and were still fairly close, despite Mike’s attempts to keep the two apart. Brenda had a reputation.
Julie took the phone and her beer out onto the back steps. The sun was just starting to break through the clouds and it had already warmed ten degrees since she’d returned home.
“So, how did Mike take the news?” Brenda asked.
“He could’ve cared less.”
“What do you mean?”
“He and his brother are here and they’re packing Mike’s stuff. That bastard was going to slip out while I was at work today.”
“Are you kidding me?” Brenda asked, the anger growing in her voice. “What an asshole!”
“Tell me about it. You know what, Brenda? I don’t care. I really don’t. I’m starting to see Mike Willow for who he really is. I can’t believe I wasted two years of my life on him. What are you doing right now? I’ve got a full bottle of Jose and a fresh case of Bud. Want to come over and get shit-faced?”
“I’m there, girlfriend. I’ve just got to stop and get some smokes. I’ll see you in a half an hour.”
“Thanks, Brenda. You’re a good friend.”
True to her word, Brenda arrived thirty minutes later. Mike and Alan were packing up things in the garage and they ignored her as she walked up to the house. She was of average height and half a decade past gorgeous. Indeed, Brenda could still turn heads, but not like she did when she was in her prime. Her bleached hair was stiff from bad perms and the cut was slightly out of style; Brenda’s perfect teeth were smoke stained and she carried an extra fifteen pounds in places that weren’t flattering. She looked tired and her choices in clothing made her look available, which also took away from her beauty. Brenda was the girl at the end of the bar that men found irresistible, but not until midnight. She was everything that Julie was not, but the two had somehow remained close, despite that fact. Where Julie was the girl next door, Brenda was the girl getting dropped off at her car in the VFW parking lot on Saturday mornings.
Julie and Brenda commiserated about losing their jobs over a shot and a beer. Brenda avoided the obvious subject, proving to be not only a good friend, but a wise one at that. They both could see the elephant in the room, and that was quite enough. Half an hour passed; Mike sheepishly walked into the kitchen and stood there until the women quit talking.
“I need to run into Saint Francis to pick up some tie-down straps for my motorcycle,” Mike announced, studying something on the toes of his boots.
“Knock yourself out,” replied Julie, icily.
“I just thought you should know.”
Julie turned away without responding and Brenda glared at Mike. Mike walked out and a few seconds later they heard the rumble of Mike’s Chevy as he fired it up. The home phone rang again and Julie picked it up.
“Hello?” Julie listened for a moment and she suddenly smiled. She cupped the receiver in her palm and whispered to Brenda: “It’s Uncle Nick, I haven’t heard from him since Christmas.”
Brenda held up her cigarettes and smiled. “I’m gonna go have a smoke.”
Julie, having a little glow on and missing her favorite uncle terribly, stayed on the phone for nearly half an hour. Brenda came inside once and drank straight from the bottle of tequila. She then returned outside and waited for Julie.
Julie joined her a few minutes later and apologized for talking so long. Brenda shrugged it off, lighting up another smoke. The two looked at each other for a long time.
“Uncle Nick says that the shit is about to hit the fan,” Julie said. “He says that the economy could crash any day. What are we going to do?”
Brenda studied Julie and she saw the first of many tears that were about to fall. Brenda had heard the rumors about the economy, and while she was no expert, she knew things were about to get very bad. Everyone did. What they didn’t know was that they couldn’t possibly imagine just how bad things would actually get. The shit would be turbocharged, and seemingly endless. Brenda took Julie into her arms and let Julie have a good cry.
Mike and Alan arrived all too soon and the two women went back into the house. Noon came and went; Julie suddenly realized that it was nearly four O’clock. The two women talked and drank as Mike packed up his life and he and Alan loaded it into the moving trailer. When the time came to say good-bye, Julie had a buzz on and she was cold to Mike’s lame attempt at an apology. Alan waited out in the Suburban.
“This isn’t cool, Mike,” said Brenda.
“This is none of your business,” replied Mike, awkwardly.
“Don’t worry about it,” said Julie. “Either of you; I’m a big girl; I can damn sure take care of myself.”
Alan began to tap the horn of the big SUV.
“Well, I guess this is it,” said Mike. “Good-bye, Julie. I’ll call you in a few days to see how you’re doing.”
“Don’t bother.”
Mike shook his head and he turned and walked away. A moment later the front door opened and closed and Mike was gone. Tears fell from Julie’s eyes and Brenda once again took Julie into her arms and hugged her tight. “Don’t worry, Jules,” she whispered. “Mike is leaving the best thing that ever happened to him.”
“I know that,” said Julie
Five minutes later, Julie was startled to hear the front door open and suddenly slam shut. Mike rushed into the kitchen. “What the hell did you do to Alan’s truck?” Mike asked, pointing at Julie accusingly. “It’s dead out on the highway.”
Julie narrowed her eyes and charged at Mike. “What the hell did you ask me?” Julie screamed at him. “Are you kidding me? Get the hell out of my house, you rotten asshole!”
“Whoa,” Mike said. “Hang on, I’m sorry. It’s just that Alan’s truck is dead on the road and we thought…”
“You thought what?” Julie asked; her face curling up into an indignant mask. “Do you really think that I want you here? Get the hell out of here.”
“Yeah, man,” added Brenda. “You guys had better start walkin’.”
“Shit!” Mike shouted. “Give me the damn phonebook, I’ve got to call a tow-truck and get him towed into town. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to accuse you.”
“Like hell you didn’t,” Julie said.
“Give me the damn phonebook or I swear you’ll be sorry.”
Julie looked at Mike and saw a man she had never seen before. Mike’s face was red and the veins in his neck were bulging out. He looked at her like a predator; callous and calculating. Julie looked to Brenda and she finally grabbed the phonebook from the drawer by her knees. She flung it at Mike and it hit him in the chest.
“Thank you,” he growled.
“Asshole,” replied Julie.
Julie and Brenda remained quiet as they watched Mike leaf through the pages. Mike then grabbed the cordless phone off the counter and placed his call, jamming his fingers into the keys with obvious frustration. He explained the problem and then rolled his eyes as he listened to the voice on the other end. With gritted teeth, he nodded his head. A moment later he slammed the phone back down on the counter.
“They’re sending a tow-truck,” he snapped. “We might have to spend the night.”
Now it was Julie’s turn to be angry. She slammed her fist down on the other side of the island-counter and she paced back and forth in front of the refrigerator. “Oh,” she moaned. “That’s just great. Don’t you dare think that you’ll be sleeping in my bed with me.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”
“Good.”
Mike left the same way that he had come and Brenda gave Julie a long look. “How about another shot?” Brenda asked, already reaching for the half-empty bottle of tequila.
“Why not?” asked Julie.
Julie never drank like this. By five she was drunk; by six she was feeling queasy.
Mike and Alan had met the driver of the tow-truck and he had confirmed that there was nothing that could be done until morning. Alan called home from the basement phone. Bre
nda stood on the stairs and listened in; Julie was in the bathroom. When she heard Alan hand the telephone to Mike, her hands tightened into fists. While she wasn’t able to make out many of the words, Brenda knew that Mike wasn’t talking to his sister in-law. Mike Willow had another woman waiting for him in Rochester.
At half past six there was a knock at the door; Brenda answered it since Julie was still in the bathroom and Mike and Alan were in the basement. There was an angry man at the door.
“Who the hell are you?” he demanded to know. He was short and round, with a smashed face and a full head of gray hair. He held his hands on his expansive hips.
“None of your damn business,” replied Brenda. “Who the hell are you?”
“I own this house. Mike’s behind on the rent and his check bounced. Where the hell is he?”
“He’s not here, either is Julie,” lied Brenda. “Do you want to leave a message?”
“Yeah,” replied the fat man. “Tell them to be out of here by Saturday. Here’s their Eviction Notice.” he said, shoving a paper into Brenda’s hand. “Make sure they get it.” He then gave her a look up and down, licked his lips, turned around and disappeared into the twilight.
Brenda studied the papers, growing angrier by the second. Not only was Mike bailing out on Julie, he obviously hadn’t been paying the rent, either. When Julie returned to the kitchen, she looked green and had a glistening sheen of sweat on her forehead.
“I don’t feel so good.”
“You look like shit,” Brenda said. “Jules, why don’t you go to bed? I’ll just crash on the couch.”
“Crouch,” mumbled Julie. “Yeah… I’m sorry.”
Brenda tucked Julie into bed, fully dressed, the distinct odor of vomit on Julie’s breath. She closed the door and walked into the bathroom. Carefully, she fixed her makeup and touched up her hair with Julie’s curling iron. Satisfied with the reflection in the mirror, she walked back into the kitchen and grabbed the bottle of tequila. She took a deep breath and walked down the stairs.
Mike and Alan were throwing darts and drinking beers. “Julie’s passed out,” she purred. “I don’t suppose either of you guys want to party, do ya?”
Mike shook his head, but Alan smiled and gave Brenda an appraising look. “Hand me the bottle,” he said.
An hour later the bottle was gone and Mike had lost his edge. He closed the upstairs door and turned on the stereo. Reaching into the recesses of the liquor cabinet, he produced a bottle of single malt scotch. With Toby Keith playing on the stereo, the brothers took turns dancing with Brenda. “I’m so drunk,” she said, stumbling along seductively. “I shouldn’t be doing this…”
Somewhere around nine, Julie stumbled to her feet and rushed back into the upstairs bathroom. She fell to her knees and got sick into the toilet. She stayed there for a long time, promising God that she would never drink tequila again. Half an hour later she crawled back into bed.
There was a full moon that night and things heated up rapidly in the little basement. “Brenda,” said Mike, his eyes half closed and his speech slurred. “You’re beautiful… Do you know that?”
Brenda smiled at Mike as they danced and she pulled him closer. The song ended and Dr. Alan broke in. He was every bit as drunk as his brother, but surprisingly, he was crude in his comments and made no mistake as to what his intentions were. Again, Brenda smiled and she planted a wet kiss on Alan’s lips. Alan held her tight and returned the kiss. Mike studied the pair and he paced the floor, waiting for the song to end. When it did, he shamelessly cut in on his brother. He grabbed Brenda by the waist and she smiled at him.
“Oh, Mike,” she whispered into his ear. “You’re so hot.”
“Lea sure thinks so,” Mike said, slurring the words and letting his hands wander over Brenda’s backside.
“Don’t you mean Julie?”
“No, I’m mean L-L-Lea…”
“How nice,” said Brenda, squeezing Mike’s butt, hard in her hands. “Ooh Mike, I’ve always wanted to be with you.”
“Yeah,” said Mike. “Me too.”
Alan was suddenly pushing Mike out of the way as the song changed on the stereo. Brenda smiled and nibbled his earlobe. “Hello tiger,” she said.
Julie slept until after eleven O’clock the next morning. Brenda was already up, watching television and drinking coffee. There was no sign of Mike or Alan. Julie poured herself a cup of coffee and took two Tylenol; her hands shook and she prayed that she could keep them down. She sat down on the sofa; neither she nor Brenda spoke for a full minute.
“The guys?” Julie asked.
“Gone,” said Brenda. “They left an hour ago.”
Julie shook her head and sipped her coffee. “Bastards,” she mumbled.
“Yep,” Brenda replied.
Brenda and Julie made a pizza for lunch and they worked together around the house to make it seem whole once more. The longer Julie thought about what had happened, the happier she was that Mike had gone. She found that she hadn’t really loved him at all. Brenda let it slip that some girl named Lea was waiting for Mike down in Rochester. Julie nodded, and she told Brenda that she had suspected that yesterday.
Brenda left and Julie slept alone that night.
The following afternoon the telephone rang and Julie looked at the caller ID. It was Alan and Angie’s number. Julie hesitated before answering it. “Hello?”
“You rotten bitch!” shrieked Angie into the telephone. “How could you do that to me?”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Julie asked, puzzled by the question.
“You know damn well what I’m talking about, you rotten bitch! Your friend gave my husband a case of the herpes! Herpes, did you hear me?”
“Give me a break,” said Julie.
“And now I’ve got them!”
Julie’s eyes got huge and she pulled the receiver away and stared at it. “Holy crap,” she whispered to herself. “I don’t believe you,” she said into the telephone. “Nothing happened that night.”
“Like hell nothing happened! Oh, and do you want to know what else, you dirty bitch? Mike has it, too! He gave it to Lea! Your friend managed to infect this entire household! I’m going to kill her, I promise you that. I’m going to make her suffer. There’s no cure for this shit, did you know that?”
Julie pulled the phone away from her ear and she pushed the end button. She set the phone down and stared at it for a long, long time. Finally, after thinking about what Angie had said and carefully choosing her words, she picked up the phone and dialed Brenda.
“Jules?” Brenda answered, somewhat sheepishly.
“Yeah, it’s me,” Julie said. “I just wanted to tell you something.”
“Okay…”
“Thank you. What you did the other night, it worked. Doing that was mean and they hate you for it, but…thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” replied Brenda in a quiet voice.
And the two friends would never speak of it, ever again.
Julie Hartman, Julie Hartman Page 2