Hamburger hates herself with as much force as her hundred and sixty pounds will allow. She squeezes every side of her body and holds her breath, letting carbon dioxide pool at the top front of her forehead til it prickles.
Dirk watches her. Normally when Hamburger has these episodes, he merely observes them, doesn’t say much, prays they pass. He does not understand Hamburger’s rage. He can only understand these outbursts as the shadows of her Need, a Need whose entirety he dares not envision. Dirk kind of admires Hamburger for holding all this emotion, and so deeply. But tonight, Hamburger has fucked up more than normal, and Dirk has had it.
To Hamburger’s credit, she never hid the Need from Dirk: “I need to be loved,” she said, after a day trip to Atlantic City. She had picked a fight because he evidently had not shown her the amount of required affection on the boardwalk, in front of the Miss Universe statue, by the handful of cold mini-golfers, in the half-empty Crown’s fried chicken.
“You didn’t even hold my hand!”
“I didn’t know you wanted me to!”
Hamburger looked at him like he was very very stupid. “Of course I wanted you to,” she hissed. “Everyone wants that.”
But Dirk was not so sure. If someone did or did not try to hold his hand, he wouldn’t necessarily notice. He would certainly not make note of it, like Hamburger has.
“Do you think you could love me?” she asked. “Like, be in love with me,” she specified. In that moment, in his living room with her knees up to her chest, she looked young and vulnerable, or at least like an actress trying to seem young and vulnerable.
“I’m not sure,” he offered. “But I’d like to try.”
Now Hamburger and Dirk say I love you every day, and the Need remains. It’s a plus-one at dinner, the movies, watches them fuck, generally disturbs the peace. To Hamburger, the Need’s persistence is evidence that Dirk is lying about loving her, because how could it still be there if the Need had been met? Hamburger is sure Dirk is not being honest with her. She believes he has a secret Need, one that he won’t admit to no matter how hard she prods. And if he won’t admit it, it must be really big, bigger than hers, even. And this drives Hamburger crazy.
What does Hamburger want? Sometimes she thinks it’s a confession.
“Alright Hamburger!” She tries to imagine Dirk screaming, something she’s never heard. "I don’t love you. I think you’re a fucking slob.”
But Dirk doesn’t scream. That’s not something he does.
So this particular night, the couple goes to a party. The host is Rocket, a friend of a friend. It is warm and buggy and Rocket and their housemates have stoked a fire in their backyard. A game of Never Have I Ever is underway.
“Never have I ever… pulled an all-nighter.”
A few people drink, including Dirk. “You’re missing out!” he cries.
Hamburger watches Dirk closely from the camp chair next to him. He’s smiling, having fun. She had suggested they maybe not go tonight, maybe stay in, but Dirk had encouraged her to rally. She is always the one who has to rally.
Hamburger finishes her beer and cracks another.
“Never have I ever… sold a nude.”
“Never have I ever… left the country.”
It’s Dirk’s turn now. He raises his beer. “Never have I ever… pissed on someone. Or been pissed on!”
The circle groan-laughs. A few people gulp down beer. Rocket chugs theirs. Hamburger stares at Dirk, who’s smiling, proud of himself.
“You should try it, Dirk!” Rocket cries.
Hamburger stares at Rocket, who is compact, full of energy, silent but sly. Rocket is the ringleader of the group, the unspoken axis upon which the party is spinning. Rocket probably doesn’t have a Need, or if they do, it’s been satiated, elaborately and debaucherously.
“I want to, look, it’s on my list!” Dirk scribbles in an imaginary notebook.
“I love golden showers,” Rocket is wistful.
I bet they do, says the Need to Hamburger.
“Let’s make it happen!” says Dirk merrily.
The party laughs. It's Hamburger’s turn to go.
“Skip,” she says.
The circle boos playfully, but Hamburger keeps her eyes planted on the fire and remains silent until the person next to her shifts in their chair and goes, “Uh, okay, never have I ever… eaten pork.”
Hamburger leans into Dirk. “I wanna go home,” she stage-whispers.
Dirk’s eyes dart around the circle. He points his finger to his wrist, like, right now?
Hamburger nods, like, yes.
“A few more minutes,” whispers Dirk. “I’m having a good time!”
“I can see that,” Hamburger says.
Dirk avoids her gaze, tries to engage with the game. Hamburger knows he doesn’t want other people to hear their conversation.
Let them hear, the Need roars.
Hamburger and the Need excuse themselves to the bathroom, grabbing two more beers on the way. They pop one beer, chug it, stare at themselves in the yellowing bathroom mirror. This is a favorite activity of theirs: mirror–staring. They drain the second beer and clomp into the living room, where some pitiful light is casting purple digital disco patterns on corners stacked with Settlers of Catan and multiple copies of The Savage Detectives. Hamburger and the Need grab Dirk and Hamburger’s belongings from where they’re draped over a piano bench. They clomp back out to the campfire.
“Here’s your stuff,” says Hamburger and the Need, tossing Dirk’s messenger bag at him roughly.
Dirk’s mouth hangs open. Hamburger and the Need turn and leave the house before they can see Rocket and company’s reaction to their tantrum.
Back at the party, everyone is too classy to ask Dirk what the fuck that was. He stays through Kings Cup and karaoke. Staying at the party knowing Hamburger is waiting for him, furious, reminds Dirk of being outside of school during a fire drill. He knew that the reprieve was momentary. But for a moment, he stood in the real world, among real people, people unconcerned with pop quizzes and late assignments, and it was exhilarating.
But when Dirk’s friends suggest they keep the party going at a second location, he declines.
Back at home, Hamburger is curled in a child’s pose, trying and failing to breathe. When she hears the key turn in the lock she tries to arrange herself into something more appealing.
Dirk walks into the bedroom, stands at the foot of the bed, hands on his hips. His usual bemused patience is gone. His face is clouded with something.
“I’m sorry.” Hamburger says in a small voice.
“No, but for real.” Dirk looks her in the eyes. “What the fuck was that?”
Hamburger waits the Need to feed her the next line, but the Need has decided to take five.
“I need to know, Hamburger. I need to know what I did to deserve that..”
What can she say?
Here’s what she cannot say: I saw your Need and it made me sick. You Needed those people, and you did not Need me. Just as I suspected.
“I’m sorry,” she tries again. “I wish I didn’t do it.”
“You embarrassed me, man. That was really out of pocket.”
“I know.”
“What did I do to make you do that?”
“I don’t know.” The heat is subsiding and has been replaced, as it so often is, by tears of desperation. Because Hamburger has no clue what he did, any more than Dirk does.
“What do you want?”
“I don’t know.” She is sobbing now, she can’t say why, but she knows where they come from, same place as always. The sobbing softens Dirk’s expression. He sits down on the bed, as far from her as possible. He puts his head in his hands and is silent for one, five, ten seconds.
“You scare me,” he says.
“Why would you want to be with someone who scares you?” This is the Need talking.
Now Dirk cannot answer. “I thought it would be worth it.”
Hamburger feels something inside her lurch.
She starts crying harder. She cries for she doesn’t know how long. Dirk does not watch her, and for once Hamburger doesn’t want him to. She cries jagged, heaving sobs until they stop and are replaced by deep breaths.
“It scares me too,” says Hamburger.
They look at each other: him in his party clothes, confused and upset, her in her nightgown, breathing deeply, face soaked in tears.
Dirk stands up and leaves the bedroom. He returns with two glasses of water. He hands one to Hamburger. She drinks from it, deeply. She gets under her covers. Dirk takes his pants and shirt off and crawls in next to her.
“I really am sorry,” she whispers.
“I know,” he says, and turns off the lights.
Maybe the Need never goes away. Maybe it lays in wait. But tonight Dirk needs to sleep. Tonight, Hamburger’s body rises and falls next to him, warm and slack jawed. Her eyes are moving; she is dreaming. The tension she usually holds in her forehead, her mouth, her watchful eyes, has been released, and in its release she is beautiful. Her beauty makes Dirk root for her. He knows it shouldn’t, but it does.