The show is over now. I snap off the TV. Curtains he says. Curtains. The kid was dragged away for asking about... predators. Why predators? What was he trying to tell me? I know I know him from somewhere. But where. I don’t know. It doesn’t matter. It’ll come to me. Little cars. For turtles. What does that mean. How is that supposed to be helpful? I think. I think hard.

I return to my junk drawer for some fixin’s. That curtain hasn’t moved. It never did move. Curtains don’t move on their own. But just in case... just in case... I take out a spool of fishing line and a few small screws that came with the apartment that I sucked up with the vacuum. The kind with a little white paint on the ends of them. I rummage around in the drawer, pulled all the way out now. I grab a screwdriver from the back and that’s all I need. I don’t have a car for turtles, but I have these things. Some screws. Some fishing line. And a screwdriver. Let’s get to it.

I ease the stool over the the middle of the room and stretch up tot the ceiling. I have to bang on the back of the screw to get it into the drywall, but it goes in enough so I can get it screwed in without it falling back onto my face.

I look over at the curtain. Still good over there.

I shimmy the stool over a little closer to the curtains. “Better move this over here!” I say loudly “It was in a bad spot before and it should be here now!” I listen. Nothing. Good. I stand up on the stool and get another screw into the ceiling. A little drywall drifts down onto my face and into my left eye, but that’s what happens with drywall sometimes. Sometimes it gets you right in the eye.

Now for the last one. I ease the stool even closer to the curtains. “Nap! Looks like I was wrong! This is definitely the spot where this stool should temporarily be!” I’m crafty. Nothing is going to sneak up on me. Nothing is going to give me the curtains. I get the last one in. I go about the whole process again, except now... you’ll never guess. I string the line right on those screws and dangle the end right in front of the curtain. The unexpected. That’s how you stay alive in here. Unexpected things being done to the ‘ol curtain.

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I race back to the junk drawer and grab up the tape. I forgot the tape. I bring it to the curtain and tear off a piece from the roll and make a big show about there being a rip in the curtain. “Oh no!” I say “This poor curtain! It’s got all ripped up right here in the corner. Better fix it right up. Better get ‘er all fixed up!” I reach behind me and grab the end of the dangling fishing line and a fix the tape to it. “Here you go. All better now.” I attach the tape to the corner of one of the curtains, but what the curtain didn’t see is that THE FISHING LINE IS ATTACHED TO THE TAPE NOW TOO. Easy. Trickery is easy.

I scurry back to the kitchen and hide behind the island counter so the curtains doesn’t have a direct line of sight on me. I take deep cleansing breaths, like they do on TV during the early morning yoga hour. I have the other end of the fishing line in my hand and I’m working my way up to it. Don’t rush me.

I peek around the island *peek* then back behind the island. Good. Tape is still there attached to the fishing line. When should I pull it? Should I pull it now? I’ll pull it now. Right after I do something real quick. I take another peek, still good, then I bolt for the bathroom.

I stand over the sink, looking at myself in the hinged mirror. I look handsome. I should be a model. I turn the faucet on, cold and splash around in the sink for a while, then gather up some water and apply it to my hair gently. I comb it back with my fingers and the ends are dripping onto my shoulders but my hair is slicked back real nice now, good enough for a picture.

I look at myself dead in the eye in the mirror. You fukkin’ got this. Get out there and get behind the island and peek again, then pull the string like a looney tunes show. Drop the anvil on the coyotes head. I give myself a nod, then tear out of there and dive behind the kitchen island. All going as planned. I slick back my hair again. Looking good. Getting ready. I grab the end of the fishing line again, hands sweaty.

I yank it. I hear a *sshhhheerrrowwwoop* coming from the line across the screws and it get lighter in here. I opened it. Without it even knowing what was coming. I shake my head. “Jesus. What an idiot. No wonder why they made you into a curtain. Can’t do anything besides block light from getting int places. Everything does that.”

I’m confident now. That was easy.

I stroll like an iron man to the window. I can gaze out whenever I want. This is my place. Fuck you, curtain.

I shove the curtains both aside now since they’re not a threat any more and have been outsmarted by yours truly. With a nice head of slicked back hair.