Brenda

by Lee Ellis

  “Alright, let me put it this way. I don’t get that feeling from her that I get with, well, some other girls, you know. That kind of special feeling.”

  “You mean an erection? I thought we just went over that.”

  “No, not an erection. That elation, that feeling that you’re floating. The feeling of wanting to be around somebody so bad and being terrified of being in their presence at the same time. See, you don’t know the feeling because you aren’t a romantic. You’re just a poonhound looking for poon.”

  Rock shook his head. “No, I know exactly the feeling you’re talking about. Good old Rock’s been around the block a few times. You know what that feeling is? It’s infatuation. It’s not love. It feels like love, but it isn’t.”

  “So? What’s wrong with that?”

  “It doesn’t last dude. I can’t count the number of times I’ve been in love, but when you sober up, you realize it’s just empty. There is no happily ever after.”

  “I don’t care. That’s what I want, a woman to fall in love with. I’m looking for a special someone who takes my breath away, and I don’t care what anyone else says. We’ll make it last.”

  “What are you? Gay?” Rock chuckled. Seriously, does no one in this book understand the concept of gay? “Whatever, dude. Go for it.”

  “I will. Because I believe in love.” Alright, I’m willing to admit that last line was a little gay.

  “But what is love, dude? Really?”

  “Two people meet, are hopelessly attracted to each other, then get together and spend the rest of their lives together. I mean, I guess.”

  “I’m telling you dude, if you’re hopelessly attracted to someone right off the bat, it’s not going to last.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because you don’t know them. You’re attracted not to a person but to a figure and an idea you have in your head. By all means go for it. It’s a great ride. But it’s not love.”

  “You really want me to end up with Lucy, don’t you?”

  Rock shrugged. “I think it’d be nice. And I don’t see why not. You have someone you enjoy being with on a personal level and who you’re sexually attracted to. What more could you ask for?”

  “To fall in love.”

  “People don’t fall in love, Jacob. They settle.”

  “You sound like Reginald right now.”

  “Who’s Reginald?”

  “Never mind. Anyway, when did you become all relationship loving?”

  “I don’t know. I guess it’s just this thing with Nancy, you know. I never realized before, but it’s nice to have somebody. Someone you can both hang out with and have sex with. And I think you could have that with Lucy. That’s all I’m saying.”

  “I guess that’s all you can ask for. Anyway, I have to get heading out. I’ll see you later.”

  As he rode the elevator back up to his apartment, Jacob pulled out his phone and texted Lucy, “Lunch tm?”

  Chapter 17-Jacob Makes an Important Compromise.

  “Hey Jacob,” Lucy said, putting her purse down and pulling out her seat, which Jacob would have done for her, had he not been a jackass. Jackass didn’t even stand up. “What’s up?”

  “Nothing,” Jacob said, coughing nervously. “Did you bring the package?”

  “What package?” Lucy asked, being confused by the inanity of the question.

  “The package package.”

  “Jacob, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “You don’t know about the package?”

  “No. Obviously not.”

  “So, then I am to understand there is no package?”

  “I guess not,” Lucy shrugged.

  “Who sent you?”

  “Alright, I’m leaving,” Lucy said, collecting her purse and pushing her chair back, her purse in hand. “This was a mistake.”

  “No, wait,” Jacob said, reaching for Lucy’s hand, but grabbing her purse instead. “I’m sorry. Please, sit down.”

  “Fine,” Lucy said, placing her purse back on the table. Man, I’m mentioning the purse a lot. Must be something to it, huh. Maybe it’s the package. Maybe it will somehow become important later in this scene. One thing’s for sure, it’s Chekhov’s fricking gun, so be on the lookout for what happens with the purse. “Now, what do you want?”

  Jacob sighed. “This isn’t easy for me to say.”

  “Oh my God. You have cancer?”

  “What? No.”

  “And it’s in your testicles?”

  “Wait, what’s going on here?”

  “So, you only have three months to live? Have you told your parents yet?”

  “I don’t like this. Please stop.”

  Lucy reached out and patted Jacob on the shoulder. “Of course you don’t, Jacob. Nobody likes cancer. But you’re very brave, because being brave means facing things when you have no choice in the matter. Now, I’d be honored to call your parents and break the news for you.”

  Lucy took out her phone and began to dial since she didn’t have Jacob’s parents saved as contacts, but somehow had their number memorized, but Jacob swatted the phone away.

  “Jacob, that wasn’t very brave of you.”

  “That’s because I’m not brave, alright. Soldiers are brave. Firefighters are brave. Policeman are brave. And racist, but that’s not the point. The point is that I’m not brave.”

  “Oh, Jacob, I think cancer survivors are very brave.”

  “I’m not a cancer survivor.”

  “Oh, right, the cancer is still in your nutsack. Well, I think you’re brave anyway.”

  “I don’t fucking have cancer,” Jacob screamed at the top of his lungs, because that seems to be the generic expression to use here.

  “Well, la-dee fricking da for you. I don’t have carcinomic dystrophy, but you don’t hear me bragging. Now shut the fuck up, so I can eat my lunch,” said some random dude who I don’t know, but would like to.

  “Jacob, why would you put me through such a scare? What the hell is wrong with you?”

  “Jesus fucking Christ,” Jacob said, rubbing his temples. “Is this what I’m like?”

  “So then why did you invite me here?” Lucy asked judgily, like a judgy shrew, or whatever animal is the most judgmental. Unless it’s a bobcat, in which case she looked like the second-most judgmental animal, because her features were distinctly un-bobcat like. And I’m aware that ‘judgy’ and ‘judgily’ aren’t actually words, because I do have spell check, but I’m not changing them. On account of I like them. Fuck you.

  “Oh, right. I wanted to tell you something.”

  “You’re gay! Oh, Jacob, that’s wonderful. I’ve always wanted a gay best friend to pal around with and show everyone how progressive I am. It’s the perfect accessory.”

  “Seriously, how do people put up with me? Now stop it, this is my thing.”

  “And don’t worry about coming out at the office. I’ll let everyone know. Except David, because he’ll make a big deal about it and make it all about him, and we don’t need that. You’re my gay best friend. Fuck David.”

  “Lucy, knock it off.”

  “It’s too bad about the cancer though. We’ll have to get all our gay best friending done before the chemo kicks in, because once your hair falls out, you’re going to look horrendous.”

  “If I’m your best friend, why didn’t you bring my package?”

  Lucy’s face fell serious, like a serious animal that’s not a bobcat, which is alright because I don’t think bobcats are that serious to begin with. Though her face wasn’t that serious, so maybe only like the third-most serious animal, which I’m still pretty sure isn’t a bobcat. It could be though. I don’t know much about bobcats, to be honest. Certainly not enough to rate them on their seriousness, though hopefully it isn’t third.

  “Alright, Jacob, I’m done fucking around with you. What is it?”

  Jacob sighed. “Remember when you said you liked me and wanted a relationship?”

&
nbsp; Lucy leaned forward with anticipation, grasping her purse. “Yes.”

  “You remember that restaurant we ate at?”

  “Yes, Jacob.”

  “Well, do you think maybe you left my package there?”

  Lucy snatched her purse and started to storm out, but Jacob managed to soothe her before she did.

  “Calm down, calm down,” Jacob said soothingly. “I was just joking in a soothing fashion.”

  “That’s the problem with you, Jacob, you’re always joking. That, and the homosexual dick cancer.”

  “Right, woman who forgot to bring my package. And who made me a janitor.”

  “An alcoholic janitor.”

  The two smiled at each other, and oh my God was this getting disgusting. Let’s cut all this girly lovey bullshit and make Jacob just get to the chase.

  “Anyway, you know, I was thinking that, maybe, if you still wanted to,” Jacob said, not understanding what was meant by cut to the chase. “Fine. I was thinking that we should try dating.”

  “I don’t know, Jacob. You’re kind of a dick.”

  “Yeah, so? Did you not know that when you said you liked me earlier?”

  “No, I knew that. It’s kind of hard to miss.”

  “I thought that was part of the reason you liked me.”

  “It is.”

  “So? What’s the problem?”

  “Oh, there is no problem. I just wanted to remind you of that.”

  The two kissed, then Lucy picked up her purse and they walked out together.

  “Hey, Jacob, what’s up?” Rock’s voice greeted Jacob as he walked through the door of his apartment building.

  “Oh, not much,” said Jacob. “I asked Lucy out today.”

  “Really?” Rock said scratching his head, because that’s what people do to convey confusion. “You like Lucy?”

  “What? Yeah, sort of. Rock we talked about this.”

  “We did?”

  “Multiple times.”

  Rock laughed like an unknowing douchebag who had no idea what was going on in his best friend’s life. “I don’t think so, dude, but whatever. Anyway, what did she say?”

  “She said yes,” Jacob said, wishing that he had a better, less self-absorbed friend to share this moment with.

  “Hey man, congratulations. You must be pretty stoked.”

  “Not really,” Jacob said, shaking his head. “I mean, yes, obviously, but there was never really any question about it.”

  “Haha. Somebody’s a little full of themselves, aren’t they, Romulus?” Rock said with a cluck and a playful punch to the shoulder.

  “No, I, uh, Romulus? What the fuck is a Romulus?” Jacob asked, not knowing who the legendary founder of Rome was, though this clearly isn’t who Rock was referencing. Unless Jacob had been birthed by a she-wolf, which I don’t think he was. I’m pretty sure of that, in fact.

  “You know, the lady killer from that play where the two kids make out and then kill each other. Presumably because they’re kids, and kids do stupid shit.”

  “Uh, right, whatever.”

  “Ohhh, you never heard of it. Who’s the dumbass now?” asked the dumbass. Now.

  “Uh, sure, you are. Anyway, as I was saying, of course she said yes. She’d told me before that she liked me.”

  “Like liked you?”

  “What are you, fucking twelve, you immature idiot?”

  “Dude, I’m not an immature idiot.”

  “What’s up, my immature idiot?” Nancy asked, coming up from behind Rock and wrapping her arms around him, kissing his neck.

  “Nothing, my honey snugger. Oh, guess who has a girlfriend?” Rock asked, obnoxiously cooing.

  “You do, silly.”

  “No, idiot,” Rock said, catching himself when Nancy drew back in shock. “I said no, iceling.”

  “That makes no sense.”

  “Sure it does. You’re just tired.”

  “Hmm. Anyway, who has a girlfriend?”

  “Jacob.”

  “You do?” Nancy said turning to Jacob with more excitement than a tangential character who barely knew him had a right to be feeling right now, and which was frankly a little off putting to Jacob. “Is it Lucy?”

  “No, moron, it’s… oh wait, yeah, it is Lucy. How’d you know?” Jacob asked.

  “She’s been hoping for this for a while, silly,” Nancy said, since apparently silly was her new thing. “Oh my god, she must be so happy. I’ve got to text her.”

  “Who must be so happy?” Janelle asked, stepping off the elevator.

  “Lucy. Jacob finally asked her out,” Nancy said since it was her news to tell.

  “Oh. Congratulations, Jacob.”

  “Thanks,” Jacob said. “Hey, were you all hanging out or something?”

  “What do you mean?” asked Janelle.

  “Well, it’s just kind of weird running into you here.”

  “Why is it weird? Oh, wait, you still haven’t figured out that I live here, have you?”

  “You do?”

  “Yes.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “Seriously. I do.”

  “Oh,” said Jacob awkwardly. “I’m going to leave now.”

  “So, how’d it go, sir? Did you chicken out again?” Reginald asked, being a bit more of a wise ass than somebody should generally be to their employer, but I guess that was just his way of keeping it real. By being needlessly dickish to somebody with the authority and the right to make important decisions in his life.

  “What are you talking about, Reginald? I was going to ask Lucy out.”

  “I know, sir. I was referring to the Christmas party.”

  “It was a New Year’s party, Reginald, and I did kiss Lucy at that party. I kissed the shit out of her.”

  “Sounds kinky, sir.”

  “Shut the hell up, Reginald.”

  “But seriously, sir, are you and Ms. Fontaine now a couple?”

  “Well, I asked her out, so I suppose that’s a yes. Still not too excited about it though.”

  “Why not, sir? It sounds like you two will make an excellent couple.”

  “Yeah, I don’t know,” Jacob said, placing a couple of ice cubes in a glass and pouring himself a scotch. “I mean, Lucy’s great and all, it’s just, I don’t know.”

  “What is it, sir?” Reginald asked, pulling up a fatherly seat next to Jacob and placing a hand on his shoulder. The way he pulled up the seat was fatherly, not the seat itself. Is what I meant.

  “I thought I’d feel differently, you know? I expected to feel happy, like a stripper with a dick in her mouth. Instead, I just feel kind of empty.”

  “Why do you think that is, sir?” asked Reginald, apparently a fucking psychotherapist all of a sudden.

  “I guess, I guess, it’s just that, you know, you see all those movies, and in the end when they end up together, it’s all sunshine and rainbows, and they are so happy. Instead, I just feel kind of content. I guess I just expected more, is all.”

  “That was your first mistake, sir. Expecting too much out of life.”

  “That’s really depressing, Reginald. That’s depressing like a fat-person-shoving-chocolate-in-their-face-while-they-cry-about-how-no-one-will-ever-love-them-because-they’re-too-fat level of depressing.”

  “Perhaps, sir, but life often is.” Jacob sighed and sipped his scotch, and Reginald decided he better step up the arm chair therapy. “If I may offer another perspective, sir. You and Ms. Fontaine have been getting along marvelously of late, have you not?”

  “Yeah, so? What’s your point?”

  “My point is that you know that the two of you will get along without any sexual component. The passion goes out of every relationship at some point, and you know that when that happens, you too will still want to be together. Because there never was any passion in your relationship.”

  “Is that supposed to make me feel better, Reginald?”

  “Yes, sir, because you’ve found something that few people ever f
ind. They jump from passionate fling to passionate fling, and move on looking for something better once the honeymoon ends. You, sir, have found someone who you legitimately enjoy being with, someone who will be a best friend for life.”

  Jacob shrugged. “And she’s rich.”

  “And she’s rich, sir,” Reginald said, growing more excited in the hopes that Jacob would mirror his reaction. “You may not have found love, but you have found an ideal marriage partner and somebody to spend the rest of your life with. And I think that’s wonderful.”

  “No, Reginald,” Jacob said, sipping his scotch. “That’s alright.”

  A year and a half later, Brenda opened up her mailbox to find a letter she had been expecting for a long time. The expectation did nothing to ease the blow, which hit her in the gut like a big fist full of suck and turned her lukewarm mood shitty. I’m not great with descriptions. Picking up her cute little dog, she nuzzled his furry little head in the way that people are wont to do with things that are cute and furry.

  “People are the worst, aren’t they Romeo? You’ll never disappoint me, will you? No, you won’t, because then I won’t feed you, will I, you little shit?”

  She smiled at the older lady waiting for the lift with her, but stuck her tongue out at her behind her back as she pressed the button for the second floor. What the fuck? Have you ever heard of stairs, you miserable old bat? You’re not that old, so fucking walk. I hope you have a bloody heart attack.

  She exited the lift (note the authentic Aussie slang there? Because the section’s told from Brenda’s point of view. Slick, huh?) and opened the door to her apartment. She tossed the letter on the counter and plopped down on her couch. Seriously, what is it with kids and the couch flop?

  “What is it, dearie?” asked her matronly Maid Mary. It’s late and I just added this character, like, right fucking now, okay? So cut me some slack on the name. Asshole.

  “It’s official.”

  “Is this about that boy you like, dearie?” asked matronly Maid Mary whose thing was saying dearie all the time. By the way, if there’s an award for most clichéd character, we have a candidate right here. Not saying nominate her, just saying she should win. And you should nominate her.