by G S Oldman
~ ~ ~
June had no use for Valentine's Day. It forever, irritatingly fell three days before her birthday. Having no current admirer, the evening's rain and drizzlement made her seek solitude, to be alone with sad thoughts, everyone please go away. She stayed home to practice bass, do some reading or writing in her room; no formalities beyond plaid boxers, tank top, favorite flannel shirt; door closed. Her housemate had a very special date with the ex. He was newly single and Dedra elected to take advantage of it-fancy dinner and who knows? It could work. About half past midnight a clumsy sounding entrance at the front door suggested loudly that it hadn't. There was further bumbling about, a shoe being thrown against a wall? Muffled cursing? A body falling down? It didn't sound happy and June didn't want to investigate. She could maybe hide but she couldn't run.
The thumpings in the other bedroom subsided behind the scratchings of a bedside radio. A telephone rang followed by a muffled conversation, maybe sobbing, an intermittent mewling, footsteps tripping in the hallway, a knock on the door and a slurring, "June? R'you'wake?"
It was too late to feign absence or sleep. "Uh, yes?"
"C'n I tock t'you?"
"What is it, De?" Then, "Come on in. I'm right here."
The door slowly swung inward. A drunken blonde and disheveled head poked its way in and chuckled, reassuring itself. Slipping her whole body in, she leaned back against the wall and languished sexily. Dedra had earlier been a bombshell in a slinky purple dress and it seemed the bomb had fallen and not exploded. Her eyes were red, makeup smeared, dress hanging sleazily in some places, elegantly in others, an unruly bra strap betraying a revealing neckline. The only thing missing was a growling saxophone. In the lamplight the girl's pose was a last-ditch effort to believe she could have been a classy chick, a contender.
June set down her book. "So how was your date?"
The druggy bombshell blinked and pushed away from the wall, losing balance but not quite falling. Steadying herself, she smiled, chuckled again, and lurched over to the bed where she almost landed, instead stumbled short and onto the floor. "Ow!" Adjusting the shiny dress, she crawled up and flopped facedown onto the foot of the mattress, saying, "My dade. My dade. It was wund'fl?"
"I doubt that," June muttered, then scolded, "You did not drive home, did you?"
"Me? Nonononono?god cab."
"Where's your truck right now?"
"Truhg. D'in dribe truhg."
"Where's your truck?"
"Truhg? I?don' no?"
"Dammit, Dedra." June slid down from her perch against the wall, grabbed Dedra by the shoulders and rolled her onto her back. "You're way fucked up. What the hell happened tonight?"
"I had a dade." Her hand reached up to rub her forehead and she repeated, "I had a dade."
"OK, I know that part. What happened on your date?"
"I?" Dilated eyes crossed in an effort to focus.
June jumped up and went into her friend's room, found the purse she had no doubt used that night and searched through it for wallet, money, ID, credit cards and keys. The keys were on the floor. In the purse nothing appeared to be missing; a couple of joints were stuffed into a secret pocket, with them a small pouch of pills and a smaller vial of cocaine. She rushed to the kitchen and filled a glass with water. Back in her room she pulled Dedra into a sitting position, tilted the glass against her lips and said, "Drink."
"Nod thursdee?"
"Shut up and do what I say. Drink!"
"Buh?" She took a sip. Then a bigger sip. "Oh. Wah'er." She grabbed the glass and began gulping it, spilling a rivulet down a chin to drip into her cleavage. She giggled into the clear liquid, another stream dripping onto her chest.
"What happened tonight? Tell me." June set the glass away on the nightstand. "You've been drinking and doing drugs, you idiot. I found them in your purse. Now tell me!" She took the little skull by the jaw and turned it facing her.
"Uhh?"-eyes blinking again, trying to focus-"I? It was, it was?"-the zombie face crumbled, mouth trying to form words-"Nobah'y loves me?"
"Oh, geeezzz."
"Nobah'y loves me."
June tried to put an arm around her friend, the bombshell detonating at last.
Thirty minutes later the sad little trollop had surrendered the slinky dress and was resting under the covers, drained of energy but coherent. June sat calmly-no chance of an overdose or likelihood of pregnancy. The girl's date had started well but run aground. They had a hopeful discussion but Luke did not want to renew the romance. After the good wine and powerful spell of candlelight, and thinking she could handle that dazed reality, she stood in the ladies room of the restaurant scrutinizing herself in the mirror and tearfully decided she may be down but she was not out. Face washed and makeup fixed, she found her truck and drove away to visit a bartender at the hip little lounge where her Seattle sorrows could fashionably be drowned or snorted away. It wasn't every night she was dressed to the nines on four-inch heels. The wise bartender poured her into a cab when she twice traded the barstool for the floor, before she tried to stand and break her ankles.
Denial is the most deceptive drug; self-flagellation only raises the ante. The night was not over but she would be protected til the morning. Some hot tea and they talked, listening to ebbing rain flurries meld with the wheezing radio in the other bedroom.
"I don't know about you but I have to work in the morning, so move over." It was 1:35 a.m.
"Should I go to my room?"
"We already decided you need to sleep right where you are. I'm your bodyguard, remember?"
"No, I don't want to be any trouble. Maybe I should?" Dedra stirred upward.
"Hey!" June shoved the girl back into the pillows. "You're staying right there. No arguments." With a tired laugh she said, "I mean?you really made a mess of something tonight. I gotta make sure you don't go for any extra points in this game."
"Right."
"Oh, the things I don't do for my friends." Standing, June removed her flannel, tossed it across the room and climbed under the covers. "Come on, gimme some room. Move over."
"Sorry." Her friend shifted to the far side of the bed.
"Aahhhh." June settled in. "I gotta hand it to you, De. You really knocked one outta the park tonight."
"That's bad, isn't it?"
"Well, not completely. If we just consider that outfit you had on, wow. I'm sure you looked absolutely stunning earlier. A home run there."
"But it sure didn't do what it should have. I'm sure that was part of the problem."
"Geeezzz, maybe I shouldn't try to compliment you?" June winced. "I still think you must have looked great. I mean, maybe you're scarred and scraped but you're still a damned attractive gal, y'know? Your ex missed a damn fine opportunity."
The thundercloud in Dedra's head burst. The two women laid in the lamplight unspeaking. June folded her hands behind her head and stared into the shadows that hung at the corners of the ceiling. She wanted to sleep, but?
"I think I know what's wrong."
"I'm what's wrong," the diminished little blonde blubbered. "I'm a self-destructive whore."
"No, De, that's not it at all."
"What, then?"
"The problem is?we can't roll around in the mud anymore."
"Huh? Whaddaya mean?"
"Well," she said, squinting, "it's kinda like we used to be able to just go outside, out into some field somewhere and get dirty. Y'know, just get it all over you."
"Mmmm?"
"Lotsa muss, no fuss."
"I'm not sure if I?" Dedra sniffled and wiped at her tears. "What are you saying?"
"Just what I'm saying."
"Which is?"
"That we've lost the ability to get dirty. Get it all over us and wallow in it." Staring into the shadows, the philosopher said, "We've lost the means but not the need."
"Uh?hmmm."
"Don't you get it?"
"I don't know." She s
hook her head. "I don't know anything anymore."
"Bullshit. You're too smart to not know what I mean."
"Huh."
"You are."
"Well, you better help me cuz I don't get it."
"OK. How do I spell this out?"
"Try typing. No mistakes."
"Oooooh," the big girl snickered, "you don't demand much."
"No."
"Well, the closest I can do is longhand."
"That'll do, I guess."
"She said graciously."
"Uh, yeah."
"OK, it's like this." June stretched her arms and fingers out as if considering a scenic vista. "We've never been able to get rid of dirt or rain or mud or anything of that ilk. But it's there because we need it. Serves a purpose. And that's why we're here too."
"The meaning of life?"
"Hardly"-dropping arms to chest-"Maybe the cause of it."
"Hmmm."
The rain had stopped; the anemic radio wheezed on. The little blonde turned onto her side, digging deeper into the comfort of the bedding. June said, "So we got all this mud, see, and we choose to get rid of it cuz everyone thinks they don't wanna get dirty anymore." With a gesture of puzzlement she continued, "Modern man, y'know. But the mud never goes away and everything still gets dirty but no one seems to notice that's where things grow. So here we are taking more and more baths to wash less and less dirt. Kinda stupid, doncha think?"
"A plea for the watershed."
"No. You're not listening to me."
"Yeah, I am."
"Well, you're not hearing it."
"OK, OK, I'm trying," Dedra shot back, rolling her swollen, wet, dilated eyeballs. "Go ahead. I'm listening."
"All right. So there's all this mud, right, and no one taking advantage of it."
"You mean to get dirty?"
"Pree-cisely. A plea for the dirt."
"The dirt? But what's so?"
"C'mon. It's a plea for the dirt and for using it the way it was meant to be used."
"Hmmm."
"You got your loaves and you got your fishes. That kinda thing." Big Junie shifted her body around, yawning heavily. "You got your water and you got your dishes. You gotta stick your hands in there to get anything clean and maybe get some on ya if you're gonna do the job right. Don't you know how good it feels to get all dirty and grimy and slimy?"
"Uh, it's really not one of my favorite things."
"You're no help."
"Sorry."
"OK, look. Can't you think back to a time when-like when you're a little kid-when you used to be able to get totally dirty? I mean, filthy. And not care if you did cuz no one else did? Not even your parents?"
"Uh, yeah. Sure." The blonde bundle perked up. "I was Miss Ink-Rag!"
"Now you got it." She snapped fingers in classic Beat style. "You was the queen; no one was mean. No one gave ya shit cuz that was normal. You was just doin' what come naturally."
"Those were the days."
"Then they made ya take baths. Forced ya to take 'em. Made ya feel bad if you get a little dirty." June ceased finger-popping, wrinkled her nose and launched into a parody of parental upbraiding. "Wear a pretty dress! Scrub your face! Comb your hair! Don't touch that, it'll stain! Don't hang upside down, you're wearing a dress! Don't have any fun!"
"You know it," De giggled.
"And it's all over, kitten. That's when they've got ya by the balls." Holding out a hand in a squeezing motion, June quickly emphasized her middle finger and thumb. "I mean, the TWAT. That's when they got you by the DAMN TWAT!"
"Oh no." Dedra pulled the blankets over her head.
"Oh yeah. But I'm kinda getting off on a tangent."
"That's OK," said a muffled voice.
"No, not right now. We'll get back to the twat later."
"Hmmm." A giggle leaked from under the covers.
"So you get pushed into this dirtless state by a gritless society and there ya go. Scrubbed into indignity."
"I don' know."
"It's not so bad on boys. Boys get to be boys a while longer. They don't have to be pretty or comb their hair or wear nice things. It's like a sign of manhood to be dirty, y'know. But?" June's mouth gaped open, releasing a big yawn. "But soon enough they gotta take their baths too."
"Ha." A face emerged from under the blankets.
"And when that happens we're all fucked." The philosophy refugee held up both hands, shaking two middle fingers at the air. "They got ya believing that clean is the natural state of things and that dirty is bad. And it's not just your body. It's everything. Your clothes, your car, your house, your thoughts?"
"Your words."
"Bingo. Dirt is evil. And I think puberty is used as a tool to reinforce that idea."
"June, June, June, June, June?" Dedra sang quietly.
Another protracted yawn. The Big J rubbed her eyes and dared to look at the clock. Edging on 2:00 a.m. "You get my drift now."
"Amazing. That explains everything."
"Everything?"
"The times you walk around in the mud."
"Dirt will hurt you much less than a sterilized needle."
The confederate grey eyes lost the sparkle of the last few minutes. A blizzard of lethal thoughts swirled up through a grate on a city sidewalk: skirts rising, settling, snow shaken in Winter globes. Downcast again, she said, "Is it all really that simple?"
"Yeah, if you just look at it directly." June reached over and rapped knuckles against the blonde head. "You need to let that sink in. You don't have to be a disaster, you know." Another yawn, this one fatal. June reached to the nightstand, made sure the alarm was set, clicked off the lamp and rolled onto her side, facing away.
"God, why am I so stupid?"
"Dedra, you're not stupid."
"Yes I am."
"No, you're not." A half yawn, half sigh glided into a landing. "You're one of the most smartest fools I've ever met in my life."
"Most smartest fools?"
"We're all fools." June's voice was floating out to sea. "Tha's why I put up with you. S'why I love you. Can't you get it through your thick little skull?"
Her breathing became heavier, throatier, the radio buzzed and scratched from a faraway shore. Weak gusts of wind pressed against rooftops, windowpanes, something lightly clanging in the night. Automobiles danced through dark streets, a chorus line in an urban musical. Like unplayed notes in a nocturnal symphony, unsounded nightsticks thudding against the sky, golden tears falling against a pillow.
"June?"
"hmmm?"
"Have you ever wished?that you were a man?"
"mmhmm. haven't you?"
"Yeah. Kinda wish I were a man right now."
"glad you're not. too many funny ideas."
"Junie?"
"what now?"
"Thank you? For everything?"
"s'nothing."
"Goodnight."
"mmmm."
