This Other Eden

by Michael Hemmingson

  You get skilled at this sort of thing when you've been broke all your life. I'd been poor going on thirty-five years. It’s a condition you slowly learn to embrace and accept.

  I was sitting there in my car, smoking and drinking and dreading the idea of going inside the store because I would have to interact with people. I was feeling anti-social because I was feeling like shit. The only money I had in the world was $40 my girlfriend made working her ass off and I was a lazy bum who spent most of his time drinking and smoking.

  Someone knocked on my window; a man in a long dark wool jacket, holding two grocery bags. He looked familiar.

  ""Paul?"" he said.

  ""Hey,"" he said, ""Paul Augustine, it is you.""

  I rolled down the window and let the smoke out.

  ""Jeff,"" I said.

  ""I thought that was you,"" he said. ""What are you doing here?""

  I said, ""Eggs, milk, apples, hamburger meat.""

  ""I know what you mean,"" he said.

  I got out of the car and shook Jeff's hand. He was two inches taller than me. I never liked standing next to people who are taller than me. It was cold out. Jeff was smart to wear that wool jacket.

  ""Actually,"" Jeff said, ""I was thinking of going over to the bar and having a couple of beers before heading home."" He nodded his head at the small dive bar across the street.

  ""I'm in no real hurry to go home,"" he said.

  ""Home is where the home is,"" I said.

  ""I like that, it's profound,"" Jeff said. ""Hey, wanna join me? I'll buy you a beer and we can catch up.""

  ""If you're buying, I'm sittin' and listenin'.""

  ***

  There were four people in the bar. Jeff and I were two of them, the bartender was the third, and a skinny woman in her fifties was the fourth. She was drinking white Russians and playing with the ice cubes like they were the most fascinating ice cubes in the whole universe.

  Jeff bought a pitcher of something on draft. I wasn't picky about beer; free is good.

  ""So tell me what's new,"" he said.

  I said, ""Same ol'.""

  He nodded. ""I know the same ol'.""

  ""You're still married to…""

  ""Lisa.""

  ""Lisa.""

  ""Yes.""

  ""That's nice.""

  ""It's not nice.""

  ""I'm sorry,"" I said.

  ""It's marriage,"" he said. ""We'll live.""

  ""A toast!"" I said. We toasted to marriage.

  ""And you,"" Jeff said, ""the last time I saw you, you were with Rachel.""

  ""Rachel left for Alaska.""

  ""Why Alaska?""

  ""That's what I asked. She wanted to get as far away from Santa Cruz as possible. And me. I'm living with a woman named Karin.""

  ""Karin?""

  ""You don't know her. She's from Albuquerque. She came out here with her husband, her ex-husband. He's a grad student at the university. Cultural anthropology, can you believe that? Something about Indians around here and ethnographies. She lives with me. Or I live with her.""

  ""You live together,"" Jeff said.

  ""That we do,"" I said.

  ""Still writing?"" he asked.

  ""I scribble.""

  ""Poetry? Short stories?""

  ""This and that. I've been writing plays the past two years.""

  ""Theater!""

  ""One gets produced now and then.""

  ""In New York? L.A.?""

  ""Here. Small theaters. Black boxes with forty seats.""

  ""Well, that's something,"" he said. He nodded and drank his beer.

  ""Isn't that something,"" he said.

  ""It is something,"" I said.

  We drank and drank. We were on a third pitcher within the hour. Jeff couldn't handle beer the way I could. He was getting trashed; I was getting warmed up.

  There was something I needed to get off my chest. I didn't realize it until that moment. I needed to tell someone. I have found that when you require another person to confess your sins to, it's better if they are drunk because they won't remember what you told them.

  ""I love Karin,"" I said, ""I adore her, but I've been cheating on her.""

  ""You have something on the side?""

  ""In a manner of speaking.""

  ""How long has this been going on?""

  ""Three months now,"" I said. ""The thing is this other woman, she's a married woman. She has a husband.""

  ""So you're the other man,"" Jeff said, ""and she's having an affair.""

  ""It would seem to be that way.""

  ""And your girlfriend, she has no idea?""

  ""If she did, she wouldn't be my girlfriend,"" I said.

  ""This sounds complicated.""

  ""Sometimes it feels complicated.""

  ""Who is this married woman?"" he asked.

  ""I was teaching a poetry workshop at the adult center,"" I said. ""A volunteer thing. I've published a few poems in literary journals so I guess they thought I could teach it. I had seven students. She was one of them.""

  ""Sleeping with a student,"" Jeff said. ""Is that…, is that ethical?""

  ""Is sleeping with a married woman?""

  We were on our fourth pitcher. Jeff was slurring and could barely stand. I was feeling fuzzy.

  ""Speaking of married women,"" he said, ""I crossed paths with Jennifer Crane.""

  The name was like a washabi sword in my chest.

  ""Jennifer.""

  ""You remember her?""

  ""Of course I do.""

  ""Yeah, yeah, you dated her for a while.""

  ""For a year,"" I said, very softly and into my beer.

  ""She looked good. She looked happy.""

  ""That's it?""

  ""She said she just got married.""

  ""Good for her.""

  ""She asked about you. She did. She asked: 'How is Paul? Have you talked to Paul lately?' I told her I hadn't seen you in years.""

  ""So she looked happy?""

  ""She seemed happy,"" Jeff said, ""you know, happily married. You know, I always wanted to sleep with her. Hope you don't mind. She's pretty. What happened between you two?""

  ""This and that,"" I said. I thought about her smile. I thought about the miscarriage and the life we could have had.

  ***

  I helped him across the street to his car. The grocery store was closed. It was a lot colder out and I just wanted to go home and get into bed with Karin and feel her warm body next to mine.

  ""You can't drive,"" I told him. ""Want me to take you home?""

  ""Nah,"" he said, ""I'll sleep it off in the car.""

  ""You sure?"" I said.

  ""No prob,"" he said.

  I helped him into the driver's side. He slouched over and was out. He snored. He had a grin on his face. I noticed the two grocery bags in the back. What I was thinking, what I was going to do, it made me feel just awful, but I was awful, so I did it. I opened the back door, grabbed his bags, put them in my car, and went back home to Karin.

  It was late. We'd been in that bar for hours. I watched the cloud of cold breath coming out of my mouth and the effect was hypnotic. I walked into the apartment and it was dark and quiet. Karin was in bed and she was asleep. I put the groceries away in the kitchen. Jeff had bought almost the same stuff I would've bought. In my head, I calculated that it was probably $32 worth. I still had the $40. Sometimes you get lucky. I knew I was a shit because I felt absolutely no guilt. I thought about Jennifer again and the lost baby and traced back all the events of the past six years that brought me to the life I was living.

  I took a piss and went to bed with Karin and snuggled with her. She made a soft sound. I kissed her and she turned and kissed me and then we made love for half an hour and she went back to sleep and I held her, my eyes open, staring at the clock, watching the hours go by until morning. She had to wake up and go to work and earn money for the both of us.

  II.

  Karin was naked and drying herself off, fresh fro
m the shower and getting ready for her day. I was still in bed and all I could do was stare at her wet pubic hair.

  ""You were gone for a long time last night,"" she said. She looked at herself in the mirror on the back of the bedroom door.

  ""You had beer on your breath when you fucked me,"" she said.

  ""You didn't seem to mind,"" I said.

  ""Where did you get money for beer?""

  ""$32 of groceries, I had a little left over.""

  ""So you spent it on beer?"?" She turned around and gave me one of those looks that can make a man feel three feet tall.

  ""Are you going to give me a hard time?""

  She said, ""Are you going to look for a job today?""

  ""You know I will, you know that I am,"" I said. ""Why do you doubt my integrity?""

  She shook her head and then she shook a fist at me.

  ""I never doubted your integrity,"" she said. ""I just wonder if you realize how serious our situation is.""

  ""I know; I realize.""

  ""I understand you're depressed,"" she said.

  ""I'm not,"" I said.

  ""Getting a job, being busy with a job, two jobs, well,"" she said, ""you'll feel better about things. Most people do.""

  I watched her put on a pair of panties, and then a bra, and then a pair of faded jeans, and then a t-shirt, and then a sweater.

  ""Well,"" she said, ""I'm off to clean houses and predict futures.""

  Karin had two part time jobs: from eight in the morning until two p.m., she worked for a cleaning service, going from house to house all over town, mostly weekly regulars; then she had two hours to herself, when she could get lunch and run errands, and from four to eight p.m. she worked at a phone psychic hot line. She was good with the Tarot cards and the runes. She would do either job full time but she liked the two hours off in between. She couldn't see herself sitting behind a phone eight hours a day, or cleaning for nine.

  She gave me a kiss on the nose and I slapped her ass when she turned. She let out a small yelp.

  She left and I went back to sleep.

  ***

  Around noon I went to a bar several blocks away and looked at the classified section of the paper. It was two pages long and most of the available jobs were warehouse work, housecleaning, and landscaping. I saw an ad that said: ""Are you intuitive? Can you predict the future? Psychic hotline needs phone counselors, hourly, paid weekly.""

  It was the same place Karin worked.

  After my third vodka tonic, I started to feel guilty. I didn't like the way that feeling sat in my gut. I had $30 left and I had lied to my girlfriend. I had allowed an old acquaintance to buy me beer and then I stole from him.

  ""Another?"" asked Bill, the bartender.

  ""Why not,"" I said, ""I'm just a shit.""

  ""What's that?""

  ""I'm an asshole, Bill, a real shitheel.""

  He placed a fresh vodka tonic in front of me. ""We all are. It's just the way it is. This one is on the house, asshole.""

  I decided I had to make amends and come clean.

  ""Hey,"" I said.

  ""What, shitheel?""

  ""You got the White Pages here?""

  ""Do maggots like dead bodies?""

  ***

  I didn't know or remember where Jeff lived. I found an address for Jeff and Lisa Bonfils about three miles away. I drove over there. It was 1:30 in the afternoon. I wasn't sure what I was going to do. Maybe I'd leave the $30 in the mailbox.

  Someone was home. The door was open and the screen door locked. I could hear soft jazz playing on a radio and I could smell someone cooking tamales or tacos or something Mexican.

  I rang the doorbell. A tall, slender woman with dark skin came to the door.

  ""Lisa?"" I said.

  ""Yes?"" she said. She looked at me with nervous suspicion. She wore jeans and a halter and an apron. She was holding a towel.

  ""Do I know you?"" she said.

  ""Paul Augustine,"" I said.

  ""Oh yes. You're friends with my husband. Right? We're met before.""

  ""Yeah, Jeff. Is he around?""

  ""No.""

  ""Is he at work?""

  ""No.""

  ""Will he be back soon?""

  ""No,"" she said.

  ""Listen,"" I said.

  ""What is it that you want?"" She started to cry. ""What…""

  We stared at each other.

  ""Are you okay?"" I asked.

  She unlocked the screen door, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. ""Sorry. I don't mean to be rude. Come in. Please.""

  I hesitated. I walked in. The smell of the food was strong and it reminded me that I was hungry.

  ""I don't know where Jeff is,"" she said. ""He went out last night and never came home. He was only supposed to be gone for half an hour. We were going to watch our favorite show. But he never came home. I don't know what to do. I called everyone we know. He didn't show up at work. I called family. Maybe something happened and he had to take care of it. No one has heard from him. I called the police but they said they couldn't do anything until after twenty-four hours. You know what the cop said to me on the phone? He said: 'Does your husband have a mistress?' Can you believe that? Jeff does not have - —he does not have one of those. He is not that type of man. If he was, if he - —if he was, he would be. Oh. I don't know what to do. Do you know where he is? Is that why you're here? Did he send you here to give me a message?""

  She was a wreck. I was about to tell her I saw him last night, he got drunk, he passed out, but I knew that would open a floodgate of questions and she'd probably blame me for Jeff's drinking.

  ""No,"" I said to her, ""I haven't seen him in a while, a long time, that's why I came over. I mean, I was in the neighborhood, I'm starting a new job near here, so I thought I'd drop by and say hello.""

  She stared at the floor. ""I see. Well, he's gone missing. I couldn't go to work. I've been here all day going crazy and the only thing I can do to keep my mind off things is cook. I'm sorry…can I offer you something to drink? Water, soda? Milk? Beer?""

  ""No thank you.""

  ""Would you like some lunch? I have a lot of food.""

  ""No thank you, that's very kind,"" I said, ""but I have to go, I'm starting a new job. I don't want to be late. I'm sorry to hear about Jeff. But look, there has to be a perfectly good explanation. He'll come back home, I'm sure of it.""

  ""He better.""

  ""It'll be okay.""

  ""Paul?""

  ""Yeah.""

  She rushed toward me. She grabbed me and hugged me. She cried into my chest.

  ""Just hold me for a moment,"" she said.

  So I held her. What was I going to do?

  I touched her neck, her hair. ""It'll be okay."" My cock started to get hard and that was not a good thing.

  ""Tell me he's coming back home.""

  ""He's coming back home.""

  ""Tell me again that everything will be perfectly fine and I don't need to worry.""

  ""Everything will work out,"" I said. I wanted to hit myself in the face.

  ""Everything will be all right,"" I said.

  She said, ""Do you promise?""

  ""Promise,"" I said. ""Pinky promise.""

  She let go of me, wiped her eyes. ""Thank you,"" she said.

  ***

  I stopped off at the first bar and had a double shot of tequila and a beer chaser. The place was a stripper joint. There was one sad-looking girl on stage; she looked half asleep and didn't put much effort into shaking her skinny ass and tiny breasts. Another girl sat by the stage, sipping from a Seven-Up can. There were three customers in the place, and I made the fourth,

  I thought about Jeff and wondered what the hell happened and if it was my fault. I thought about Jennifer and the life I could have had. I thought about Karin and how terrified I was of losing her. I wanted to see her immediately. I had to.

  ***

  It was 3:00 when I got to the building where the phone psychics wo
rked. I sat in the car and waited. I would see her before she started her shift. I would hug her and kiss her and tell her how much I loved her and how I wanted everything to work out and how it would work out and how everything about our relationship would be okay.

  I waited an hour. I waited until 4:30. Her car didn't pull into the parking lot. I waited until 4:45. Maybe she parked somewhere else. I got out and went into the building.

  There was a receptionist at the front of their office suite: COSMIC ADULT ENTERTAINMENT. Karin had told me the office was divided into three sections: the psychic phone line, the straight sex phone line, the gay sex phone line.

  The receptionist was a plump redhead with large hair and large blue eyes. She was filing her nails.

  ""Can I help you?""

  ""Is Karin in?""

  ""Who?""

  ""Karin Wilson.""

  ""Oh. Karin. No. She called in sick.""

  ""She did?""

  ""This morning. Why do you ask?""

  ""Oh, well,"" I said, ""she told me you were hiring.""

  ""We are. You want to apply?""

  ""I need a job.""

  She handed me a clipboard with an application. ""Just fill this out. Which line are you applying for?""

  ""I'm terrible at phone sex,"" I said. ""As for the real thing…""

  She smiled. ""I bet you're a psychic.""

  ""That I am.""

  ""You look intuitive.""

  ""Do you have a pen?"" I asked.

  She handed me a red pen. ""All yours, buddy.""

  I sat down in the one chair across from her and filled out the application.

  HAVE YOU EVER BEEN CONVICTED OF FRAUD?

  No.

  HAVE YOU EVER BEEN CONVICTED OF A FELONY?

  No.

  WOULD YOU CALL YOURSELF INTUITIVE?

  All the time.

  PLEASE CIRCLE WHICH TOOLS YOU USE:

  TAROT

  RUNES

  I-CHING

  MEDIUM

  SPIRIT GUIDES

  PAST LIVES

  MONEY

  LOVE

  CAREER ADVICE.

  I circled them all and handed the application, pen and clipboard back to the receptionist.