Michael, Antoinette, and Me

 

Part Ten

 

Tex rolled his eyes, setting tea on the counter. “You look like an Eskimo.”

I rolled my eyes, pulling at my mitten. “It’s cold out there!”

“Sing it, sister. Six miles is no joyride.”

“You rode all the way here on the bicycle?” Carol asked.

“It’s a long walk. I have other stops today.”

Tex, elbows on the counter, watched my eyes. “Oh, tell me more.”

“Not all that interesting.”

“You two seem awful chummy lately.”

I winked at Carol. “I passed. The GED. Came in the mail.”

“That’s great.”

“I need a map.”

“Of?”

“Here, surrounding area – fifty miles out.”

“Bookstore,” Tex said while Carol pondered.

 

Bundled like I was, no one noticed me until I was through the line at the Harvest Chateau, disrobing at a rear table, tempted to put my hands in the hot soup.

 “Toby,” Pamala greeted. “You didn’t have to pay for that.”

I shrugged. “I believe in supporting local businesses.”

She dropped across from me. “Two people asked me if I’m pregnant.”

I laughed. “I told you you’re glowing.”

“Speaking of. My hair’s really, really dirty.”

“Oh, gee, Pam, would you like me to wash it for you tonight?”

“Would you?”

“I would.”

“I’ll bring meatloaf, mashed potatoes. Maybe some green beans. We always have green beans left over.”

“I’d like to pay –”

“Nonsense.”

“You’re not in business to give food away.”

“We’d throw it away, anyway. I’m off the entire day tomorrow.”

“How’d you swing that?”

“I know the boss. I can stay the night. You want me for the whole day?”

“Of course.”

“I didn’t want to be presumptionating. He’s given me the whole day Wednesday, too. He thinks it’s going to take hours for us to get ready.”

“I guess that’ll depend on how distracted with get with hair washing and all.”

She blushed. “We decided you’re working Thursday.”

“You’re closed Thursday.”

“Mom and me are closing out the month, the quarter, and the year. We thought it’d be good experience for you.”

“If you’re in the room, I’m there. I was planning on keeping you after the party.”

“Dad said no problem, as long as I call when we get back to the house.”

“And wake him up?”

“He said that would not be a problem.”

I unfolded a map around my soup and coffee, smoothing out the creases. “I thought your mother had a job.”

“She does.” Pam slid from the chair. “I have to get back to work. Investment banker.” She kissed the top of my head. “She oversees the books, too, makes sure I’m doing everything right.”

“Investment banker. Sounds important. Has to do with money?”

“Lots of money.”  

 

I lingered in the center court, near the fountain, close to where Santa did his thing, now everything gone, me invisible to those people moving passed – invisible because they were trapped in their own bubbles. If they looked, they could have seen the Eskimo girl peering out the hood pulled tight.

Tammy Flannagan’s strawberry hair bounced on her dark blue shirt, Tammy across the way, through the glass, across the store, behind the counter at Bailey’s Jewelers, gushing over a man’s choice of watches. Her excitement annoyed me even at fifty paces.

She was a schmoozer, like Sally at the White Tower, everybody’s good friend. She was good at it like Sally. I wanted to walk away from the past, close the door like it never was. I had the feeling, like an annoying bit of underdone potato lodged in my gut, Tammy wasn’t going to let me go.

I ignored my brother problem and got gang raped.

Choices. Stalk, look for the perfect time and place in her day, murder her, make it look like a robbery. I didn’t think she’d rape me. Given her relationship with my father, she could still no doubt fuck me pretty good.

In all the dark places in the universe and across the mindscape, I couldn’t imagine my father wasting any time with thoughts of me. At home – that is to say his home – I was nothing, in the way, barely an animate object there to take his frustrations on when my mother wasn’t available. He didn’t so much run off with Tammy as he ran away from us and adult responsibilities.

 “Tammy,” I said through my teeth watching her run a credit card in the imprinter. Barely a woman, a woman just the same, looking to fix things. Of course she’d wish to fix my nonexistent relationship with my father.

Right on cue, my father appeared, entering the jeweler. Tammy hurried around the counter. They hugged. My father was not a large man. Still, twice her size. I did not remember him being that overweight.

As they came onto the mall, I pulled the strings tighter on the hood of my thermal coat, put my head down, hands in my pocket, approached, placing my shoulder in his, rolling off.

“Hey!” He spun, watching my back.

“Asshole,” I proclaimed, right hand to the ceiling, my middle finger displayed.

“Why the nerve,” he called at me because that was absolutely all he had.

 

I do not mind the cold. I have limits. Six miles dancing into the wind on my bicycle, I couldn’t feel my hands or face, back to house, crawling into the fire. My tea mug shook in my hands, working the telephone book and local map.

“Two miles,” I moaned. “Four round trip.”

 

Red Rover was planted in the middle of a block of storefronts on busy Maple Avenue. “Should call it Red Terrier,” I said aloud, the cartoon dog on the sign obviously a terrier.

Rose was a large woman in her early forties, behind an old oak desk, cigarette dancing in her lips as she spoke on the telephone, her dark umber hair in a messy ball on top her head. She pushed the base of a microphone. “Twenty-four. You done your seven?”

The radio crackled. “Five minutes.”

“What do you want?”

Six paces off the desk, I looked one side than the other, not used to being summarily dismissed in tone.

“I would like to book, reserve, whatever you call it, a cab for New Year’s Eve.”

“Oh, honey, that’s a busy night.”

“12:20 AM, actually on the 1^st, New Year’s night. There’ll just be two of us.” I stepped to the desk, placing the folded map. “Here. There’s an estate. Can’t miss it. Coming back to town.”

“Oh, honey, we don’t go out that far.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Don’t oh, honey me, lady. It’s disrespectful.” After so many bike miles under my tires, my hands on fire, I was not in the mood to schmooze. “What will it take for you to go out that far?”

She gave me the well, I never face, which I always look for. I’d heard the door behind me.

“Toby?”

Keeping Rose’s eyes, I said, “Hi, Rex. Good holiday?”

“Yes. You?”

“Magical.”

Rex stepped beside me. “What’s this, Rose?” He took the map, whistling.

“I know it’s far –”

“Not that, Toby. I’ve taken, eh, people there.”

“New Year’s Eve. Twenty minutes after midnight. I’ll be the one running out the front door as if my hair’s on fire.”

Rex snickered. “Pencil me in, Rose.”

She snorted, pencil working.

“Need a ride up?”

“House limo.”

He whistled again. “Who are you?”

“I’m nobody. Just the little shit girl. If my bike will fit in your trunk, can I get a ride home?”

“At your service, Toby.” He bowed, arm sweeping toward the door.

 

As the feeling returned to my hands, they caught on fire. I did not feel like talking to anyone on the telephone. “Hello?”

“Kearny wanted your number.”

“Hi, Bill. How are you?”

“Eh, oh, hello, Toby. I’m good. How are you?”

“I’ve learned today that I’m not invincible.”

“I would have thought ripping your arm open would have taught you that.”

“Sometimes I have to be told twice. Kearny wanted my number? My telephone number?”

“Yes. To go over the results.”

“He never heard of directory assistance?”

“You’re listed?”

“I was not aware I could be unlisted. I guess the results are complicated.”

“I think he just wanted to ask you out.”

“Ew, creepy. So, I’m good?”

“Everything was negative.”

I was immensely relieved I’d not have to have that conversation with Jessica and Michael.

 

The fire’s happy fingers painted us in yellow and orange, us sitting on the floor with our plates.

“It’s cold outside,” Pamala stated the obvious, her plate set aside as she dug in her tanned leather bag.

“Brass monkey alert.”

She giggled. “Here.”

I accepted the framed eight by ten photograph, a holiday family photo. When Pamala’s father took the photo on a tripod with time delay, I thought I’d look odd in the group of five. I looked like I belonged. I wiped a tear off my cheek with a palm. “Thanks.”

“Being the presumptionater, I thought you could put this up where you have the picture of your mother.”

“Huh?”

“In your bedroom.”

“Oh, that’s not my mother. I cut that out of a magazine years ago. She reminded me of what Antoinette would look like as an adult.”

Pamala gave me huh face.

I shrugged. “It’s not like I had any photos of her.”

“You could have dressed up like her and had a picture taken.”

“I could have if I thought of it. I do think I will replace the photo with this one.” I examined the photo. “This makes everything so real.”

“Let’s.”

“Let’s what?”

“Get some photos taken in the mall. I know the photographer.”

“It’s a date.”

I fished in my red suede bag, coming up with a key. “Would you please accept this?”

“I would, thank you.” Taking the key, she worked it onto her keyring.

“I was not comfortable leaving a key on the doorsill the other day.”

“I get that.” She bit her lip. “You ducked out just in time today.”

“Life is all about timing.”

“Your dad and Tammy came in for lunch. Kind of creepy how they paw at each other.”

“Worse than us?”

“Way worse than us – in public. He was angry ranting about how some guy walked right into him. You know, youth today, disrespect, all that. He insisted to Tammy he should have kicked the guy’s ass.”

I laughed.

“What?”

“That was me.”

“Well, thanks.”

“For?”

“He was all worked up. Demanded information about you. I guess feeding off his aggression, Tammy went on an odd religious tirade concerning homosexuality. She’s always so sweet she makes my teeth hurt. This one’s got a dark side and it’s not pretty when it comes out.”

“Fuck. Sorry.”

“Oh, it’s not really your fault. Looking back, I’d guess Tammy was waiting for the perfect moment to unload that nonsense on me. I think your dad was going to grab me, stepping as he blubbered something about how I corrupted you.”

“Double fuck. Double sorry.”

She shrugged. “This lasted all of maybe forty seconds. Peter appeared between them and me, Peter quietly explaining they should sit down, enjoy their lunch, or leave. I was surprised he gave them the choice.

“They ate, whispering to each other, giving me the muck face as if I smelled bad or something. Peter mumbled too himself for an hour.”

“I really thought once I packed my semen-stained underwear in my backpack and hit the door, that would be the last of it.”

“Stained underwear?”

“Raping me wasn’t humiliating enough. They felt the need to take the time out of their busy, busy day too jerk off on my clothes.”

“Ew.”

“Looks like I’m going to have to take time from my busy, busy schedule and have a conversation with my father and Tammy. I guess me telling Tammy the other day I was done with her and my father wasn’t good enough. I’m going to have to tell her twice.”

I retrieved the framed photograph, a happy family relaxed in front of a beautiful Christmas tree. “I do live a cliché at times. I’ll give them a copy of this, my family now.” I narrowed my eyes. “Look how happy I am.”

“Look how happy we all are.”

Pamala took my hand, my eyes. “Before you go on a murder spree or burn anything to the ground, give it some time. Dad’s going to talk to Mr. Bailey – they’re pretty good friends, which is how I got your heart done so quickly, see if he can put a leash on Tammy.

“Dad’s also going to call the paper, have a conversation with your dad’s boss. That should get both Tammy and your father behaving themselves. If not, Dad can escalate with formal written complaints. Dad doesn’t believe in messing up anyone’s livelihood just because they’re being jerks.”

She bit her lip. “Problem is, Toby, we’re illegal. Dad has to be careful. If we were to have a public debate, many if not most people are going to agree with Tammy.”

“That I corrupted you?”

“It’s I who corrupted you, and no. That we’re an abomination.”

“I do understand the argument.”

“Wash my hair?”

“Even better.”

“How so?”

“I got the doctor’s report today.”

“Oh, I’ve been waiting a lifetime for this.” Pamala crawled, pushing me on my back, straddling me, her hands taking my cheeks, her mouth coming over mine, her tongue entered me.

 

Pamala kissed the top of my head, filled a plate with pancakes from the stove, taking the chair across from me. Tex, next to her, eyed the plate.

“What? I’m hungry.”

“You could have sat next to me.”

“As much as I want to grope you, I like watching you, too.”

“I like the way you look at me.”

Tex cleared this throat. “Toby was just telling me about Evil Tammy.”

“My gosh. Evil and crazy.”

“Her father is Hugo Flannagan.”

Tex looked from Pamala to me. “The preacher?”

We shook our heads.

“They’re way over the top with who’s going to hell and they’re not.”

I shrugged. “I have my own kink. I don’t judge.”

“You may think differently when they decide to protest you in front of your house.”

“No wonder she looked so upset when you gave me the heart.”

“Her problem with our relationship is her problem. Dad’ll get a leash on her.”

“I’ll talk to her – and my father. They need to hear some over the top preaching from me.”

“Sorry,” Pamala said.

“For?”

“Well, if I didn’t work in the mall, they’d not even be a speck on the horizon.”

“Please, don’t ever, that is ever, get anywhere near being sorry for anything related to me loving you, you loving me. They’re fucking wrong. We’re right.”

“Yeah. Dad said something similar.”

Tex worked up from his chair. “Just let me know, Toby. I’ve told you: I’m not done.”

“And I’ve told you: I don’t need your help.”

 

“I’m going to finish the plaster work today.”

“Good. We’re going to the hardware store. Get those window locks, deadbolts for the three doors. You can do that next.”

He stepped across the kitchen, watching the stairs. “Tammy could have an accident.”

I pursed my lips. “She could. I can actually see that in her future. Hold off for now. Since I’m not a child, I don’t want the first choice to be the worst choice.”

He glanced the stairs again, turning back to me. “I really like her. She’s one of the few women I’ve met who doesn’t want to fix everybody.”

“You think I need fixing?”

“Not the point, Toby.”

“I get what you’re saying.”

Pamala came down the steps, across the living room, entering the dinning room. “Are you two plotting a bank robbery or something?”

“Not at all,” I answered.

Tex nodded. “If I didn’t know better – Pamala, you are absolutely glowing this morning.”

She titled her head, blushing. “I got to do Toby last night.”

“Pam!” I blushed.

“Three times.”

 

Behind the wheel of her red Chevy II, Pamala said, “I presumptionated. Mom asked if we could please have dinner at the house tonight. I said sure.”

“I’ve stolen you.”

“Yeah, kind of. I’ll be back to school soon, between school and work.”

“I would have said sure, too.”

“You can stay over at the house anytime, you know.”

“I figured. Guest room?”

“No!”

“This is going to sound weird.”

“OK.”

“I kind of work for Bill Locke.”

“I’ve seen your pay envelope.”

“Kind of. What little paperwork I’ve seen, have copies of, I work for Hemingway Associates. Whoever they are, they own the house. My pay comes from them. One of my many tasks is to be in the house at night, so it doesn’t get vandalized.”

“OK.”

 “You saw the envelope. I get paid well to babysit.”

“What else?”

I shrugged. “Improvements to the property. Other tasks as they come up like say, help bury a body. Things like that.”

Pamala laughed.

“Since this began, around the time I was gang raped, most of my relationship with Bill Locke has been done with a wink and a nod. I do what I’m told, take fists full of cash, ask no questions.”

“You’re going to need to declare –”

“Though I get cash, the envelopes have a list of deductions. I’ve read a couple of bookkeeping and accounting college level books. I’m sure I’m not only going to get a W2, but a completed tax return to sign and file.

“Something’s not right, Pam. I have my suspicions. At this point, I don’t care. I need them as much as they need me. I was finishing-packing-my-backpack away from living down by the railroad tracks – literally – when this house dropped on me like in the Wizard of Oz.”

Pamala snickered. “You could of just said you’re more comfortable in your own bed and left it at that.” She pulled into a small parking lot. “Woodrow’s Hardware. Looks like the place.”

 

Eighteen window locks and three locksets later, I asked the woman – pleasant, in her thirties, light brown sugar hair in a loose ponytail, when Mr. Woodrow would be working.

“He’s had a stroke.”

“Is that bad?”

“It can be,” Pamala answered.

“The next few days will tell. Do you know him?”

“We had some good times over sash robe and elephants.”

“Elephants going to Florida?”

My eyes teared up, lips quivering in a smile. “Yeah.”

“We heard all about you over dinner.”

“He’s in the hospital?” Pamala asked.

“He is, Lorde’s. I doubt you can get in to see him if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“Nice to meet you, eh –”

“Teresia.”

“Teresia. Toby.” I motioned. “Pamala.”

 

Three tiers of concrete steps invited us into a cold building, tall red doors opening into a spacious white marble lobby with high ceiling.

“I feel like I’m in church.”

“It’s a Catholic hospital, Toby.”

Pamala comfortably strolled across the floor to a window. “Sister Rebecca! So nice to see you.”

The nun behind the window at the counter narrowed her eyes. “Pamala Edwards. Gosh, have you grown. Let me come around.”

Sister Rebecca disappeared.

“When I was twelve, I volunteered a summer here.”

The nun hurried from a door, wrapping Pamala up, swaying back and forth. Releasing, she kept Pamala’s hand. “What brings you back to the scene of the crime?”

“Benjamin Woodrow. A friend of ours.” Pamala indicated me with a nod.

“Hi,” Sister Rebecca greeted.

“Hello.”

“We’d like to visit, say a prayer, not long. I know how meaningful little things like this can mean to a recovery.”

“Oh, right you are! Right you are!” She looked around as if hatching a plot. “Room 304. You know the way and you know the rules.”

“I do.”

 

I felt like an interloper, an intruder. “Mrs. Woodrow,” I nodded to the woman in the chair, assuming.

“Hello, Toby. Nice to meet you. Janet.”

I blinked repeatedly.

“Teresia called the desk. Let me know you were coming.” She held her hand out.

I clutched the folded magazine to my chest. “May I read it?”

“I’m not sure he’ll hear you.”

“If he does, it’s good. If he doesn’t, then it doesn’t matter.”

I stepped to the bed. Mr. Woodrow appeared to be sleeping, resting. “I found the article, like I said.” I cleared my throat, then read aloud the story of the elephant graveyard – showing the unconscious man pictures – passing the magazine to Mrs. Woodrow. “In case he’d like to hear it again.”

She took my hand, looking up at me with sharp blue eyes much like Mr. Woodrow’s. “Thank you.”

I gave a final nod to Mr. Woodrow, backing into the hall, Pamala leaning on the wall, handkerchief to her face, almost ugly crying.

I wrapped around her.

“You are such a beautiful soul, a beautiful human being. I don’t deserve you. You don’t even really know that guy,” she sobbed.

“Mr. Woodrow was more kind to me than he had to be in the few moments we shared together. I don’t need to know him. I know that about him.

“As for not deserving me. Well, Pam, you make me want to be a better person. I can’t say that about anyone else, anywhere.”

“What’s going on here?” a too familiar whine assaulted me from behind.

“Nothing,” Pamala said. “I’m OK. Just a bit emotional today.”

“I wasn’t talking to you. Toby, did you come all the way down here just to embarrass me?”

I stepped away from Pam. “I thought you were working nights.”

“I’m filling it. Extra hours. The bills don’t pay themselves. Your father called. Filled me in on all your shenanigans.” 

“I’m sure not all my shenanigans,” I whipped at her because I simply can’t help myself.

“Your father should have worn a rubber, saved me from all the pain and heartache you’ve brought me. You’ve always been a snotty little cunt.”

My armor crumbled, me again a child of seven helpless in the face of abuse. My lip quivered, my eyes welled, forcing out tears. I fought to keep my feet. I fought to wrest back control.

Then, the back of Pamala’s head cut my mother from view. “You fucking asshole,” Pamala proclaimed, her right arm arching up, swinging a perfect downward roundhouse, slapping my mother across the cheek, sending my mother sprawling to the floor.

Janet Woodrow leaned on the doorjamb, leafing the magazine. “I bet that has been a long time coming.”

Hands on my knees, I sucked air into my lungs. “You have no idea.”

“You kids run along now. I’ll deal with that.”

 

I watched the windshield. “Sorry. I would have done better if I saw it coming.”

Pamala growled again, the extent of her communication for three miles.

“As a child, I dealt with her anger and aggression by shutting down, becoming invisible, retreating to the mindscape, to dance, to become Antoinette, something far greater than myself.”

“Now, Toby, I understand sanctuary, the mindscape, and Antoinette. It’s complex, all intertwined. It’s not a coat you wear. It’s your bones, the building blocks of who you are.”

“The wraith.”

“The wraith. I touch her, you know, there in the darkness right before the sun finds the day. That terrified child afraid to let the light on her face. She came out when you first shampooed my hair. I got glimpses of her over roast beef and fries in gravy. In the giggle carving the turkey, your hand in mine while reading Andersen. Cheeseburger at the Tower. Ballet, dancing naked with the snow.

“I did not know, I did not understand until I saw your façade ripped away so violently, lying bare your true persona – helpless, vulnerable, defenseless before that inhuman creature playing the role of your mother.”

She growled again.

“I should have sat on its chest and bounced its head on the floor until it was lifeless, back in hell where it belongs.”

“I love you, Pam. For real and true.”

“Ah, there she is.”

I curled up, my head on Pamala’s shoulder, helpless, vulnerable – safe within Pamala’s shelter – not some unreal place across the mindscape.

In my flesh.

 

We settled in around the table, Bob Edwards at the head to my right, Taylor at the foot to my left, Maria beside me to my left, Pamala across the table.

“Let me say grace?” Bob asked.

“Bob,” Taylor warned.

“Relax. Let’s all join hands.”

We did.

“Thank you, God for all your blessings and really, thank you for steering Toby into our lives.” Amen.”

Hands released, I smeared a tear on my cheek with my palm.

“It is nice to have our three daughters at the dinner table, Maria’s going back to school soon,” Taylor said.

I left the table with, “Excuse me,” hurrying off to the downstairs powder room, the Little Match Girl finally home.

Shortly, a tap came with, “Are you OK?”

I opened the door taking Pamala up in an all-consuming hug, my chin on her shoulder, face in her hair. “I can’t contain all this happy. It’s leaking out my eyes.”

We returned to the table, sitting, Maria took my hand. “We’re really happy you’re here.”

“Thanks.” I forked a bit of beef and a carrot. “This is really great stew.”

“I like to make fries, add it to the leftovers for a midnight snack.”

“Making note.”

“Oh, I met Toby’s mother today.”

“Pamala,” I warned.

“I hope that went better than the latest encounter with her father,” Taylor said.

“It didn’t. For her.”

“How so?” Her father sat back, watching.

“I wish you wouldn’t,” I pleaded.

“Oh, Toby, it’s a great story. It’s got action, adventure, an evil villain, a fantastic hero.”

I rolled my eyes. “I do so love a good story.”

“Well,” she clocked the table, catching all the faces, “we were down Lorde’s –”

“What?” Taylor asked. “Why?”

“Oh, that’s another great story, had me crying at the end, having to do with window robe, elephants, and Florida.” She watched the ceiling, tapping a finger on her chin. “That crying at the end could explain my reaction to meeting Mom. I thought I couldn’t love Toby more, but there she was –”

Pamala waved at the air. “Florida elephants another time. Down the hospital, moments after Toby got her sainthood ticket punched, her mother comes out of nowhere. She’s got this white dress on like the one I wear to work the kitchen, minus the zipper front.

“In my opinion, hem up to my butt works because, you know, barely not a child. This woman – I realized an aide, like so many I worked under when I was twelve, all full of herself and her little, tiny –” right hand up inches from her face, Pamala pushed her thumb and index finger together, squinting, turning her head “– minute, microscopic bit of power.”

She clocked all the faces again. “Darn. That may have also been a factor in what happened next.”

“You never said you had a problem with the aides,” Taylor said.

Pamala shrugged. “I accepted where I was in pecking order. You told me the summer volunteer work would be a good learning experience for me. I accepted that.”

“If you had problems –”

Pamala shrugged with all the dismissive she could pack in her shoulders. “This woman comes out of the darkness, Toby and I in our own wonderful bubble of light like imps dancing on the morning lawn, Toby having just secured her place in Heaven at the right hand of God. She brought the anger with her, lunging venom at Toby with tone and verbiage. Obviously, Toby’s Dad had called her to fill her in on all the corruptionating going on.”

I offered my own shrug. “I merely suggested that he couldn’t have given her all the details.”

Bob snickered, Taylor put a hand to her mouth, and Maria took my hand again.

“Well, let me tell you kids and kittens. That set her off like the grand finale on the 4^th of July, exploding with nonsense as if Toby was Pandora in her mother’s life story. The words took physical form flying through the air like Paris’ arrow into Achilles heart – I know it was his heel so don’t bother.”

  Again, Pamala tapped her chin, watching the ceiling. “My memory is not as good as yours.”

I answered with a nod. “You’re doing fine.”

“Toby staggered a step back at your father should have worn a rubber.”

Maria’s hand tightened on mine.

Taylor gasped. “Her mother?”

“Then comes the you’ve brought nothing but heartache and pain to me life. I could feel Toby trying to stand strong against the shit storm. Paris’s arrow entered her heart with You’ve always been a snotty little cunt.

Bob’s fist came to the table. Maria squeezed my hand so hard it hurt, Taylor’s mouth moved without words.

Pamala took her father’s eyes. “Dad. I stepped between them, smacking her so hard – I called her – pardon my French – a fucking asshole – that’s French, right? – smacked her so hard her mother in Ohio felt it, sending her bouncing off the floor.”

“Pamala,” Bob said. “I am both disappointed and proud.”

“Bob!” Taylor said from across the table.

Bob winked at Pamala. “OK. I’m disappointed.”

“Me, too. I’ll visit it in confession this week.”

“Do leave out the colorful language.”

“I’ll trim it down to I slapped a woman. When asked why, I’ll explain she said some offense stuff to a child. I know how to read a room, Dad.”

“Has she always been like this?” Taylor asked me.

“She’s an angry drunk.”

“She was drunk?”

“My guess is she was hung over. She’s either drunk or hung over. I don’t know what Pam’s said. I don’t live with her.”

“We were told as much, not must more.”

“Right. Careful not to betray my confidence. I’m a house sitter. I live alone.” I looked at Bob. “My parents don’t know where I live. I think my father still thinks I live with my mother. I’m not sure my mother realizes I moved out, with her working night shift.”

I answered the unasked question. “Late October.”

“Horrifying and terrifying,” Bob said in a breathless whisper.

“You don’t know the half of it, Bob, what I have endured to sit here right now.”

“Toby,” Pamala warned.

“What?”

“Only if you feel the need to unburden yourself. You have nothing to prove to us. There’s nothing you need convince us of.”

“We love you, Toby,” Taylor said.

I smeared another tear across my cheek with a palm, Maria pulling me too her, kissing the side of my head.

 

After clearing the table, Taylor threatened to get Pamala. “Diana and I will do the dishes. Get out or I’ll have Pam knock you on your butt.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice.”

Of the two comfortable chairs cattycorner facing the fireplace, I sat on Pam’s lap, my arm over her shoulder. I addressed Bob in the other chair. “Confidence is a difficult thing.”

“As in betraying? It certainly is.”

“I need advice. When someone doesn’t say specifically –”

“I’d say the test would be Will the information do harm?”

“I do not know, for example, what the people in the house at the moment know about Bill’s quarterly parties.”

“It’s no secret.”

“I mean, that’s where we met. I make assumptions. One assumption would be not to mention to anyone I met you there, that it would betray a confidence, though no one said don’t say anything other than vague instructions from Mary.”

“I see.”

“I’m not a gossip. That helps in keeping confidences.”

“That would follow. Is that what you wanted to know?”

“It is not. I would like to have a discission concerning the kind of people who attend such a party. My first question is: Can we do that now, in front of the fire, or should we go someplace more private.”

Pam nodded, kissing me on the cheek.

“Here is fine. I have no secrets from the family. Well, I don’t talk about Rover.”

“Fido.”

“Right.”

I closed my eyes. “Those people –”

“We often call it the community as in people in the community. Just like any group of people, they come in many clines and colors – they’re a diverse lot, though it may look mostly like men who like to dress up as women, it’s the why that makes them diverse.”

“First question, straight up: Is it common for a forty something man to dress up in women’s clothes and makeup, wanting to look at a girl naked while jerking off?”

Pam held me tighter.

“Eh, um. Common? No. Never at the parties. Bill wouldn’t allow it.”

I pulled an eye muscle keeping my face unemotional.

“The greater mass of crossdressers keep it to themselves. The men at the party – it’s their only expression, maybe private moments at home when the house is empty.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Is masturbation always involved?”

“Always? No. Mostly? Sure, though for many people it’s not just a source of arousal. Peace, relaxation, escape from reality.”

“I can understand that.”

“Let me tell you this straight up: From my years of experience with the party, the vast majority of people are benevolent. That means –”

“I know what that means.”

“Of course, as in any group, you’re going to find some bad apples. Do I know this man who dresses up like a woman, watches you naked as he masturbates?”

“I will not betray his confidence.”

“OK.”

“Bob is a very pretty woman,” Taylor said, entering, sitting on the arm of the chair.

“Awl, I bet you say that to all the girls,” he answered.

Maria sat on the floor by the fire.

“Second question.”

“I’m sorry I missed the first!” Taylor said.

“No, you’re not,” Bob answered.

“I know a guy, a year older than me. He’s been sneaking around since a little kid, putting on his mother’s clothes, masturbating.”

“I don’t know how old you are,” Bob said.

“I don’t think you want to. Anyway, now he’s dressing up – he passes one hundred percent – dating a guy who doesn’t know he’s not a girl, hitchhiking, blowing guys for spending money, insisting all too often he’s not gay.”

“Whoa. That’s a lot of information. I didn’t even hear a question. A friend of yours?”

“I don’t have friends, so no. I’ve been to the library – there are no resources on the topic. Homosexuality is condemned as deviant that must be cured. Crossdressing is lumped in with sexual deviance.” I rolled my eyes. “Maybe I’m just doing my girl think wanting to fix this guy, but really. I want to help him understand it. To do that, I must first understand it.

 “One magazine article I read – popular magazine – said there’s been so little research done on crossdressing because it’s mostly secretive and generally benevolent.”

I let out a deep sigh. “I don’t even know what my question is. Should I maybe somehow introduce him to the community?”

“How old did you say he was?”

“He’s sixteen.”

Bob jumped to his feet, put a palm to his forehead, throwing is head back. “You’re fifteen? As in years not old?”

“I told you that you didn’t want to know.”

“You worked on the floor –”

“As Bill’s employee, not yours.”

“Does that make a difference.”

“Risk and liability would be Bill’s, not ours,” Taylor answered.

Bob sat hard. “No. He’s a minor. From what you say, he’s out of control. Any adult who privately attempts to help him would be exposing himself to all sorts of liabilities. The only thing we could do under the cover of attempting to help him is make the government social network aware of him.”

I rolled my eyes. “Institutionalized. I read they’re fond of electroshock therapy.”

“Which makes that no solution.”

I nodded.

“What are you doing about school, dear,” taylor asked.

“I have my GED. Looking at community college in the fall.”

“Holy fuck,” Diana said. “When I was fifteen, I couldn’t manage to shower regularly.”

“Holy fuck, indeed.” Taylor said.

I worked up from Pamala’s lap, clocking the faces. “Horrifying and Terrifying.” I stopped, tethering Bob’s eyes. “Are we good?”

He hesitated.

“Bob. When I walk out that door, I need to know if we’re good. If we’re not good, my world is going to change in ways I can’t even imagine right now.”

He looked from me to Pamala.

“Dammit, Toby. We love you. I love you. We’ll always be good. Nothing changes.”

“Thank you.” Keeping his eyes, I said, “Taylor, it’s your turn. This time, though, I think we’ll have a private conversation.”

 

I circled the room, settling in behind a large oak desk. “God, I love the books. Have you read them all?”

“Mostly. I like to read.” Taylor sat on a cushioned chair to my left.

“For years, I had this odd hobby reading textbooks, mostly college.”

“Not a bad hobby. More interesting than collecting stamps.”

“Investment banker.”

“Yes. Only woman in the office of twenty, other than the secretaries, that is. I must work twice as hard just to stay even.” She winked. “Helps to be the smartest person in room, but I suspect you’ve already figured that out.”

I shrugged dismissively. “I’m not sure what an investment banker does. Pam says it has to do with money – a lot of money.”

“An investment banker –”

“I don’t mean to cut you short. I’m not looking for career advice. When I was eleven, I fell into a paper route. Given my delightful personality and dedication to customer service –”

“Bob said you’re an amazing worker.”

I shrugged. “I did embarrassingly well in tips. Knowing all the people on my route, with my delightful personality and dedication, I borrowed a lawnmower, mowing lawns all day most days.”

“OK.”

“I have been very frugal. I have a good sum of money stuffed in my mattress.”

“In your mattress?”

“Well, under my floorboards.”

“There are many good investments, depending on if you need access to the money long term or short term. What are we talking? A few hundred?”

I raised my eyebrow.

“Wait. A few thousand?”

I raised my eyebrow higher.

“Ten, twenty thousand?”

“Is this conversation confidential?”

“Well, I’m not a lawyer or a priest. I would never betray your confidence.”

I rolled my eyes. “I’m sitting on one hundred, eighteen thousand, three hundred, fifty-four dollars and change.”

Her eyes got big. “One hundred, eighteen thousand, three hundred, fifty-four dollars?”

“And change.”

“Delivering papers and mowing laws? Do I want to know?”

“You do not.”

She turned the chair, scanning the shelves. “Ah, here it is.” Opening the book, she said, “Chapter six through ten. I want this back. The only thing I can do for you is forget we had this conversation.”

“I understand.” Standing, I tucked my first law textbook under by arm.

 

Pamala examined herself in the mirror. “I like it, kind of. I really look so different. I couldn’t imagine doing it every day.”

“You have a perfect face. Makeup should be used to accent, not coverup.”

“When you have a perfect face. Like yours.”

“It is a lot of work.”

“I can imagine – so much time and energy spent on being something you’re not.”

I rolled my eyes.

“I love your basic little, eh tiny black dress.”

“I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“Oh, it fine – more than fine.”

“I never thought of going with a white sequin dress.”

“I was going to take up the hem a couple more inches.”

“Then it’d be a shirt, not a dress.”

She walked back from the full-length mirror, biting her lip. “Do you want me to lose weight?”

“I only wish I had your hips and thighs. Any hips and thighs. I can’t even keep my pants up.”

“Wasn’t the question, toby.”

“I absolutely love your body. I think you’re perfect. If you think you’d feel better about yourself losing weight, then do that. I’ve not said this, and this will be the only time. You are not fat. Just because you’re not spaghetti-thin doesn’t mean you’re fat. You look healthy.”

She nodded, watching the mirror. “I do get all that, Toby. When I stand alone, look at myself in mirror, I do agree with you.”

“People.”

“Yeah. That they-will-like-me-better-if stupid thinking.

“Not always terrible, Pam. They will like me better if I take a bath now and then. I like bath time. So not a problem.”

“I get all that. Sometimes – sometimes. Their collective voices come at me like your mother’s words at Lorde’s.”

“Pork chop.”

She cringed. “Yeah.”

“I was told recently I should have allowed the boys to gang rape me. That way, I’d be accepted into the cool kids’ club.”

 “Kind of ironic there’s nothing cool about the cool kids.”

 

Jack Remington arrived on time, standing next to the open door of the white Lincoln Town Car limousine. “Toby,” he greeted. “Pamala.”

We greeted him back, hurrying in.

“I think I already suggested a clutch,” he said, closing the door.

“Bite me. I like my suede bag.” Settling back, I told Pamala, “I hope I don’t turn into a pumpkin at midnight.”

“Not a problem. I love pumpkin pie.”

The intercom crackled. “You do understand you’re last on the list for a return ride?”

“Not a problem, Jack.”

“Could be as late as 4 AM.”

“Jack. Not a problem.”

“I’m surprised he didn’t tell us we should be wearing coats.”

“I’m not your father,” the intercom crackled.

“I just wanted to see if you were listening. It is almost an hour drive.”

“Forty-five minutes. Intercom off.”

 

I was hoping for snow, even rain, the temperatures in the mid-thirties, the air still.

“If I knew we had a two mile walk to the house, I’d have worn a coat,” Pamala said, climbing from the car. “I’m so not used to my boobs hanging out.” She glanced at me. “I know. You only wish you had that problem.”

I shrugged. “Jack. Drive safe.”

He took his dismissal, wished us a good evening, hurrying off.

I hooked Pamala’s arm. “I love me like you love me, Pam. I happen to adore my boobs.”

“So do I.”

“Your boobs look great on you, would look weird on me.”

“I kind of like them on your face, though. He lives here?”

“Right? It’d take an entire week just to run the vacuum.”

I assumed the go-right-in still applied, pushing the door open, following Pam in, the relatively small foyer breaking into the expansive room. Young people dress in matching white shirts, black pants, black shoes busied everywhere balanced on tall ladders hanging streamers, tying balloons, setting up small tables around the perimeter.

“Holy that-word.”

“I wonder if they rent out to parties. Maybe I’ll have your birthday here.”

“We don’t even know enough people to half-fill this room.”

“I figured just you and me.”

 Mary Locke from center room, chipboard, jeans, too-tight white tee shirt, sneakers, waved her hand in the air like signaling the orchestra brass to come in.

We approached, me acting excited to see her. “Mary Locke, may I present –”

Mary took Pamala’s hand. “Pamala Edwards.”

“Nice to meet you! Great place!”

Releasing the hand, she looked hard at me. “I heard you had a visit from Bill.”

“Sure. We had tea. Spoke of kings, sealing wax. Pontificated both science and religion the cause and meaning of rainbows. Argued the relatively of Camus. Spoiler – Camus is not relevant, doubt he ever was.”

She bit her lip with the impatience of a woman waiting for her dog to pee on a cold Sunday morning. “He has his, eh, things.”

“What kind of things, Mary? I like to dance naked back in the woods while the snow dances around me. Do you mean that kind of thing?”

Pamala shrugged, inviting herself into the conversation. “I’d never admit it, but I like to watch myself, naked, in the mirror and masturbate. That kind of thing?”

I glanced Pamala. “You do?”

“Topic never came up. I thought about us doing it together, but that would be creepy.”

“It would.”

“I have a party to ready. Toby. You are not required to do anything you are uncomfortable with.”

“I’d say that pretty much details my rules for life.”

Again, Mary signaled the orchestra brass to come in.

Hurrying over, Jessica said, “Miss Locke?” then to me, “Hi, Toby.”

“Jessica.”

“Our guests are much too early –”

“Jack’s fault.”

Mary rolled her eyes. “Have you had dinner?”

“We have not. We figured there’d be snacks.”

“Snacks,” Jessica scoffed. “Hors d’oeuvres.”

“Anything with bacon is good by me,” I said.

“I like the little hot dogs. Darn, now I’m hungry.”

“Kids, if you will. Jessica, will you show our guests to seven. A little dinner. Maybe you can get Pamala to regret the little hot dog comment.”

 

Pamala and I settled at a small table by a back window in the corner of a relatively small room.

“This tablecloth is actual silk.”

Pamala blushed. “Oh, just the thought of silk anymore. Do you really think Camus irrelevant?”

“I was going to ask about your masturbation habits.”

“Well, like I said, when alone with the mirror, I see me more with your eyes than Diane’s.” She rolled her eyes to the door. “She’s smoking hot.”

“She is.”

“This is the Jessica you finger banged in the linen closet?”

“Eh, no, I –”

“I was going to say I’m jealous.”

“Of her?”

“You.”

“This is the Jessica who banged me in the linen closet.”

“Now I jealous she had her fingers in you.”

“Well, almost not in me.”

“I’d still lick her fingers.”

“You have no idea where that hand’s been since. Bill told me she’s got a habit of doing that when working his parties. I was feeling special.”

“I’m so glad you don’t gossip.”

Jessica entered with a large tray, placing in on a nearby table. “I trust you’re not allergic to seafood.” She turned to us. “Pamala?”

“Yes, Pamala.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m Jessica. I’m sure Toby told you all about me.”

“Well, not all,” I answered.

“Love the dress, Toby. Oh, your legs were designed for fishnets. Your makeup is flawless. I’d guess you at my age.”

“That’s not the point and I’m not responsible for what people assume.”

“I did not mean it that way. Good choice, your hair flowing around you as opposed to up.” She turned to Pamala. “Absolutely love the dress. The crossover design is perfect for your cleavage. The hair, the makeup, the sandals. My god, girl, you are magnificent, beautiful, a force of nature.”

Pamala blushed the blush of blushes. “Thank you.”

“I have prepared for you both one of my many signature dishes. Shrimp and scallop scampi.”

“That happens to be one of my favorites, which I never get out.”

“I understand – such a simple dish, so easy to fuck up.”

“I’ve never had it, so you’re giving me another first.”

Plates slid on the table, Pamala’s eyes going big, Jessica stepping back, her arms across her chest, waiting. “Oh, I’m just going to make sure everything’s alright, then I’ll leave you alone.”

“My that-word-ing gosh, Jessica! This could be the best thing I’ve put in my mouth – ever!”  

“This is pretty good. Very good.”

“Thank you.”

“Sit, please.”

She looked toward the door. “Not long.”

“Sounds like Mary gave you to us.”

“Still, not long.” She sat.

“I have an envelope for you. The people you took such care of at Michelangelo’s.”

Jessica rolled her eyes. “Odd people, interlopers, putting on the ritz, really far out of their element. I don’t mean to badmouth your friends. Just stating facts.”

“First off, not my friends. Unlike most people, I don’t hand out the designation like Halloween candy. Second off, your evaluation is dead on correct. I should have never made the phone call. Looking back, I jumped at the chase to show off knowing someone famous.”

“Who?”

“You, Jessica. Though when Levy was groveling at my feet, Toni with her tongue hanging out, I didn’t brag that you finger banged me in the linen closet.”

“I don’t know which to scoff at more. Me being a famous person or me banging you being something to brag about.”

“Bill told me it’s what you do at his parties. That took a little shine off it, but of all the many women in the room, you chose me. That makes me feel special.”

“Do you two want to go to the linen closet and can I watch?” Pamala suggested.

“Oh, Toby, I like this one!”

“Me, too.”

“It was real, Toby, in the moment. If not for your age –”

“Fiancé.”

“That would be a stopper for me, too,” Pamala said.

“Speaking of Jake. He waits tables? You cook like this and he has you hosting?”

“Wait.” Pamala put her fork down. “The waiter you ripped the ticket in front of is your fiancé?”

Jessica gave me a hard look. “Obviously, you have a big mouth.”

I dismiss her, gesturing with both hands.

“It was Levy – or Toni, who told us about the ticket.”

Jessica deflated. “Yes. It’s a family thing – I told you. He came over from the old country to learn the business and marry me.”

“Let me give you a what-if just because I’m fantasy girl. Would you be willing to walk away from your family and everything you know, if you could open and run your own upscale restaurant?”

“My own restaurant? That could never happen.”

“Fantasy girl. Amuse me.”

“I don’t know who’d I be without my family.”

“I do. I saw glimpses of her on the floor out there, in the linen closet, and on your face when we tasted your scampi, in my mind when I saw you put the ticket in Jake’s face and rip it in half. I have this dark imagining if you play this out with Jake, he’s going to literally beat you to death.”

She closed her eyes, releasing a long sigh. “I think, fantasy girl, if I could be her, I would be her.”

 “Jessica!” snarled from the doorway. “We need you to get on the floor. Now!”

“Coming, Jake.”

As she stood, I took her hand and her eyes. “Jessica. Because moments have meaning, think about it, give fantasy girl a number.”

Jessica’s eyes softened and for the beat of a bee’s wing, I saw her, then the eyes hardened. She turned, hurrying off.

Pamala watched Jessica disappear. “I’m so jealous right now. At the same time, I’m glad you met someone who touched you so thoroughly and deeply. I live with people who do that every day. I’m just now realizing what a wonderful gift that is.”

“The few, with you at the top of the list. I think I’m so used to tagging sanctuaries, I tagged the linen closet. I mean I tagged the time in the linen closet with Jessica.”

“I’m so jealous. Do you want to?”

“Hit the linen closet with you, now?”

“I mean with Jessica. I think I’d be OK with that.”

“Sanctuary is something that goes on in the mind, not something of objective reality.”

“I actually get that.”

“Let me try this: I really do burn to meet Jessica in the linen closet, to feel her hand up my dress, in my underwear, but I want your head on my shoulder as I read quietly to you from a children’s book.

“I understand one is love, the other isn’t.”

“I do get all that, too.”

“Make no mistake, Pam. I want your hand up my dress, down my underwear, too. I can’t see Jessica’s head on my shoulder, me reading to her.”

Her lips curled a grin. “Tell me about your face in my wooly mammoth.”

 “This is really good. What’s it called?”

“Shrimp scampi. It’s the best I’ve ever had and I’ve had a lot. What was that fantasy girl all about?”

“I’ve saved up my nickels and dimes, have money to invest.”

“You take Tex into your garage, you read about elephants on a Florida vacation to an unconscious man, now to save a woman you barely know from getting killed by her boyfriend, you’re going to buy her a restaurant.”

“What’s your point?”

“I’m just making a list to take to Sister Carolina for when we put you up for sainthood.”

“I believe I’d have to be dead for that. I’m too far ahead of them for that to happen anytime soon.”

“Watch the hubris.”

“Oh, I’ll watch it like a middle-aged man watches my labia as he jerks off.”

“Yeah. I caught that. Bill Locke has his thing.”

“I didn’t betray a confidence if you figured it out.”

“That was the big thing Saturday, huh?”

“It was weird.”

“No kidding.”

“I mean, Bill’s one of those guys who likes to dress up, but he so hates the way he looks, he doesn’t want to dress up in front of anyone.”

“I can imagine that.”

“Well, being so helpful like I am, and seeing how it’s his house, I said he could come over, get dressed, relax.”

“His sanctuary.”

“Right? He was using a motel, rent a room for four hours.”

“And he has this big house?”

“Seems the people he lives with don’t approve. I didn’t ask. Anyway, Saturday. Everything’s fine. Billie is not a bad looking woman. Bill doesn’t like Billie isn’t a fifteen-year-old over budded child.”

“So, he spends a nice, relaxed day dressed up like a fifteen-year-old?”

“Actually no. He was dressed age appropriate. End of the day, he tells me to take my clothes off. I do for reasons I will not explain now. I hear a live band warming up. I’ve never seen a live band.”

“Sounds like a swing band. Not as good as scampi, but close.”

“He eye fucks me while he masturbates, rushes off to the shower, tells me I can wash his clothes, hang them in a closet, put them in a drawer.”

“Didn’t your Uncle Gropy do the same thing – without the pleasant conversation?”

I shrugged. “I caught my grandfather – Uncle Gropy’s father, watching me while he smacked his penis more than once.”

“Oh, those family traditions.”

Retrieving a tote from a cart in the hall, I loaded our dishes, replacing the tote.

 

The main room was filling up, mostly older people, all over dressed like us. I was relieved to see many dresses like mine, that I wouldn’t stand out. Jake appeared, offering an arm to Pamala. “I’ll show you to your table.”

She took the arm, me trailing.

Far side, away from the band, Jake removed the reserved plaque from the small table. “I’m sure you’ll find what you need.” Slight bow, he was off.

We sat, occupied tables lining the wall, lost in a sea of overlapping conversation, the band droning over top, a troupe of twelve milling in the center of the floor between us and the band, all women, older, built like Pamala rather than me, multicolored sequin dresses.

 The band paused, drawing attention. The drummer set a rhythm, I nodded, tapping my foot.

“Oh, I love this! Sing Sing Sing.” Pamala called, clapping along.

The horns came in, I joined Pamala, my hands following.

The troupe in the center of the floor caught the music in a synchronized dance.

Pamala stood, still clapping along. “Do you mind?” she asked, bending to me.

“Mind what?”

“Oh, I can do that. It’s just a variation of the Charleston.”

“Oh, go ahead!”

Pamala removed her shoes, working through the many people, coming alongside the troupe, catching my eye, then watching the dancers, nodding, joining in as if by magic. She didn’t manage perfect synchronization, still mesmerizing becoming part of a thing much greater than herself.

In that moment, I was so in love, so proud, so jealous. Pamala was that thing in the universe greater than me. In that moment, she invited me to join her. Against every layered fortification I’d erected to shelter myself from any possible harm, I left the safety of my chair, the safety of isolation, Ulysses untethered from the mast, the siren’s call undeniable. I slipped my sandals off.

Moving from the troupe, Pamala received me, taking my hands, stepping me back, pulling me forward. I even twirled twice. I could not match her footwork, which was OK.

Retuning to our table, my back to the crowd, I held Pamala’s hands, squelching a panic attack.

“What?” she asked.

“I don’t do well in crowds. People, you know.”

“Sorry.”

“Oh, I’m so glad you got me out there. You’re amazing. You didn’t tell me you danced.”

“I’ve been too busy enjoying your ballet to talk about myself.”

Pamala rolled her eyes.

I jumped, Bill Locke’s voice in my ear. “Having a good time.”

“Eh, yes Bill.”

“Pam.” Straightening, he nodded.

“Nice party, Mr. Locke. Thanks for having us.”

“My pleasure.” He returned to my ear. “Is everything OK?”

“Sure.”

“I mean with, you know.”

“I don’t know why people are so terrified of words. Yes, Bill. We’re good.”

“Maybe Saturday, then.”

“Let me know as soon as you know.”

As he faded away, I answered Pamala’s rolled eyes with a roll of my own.

“You going to be good with that?”

“If he hurts me, I’ll kill him. My only regret in life so far is not killing the people I knew would hurt me before they hurt me.”

“I kind of regret not bouncing your mother’s head off the floor – a few times. I can’t wait to meet your brother.”

“Ladies,” sang from above. “I couldn’t help but notice you guys on the dance floor, the two most beautiful women in the room.”

I released Pamala’s hands, turning, my elbow on the back of the chair, looking up into the Germanic square face, azure piercing eyes, transparent eyebrows blonde like his neat cut hair. In a fitted tuxedo, obviously not a rental, I thought he should click his heels and bow.

He smiled in an attempt to drown me in charisma.

I waved a hand over the table, packing as much dismissive, maybe arrogance, into my voice. “Could we get a couple of root beers here?”

“Huh?”

“You’re not wait stuff?”

He stood as erect as he could, looking down his nose. “Why, I’m Randell –”

“Cunningham,” I finished. “How’d you even get in here?”

“Well, if just so happens my father is a famous, important man!” He narrowed his eyes. “Obviously you know me, but I don’t know you.”

“A girl could be insulted. Don’t you remember all the girls you try to rape in the school restroom?”

He blinked repeatedly.

“Broke your nose? Left you crying like a baby on the floor?”

He scoffed, leaning toward me, his hands in fists.

Pamala jumped up, her chair falling over. They stared at each other.

A girl, head and a half under Randell, my height, took his upper arm. “What is it, Randy?” She narrowed her eyes at me. “Oh, hi, Toby.”

She had straw curly hair framing a round, pleasing face, deep brown eyes, her low-cut red felt dress to the knee, flats.

“Hey,” I greeted back. “English? The mall?” She was the maybe something worse should happen to Randell girl. Abused should have been stamped on her forehead, I assumed a gang rape victim.

 She pulled on Randell’s arm. “Oh, Randy. Don’t put her in the hospital again. Let’s go.”

I winked at Randell. “Nose looks good.”

He managed to get dragged away. I shrugged, sorry he didn’t take the bait. With the fire in her belly, I was sure Pamala could take Randell down without so much as spilling her root beer.

“Bounced of the sink?” she asked, hands coming to my waist from behind.

“Yeah, the football star. I’ve been wondering, with all their money, why Riversides?”

Her chin on my shoulder, she answered, “Doesn’t matter how good you are if you don’t have good grades. Blind guy driving by fast can see he’s a dull blade.”

“Even at that, there’s the SAT, other entrance exams.”

“I forgot. You’re looking toward the fall. His father will somehow buy access.”

I shrugged. “He comes at me again, I’ll snap his arm like a twig, he wouldn’t have to worry about it.”

“I see what you meant about handing your mother better if you had some warning.”

“I’m better with you. I think if you weren’t here, I’d left already. In a crowd, I have this constant fear there’s predators around. Now, the fear has a face, becomes more real.

“People, strangers, hurting me I’ve known as a reality, but only as an abstract. You know the monsters are real.”

We sat at our table, my back to the crowd, lost in Pamala, talking of everything sweet and good, harmlessly flirting, the final hours of the year drifting past.

“They’re playing our song,” Pamala said, standing, offering a hand, Moonlight Serenade caressing us.

“Oh, Pam, I never –”

“It’s easy.” She pulled me up, forearms to my shoulders. “Put your hands on my waist. Now, follow me.”

I was lost, her eyes, cinnamon, sugar cookie dough, her coy smile just for me. Time, the universe melted away. I was all things. I was no thing.

Pamala laughed, breaking the spell.

“What?” I became aware of people cheering.

“Happy new year. Happy new decade.”

On the edge of the crowd, on the edge of the universe, Pamala wrapped me up, her right hand on the small of my back, my neck resting in her elbow, my right arm around her neck, my left arm hanging loose, my right leg bent up as we kiss like no others have ever kissed in the whole history of kissing.

Soon after three geological ages passed by, Pamala, holding me close, breathlessly said, “Where’s this linen closet? I can’t wait until 4 AM.”

“Let’s make for the door. I have a car coming.”

“Oh, Toby, you are so far ahead of everyone.”

 

 

Part eleven