this is how Eva died They had a good time. They had a past, just not together. She thought he was good looking. He was indifferent. He was actually just a dirty Frenchman, mixed with something else. Eva was a beauty. More beautiful than Jean. She was neurotic. He was insensitive. His cold arrogance turned her on.

but this is a story of how Eva died.

She made half as much money as Jean. But she was a mark. Everyone bled her for her money. This is why she could never get ahead. It's not that she was unselfish, she just lived every day like it was her last even though she was always planning for the future. She did like to destroy things, she found creation in such things.

They both new better than to talk too much or try to "get to know ya". She liked that everyone at the bar, boys, girls, whatevers, they all wanted to fuck or be fucked by him. He liked the fact that even though she was among the legions who would fuck or be fucked, she still knew that she could and probably would change her mind if he blew it by saying something stupid or becoming overenthusiastic and losing his "cool" facial control. Essentially, the ball was in her court as it is in every female's. Open-Shut.

But oh yeah, Eva's going to die.

They got back to her place, because that's what was understood. Yeah, they were gonna do it.

She put on a movie. Mask with Cher. I know it sounds strange, but it put her in the mood. Anyway, Jean made himself right at home. He tinkered with her night vision goggles, glanced at her line drawings of Pip Pirrip, then plopped down on her futon, propping himself up with her only two pillows. She settled in next to him. It got a little chilly, but it might have been the movie. Regardless, Jean sunk his fists into his sweatshirt pockets. Sometime after Rocky Dennison put that pin on the map, but before he went off to that blind kids' camp, Jean's fist emerged from his Fred Perry, clutching a strand of dental floss. And yes, he began flossing, and yes, it was a deal breaker.

She couldn't even focus on Rocky anymore. Jean just kept flossing. Bits of partially digested food flew through the air. He was oblivious until the part where Laura Dern touches Rocky's face and he turned to look at Eva. He knew he wasn't getting any, but I don't think he realized it was because of the flossing.

But this is about how Eva died.

She kept getting colds all the time. She couldn't even go out to the bars. She was just tired. She turned into a shut-in. Sick all the time. Her party friends told her she needed psych meds. An old girlfriend brought over an eight-ball one night in hopes of cheering Eva up. They did the whole thing in no time flat and while Eva's girlfriend blathered on incessantly about nothing, Eva read a crappy issue of Rolling Stone backwards. Eva couldn't sleep until the next day, and when she finally did, she awoke with a nasty wet cough from the postnasal-dirty-cut-coke-drip.

A few days later, she surrendered to the green phlegm and fever dreams and went to a doctor. They ran tests and found she had Bronchitis and Hepatitis C. She was hospitalized. They started interferon for the HepC, but the bronchitis turned into pneumonia. Her friends brought her things like women's magazines professing "how to have an orgasm under two minutes" or "10 ways to tell if He's cheating". One girl brought nail polish. They never visited more than once. "She's all yellowy and only says negative stuff. She's such a downer," they'd say over a split Waldorf salad, pardoning themselves from future visits.

Yeah, she died eventually. Her dad was in Japan on business.

The girl that brought the nail polish told Eva that apparently Jean the flosser from the club had Hepatitis C, too. He had gotten it from screwing a speed freak on the rag who used dirty needles. "But I never fucked him!" Eva pleaded. She thought of the pinkish-white bits of matter that flew from his French face.

One can never underestimate the power of the microbe.  ¶ 3:29 AM