She got normal, after it wasn't so normal because it was all fighting
She was just fucking counting, you know, just sitting there and fucking counting, each piece, like he was a goddamn set of marbles. He gets up, stands on the sink, squats. You're going to break the sink, she says. She is looking at her nails and filing them. I'm not gonna break the fucking sink. He spits on his toes. God damn fucking crazy bitch, she is, you know, she's got some nerve to take us out, show us around that entire factory and then come back, as if she didn't know that whole time, as if she wasn't thinking about, oh shit, I have a man blown to pieces in my goddamn office and now I'm going to go pick him up, piece by piece, and put him in a bag and bury him. You don't know she buried him. What you think she ate him? Get a grip, Kelsie. He hops off the sink and stretches his lower back. The sun has come up now, between the buildings at first, and now into the bathroom. He squints. She's gonna have something coming to her, you know, something that she doesn't expect, something that is gonna knock her off this blithely indifferent bullshit. She just watched her best friend get blown to pieces, Pete. What do you think she should do? Act normal? Give me a break. Kelsie sits on the toilet. She is still looking at her nails. I wouldn't for a second think you'd know what to do if Scott got blown up. I don't expect you'd know exactly how to react--Well I sure as shit wouldn't pick him up piece by piece and put him in a goddamn sack. That's for sure. What would you do? Call the police? Call his parents? Jesus, Kelsie, you sound like a fucking nut. Yes, I'd call the cops, I'd call his parents. He is looking at the street. That man is still bugging people, he thinks. The man with the new tennis shoes, clean haircut, begging. Give it a break, asshole, you're obviously not on the brink. Now I have to go back there and see her again and ask her if she's all right, if she got rid of the body all right. He yawns and scratches his stomach. I hate that crazy bitch. She saved your ass more than once. What? You should be glad you have a job, Pete. You should be glad you can walk over there and dick around all day and not worry about it. So she has to exercise a different type of social control. It is her place. And I wouldn't start complaining, not right now. Yelling starts in the other room. Fuck, they are already up. Yeah and they are gonna be asking about their uncle, if not today, then tomorrow and if you go and tell them that he got blown up and Lucy put him in a bag--then what? Well, I'm not gonna like it all that much. I have far too much to do this week, we have the builders coming on Thursday and after that, well, you know, its the holidays and then your parents are coming, and they just don't need this right now. Besides, its not like she blew him up. I wish they'd stop yelling so early and just decide they hate each other. Yeah, me too, then maybe we all wouldn't be picking up pieces of each other and putting them in bags.