Girlfriends

by Patrick Sanchez

  Peter returned the greeting and gave Cameron a quick once-over. It was the first time Peter had seen her in several weeks. He heard through the rumor mill that she had taken some time off after the screen-saver incident. Cameron’s demeanor had changed since the last time he saw her. Peter couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but something was different. Her shoulders weren’t back as far, or her head wasn’t as high. Even the smile she gave him was missing the energy that annoyed Peter so much.

  Peter felt obligated to sit next to her and lowered himself into an empty chair.

  “How have you been?”

  “I’m hanging in there,” Cameron said in a resigned tone. “It’s been a tough couple of weeks.”

  “I can imagine. I’m so sorry. I heard what happened. It’s unbelievable.”

  Cameron tried to smile at Peter in response to his sympathy but, instead, began to well up. “I don’t understand why someone would do that to me,” she said, trying to keep herself from crying. “How am I going to face anyone in the office?”

  Peter looked at Cameron, and his heart dropped to the floor. He felt a sudden deep sense of regret for his actions. Feeling like an absolute heel, he lifted his hand and lightly touched her upper arm. Cameron looked down to the floor as tears started to drip from her eyes.

  “Sometimes I feel like I’m losing my mind. I’ve been getting these hang-up calls at all hours of the night. I’m afraid to fall asleep because I don’t know what terrible thing awaits me the next day. I get all these phone calls from strange people—doctors I’ve never heard of, psychic healers, movers. Someone is just torturing me. I can’t stand it anymore. That’s why I’m here, Peter. I need some help—some sedatives or something.”

  “It will be all right. People have already forgotten about the whole thing.”

  “Yeah, right,” Cameron said sarcastically, wiping the tears from her eyes. As she tried to compose herself in the chair, the receptionist called her name and said the doctor was ready to see her.

  “Cameron,” Peter called as she got up from the chair. “Wait.” He wanted to tell her it was him. That he was behind all the terrible things that had been happening to her. And, more important, that it was over. Strange things wouldn’t be happening to her anymore, and she could get on with her life. Yep, that’s what he wanted to tell her.

  “Cameron, I don’t know who would do such terrible things to you,” Peter lied. “But I do know one thing.”

  Cameron looked down at him. “What?”

  “I know that you’re stronger than this. Not that I know you very well at all. But I’ve seen you around. I’ve seen you in action. Where is that feisty young lady that got me in trouble for surfing the Net? You’re bigger than this freak, Cameron. If you let him . . . or her know that they’re getting to you, it will just entice them to keep it up.”

  “You’re probably right.”

  “Come on, let’s see a Cameron smile.”

  Cameron offered a reserved, almost shy smile, something Peter never would’ve guessed she was capable of.

  “Well, that will have to do for now.”

  Cameron’s smile brightened a little more. “Thank you, Peter. You’re very sweet.”

  “Think you might have time for lunch after your appointment?”

  “Sure. I guess so.”

  “All right, wait for me when you’re done. Will you?”

  “Okay. I could really use a friend today.”

  “Then it’s a date,” Peter said with a grin as he watched her walk back to the doctor’s office.

  Six Hundred a Month

  Shirley was just putting the finishing touches on her apartment. It was cleaner than it had been in years. She actually dusted with Pledge instead of just a damp cloth and borrowed a neighbor’s vacuum to clean the rug. The bed was made for the first time in months, and all the ashtrays in the house were empty and sparkling. Shirley was fluffing the lone pillow on the sofa, when there was a knock on the front door.

  “Hello,” Shirley said to the mature, silver-haired woman at the door.

  “Hi, I’m Dorothy from the agency.”

  “Nice to meet you. Shirley Perry,” Shirley said, introducing herself as she gestured for the social worker to come inside. “Please sit down.”

  “I’d love to, but how about I take a quick look at the apartment first. It’s important that I evaluate the apartment if you want to take in a foster child.”

  “Sure. Well, this is the living room. I like to read the classics in here. That’s my reading light over there,” Shirley lied as she led Dorothy toward the vacant bedroom and opened the door. “This is where my foster child would stay. It’s a great room . . . lots of light.”

  “There’s no furniture in here.”

  “Yes. I’m getting some,” Shirley lied again.

  “Really. When?”

  “Ah . . . I thought the kid and me could pick it out together.”

  “And what is the kid supposed to sleep on until you get this furniture?”

  The floor? “He can have my bed. I’ll sleep on the sofa.”

  “That will never do. You’ll have to get some furniture.”

  Well, give me my money, bitch, and I’ll get some. “Sure, I can do that. No problem.”

  “Do you smoke?” Dorothy asked. “It smells faintly of cigarettes in here.”

  “No, no, that’s from my old roommate, ah . . . ah . . . Chester. He was a smoker. Nice old man, smoking was his only vice. I took him in after his wife passed away. He lived with me for years until he finally passed on,” Shirley said, impressed with herself for being able to make up a story so quickly.

  “Really. What happened to his furniture?”

  “Ah . . . well . . . you know . . . you know, his greedy kids . . . yeah, his greedy kids didn’t want to be bothered with him when he was alive, but the moment he died, they descended on this place like it was a yard sale. They took everything.”

  “What a shame,” Dorothy said. “How about your room?”

  “My room?”

  “Yes, I’d like to see it.”

  “Okay,” Shirley said, leading the way. She opened the door to her bedroom, and Dorothy followed behind her. Dorothy took a long look around before holding her gaze on the ceiling.

  “Mirrors?” she asked Shirley.

  “Oh, those. This is so funny,” Shirley said, stalling for time. “I . . . I . . . I do yoga at night. I do it on the bed and use the mirrors to make sure I’m doing it right.”

  “Really,” Dorothy said in a questionable tone. “I practice yoga as well. Do you prefer Kundalini or Integral?”

  “Ah, I like that condelingi kind myself.”

  “The ashtray by the bed? Is that yours?”

  “Oh, no, no. That’s Chester’s. It’s the only thing I have left of his, so I keep it by the bed.”

  Following the bedroom tour, Shirley ushered Dorothy into the kitchen. After Dorothy perused the refrigerator filled with little more than beer, cold cuts, and a couple of sodas, Shirley realized it was probably over but agreed to sit in the living room with the social worker and fill out some paperwork. As they talked intermittently while Shirley completed the forms, someone knocked on the door.

  “Who is it?” Shirley asked.

  “It’s me, Shirley,” the voice called from the other side of the door.

  Shirley recognized the voice immediately. But it couldn’t be him. She hadn’t heard a word from him in months.

  “Excuse me,” she said to Dorothy and opened the door.

  “Collin,” she said.

  “Hi, honey. Can we talk?”

  “I have nothing to say to you.”

  “Shirley, please, may I come in?” Collin asked, stepping into the living room without letting Shirley answer. “I’m sorry. I never should’ve let you go. Screw my wife. I don’t care about her. I just want to be with you,” Collin said in a full voice, not noticing Dorothy on the sofa until it was too late.

  “This is obviously a private
moment,” Dorothy said, gathering her paperwork. “I’ll come back later.”

  “Great, Collin, just chase my guest away, not to mention six hundred bucks a month,” Shirley said to Collin after Dorothy walked out the door.

  “I don’t care about your guest. I just care about you. What do you say, Shirley? Can we try again?”

  “Hmmm . . . let me think . . . ah . . . FUCK NO, YOU FUCKING BASTARD! Does that answer your question?”

  “Shirley, just hear me out.”

  “I don’t have time for this, Collin. I’m a career girl now.”

  “A career girl?”

  “Yes, I have my own business,” she said, pulling out a business card and handing it to Collin. She grabbed a couple of leashes from the hook next to the door and stepped into the hallway with Collin following. “I’ve got dogs to walk.”

  “That’s great, Shirley, having your own business and all.”

  “Yeah, it is,” Shirley said, shutting the door to her apartment and heading toward the stairwell, leaving Collin behind.

  “Shirley?” Collin called behind her.

  She didn’t answer.

  Settling the Score

  “So your flight went well, Sophia?” Cheryl asked the elderly woman. She and Gina just picked Sophia up from the airport, and they were seated at a table at the Palm, a pricey steak house where beautiful people dined and power deals were brokered over large cuts of beef and jumbo lobsters. Gina and Cheryl had spared no expense. They flew Sophia in from Cleveland first class, put her up at the luxurious Hotel Washington, and were currently treating her to dinner at one of the more upscale restaurants in D.C. What did they care. After all, they had no intention of paying for any of it.

  “Oh, yes, dear. It was quite comfortable. I don’t get to fly very often,” she replied with just a hint of an Italian accent.

  “I’m so glad we were able to bring you here, so you could be involved in the festivities,” Gina said. “It’s so exciting.”

  “Yes, it is. I’m very happy to be here. When you reach my age, you don’t know how many more visits to the nation’s capital there will be.”

  “Oh, please,” Cheryl said. “You look healthy as a horse.”

  “I guess I can’t complain,” Sophia said before a waiter briefly interrupted their conversation.

  “Are you ladies ready to order?”

  “We’re waiting for one more person,” Gina said.

  “Okay, take your time. I’ll check back in a few minutes.”

  “Thank you. Actually, I think I might go check the lobby and see if he’s here,” Gina said, about to excuse herself from the table when she saw Griffin walk into the dining room. It wasn’t easy getting Griffin to agree to meet them. Gina first told him she had a business proposal for him, without offering any details. She figured curiosity would be enough to lure him to the restaurant, but he sharply rebuffed her invitation and reiterated that she wasn’t getting the films. After his refusal, she decided to sweeten the bait and contact him again. She explained that if she couldn’t get the films back, and if she and Cheryl were going to be the porn world’s latest darlings with or without their consent, then they might as well consider making a career of it. She expressed an interest in possibly shooting a real live adult film with him. She pictured him drooling as she proposed her and Cheryl’s lesbian sex scene. The mere thought of even being near Griffin again made her crazy, but she was determined to get him to the restaurant.

  Gina, who was facing the entrance, waved Griffin over to the table where Cheryl and Sophia had their backs to the door. Griffin glided over to the table and offered Gina a big smile—a smile that quickly turned into a perplexed look of surprise.

  “Griffin! It’s so good to see you,” Sophia said, standing up to hug him.

  “Mom! What are you doing here?” Griffin responded.

  “These lovely girls flew me in from Cleveland to surprise you, dear,” Sophia said to Griffin.

  “Oh, they did, did they? How did they find you?”

  “The Internet is full of information, Griffin. You of all people should know that,” Gina replied. “We called your mother a few days ago and told her all about your budding career.”

  “My career?” Griffin said, seeming slightly panicked.

  “Yes, we told her all about it, Griffin,” Cheryl said. “We wanted to bring her to town to celebrate your latest production.”

  “My latest production?” Griffin asked, clearly agitated.

  “You know, The Big G Cam you’re planning to launch.”

  “What’s The Big G Cam?” Sophia asked.

  “Should I tell her, Griffin? Should I tell her the short story about how The Big G Cam has to do with your job at PBS, or should I tell her the longer, more interesting version?” Gina threatened.

  “Is everything okay, Griffin?” Sophia asked. “I’m sorry. Maybe I shouldn’t have surprised you. I should have called.”

  “He’s fine, Sophia. He’s just nervous about the new Web site he’s planning to launch. You know, he plans to show clips from all his recent PBS documentaries. Don’t you, Griffin?”

  “I guess,” Griffin said, confused about how to respond.

  “In fact, Sophia,” Gina said, “we have some of his latest documentaries on video in the car. What do you say we go back to your room and pop a few of them in the VCR after dinner?”

  “That would be lovely, dear. I never get to see my son’s work.”

  “Mom, I’m sure you’re tired. We could do that some other time.”

  “I guess we could,” Gina said. “Actually, Cheryl and I would like to have two of your films back to do some final editing before they go on the Web.”

  “Editing?” Griffin said.

  “Yes. Well, who knows. We may take a look at them and decide they have no business in cyberspace and just destroy them.”

  “You girls are film editors?” Sophia asked.

  “Yes, we work very closely with Griffin,” Cheryl said to Sophia before arching toward Griffin. “What do you say, Griffin? Do we get the films?”

  “Yeah, Griffin,” Gina added. “Do we get the films?”

  “Griffin, give the nice girls the films already.”

  Looking baffled and defeated, Griffin relented. “Okay, girls, I’ll give you the films.”

  “Then it’s settled. Cheryl and I will meet you at PBS headquarters tonight after dinner.”

  “Does it have to be tonight?” Griffin asked.

  “Now, Griffin, we don’t want you to have any time to make extra copies.”

  “Fine. Tonight it is.”

  “So when do I get to see my son’s documentaries?”

  “Sophia, I think you’ll have to ask Griffin about that one. Why don’t we let you guys have a quiet dinner. Cheryl and I aren’t very hungry anyway.”

  “Yes, that would be nice,” Griffin said, irritated.

  “Good. We’ll meet you in a couple of hours, Griffin,” Cheryl said.

  “It was so nice to meet you ladies. Thanks so much for the plane tickets and the limo and that beautiful hotel suite.”

  “Don’t thank us. Griffin can expense it all and charge it to PBS. Right, Griffin?”

  Griffin sighed. “Right. Good night, ladies.”

  “Night,” Cheryl replied. “It was lovely to meet you, Sophia.”

  “Yes, it was,” Gina said before standing up and flicking off Griffin’s cap with her finger, exposing his bald head. She set his hat down on the table before adding, “And, Griffin, mere words can’t describe my feelings.”

  “The feeling is definitely mutual.”

  “Good-bye, Griffin,” Gina said with a superior grin—the grin of a chicken that just outsmarted a fox—a nasty, fat, obnoxious fox. Gina and Cheryl walked out of the restaurant with gloating smiles. The pompous little man had finally gotten his due, and they no longer had to worry about showing up on the Internet in all their glory. It was over. The whole saga was finally over!

  Griffin and Sophia watc
hed the girls leave the restaurant as the waiter approached the table.

  “Shall I wait for the young ladies to return?” the waiter asked.

  “No, they’re not coming back,” Sophia said. “How about a nice bottle of your finest champagne for me and my son.”

  “Do you believe those two?” Griffin asked his mother.

  “Yeah, that’s too funny. You know, they flew me in first class. It was fantastic. PBS—that’s hysterical.”

  “Mmm, I’m gonna get me some of that,” Griffin said as a platter of the Palm’s famous cottage fries went by. “And one of those,” he added, eyeing a three-pound lobster being carried to a neighboring table.

  “Are you celebrating a special event this evening?” the waiter asked, returning to the table and popping the cork on a bottle of champagne.

  “Most definitely,” Sophia said without elaborating.

  As the waiter walked off, Sophia whispered to Griffin. “Honey, you may as well give the films back to those two broads. They’re hardly worth the trouble. Neither one had very big titties, and we got plenty others to load up on the Web.”

  Epilogue

  Gina followed Cheryl down the center aisle of St. Margaret’s Church. As the maid of honor, she had the pleasure of pushing the stroller with little Grace in it. She had been born just a few weeks prior to the wedding. When Gina and Cheryl reached the front and assumed their positions, Dennis did some final primping on Linda and Rosa in the back of the church.

  The wedding march sprang from the organ, and Linda began to walk down the aisle with both her parents. She was wearing a beautiful ivory gown with long sleeves and lace around the shoulders. Rosa followed in an equally stunning lavender dress with her father in tow. Linda had gotten more involved with Dignity, her group for gay Catholics, over the past year and, aside from the fact that there was no groom, she insisted on having a traditional wedding.

  Gina watched the couple present themselves before the minister. Her eyes wandered around as she took in the beauty of the evening. It was Valentine’s Day weekend, and the church was decorated with red roses and soft white candles. There was snow on the ground outside from a brief dusting the night before. It was a crisp winter evening, but the church was warm, and the lit candles shined a glow on the two brides about to commit to a lifelong relationship. Gina couldn’t help but be touched.