A Perfect Romance

by Layce Gardner

  "I saw you talking to somebody."

  "Oh yeah? So, what was I saying then?"

  "I don't know, but I saw your mouth moving."

  "Maybe I was chewing gum."

  "Maybe you were talking to your lover."

  "Maybe I was singing along with the radio."

  This line of questioning was getting Dana nowhere fast. "Forget it."

  "Okay, truce. Olive?" Kimmy held out an olive speared on her artificial fingernail like it was an olive branch.

  Dana waved it away. "Kimmy, we need to talk. Seriously talk."

  "Is this about your weight again?"

  "No. And I really wish everybody would shut up about my weight." Dana forced a smile, more for herself than for Kimmy. "We need to talk about us. I have a few questions and I would appreciate truthful answers."

  "I have a question too," Kimmy said, chomping on another olive. "How do you think they get the little pimento into the little hole? Do they pay little people to put them in there? Wouldn't that be an awful job to have all day long, stuffing pimentos into olive holes?"

  "Machines do it."

  She crinkles her forehead in thought. "Really?"

  "We're getting off track. Back to us. I haven't seen you in a week. You never come home except to change clothes and wax your pussy. Where have you been and who with?"

  "Okay," she said with an exaggerated sigh. "I'll tell you the truth."

  "Please do."

  "I'm trying to better myself," she said.

  Great. She's trading up. I'll be the first to admit that I'm not that great of a catch, but I do own my own business and I can lose twenty pounds if I really want to.

  Kimmy said, "I'm taking a night class over at the college."

  Dana was stunned. "Wha'?"

  "I'm studying accounting. Five or four more classes and I could be an accountant. I wouldn't have to be a beautician anymore and I'd probably make a lot more money."

  "You're bettering yourself through the college's continuing education classes?"

  She nodded. "I could be the accountant for your business. Aren't you proud of me?"

  "Sure," Dana said. She felt horrible. Horribly guilty for thinking such bad thoughts about Kimmy when all she was doing was trying to improve her lot in life. "That's great."

  Dana slumped down in her chair until her chin was eye-level with the table.

  "Well, you sure have a funny way of showing it," Kimmy said. She tossed an olive in the air and caught it in her mouth.

  Dana said half-heartedly, "Well, I'm glad you're being pro-active about taking care of yourself."

  "I'm doing it for us."

  Dana peeked over the edge of the table. "Does that mean you love me?"

  "Why do you always ask that?"

  "Because I want to know the answer. A truthful answer."

  Kimmy pursed her lips and thought hard. Dana figured if Kimmy had to think that hard about it, she already had her answer.

  "I think," Kimmy said, "love is never having to say ‘I love you.’"

  If our relationship were a movie that would be the perfect tagline.

  "Next question." Dana sat back up and looked her directly in the eye, daring her to lie. "Are you seeing somebody else?"

  Kimmy met her gaze head-on and answered, "I could say no and you wouldn't believe me and you'd get mad. I could say yes and you'd believe me and you'd get mad. Either way you're going to get mad, so why don't you save yourself some time and go ahead, get mad and get it out of your system."

  She had a point. Dana tried another question, "Where do you see us going with our relationship? Do you think we should stay together? Do you think we're even good together?"

  Kimmy put an elbow on the table and cupped her chin. "Truthfully, Dana, I don't know. All I know is that I go to work, I come home and you're always sniffing around me like I did something wrong. I can't go to the bathroom without you knocking on the door and asking what I'm doing. You're very needy, you know. If you ask me, you're the one who has the commitment issues, not me."

  "I am committed!"

  "Sometimes people commit to the wrong people for the right reasons. You should set aside some time for self-examination. Maybe you could get a grip on your neediness."

  "You think I'm needy? Because I want to be the only lover you have? That's not needy, that's normal."

  "You're not exactly in danger of anybody calling you normal," she stated.

  "So you think I'm crazy?"

  She lets out a long, exasperated sigh. "Let me put it this way. You rotate towels and dishes and your underwear. You always do things in threes. You still live with your grandmother and talk to your cat. You say you're a writer, but you never write. Everybody down at the beauty shop is talking about how you joined up with AA and that you must be a closet drinker because nobody's ever seen you have a problem with it. So you're either pretending to be an alcoholic or you think you really are one. Either way, it's crazy."

  "Well, if you say it like that..." Dana's head was spinning out of control. She began to defend the accusations by saying, "I rotate stuff because that only makes good sense. If I didn't rotate my stack of underwear from top to bottom then I would always end up wearing the same seven pair of underwear and they'd get all raggedy-ass and—"

  Kimmy had heard it all before. She interrupted Dana's harangue, "You know, sometimes I worry for my safety. I'm afraid to go to sleep because you might make sure I don't wake up. You know how scary it is to sleep next to somebody who's crazy?"

  "I'm not going to poof you if that's what you think."

  "Poof?"

  "It's an expression. It means kill."

  "Do you want to kill me? Because I woke up one night and you were staring at me in the dark.'"

  "You had stopped breathing. I was checking to see if you were alive."

  "I was holding my breath because you were staring me."

  "You know, Kimmy, I may do a few small crazy-like things, but I don't think you're really scared of me. I think you're scared of commitment."

  "There you go with the K word again."

  "C."

  "See what?"

  Dana sighed. "You're so scared of the K word that you can't even turn on your car's blinker."

  Kimmy shook some more olives into her hand. "I might change my mind. How am I supposed to always know that I want to turn left a whole half a block ahead of time?"

  "Most people know where they're going."

  She looked Dana in the eye and said slowly, punching each word. "Do you?" She tilted her head back and looked down her nose at Dana. "Do you know where you're going? Do you even know who you are? Look at yourself. Are you Wonder Woman? Are you Dana Dooley, the writer? Are you Dana Dooley, the alcoholic? How do you expect me to love somebody that doesn't even know who they are?" She screwed the lid back on the olive jar.

  How is that somebody so damn dumb can be so insightful?

  The lid slipped off the jar and toppled on the table, spinning round like a top. Kimmy grabbed the lid and tried to screw it back on the olive jar. It fell off again.

  "Righty tighty," Dana said.

  "Huh?" Kimmy asked.

  Dana picked up the lid and handed it to her, saying, "Lefty loosey, righty tighty."

  Kimmy puts the lid back on the jar and turned it to her left.

  "Your other right."

  Kimmy reversed direction and the lid spun on.

  "Kimmy, you know what?" Dana said. "Let's break up. You can stay here until you find a place if that's what you're worried about. I'll even help you find a nice apartment. I'll even promise you your first accounting job after you finish your CPA thingie-ma-jig."

  Kimmy thought that over for a full two seconds. "No, thank you. I'll stick it out with you. You need me to take care of you."

  Dana should've seen that one coming. Every time in the past she'd ever made noises about breaking up, Kimmy would come flying into her arms.

  "But you said it yourself. You can't love me. You don't kn
ow who I am."

  "No. What I said was that you don't know who you are." Kimmy reached across the table and took Dana's hand in her hands. "It's not rocket surgery, Dana. You can figure it out. I believe in you."

  Dana pulled her hand away and crossed her arms over her chest. "I want to break up. I want you to move out. I want you to take your dog and leave." There she said it. She couldn't be more clear than that.

  "Is there somebody else?" Kimmy asked.

  How does she do this? Now she's the one accusing me of playing around? How'd that happen?

  "No, there's nobody else."

  Kimmy stood, threw one leg over Dana's lap like she was getting on a horse and licked her ear. "Can she do this to you?"

  "There isn't anybody else."

  Kimmy placed her palms over Dana’s boobs and flicked her nipples with her thumbs. "Can she do this?"

  "I said there isn't anybody else." Dana felt her nipples harden and silently cursed them for being traitors. "But if there were somebody else, then yes, I suppose she too could pinch my nipples."

  Kimmy looked at Dana, trying to catch the lie somewhere on her face. They locked eyes for a long moment. Dana was reminded of that old adage that said the eyes were the window to the soul. If that were true, then there was a sign hanging in Kimmy's window that said "gone fishin'."

  Kimmy pressed her lips against Dana's. Dana liked green olives but not enough to taste them secondhand. She tried to squirm out from under Kimmy.

  "And this?" Kimmy asked, darting her tongue in and out of Dana's ear. "Can she do this?"

  A moan escaped Dana's lips and she squirmed again, but this time she may have squirmed a little against her, instead of away from her. Kimmy moved her hand to Dana's crotch, urgently caressing her through the unitard. She moaned in Dana's ear, "I love how you feel."

  It had been way too long since Dana had had sex. She felt her body caving in and her mind going on strike. Kimmy's rubbing became more insistent and Dana's breath caught in her throat.

  "I want you to come for me," Kimmy breathed into Dana's ear, sending shivers down to just the right spot. "I want you to come hard."

  "Good God," said a voice behind Dana.

  Kimmy stopped and looked over Dana's shoulder. Her eyes grew wide and she asked, "Who are you?"

  Dana twisted in her chair and saw Leona. Her lit cigarette was dangling out of her mouth and she had a plastic Walmart bag slung over her shoulder like it was a purse. She smelled like lemon pepper chicken.

  "Don't stop on account of me," Leona said. She pulled her flask out of her pocket and took a snort. She placed the bag on the table and sat down across from Dana and Kimmy. She inhaled on her cigarette and said, "I'm not a prude. I saw a lesbian porno once. But it looked like two straight women rubbing soap bubbles all over each other and giggling. This looks more real."

  Something inside Dana clicked. "I need some fresh air."

  She pushed Kimmy out of her lap and stood. "I need to leave."

  She walked out of the kitchen. "I need a new life."

  She walked out of the house. The screen door slammed shut behind her.

  Kimmy's voice taunted Dana as she headed down the street, "What about my needs?"

  ***

  Dana had only walked about two blocks when the Thunderbird pulled up alongside her. The window rolled down and a cloud of cigarette smoke boiled out.

  Dana stopped and faced Leona.

  Leona didn't brake. The Thunderbird kept moving. She stopped the car about twenty feet away. Dana watched as Leona shifted the car into reverse. The tires rolled and crunched over gravel until Leona's face in the window was right in front of Dana.

  Dana spoke first. "I need a cigarette."

  Leona leaned out the window and shook a pack of Marlboro Reds. Dana took a cigarette out of the pack and stuck it in her mouth. She sucked on it. And exhaled slowly.

  Leona reached out with a cigarette lighter, but Dana waved it away. "I don't smoke anymore."

  Leona coughed.

  Dana blew twin streams of non-smoke out her nostrils. "I hate you, you know that?"

  "I figured."

  "I've spent most of my life hating you."

  "You're not so special. Lots of people hate me."

  "Why are you here then?"

  "Believe it or not...I love you."

  "You got a funny way of showing it."

  "It ain't all that funny."

  Dana sucked on the cigarette and fake-ashed. She took a moment to formulate her thoughts, then said, "Most of what's wrong with me is your fault, you know. What you see standing before you is your creation."

  "How could that be? I wasn't even around for the most part."

  "I’m a lesbian because I never had a proper father figure and because I'm always trying to find a mother in my choice of mates."

  "Bullshit. You're a lesbian because you got that gene from your daddy's side of the family. His own sister was a dyke. At least you didn't get her little beard problem."

  "Hush up!" Dana exploded. She punched the air between them with her finger, saying, "That's one of the problems. Nobody ever listens to what I have to say. They're too busy telling me what they want me to think and say."

  Leona hushed up.

  Dana holstered her pointing finger and in a calmer tone said, "Let me do the talking, please. For once, let me speak my mind without being interrupted."

  Leona nodded and inhaled on her cigarette.

  "Okay, I was born a lesbian, I'll grant you that much. It makes life harder, but it's not that big of a deal. Most of the time I like it."

  Leona nodded.

  "But all the other stuff is your fault."

  "What other—"

  "I said hush it!"

  Leona did.

  Dana continued, "I grew up thinking my own mother didn't love me. I filled the hole you left with peanut butter and ice cream and cake and beef jerky. I was a fat kid who turned into a fat teenager who became a fat woman and all that fat is nothing but unhappiness weighing me down. My unhappiness is so heavy that some days it's too hard to even pick up my feet. All that fat and sadness has me squished down so low you could sweep me up in a dustpan and throw me in the garbage...and nobody would even notice."

  Dana blinked away tears and continued in a trembling voice, " I can't eat one little thing without thinking about how many calories it has or what kind of carbs it has and everything sits inside me like a hunk of lead and even with all that in my belly, I'm still hungry, still wanting."

  Leona exhaled a stream of smoke out her mouth and sucked it right back up her nose.

  "I can't hold down a relationship because I'm always afraid they're going to leave me. They're going to leave me like you did. And I'll end up fat and alone."

  Leona exhaled words with the smoke, "Sounds like you got a bad case of the poor me's."

  Dana tossed the cigarette to the ground and squished it with an angry twist of her shoe. "You know what I have to say about that? Eff you!"

  "You can't even cuss right. How'd I ever end up with a daughter who can't even cuss right?"

  "Fuck you!" Dana kicked gravel toward the rear of the car.

  "That's good. Now if you could say that to people once in a while you'd feel a whole lot better about yourself."

  "Yeah, thanks for the great fucking advice." She turned and stalked down the street.

  Leona called after her, "And you're not fat. You're beautiful."

  Thirteen

  Dana headed for Trudy's but then realized Trudy was probably at work by now. So she turned the other direction and headed on foot toward The Best Little Hairhouse, where she had left her car before she was unjustly arrested. Hopefully it was still there and they hadn't impounded it.

  She turned a corner and was almost run over by a little boy riding his bike. His bottom half was dressed as a cowboy with jeans, boots, plastic spurs and twin six-shooters on his hips. His top half was dressed Indian-style with a fringed shirt and a war bonnet on his head. The
cowboy/Indian slammed on his brakes and looked her up and down. Embarrassed by the boy's open scrutiny, Dana pulled her bathrobe-cape around herself.

  "Who're you supposed to be?" the boy asked.

  "Good question," Dana mumbled and kept walking.

  A couple of blocks later, she saw Lloyd the Mailman's mail truck. She figured she could save him a trip up her sidewalk if she stopped and got her mail from him. Lloyd the Mailman was a really old guy with arthritic knees that looked like tree burls under his shorts and he'd probably appreciate the courtesy. She walked up to the front of the truck and looked inside. He wasn't there. She looked up and down the street, but Lloyd the Mailman wasn't anywhere to be seen.

  She was about to walk away when the mail truck bounced up and down. She froze. She stared at the truck. It rocked. Then stopped. Then swayed. And stopped.

  She took a tentative step toward the truck. "Lloyd?"

  The truck vibrated, then bounced up and down.

  "Lloyd, is that you in there?"

  When there was no answer, Dana's imagination kicked into high gear and she conjured up all kinds of scenarios: Lloyd the Mailman was hog-tied in back of the truck, beaten and bleeding. He'd been robbed and left for dead. Somebody had stolen all the disability checks he was carrying.

  It was the first of the month.

  Or he could've been the victim of a gang rape.

  That would explain the bouncing up and down.

  Maybe it was because she had on her Wonder Woman costume or maybe it was because she needed a way to channel all her untapped sexual energy or maybe the caffeine was just now hitting her bloodstream, but whatever it was, she flew to the rescue. She ran to the back of the truck, threw open the rolling door and yelled, "I command you to stop this monkey business right now!"

  "Shut the door!"

  Dana did a double-take. It was Ellen. Ellen was dressed in Lloyd's polyester postal uniform. The pants were pooled around her ankles. She was squatting and her bare butt was aimed in Dana's direction. If she wasn't so startled she would've taken the time to admire the view.

  "What're you doing?" Dana asked. Because even though she was a writer who possessed a more vivid imagination than most people, she couldn't imagine a scenario that would fit this strange display.