Jillian

by Halle Butler

  “Can I try one?” asked Randy.

  “Yeah, absolutely.” David took a piece of paper and started writing a list.

  “This is awesome,” said Randy.

  Memory palace. Megan opened another beer. She said, “This is awesome,” in her head to mock Randy. Then she whispered, “Memory palace.”

  “You want to try one?” Randy asked.

  “Oh, no, I don’t think so,” said Megan.

  They weren’t disappointed about it, or outwardly happy. Megan stared at them while they were sitting in silence, Randy looking at the list and David looking at Randy. What’s in my memory palace? she wondered. A driveway. One with a basketball hoop on a pole. Megan was eleven and playing with her new friends. They grinned at each other and approached her, tied her to the basketball pole with two jump ropes, attached Rollerblades to her feet, and then drew penises on her face. Her hair was dressed, then, with shaving cream.

  Randy recited his list in the background.

  They dragged her, on the end of the jump ropes, to a soft-serve ice cream stand and forced her to order them all an extra-large Twister with gummy bears. The guy at the counter was cute—though, in retrospect, he probably was not—and he pointed out to her that she had a penis and the words “I am gay” drawn on her face. As she had not yet learned to be self-deprecating, she had not handled herself well, and she realized, just then on the couch, that she still held a burdensome grudge against those girls for what they had done to her.

  She set down her beer and knew she was drunk.

  “No, it’s cool, guys, I just did one in my head a second ago. A memory palace, I mean,” she said. This statement was unprovoked.

  “Uh, okay,” said David. “Wanna do it for us?”

  “Not really.”

  “Aw, come on, why not?” said Randy.

  “You don’t want to know what’s in my memory palace.” But since she was drunk and feeling moved by the rediscovery of the memory, she told them what she had just been thinking.

  “That’s not really what a memory palace is,” said David. “That’s just a memory.”

  “Well, it’s the setting of my memory palace,” said Megan.

  “Yeah, but what were your items?” he asked. Megan looked at him. “And what’s the big deal, anyway? Everyone has bad middle-school memories. That just sounds like a little bit of hazing.”

  “Yeah, well, that’s what you say,” said Megan.

  Randy was annoyed with Megan for moodily describing past social disappointments. And he was well lubricated. “That’s not even the worst of Megan’s memories,” he said.

  David laughed encouragingly.

  “Honey, I’m surprised you didn’t choose your fourth grade living room as the setting for your memory palace,” said Randy.

  “What happened?” said David.

  “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Megan.

  “You know, honey, the time your parents caught you masturbating to cartoons with that—what’s it called?—that Dizzy Doodler.”

  David spit out his laugh. “What is a Dizzy Doodler?” he asked.

  “It’s one of those,” Randy continued, “vibrating pens for children. They draw curlicues, and they’re powered by a little motor. Megan used to masturbate with her Dizzy Doodler every Saturday morning while she watched cartoons. Even after she lost the protective cap for the motor in the couch cushions, she kept going. She just had to be more careful when she used it, isn’t that what you told me? Didn’t you say that one morning you caught an arm of the motor in your underpants and were worried you would someday really injure yourself?”

  David was cracking up, and Randy was looking at Megan spitefully.

  “He’s kidding,” said Megan to David.

  David waved his hand at Megan and said, “Sure, sure.”

  “I didn’t do that,” said Megan.

  “One day she got busted and she gave her parents a long-winded speech about how she was addicted to the Dizzy Doodler,” said Randy.

  “Okay, that’s enough,” said Megan. “It’s not true.”

  “And how she wanted them to ‘THROW IT AWAY!’” Randy mimicked a child’s voice. “‘JUST THROW IT AWAY! And don’t tell me which trash can you use!’”

  David was in stitches.

  “All right, ha ha, very funny, Randy, very funny,” said Megan.

  David wiped the tears from his eyes and reached for another beer. “I had a dog once,” he said, “who used to lick his penis for hours on end. We were all sure he was masturbating.”

  “Lovely,” said Megan.

  In bed, Megan said, “I can’t believe you told David about the Dizzy Doodler.”

  “Oh, he didn’t believe me.”

  “That doesn’t matter.”

  “Come on, I was just teasing.”

  “That’s not the point.”

  6

  Saturday morning came fast. Friday was never a night for events, because Jillian was always so beat. She woke up early and knew that if everything went well today, if she did a good job, things would keep going the way they were going. You know, with Elena helping out and everything.

  Jillian made herself a Starbucks by putting coffee, ice, milk, and chocolate syrup in the blender. As the lukewarm, diluted coffee filled her mouth, she thought, How do they do it? She stood there for a full minute in the kitchen, in a trance, with the slippery cup in her hand, before she remembered she was in a hurry. That was the reason she’d made the Starbucks in the first place. Economy of time.

  When Adam was dressed and she was dressed, Jillian said, “You wait here, Adam.” She took Crispy outside for a second. The dog would not pee, just would not pee at first. Jillian looked at her cell phone to show her frustration, but the dog just would not pee.

  “Pee!” said Jillian.

  She squatted and whispered “Pee!” again, but Crispy only looked at her and tugged on the leash.

  “Ugh, fine, you stupid dog,” said Jillian.

  They walked around the block.

  “You dummy dog,” said Jillian.

  Crispy wagged her tail and eventually peed and pooped. When this happened Jillian said, “What a good girl, come on! Come on!” and then tried to get Crispy to walk even faster back to the apartment. The poop-bag thing still wasn’t happening. Crispy tugged Jillian away from the apartment and got in the play position.

  “Silly doggie,” said Jillian. Jillian was no fool. Jillian read Crispy’s body language, and furthermore knew she wouldn’t want to be in the bathroom all day if she were in Crispy’s shoes.

  “Okay, Crispy,” she said when she was getting Adam ready to scoot out the door. “Can you be a good girly?” Crispy stood in the middle of the living room. “She went pee and poop,” Jillian said to Adam. “I think we’re going to try leaving her out today.” Jillian turned on the TV and said, “Be a good girl, okay?” Crispy cocked her head.

  It was a twenty-minute walk to the church, which wasn’t so bad. Sometimes walking with Adam since they’d decided to stop using the stroller could be tricky, but it wasn’t so bad, and they could probably make it on time. She didn’t feel like there was any use in taking the bus, and the rates of cabs in the suburbs were outrageous and way out of her budget. They walked and they saw people working in their yards and playing on the sidewalk, driving their cars and getting in and out of their cars. Jillian breathed deep of this beautiful morning air, then accidentally burped a little.

  “I love where we live,” she said.

  Adam was silent, but she interpreted his enthusiastic dance-walking as agreement.

  The church was on a main drag, but there was a nice big lawn in the back, and the street wasn’t all that busy, even though it was large. Jillian and Adam made their way through the parking lot, through the front doors, and down the stairs to the baseme
nt, where the party was to be held.

  Elena was standing to the side of the room, staring at a card table. Her arms were crossed and she had one hand on her chin.

  “Hi, Elena,” said Jillian.

  “Hi, Jillian. Why don’t you drop him off in the kids’ room and then come back down here.”

  “Okay.”

  They crossed the basement rec room and went up the back stairs, through a hallway, and into a room that looked out over the back lawn.

  “Oh, you’re here early,” said Susie.

  “Elena told me to get here early. I hope it’s okay that I drop him off.”

  “Oh, sure. I’m just getting everything all set up for this afternoon. Hey, Adam, you want to watch some TV and have some crackers?”

  “Yeah,” said Adam.

  “Okay, we’ll be fine up here,” said Susie.

  “Great!” said Jillian.

  She walked back to Elena, who was still looking at the card table.

  “What are you looking at?” asked Jillian, as the card table was empty.

  “I’m thinking.”

  “Oh.”

  “If I gave you a list of things to get, do you think you could get them?”

  “Yeah, absolutely.”

  “Okay.” Elena walked to the other side of the basement and bent over another table and wrote a list. Jillian stood where she was, thinking she would do a good job. Elena came over with the list and Jillian looked at it.

  “There’ll be another list this afternoon, this is just preliminary stuff.”

  The list included snacks for the party, decorations, and costumes.

  “Um, Elena?” said Jillian. “I can totally get this for you, and I’m not trying to be funny, but I don’t have a car.”

  Elena looked at her.

  “I just don’t know if I can walk to all of these places and carry all of this stuff and get it all done in time for the party.”

  “Well, I can’t come with you.”

  “Yeah, I know, but, could I borrow your car, maybe?”

  Elena stared at her. “Do you have your license?”

  “Oh, yeah,” said Jillian. Elena gave her a look and Jillian shifted. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Okay, you can borrow my car, but if you get pulled over, I don’t know if I can be responsible for it.”

  “Oh, I’m a good driver, don’t worry.” Elena went to her purse and got out her keys.

  “You’ll be back before one o’clock, right?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I’m just going to go to the drinking fountain to take a Tylenol and then I’m off.”

  The best route to take was to go to the grocery store, then the party store, then the thrift store for the costumes, but if she did that, then the dips would sit in the car and get warm. She’d have to go to the party store first and get the groceries on the way back. Elena’s list had specific directions for the party decorations. Jillian pulled into the Party City parking lot. The store was a warehouse, so she thought she should be able to find everything. Elena wanted posters or hanging boards that said something about the eighties. The list said the posters should say “It’s the ’80s!” or “’80s Party Time!” Jillian wrinkled her nose at the list. The only decorations she could find with the number 80 on them were birthday posters, and they all had graves and grim reapers on them. That would not do, she thought. There were some paper plates that said “Girls Just Want to Have Fun” and “Girls Night” on them, with pictures of girls in aerobics outfits. They looked kind of eighties.

  “Oooh,” said Jillian.

  She could go through and take out the “Girls Night” plates, because “Girls Just Want to Have Fun” was an eighties song.

  She walked the aisles looking for things that would do and put these things in her basket. Neon balloons, neon streamers, neon Puffy Paint, two posters that said “Party” in metallic letters, some blank neon poster board, electric-blue crepe tablecloths, two packages of pink plastic forks, party hats with Michael Jackson on them, and party hats with the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles on them.

  “This’ll do fine,” she whispered.

  “Okay, your total is sixty-five ninety-eight,” said the cashier.

  Elena hadn’t given her a stipend! she realized.

  “Umm,” she said.

  But Elena would pay her back, and she did have the leftovers from her paycheck in her purse.

  She skipped to the car and put the party favors in the trunk. Elena had Yankee Candle air fresheners in her trunk, and absolutely no crumbs embedded in the carpet.

  “Mmmm, the cinnamon,” said Jillian.

  The thrift store was fun, she thought. Her mission there was to pick up some eighties party costumes for the people who didn’t wear their own. Just so everyone could feel like they fit in, she guessed. This would be a breeze. She picked out a few formal dresses and then a few sweatshirts and some winter gloves.

  “Your total is thirty-five dollars,” said the cashier. Jillian sighed.

  “Whoa-kay,” she said.

  It was already a little after noon, how did the time fly so fast? She was running out of money, so she had to cut a few corners, but it would be fine. Instead of the precut carrot sticks she got bags of carrots, and instead of the pre-mixed Hawaiian Punch she got packets of Kool-Aid. Other than that, she stuck to the list (buying the store brand dips and cheese, though, of course, because she had a discount card at that particular grocery store).

  She loaded up the car, congratulated herself on not getting pulled over (and totally busted and ruined, but no good to dwell on that!) and getting everything before one o’clock, as she’d been asked.

  She went into the church basement with an armload of her spoils and saw Elena there with a few of the other women from church. They were moving tables around and pointing at different parts of the room.

  “Oh, thank god, where have you been?” asked Elena.

  “Just on the errands. It’s before one, isn’t it?”

  “Okay, bring all of the decorations down so we can get started.”

  “Okay, hey, Elena, I can get you the receipts for this stuff, can you pay me back tonight?”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  “Cool.”

  It took three trips, since none of the women offered to help, but in the end it didn’t take all that long to get everything down into the basement. When she came down with the last bags of snacks, she noticed Elena looking mad at the bags in the middle of the floor.

  “What is all this stuff?” she asked.

  “It’s the decorations and costumes,” said Jillian.

  “Yeah, but what’s this blank paper for? And there’s nothing that says ‘eighties.’”

  “Oh, there weren’t any eighties decorations, so I thought we could, um, make some real quick.”

  “Jillian, the eighties are really popular right now, are you sure you looked?”

  “I looked everywhere, I couldn’t find anything.” Elena held up the Ninja Turtle party hats.

  Jillian said, “Because it’s from the eighties.”

  “Is it? Is it, Jillian? Because my boys watched this show, and they didn’t watch it in the eighties.”

  “Oh, yeah, I’m sure it is. But, look, these are all eighties colors,” she said, kneeling down by the bag. “And I got these Puffy Pens.” She held a Puffy Pen up to Elena.

  Elena sighed. “I just didn’t want this to look so amateurish, that’s all.”

  “Oh, no, Elena, it’s going to look nice, I promise.”

  “And what’s with all of these sweatshirts? What am I supposed to wear?”

  “I thought we could cut off the necks,” said Jillian. “And we could make fingerless gloves.”

  Elena didn’t respond. “Carol,” she said. Carol came over. “See what you can make of all this.”

&n
bsp; Elena went off.

  “I’m going to make some posters,” said Jillian. She picked up the poster board and markers and took them to a corner. She laid out a neon-orange sheet and, in bubble letters, wrote “’80s.” She got some tape and taped one of the signs that said “Party” to the bottom of it. Carol spread the tablecloths out and set out the plates and forks. Jillian walked to the table. She had that nice, floating, hilarious feeling that her Tylenol gave her and she lifted her hands a little high and set them on the plates. She stopped there for a second, then she sorted through the plates and removed the “Girls Night”s.

  She went to the kitchen, chopped the carrot sticks, and mixed the Kool-Aid.

  “Oh my, what is this,” she heard Elena say. Her hands started to tremble when she noticed there was no sugar. She looked from side to side. She went into the hall.

  “Melissa,” she whispered. She waved Melissa over. “Hey, Melissa, is there any sugar?”

  “Hmmm. I know someone was at the store.”

  “That was me. I forgot to get the sugar.”

  “I think there are some packets under the coffeemaker.”

  “Great.”

  Jillian found a box of Splenda under the coffeemaker. No one will see me, she thought. No one will see me. She tried to turn “No one will see me” into a protective mantra, then she took the box over to the punch bowl and started dumping the packets into it.

  Rip dump, rip dump, rip dump, frantically rip-dumping until the punch was a little too sweet, then she mixed it and brought it out to the main room and set it next to the plate of homemade (and wasn’t that better?) carrot sticks.