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Wimmins’ Supplement

    

 

 

short fiction

My friend Margaret tells me sheis in love.
Are youin love with him, Iask. Yes,she says. He
is the only man who has made her come without
actual tion,shetellsme. That’swonderful,
Isay. Somehow Idon’tbelieve her, about thelove

part, that is.

She is calling me from Victoria, Margaret, my friend
since thirteen. Victoria is where she works but she has not
always lived there. She is only in Victoria for six months ona
work assignment. She comes home to Vancouver most
weekends to her boyfriend who shestill hasanapartment with.

. Heis not the one she says she is in love with. That is Ken, who
works with her in Victoria. He is also on a six month work
assignment. He comes home most weekends to Vancouver to
see his girlfriend, although they do not live together. Ken and
Margaret have a lot in common.

Itis Friday and she is calling me because she will bein
town this weekend while her boyfriend is away. We have not
seen each other in over a month and she wants to get together
with me and have a few drinks. You can meet Ken, she says.

I look forward to it, partly because Margaret is my
best friend and I miss her but mainly because I am lonely. I’m
lonely for closeness, the kind I can have with someone who
knows me well, where nothing has to ..4.
be said only understood, the kind Ican ©
have with Margaret, like the kind I had
withEric. Ericis my boyfriend. Was Is.
I don’t know, anymore.

Since] moved outtwomonths |
ago he has taken to visiting me atall 9 @
hoursofthenight. Mostofthetimeshe |
isdrunk. He willcome tomy bedroom
window and climb in. Lately, these
visits seem to be the only timesI see,
Eric. We donot goouton the weekends
and seldom during the week. He is
aloof when I talk to him on the phone.
It seems he has decided somethin; a
without telling me. And I feel sad,
frustrated, used. — |

Butthenagain, itis those times,
when he comes to me in the night, that
I feel nothing has changed. When he crawls into bed beside me
and rests his head on my breast with hisarmsand legs wrapped
around me like a little boy squeezes his teddy bear. And I can
feel the need emanating from his cool skin and penetrating
mine.

 

We have decided to make dinner at Margaret’s and
think about where we're going later. After stopping atSafeway
we go to the liquor store. I buy myself a bottle of red wine and

t hems and haws between a six pack anda case of beer.
I've been drinkinga lot of beer lately, she tells meas she decides
on the case, and six just doesn’t seem like enough.

Greedy, I say, which is what we call each other when
we are being excessive. Greedy, she agrees and laughs her
laugh which is staccato and evil.

While we make dinner Margaret raves about Ken,
about the sweet things hedoesand says. Shetellsmehow much
funsheis having in Victoria with Kenand hisroommate getting
drunkand stoned and wild. Ienvy her. I think of myself sitting
home most nights depressed, confused and bored. Earlier, she
showed me a note Ken wrote her. I cannot remember the
content too well only that the word love occurred several times
initandI wonder why itisI don’tinvokesuchmushy sentiment
from men. It gives a girl power, things like that. But Margaret
knows the trick.

Butnow we get ontome. Howarethings withme, she
wants to know. Oh. Well, I say, we can’t all be happy.

We did agree, Eric and I, to spend more time away
from one another but he doesn’t make iteasy. Before Margaret
came to pick me up today, Eric came by to see me. It was one
of his short visits and I don’t know what the purpose of it was.
To aggravate me, I think, which is usually the purpose of his
phone calls.

What're you doing? The first thing he always asks.

Nothing, I'll say.

Why, he'll ask.

I don’t know.

Why don’t you know?

I don’t know, I guess because there’s nothing to do.

Why not?

And it goes on, this stupid ‘why’ business until I give
him an answer he'll accept. I wonder why it is we can’t have
normal conversations anymore.

Today when he comes heasks his usual questions but
atleast] haveananswer for him whichsavesmetheexasperation.
Ican see that he is glad I’m doing something but I can also see
that he is not entirely happy about it. He is suspicious about
what I get up to when I’m out with Margaret. Yah, you're
gonna fuck some guy, he says.

What?! No I’m not, I say. I have no desire to do
anything likethat. Buthe saysitall in this jokey manner and I’m
notsure whether he seriously believes it or not. Iask him what
he’s doing and he tells me ‘whoring.’ I’m going out whoring,

    
     

by

honey, he says and emphasizes certain words which makes
him sound like a little boy., While he says it he is doing what
I call the wiggly-thing. The wiggly-thing is when Eric puts his
armsaround my waist, pulls meclosetohimand rubs his pelvis
against me, shifting his weight from one foot to another like
some obscene dance. I think he does this to comfort me. Hi
honey-bunny, he says.

Hedoesnotmean whoring in the literal sense. I know
he means he’s the one who’s going out to flaunt his availability
and I am not comforted.

CALL IT WHAT YOU WANT

nicki gatzke

She lets us in, sees we are both smoking and rushes us
down her hallway, through theliving room where I see that her
and her husband have guests, and out onto the balcony.

So, Margaret and I stand out on the balcony. We still
haveourdrinks withusand westand thereand smokeand look
into the living room. I realize that they are all people we know,
a from a couple years back. They were having
coffee, playing Pictionary, having a quiet evening and now we

 

 

Hi honey-bunny, he says again. He is still | -
holding me, waiting for me to say ‘hi’ back. Hi,I say
morosely, into his chest.

Ken looks like Bam-Bam from the Flintstones.
He has arrived at Margaret’s apartment and we are
sitting around thecoffee table doing lines of coke. Itisnot

something that does much for me but I have decided to
be as debauched as possible tonight. I do not want to
think about why I am depressed.

Besides the coke Ken has brought some]
mushrooms for Margaret that he picked that day, still
covered in dirt and blades of grass. We'll save these for
some other time, Margaret says and she puts the bag
away in her purse.

seuats oe Ken does not say much and
doesn’t stay very long. I think he
knows I know, a stranger, the
sordid details of his affairs. He
keeps flickering me these looks
while he interacts with Margaret,
as if he wants something from
‘Weme, a smile,apatonthe arm. He

F¥ wants us to meet him and some
- friends later on ata pub nearby.

 

 

YOU'LL NEVER GET AN AMA-

LEFT ME-

 

 

 

~ Marie’s coming, he tells

Margaret. That's his girlfriend. Bye,
see you later, he says.
Bye, we say.
Doesn’t that bother you? I ask
m Margaret after Ken has gone.

No, Ilike her, she says. She’s a nice
irl.
a : Ve Don’t you feel badabout this whole
thing, I want to know.
No, she says. I’m not doing anything to her. He’s the
one that’s doing it.
Well, I say, if I were her Id still want to slap you.
If I were her, Margaret says, I would too.

Weareat thepub but Kenand his friends are not here
yet. Thecocaine made us feel enclosed, restlessinherapartment
so we took a cab here. It seems we are waiting for something
but it’s not happening fast enough for us.

We finish our drinks and order two double rye and
Cokes in tall glasses. We each takea few sips of our drinks, then
Thold the glasses in my hands and putmy handsin the pockets
of my trenchcoat and we walk out of the bar. Itis silly, juvenile
what we are doing, but I don’t care.

We have decided to visit our friend Jackie wholives a
couple of blocks away from the pub we are at. We walka little
unsteadily down the street, our drinks in our hands. The air is
chilly and damp and has a wet earthy smell. It makes me feel
very young, rowdy, reckless. I have the strongest urge to do
something bad, disapproving.

Let’s see those mushrooms, I say to Margaret.

She takes them out of her purse. See, she says.

Let’s eat a few, I say.

Okay, she says. They are slimy and horrible but we
wash them down with our drinks. Weare drunk, not thinking
and we eat them all without realizing it. How much do you
think was in that bag? I say.

I don’t know, she says.

Oh, I say.

We buzz Jackie’s apartment number. It’s us, we say.
She seems to know who usis, so she lets us in. I go for the door
marked ‘stairs’ but Margaretrushes ahead of meand opens the
door beside it which is someone’s apartment. I do no grab her

areall staring at each other through the glass of the sliding door.
I see, and Margaret has seen that one of the guests is an ex-
boyfriend of hers. His name is Stu and we heard a while ago
thathe was getting married, butheseems to bethere by himself.

Back inside we chat, but we have disrupted their
gathering and conversation is awkward. I think Margaret and
Tare too boisterous, laughing too loud and too hard, and’ two
couples fet up and take their leave. I can hear aret on the
couch talking to Stu, asking him about his marital status. She’s
in Europe, he says. And he’s not married. Yet. Margaret is
persuading him to come back to the pub with us and I can tell
by the way she’s touching his arm what will happen later. He
is one of the few boyfriends who broke up with her first. Yes,
I already know what will happen.

And Jackie is trying to catch up. Icansee her gulping
her wine. She’s had three glasses in the short time we've been
there and she wants tocome with us. So we all go back, Jackie
and her husband John, Stu, Margaret and me.

lam laying on Margaret's couch. I want to throw u
butI would rather lay here and suffer and hope the nausea wi
go away. I think Stu brought us back here, but I can’t be sure.
[seem toremember being in Stu’scar, but] alsorememberacab
ride and Jackie and someone who was not John.

But I know Stu is here now. I can see his jacket laying
on a chair and I can hear noises in the bedroom. Margaret,
mainly, is who I hear and it’s embarrassing. I think] should go
throw up and remind them how small the apartment is.

SoIdo. And] feel better but I know I’m in for more
later. I’m beginning to remember more and what sets me off is
my hand. My left hand which is sticky and smells like licorice
and I remember someone putting a flaming shooter in my hand
and me spilling it, watching sambuca drip off the base of my
thumband sweet blue flame spread along the back of my hand.
Me watching Margaret. Margaret sitting on Ken's lap, Ken’s
girlfriend watching Margaret sitting on Ken’s lap, Stu watching
Margaret sitting on Ken’s lap, Ken watching Margaret sitting
on Stu’s lap. Me picturing Eric’s face on Ken’s body and Stu’s
body and thinking wherever Eric is right now there is also a
Margaret. Me watching Jackie, too many gulped drinks in her,
flirting, John watching, John leaving.

But I cannot remember what I am doing, what I did.
I cannot remember my actions, just my observations. Was I

    

or say anything, she’s already barrelled her way a few feet into
the apartment, but I’m gone, running up the stairs, laughing at
her.

Jackie is waiting forusather door. Thisis her reaction
to us: Happy, because she hasn’t seen us ina while. Hi, she

chirps. Shocked, atourappearancel’m supposing. Ohmy god,

   

brazen? Brave? Did flirt outrageously? Did I flirtat all? Did
I even have fun? I must have. I have no idea and what I

‘remember depresses me. I can still hear Stuand Margaret. I feel

sick. I miss Eric. I want to go home.

-~continued on page 3