And, as bad as this sounds, next thing I knew I was asleep, back at my desk eight in the morning when Davis arrived and woke me sniffing the air like a hound.  "You're a little disheveled this morning.

And what's that smell?"

"Was I here all night?"

       "I don't know, were you?"

                                   "You would know," Is said. "Was I home last

night?  Wasn't I sleeping on the couch as usual?"

"Actually, I didn't check.  Come to think of it, though, I didn't hear anyone talking in their sleep.  Too bad.  Maria would'vr been amused."

"I'm not drunk, not anymore.  Am I?  I mean, how long is it suppose to last?"  I hadn't even looked at him yet, except his feet--I could see that much, his sneakers.

"I never told you," he said, laughing, "last week, I guess it was Sue--she thought you were hilarious.  Really, you were great.  We must've sat there beside the couch for twenty minutes listening to you.  Of course I had to prompt you a little, to keep you going."

"weren't you at that party?  I thought I saw you--"

"How would you possibly remember?  But, oh boy, that night last week, you said something like 'I can't even hear you anymore.'  Suw was cracking up.  No, that's right, it was Sara.  I said, 'I'm shouting in your ear.'  You said, 'But your hands are so fast.'  Then you got mad at us for laughing.  I thought for sure you were awake, the way you tried to kill Sara.  Don't you remember? I doubt she'll ever come back, but that's okay.  It was worth it."

"It's okay?  You're not going to fire mr?"

"Oh that.  Yes, you're history around here.  Start packing, baby."

"It was a conspiracy!"

"Think so?  How's it feel?"  He was wearing jeans, a pink dress shirt and red tie.  I'd finally managed to look up at him.  I knew I stunk from more than just booze that had sloshed out of the funnel, if there had been a party.  The memory was already fading.  My hair was literally matted.  I was feeling the back of it, half expecting something to move.  For some reason my eyes were fixed on his tie--it was a narrow tie, my eyes felt cross from staring at it.  He'd worn that same tie when he'd ask me to share his apartment, and every time he wore it after that I'd had to smile and was in a good mood all day, until I went home and remembered I was still sleeping on the couch.  My back would ache in the mornings, and sometimes I had to get up early to do stretching exercises and a girl would come sneaking out of his bedroom at six or six-thirty.  Usually the girl would get mad and leave in a huff because I was suppose to stay on the couch with a blanket over my head until the coast was clear.  If his night had gone well, he might be angry at me for getting up early, but if the visitor had bombed, he wouldn't say anything one way or the other.

Even before I moved into his apartment, I was always aware of him, like an electrical excitement that remained hovering, waiting to cause lightning, and he might at any moments burst out of his office to pace around the main room, picking up objects from people's desks, putting them down on other desks, sometimes carrying a stapler and vase of flowers halfway around the room until something else caught his eye.  He was always moving.  Even when he talked to one person at a time, like at my intervies, he sat, then stood, then walked around his desk, pausing behind me to put his hands on the back of my chair and rock it a few times, then jumping up to hit the ceiling with his hand.  He offered me donuts and coffee which he didn't have.  I accepted, then looked around for the coffeepot, saw none, but he never brought it up again.  He was too interested in where I came from.  "you were born in Idaho!"  He jumped from his seat again.  "Yes, but--"

"Great state, isn't it, nice summer evenings for playing outside."

I shrugged.  "It's the kind of state no one ever thinks about."

"I do.  A lot."  He picked up my application, seemed to read it, then folded it in half, and the half in halves.  "I was born there too, did you know that?"

"No,"I smiled.

"I mean, could you tell?  Is there anything similar about the two of us, anything you recognize?"

"Actually, we seem to be fairly differeent,"  I laughed.  Iwas about ten to fifteen pounds overweight,sitting there calmly,quite comfortable, just the usual job interview jitters.  He was thin and continued moving around the room, coming back now and then to fold my application another rime.

"You're right about that, sister.  I mean, remember that, Miss...."

"Bacilla."

"You married?  Where'd you get a name like that?"

"No, not married.  Engaged though."

"I'm going to hire you," he said, "know why?  I don't even know yet myself, but there is a reason.  You'll find out.  Maybe you'll even be sorry.  That'd be nice.  You'd deserve that, wouldn't you?"  He was smiling,showing almost all his teeth, his eyebrows raised and brow creased many times.

I laughed.  It was that point in an interview when the tension would be dissipating.

"I'm serious," he said, the same smile, but his eyebrows came down.

"Of course you are!"  I chuckled.  "Why else would anyone want a job, except to be sorry they got it!"

"No, I'm serious."  His smile eased but didn't disappear.  He was pinching his thumb in a staple remover.  "Have a family?  Bet they're all waiting by the phone up in Idaho to find out how their little Precious makes out with her first job in the big city, but you won't call, will you-- no, you'll wait until they call you.  Want to know why no one called me when I arrived from Idaho?  They didn't know I was here.  Bet they don't even know now.  Do they?"  Abruptly he sent me out of his office.

Later that same day there was a birthday party in the lobby.  Someone handed him a piece of cake, but he just held it drawing in the frosting with his finger, but never ate any.  "I'm fasting," he said, "cleansing myself."  Every time I took a bite of cake, I looked up to find him staring at me, grinning.  When he asked me to move in with him, I didn't have to hesitate for a second before I agreed.