Crazy Little Thing

by Layce Gardner

  “Oh, maybe someday,” EZ said, refilling Ollie’s coffee cup. “But not until I’m a lot older.”

  Claire poured syrup over the pancakes and said, “How much older? Aren’t you already middle-aged?”

  EZ looked shocked. “Are you kidding? I’m twenty.”

  Ollie fiercely shook her head at Claire behind EZ’s back. When that failed to get Claire’s attention she made slashing motions across her throat. Claire still didn’t see her. She continued, “I thought Ollie told me you we were the same age. As much as I hate to admit it, I’m middle-aged.”

  EZ turned and looked at Ollie. Ollie smiled big. Too big. That was when EZ’s eyes rolled back in her head – Ollie quickly reached out and grabbed the coffee pot out of her hands – and she crumpled to the floor.

  Claire looked from EZ to Ollie. “Was it something I said?”

  True Love

  “It’s not as easy to get a limp body upstairs as one would think,” Claire said. She had EZ by the feet and Ollie gripped EZ under the arms. They were carrying her upstairs. Ollie led the way, walking backwards.

  “Yes,” Ollie panted, “lugging a body around is a natural deterrent to murder.”

  “So is cutting up a dead body.”

  “Please tell me that’s not on your resume under special skills,” Ollie said.

  “No,” Claire panted. “But I have cut up a chicken before and unless you’ve taken a course in chicken anatomy, it’s actually quite difficult.”

  “All that sawing through the bones. You have to know where the joints are,” Ollie surmised.

  “Exactly.”

  “Well, it’s a good thing we’re not planning on cutting up EZ.” Ollie reached the top step and began to trek down the hallway. “We’re not planning on cutting her up, are we?”

  “No. I left my good saw at home,” Claire said, dryly. “You know, this could’ve been avoided if you had warned me that she fell asleep when presented with an anomaly to her view of time,” Claire said. “I didn’t know she still thought it was 1987.”

  “Well, we all have our little idiosyncrasies,” Ollie said.

  “Some more than others,” Claire said. She stopped and hitched EZ’s ankles up over her hips.

  “If you’re trying to insult me, you’ll have to do a better job than that,” Ollie said, using her butt to push open a bedroom door.

  “I’m not trying to insult you,” Claire said. “When I insult you, you’ll know.”

  “That’s reassuring.”

  They moved parallel to the bed, swinging EZ’s limp body between them. “On the count of three, drop her onto the bed,” Ollie said.

  They swung EZ back and forth as if she were in a hammock. They swung her higher with each count. “One… Two… Three!” Ollie said.

  Claire and Ollie let go at the same time – and watched EZ fly through the air. She flew over the bed – and kerplunk! – hit the floor on the other side of the bed.

  Ollie crawled over the bed to investigate. She poked EZ in the belly with one finger then breathed a sigh of relief. “She’s okay. Still alive. Still asleep.”

  “Can’t we leave her there,” Claire said. “I can’t lift anymore.”

  Ollie stood up just in time to see a dark shape scurry down the hallway. She ran to the doorway and looked each way. “Did you see that?”

  “What? Did I see what?” Claire asked, alarmed.

  Ollie ran down the hall to her bedroom and peeked through the door, which was ajar. “Look,” she whispered, gesturing for Claire to join her.

  The dark shape Ollie had seen hurrying down the hallway had belonged to none other than Oscar and the little hedgehog. They were now cuddled together on the bed and Oscar was bathing the hedgehog’s ears.

  Claire joined Ollie at the door. She peeked through the crack and made cooing sounds. “Isn’t that sweet?”

  “I think I’ll name the hedgehog Meyer. “Oscar and Meyer, get it?”

  “I like it,” Claire said. “And they’re the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.”

  “No, you’re the cutest thing I’ve ever seen,” Ollie thought, but wisely didn’t say. With Claire standing this close to her, she got a nose full of the green apple shampoo Claire used. And the peach soap. She thought Claire smelled like a fruit stand on a sunny Saturday morning at the Farmer’s Market. Absolutely edible. Wisely, Ollie didn’t voice that either.

  “True love,” Claire whispered.

  For a moment, Ollie thought Claire was talking about them. Then she realized Claire was referring to Oscar and Meyer. “Yeah,” she said, “They have all the luck.”

  That, unfortunately, she did say out loud. Claire gave her a perplexed look and said, “So, do you think you can wear something to our appointment besides those orange plaid surfer shorts?”

  “Appointment?” Ollie asked. “What appointment?”

  *

  Back in the kitchen, Claire poured Ollie another cup of coffee. Ollie recognized that Claire was trying to butter her up, but that was okay with her. She liked butter. She liked it even more when it was applied, figuratively and metaphorically (and maybe even literally), to her.

  “Okay,” Ollie said. “What’s all this about an appointment?” She sipped at her coffee. It was just the way she liked it. They both remembered how the other took their coffee. What did that mean, she supposed? Did it mean Claire still had a soft spot for Ollie? And speaking of soft spots… Ollie’s eyes dropped to Claire’s soft spots. She sipped her coffee and sighed appreciatively.

  Claire clapped her hands together like a prim schoolteacher dusting erasers. As soon as she had Ollie’s attention, she said, “I talked to Scarlet last night.”

  “And you’re telling me this because…?”

  “Because she was able to pull a few strings and get us an appointment with the judge for later on today,” Claire said.

  Ollie felt like someone had thrown a rock through her picture perfect morning. Gone was the smell of green apple. The peach soap that had earlier tickled her nostrils was now only a distant memory. “Oh?”

  “It’s with the same judge that married us - remember? Otis O’Connor.”

  How could she forget a black judge with an Irish last name? When they’d gotten married, Ollie had thought it was awesome that now in America, land of the free, home of the brave, a black man could marry two white women. She’d been proud and elated. “Great. That’s just great,” Ollie said, unable to disguise the sadness in her voice.

  “We have to talk to the judge, get the divorce forms to fill out and that’ll get the ball rolling. Scarlet is over being angry and uptight. Now she’s happy again. That’s good, right? ‘Cause if Scarlet ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy,” Claire joked.

  The joke fell flat. It didn’t even warrant a smile from Ollie. “When do we go?” Ollie had hoped it would take a few weeks. She just now realized that she’d been nurturing a harmless fantasy about living in the same house with Claire – like a true married couple.

  “As luck would have it, Judge O’Connor had a cancellation and we get his last appointment today. It’s at four-thirty,” Claire said.

  “Remind me to thank Scarlet later,” Ollie said, not even bothering to hide the sarcasm in her voice.

  Ollie Speaks… To Herself

  Ollie wasn’t in the habit of talking to herself. However, this was a special situation. And was it really talking to yourself if you were actually talking to your reflection in the mirror?

  “Hubba hubba,” Ollie said to Ollie’s reflection. She had put on her only dress-up clothes. Black pants and a white linen shirt. The only shoes she had were flip flops. Those would have to do with a pair of toe socks. She used extra hair gel to try and tame her unruly locks. It wasn’t working out too well, though. It made her hair spring up even higher, giving her a Ziggy Stardust look.

  “You’re not half bad.” She moved this way and that, checking out her butt in the mirror. She pretended to be somebody else who was picking herself up in a bar. “Hey
, good-looking, what’cha got cookin’?” She laughed at her own lack of cleverness. “Can I buy you a drink? You come here often?”

  Ollie leaned forward and peered deep into her own eyes. “You have the most beautiful blue eyes. You know, I’m a sucker for blue eyes.”

  *

  Claire was walking down the hallway when she heard Ollie talking to someone inside her bedroom. Claire stopped and pressed her ear against the door. She distinctly heard Ollie say, “I bet you’re a real tiger in bed, aren’t you?”

  Claire gasped. She quickly clasped her hand over her mouth. Ollie had somebody in her bedroom! They had only been in Des Moines one day and Ollie already had somebody in her room!

  Unable to control herself, Claire knelt before the door, squinted one eye and peered through the keyhole. She had to see what kind of loose floozy woman Ollie had managed to pick up and bring back home. Or maybe they were doing it over the computer. Like they were having Skype sex. Did this other woman even know that Ollie was married? Did she care was the better question.

  Claire couldn’t see a thing through the keyhole. It was all black like it was full of dust, lint and bug parts, and considering how old the door was, it made perfect sense.

  *

  Ollie walked toward the door. She was dressed and ready to go. She threw open the door, but it hit something, made a crunching noise and –

  Omigod! The door had smashed into Claire!

  Claire was rolling around on the floor, holding her eye and muttering, “Oh ow ow ow ow.”

  Ollie squatted down next to Claire, saying, “Are you okay?”

  “Do I look okay?” Claire asked. She sat up, cupping her hand over her eye. “Do you have a woman in there?” Claire tried to look over Ollie’s shoulder and into the bedroom.

  “Were you spying on me?” Ollie asked. “Were you peering through the keyhole?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Claire spat. “Who do you have in there?”

  “You were spying on me,” Ollie said. “Admit it.”

  “I shall admit nothing,” Claire said. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to get ready. My divorce awaits.”

  Ollie helped Claire to her feet. Claire nodded a stiff thank you and proceeded down the hall. Ollie said, “Claire?”

  Claire turned back around, still covering one eye.

  “How do I look?” Ollie held out her arms and did a little spin.

  “Like a waiter,” Claire said.

  Ollie’s face fell.

  “A very cute waiter,” Claire amended before walking away.

  Ollie smiled. Claire had been spying on her and she also thought she was cute. She was making headway.

  Claire Speaks

  Claire knitted her eyebrows and shook her head at the camera. She had make-up caked over the bruise below her left eye. “The past few days have been really weird. I’m not usually like this at all. I’ve never been in jail in my life and then suddenly I’m with Ollie for a couple of days and Bam! I wind up behind bars. Life around Ollie is always an adventure, I’ll give her that much. You never know what to expect next.”

  She smiled and looked past the camera, deep in thought. Suddenly, she sat up straighter and wiped the smile off her face, replacing it with a frown. “The thing is… I like to know what to expect. That’s why I like Scarlet. I mean, love Scarlet. I always know what to expect with her. She makes these lists. They’re so cute. She posts a list every morning for me on the fridge door. She outlines my entire day for me. She even tells me what to eat. She puts up this graph showing my expected caloric output and my expected caloric input. I’d be lost without her. Do you know before I met Scarlet my shoes were a mess? All over the closet. Scarlet taught me how to line them up by category: inside shoes, outside shoes, walking shoes, running shoes, dress shoes… then subdivided by color. Now in the morning I just have to stop and think, what kind of shoe am I wanting today? Do I want inside or outside? Am I going to walk or run or go to work? What color?’ Then my choice is obvious and I save minutes – literally minutes – every day simply by having organized shoes. You know if you save two minutes a day, that’s fourteen minutes a week, 56 minutes a month, almost twelve whole hours a year! Can you imagine? I used to waste a whole waking day just choosing what shoes to wear. You know how lucky I am to have Scarlet point that out for me?”

  Claire paused and looked down at her hands for a long moment. When she looked back up, she said, “No wonder Ollie and I didn’t work out. She’s more of the flip flop for every occasion type.”

  Here Come Da Judge

  Ollie led the way into the courthouse. Claire followed close behind, keeping her sunglasses on even after she stepped inside the building. G-Ray was the caboose. That way he could capture everything that happened on film. He followed Ollie and Claire through the metal detector, but a big hand clasped his shoulder and brought him to an abrupt stop.

  “You can’t come in here with that,” the stout female guard said, pointing at G-Ray’s helmet cam. G-Ray’s choice of outfit only compounded matters. He was wearing red longjohns under his surfer shorts, and a T-shirt under a yellow plaid jacket.

  “I have to have it. It’s for a documentary film I’m directing,” G-Ray said.

  “Film?” The Guard said, perking up.

  G-Ray looked her up and down, using the elevator-eye technique Ollie had taught him in the fifth grade. “You’re a whole lotta woman, aren’t you?”

  The Guard raised one eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Built like a brick house in the middle of a street,” G-Ray continued, using lyrics from one of his favorite songs.

  The Guard put both hands on her hips. Ollie recognized the pre-fight stance and came to the rescue. “What he means to say, Ma’am, is that you are just right for a speaking role in this film. Do you have any acting experience? Wait!” Ollie said, snapping her fingers, “Haven’t I seen you on TV?”

  The Guard softened and smiled at Ollie. “Well…” she began coyly, “I was a professional wrestler before this job.”

  “No kidding?” Ollie asked. “That’s incredible!”

  “What kind of role in the film?” The Guard asked.

  Claire pulled G-Ray and his helmet cam through the metal detector. Ollie walked through next, while still talking, “You could be the Security Guard with a heart of gold. You would speak one line. But, oh, what a line it is! The one line that will become the catch phrase for the entire film. You know like, ‘Show me the money!’ Or ‘You had me at hello.’ Or ‘Love is never having to say you’re sorry.’”

  Claire and G-Ray turned tail and ran toward the huge marble staircase in the middle of the lobby. Ollie backed away from the Guard, still talking, “Your face will be on T-shirts, bumper stickers. They’ll make those dolls with the bobbing heads in your likeness. We already have a toy line ready to go with a major hamburger chain.”

  The Guard asked, breathlessly, “What’s my line? What line do I get to say?”

  Thinking fast (or not so fast, depending on your view point), Ollie said, “Love is a battlefield.”

  “Love is a battlefield?” The Guard looked perplexed. “I think I’ve heard that somewhere.”

  “Just practice that line. We’ll be back in a just a bit to film it.”

  The Guard nodded and muttered, “Love is a battlefield. Love is a battlefield…”

  “That’s it!” Ollie coached. “Keep practicing!” She turned and fled.

  *

  The interior of the courthouse was marble and dark wood. It exuded seriousness. Ollie found G-Ray and Claire sitting on the benches outside Judge O’Connor’s courtroom. She ran up to them and doubled over, hands on knees, huffing and puffing. “Flip flops are not made for running,” she panted.

  G-Ray stood and gestured for Ollie to sit next to Claire. “Sit down here, Ollie. I need some pre-divorce footage of you and Claire.”

  Ollie sat. She tried to look serious, but only managed an uncomfortable look. Her collar was too tigh
t. Her waistband too tight. Her pants were itchy and she could feel the sweat pooling in the small of her back.

  “Are you as nervous as the first time you were here?” G-Ray asked Claire.

  “More nervous,” Claire replied. She shifted back and forth on the bench.

  Either she was fidgety or her butt had hives again. Maybe both, Ollie thought.

  “How about you, Ollie?”

  “Terrified,” Ollie said. And that was the truth. It was one thing to agree to a divorce. It was another to actually go through with it. She wasn’t terrified of the legal proceedings. She was terrified of losing Claire. True, she had sorta lost her the day Claire threw her out on her ass, but as long as they were married she had a hold on her – no matter how tenuous. But after the divorce would she ever see Claire again? That thought terrified her.

  G-Ray leaned against the wall and dropped to a squatting position so he could video them at eye level. “Elaborate, please. Terrified why?”

  Ollie shrugged. “The first time I was a little nervous, but happy. You know, really happy. Now I feel like… like I’m being summoned to the principal’s office. Like I did something wrong and I’m going to get a detention or even a suspension. Because we failed and now we have to admit it,” Ollie said, pointedly not looking over at Claire.

  “Claire, are you going to tell him you want to get married again?” G-Ray asked.

  Claire considered this. She looked over at Ollie. “Should I? I hadn’t given it much thought.”

  Ollie was torn about how to answer. One part of her wanted to help Claire and the other wanted to help herself. And those two things were at definite odds. She decided to pass the ball and give the question to G-Ray. “I don’t know. What do you think, G-Ray?”

  “If you tell him about Scarlet, he’ll think you’re a serial matrimonialist. That could work against you. However, if you don’t tell him that could be lying. Is there such a thing as perjury by omission?”