{"id":6897,"date":"2022-06-20T09:00:12","date_gmt":"2022-06-20T09:00:12","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/floridareview.cah.ucf.edu\/?post_type=article&p=6897"},"modified":"2022-06-20T09:00:12","modified_gmt":"2022-06-20T09:00:12","slug":"portal","status":"publish","type":"article","link":"https:\/\/cah.ucf.edu\/floridareview\/article\/portal\/","title":{"rendered":"Portal"},"content":{"rendered":"

\u201cWhat about these?\u201d Lucy said, holding up a pair of deep blue pants. We were surrounded by pants\u2014there must\u2019ve been hundreds of them, in all colors and sizes, all stacked in tidy piles on the tables around us, a true pants emporium. It had been over a year since the last time we were in a department store and I couldn\u2019t stop myself from touching the fabric. I held the pants at my waist, and it appeared they might be the right size. My girlfriend had a knack for picking out clothes for me, so I took the pair to the dressing room.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Every part of the mall felt cooled and brightly lit, like a dream. The attendant checked how many items I had, gave me a plastic card with a black 1<\/em> on both sides, and showed me to my stall, near the back of the room by a triptych of mirrors.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

I searched for a lock on the door, but evidently it was one that locked automatically. I was halfway through taking off my jeans when I heard a faint sound from the stall next to mine. It sounded like a woman\u2019s voice, familiar but too distant for me to place. It was probably just interference coming from the speakers that piped in wordless pop hits. \u201cSay you love me,\u201d she said. There was a murmured response and then a rustling, like covers or bed sheets. This time it really sounded like it came from the stall next to mine. Maybe I\u2019d somehow ended up in the women\u2019s dressing room by accident. I tried to ignore it and finished taking off my pants.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u201cSay you love me,\u201d she moaned, and this time I recognized the woman\u2019s voice as belonging to my mother, which was, of course, impossible, and so I guided my foot down the right leg of the pants my girlfriend had picked out.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u201cI love you,\u201d a soft voice said. \u201cI love you for all time.\u201d There was no mistaking it: the voice was my father\u2019s, which was, of course, also impossible due to several obvious reasons but chiefly among them the fact that my parents divorced two years after I was born, although I\u2019d never quite understood why. Never feeling close enough to either to ask why, I carried it with all the other unknowns of my life that I’d accepted, unknowns like what were my ancestors doing in 783 A.D.? Or how much do my memories weigh? Unfortunately, there was only one way to know what was happening over there. As quietly as I could, I stepped up onto the bench where I\u2019d set my belt and keys and phone. On my tiptoes, I\u2019d be tall enough to peer over, which I\u2019d only need to do for a second. Then came the click of a lighter and a deep exhale. I took a deep breath and braced myself for whatever was on the other side. The most notable thing about the stall next to mine was how large it was, big enough to hold a bed, and indeed, there was a bed in there with two people rolling around in it. The man, who looked just like the man in the photos of my father holding me as a baby, was smoking a cigarette and looked directly at me with his green eyes. I ducked back onto my side.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Had I been spotted? Would they call security? What would Lucy think? Not good, I thought, not good and very dumb move on my part! I remained totally motionless, like some sad animal whose only remaining defense was to play dead. I listened. \u201cI don\u2019t feel so good,\u201d the woman said. \u201cOh god not good I think I\u2019m going to\u2014\u201d But then another person was there soothing her, telling her she\u2019d be fine and that a doctor was on the way. \u201cIt\u2019s been months of this,\u201d she said. \u201cI hate it.\u201d<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

There was a knock on the door. I struggled to slide my other leg into the pants. My calf squeezed, thighs felt like sausages, butt cheeks pressed together. \u201cJust a second!\u201d I yelled. There\u2019d been no new sounds from next door.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u201cYou doing okay in there?\u201d Lucy asked. \u201cTaking forever. Let me see.\u201d<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

I\u2019d barely zippered up when I opened the door and stumbled out.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u201cOh,\u201d Lucy said, disappointed. \u201cThey\u2019re\u2026definitely too small.\u201d<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u201cWhat if they\u2019re high-waisted,\u201d I said and tried hiking them up, remembering an episode of The Twilight Zone<\/em> where some fellas had their trousers up past their belly buttons.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u201cNo,\u201d Lucy said, with a concerned look. \u201cStop that. Do you want to try another pair?\u201d<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u201cThanks, that\u2019s alright,\u201d I said. \u201cI\u2019m getting hungry.\u201d<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Lucy left, and I closed the door so I could squirt myself out of the pants like toothpaste, but as soon as the door closed I heard wailing. Back at my post on the bench, I knew I had to peer over one last time. Down below me, on a couch in a sparse apartment, sat a woman that looked just like my mother, trying to get a baby to latch on her breast. \u201cOw!\u201d she said. \u201cFuck. Carl, he bit me. Carl? Where are you? Carl, I\u2019m bleeding.\u201d And while she fed the baby she started to cry, and then said, \u201cNo. Nope, no,\u201d and brushed her cheeks with the back of her hand.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

It could have been that I was standing on my toes for too long, or that the pants had cut off the blood to my feet, but I felt them sparkle and tingle. I got down and peeled off the pants as quickly as I could. On my way out of the dressing rooms I peeked under the stall next to mine. No one was there.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Back on the floor, Lucy had another pair of pants in her hand and sized them up on me.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u201cWhat about these?\u201d she said.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

They were very nice pants, there was no disputing that: a nice cut, not too baggy, nothing pre-distressed, demanding to be broken-in, glowing with potential. I told her they were great but not for me. Someone else would love them, I could already see it.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

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