‘Indeed indeed!’ said Beatrice, and giggled.
‘What’s so funny?’ Midge finished her water and set the glass down on the counter. It made a resounding thut in the now-quiet kitchen.
‘Work is funny!’ Dan cranked up the heat under his peas. ‘Life is funny! Hot damn, you want to talk about comedy?’
‘What my husband is trying to say,’ said Beatrice, ‘is that your husband’s career is in fantastic shape. Just super.’
Midge’s brow creased. ‘But I thought you told me your job was on the line,’ she said to Pulpy.
‘And it is!’ Dan said quickly, scowling at Beatrice. ‘It is absolutely on the line. Now, who wants to eat?’
‘I do!’ Beatrice raised her hand and the sleeve of her kimono slid down to expose her long arm.
‘Are you hungry, Midge?’ said Pulpy.
‘I guess a little,’ she said.
‘What you need is another aperitif!’ said Dan.
‘I’d better not,’ said Midge. ‘I’m feeling a bit lightheaded.’
‘Are you kidding me? A light head is what you want! Who wants a heavy, fat old head?’
‘Not me, that’s for sure!’ said Beatrice, and inhaled another Jell-O shooter.
‘You don’t have to if you don’t want to, Midge,’ said Pulpy.
‘No, no, I do want to.’ Midge plucked a red cup off the tray. ‘Just as long as I keep drinking water, then I suppose there’s no harm.’
‘Listen to that!’ said Beatrice. ‘She’s a regular Buddha, our Midge!’
‘And might I add a gorgeous Buddha,’ said Dan, ‘without all that pudge he’s got. But still with the curves – she’s got those in spades!’
Midge blushed.
‘And Buddha’s Chinese, which fits with our international theme!’ said Beatrice.
‘Speaking of which, wait until you see the dining room,’ said Dan.
‘I’ll escort them in,’ said Beatrice. ‘You take care of the pork.’
Pulpy and Midge followed her into the dining room, which was dark. Beatrice produced a book of matches from the folds of her kimono and lit several candles and an incense pyramid on the liquor cabinet. In the resulting glow they could see a number of afghans tacked to the wall, and four small woven mats arranged around one larger mat in the centre of the floor.
‘Where’s the table?’ said Midge.
‘That’s the exciting part,’ said Beatrice. ‘There is no table! Well, we moved it into the garage. Don’t you think it’s like Arabian nights in here? Now all we need is a belly dancer. And if I have enough to drink you might even get one!’ Beatrice flung her arms into the air and undulated in a circle for them. ‘Now make yourselves comfortable and we’ll join you momentarily.’
Pulpy and Midge eased themselves onto their knees and watched Beatrice shimmy out of the room.
‘How are you doing, Midge?’ said Pulpy.
‘I feel flushed.’ She pressed her hands to her cheeks. ‘Am I flushed?’
He peered at her. ‘I can’t tell in this light.’
She shrugged. ‘It’s not a bad feeling. It’s kind of nice, actually.’
He rested a hand on the hem of her slacks, which had hiked up to expose her pantyhose-clad calves. ‘Just let me know if the feeling stops being nice, okay?’
She cocked her head at him, and then their hosts bustled in with steaming dishes and the shooter tray.
Dan distributed the plates in a crouch, and Midge averted her eyes as his kurta rode up to a precarious level just below his groin. ‘Something wrong, Midge?’ He grinned at her. ‘You’re not fooling me.’
‘What are you talking about, Dan?’ said Pulpy.
‘I’ve seen this woman put away a pitcher of mojitos like a frat boy. There’s no way she’s drunk off two shots!’
Beatrice thrust the Jell-O shooters at Midge and Pulpy. ‘Then let’s have more!’
Midge took one and said, ‘Those are nice candles, Beatrice.’
‘They are, aren’t they?’ Beatrice gave her a wide smile. ‘But from now on, you’re my candle supplier, missy!’
‘Burn it and earn it!’ Midge said, and downed her shooter.
Dan waggled his eyebrows, and Pulpy pointedly avoided the orange cups and went for a green one.
‘Ooh, my employee’s feeling feisty!’ said Dan.
Pulpy frowned and swallowed hard, forcing the last of the sweet slime down his throat.
When Dan and Beatrice had arranged themselves on the other two mats and everyone had food in front of them, Midge smiled politely and said, ‘I think I’m missing my cutlery.’
‘We all are!’ said Dan.
‘That’s another exciting thing,’ said Beatrice. ‘We’re going to eat with our hands! What do you think about that?’
‘Hmm,’ said Midge.
‘It’s easy – watch me!’ Dan balanced some peas on a slice of pot roast and fit everything into his mouth.
‘Oops, I forgot something!’ Beatrice stood up, her kimono parting slightly.
This time it was Pulpy’s turn to avert his eyes, but the vodka in his system had slowed his reaction time. He looked away a beat too late and the white flash of their hostess’s upper thighs nearly blinded him.
Dan winked and Pulpy glanced at Midge, but she was using her thumb to mash a red shooter into a green one.
‘Do you think if I mix red and green together I’ll get grape?’ She giggled.
‘Ho-ho, that’s the spirit, Midge!’ said Dan.
She furrowed her brow at the two colours. ‘Or is that red and blue?’
‘So, Dan,’ said Pulpy. ‘About my job.’
‘Yes!’ Dan’s expression went grave. ‘Yes.’
Midge downed the thick, swampy mess she’d made and looked between them. The air swirled with incense smoke.
‘The bottom line,’ said Dan, ‘is that you’ve got productivity, and then you’ve got the opposite of productivity.’
Pulpy rested his hands on his folded knees. ‘Are you saying I’m not productive?’
‘Whoa, whoa. Not quite.’ Dan held up a gravy-speckled hand. ‘I’m not speaking in absolutes here.’
The three of them sat there, their faces shadowy with candlelight, and then the thumping of tribal drums filled the room.
‘I’m back!’ Beatrice swooped in and sat down with another plate, its contents obscured by a cloth napkin. ‘I can’t believe I almost forgot this and the rest of the ambience!’
‘Is that a world-music compilation you put on?’ said Pulpy.
‘It certainly is. My, don’t you have an ear!’ Beatrice closed her eyes and swayed to the beat.
‘Pulpy knows his music.’ Midge said, and smiled at him.
Pulpy smiled back.
‘I like this.’ Midge rocked a little from side to side. ‘It’s rhythmic.’
‘It’s no Winter Flute,’ said Dan.
Beatrice opened her eyes and scowled at him. ‘You and your woodwinds.’
He scowled back and made a flapping-mouth motion with one hand.
‘Anyway.’ Beatrice took a deep breath and smiled at Pulpy and Midge. ‘So Dan and I went to an Ethiopian restaurant once, and –’
‘The food sucked,’ said Dan.
She glared at him briefly, and went on. ‘The food itself was awful, completely inedible. Honestly, I don’t know how those people live. But they had this one thing – they used this pancake-type bread to scoop everything up. So I thought, why don’t we try that at home? But I couldn’t find the recipe, so I got the next-best thing.’ She whisked off the napkin to reveal a stack of pale waffles underneath. ‘Besides, I bet if they had frozen waffles in Ethiopia they’d use them instead. All you have to do is pop them in the toaster!’
‘It’s certainly creative,’ said Midge.
‘Do you think so? I tell Dan all the time that I have a creative streak but he doesn’t believe me. The problem is I just don’t have enough avenues. That’s why I’m doing the front-desk makeover.’
; Midge smirked a little. ‘And what does the receptionist think of that?’
‘Nothing.’ Beatrice shrugged. ‘She’s gone. You mean Pulpy didn’t tell you?’
The two women stared at him, and he squirmed. ‘I thought I told her.’
‘Well, you didn’t,’ said Midge.
Pulpy looked down at his feet in their thin brown socks, the pair that always left a pattern on his skin.
‘What happened?’ said Midge. ‘Why did she leave?’
‘She didn’t leave,’ said Beatrice. ‘She was dismissed.’
Midge’s eyes widened. ‘Why?’
‘Inappropriate emails,’ said Dan. ‘Among other things.’
Pulpy jerked his head up.
Midge picked up a waffle. ‘I can’t say I’m surprised.’
‘Nobody was,’ said Beatrice. ‘She was a very shoddy secretary.’
Midge washed down a large bite of waffle-supported pot roast with another Jell-O shooter. ‘This is like a picnic!’ she said.
‘It’s not a picnic, Midge,’ said Beatrice. ‘It’s Persian.’
‘Ladies!’ said Dan. ‘Why don’t we all just take our plates into the living room? I’m cramping up down here, anyway.’
‘I’m easy,’ said Midge, and hiccupped.
‘Ho-ho! Let’s get out there, then!’ Dan stood and offered Midge his hand. She took it, and he hauled her to her feet.
Pulpy stood up on his own and almost lost his balance.
‘Head rush!’ Beatrice laughed, and grabbed him before he fell over.
The two pairs made their unsteady way into the living room, and then Beatrice sat next to Pulpy on the sectional and Dan sat next to Midge on the divan.
‘My, aren’t we a merry bunch!’ Beatrice reached over and set the shooter tray on the coffee table.
Midge was looking around the room. ‘Did you find a home for that plant we gave you?’
Pulpy looked at Dan.
‘You know, I’m not exactly sure where I put it,’ said Beatrice. ‘But I can tell you it’s thriving, wherever it is.’
‘Oh, good.’ Midge nodded. ‘I’m glad.’
‘Does anyone else find it dry in here?’ Beatrice stood up. ‘My skin feels as tight as these jungle drums!’
‘That reminds me,’ said Midge. ‘I should probably have some more water.’
‘In the desert they just eat lots of salt,’ said Dan.
‘Then maybe I should have some of that too!’ said Midge.
‘Ha!’ Dan pointed at Pulpy. ‘Didn’t I say she’s a firecracker?’
Pulpy chased some peas around with his waffle. The tiny green spheres rolled across his plate and bumped into each other. ‘You did.’
Beatrice wobbled toward the doorway. ‘I’ll be right back.’
‘Watch this, Midge!’ Dan aimed the remote at the fireplace and the hearth flared to life.
Midge pressed her hands against her cheeks. ‘I like your fire a lot, Dan.’
‘It’s not as nice as ours,’ said Pulpy quietly.
‘What was that, Pulpy?’ said Dan.
‘I said it’s not as nice as ours. Our fire at home.’
‘I didn’t think you had one.’
‘We don’t,’ said Midge. ‘It’s a video fire.’
Pulpy’s shoulders sagged. ‘I thought you said we weren’t supposed to call it that.’
‘Oops!’ She covered her mouth.
‘A fire on TV is no match for real flames!’ said Dan, wielding the remote. ‘Ho-ho, get it? Match? Speaking of which …’
‘Here I am!’ Beatrice floated back in, brandishing a bottle of lotion. ‘Oh, Midge, I forgot your water. Why don’t you just have another Jell-O shooter instead?’
‘Okay.’ Midge took one. The shiny red contents jiggled, and she tossed her head back and swallowed the entire thing whole. ‘These are really good.’
‘You too, Pulpy.’ Beatrice sat next to him again. ‘We can’t have you falling behind, now, can we?’
Pulpy took a green one and held it in front of his nose. The gelatin quivered.
‘Go ahead.’ Beatrice squeezed his knee. ‘Put your tongue right in.’
The alcohol smell was strong. He held his breath and did the shot. He felt the cool mouthful slide down his throat, and the room wavered.
‘Now, here’s something I wanted to show Midge.’ Beatrice held up the lotion bottle and depressed the nozzle, and a wad of golden goop shot out and landed in her open palm. ‘It’s peach spray lotion!’ She massaged it into the skin of her arm with languorous circles.
‘How can you spray a lotion?’ Midge snorted, and then she was laughing. Laughing away on the divan next to Pulpy’s boss. ‘Can you make the fire bigger, Dan?’
‘You bet!’ Dan punched a button and the flames shot up with a whoosh.
Pulpy was sweating. He leaned forward and moisture slithered down his back.
‘Come on, Pulpy.’ Beatrice slid her glistening arm under his nose. ‘Take a whiff.’
Undigested waffle and peas and jerk pot roast sloshed around in his stomach, and he set his dish down on the floor.
‘Ooh, you nearly cleaned your plate!’ she said. ‘I hope you saved room for my baked Alaska!’
‘Hooo! Are we in the Sahara here? Because I am h-o-t!’ Dan flapped his hem up and down to make a breeze, then leaned toward Midge. ‘But this lady here is an oasis. Look at you – I just want to dive right in.’
Beatrice shook her head and in a low voice said, ‘Dan.’
‘Midge, if you think that fire over there is nice, wait until you see this!’ With a jump Dan propelled himself off the couch and turned so he was facing her.
Pulpy opened his mouth but no sound came out. The already thick air seemed to congeal around him and he sunk further into the deep suede of the sectional.
And then Dan undid his kurta.
‘Dan!’ shouted Beatrice.
Dan let the tunic fall and the rich fabric slid down, down, down, and then he wasn’t wearing anything at all.
Pulpy sat looking at his boss’s broad naked back and bulbous naked rump, and there, curling around and over him, was a long lick of red and orange and yellow burning across his bare skin. ‘I’m on fire, Midge,’ said his boss. ‘Put me out!’
Nobody moved. Nobody said another word. And then Midge reached a tentative, drunken hand toward the tattoo and pulled it back again, and she looked away and looked back, and Pulpy was so very far from her, acres of hardwood away and now Beatrice’s right breast was in front of him, slicing out from the folds of her kimono. ‘Touch it,’ she said. ‘It’s yours to touch.’ Her fly-away strands of hair writhed.
And now Dan was reaching for the buttons of Midge’s paisley top, those funny swirling shapes all over her, and now Beatrice’s kimono was wide open and there was all of her underneath, gleaming at Pulpy, and now Midge was staring straight ahead with big, big unfocused eyes.
She pushed herself back against the couch, away from Dan, and Pulpy nudged Beatrice aside. He hadn’t even realized his shirt was gaping open, exposing his concave chest with Midge’s love line, which was starting to grow back now, and he stood up and then he was across the room already, in fewer steps than he thought it would take. He laid a hand on his boss’s pink shoulder – there were a few dark hairs on it, and the skin was warm – and said in a loud, clear voice, ‘That’s enough, Dan.’
The large shoulder muscles bunched under his smallish palm. ‘What did you say?’
‘I said we’re leaving. Come on, Midge. Let’s get out of here.’
Midge stood up and blinked, and took a deep breath like she was coming up for air.
Behind him, Beatrice yelled at Dan, ‘Idiot! What did I say? We didn’t even get to dessert! I told you you were moving too fast!’
‘And another thing.’ Pulpy reached into his pocket and groped for the pager. He took out the small, black rectangle and tossed it onto the coffee table. ‘I don’t want this anymore.’
Midge rubbed her face and wa
lked over to him, pausing in front of Beatrice on the way. ‘I’m going to need my clamdiggers back,’ she said.
‘Sure.’ Beatrice lay on the sectional with the overripe peach smell coming off her in waves. ‘I’ll bring them into the office.’
With his back still facing them, Dan shook his huge head slowly from side to side. ‘You’re making a big mistake here, Pulpy.’
Pulpy opened Dan and Beatrice’s front door, and smiled a little. ‘I don’t think I am, actually.’
Dan breathed a long, loud breath out of his nose.
‘Pulpy,’ said Midge, ‘what about our coats?’
‘We’ll get them tomorrow,’ he said. ‘Dan can bring them into the office for us.’
‘Yeah, sure.’ Dan snorted. ‘But I think you’re forgetting it’s winter outside.’
‘Well, it’ll be spring soon.’ Pulpy put his arm around Midge, and smiled wider when he saw that her scallops were starting to grow back. She put her arm around him too, and on their way out the door Pulpy said, ‘I’ll see you tomorrow, Dan.’
‘Uh huh.’ His boss stood there with his thick arms at his sides. ‘See you tomorrow.’
‘I’m getting sleepy,’ Midge had said near the end of their first date.
They were in Pulpy’s apartment, sitting on his bedroom floor with music playing in the background.
The Fancy Guppy he’d bought her earlier that day was doing laps in Pulpy’s favourite mug, from college.
‘Listen to this chord,’ said Pulpy. ‘It’s a really good chord.’
‘You music people,’ she said. ‘All chords and trebles and clefs.’ She pointed to a pen and the notebook he used for song ideas, sitting nearby. ‘Would you please hand me that paper and pen there?’
He gave them to her.
‘Thank you.’ She balanced the notepad on her knee and took the pen in her right hand. She flipped to an empty page and wrote ‘Pulpy’ in a careful, looping script. Then she switched to her left.
He watched her write his name the same way with her other hand, and when she was finished he held up the paper with the two ‘Pulpy’s on it and admired the way she had put equal flourishes on both sets of P’s. Then he said, ‘If you’re tired, I have a bed you could sleep in.’
Pulpy and Midge Page 21