her laugh.

THE ACCIDENT
     
    THERE WAS AN accident on the street yesterday. Seven cars piled up one after another, pressing into the backs of each other. When I saw it (people tell me) I put my hands to my face and I screamed. Then I passed out. As it turns out, quite a number of people who were on the street saw fit to help me—and not the people scrunched in those cars. Could be because I’m beautiful.
    I have been told that I’m beautiful ever since the world first saw my face. I have considered this something of a charming feature of my personality, partly because it means that whatever else slips away, whatever else I am incapable of, I still have one thing most people don’t: beauty.
    When I came to, the first thing I saw was the face of a moustached man. He was wearing a hat and looking down concerned into my eyes. I blinked up at him and he lifted his face in pure joy. “She’s all right!” The small crowd that had gathered about me cheered, and I was helped