Margarette (Violet)

by Johi Jenkins

  She looks at him while he keeps playing his game with an I’m-jealous-of-your-nerdy-friend frown. So she grabs his wallet from his back pocket and steals a few bills. Zombies take advantage of his confusion and attack him as he distractedly watches her change the bills into coins. She pops the sucker in her mouth and drops a few tokens in his machine. Leaning seductively forward she grabs a gun and starts shooting monsters while sucking on her candy.

  Tommy puts his gun on the rack and walks up to her, takes her gun and puts it back as well, then puts a hand on her waist. Neither of them says a word. She grabs his arm and takes him into the only game that has a booth with a bench seat and a cover. He sits in there with her and the feel of a date returns.

  Paulie watches them from afar. The thought that they’re now living together consumes him, but seeing her flirt with Tommy aches a little more.

  Inside their booth Margarette puts her hand in Tommy’s lap as the game boots up and she squeezes his inner thigh. Ever since Paulie left they haven’t said a word to each other. She sees a pair of pliers enter the neck of the first victim. Hardly the romantic background, but nobody’s paying attention anyway. Her legs cross and she bumps him with her foot.

  “Sorry, Tommy,” Margarette says with a coy smile. “I didn’t mean to kick you.”

  “It’s okay.”

  “Tommy, what do you think of us?”

  “I think you’re beautiful and I’m the luckiest guy in the world.”

  Margarette doesn’t think that really answers the question but smiles at him anyway. She lets the sucker slide into her cheek and she softly bites the corner of her lower lip. When she looks up at him, he’s watching her with eyes clouded with desire.

  The curtain covers most of their private game. Her hand at his thigh moves to his crotch. She really doesn’t mind teasing him. It is like the game, kind of fun, but not really fun. Fiddling with Tommy isn’t much of a challenge. He kisses her and grabs her chest. The arcade music thumps and they can hear people walk past.

  “You taste like bubblegum,” he says as he kisses her and their lips part. He squeezes her breasts like kneading bread.

  After a few more minutes, or possibly only seconds, he pulls her out of there takes her home. She dresses up in a school outfit with her old reading glasses. That’s when she realizes she needs glasses.

  Tommy takes several Polaroid pictures of her in her outfit, and she even lets him take a couple with just her underwear on. After sex she watches him fall asleep petting his hair. Margarette holds him and he unconsciously sucks his thumb after falling asleep. She will later regret not stealing the pictures as he slept.

  Chapter 16. The Foundling Wheel

  Margarette’s life has become a rollercoaster of shitty days and wonderful sex. Tommy tries his best to please her, but he doesn’t always get her to orgasm from sheer penetration. He’s not bad, though, and often makes her come with his tongue. He has great rhythm and pace. Don’t start something you wouldn’t finish, Tommy usually says, although it is obvious, out of context, that his father said it to him first.

  He never seems to start to do anything that later he would need to complete. At his core, Tommy is afraid of not finishing. Margarette knows he wouldn’t try to change. It is not like she wants to really change him, but he isn’t going out of his way to do anything.

  He isn’t great at keeping his family at bay, either. He never calls them, so they constantly call looking for him. It becomes something she has to be ready for. During work, his father calls twice a day looking for him. Tommy knows when to skip the calls just often enough to keep his father confused. He could pretend he was out running an errand for the bank, but in truth Mr. Gallager never expects his son to do any real work during the day.

  Tommy’s mother makes an appearance at the bank every Thursday. During one such visit on Margarette’s fourth week at work, Tommy is not in and she ends up harassing Margarette. Between lines chock full of double meaning she lets slip that she was the real reason Tommy was forced to move out of the Gallager house and into the small blue one. The revelation is delivered in veiled snide comments as it is her trademark, lying through her teeth. It’s what he needed… So many expectations for him… What’s best for everyone… We are so excited for you both….

  After she leaves, Margarette considers that this is what is in store for her for the rest of her life, or until the end of Mrs. Gallager’s life, whichever comes first.

  She mutters to herself. “Lord forbid….”

  She is so sick and tired of her life. She has been pregnant for eight weeks—she is ten weeks pregnant according to Dr. Johnny—and she feels completely detached from the innocent baby growing inside her. She is detached from life itself. It makes her nervous, like she’s going to be a terrible mother. Dr. Johnny has told her that it’s not uncommon for young new mothers to feel that way and reassures her that she will feel different at her twelve weeks appointment. He will perform an ultrasound then, and she will be able to see her baby move. After Mrs. Gallager’s visit Margarette doesn’t know whether to feel more excited or more forlorn about the appointment.

  It has become painful to think about her life. Her belly has started to bloat and she has cramps at nights. She stays up late, unable to sleep, and zones out at work, tired all the time. Her body reminds her that she is pregnant, when all she would like to do is forget. Pretend that she is not….

  She thinks about how life would be if she wasn’t pregnant. She would definitely not be associated with Tommy and his family. She imagines a guy like Simon from the book. He would be exactly as the book described… perfect, enduring and flawless.

  “Simon,” Margarette whispers his name during a particularly lengthy daydream, and the person next to her jumps. She realizes she’s in the break room at work. She blinks and she’s home with Tommy on top of her. She fights to not say Simon again and tries to focus.

  Her feelings for the fictitious character have developed into an almost physical yearning. She thinks about him for hours. What her life would be like if he existed and he saved her from this life, and they escaped together. She already knows what their house would look like and what city it would be in. In the margins of her work papers she draws his face. She can draw it without thinking, and it makes her smile when she works out another detail of their imaginary relationship. She isn’t sleeping much and her imagination takes over because her life isn’t enough—her future is underwhelming.

  One day at the office, after a particularly vivid daydream, Margarette abuses her account managing privileges. She has been at the job for four weeks and knows her way around the computers. The new owners brought a modem out and connected the computers to the large bank’s network. Everyone is expected to learn how to use the computers, but they have taken their time learning. Margarette doesn’t mind showing her coworkers how. She does that now, gaining some approvals from the ladies.

  When the ladies go out for the four o’clock smoke break, Margarette prints off a few dozen pages of account owners. Specifically those connected to the author of her favorite book.

  ***

  The Gallager mansion looks amazing on a summer day, Margarette has to admit, despite her views of the people inside. Unfortunately May is there next to her.

  “It must be easy for you,” May says, reminding Margarette why she hates the older girl. She is always sweet and cute before she bites. “You’re pretty.”

  “I’m not and it hasn’t,” Margarette says.

  “You’re probably right.”

  Margarette mumbles, “Fricking bitch.”

  May showed up a little while ago channeling Audrey Hepburn in a summer dress, and a short new haircut. Her dark brown hair is cut in a perfect bob that makes her look like a Romulan woman from Star Trek. Margarette has to talk to May and her husband for five boring minutes.

  It’s Saturday afternoon and Margarette is far too uncomfortable in her soft white dress and high heels. At least the dress is tight under the bust and l
oose around her waist, which suits her expanding belly just fine. Margarette is finally excited for her appointment in two days, when she will get her first glimpse at the little thing inside her. But before she does, she first has to survive another awful party at the Gallagers’.

  After a while Margarette gets the hang of the fake smile and fancy dress, so she doesn’t mind trying it out on unsuspecting victims. She looks beautiful, perfectly fitting Tommy’s birthday party. Tommy already paraded her in front of his friends and relatives and they all congratulated him. He is having a good time and so was she, with an arm looped through his, until she had to excuse herself. Her belly was bothering her. Now she sits by the refreshments table with a napkin on her lap and politely listens to everyone around her.

  May’s voice drifts from afar, “Well, it’s too bad she’s so pretty. You know those people have it so rough. Oh, and the poverty. I can imagine how difficult that could be….” Margarette struggles to hear over the din. A laugh. And then she hears, “Trash does not compete with class.”

  Margarette turns her head in Tommy’s direction, fully intending to run to him despite the increasing cramps, but she hears him say, “… She really twists my dick…” from across the room. She fights not to say anything now since she didn’t hear the whole thing, and it may have sounded worse out of context, but she commits it to memory.

  Her nightmare continues as she shakes her head and shuts her eyes. Her stomach is tight like a wet knot and she wants to go home. She smiles when she thinks about reading her book all alone at home in her comfortable chair. Not Tommy’s illegitimate home away from home, or her mother’s, but her fantasy home with Simon.

  Ding ding ding.

  Three dings on a crystal glass; just before the cake is served May stands up smiling.

  “We have some news and I couldn’t think of a better present for Tommy,” May announces. “I’m pregnant! You’re going to be an uncle!” There’s a rush of congratulatory voices.

  Poor Tommy mutters congratulations but later sits in the corner as May steals everyone’s attention with her baby news. She had planned this; Margarette knows this was planned. Damn Gallagers; it’s in their veins. Tommy would have loved to hear about his sister on any other day; but today, his day, is now her day.

  Margarette gets caught squinting at May from afar and stands to serve herself punch from a silver bowl. She wants to punch May more now than before, she thinks, as she vaguely wonders at what point Kool-Aid becomes punch. She looks around as if she would find some serving container size chart that explains the difference. You put it in a spout and it’s one; serve it in a silver bowl with a big spoon and it’s the other.

  A random old lady approaches Margarette at the punch bowl interrupting her rambling thoughts.

  “Oh, this is great,” says the old lady.

  Margarette dons her newly-mastered fake smile. “It’s tropical,” she says.

  The woman almost sneers with a downward glance at the bowl.

  She’s now stuck on the tropical punch dilemma or going back to hating May. Then a sharp pain pierces through her abdomen and the room wiggles. Someone put something in the punch, is her first thought. Or Kool-Aid, whatever you call it.

  She loses her balance and steps back from the table to put a hand against a wall. Then with the pain gripping her, she feels something warm and liquid between her thighs and looks around for a bathroom thinking a stain on her white dress would be too much red to hide. She stumbles back to her chair, but before she can reach it she goes to both knees and something blurs, then she’s on the floor. The world goes quiet for Margarette even though a woman shrieks and calls out for help.

  Red pain shoots through her belly and her vision fills with blood. But it isn’t really her blood.

  ***

  Tommy brings over red roses with a card full of lines that probably mean nice things but she doesn’t care to read.

  Roses can prick and you bleed.

  Roses must be handled carefully indeed.

  Margarette was rushed to the hospital but it was too late. The baby wasn’t ready for life at ten weeks and chose to make room for a chance at another child later on. Margarette’s mother said, “The Lord fulfills only promises that are earned.” Margarette didn’t know what that meant, but it sounded hurtful at the time.

  Margarette’s mother told everyone at church on Sunday and they all pitied her for her lost grandchild. Apparently all of her church friends were experts on the ways of the Lord and his plans for the lost girl that had sinned. Margarette’s mother came to the hospital fresh full of Bible lines. Now all Margarette can get from her were verses, versus original thoughts.

  Her only comfort is that she probably took the attention off May for a bit at the party. To Margarette’s surprise, no one knew about the child. She only told her mother, her cousin and the Gallagers. But they all know now.

  There is a funeral with only five people present: Margarette, Tommy, his parents and the doctor. The doctor doesn’t stay long. Mrs. Gallager sits next to Tommy with her arm draped possessively around his shoulders, as if claiming back what was hers. At some point she leads Tommy out of the room with offers of warm drinks, all motherly and nourishing. Tommy at least has the decency to ask Margarette if she would like something to drink, which she stoically refuses. She wants nothing from Mrs. Gallager.

  The minute they leave, Mr. Gallager approaches Margarette and takes her hand. In a kind and sympathetic voice he suggests that maybe now she can move on. It sounds like he’s trying to console her but it comes out cruel. Margarette almost hears Mrs. Gallager’s voice coming out of his mouth, her words repeated in one fragment of his speech. He goes on to say that she and Tommy are far too young to have to carry the arduous responsibility of raising a child and this may be a blessing in disguise. That Tommy is too juvenile to fully understand the way the world works. But he insists that a beautiful girl like her would never have a want for admirers—and immediately after tells her that she can keep her job at the bank as his personal assistant, that he would miss her if she left.

  Throughout his discourse, his hand on Margarette’s felt warmer and warmer. At the end she feels the softest pressure on her hand, so faint that she isn’t sure it wasn’t her imagination. She removes her hand from under his and stands up, slightly repulsed, but keeping a straight face. She thanks him for the service in an effort to not sound ungrateful.

  He stands up and hugs her for a little too long for her taste. She pulls away and leaves without another word. She can’t stomach another minute with the Gallagers, not even Tommy. Margarette is determined to leave them in her past even if she has to break Tommy’s heart. She won’t even go back to his house. Except—

  She finds the nearest phone and dials her one remaining friend and accomplice, her cousin.

  “Kristen? It’s me, Margarette. I need you to steal your dad’s car and pick me up.”

  Chapter 17. Burning

  Margarette watches from her darkened bedroom window as Tommy finally gives up and drives away. It is his daily ritual. But, she notices, today he gave up after only two minutes. At first he stayed on her porch for up to half an hour, in a combination of ringing the doorbell, knocking on the door, shouting, sitting down, and at one point even what looked to be crying. He knew she was inside, he yelled, because he could see her light was on. After that time she turned out the light and never bothered to turn it on again once it got dark. She now reads at her desk with her curtains drawn. To avoid Tommy she considered not reading at all after dark, but she quickly found she couldn’t do it. Her book is her savior. It is what keeps her sane, if only sane in a fantasy world.

  After her talk with his father at the funeral she wanted nothing to do with the Gallagers, and for a second she entertained the idea that she wouldn’t even ask Tommy to take her to his house so that she could pick up her clothes. She was willing to leave everything in his house—until she remembered the book. With the help of her cousin she was able to retrieve it
.

  Margarette had almost left with just the book but her cousin, curious about the little house she had never set a foot in, had gone investigating and discovered her closet; she insisted that Margarette couldn’t leave behind all those expensive clothes. Designer dresses, underwear and shoes all were stuffed in trash bags, and as the car pulled away Margarette felt she made out like a bandit in a quick getaway.

  And then she was back in her house, alone as she had always been before. It was the day of her lost child’s funeral and her mother was not home. She almost broke down and cried then. She should have, but she just lay on her bed and instead contemplated an alternate reality where none of this happened. An hour later Tommy showed up and then she did cry. But she refused to see him.

  Nothing real means anything to her anymore, so she reverts to her imaginary life where there is no pain. She quickly gets stuck in a loop of waking pain and immediately plummeting into her fantasy. Nothing changes until she runs out of provisions at home and has to walk to the convenience store. It is there an article in the newspaper catches her eye.

  The book. Her book. It is being made into a movie. She grasps the paper with shaking hands. The article is about the relatively unknown actor who has been cast to play Simon. Margarette looks at him and feels hours pass by and she is still staring. He is beautiful. He is perfect.

  It is more than an obsession now. What was just a fledgling of a thought congeals into an actual plan in her mind, and a week later the papers with personal information that she stole from the bank are covered with notes. She has researched a trip, making cryptic calculations on scraps of paper. Motel weekly rates; classifieds with a few circled ads; even college admissions office numbers. She has thought through it all. How much money would it take to take a bus, train, car or horse? Where would she stay when she was there? How could she even survive alone?