Saxon Bennett - Talk of the Town

by Saxon Bennett

  Mallory had learned a lot by sitting on Gigi’s dirty couch on the canal. She learned what not having money could do to people. People without money had too much reality in their lives and no delusions because to be deluded you needed money. Her mother and her father were deluded into thinking life was nice. They could not begin to fathom the kind of life Mallory observed and to a certain extent surrounded herself with. Where she lived, the inner city albeit the central corridor, gave her more knowledge of humankind than her entire college education in sociology afforded. Her life and the life she observed were completely outside her parents’ ken.

  Harrington and Buffy Simpson diligently chose to ignore this fact and did their best to pretend that Mallory was attending country club events and devoting herself to charity in between taking care of her adoring husband and two point five children.

  “I told you something like this would happen if you continued to insist on carting those . . . what do you call them?” Buffy Simpson said, suddenly at a loss as she mixed two martinis.

  “Commonly referred to as vending machines. You put money in them and stuff comes out,” Mallory said, plucking two cocktail olives from the fancy silver container and plopping them in her drink.

  “Why do you do it?” Buffy asked, her face the picture of perplexity.

  “Do what?”

  “All these things, that are so unlike other girls,” Buffy said.

  “Because I’m crazy,” Mallory replied.

  “Don’t say that, don’t ever say that,” Buffy said, her eyebrows drawing themselves together until they formed a light blond caterpillar. Her eyes closed and she breathed out slow and even like she was exorcising demons.

  “You asked,” Mallory said.

  “How are your sessions with Dr. Kolhrabi going?” Buffy asked, trying to recover her composure.

  “Fine. She’s helping me through my latest dating crisis.”

  “You’re dating someone,” Buffy said, sidling up to Mallory on the couch with a do-tell-look written blatantly across her face.

  “It’s a woman,” Mallory said, watching her mother’s shoulders shrink.

  “I know that,” Buffy said, quickly regaining her composure, thinking it couldn’t possibly hurt to hope otherwise.

  “I’m not dating her really but we are having lunch.”

  “I see. Where did you meet her?” Buffy inquired.

  “At a potluck.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Never mind. It’s entirely beyond your comprehension.”

  “What does she do?” Buffy asked.

  “Does it matter?” Mallory asked, getting up and looking into the dining room. Cook had just finished setting the table. She reminded herself the ordeal would be over soon.

  “Yes, it matters. What a person does for a living reveals a lot about them.”

  “What do you tell people I do?” Mallory countered.

  Buffy looked away.

  “What do you tell them?” Mallory demanded.

  “I tell them you’re away.”

  “I see. Your invisible daughter.”

  “It’s not that, Mallory. I don’t know what to tell them. It’s just easier.”

  “And certainly less embarrassing than telling them your daughter is a self-employed vending machine person and a lesbian.”

  Buffy was spared further grief by Cook and Harrington as they simultaneously entered the living room.

  Harrington put a clumsy arm around his daughter and said, “So how’s business?”

  “Booming,” Mallory replied, going through the same motions to the same questions that comprised her relationship with her father.

  “That’s my girl,” Harrington said, leading the way to the dining room.

  Ollie and Gigi sat on the back steps of Kim’s house and shared a cigarette. Neither one of them was supposed to be smoking but so far the sessions with the hypnotist were not taking root yet. They both swore they were trying.

  “It’s like heroin you know. Not an easy thing to give up,” Gigi said, taking a long drag.

  “I know. People just don’t understand,” Ollie said.

  “Not to mention I’m getting fat,” Gigi said, pulling up her shirt and pinching her stomach.

  “Oh my God! You can pinch an inch, how disgusting,” Ollie said, grabbing Gigi’s inch and then pushing her to the ground for a complete tickle.

  “I want you to know that I completely disagree with this treatment,” Gigi screamed in between fits of gasping laughter.

  “You like it. I know you do,” Ollie said, pinning Gigi to the grass. She came dangerously close to kissing her, going in close, rubbing Gigi’s nose and had her wife not miraculously appeared, she would have kissed her.

  “What do we have here?” Kim asked diplomatically.

  “Gigi thinks she getting fat from not smoking,” Ollie replied with equal decorum.

  “I see. Are you perhaps measuring her body fat?” Kim asked, trying not to take obvious offense at her lover’s current position.

  “Now that’s a good one,” Ollie said, standing up and giving prone Gigi a hand up.

  “No, I was teaching her a lesson about vanity, that being concerned about an inch is utter bullshit.”

  “How is the non-smoking life treating you two?” Kim said, picking up the lit cigarette lying on the step and handing it to Ollie.

  “Fine,” Ollie said, taking a drag and handing the cigarette to Gigi.

  “Are you coming in?” Kim asked pointedly.

  “In a minute,” Ollie said, taking the cigarette back.

  “Fine,” Kim said, going inside.

  Kim ran into Del in the kitchen. Her normally placid face was not composed. She twisted her long dark hair into a knot.

  “You okay?” Del asked.

  Kim nodded.

  Del looked past her shoulder and saw Ollie reach for Gigi. She shook her head. All Del wanted was a faithful, tender lover. Seeing what Kim was going through only made her want it more. She was done cruising. She wanted a woman to make a life with. She wanted Mallory. She wanted Mallory to be here, but Gigi had told her Mallory was having dinner with her parents. She said she might stop by later, to which Gigi rolled her eyes in a like never position. Consequently, Del was enjoying another evening in the bosom of the lesbian love fest hoping Mallory was going to show up.

  After the Gigi-Kim-Ollie thing, Del decided to call it an evening. When she walked outside, Mallory was sitting on the tailgate of her truck. Del did a double take.

  “Mallory?” Del asked, not trusting herself.

  “I wondered when you would show up. Making a hasty retreat are you?” Mallory teased.

  “Well, since you’re here everything has changed,” Del replied.

  “But I’m not really here,” Mallory said.

  “You’re not?”

  “Not officially.”

  “What are you doing then?”

  “Wondering if you would be here,” Mallory said, looking intently at Del.

  “In the flesh,” Del said, bowing extravagantly.

  “Are you staying?” Mallory asked.

  “Only if you are,” Del said.

  “Want to go for walk?” Mallory asked.

  “With your foot?” Del said, looking down.

  “There’s a park half a block from here. I can walk that far,” Mallory replied.

  “Let’s go,” Del said.

  Mallory threw Del a blanket. “Know anything about the stars?”

  “No, but I bet you can teach me,” Del said.

  “As a matter of fact I can. Come with me little lady,” Mallory said, crutching off toward the corner.

  “Little?” Del asked, catching up and straightening her five foot eight frame.

  Mallory smirked.

  They made their way down the dimly lit street. Kim’s neighbors’ houses had lights emanating from various rooms. Neighborhoods always reminded Del that she didn’t live in one and that most of her adult life had been spent in the r
ented boxes masquerading as apartment living. It made her think of Mallory’s queer little house not far from here. A house meant you were staying somewhere, making this space real and permanent. Del wanted permanence.

  “Why did you come tonight?” Del asked, when they stopped and spread out the blanket.

  “I wanted to see if you’d be there because you thought I might,” Mallory said, slowly easing onto the blanket and setting her crutches next to her.

  “I did,” Del said.

  “Why?” Mallory asked, getting out her brass spyglass. She laid back and stared at Betelgeuse and Rigel, the two powerhouse stars that made up the shoulder and knee of Orion. Tonight was perfect for stargazing as the moon was no more than a sliver in the sky.

  “Because you still won’t have lunch with me.”

  “You never called,” Mallory said, handing Del the spyglass.

  “I thought you were going to call me,” Del said, putting her eye up to the piece.

  “Oh, kind of a mix-up then,” Mallory said, not knowing if she was supposed to be relieved or all the more terrified.

  “What am I supposed to be looking at,” Del asked, rolling on her side making her elevated slightly above Mallory’s prone body. Her eyes wanted to roam carelessly over Mallory’s body but she didn’t dare. Instead, Mallory pushed her back and took her right hand, pointed its finger and began to give her lessons in navigating the universe. She drew the constellations by connecting the bright dots of lights that filled the deep blue night. Then they would look through the spyglass.

  “I’m not very good at this sort of thing, you know,” Mallory said.

  “What kind of thing?” Del teased, still holding Mallory’s hand in her own. Mallory’s hand was small and smooth but with rounded calluses on her fingertips and around the joints. Del had made hands a minor study as she had the opportunity to see so many people in a day. She hoped to keep Mallory occupied so she could keep holding her hand. Del knew it was a stolen moment but at this point she was already beggar, man, thief. She wondered what Mallory thought.

  Instead, Mallory rolled over, took Del’s finger and stuck it in her mouth. Del turned instantly red and was extremely thankful for the dark night. It created a thickness between them that allowed for such an intimacy without shame or anxiety.

  “Now that I’ve done that I think I can go to lunch with you,” Mallory said.

  “Tomorrow at high noon?” Del inquired.

  “I can manage that,” Mallory said.

  There was a commotion up the street. They could hear loud women’s voices.

  “Perhaps we should go,” Del said, feeling propriety tug at her when all she wanted to do at this moment was exist next to Mallory beneath an indigo sky.

  When they got there, Ollie was screaming at Kim, who stood totally undaunted. She kept repeating, “I’m not the one out of line here.”

  “Right now I don’t give a fuck about lines, points, or circles. I just want to get my car out of your driveway so I can get as far away as I can from you,” Ollie screamed.

  “It’s my truck. I’ll move it,” Mallory said. “Sorry.”

  Ollie looked at Del and Mallory, made a brief connection, scowled at her girlfriend and screeched out of the driveway.

  “Isn’t love grand,” Mallory said, still in the truck.

  “It can be. Got to go?” Del asked, standing by the side of the truck.

  “Think it might be a good idea,” Mallory said.

  “See you tomorrow?”

  “Yes,” Mallory said.

  As she drove home Mallory tried to understand why she had gone to the party in the first place. Was it her mother’s statement that rendered her daughter an invisible part of her life? Was it thinking about how it felt to have a woman truly interested in her?

  She went because part of her liked Del, liked the feelings she got from her. But part of her saw too many parallels that comprise the art of courting between Del and the only other woman she had loved in her life. She would talk to Dr. Kohlrabi tomorrow. She would know what to do.

  ***

  The sky didn’t have the same charm as it had when she was stargazing with Mallory. Del and Kim sat on her back porch having a nightcap.

  “I don’t think it’s asking too much to want her to be physically faithful. I know we all have our fantasy moments but does she have to fool around with our friends, not to mention someone else’s partner?” Kim said.

  “It’s not good,” Del said, sympathetically.

  “If she wants to be with someone else fine, but don’t cheat on me. If you don’t want me, let me know. Don’t pretend, stay for the sake of staying, and then fuck someone else. And to top it off she has the audacity to think me a prude because I take offense at her sitting on top another woman getting ready to kiss her. I’m not wrong am I?”

  “No, you’re not,” Del said. “You have every right to expect to live with someone who is true.”

  “Thank you, Del. You’re such a sweet woman,” Kim said, leaning on Del’s shoulder.

  “I try.”

  “You like Mallory?” Kim asked, suddenly remembering she had seen them together earlier.

  “I do. I just hope she likes me.”

  “What’s not to like,” Kim said, pinching one of Del’s dimples.

  They didn’t say much on the way home, but Gigi knew this was the proverbial calm before the storm. Alex would wait until they were safely parked before she began her list of thoughts and desires.

  Gigi tried to gather responses. They’d done this before.

  “I just don’t understand your fervent interest in other women if you’re happy with me,” Alex said, her voice very even as she locked the car door.

  “I’m only playing around,” Gigi said, starting slow and easy.

  “Playing around enough to get the host’s girlfriend escorted from the premises,” Alex said, opening the front door and leaning down scratch Vesuvius’ ears. She picked the cat up. She looked at Gigi sadly.

  “I’m sorry,” Gigi said.

  “I wish you loved me as much as I love you,” Alex said.

  “I do.”

  “No, you don’t,” Alex said, sitting on the couch.

  “Coming to bed?” Gigi asked as Alex petted the cat and slipped her shoes off.

  “No, I think I’ll watch television. You go,” Alex said.

  “That’s all?” Gigi asked.

  “Talking about it doesn’t seem to accomplish much. Does it?”

  “I suppose not,” Gigi said, going off to bed. She was tired and confused by having overindulged in far too hedonistic pursuits. She sensed Ollie was offering more than she was prepared for. Usually these flirtations amounted to nothing more than a slightly indiscreet kiss on New Year’s Eve. But when she slips her tongue in your mouth it’s more than flirtation. And then the thing in the van was much more . . . She was surprised yet couldn’t say she didn’t like it. Still, she did love Alex and there were limits to one’s partner’s patience.

  Mallory was sitting upright which did much to disconcert Dr. Kohlrabi. There was something different about Mallory but she had not as yet ascertained what it was. She was wearing her usual pajamas and sandals and her long hair was pulled pack. Her baseball hat sat neatly in her lap and she was attentively looking at the good doctor.

  “What’s wrong?” Mallory asked.

  “Nothing,” Dr. Kohlrabi replied.

  “Do you think I look different?” Mallory said, getting up, putting her cap back on and looking in the tiled mosaic mirror hanging on the office wall.

  “Perhaps a better question would be do you think you look different?”

  “Do they teach you that in therapy school?” Mallory asked, peering deeply into her own hazel eyes. They say the eyes are the windows of soul. Mallory wondered what her soul would look like if she could catch a glimpse of it. The Buddhists teach that the soul is a false construction and only when one begins to travel the path does she discover that there is only oneness with
the universe and no immutable thing to call your own. This knowledge did much to lighten one’s load in the good and evil department but it did little to alleviate the anxiety at the immensity of the universes, planes, infinities that a woman would become a part of.

  “Teach what?” Dr. Kohlrabi asked, trying to bring Mallory back from wherever she was traveling.

  “Answer a question with a question,” Mallory replied, sitting back down. She took her shoes off and assumed her upside down lotus position.

  “Yes, I suppose they do,” Dr. Kohlrabi said, breathing easier. She knew Mallory was ready to talk.

  “Because it’s all about me right?”

  “Right.”

  “I went to lunch with Del.”

  “That’s a start,” Dr. Kohlrabi said, noting the slight flush in Mallory’s face when she mentioned Del’s name.

  “It was actually fun. She brought Chinese food.”

  “You liked it?” Dr. Kohlrabi replied.

  Mallory thought for a moment. She had liked it. She liked sitting on the floor of her office on an old Mexican blanket bought years before at Rocky Point, bits of sand still nestled in its fibers, the smell of sea lurking somewhere near. The tiny white cartons of the Kyoto Bowl laid out in a circle and Del sitting across from her.

  “Yes, but . . .” Mallory said, feeling like she was standing on the Beach of Mortification and her heart was a kite that the wind slammed into the ocean, crushing the wooden bows of the brightly colored kite. She ran to rescue it, only to discover it was beyond repair.

  “But what?”

  “I’m frightened.”

  “Of getting intimate?” Dr. Kohlrabi prodded.

  “Yes. It’s the good feeling that scares me, the kind that makes you crave the other person. And that’s dangerous, especially for someone with my past.”

  “Because they might leave?”

  “Yes.”

  “Not everyone leaves,” Dr. Kohlrabi said, thinking of her ex-husband who was off somewhere with a woman half his age.

  Times like these made her feel like a hypocrite. Yes, falling in loves means hazarding the risk that you will be disappointed, hurt, skewered and roasted. But not falling in love meant existing in a half-life of safe, antiseptic waters that slowly and inevitably washed you toward emotional oblivion. She would lie and she would cheat to get Mallory out of those waters and into the game of loving chance.