Page 49 of Return Billionaire to Sender

Today’s program features the world’s most monotonous voiceover. The unseen filmmaker seems to have specific feelings about each washer and dryer; she goes through an excruciatingly tedious monologue about what happens when you set the far end dryer to air dry.

“Is this a joke?” I ask.

“Shhh,” she scolds. The movie rolls on. Still she ignores the food.

I pretend to keep watching as the unseen auteur launches into the fascinating mystery of the “dryer-lint bandit.” Apparently there’s a rule that you’re to clean the lint from the screen after you dry your clothes and one person wasn’t doing it. There was sleuthing involved, but the culprit was never caught. Maisey is back again with her own interpretation—that people simply forget.

“Maisey’s an optimist,” I say.

“Shhh,” she says. She’s looking back over at the cart. I pretend to focus intently on the screen, but I’m really looking at her reflection in the window. Warmth spreads across my chest as I watch her take one and set it on a plate. She picks it apart and eats it in her bird-like way. At one point, she closes her eyes in pleasure. It’s a rich pastry, and she’s enjoying the forbidden hell out of it, and I’m enjoying the hell out of her.

She glances over again once she’s done with the pastry. Will she have another? “Not hungry?” I ask.

“Oh…I don’t know,” she says.

“Not a fan?” I ask.

“Shhh,” she says.

On screen, people theorize endlessly on how to uncover the identity of the person who doesn’t clean a dryer lint screen. They’re laughing and joking; they really do seem to know each other well in this building, right down to the details of who uses what detergent. There are ideas on how to set traps for the offender, but they’re all good natured.

Is this how people in groups live? They collaborate on silly projects? They regale each other with endless details of their lives? They empathize about friends lost in wars decades ago? Growing up, I got a lot of my information about how groups and families operate from TV, and from being over at my neighbor Howie’s. Scant information. And then I was overseas at school.

Onscreen, the case of the lint screen bandit rages. They’re saying nice things to each other, now.

Something grinds in my gut.

I finish my plate and I wander over and load a bit more food onto my plate. “You do realize your presentation has devolved into people literally discussing dryer lint, do you not?”

She smiles.

“Dryer lint.” I take her plate, load it up with an assortment of pastries and cheeses, and set it back down in front of her.

“What are you doing?”

“It would be a shame to let it go to waste,” I say, settling back into my chair. “I’ve never seen a group so animated about dryer lint. They really need to get lives.”

She stops the presentation. “Quiz.”

I grin. “Please let it be about mail delivery.”

“It’s about dryer lint. Why do you think this group is so interested in the whole dryer lint situation?”

I groan.

“You need to take my quizzes seriously,” she says.

“Fine, I’ll take your quiz seriously.” Casually, I cross my legs. “Most of these people are theater people. Emoting dramatically is what theater people do. Especially Antonio and Mia. Those two are super emoters.”

“Can you think of any other reason?” she asks.

“Are you telling me my answer was wrong?”

“It’s not the answer I was looking for.”

“But it’s the right answer,” I say. “Have you been watching this footage? Have you seen how they all mug for the camera? The pink-haired one.”

She’s grinning, building a cheese and cracker sandwich. “Can you think of any other possibilities?”

---