Love Over Moon Street

by Saxon Bennett

  “I think that was pretty obvious, mate,” Jackie said. Wesson made a move toward her. Jackie lifted the spray bottle. “Don’t make me.” Wesson stopped.

  “Ingenious,” Lexus said.

  “It works on cats and angry lesbians—I’m telling you, there’s a lot of similarities. I’ve always said, put a bunch of lesbians in a small room and eventually they’ll go feral.”

  “I’ve never thought about spraying them before,” Lexus said.

  “Where is she?” Wesson growled. She took a step.

  Jackie let out a warning spray. Wesson stopped.

  Vibro had disappeared into the stacks during the melee. Sparky watched as she perused the books. She appeared unfazed by the fact that she’d almost been clobbered by a very angry lesbian.

  “I think I’d better get her out of here. Wesson, come on. Sparky is not to be found today,” Lexus said.

  Vibro’s disembodied voice came from the Sex and Sensuality department. “Sparky told me she loves you. She just thinks that the two of you make each other crazy and that you’re better off apart. That doesn’t mean that you didn’t have some really special moments that she remembers fondly.”

  “Really?” Wesson said.

  “And she said you were excellent in bed,” Vibro said.

  Wesson colored at that.

  “See,” Lexus said. “Now, let’s go have those cream cheese-filled strawberry pancakes I was telling you about.” She pulled on Wesson’s arm.

  “We still have some things to talk about, Ms. Baseball Bat,” Wesson said over her shoulder.

  “No, I don’t think we do, Ms. Awful Ex-girlfriend,” Vibro said.

  Wesson was about to turn around and go after Vibro, but Jackie was pointing the spray bottle at her. Wesson scowled and let Lexus pull her toward the door.

  “Oh, crap,” Lexus said, looking back. “I forgot the books. I set them on the counter during the hubbub. I hope they didn’t get wet.” She scowled briefly at Wesson, who ignored her.

  “I’ll get them,” Vibro said, still hiding out in the stacks.

  “Great. I’ll pay you later. I appreciate your help, Vibro. See you all at home,” Lexus said. She didn’t sound facetious, but Sparky wondered. Lexus was wry sometimes.

  “Any time,” Vibro said.

  They left with Lexus continuing to maintain her firm hold on Wesson’s arm.

  “Can I come out now?” Sparky called from her hidey-hole.

  “No, I’ll come up,” Vibro said. “That girlfriend of yours is a slippery one. She might backtrack.”

  “Ex-girlfriend,” Sparky corrected.

  “Says you,” Vibro said, climbing the steps.

  “I’ll bring us coffee,” Jackie said. “We were going to have some until we were so rudely interrupted, but thanks for the book sales. It’s been kind of a slow day and a gal’s gotta make a crust.”

  “Not a problem. I want that book on tantric sex too.” Vibro entered the hidey-hole and plunked herself down in a red bean-bag chair. She wiggled her butt around in it until she was comfortable. “I like these. I haven’t sat in one since I was ten. I had a comb in my back pocket and it poked a hole in it. Patty Singleton never forgave me, and that was the end of our budding romance.”

  “You were in love with a girl at ten?” Sparky said.

  “Weren’t we all? Are you all right?” Vibro’s smarty-pants demeanor morphed into one of motherly concern. She wore the cerulean blue dress shirt she’d shown Sparky the first night they’d had drinks together. It was tied at the waist and worn over a pair of black capri pants with white trainers. She looked stunning.

  “You’re not in your costume/outfit/dress-up thing,” Sparky said.

  “Costume?” Vibro said. She appeared genuinely puzzled.

  “You know the soldier one, the swashbuckling one, the schoolgirl, the country gentleman about to go riding, one of those things.”

  “Oh, I didn’t have time. If I’d known that would upset you I would’ve dressed. This is my usual at-home outfit. Which costume/outfit thing is your favorite?”

  Sparky blushed. “I like the schoolgirl one. I think it’s the skirt.”

  Vibro smiled and shot her a coquettish look. “Next time I come rescue you I’ll wear it. Now, how are you doing?”

  “I feel stalked. And now she hates you too. What am I going to do?”

  “We could throw her off a bridge,” Vibro suggested.

  “I don’t want to go to prison.”

  “No, you’re right. You’re far too cute for that. They’d all be fighting over you and the biggest, meanest woman would get you,” Vibro said.

  “You’re not helping.”

  “Why don’t you find her a new girlfriend?” Jackie said, coming up the stairs with a tray of coffees.

  “Who would want her?” Vibro said.

  Jackie set the tray down. “She probably isn’t that narkie with other people and she is a bit of a looker.”

  “If you like psychotic women,” Vibro said.

  Jackie poured cream into her coffee and offered the creamer to Sparky, who did the same. Vibro dumped four sugar packets in hers and kept it black. “Never understood how you drink it like that,” Jackie said.

  “It’s called jolting. If I’m going to caffeine up I want the sugar buzz with it. Anyway, who are you to talk? Aren’t you supposed to be drinking tea?”

  “Can’t stand the stuff.” Jackie made a face.

  “How would I go about finding her a new girlfriend?” Sparky said.

  “We could place an ad that says, ‘Psychotic, good-looking woman seeks same,’” Vibro said. “Do you really think she’s all that good looking?” she asked Jackie.

  “Vibro, if I didn’t know you better I’d think you were jealous,” Jackie said.

  “What!” Vibro said.

  Sparky sipped her coffee. “Maybe we would could set her up with Jennifer?”

  “I thought you said Jennifer was a philanderer,” Jackie said.

  “She is. That’s why I threw her out,” Vibro said.

  Jackie rolled her eyes. “You Yanks are so emotional. If I caught my girlfriend cheating—I tell her off and let it go.”

  “Wesson would kill Jennifer if she caught her cheating,” Sparky said.

  “Great! That would solve our problem. Jennifer would go to Dante’s newly created tenth ring of hell, aptly named Lesbian Cheater’s Field, and Wesson would be incarcerated. It’d be perfect,” Vibro said.

  “Let’s give this some thought. Wesson can’t be that narkie or you wouldn’t have fallen in love with her. What are some good traits?” Jackie asked.

  Sparky was stymied.

  “Come now, there must have been something good about her,” Jackie said, pouring more coffee and watching Vibro add four more packets of sugar. “I’m bloody glad I’m not spending the rest of the day with you—all that sugar is going to send you for a serious walk-about.”

  Sparky eyed Vibro, wondering if she should be concerned. Vibro was already high-strung. What was she capable of all jolted up?

  “I always drink my coffee like this. Don’t worry,” Vibro said.

  “What’s good about her?” Jackie repeated.

  “Well, she is a good housekeeper,” Sparky said. Their house was always neat, and Sparky always had clean clothes.

  “A good housekeeper!” Vibro screeched. “Cut out my clitoris if anyone ever comes up with that as one of my attributes.”

  Jackie flattened out her lips in apparent concern. “We’ll have to do better than that.”

  Sparky furrowed her brow.

  “What first attracted you to her?” Jackie prodded.

  “At the time she seemed so different from everyone else I knew. She went to art museums. She liked all sorts of eclectic music. We ate strange food.”

  “I like Zydeco,” Vibro said.

  “Okay, that’s good. She’s diverse and interesting,” Jackie said.

  “And I tried sushi once…for five seconds,” Vibro said. “Befo
re I spit it out.”

  Jackie shot Vibro a look. “We’re not talking about you.”

  “There’s a great exhibit of Pacific Northwest Grunge Art at the museum,” Vibro said.

  Sparky patted her hand. “Do you want to go?”

  “No, I hate stuff like that. I don’t understand why’d you paint coat hangers shit brown and twist them into odd shapes and call it art. I just don’t get it.”

  “Neither do I. There’s a roller derby meet at two thirty in the warehouse district. I saw a poster on the way here. Wanna go?” Sparky said.

  “Oh, my God, yes.” Vibro positively glowed.

  Jackie threw her hands up in the air. “I give. Poor Wesson is on her own.”

  Sparky stared at her for a moment. “I think that’s what she really wants. She just doesn’t know it yet.”

  Sparky wondered if she knew what she wanted. She glanced over at Vibro, who smiled at her. Yes, she did know what she wanted.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  The Big It

  Pen and Cheryl sat on the couch watching Lexus flit around the room like a deranged Tinkerbell with a feather duster. “Now, remember no off-the-cuff remarks. Not everyone understands our sense of humor,” Lexus said. She absentmindedly dusted the top of Pen’s head. “No black tar heroin jokes.” She pointed at Cheryl with the feather duster. “And no freaky ER stories like the one where they brought in a guy with his arm in a tourniquet and his hand in a plastic bag.”

  “You never told me that story,” Pen said. Lexus dusted Cheryl’s head on her way to the mantelpiece.

  “He was an inventor who was also an avid bicyclist. He was creating a Slice-o-matic bike wheel so he could chop up vegetables while he rode—he was also a vegetarian—and he got his hand caught in the thing.”

  “Wow,” Pen said, her eyes wide. “Did you sew his hand back on?”

  “No, it was too mangled, but he did go on to invent a one-handed bicycle handlebar which was a great help to one-handed people who are avid bicyclists,” Cheryl said.

  “Are you messing with me?” Pen said.

  “Maybe a little,” Cheryl said. She winked at Pen, who giggled. It was times like these that Cheryl treasured. This “Parent-Thing,” as Lexus referred to it, was becoming more natural to her and a whole lot more fun. It was the “Big It”—that’s what they called the adoption process—that posed the problem.

  “That is a prime example of what I mean. Most people do not understand the subtleness of morbid humor. And no scatological humor either. The social worker is not going to want to hear about the length, breadth and coloring of anyone’s poop in this family.”

  “The ‘Big It’ is no fun,” Pen said.

  “I know, right?” Cheryl said. She noticed that Pen had on the same shoes as she had—a pair of black Vans. Technically, they were skateboarder shoes, but Cheryl favored them because they were relatively slip proof. “Did you get new shoes?”

  Pen blushed. “I liked yours. They don’t make noise when I walk around in the library—I like being Ninja Girl in the stacks. I hope you don’t mind that I copied you.”

  “No, not at all. In fact, I’m rather flattered.”

  “You have cool clothes,” Pen said.

  “Well, thank you.” Cheryl thought that when Pen said “cool” she meant normal.

  “Oh, my fucking God, there’s a fly in here. The social worker will think we don’t have a sanitary house. Oh God, oh God, oh God.” Lexus was leaping up and down in terror. “What are we going to do?”

  “Use a flyswatter,” Pen suggested, getting up of the couch. “I’ll get it.”

  Lexus regained her grip. “Yes, a flyswatter, exactly. Kill the fly, dispose of the remains, it’s like it never happened.”

  Cheryl got up and took Lexus in her arms. She held her still although Lexus did attempt to jump up and down again. “You’ve got to calm down. Take some deep breaths and relax. We are great parents. We have a nice home…”

  “What about the fly? I’ve got to get the fly,” Lexus said, still squirming.

  “We will—no worries.” This would have been true if the doorbell hadn’t rung.

  “Oh, no, she’s here. Give me that,” Lexus said, breaking free and snatching the flyswatter from Pen. The fly landed on Martha Sue’s urn on the mantelpiece. Lexus went for it with the determination of an assassin. She swatted it with every ounce of her Mother-Protector being and sent the urn and its contents flying all over the living room floor.

  Cheryl hadn’t counted on that happening as she opened the door. A woman with lime-green hair smiled and offered her hand. She was wearing a black and white herringbone suit with shoes that matched her hair and her briefcase. She looked like something out of Alice in Wonderland.

  “Hello, my name is Brenda Lee Bandersnatch and I’m your social worker.”

  “Oh, great, yes, please come in. I’m Cheryl.”

  “Very nice to meet you, Cheryl.” She said it with an imprinting tone, as if using a device to remember names. Cheryl had read about this mnemonic technique in a book on memory improvement. It was important for a doctor to remember names.

  “You have a very nice home, Cheryl,” said Brenda Lee.

  Oh, no, Cheryl thought, she’s going to be one of those people who use your name at the end of each sentence. “Thank you, Ms. Bandersnatch,” Cheryl said, trying to position herself so Brenda Lee couldn’t see into the living room. When Brenda Lee moved her head to look around Cheryl, Cheryl moved the same way. “It’s awfully nice weather we’re having today,” Cheryl said, trying to stall.

  “Yes, well, I suppose it is if one is a cloudspotter. The clouds today are a perfect example of stratiformis, Cheryl. Now, where are the others?”

  “Oh, yes,” Cheryl said, acting as if she’d forgotten them momentarily. “They’re in the living room, Ms. Bandersnatch.”

  “Oh, please call me Brenda Lee.” They walked to the living room. “And this must be Penelope,” she said, pointing to Pen, who was holding the dustpan while Lexus swept up the faux remains of Martha Sue. “Did we have an accident?” she asked.

  “No, this isn’t an accident. We have a very safe house, locks on everything and play gates and outlet covers,” Lexus said.

  She was right about that, Cheryl thought. Lexus had every cupboard child-proofed, which was ridiculous because, first off, Pen had cooked black tar heroin for her mother and, second, she was not a toddler. Lexus didn’t care. The adoption requirement manual had listed them and that book was gospel in a house of agnostics.

  “So you meant to put that stuff on the floor?”

  “Well, no. I was trying to…” Lexus stopped. “I was doing a little-last minute…” She stopped again.

  Cheryl knew where this was going. Lexus didn’t want the woman to think the house was unsanitary, and she didn’t want her to think she’d tidied up the house at the very last moment for her inspection, so she was stuck. So was Cheryl. It seemed the truth was the only option.

  “I was standing here and turned to see a lovely cardinal fly by, knocking the urn with my elbow,” Lexus said. She blanched as she realized her mistake.

  “An urn, as in the thing that holds a person’s remains?” Brenda Lee inquired.

  “Uh, well, yes, but in this case it’s only baking soda because…” Lexus was stuck again.

  “It’s baking soda because we lost my mom’s real ashes so the baking soda is in remembrance of her,” Pen said. “Please sit down.”

  “You lost her ashes?” Brenda Lee said, raising a green eyebrow.

  For a fleeting second, Cheryl wondered if she dyed her snatch to match.

  “Well…” Lexus began.

  “My mother ended up in Pauper’s Field, but we have this to remind us of her,” Pen said.

  Cheryl concluded that the truth was best and let it go. She hoped Lexus would do the same.

  Pen poured the baking soda back from the dustpan into the urn and set it up on the mantel. “All good, no worries. Would you like to
see my room?”

  “Sure, I’d like that a lot,” Brenda Lee said.

  She and Pen left. Lexus crumpled down on the couch. She put her head in her hands. “Oh, my God, I’ve already messed this up so badly.”

  “It’s fine. The woman has green hair and eyebrows.”

  “What does that have to do with anything?” Lexus said, raising her head.

  “It means she can’t be all that stodgy.”

  “I shouldn’t have dyed my hair and looked prissy. I could’ve been my normal self. What kind of a heartless universe does this to a person?” She was nearly in tears.

  Cheryl put her arm around her shoulders. “You have to relax. It’s going to be fine. I’ll get the tea and cookies, okay?”

  Lexus nodded morosely.

  “So,” said Brenda Lee, returning with Pen from her room, “according to your information, they have always paid their taxes, they have a stable relationship, they can supply work and personal references and they are both in good health.”

  “Yes. They aren’t married, not yet, but it says you don’t have to be married to adopt a kid,” Pen said. “And I’m sure once the law says they can get married they will because they have such a stable relationship and all that.”

  “It looks like someone has thoroughly read the Guide to Adoption.” Brenda Lee winked at Cheryl and Lexus. Pen blushed. They sat down.

  “I have tea and coffee,” Lexus said, pointing to the tray Cheryl had brought and set on the coffee table.

  “Oh, yes, and are those Lorna Doones?” Brenda Lee said.

  “They are. Would you like one?” Lexus said.

  Cheryl could tell Lexus was getting her confidence back. She put six Lorna Doones on a plate and handed them to Brenda Lee.

  “Oh, thank you. I’ll have tea with cream and two sugars,” Brenda Lee said.

  Lexus poured and handed the cup over with the cream and sugar.

  They’d bought the matching set of Royal Doulton, the Albert Rose pattern, so that everything would “look perfect and like we have money,” Lexus had said. To which Cheryl replied, “I’m a doctor. We have money.”

  “I know that, but we want her to know that.”