Love Over Moon Street

by Saxon Bennett

  Sparky’s look of alarm made Cheryl laugh. “I’m just saying.”

  “Point taken.”

  In the living room, white throws and pillowcases had been strategically placed around the room, making it appear mostly white despite the fact that it had not been earlier.

  “Who knew a white fondue pot could instigate all this,” Sparky said.

  “I know, right?” Lexus said.

  “And what are these?” Jennifer said, pointing at two chilled pitchers sitting on a white tray on the coffee table.

  “Margaritas and virgin margaritas as one is so inclined,” Lexus said. She didn’t have to ask Jennifer what kind she wanted. After serving her a glass from the first pitcher, she poured another two for herself and Cheryl and then a virgin one for Pen. She looked inquiringly at Vibro and Sparky. They both pointed at the virgin pitcher simultaneously. Sparky hoped she didn’t have to explain. Lexus poured and said nothing.

  Sparky had decided after leaving Wesson that she wouldn’t drink anymore. After much searching in the cave of “what went wrong,” she came to a realization that she’d long denied: They drank too much. Couple that with arguing and you got violence. Some nights they’d have a hellacious fight and by morning neither of them could really say what it was about. Sparky had cut down some then, but Wesson carried on like getting sloshed was a way of life.

  Now that Sparky had broken with that lifestyle she’d decided she’d live her new one clean and sober. That wasn’t always easy, she discovered. She didn’t have the DTs, but that didn’t mean she didn’t have a problem. She’d bought herself a set of dumbbells and this new thing called an Indo-board, intending to exercise her way into sobriety. It gave the same dopamine rush and that was what her mind seemed to miss most.

  Sparky wondered what Vibro’s reason was. If Sparky had Jennifer for a girlfriend, staying sober would be a trial. Jennifer had already downed one margarita and poured herself another.

  “These are fabulous,” Jennifer said. She sat on the love seat and crossed her legs. She eyed Sparky. “Well, aren’t you looking handsome this evening,” she said, patting the couch next to her. “Come sit.”

  Pen saved her. “Sparky, I need help changing the light bulb in my lava lamp. It’s kind of a two-person job.” She took Sparky’s hand.

  “But…” Lexus started to say.

  “We’ll be right back,” Pen said.

  They went down the hall to Pen’s room.

  They entered what must have been the guest bedroom, but which was now turned “kid,” albeit a subdued kid. There was a blue and white quilt for a bedspread and matching shams, gingham curtains and an old hope chest. It looked right out of Little House on the Prairie.

  Pen looked at her eagerly. “Do you like it?” She put her arms out to indicate the room.

  “I do. Did you decorate it yourself?”

  “Yes,” Pen said and blushed.

  “It’s very antique and sort of Western,” Sparky said, pointing at the lasso rope hanging by a horseshoe hook.

  “I know. Isn’t that cool?” she said. “Lexus said I could have it anyway I wanted. It’s from my favorite book.”

  “Which is?”

  “I always wanted to be Laura in Little House in the Big Woods.”

  Oh my God, Sparky thought. It’s too cute. She would never say that to Pen, though.

  “I love those books. I read them all when I was your age and later on when I needed a good dose of prairie life.”

  “Really?”

  Sparky nodded. “But I don’t see a lava lamp.” The only lamp was an antique hurricane lamp which had been modernized so that it held a light bulb.

  “Oh, I kinda lied. I don’t have one. I just remembered you changing the light bulb in your lava lamp and that gave me the idea. I didn’t want you to sit by Jennifer…cuz, you know. I like Vibro. I think it would kinda hurt her feelings.”

  “That was very thoughtful of you.”

  “Like I have manners?” Pen looked at her tentatively.

  “Saving someone embarrassment is being kind and considerate—it shows excellent manners.”

  Pen glowed with the praise.

  They returned to the living room. Vibro sat next to Jennifer, who looked affronted, as if her girlfriend was cramping her style. Sparky sat next to Vibro on the couch. Pen sat on the ottoman.

  “Did you like her room?” Lexus said. “She designed it all herself. I just helped in procurement.”

  “Lexus is awesome. She can find anything,” Pen said.

  “I am well versed in the odd shops of Seattle. In one of my life-coaching seminars, I had everyone find something that reminded them of a happy time in their childhoods, which meant a lot of antiquing and thrift store shopping. We all went shopping together so I know, like, the strange shops of the city now. It was a very uplifting experience for all of us.”

  “Did you find something from your childhood?” Vibro asked.

  Lexus blushed, which surprised Sparky. What could it possibly be? Lexus was weird, but all kids were weird.

  “What is it?” Jennifer asked, pouring her third margarita. Sparky glanced at the enormous wall clock fashioned after the face of Big Ben or something. It had been less than thirty minutes. At this rate Jennifer would be soused by fondue time.

  “Do you want me to go get it?” Pen offered.

  Lexus nodded. Vibro topped off Sparky’s virgin margarita. They were actually quite good—like a frosty lime drink.

  Pen returned with a Mrs. Beasley doll. She was missing her omnipresent glasses. “I’m still trying to find a pair of specs,” Lexus said. She took the doll from Pen and held her on her hip the way mothers do with babies. “I always wanted one, but my mother was an ardent Gloria Steinem follower and so dolls, being an inculcator of the patriarchy, were not allowed.”

  “Was she excited that you grew up to be a lesbian?” Vibro asked.

  “No, that’s the irony. She was really disappointed. Where would she get grandchildren? She should’ve let me have the dolls.”

  “I think you’re both going to be great parents,” Vibro said.

  Jennifer asked to look at the doll, and Lexus handed Mrs. Beasley over. Jennifer bounced her on her knee and then tossed and caught her. “I wonder what kind of mother I’d be?”

  Vibro shuddered. “Let’s just say I’m glad I don’t possess the equipment to qualify you.”

  “You think I’d make a bad mother?”

  The dicey situation was averted by the doorbell. Lexus leaped up from her chair. “That must be Phred.”

  Vibro leaned toward Sparky and whispered, “Don’t talk to Phred unless it’s absolutely necessary.”

  “She’s that bad?”

  “Let me ponder that.” She pressed an index finger to her temple. “The answer would be yes.”

  “I’ll get the relish tray so we can snack out here rather than in the kitchen, which is a tight fit with all of us in there,” Cheryl said.

  “Let me help,” Sparky said.

  “Me too,” Vibro said, getting up as well.

  “She’s staying for dinner so bailing the scene isn’t going to work,” Cheryl said.

  They both sat down again. Jennifer had scooted over.

  “I find Phred positively fascinating,” Jennifer said, putting her arm on the back of the couch and smiling at Sparky, who was now forced to sit next to her.

  “Can I see Mrs. Beasley again?” Pen asked. Jennifer handed the doll to Pen, who sat next to her so that she was a buffer between Jennifer and Sparky. Jennifer appeared disgruntled until Phred entered the room. Phred Ambrose was a tall, big-boned woman with hawkish features and a shaved head. She reminded Sparky of k.d. lang. She was dressed like a big-boned gal from southern Alberta, complete with a checkered, yoked shirt and a pair of tight jeans that had something attached to the fly.

  “Phred, this is our new Moonie. Sparky McAlester. She lives in Apartment Number 2,” Lexus said.

  Sparky got up and shook Phred’s enormous
hand. “Pleased to meet you,” Sparky said.

  “And this is Pen,” Lexus said. “She is our new roommate and an official Moonie too.”

  Phred peered at Pen. She stuck out her hand for a knuckle bump. “It’s nice to have a youngster around. Glad to make your acquaintance, Pen.” She had a deep, gruff voice.

  “The pleasure is all mine,” Pen said. She glanced over at Sparky, who nodded her approval. Pen bumped knuckles.

  “Phred, love the get-up. Is it part of your new line?” Jennifer asked.

  “Yes. I call it Vag-Wear.”

  There was a “V-W” logo on her right pant pocket. Sparky leaned in to get a better look. Phred turned around to show her the logo enlarged on the rear pockets of the jeans.

  “As in vagina?” Sparky said.

  “Yes, but Vagina Wear is too long so I shortened it to Vag-Wear. I think it makes it catchy and more noticeable in terms of marketing,” Phred said.

  Oh, it’s catchy and noticeable all right, Sparky thought.

  Cheryl came in with the relish tray, and Phred snagged a carrot. She inspected it.

  “All the veggies are organic and grown in co-op gardens where the labor is treated fairly and the employees are all equal shareholders. I’ve got the kettle on for your hot water and lemon,” Cheryl said.

  Phred nodded, popped the carrot in her mouth and snagged a piece of broccoli.

  “Phred, sweetie darling, are you still on that draconian diet in which nothing fun enters your lips? Your upper lips, that is.” Jennifer sniggered.

  Vibro glared at her.

  Pen turned to Phred. “Is that fur on your pants?”

  It was a legitimate question. Not only did it looked like fur, it was also shaped like a pubic “V,” Sparky thought. And wasn’t the vagina the inside part? So the outer “fur” part should really be called Snatch Wear instead of Vag-Wear. Sparky considered bringing this up but then thought better of it.

  “It’s not fur. I’m an ardent supporter of PETA.” She snapped a carrot between her teeth and said, “It’s faux fur made from recycled plastic and dried yam fibers.”

  “I just thought that it kind of looked like, you know, what girls have…down there,” Pen said, waggling her fingers around her nether regions. She blushed.

  Oh, my God, out of the mouths of babes, Sparky thought.

  Vibro burst out laughing.

  Phred beamed at Pen. “You, child, are a brilliant observer. She who is a mere…” Phred stopped. “How old are you?”

  “Ten,” Pen replied.

  “A ten-year-old person grasps the concept of Vag-Wear, able to go where most grown-ups fear to tread. People have no idea of the power of the vagina,” Phred said.

  “Oh, do share,” Lexus said, returning to the room with the ranch dip for the veggie tray.

  Sparky managed to get some organic veggies out from under Phred’s cosmic gaze and put them on a plate. She spooned some dip on the side.

  “It’s about taking back our power, about putting our womaness on the outside, neither denying it nor allowing for the objectification of our vaginal being,” Phred said.

  Sparky mulled this around. It seemed to her that wearing a faux-fur snatch on the front of one’s pants was objectifying the vagina. She wondered—if society allowed it, would Phred make pants with a big hole in the front so her vagina could actually see the light of day?

  “But doesn’t the Vag-Wear thing make people see us as only vaginas?” Cheryl asked. She handed Jennifer the pitcher of margaritas.

  Phred’s eyes flashed. “It’s antithetical. The world thinks of women as walking vaginas—their entire sociological frame of reference is centered around being fucked and having children. Women are not seen as people—they are seen as vaginas. So presenting Vaginal Observers with overt vaginas makes them not want to think about them.”

  “That’s quite clever,” Cheryl said.

  Phred actually smiled. She had nice teeth. They were very white.

  Vibro leaned over to Sparky and whispered, “Do you understand what she just said?”

  “I have no idea,” Sparky replied. The whole thing was one big enigma, conundrum, paradox—she couldn’t decide on one word for it. Maybe it was all three.

  They looked at Cheryl, who was smiling and nodding at Phred, who was still going on about the Vag-Wear concept.

  “See, Vibro, me showing off my assets is really about empowerment,” Jennifer said. She leaned forward as she poured more margarita mix into her glass, her breasts threatening once again to spill forth.

  Pen looked at Sparky, who was trying, without success, not to look at the wayward tits. “Are those real?” Pen asked. She blushed. “That was bad, wasn’t it? I’m sorry. It just came out.” Pen put her hand over her mouth as if to stop herself from saying anything more.

  “Oh, sweetie, I was wondering when someone was going to ask,” Jennifer said, rearranging her breasts so at least parts of them were still wearing the dress.

  “She spent her retirement fund on them,” Vibro said. “I’m sure they’ll keep her clothed, fed and housed in her old age.”

  Phred leaned over and studied them.

  “You can touch them if you want,” Jennifer said.

  “I don’t think so,” Vibro said.

  “We should all move to the dining room and start with the fonduing. It’s not a quick endeavor so we’ll have plenty of time to visit,” Lexus said.

  Jennifer’s phone beeped and she pulled it out from between her breasts.

  Vibro sighed heavily. Pen looked astonished. She glanced over at Vibro. “She can fit a phone in there?” Pen said.

  “And God knows what else,” Vibro replied.

  “Are you going to make any more margaritas?” Jennifer asked as she texted, not bothering to look up.

  “I’ll get right on that,” Cheryl said.

  “I’ll help,” Sparky and Pen said simultaneously. Lexus smiled at them with the look of someone who knows she’s been outmaneuvered. She was going to be left with faux fur, big tits and a pissed-off girlfriend, but after all, it was her dinner party.

  In the kitchen, Cheryl leaned against the kitchen counter and took several deep breaths. She looked at Pen and Sparky. “I’m so sorry. Dinner parties are not usually this intense. It’s just that, well, Lexus has unusual friends and sometimes the mix is not always conducive to a relaxing evening. I sometimes wonder if that’s not her plan.”

  “It’s not boring at least,” Sparky said. “Did you really understand all that Vag-Wear stuff?”

  “Of course not. Who could?” Cheryl said.

  “Oh, good. I thought I’d gone dumb or something.”

  “When Martha Sue had people over, they just drank beer and ate Cheetos so I’m good.”

  Cheryl looked pained again.

  “Please don’t do that,” Pen said.

  “Do what?” Cheryl said.

  “Look sad,” Pen said.

  Sparky got the ice cubes out of the freezer. She wished she weren’t in the kitchen now.

  “I worry about you. I can’t help it.”

  “You take good care of me,” Pen said. She took Cheryl’s hand.

  Lexus called from the dining room. “Pen, sweetie darling, do you remember what we did with the extension cord?”

  Pen squeezed Cheryl’s hand. “It’s all good.” She left to locate the extension cord.

  Cheryl opened the freezer and stuck her head in it.

  Sparky didn’t say anything as she loaded the blender with ice. When Cheryl’s head continued to remain in the freezer, she cleared her throat. “Are you all right?”

  Cheryl didn’t respond. Sparky touched her shoulder. “Pen loves you, you know.”

  Cheryl’s head slowly came out of the freezer. Her cheeks had turned red from the cold. “I know Pen loves us and we love her.”

  “Then what’s wrong?”

  “I don’t know…” Cheryl started. She sighed heavily. “It’s like she wants to be with us, but she doesn’t.”
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  “It’s the fostering, I think. She hasn’t had much stability in her life, so she’s probably a little leery of getting attached to you all. It’ll come with time.” Sparky didn’t want to ask if they were going to adopt Pen. It was probably too soon to inquire.

  Jennifer poked her head and tits into the kitchen. “Did you go to Mexico to get those margaritas?” She giggled.

  “They’re coming right up.” She pressed the blend button so they couldn’t talk anymore.

  Jennifer gave her the thumbs-up and left.

  Cheryl touched her shoulder. “Thanks.”

  “Anytime, but why’d you stick your head in the freezer?”

  “It’s a stress tactic Lexus uses. It’s the sensory equivalent of counting to ten.”

  “Oh.”

  Cheryl carried out a tray of brie, olives and pickles while Sparky brought the drinks. When they got to the dining room, they found that Phred had engaged Pen and Lexus in a conversation about feminism in the Middle Ages. Both of them looked rapt. Sparky thought it was pretty cool that Phred could tell a story about strong, resilient women and keep a ten-year-old interested. Phred was an engaging speaker. Her voice was deep and resonant. She emphasized the words in the right places.

  Vibro was attempting repeatedly to skewer a chunk of broccoli with her fondue fork. She kept missing, the fork tines clanking on the plate. Sparky wondered if Vibro was imagining the broccoli as Jennifer’s head. Jennifer had her head down and tits out. She was texting again. She looked up only long enough to get another drink.

  Sparky sat next to Vibro and gently took the fondue fork away from her. She skewered the broccoli and set it in the fondue pot. She did one for herself as well. Pen tucked into the brie and crackers. She had very adult tastes for a child, but then she hadn’t been allowed to be a child so far in her life. She’d probably made herself breakfast when she was still in her nappies, Sparky thought. She looked like she was enjoying listening to Phred. Once Phred settled down she was an interesting dinner guest, and Sparky understood why she’d been invited. Up to this point, it’d been a mystery.

  “What would you like to try next?” Sparky asked.

  “You pick,” Vibro said. She looked glum.