Vacuum in the Dark Quotes

“Strange, she thought, how affected you are by malice when you're a kid, how a mean work or look can unravel you, how devastating cruelty feels when you're too young to protect yourself. But eventually, after all those defense mechanisms are firmly in place, it's the so-called positive shit - mercy, not malice - that brings you to tears.”
― Jen Beagin, Vacuum in the Dark

“Strange, she thought, how affected you are by malice when you’re a kid, how a mean word or look can unravel you, how devastating cruelty feels when you’re too young to protect yourself. But eventually, after all those defense mechanisms are firmly in place, it’s the so-called positive shit—mercy, not malice—that brings you to tears.”
― Jen Beagin, Vacuum in the Dark

“It’ll take you two days to get home. You should stop in Flagstaff and spend the night, but. Be careful—I have a friend whose sister was picked up hitchhiking in New Mexico and when they found her body, she’d been raped, so.” “So . . . don’t rape any hitchhikers?” Mona said. He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “It’s cute when you try and act tough.” “It’s not an act,” Mona said. “I’m actually made of Teflon.” Except, as soon as she said “Teflon,” she felt the corners of her mouth pulling down. Her eyes filled up quickly and then the tears started rolling, two big fat ones. She turned away and covered her face in her hand. “Hey,” he said, and touched her shoulder. “You’re my only kid, okay? I know we’re not blood, and you’ve always been weird, and we’re nothing alike. But. So. What the hell. I accept that now.” He pulled a bandana out of his pocket. “Here.” Strange, she thought, how affected you are by malice when you’re a kid, how a mean word or look can unravel you, how devastating cruelty feels when you’re too young to protect yourself. But eventually, after all those defense mechanisms are firmly in place, it’s the so-called positive shit—mercy, not malice—that brings you to tears.”
― Jen Beagin, Vacuum in the Dark

“You all right, Mom? Want me to get the nurse?” “You were born with teeth, you know,” Clare said. “Nursing you was extremely painful. My nipples bled.” Mona yawned. “You also secreted breast milk when you were an infant,” Clare said. This was new. “What?” “The doctor called it neonatal milk,” Clare said. “But the nurses called it Witches’ Milk.” “I had milk coming out of my baby nipples?” Mona asked. Clare smiled wistfully. “Yes.” “Did I breastfeed anyone?” Mona asked. “Only the dog,” Clare said. Mona laughed. “We didn’t have a dog yet.” “The neighbor’s dog,” Clare said.”
― Jen Beagin, Vacuum in the Dark

“Did he have phantom limb syndrome, by any chance?” Mona asked. “Is that when you feel the arm that isn’t there?” “Yeah, but it’s usually really painful. The phantom limb feels shorter than the real one and like it’s in a painful position—bent backward, or something. The pain can go on for years and years, long after the limb is gone.” “Well, if your father had it, he probably didn’t even know,” Clare said. “He snorted a lot of cocaine.” “You know, I felt like I had a phantom limb in high school,” Mona mused. Clare tilted her head slightly. “But you never lost a limb, honey.” You, Mona thought. You were my limb.”
― Jen Beagin, Vacuum in the Dark

“For a culture obsessed with being thin, there’s a startling number of donut shops in Los Angeles,” Terry pointed out suddenly. “Tell me about it, Terry,” Mona said. “I’ve counted eleven since El Segundo. It’s like, who the fuck’s eating all these donuts?”
― Jen Beagin, Vacuum in the Dark

“I’ve been thinking about you lately,” Mona said, closing the lid of her laptop. “Sort of.” “How do you sort of think about someone?” asked Clare. “I didn’t recognize your voice at first,” Mona said. “You sound . . . different.” “I found the Lord,” said Clare calmly. Fuck, Mona thought, another goner. It was a goddamn epidemic.”
― Jen Beagin, Vacuum in the Dark

“While her parents were busy ruining their marriage, she’d spent three or four days a week with her paternal grandfather, Woody Boyle, a mild-mannered man, an avid reader and functional alcoholic. But he’d taught her all of life’s essentials: how to spit like a man, take a good photograph, drive stick, make a stiff drink, swim butterfly, French-braid, and, perhaps most importantly, how to play dumb.”
― Jen Beagin, Vacuum in the Dark

“An older married couple rented the other half. Nigel was a British man in his forties; his wife, Shiori, was Japanese and half his age. They made music with homemade instruments and dressed in matching pajamas. They’d moved to Taos from Indonesia where they’d spent twelve years meditating and gazing into each other’s eyes, and had maintained a willful and near-total ignorance of popular culture. They had no idea who Philip Seymour Hoffman was and didn’t care, and had never read a book published after 1950. In some ways, they reminded her of John and Yoko, but, as they were both terrible musicians, she called them Yoko and Yoko.”
― Jen Beagin, Vacuum in the Dark

“They had their most intimate conversations on the motel line. The problem was, while he was sharing, expressing, confessing, and sometimes crying, she couldn’t stop yawning. Once she let one loose, they kept coming, one after the next after the next, like waves crashing. They often came in sets of three. Then, a little break. Then another set arrived. They seemed to be generated by something deep inside her, deeper than boredom, some force she didn’t understand. Perhaps if she yawned openly and loudly, she wouldn’t have this problem. Instead, she yawned silently, out of politeness.”
― Jen Beagin, Vacuum in the Dark

“When she heard Clare roll off the waterbed, she tiptoed into the bathroom and hid in the tub. She sat hugging her knees to her chest, something she’d seen women do in the movies when they were upset, usually after they’d been raped or cheated on.”
― Jen Beagin, Vacuum in the Dark

“Nigel licked his lips. “Have you read Homer yet?” “You gotta stop asking me that,” Mona said. He’d given her a beautiful edition of The Odyssey two years ago. She’d read a few pages here and there but could never fully commit.”
― Jen Beagin, Vacuum in the Dark

“do you know?” It made Lena’s question seem utterly selfless and without need, a question that didn’t require an answer. Wasn’t that what true love was, according to Stevie Wonder? It asked for nothing. Acceptance was the way you paid.”
― Jen Beagin, Vacuum in the Dark