Michael, Antoinette, and Me

 

 

Part 22

 

“Good morning, Jane,” I almost sang, looking around the office.

“Toby. Good morning. Eh.” She teetered on her crutches behind the desk. “I have no idea what to say.”

“It’s a beautiful day. I just need to glance your map.”

“Your people –”

“Yeah, I know. They’re good at what they do.”

“That Mr. Falcon, eh.”

I turned from the map on the wall. “Yes, Mr. Falcon.”

“I didn’t understand all that he said.”

“I’ll fill you in when the time comes. We have a lot of balls in the air right now, not sure how things are going to drop. Twenty-two miles.”

“What is?”

“Oh, my bike ride this morning.”

“I’ll call a car in.”

“I need this ride. Forty-four miles round. I really do need to get away.”

“Too many balls in the air?”

“Yeah.”

“Thank you.”

“Oh, we’re just getting started.”

“Mr. Falcon said.” She tapped a log. “He’s booked our limo for seven days straight, two to six runs each day.”

“Mr. Falcon knows people.”

“I asked Ralph to get a haircut. Hank can’t handle it all.”

“Ralph’s good with people, can read a map.” I shrugged. “The hair, well, I do understand the importance of a company image.”

She let out a long sigh. “Even with the revenue –”

“Relax. Take it day by day.”

“Balls in the air.”

“A lot of balls in the air.”

“I’d ask you why, but I’m sure you’d give me that shrug.

I resisted the shrug. “Now’s not the time.” I pushed the door half open, then turned again.

“Bartholomew Peters. How much?”

She bit her lip. “That bill I never miss.”

 

Twenty-two miles and change later, I rolled up on a twelve-bedroom house, at least, four-car garage, sweeping property in a sprawling development. The Bat’s house was not the largest, by far from the smallest.

I’d gotten a bundle of one-dollar bills from the bank, crisp, new, a pain in the ass to count. Bat or Mr. Peters, I’d written on the envelope. Your four-year-old daughter, Lisa, is beautiful. I wedged the envelope in the storm door as I used to with my collection envelopes when I delivered newspapers a couple of lifetimes before.

 

Richard Katz, a stocky man in his late forties, sharp brown eyes like rich milk chocolate, square face met me halfway down the expansive entrance. “Good to see you, Miss Blanc,” he greeted, placing a yellow plastic hardhat on my head.

“Mr. Katz,” I greeted back. “No more digging?”

“I guess you were hoping to –”

“Not really, well, OK. I was in the neighborhood, thought I’d drop by, see how things are going.”

He swept his arm to the east. “We’re going to have a walkway along the water, parking lot.”

“Make it look like a dock?”

“Oh, you’ve seen the drawings.”

“I have not.”

“Well, let’s.”

 

With the door open, in the cramped trailer, Katz flipped through the blueprints on the large table.

“Oh, wait.” I put my palm to the front elevation. “Is that a widow’s walk?”

“We’re calling it a crow’s nest.”

“Oh, far less creepy.”

He paged the blueprints. “Here it is. Jessica plans an intimate space, eight tables along the exterior.”

“Perfect to reserve for a date.”

“I’ve reserved the first Friday night. We have sketches, if you want to see.”

“I’m good. The front loader.”

He rolled his eyes. “Yes, the front loader.”

“Is that something you own? Can I rent it?”

“We own it, or the company does. What did you have in mind?”

“Is that something I can take a house down with?”

“Well, sure. However, depending on logistics, there are better machines.”

“I kind of had in mind doing it myself. I loved the feel of the front loader.”

“Do you own this this house, at least have permission to demolish it?”

“The thought hadn’t crossed my mind until a few minutes ago.”

“I’ll tell you what. When – if – the time comes, hire me. I’ll supervise. There’s more to knocking down a house than just pushing it over.”

I nodded, flipping through the elevations. “Are we on schedule?”

“We are, Miss Blanc. I’d go as far as saying maybe a little ahead of schedule.”

“Are we paying protection?”

“Eh.”

“I assumed as much.”

“I thought you’d know.”

“I’m not in every meeting. I have good people, like you, to do the actual work.”

“It’s the way things are done.”

 

On the guided tour to follow, I was taken up with the skeleton of what was to become the grand ballroom, stepping into six pirouettes in a circle, stumbling only once. “Yes. I like it.”

Random halfhearted mocking applause from workers echoed from around the spacious room. Rare for me, unaware of the people scattered around. I blushed, offering a curtsy in three directions.

“You have to watch your step.”

I bent at the waist, then stood, presenting the eight-inch metal piece I tripped on. “Shawn tells me I have to keep my chin up. What is this?”

“When this is a dance floor, keep your chin up, now watch your feet. That’s called rebar. Reinforcing bar.”

“It’s heavier than it looks.”

“That’s a cut piece. We put them in the concrete forms –”

“To make the concrete stronger. I’m pretty smart – for a girl.”

 

I’d really not planned to visit the worksite, enjoying the half assed sightseeing too much. Daydreaming, fatigued, I worked the peddles into the late afternoon, calculating I was close to sixty miles, almost back to the apartment. I noticed the car accelerating much too late, the car running the stop sign, taking my bicycle with it, me rolling off the windshield, belly flopping to the street.

I pushed to my knees, determined nothing was broken and said aloud, “I did not see that coming. Literally.” I’d become much too comfortable in the environment.

“Are you OK?” called faceless from a car.

I struggled to my feet, nodded, shaking my head. “Dandy. Thanks for asking.”

“I can take you to the hospital.”

Instinct had me stepping back, narrowed eyes, the driver a shadow. “I’m good.”

A horn sounding moved him along.

I found my bicycle three blocks away. It did not survive. I carried the carcass home anyway, feeding the trash container in the parking lot.

 

“Hey, eh, Mike,” I greeted, the door closing behind me.

“Toby. Sorry. I’m meeting Shawn. She –”

“Wants you to dance wearing your suit. I understand.”

“There’s a couple messages.”

“I need a long, hot shower, if you’re done with the facilities.”

He stood from behind the table. “I’m on my way out.”

 

“Detective Serling,” I said into the telephone, working a towel on my head.

“Miss Blanc,” he answered.

“Definitely. Did I tell you definitely?”

“To what?”

“The Woman of Mystery caper.”

“I inferred as much. I can’t tell you how much –”

“Someone tried to kill me today.”

“Are you OK?”

“A little shaken, I guess. Could have been worse.”

“You could be dead. That’s worse.”

“Matter of opinion. Hit and run.”

“Because I do what I do, I have to ask.”

“Oh, it was no accident.”

“Description.”

“Gray Rambler. Like a box on wheels. Want the license plate number?”

“I do. Police report?”

“No. If things happen to shake out like I suspect, I don’t want the police looking hard at me if someone happens to come up dead.”

“Once I run this down – no joke intended –”

“If the owner of the car isn’t one of the people on my list, have a conversation with him. Determine who he’s working for.”

“Should be easy. You, that is to say Antoinette Blanc, hasn’t been alive long enough to piss off a lot of people. Jacob Bancroft –”

“I looked him in the eye. He’ll steal the life savings from a cripple, not thinking anything of it. He doesn’t have what it takes to murder or even pay to murder.”

“Sorry. New topic. Jacob Bancroft. You said he’s diddling the help?”

“I did.”

“This is my bread and butter.”

“Can you keep the diddled out of it? I kind of like her in a lost puppy sort of way. Since he has a dick, he’ll get a mild public reprimand, maybe his church will give him you’ve been a bad boy, double his tithe for the next month, while he yuks it up with brandy and cigars in the backroom, boasting tall tales of his conquests.”

“She’ll get ostracized, maybe lose her job. Is someone breaking your door down?”

“Come,” I called out. “Door’s open.”

He did.

“I have to run. Mr. Bartholomew Peters has come to visit.”

“Toby. You going to be OK?”

“Sure,” I said into the phone. “He may be a creep, but he’s not stupid.” I replaced the receiver on the wall, turning.

“Bat or Mr. Peters, come in. Sit?” I indicated the table. “Coffee? I can make some tea?”

He appeared confused, looking around. “Eh, Blanc. Not a social call.” He eyed me up and down. “You should put some clothes on. I’ll wait.”

I shrugged, wrapped in my fluffy white towel with red and blue floral design as a toga. “You really need not stop by to thank me for the weekly payment.”

“That’s not –”

“Sarcasm, Mr. Peters. Sarcasm.”

“Eh. We need to get some things straight.”

“Dispel misconceptions.”

“Huh, yes.”

“Nip things in the bud.”

“Eh, right.”

“Settle things once and for all.”

“Sarcasm?”

“Yes.” I held his eyes.

“Listen carefully. You do not go to a man’s house. You do not fuck with children. That’s the way this works. It’s that simple. Come Friday, you pay me. End of story.”

“Well, Mr. Peters, let’s nip this fucking bud first. You, standing in my house for the second time, telling me I don’t go to a man’s house, which you mean not to fuck with where a person lives. This is about you having a dick and I don’t, isn’t it?”

I waved him off. “Bud number two: Don’t fuck with children?” I stepped toward him aggressively, keeping his eyes. “I’m fifteen fucking years old. You’ve assaulted me twice.”

He took a half step back.

I followed. “Your background check didn’t show my expunged court and medical records.” I narrowed my eyes. “Let’s do get some things straight, let’s dispel misconceptions, let’s do nip some buds, let’s do settle this once and for all.”

I rolled my eyes. “That’s such a silly expression.”

“Huh?”

“Once and for all. For all what? All time? For all to see?”

The man who towered over me took another half step back, lost for words, maybe scared.

“Lisa is a sweet child, though I think her too young to start school. Yet, I was ripping the wings off bugs, watching them die, torturing small animals in the neighborhood at that age. I hope that hair’s naturally curling. I’d think Marge curling that child’s hair child abuse.”

“If you so much as –” he stammered out.

“We’re going to do some business. I’m going to provide some insurance. Each Friday, you’re going to go to the Royal Taxi and Limousine Service, be pleasant to Jane, apologize for being an asshole, book a limo to New York City and return, flat rate determined by Jane.”

“Eh, what’s in New York?”

“I don’t care if you take the limo. Book and pay for it. It’s called money laundering, duh. Leave a ten-buck tip for the driver. Think of all this as an insurance payment. Insurance to prevent Lisa from getting kidnapped, pieces of her being returned to you in the mail every other day for a couple of weeks until I burn your nice house to ground with you and Marge in it.”

Back against the door, he found the knob, pulling.

“I don’t need a ma’am, yes ma’am. A simple nod you understand me will do.”

He nodded, half into the hall.

I crooked a smile. “Hemingway Associates can’t help you. They’ve learned a long time ago not to fuck with me.”

I closed the door to the echo of his hurried footsteps on the stairs.

What a rush.

The power I wielded across Mr. Bartholomew Peters’ life was intoxicating. In one sweeping indictment of humanity, I understood Uncle Gropey, why the four boys raped me, why brother Mark repeated ejaculated on my face, why Bill Locke needed me to strip for him, eventually injecting sperm in me, why Mike Borrows had to kidnap, abuse, and kill Jody Demarko, why my mother weaponized food, and why my father had to toss the Christmas tree on the lawn and had to stick his business in Tammy. I understood Lauren and the trap a superior put her in.

Jessica.

It was here I realized my Fantasy Girl nonsense put my hand tight on Jessica’s neck just as surely as Jessica grasped my neck when she got me off in the linen closet.

Intoxicated.

I wanted to crumble to the beige carpet, face in my palms, cry until I had nothing left to cry.

I had not become one of them. I was always one of them. I closed my eyes to the irony of saying Bill Locke had grown up to be just like his childhood abusers.

I understood sanctuary and my wraith, Antoinette. Sanctuary manifested me as pure as Mr. Blanc imagined his daughter to be.

In sanctuary, dancing naked in the rain, I was a better version of the real Antoinette.

Intoxicated.

I wanted to fuck myself. Maybe twice, three times. I knew once wouldn’t do. I rolled my eyes, thinking of the cucumber in the refrigerator. Over the years, I’d read accounts in the forum section of adult magazine with dispassionate interest. I didn’t know whether Pamala was joking or not.

“Cry on the floor hysterical or slide a cucumber up my butt.” I rolled my eyes, pulling the door open before he had a chance to knock. “Richard.”

“Eh, Toby. I was worried.”

“I knew The Bat would be visiting. I was concerned, that is, until I had you on the phone when he came a-knocking.”

“Ah. He knew someone knew he was here. Brilliant. How was your meeting?” He gave me narrowed eyes. “Do you always take meetings wrapped in a towel?”

“I just got out of the shower. He didn’t say, but an ego driven man like him was not pleased I had his address and details of his life. He took exception to me going out his house, mentioning his daughter. Seems there’s rules in the shakedown business of not bringing children into it or doing business in a person’s residence. Want to come in? I can put some coffee on?”

“Oh, that’s rich.”

“I do make good coffee, the secret is –”

“I meant the irony.”

“Turns out, he’s all bluster, I think maybe from people always being so easily intimidated by him. Break a windshield, flatten a tire, people roll over. When I was around twelve, I bloodied a bully pretty good on the school steps, backing him off.” Until he raped me. I didn’t fool myself. I knew The Bat was dangerous, and I knew I had to appear more dangerous.

“Do I want to know?”

I shrugged. “He’s going to be paying Jane weekly protection now.”

“I can’t imagine how you out intimated him, standing there naked or almost naked.”

“Since we’re going to be partners, I guess I should let you know what you’re hooking up with. I told him I’d kidnap, butcher his daughter, send him pieces every other day, then burn his house to the ground with him and his wife in it.”

“He bought that?”

“I wasn’t bluffing.”

Serling went a shade of white.

I pointed to my chin. “Some poker face, huh?”

“My God, Toby.”

“I’m leaning toward blackjack, though. All the games are rigged toward the house. Blackjack looks the easiest to beat.”

“That’s not the idea.”

“I know. Plans?”

“I have to get back.”

“I really need a distraction. Drop me up on Main.”

 

I watched my transparent reflection in the glass, me in a cream sleeveless sundress, flared at the waist, black three-inch heel sandals, no underwear, no makeup, light red suede bag over my right shoulder.

Beyond, Michael in his dark suit, Shawn in a white long sleeve button-down shirt, a perfect accent to her elegant arms, pink pleated skirt too short for polite company – the skirt she wore the day we met – her feet naked to the floor floated flawlessly around the room.

“Shawn is a good teacher,” whispered from the beside me.

“The way they interact, I might think they’re in love.”

“You might, yes,” Cassandra answered. “Michael, likely. Shawn is a wonderful performer. Four years old, always scolded for forgetting she has an audience. She learned, which makes her good at what she does.”

Watching Shawn was not the distraction I required.

“Dasey Longardner.”

“Yes, Toby. Dasey.”

“I was pretty hard on her. I didn’t mean to be.”

“She told me.”

“Was it a good rant?”

“She didn’t break anything. She’s not used to, eh –”

“Being contradicted? Having her authority challenged?”

“You are a willful child.”

“Willful children never fare well in fairy tales.”

“They do not.”

“I wanted to apologize –”

“For?”

“To Miss Longardner.”

“For?”

“I came into your house, took it to Miss Longardner pretty good. If we were on the street, it’d be different. Maybe it’s you I should apologize to.”

“We come from a different place, Dasey and me.”

“Different time.”

“We recognize things are changing, that maybe you are the future.”

“Are you talking witch or gay?”

She snickered. “Different. We came of age in a time when little tolerance was granted to anything different.”

“I think the universe is ruled by irony. Dasey isn’t very tolerant of things that are different. You were young when you met.”

“We were.”

“Where the world didn’t understand, you gave each other acceptance.”

“As you recall, I did that for you.”

“I do. You welcomed me in. I’d wondered why you’d choose a church, which seems the last place people like us are welcomed.”

“That’s where I felt needed.”

“Do you have such a program now?”

“I do. There are children without means, who I welcome into my regular classes at no cost to them. As you know, discipline, working as a group, acceptance can do wonders for a child.”

“I’d like names, addresses, family profile, if you have it.”

“Why, pray tell?”

“When I was a child, there was a Thanksgiving when my mother put a plate with a single piece of bread on it in front of me.”

Cassandra released a long sigh.

“A few years later, I bought twenty complete turkey dinners, donated to the church. I learned by accident one of the church elders took one of the dinners for her family.”

“Maybe, though a church elder, she was poor.”

“I’m so fucking tired of people looking for excuses for bad behavior.”

My attention on Shawn and Michael, I saw Cassandra nod a silent agreement.

“I’d do it again, Cassandra, drop a mess of dinners, even a mess of money on a church, if I knew even just one child would get more than just one piece of bread for dinner. As it is, I don’t know where the poor children are, else I’d drop the food on their doorstep.”

“You restore my tattered faith in humanity, give me hope for the future.”

I rolled my eyes, opening my suede bag, retrieving a fold of bills, peeling off a few. “Please accept this gift – for the children who have little or nothing, so they can at least have the gift you offer.”

“You are incredibly generous.”

 

The door clicked shut behind me. “May I have the next dance?” I glared at Michael as he turned toward me. “Don’t even think about it.”

“I wasn’t, Toby. What do you think?”

“I think you’ll be a hit at the dance.”

“I feel so naked.”

“With out the makeup and all. I understand. Now, get the fuck out of here.” I caught Shawn’s cobalt eyes. “Dance with me.”

“Here’s me, getting the fuck out,” Michael said, hurrying the door.

Shawn approached. “Are you OK?”

I offered open arms. “I’ll lead.”

“Been a long day, I smell.”

“I’m counting on that.”

“Are you flirting with me?”

My left hand took her right, palms together, fingers intertwined. She let out a sharp breath, my right hand nestling the small of her back, her left wrist resting on my shoulder.

“You’re hand’s too low.”

We fell in motion floating in a circling taking the spacious room. “I know.”

“So, how was your day?”

“Getting better. You?”

“You were right about Michael.”

Pulling closer, I watched her eyes. “Who?”

She giggled.

I was less distracted than ever. “I stopped up to talk to Cassandra.”

“Everything alright?”

“Yes.”

The dressing room door gave way to my shoulder, the click from the lock resounding, Shawn’s back soliciting a sharp bang from the lockers, my hands on her cheeks, my tongue buried in her mouth, my left thigh sunk between her legs.

Shawn gulped.

 

“Jody.” Shawn rolled her eyes from across my table.

“What? No!”

“No, not that. She has an older sister, Lisa. You may get to meet her at the funeral.”

“A cousin? No!”

“No! She had this friend. Raymond. It’s how I understand Rachel.”

Michelle emerged from her bedroom. “I feel much better now.”

“That better not be my sundress.”

“I figured if I’m not allowed to wear your clothes, I’ll buy clothes just like them.”

“That’s so cute,” Shawn said. “Maybe the four of us can dress up alike someday.”

“Maybe not.”

The song from dancing keys proceeded Pamala. “Hi, gang.” She came to me at the table, bending, kissing me long and deep. “How come you smell like Shawn?”

I shrugged, Shawn blushed.

“Oh, you didn’t!”

Shawn rolled her eyes toward Michelle. “Not in front of the kid.”

“Child,” I said. “Michelle is not a baby goat.”

“And, I’m not a child!”

“Barely not a child.”

“I’m older than you!”

“Don’t cloud the argument with facts.”

“If I had to confess something, I’d start with we were upright the whole time, never lost an article of clothing.”

Pamala looked down her nose at Shawn, eyes half closed. “Did any hand at any time enter underwear?”

“No,” Shawn answered.

With both fists, I pulled the hem of my dress up to my chin. “But I’m not wearing underwear.”

“Toby!”

“Nor did any finger enter or almost not enter me. I pushed Shawn to the floor, rolled in her like a farm dog.”

Pamala smirked. “My two best friends humping each others legs? I don’t have a problem with that.”

“You don’t?” Michelle asked.

“What I tell you?” I shrugged.

“Man, I got jealous when Levy flirted with other women.”

Standing behind me, Pamala put her right hand on my shoulder, her left hand on my cheek, two fingers working into my mouth. “That’s because you were afraid you could lose Levy. Our relationship with Shawn makes our relationship stronger.”

“I know where this hand has been,” I said around the fingers.

“I was thinking of you on the way over from work.”

“I’m always only a thought away.”

“I was talking to Shawn.” She took her fingers back, kissing me on the cheek. “I need to talk to you alone.”

“Unless it has to do with the cucumber in the refrigerator, Shawn and Michelle are OK.”

“Business.”

I shrugged.

“Concerns the cab stand.”

“Why oh why did I ever think my professional business communication with your mother would be confidential?”

“Oh my gosh, that’s right.”

“Right here. This here is why, the only reason, I keep secrets from anyone. Even you, Pamala. Your mother told you something in confidence that you’re about to tell me.”

“Eh.”

“It’s all good. Mom has concerns about my business dealings, thinking I’m either in over my head or maybe corrupt.”

“She’s worried about you.”

“She’s worried about you. That’s what she said. I’m sure there was a watch yourself in the lecture.”

“Are your business transactions illegal?”

“Some. But you knew that all along. Burying my face in your what used to be woolly mastodon is illegal. Dad’s shenanigans are illegal. You and your family have had no problem with those. You may stamp your foot if you like.”

“Woolly mammoth.” She mockingly stamped her foot. “It was specifically your dealings with the cab company.”

“That’s the only business dealing she has any details about, though she’s seen the business plan for the restaurant, she’s not yet aware you’re an owner, too. I asked her for a profile of the cab company. Your mother only has half the story.”

“The restaurant?” Shawn asked.

I waved her off.

“You’re buying out Jane? My god, that woman. Once in a while, I take breakfast over to her. Sometimes I get back to work and cry for an hour.”

“I’m not buying her out. It’s complicated.”

“Cry for an hour?” Pamala asked.

Michelle stepped up and said, “I’d guess that’s the half of the story your mother doesn’t know.”

“Half of half of it. I have a wedding in the morning, well, I have to meet Marcy at ten. I think I can tell a story, or we could wash each other’s hair.”

“Same thing you told Dad. Besides.” She glanced Shawn. “I figure you’re all washed out.”

“Firstly, saying that is like saying, Well, you have a roast beef sandwich, I guess you won’t be needing your fries and gravy. Secondly, what I told Dad? You mean when you hit the door you need to know we’re alright?”

“Exactly that.”

“When you hit the door, Pamala, forever and a day, we’re alright.”

“I still don’t have that in writing.”

“Want to see the rough draft?”

“No.”

“Then a story it is.

“Jane Wilkins was a snotty little cunt. When she was my age, an older man gained her trust over time, finally taking her to a secluded location where a gang of men raped her, beat her, and raped her again, dumping her in a field for dead, where she lay staring at the sky for two days before a group boys found her, raping what they thought was a dead body.

“An older sister of one of the boys caught wind of their shenanigans, calling the police.”

Michelle left for her bedroom, Pamala, now sitting to my right at the table, put her hands over her face, crying. Shawn, across from me, kept my eyes, her lower lip quivering. “That’s much more than Jane tells.”

“I have my own research.

“If a sharp intern at the city morgue didn’t catch that Jane wasn’t dead, this would be the end of the story. So, off to the hospital. Her family was fuckless, preaching of immortality, how she brought all this on herself, disowning her. I feel they were ducking the medical bills. Their motives don’t matter. Cliché assholes.

“An ambulance chaser by the name of Alexander Forde did some pretty fine work, hit hard in places, got her medical debt reduced and paid, getting a sizable settlement. The week she was to be released, he came to her with a business deal. A deal that would, he claimed, set her up with a good income for the rest of her life.

“He was a coy asshole, keeping his name out of the deal while still claiming to represent her. She trusted him. Forde, in concert with two other men, one of those men sticking his business in Lauren on the sly because he’s married, fucked Jane with a telephone pole, stripping her of all her money, leaving her with an over leveraged business on the edge of failure.”

“Over leveraged?”

“The value of the assets of the business don’t cover the debt owned,” Pamala choked out.

“She can barely make dailies, payroll, service the interest on the debt.”

“That bad?” Pamala asked.

“If the business closes, Jane will be put out on the street with the change in her pocket.”

“Your plan?” Shawn asked.

“To do what I must. Like I said: It’s complicated.”

“Toby,” Pamala said, still struggling with tears.

“Pam.”

“We’re good. We’re so fucking good.”

“You can’t tell any of this to your mother.”

“I think what I’ll do is tell her I heard the whole story, and we’re so fucking good. And, that the story would have her down on her knees, gnashing her teeth, crying bitter tears, swearing there can be no god in heaven that such things happen.”

“Why hold back?”

“Toby.”

“Pam.”

“I love you. Thanks for being you.”

“Toby?”

“Shawn?”

“I’m stunned. Not just by Jane’s story. She’d given me the Cliff Notes. You. Stunned. You scare the fuck out of me and I’m so loving it.”

I nodded.

“I so fucking get this – your age. Snotty little cunt. Look left instead of right, that could be you in the field, not dead but not alive, staring at the sky, raped by strangers who happened upon you.”

“Jody Demarko, Shawn.”

Shawn’s cobalt eyes tethered my light tanned leather eyes, a tear running down her right cheek, her face stone. “Fuck, Toby. I don’t want to hear the details. I need to hear the details.”

“Not now.”

Pamala cried into her hands again.

“If you’re going to kill people, let me know. I have a good shovel.”

“Buy them lunch, Shawn.”

“Huh?”

“We don’t say kill people. We say we’re going to buy them lunch.”

“Right there, Toby,” Pamala choked out. “She didn’t say, but that’s what Mom was talking about.”

“We good?”

“Oh, Toby, we’re so fucking good.”

I then knew where Pamala’s line not to cross was and that Shawn did not have the same line.

 

“Do you want to snuggle in the Lazy Boy, read to her?” came quietly from the darkness.

“No.”

“I thought I’d be OK.”

“I can’t explain it in a way you’d understand.”

“Did you fuck her here, in our bed, or out on the sofa?”

“At the dance studio. In the locker room. We didn’t really fuck.”

“Oh, you fucked. I feel better now anyway. You fucked her like Jessica fucked me. Hit and run, little more than masturbation with another person. Not so complicated.”

“I don’t particularly feel good about. I don’t particularly feel bad about it. After the visit from Bat –”

“That big guy? Here? Again?”

“Yeah. I felt – eh, unsettled, so instead of pacing, waiting for you, I thought I’d catch Cassandra, have that conversation, you know.”

“Did he hit you again? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“We had a conversation. Very professional. We have a new agreement. You don’t need to know the details. He’s going to be paying me each week instead of me paying him.”

“I can’t imagine –”

“I hope you never can.”

“Horrifying and terrifying. You’re right. I knew this all along. I wish I was in the room and at the same time I’m glad I wasn’t. It’s like they say about not wanting to see how the sausage is made. Did he cry?”

“Turned a couple shades of white, stammered a lot.”

Pamala giggled. “OK. I get it. You’re standing alone in our apartment, swinging your dick that’s harder than Chinese algebra.”

I laughed, maybe too loud. “I did consider putting the cucumber up my butt.”

“Don’t. There’s preparation. We can talk about it.”

“I know.”

“All the adult magazines?”

“Just most of them.”

“You’ve got this hard dick. You go up the studio to see Cassandra. Here’s Shawn what? Dancing?”

“Michael’s final lesson. Shawn’s wearing that pink skirt, bare feet, white men’s shirt, her breasts dancing their own ballet.”

“I think watching even three minutes of that, I’d fuck her, too.”

“I hadn’t considered it, you know, appreciating beauty without feeling the need to fuck it.”

“Chinese algebra dick.”

I sighed. “I was fine until I took her up in my arms to dance, drowning in the whole day of stink on her.”

“Oh, fuck. Shawn stink. One night during the blizzard, we hit the bed without the shower. My gosh. I had to sneak off to the bathroom and do myself – twice.”

“You never have to sneak off –”

“Can’t you tell I know that?”

 

Soon after Pamala left, I heard the key enter the lockset, newspaper spread on the table, coffee at the ready. I rolled my eyes at the gentle tapping.

The door opened, Shawn’s head appeared. I waved her in.

“I’m not sure how anything works. I want to kiss you hello. May I?”

“Like you and Pam often do?”

She blushed. “Yeah. Only if you want.”

“I want. We can’t hug at your work anymore. Have to make up for it somehow.”

She came around the table, rolled her hair over her shoulder while bending, putting her lips on mine. I wanted to hook her head, hold the kiss longer. She stood, sitting across from me. “Any good news in there?”

Folding and setting the newspaper aside, I said, “Rarely.” I did not offer the obvious what do you want.

“I wanted to clear things up.”

Sitting back, I dropped my chin, waving my right hand off to the side. “Clear away.”

“You’re a real asshole sometimes.”

I shrugged. “Most people find that my best quality.”

“For me, not your best quality. Close to the top of the list, though.”

“Anyway.”

“I didn’t mean to upset Pamala. I love her in a way few people can understand.”

“You didn’t.”

“Huh?”

“I should have seen it coming like a car running a stop sign. Pamala enthusiastically and repeatedly encouraged me to put my hand down your underwear.”

“I know, right? If I’d known she’d react this way, I’d not let you, eh, let is the wrong word. I was pulling and pushing just as enthusiastically and repeatedly as you.”

“I know what you meant.”

“I really wanted to do you – I'm glad, I guess, I didn’t.”

“I’m going to circle back. There was nothing wrong with what we did. Pamala encouraged us. You even said once that Pamala told you that you can do anything you wish with me. Last night in the dance studio when our palms and eyes met –”

“I recall that moment.”

“That’s when I decided.”

“Me, too.”

“More like the decision came over me.”

“That I saw, too. Wild. Lit me on fire.”

“Pam’s good. She loves you in a way few people will understand. The night we worked the dinner, Jessica banged Pam’s brains out, which I have no problem with. Jessica’s a great fuck.”

“You think Pamala pushes me on you so somehow you’re even?”

“I think that could be part of it, maybe a small part. I think in the core, Pamala loves you. She wants to share something she feels beautiful with you.”

Shawn nodded softly. “Boy and girl, mate for life, forsaking all others.”

“We’re fed a lot of bullshit about what the rules are. I’m working on a contract with Pamala.”

“Contract?”

“An agreement. Pamala freaked out when she was sure I was dead. She said she needed to hear the words. She needed it in writing.”

“Will it make me cry?”

“Yes. One thing I excluded was the forsaking all others nonsense. For example, Jessica is an incredible fuck. Why would I wish to deprive Pamala of that experience?”

“Which brings us around to last night, the goose and the gander.”

“If Pamala doesn’t want me fucking anyone else, I won’t. Building that kind of relationship, that kind of trust with another human being is simply too much work for me anyway.”

“Toby, my God, that’s flattering.”

“I really can’t stand people close to me, people I don’t have that kind of trust with. I think it may have something to do with my uncle pinning me down at family events, his face in mine, his putrid breath, him jerking off, spunking on my legs, sometimes in my face.”

“Holy fuck, Toby. I’d take a knee if I wasn’t sitting.”

I held Shawn’s eyes. “The only people who can do any real damage to your soul are people you trust.”

“Which is a perfect segue.”

“A what?”

She rolled her eyes. “Transition from one music movement to another without interruption – or in a story.”

“By all means.” I offered my slight bow, hand motion again. “Segue away.”

“Raymond.”

“Jody’s older sister, Lisa’s friend. Shut your mouth. I have a great memory.”

“Older boy, older than me. Deep rich brown eyes, tall, a boy in a man’s body.”

“Your eyes are sparkling.”

“Fuck you.”

I shrugged. “OK, so Lance Romance.”

“He was good. He did Lance Romance me. He made me feel special. Had me to the house, included in family dinners over six months, treated me like a princess. We were three weeks into dating before I even realized we were dating.

“One night, on the step of my parent’s house, under the moon and the stars, a slight summer breeze, he asked politely whether he could kiss me. The moment was special, the kiss not so much. I thought I could like boys. I wanted to like boys. I wanted to be normal.

“The summer was just like that night. Quiet days, subtle romance. I was even thinking that I could marry him, even if I was gay, have children, be a wife. Maybe I wouldn’t be as happy as I could be. Maybe I wouldn’t be terribly unhappy. After all, I was sure he loved me.

“I should have known, the house, older teenaged boys, others older than that, a keg or two of beer. Me the only girl.”

“Don’t even do the I should have known.”

“Yeah, I know.

“Raymond introduced me as his virgin, cheers around, excited glares at me. He told me to take my sweater off. I refused. He slapped me hard. More cheers. As if a well-rehearsed ritual, he demanded a piece of clothing, I complied, more cheers.

“At this point my only wish was they not kill me. Raymond threw me to the floor, literally, picked me up and threw me, dropped his pants to his knees, and fucked me to the wild cheers of his audience. He said in my face, You love me, baby, you love me.

“I knew I was lucky. Lucky they all didn’t take a turn. Lucky they didn’t kill me, I sobbed there on the floor for maybe an hour, naked, balled up, semen and blood leaking from me, the boys drinking beer, spitting on me occasionally, voices little more than background noise.

“I gathered my clothes and left, finally getting dressed four or five blocks away. Raymond never called. I told my parents the next day. My father shook his head, dismissively telling me I got what I asked for, seeing an older boy, hanging out at party where boys drink.

“So, Toby. Thank you for what you’re doing for Jane and Rachel. Thanks for reaching out to me. You have no idea what you – and Pam – mean to me.”

“Rachel?”

She twisted her face, looking like she wanted to spit. “My father was angry. At me. Embarrassed, more than anything. You know. What are the neighbors going to think? The people at church? Our family doctor arranged for a D&C in the hospital. That’s –”

“I know what that is.”

“You?”

“No, I read a lot.”

“I’d like to go with you guys Thursday night.”

“I agree. Let’s keep your story between us for now. I don’t know how much more pounding Pamala’s heart can bear.”

“Agreed.”

 

I wished for night and my sharp reflection in the window of Collings Nook instead of the late afternoon translucent image. Donna Weber was a bubbly child, couldn’t have been much older than me, flitting around the room with boundless energy. Thin, not Harvest Diane thin, more like me. Sandy brown hair in a loose ponytail down her back, pink dress with white cuffed sleeves, hem on her knee, white sneakers.

Her large doe eyes met mine. “More?” She presented the coffee pot.

“Eh, I’m good.”

“Love your suit.”

“Thanks.”

“I was just imagining you’re a doorman at one of those fancy hotels in Philly.”

“That would be doorwoman.”

She giggled. “You’re funny.”

“I was a wedding photographer’s assistant today.”

“Sounds like fun.”

“Not in the least. I’d rather wash dishes.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“It just so happens my dad is looking for a dishwasher.”

“Your dad?”

“Yeah.” She dropped across from me. “My dad. He owns the place. Allen Weber?”

“I thought a Mr. Nook owned the place.”

Again, the giggle. “You’re funny!”

“You said that.” I took a draw on my coffee, watching her over my cup. “Is he here now?”

“Let me get him.”

“I don’t want to bother –”

She was gone, just that quick.

What I wanted to do was finish my coffee, catch glimpses of myself in the window, and plan my next camping trip. Instead, I met Allen Weber on my feet.

He was an older male distorted reflection of Donna, but without hair. “Toni Blanc,” I said.

“You,” he answered.

“I’m sorry for the misunderstanding. I’m not looking for a job. I did wish to talk to you.”

“That, eh, matter, is all taken care of, as long as you behave yourself.”

I closed my eyes, biting my lip. “I’ve got a plan, in the infant stage.” I opened my eyes.”

“What kind of plan?”

“I’m going to feed poor people.”

“Huh?”

“I told you it’s in the infant stage. I’ll put it this way: If I plan ahead, and this is a ballpark, can you provide twenty complete meals for pickup late on a Saturday afternoon?”

“Best I can do is a ten percent discount.”

“That wasn’t the question. I do not understand your antagonism.”

“Antagonism? I’m a busy man. I don’t have time for this nonsense. Maybe let me know when you have an actual plan.”

I turned, placing a five-dollar bill on the table for my coffee. “Thank you, Donna.” I squared to Mr. Weber, bowing my head slightly. “Thank you for your time today. When I have an actual plan, I’ll have my lawyer boilerplate a contract.”

“I didn’t mean –”

“Oh, yes you did.”

 

Just outside, like a car running a stop sign, a man had me by the elbow from behind. “Don’t I know you?”

I’d gotten too comfortable in my environment. I forcibly, but politely pulled my arm free, stepping back. “I’ve never seen your face before.”

“You look so familiar. Jack Blanc.” He held a hand forward.

I did not accept the hand. “Sorry, Mr. Blanc. I’ve never seen you before. I never forget a face.”

“I was watching you. In there.” He rolled his head toward Collings Nook.

I took a step back. “You’re standing out here watching me in there this whole time?”

“No, no, no. I was walking by, saw you having an argument with Mr. Weber. Are you OK. Can I help?”

Are you allergic to chloroform? How about I tie you to a stanchion in the basement?

I held his eyes, taking a step forward. “Are we going to have a problem here?”

In the single flap of a bee’s wing, I saw, yes, we were going to have a problem.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

I stepped back again, offering my head bow. “I appreciate your offer to help. They say gallantry is dead. Mr. Weber and I weren’t arguing. I was complimenting what a great waitress his daughter is.”

“You’re welcome.” He narrowed his eyes. “You look so familiar.”

“The gene pool isn’t as large as people think it is.”

 

“Toni,” the phone said, answered on the fourth ring, me having left the door open.

“Mr. Peters.”

“We have a contract.”

I hung up, turned, catching the dark oak cane coming in a feeble two-fisted high swing with my right hand.

“Mable!”

“I can’t stand even the thought of you corrupting that sweet girl!”

Pushing, I set her on the sofa, keeping the cane, looming. “What’s your plan? To kill me?”

“Eh, I don’t know what I was thinking. I looked out. Your door was open.”

“Michelle didn’t talk to you?”

“About?”

“You knowing something about something?”

“I saw you with that girl.”

I shrugged. “Michelle needs to talk to you. Do I have your promise you won’t kill me until after that?”

“OK.”

“You need to say it.”

“I promise.”

“Promise what?”

“I promise not to kill you until after I talk to Michael.”

The car, Mable, and Mr. Blanc, I thought, as the door closed behind her. “I really need to get back to living like there’s people out to kill me.”

Bathed, tea with just tea, I lounged in my fake La-Z-Boy, barely skimming my files. Marcy was fun to be around. Anticipating her needs was easy, working with the people even easier, yet draining.

The church ceremony told me, though flamboyant in a fun sort of celebration, it wasn’t something Pamala and I would want. I learned what made the people husband and wife was the signing of the wedding certificate issued by the township, not the ceremony.

The ceremony I witnessed, the couple joined the church family as a couple. I closed my eyes. “What therefore God has joined together, let no man put asunder. What an odd statement. Kind of poetic, but odd just the same.”

Keys sang like fairies talking in the hall, the door opening, delivering Pamala. “Longest day of my life,” she moaned, gathering the files to the carpet, climbing, a knee on either side of me, taking my face. “You know I love you forever and always?”

“My faith in that can never be shaken.”

“I don’t know why I’m so insecure.”

“Because you lost your sister.”

“My statement was rhetorical.”

“I thought as much.”

“I’m sorry I was a snotty little cunt last night and if you shrug your shoulders, I’m going to smack you.”

“No shrugging.”

“Of course, it’s OK with me if you and Shawn fuck, even if I saw her first.”

“I’m not sure how healthy that is.”

“Oh, I had a long talk with myself all day. I’m fine with it.”

“I’m talking about healthy for Shawn. I instinctively told Jessica not to stick her fingers in her.”

“Stuff we’re taught living in society?”

“Implied ownership.”

“Ah. So, I’m jealous because I feel I own you and you’re like a cake. Someone takes a piece, you’re smaller, less.”

“Today at the wedding –”

“I am a snotty little cunt. How was your day?”

I rolled my eyes. “Summary: men. Drinking. Three touched me inappropriately, maybe eight said some shit.”

“Did you hurt anyone?”

“No. Marcy was paying me to be nice to people.”

“You’ll be sticking with the grass cutting.”

“I do love a well-maintained landscape.”

“Dad gave me the day off, the whole day.”

“Why’d he do that?”

“I told him to. Other than church, you’re stuck with me.”

“I have three lawns scheduled.”

“On a Sunday? Even God rested on Sunday.”

“God was done his work.”

“I propose we shower –”

“I just –”

“And I don’t care. We shower. I wash your hair.”

“I wash yours, too?”

“Only if you really want to. That, I figured out, is what our relationship is all about. I’ve been thinking about this ever since you said you’re uncomfortable with me inside you. That you tolerate it because I like it.”

“I’ve been thinking, too, about the cucumber –”

“So not the point, Toby. I was going to say if you do church with me in the morning, I’ll join you in the lawn mowing.”

“You don’t have to –”

“Here’s the deal. I’m going to sneak off to early mass in the morning, then join you in lawn mowing not because you need the help, but because I want to spend that time with you. If you want to join me at mass, that’s cool, not required.”

“Early mass?”

“Yeah, for people who still have work to do, far less crowded. Once I graduate, I doubt I’ll continue attending.”

“Shower, then.”

“Shower.” Her eyes sparkled. “Maybe tomorrow evening, if it’s not too weird for you, you can put a cucumber up my butt.” She shivered.

“I ate it.”

“Oh, not a cucumber like that, anyway. It needs to be an English cucumber.”

 

The soft wave of Pamala’s breathing washed over me in the darkness, her on her back, asleep, my arm resting on her chest bent at the elbow, my fingers in my mouth. I resisted sleep, floating in a bubble, drowning in a perfect universe, holding that bubble for as long as I could.

 I felt I should be glowing.

I’d heard the creak of the front door, a muted whisper against the backdrop of the darkness, then a crash resounded, jolting me to full consciousness working into my blue terry robe.

“What is it?” Pamala asked.

“Stay here.”

I thought The Bat had come to trash my apartment, maybe kill me, or attempt to kill me – maybe Rambler Man to take another run at me.

In the hall, at the beckoning of my finger, the overhead living room light flooded the space. Shawn, her sloppy hair curtaining her face, white sequin fringe body dress, straps, swooping neckline, hem just above the knee staggered back on her three-inch heel sandals like a child caught looking at adult magazines in her parent’s bedroom.

“Toby,” she managed, adding an embarrassed laugh.

Michael, his suit jacket clutched in his right hand, lie face-down apparently having lost his footing, encountering the table on his way to the floor, accounting for the crash. Like a trickling garden hose, he threw up in three surges onto my beige carpet.

Michael, a cliché, passed out in a pool of his own vomit.

Setting my eight-inch rebar on the table, I closed my eyes for a moment, vowing not to be a cliché parent, navigating around the obvious You’re drunk at Shawn. “Are you parked legally? Take the sofa, I’ll get you a blanket.”

Pamala walked past me, going to Shawn, taking her keys. “I’ll check the car.”

“I’m alright,” Shawn insisted.

“I know you are,” Pamala told her. “Sofa.” Pamala sat Shawn down. “We’d love you here in the morning.”

“You would?”

“Always.”

Pamala glanced me on her way out the door. I pursed my lips.

Leaning on the kitchen sink with both hands, I watched the foam rise in the bucket. “Fuck,” I said aloud, my lower lip trembling.

Pamala’s warm hand came over mine, her whisper in my ear. “I can do it.”

“I had an entire childhood preparing me for this moment.”

Pamala growled in my ear. “I should have taken her by the hair, bounced her head three, maybe six times off the floor.”

“You don’t have the stomach for murder, which makes you a better human being than me.”

“We all have our different talents, Toby. It’s not a contest to determine who gets the Better Human Being award.”

“If I knew there was a trophy, I’d have tried harder.”

“Leave him there?”

“Strip him, bag his clothes, wipe the puke off him, drop him in his bed.”

“You did that for your mother?’

“Fuck, no. I let her lie in the pool of her own vomit. I want to get the fucking smell out of the apartment. Bourbon. It had to be Bourbon. If I don’t get that stink out of the carpet now, it may never come out.”

I shut the water off.

 

I wore my spaghetti strap sundress with the cute little blue flower print, leather sandals – and nothing else. OK, hoop earrings.

Pamala wore a similar white dress with a bursting large red flower print, no earrings. The obvious difference between the two outfits was Pamala’s breasts wrestled their containment.

“We didn’t have to get dress up,” Pamala said, sitting back when the waitress, Margaery, but you may call me Maggie, set our plates on the table at Homer’s Diner.

Maggie reminded me of The Tower’s Sally, happy, pleasant, blonde hair tied sloppy on her head. “Carlos thinks you’re weird.”

“Because of the brown gravy with the fries?” Pamala asked.

“Cheeseburgers for breakfast. I tell you, my favorite all time breakfast is shrimp scampi with a kaiser roll loaded with butter.”

I retrieved my notebook and pen from my suede bag.

“So hard to get good scampi out,” Pamala said.

“Don’t I know it! Try to get it for breakfast.”

Pamala looked at me. “That’s one of the things I’m going to get Jessica to teach me to make.”

I tore off the top page. “Opens in the fall. Make a reservation. Dinner for two, on me.”

“Best scampi I ever had, and I’ve had a lot.”

Maggie glanced my note, then narrowed her eyes at Pamala. “If they’re not open –”

“We know people.”

 

“Do you think Maggie really likes shrimp scampi?” Pamala absently asked the windshield.

“I don’t really care. It was good schtick.”

“Comradery, made us feel at home. I’m proud of you.”

“I doubt she’ll ever remember come the fall. It did get me thinking. I’m going to get together John Goldman, get some drawings, do some sort of promotional coupons.”

She rolled her eyes. “For last night. How you handled it.”

“Last night I dealt with it. I’ve not handled it yet.”

“I know you’re disappointed.”

“Michael has a dick. Everything he does is expected. Disappointed is not the word I would use. Shawn, however, was a chaperone.”

“I follow that. What do you think you’re going to do?”

“Like I do with anything. I’ll listen, gather facts.”

“Issue edicts?”

“If I must.”

 

“Where have you been?” Michael glared at me sitting at the table, looking up from the coffee cup.

“Hi, eh, Michelle.”

“Oh, sorry I didn’t do my makeup for you. I’ve been sick this morning.”

I let the door close behind me, stepping forward. “I have never asked you to peacock for me. I’ve only asked you to be a girl. As for you being sick. This was an every morning with my mother. You’re mad, you don’t know at what. You’re going to take it out on me. And, the blinding headache.”

“I fucked up. I know it. I don’t ever remember taking my clothes off.”

“That was Pam and me.”

He blushed.

“Pam wanted to take a marking pen, write all sorts of shit all over you like a dick on your forehead. She says it’s a tradition.”

“Thanks for not doing that.”

I’d not noticed the shower running until the sound fell away.

“I told her it was disrespectful. You helpless and all.”

“Are you going to throw me out?”

“Not over this.”

“Over what, then?”

“The day is early.” I sat across from him, not used to seeing the morning peach fuzz on his face. “Other than getting falling down drunk, how’d it go?”

“Lenette is not fat. To hear George tell it, I expected this lumbering elephant. She’s fat in a Pamala’s fat kind of way.”

I bit my lip. If Pamala hadn’t just gotten me off in the church parking lot, I might have knocked him off the chair. “I should throw you out just for saying that – again.”

“I didn’t mean it that way!”

“I know how you meant it. Like the children in Lenette’s school, like the children in Pamala’s school. Every fucking time you open your mouth, think you want to be an ally, not an asshole before you speak.”

“Really, Toby. I didn’t mean it as an insult.”

“OK, so Lenette isn’t so fat she’s offensive to look at. Go on.”

“Toby!”

I put my elbows on the table, my chin on my folded hands. “I’ll lighten up – Michelle.”

“Sarcasm?”

“Maybe.”

“I was not comfortable.”

“In the guise of Michael.”

“Exactly. George didn’t help much. He didn’t recognize me. Shocked, when he opened the door.”

“That doesn’t surprise me.”

“I really can’t get a good look. I know I don’t look like me, rather – fuck, you know what I mean. I did what you suggested, at the mall. Watching myself in the windows. What a magical experience.”

“It is.”

“There I am, meeting the family, my brain screaming: No one likes Michael. But, they did. They were all glad to meet me. Lenette’s my height, hair like yours used to be, parted in the middle. Cool blue eyes like mine. She greeted me with a hug like I’ve never had. Even better than yours!”

“She’s a good hug, nowhere near Toby’s,” Shawn said, entering, working a towel on her head. “Toby holds back with you.”

“Yeah, at first I got that full body hug. Now it’s the pity hug."

“Antoinette got the full body hug.”

“We talked about this.”

“Lenette is a pretty girl,” Shawn said. “She wore the fuck out of satin. White, crisscross showing off the exact right amount of cleavage, hem on her thigh. I’d do her if she weren’t fifteen.”

“I’m fifteen,” I said.

“Going on fifty, maybe.”

“My first thought wasn’t I wanted to do her. My first thought was I wanted to get in her closet. I hurt. I couldn’t breathe. It was all I could do not to have a panic attack. I didn’t want to be Michael. I wanted to be the prettiest girl in the room.

“Alvin, that’s her dad, took me to his study to have a talk with me. It was funny. He was like any other man I’d blown hitchhiking for spending money. Drink, he asked me. I had no idea what to do. Really? Turn him down? I agreed. We each did a shot. He lectured me on how he expected me to treat his daughter. Basic stuff.

“I agreed with thoughtful nods, good points, and makes sense. I thought at the time that being invited into the study, talked to like an adult, like a man, I got comfortable being a man, being Michael.”

“When you got to the car, you did seem way different,” Shawn said.

“You were out in the car this whole time?”

“It was only ten minutes.”

“It was the three shots. Somehow, they shut Michelle down, letting me be Michael.”

“You do know both my parents are fall down drunks, right?”

Shawn shrugged a question.

“You’ve never said it outright.”

“Let me state this clearly and emphatically. My parents are both fall down drunks. I attribute all their failings as human beings to this choice of theirs.”

“Toby, I had no idea.”

I stared hard at Shawn, my right eye twitching. “I can’t wait to get to your portion of this tale.”

“Emphatically?”

“Yes, Michelle, GED word. Don’t miss my point about drinking. You worked the dinner. You saw many regular people turn into instant assholes.”

“That guy in the pink dress.”

I rolled my eyes.

“OK, that woman in the pink dress. He was like the leading example of that. I was flattered, given the crowd, he thought I was a real girl.”

“You are a real girl, if that’s what you want to be.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Did I become an instant asshole?” Michelle asked Shawn.

“Yes.”

“You could have thought about it for a minute! Maybe said not all the time.”

“OK, not so much instant. It didn’t help your not being an asshole cause when it turned out you were one of six boys in the room who could actually dance and you were head-and-fucking-shoulders over the other five.”

Michelle blushed. “A lot of girls could dance.”

“They were OK. Lenette loaned you out to dance with other girls, running up at the end of each dance, planting a kiss right on your lips.”

I laughed. “Lucky she didn’t pee on you.”

“Right?” Shawn said.

“Huh?”

“She was marking her territory,” I explained.

Again, Michelle blushed. “I didn’t so much mind being marked her territory. She was the only interesting girl in the room, which I think may have something to do with her talking in complete sentences, impressing the fuck out of me by not trying to impress me.

“Toby, you and Pamala have spoiled me.”

“Me, too?” Shawn asked.

“Shawn, you’re smart – smarter than me. But you’re nowhere near Toby-and-Pam smart. Just the facts.”

“Oh,” I said. “I think she’s near – Pamala smart.”

“I knew how smart you are and I’m not when you put my two college papers through the meatgrinder. I learned as much from your edits and rewrites than I did the actual assignments.”

I shrugged.

Michelle glanced Shawn, then held my eyes. “At the door, Lenette said it was a shame she’d never have a place to wear such a nice dress to again.”

I rolled my eyes so hard, they got stuck.

“Oh,” Michelle said. “You’ve heard that one before?”

“She was letting you know she was up for a second date in a way she’d not have to face overt rejection if you weren’t interested.”

“Overt?”

“Yeah, GED, put in on your list.”

“How do you know that, Toby?” Shawn asked. “About the words?”

“I took the test in the fall.”

“You remember?”

“I don’t forget much. Did you let her down easy?”

Michelle blushed – again.

I rolled my eyes – again. “I guess you like this girl.”

“I do.”

“Do not swoon. I will have no swooning.”

“Michelle,” Shawn said. “Tell her.”

She gnashed her teeth. “I was drunk. I don’t remember that.”

“You were not drunk. Drunk came later.”

“I tried. I can’t explain it. I don’t know what happened. I know what happened, I just don’t know why.”

I released a long sigh. “I’m not going to want to hear this, am I.”

Shawn nodded sharply. “You are not. Michelle.”

Michelle worked one hand over the other in front of her chest as if scrubbing her hands, a tear forcing out her right eye, down her cheek. “There’s this boy. Charley. The kids whispered, wondering if he was going to do what he said he was going to.

“I asked Lenette. She giggled into a laugh. An hour into the dance, spotlights hit the door. We all turn. The P.A. announces: Here’s Charley. And, here is Charley. The doors held open for him, he swishes in, ten paces in the door, his right hand goes toward the ceiling, his left hand on his hip. Big smile. A gown to rival Lenette’s, these wonderful, fragile silver sandals like glass slippers.

“Oh, I wanted those tiny feet of his. His makeup was perfect, what you call elfin makeup – without the two red circles. Toby. That moment. He just may have been the most beautiful human being I have ever, ever seen. I’m overcome with the spectacle, the kid, the school, holding Charley in such high regard.

“You remember in our old school, I got my head shoved in a toilet.”

“I do recall that.”

Another tear joined the first. “In a moment that will change my life forever, I realized they’re not celebrating Charley. The lights, the announcement. Mocking him. Kids start yelling, fairy queer! Fairy queer! Thrusting a fist in the air with each yell. Lenette elbows me as she screams.”

The tears came. “I joined them, Toby. Stepping forward, yelling with them. Throwing my fist in the air.” He put his face in his hands.

“Fuck,” I said breathlessly. “Holy fucking fuck.”

“I got this,” Shawn jumped in. “I think I may have said, holy fucking fuck, from the back of the room. I was glad the kids only had paper cups with punch to throw instead of rocks. I pushed my way to Michael, wound up and smacked him so fucking hard across the back of his head, he went sprawling across the floor.

“I followed, turned, made as much eye contact as possible, repeatedly asking what the fuck was wrong with them until I got enough attention to make a difference. Charley had been removed, I hope by some authority and not a gang of rapists.

“I was gathered up by a couple chaperones, deposited outside, thanked for my volunteering.”

Michael wiped his face on his shirt tail. “Ten minutes later, it was as if nothing had happened. As if nothing had happened. Toby. What the fuck?”

“Michael.” I held his eyes. “I do not have an explanation that would not require a blackboard, an overhead projector, and three days.”

“But, still. You know that wasn’t me.”

“On the contrary, Michelle. I know that is each of us. And, that knowledge scares the fuck out of me.”

I did not turn from Michelle. “Shawn.”

She stepped closer. “Toby?”

“I have never loved you more than I do in this moment.”

She gave one sharp nod. “Thank you. I hear someone on the stairs.”

“That would be Pamala. We’re working today. She went home to change, which I have to do once I hear your woe tale.”

“You change, another time.”

Entering, Pamala kissed me like the world was ending.

“Have I told you today how much I love you?” I asked.

“Repeatedly, and loud enough to get the attention of people in the church parking lot. I’m pleased you’ve not killed anyone.”

“We’re just wrapping up. Shawn?”

“I was so mad I could spit nails. If I had a length of chain and a can of gasoline, things would be way different.”

“I’m sorry I missed the beginning,” Pamala said.

“You’re not. Shawn.”

“Three of the chaperones, women, found me stewing in my car, praising me for my courage, blah, blah, blah. They were having a private chaperone adult after party, invited me to join. I figured Michael could take a nap in the car. I obviously misread the invitation.”

“I would have thought that, too,” I said.

“What?” Pam asked.

“It ended up the five of us, Michael included, sitting in a circle passing a bottle around, trashing humanity.”

“That, Shawn,” I said, “could have easily turned. Don’t ever get drunk like that and drive again. You could kill yourself or someone else.”

 

 

Part 23