Excerpt from All Fours by Miranda July, plus links to reviews, author biography & more

Excerpt
All Fours

Originally I had planned to get to New York the normal way, fly there, but then Harris and I had gotten into an odd conversation with another couple at a party. Our friend Sonja said she loved to drive; she missed having the time to drive across the country. And Harris said, Well, that figures.

What do you mean? we all said. Harris just shrugged, took a sip of his drink. He doesn't talk much at parties. He hangs back, not needing anything from anyone, which of course draws people toward him. I've watched him move from room to room, running in slow motion from a crowd that is unconsciously chasing him.

'Why does that figure?' Sonja said, smiling. She wasn't going to let this go. And maybe because it was her, so charming with her Auckland accent and big breasts, Harris suddenly laid out a fully formed theory.

'Well, in life there are Parkers and there are Drivers,' he began. 'Drivers are able to maintain awareness and engagement even when life is boring. They don't need applause for every little thing – they can get joy from petting a dog or hanging out with their kid and that's enough. This kind of person can do cross country drives.' He took a sip of his drink. Dogs were a hot button topic for us. Harris and Sam wanted one; I was ambivalent about pets in general. Are we totally sure about the domestication of animals? Will we not look back on this as a kind of slavery? But how to get out of it now when the world is so populated with dogs and cats that can't fend for themselves? It's not humane to just release them. It would have to be a group decision: No more pets after this. This is the last round of them. But that was never going to happen, even if everyone agreed with me, and literally no one did. Being anti pet (pro animal!) was one of my least winning qualities.

'Parkers, on the other hand' – and he looked at me – 'need a discrete task that seems impossible, something that takes every bit of focus and for which they might receive applause. 'Bravo,' someone might say after they fit the car into an especially tight spot. 'Amazing.' The rest of the time they're bored and fundamentally kind of ...' He looked at the ceiling, trying to think of the right word. 'Disappointed. A Parker can't drive across the country. But Parkers are good in emergencies,' he added. 'They like to save the day.'

'I'm definitely a Parker,' said Sonja's husband. 'I love to save the day.'

'Wait, parking is exciting?' said Sonja. 'That seems counterintuitive. Wouldn't driving –'

'Think about it, hon, you have to get the angle just right –'

'Okay, but are Drivers boring? I don't want to be the boring, dependable kind of person.'

'No, not at all,' said Harris. 'Drivers can have a good time more easily. That's not boring.'

'I want to be a Parker,' Sonja said, pouting. 'Too late,' Harris said. 'You can't switch.'

At this point I peeled away from the conversation. Message received. Harris and Sonja were grounded, easy going, people who liked to pet dogs and have sex whenever. And I was a Parker. What he called disappointed was really just depressed. I'd been a little blue recently, not a lot of fun around the house. Not like Sonja. I watched the two of them chatting – his barrel chest and graying black curls somehow looked boyish and his level of animation was totally unfamiliar to me, I guess she brought that out in him. It wasn't jealousy exactly; being a third wheel is my native state. Sometimes Harris will seem to have rapport with a waitress or a cashier and I immediately cede to them as a couple – I internally step aside and give my place to the other woman, just for a few seconds, until the transaction is over.

There was a small group of people dancing in the living room. I moved discreetly at first, getting my bearings, then the beat took hold and I let my vision blur. I fucked the air. All my limbs were in motion, making shapes that felt brand new. My skirt was tight, my top was sheer, my heels were high. The people around me were nodding and smiling; I couldn't tell if they were embarrassed for me or actually impressed. The host's father looked me up and down and winked – he was in his eighties. Was that how old a person had to be to think I was hot these days? I moved deeper into the crowd, shut my eyes, and slid side to side, shoulder first, like I was protecting stolen loot. Now I added a fist like a brawler, punching. I made figure eights with my ass at what felt like an incredible speed while holding my hands straight up in the air like I'd just made a goal. When I eventually opened my eyes I saw Harris across the room, watching. I could tell from his face that he thought I was being 'unnecessarily provocative'. Or maybe I was projecting my parents onto him – that's more something my mom would say – but he's always leaned a bit traditional. On our second date I began revealing my peep show past the same way I always did, like a verbal striptease, until I noticed his face kind of shutting down. At which point I immediately began reversing the story, narratively putting my clothes back on, as it were, and minimizing the whole thing – a youthful misstep! Ancient history!

Excerpted from All Fours by Miranda July. Copyright © 2024 by Miranda July. Excerpted by permission of Riverhead Books. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.