Crazy Little Thing

by Layce Gardner

  Ollie glanced over at Claire and Scarlet. Claire looked apprehensive. Scarlet looked nothing but confident. Ollie hoped that Scarlet fell right on her confidence… hard. That would show her.

  Steve led the way up the hill. It wasn’t easy to walk uphill in snow and big boots. By the time they reached the top, Scarlet was huffing and puffing and her face matched her name.

  “I thought they had chair lifts,” Scarlet panted.

  “Not for this hill,” Steve said. “The chair lift is for the big hills.”

  “At least we don’t have to stand around and wait for a wave,” G-Ray said.

  Steve began their first lesson. “Stopping is the first thing to learn. It’s important to learn how to stop before you learn how to go.” He stood on his snowboard and leaned back on his heels, saying, “You stop by using the heel side edge.” Next, he leaned forward with his arms fully extended and said, “You can turn using the toe side edge or the heel side edge.” He looked at Scarlet pointedly and said, “Once you’ve mastered that, you can get on the lift and go do the big hills.”

  “And how do we know which side is heel and which is toe? They’re not labeled,” Scarlet said pointedly.

  Steve looked at G-Ray as if to say, “Is she kidding?”

  Ollie jumped in. “You can remember which is which by thinking toe edge is by your toes and heel by your heel.”

  “Well, why didn’t he just say that?” Scarlet said.

  “Dood, it’s implied,” G-Ray said.

  “Moving right along. We need to figure out how you’re going to ride,” Steve said.

  “Ride? I thought we had to walk,” Scarlet said.

  Claire tired to keep the annoyance out of her voice as she said, “Scarlet, let’s just let Steve explain everything and then we can ask questions.”

  Steve pointed at Scarlet. “C’mere, Red. I’ll show you what I mean.”

  “It’s Scarlet,” she said, huffily.

  “Well, Scarlet, just stand here and I’m going to give you a little push.”

  “Push?” Scarlet asked. “Why don’t you push Ollie?”

  “I chose you because you looked like a natural,” Steve said.

  That seemed to appease her. “Oh, all right,” Scarlet said. “Just don’t mess up my new outfit. It cost more than you make in a year.”

  Claire winced at Scarlet’s rudeness, but it didn’t seem to bother Steve. He stood behind Scarlet and said, “This will determine which foot is your dominant foot and that will tell you what kind of stance you will have. Now just do what comes natural when I push you forward.”

  “Okay,” Scarlet said.

  Steve pushed her. Scarlet obviously didn’t have a dominant foot because she didn’t put any foot forward. Instead, she fell face down and began to slide down the hill. Steve chased after her, but her new polyester suit acted like a greased sled and she picked up speed. Steve gave up the chase after Scarlet out distanced him by a good fifty yards.

  They all stood watching Scarlet slide down the hill face-first.

  “Dood,” G-Ray said. “This is so not good.”

  “Red, turn over and dig your heels in!” Steve yelled.

  Scarlet did manage to flop over. And then she flopped over again. And again. She continued sledding down the hill on her back heading straight for the terrain park and the half pipe.

  Ollie looked over at Claire. Claire was white-faced and frozen to the spot.

  “Dig your heels in!” Steve yelled again.

  Ollie whispered to G-Ray, “You getting this on film?”

  G-Ray nodded. “You bet your sweet patootie I am.”

  “Keep rolling. It looks like she’s going to luge right into the half pipe. She might do the first triple cork in history without using a snowboard,” Ollie said.

  “I can’t watch,” Claire said, putting her hands over her face. “Tell me when it’s over.”

  Ollie watched in awe as Scarlet hit the half-pipe straight on, skyrocketed into the air, corkscrewed around four times, hit the ground with a thud, her legs splayed wide, and smashed into a rail.

  “Ow!” Everyone said simultaneously.

  “Dood, she hit that rail with her woman parts,” G-Ray said.

  “That’s one way to stop,” Ollie said.

  Claire and Steve ran down the hill toward Scarlet. Claire pulled Scarlet into a sitting position. After a moment, Steve waved back to the group, saying, “She’s going to be okay!”

  Ollie said, “I bet her vulva turns a real pretty shade of claret.”

  It’s Complicated

  Later that day, Ollie and G-Ray walked in the front door and found Claire doing another cumin foot bath. EZ was propped up in a chair – snoring – and also had her feet soaking in a bucket of yellow water.

  Ollie smiled down at Claire. “Your feet are yellow. Do they match Scarlet’s bruised vulva?”

  Claire laughed. “And most couples just get matching shirts. Take off your shoes. Stick your feet in here with me.”

  “Okay,” Ollie said. She drew up a chair, took off her shoes, rolled up her pants legs and stuck her feet in the bath next to Claire’s feet. It felt very intimate. Almost more intimate than sex.

  Claire wiggled her toes and sighed contentedly. “Begonia said I have a lot of cleansing to do. She set EZ up with a foot bath, too. She doesn’t have to be awake to detoxify.”

  “Is my lady love here?” G-Ray said.

  “Hey, Lover Man,” Begonia said, entering the room.

  G-Ray dove into Begonia’s embrace. Ollie couldn’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy. Ollie noticed that Begonia’s feet were also yellow.

  Begonia said, “Claire and I were having a cumin foot bath to cleanse our bodies of unwanted and harmful toxins.”

  “Does that include Scarlet?” Ollie asked. “Where is Scarlet anyway?”

  “In our room icing her hoo-ha,” Claire said.

  “Icing?” G-Ray said. “What kind of icing? Butter cream? I love that cream cheese icing that goes on the top of carrot cake.”

  Ollie and Claire laughed. Ollie said, “Not that type of icing, G-Ray. She meant she’s putting ice on her swollen parts.”

  “Oh. Too bad.”

  “Anyway, I took my car in to the dealership. Begonia was kind enough to give me a ride back,” Claire said.

  “Are you getting it re-painted?” Ollie asked.

  “Nope,” Claire said. “I sold it.”

  “Sold it! But you love that car,” Ollie said.

  “Loved it. Past tense,” Claire said.

  “Does this have something to do with Scarlet?”

  “No. Maybe. Probably. I don’t know,” Claire said. “I just couldn’t bear to look at that color anymore. And when the salesman made me an offer, I said yes.”

  “Dood, I think it rocks that you sold a car that costs as much as a house for some people. That’s entirely too much cash for something as transparent as a hot set of wheels. Your car is not you and you are not your car,” G-Ray said.

  Claire jumped up. “Bingo!”

  “Bingo?” Ollie said.

  Claire stepped out of the foot bath and wiped her feet on a towel. “My time away from work has made me realize something.”

  “That you need money to survive? That it’s the pits being poor?” Ollie joked.

  “It’s got me to thinking about what’s important in life. I work too much and too hard to afford things that make me look like I work too much and too hard and that’s nothing but pretension. I want to live my life not finance it.”

  “Yes, life is to be savored not slaved over,” Begonia said.

  “Does Scarlet know you sold the car?” Ollie said. “Cause I’m thinking she’s going to throw a regular hissy fit.”

  “She knows,” Claire said. “I told her.”

  “She went ape shit, am I right?”

  Claire grinned. “She went on Facebook and changed her relationship status to ‘It’s complicated.’”

  “Oooh, man,” G-Ray said. “Th
at’s harsh.”

  They all laughed.

  “She also changed her plane reservations. She’s flying back to Houston in about three hours,” Claire said.

  “Oh,” Ollie said. She was stumped for what to say. A giant part of her wanted to jump up and down and yell yippee! Another part felt sorry for Claire. So she did the safe thing and kept her mouth shut.

  Claire shrugged. “Maybe Scarlet is right. We need some space for a few days.”

  “Are you okay with that?” Ollie asked.

  “I think so,” Claire answered. “But that could be the cumin talking.”

  Liar, Liar, Pants On Fire

  Ollie and Claire were sitting in the antechamber of Dr. Secaule’s office waiting for their counseling session to begin. Scarlet had been gone for two days and Claire moped around the house the whole time. All she did was read her Elvis biographies and sleep.

  “Did you write your list? The one where we were supposed to write down the things we liked about each other?” Claire asked.

  “No,” Ollie said in a small voice.

  “I didn’t either,” Claire said.

  They were both lying. Ollie lied because she didn’t want to admit to Claire that she still had feelings for her. Claire lied because she knew Ollie had just lied to her. However, Claire thought Ollie lied because she really didn’t have feelings for her and that made Claire not want to admit to her own feelings for Ollie. It was all very complicated and convoluted and could be classified as a classic misunderstanding.

  Ollie thought these types of misunderstandings only happened in lesbian romance novels. She was wrong. They happened in real lesbian life, too. But it was the thought of the lesbian romance novels that had given Ollie her bright idea in the first place.

  “What bright idea?” Claire asked.

  “Huh?”

  “You were talking to yourself. You said something about a bright idea,” Claire said.

  Ollie pulled two index cards out of her pocket and handed one to Claire. “This is yours.”

  Claire looked at the card. “What is it?”

  “I took the liberty of writing our lists for each other. That way we can get this counseling thing over with and get divorced,” Ollie said.

  Claire was quiet. Too quiet.

  “That’s what you want, right? To get divorced?” Ollie asked.

  Claired nodded. “Sure. I mean, yeah. The sooner the better.”

  “Me, too,” Ollie said.

  They were both lying.

  Will The Real Doctor Please Stand Up?

  Ten minutes later, Ollie and Claire sat patiently in the antechamber waiting for the doctor when a door opened and a petite woman smiled at Ollie and Claire. The woman’s hair was shellacked into a tight bun. She wore no make-up and sensible shoes. “You must be Ollie,” she said, looking at Claire. “And you must be Claire,” she said to Ollie.

  “Um, no, I’m Ollie,” Ollie said.

  “And I’m Claire.”

  “Oh, I’m terribly sorry,” the woman said. “Why don’t we get started?” She turned and walked back into the office.

  Ollie and Claire exchanged a puzzled look and followed. They sat in identical wing chairs as the woman took the chair behind the same desk the Nazi doctor had sat in previously. She put her elbows on the desk and tented her hands under her chin. “First let me apologize for missing our appointment last week. I had an emergency. I donate time to the local mental hospital and one of my more severe cases escaped. We were able to apprehend her, but let me tell you, it was a lively chase.”

  “Um… I don’t mean to be rude,” Ollie said, “but who are you exactly?”

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” the woman said. “I’m Dr. Secaule. I’m the doctor who will sign off on your divorce paperwork.”

  “Then who was the doctor we met last week?”

  “Last week? I wasn’t here last week,” Dr. Secaule said.

  “Yes, we know that,” Claire said. “We had a session with another doctor. She said she was Dr. Secaule.”

  “Are you certain?” Dr. Secaule asked.

  “Yes, we’re certain,” Ollie said. “It would be kinda hard to forget a Nazi dominatrix who damn near whipped us into submission.”

  Dr. Secaule gasped. Her eyes bugged and she spun her chair around, opened a drawer, shut it, opened another drawer, shut it. She picked up her phone, replaced it in the cradle. “Alligator,” she said.

  She spun the chair. “Aardvark.”

  She spun around again. “Anteater.”

  Ollie and Claire watched the strange goings-on in alarmed silence.

  “Alabama,” another spin of the chair.

  “Doctor?” Claire asked. “Are you all right?”

  “Ssshhhh,” Dr. Secaule said, “I’m counting.”

  “Counting?”

  She stopped spinning in the chair and leveled her gaze at Claire. “I count everything. Words. Letters. Syllables. Pens. Pencils. Lines on the pages. You name it, I count it.”

  “That’s very interesting,” Ollie said for lack of anything else to say.

  Dr. Secaule interrupted, “Twenty letters.”

  “Maybe we should come back later,” Claire said, half-rising from her chair.

  “Seven syllables,” Dr. Secaule said.

  The office door opened. Ollie and Claire turned in the seat to see the Nazi doctor glaring at Dr. Secaule through her magnified monocle. “Aha! Zere you are!”

  “Anchorage, Attila, Atmosphere,” Doctor Secaule said as she spun in the chair. One revolution, two revolutions, three… spinning faster and faster…

  The Nazi doctor strode across the room in three giant steps, stopped the spinning chair with one well-placed leather boot, grabbed Dr. Secaule by the scruff of her neck and said, “You haf been a bad girl. A wery bad girl, indeed. You know vat happens ven you run away from zee hospital grounds and impersonate a doctor?”

  Ollie jumped to her feet. “She’s not the doctor?”

  The Nazi dragged the fake Dr. Secaule to the door, saying, “Nein. Surely, you did not zink such a neencompoop as zis could weally be a doctor? I shall return momentarily.” She pushed the fake Dr. Secaule through the door and kicked it closed behind her, leaving the two alone in the office.

  Ollie and Claire took a full moment to digest what had just happened. Ollie was the first to speak, “Nincompoop. Now there’s a word you don’t hear every day.”

  “Nine letters,” Claire said.

  They laughed.

  The door flew open. Ollie and Claire stopped laughing. The real Doctor Secaule, the Nazi Doctor Secaule, took her seat behind the desk, stuck the cigarette holder in one side of her mouth and smiled with the other side of her mouth.

  “Now,” Doctor Secaule said. “You vere to draw up a list of vat you adored about the other, ja?”

  “Ja,” Ollie said. “I mean, yes.” She held up the index card she was holding.

  Dr. Secaule squinted at Ollie. “You first. Read.”

  Ollie looked at the sweaty index card in her hand. She stared at it for a full thirty seconds.

  “Read it aloud,” Dr. Secaule said.

  “Oh,” Ollie said. She cleared her throat and read: “Her cerulean blue eyes undressed me. Her smoky voice ran hot needles of anticipation over my throbbing woman center. I trembled when her tongue darted between the apex of my thighs –“

  “Enough!” Dr. Secaule bellowed. She turned her glare to Claire. “Now you. Read.”

  Claire gulped and read aloud from her index card: “I knew we were destined to be together from the very first moment we were trapped in the cabin. We were snowed under for three whole months with only our bodies to entertain us. That first night she saved me from freezing to death by hugging her naked body close to mine. We survived on lust and stale crackers for the next…”

  “Enough!” Dr. Secaule yelled. “You zink I haf never read lesbian fiction? Your vords are straight out of a romance novel!”

  “What are you talking about?” Ollie sai
d. She made sure her pupils did not slide to the left. She had read somewhere once that liars always looked to the left. She had to contort her face to achieve this.

  Dr. Secaule leaned back in her chair with her hands behind her head. She put her enormous feet on the desk and crossed her boots at the ankle. “You know vat I am zinking?”

  “Zinking?” Ollie asked.

  “Zinking! Zinking!” Dr. Secaule yelled, rapping her knuckles on top of her head.

  “Oh. No, I don’t know what you’re zinking,” Ollie said.

  “I zink ve vill play a little game,” Dr. Secaule said. “I zink ve vill play a vord association game.”

  “Oh, goodie,” Claire said without enthusiasm.

  “Ollie vill say a vord then Claire vill say a vord. First vord that comes to mind, you vill say. You vill not edit. You vill only talk,” Dr. Secaule said. “Ready. Set. Go!”

  Ollie’s eyes widened. She was stuck.

  “Talk! I vill mek you talk!” Dr. Secaule yelled, pounding her fist on the desk.

  “Nazi!” Ollie blurted.

  “Dominitrix,” Claire blurted back.

  Ollie was quiet. “Talk, talk!” Dr. Secaule prodded. “No zinking! Faster, faster!”

  “Um…Nose,” Ollie said.

  “Plastic surgery,” Claire said. “Technically, that’s two words, but it’s only one thought.”

  “Continue! Faster!” Dr. Secaule urged.

  “Scarlet,” Ollie said.

  “Bitch.”

  “Fiance.”

  “Cumin,” Claire said.

  Ollie looked at her. “How did you get cumin from fiancé?”

  Claire shrugged. “Scarlet, my fiancé, thinks cumin made her poop her pants.”

  “Talk, talk!” Dr. Secaule said.

  “Um… Begonia,” Ollie said.

  “G-Ray,” Claire answered.

  “Love.”

  “Marriage.”

  “Me,” Claire said.

  “You.”

  “You,” Claire said.

  “Love.”

  “You,” Claire said.

  “I love you,” Ollie said.

  There was a pause. Ollie looked at Claire. “Sorry. Erase that. I didn’t mean to say that. Can I have a do-over?”