He blinked at her. ‘I’d like it if you liked it. Only if it was comfortable for you. Or it doesn’t matter.’
‘Then maybe I’ll try it.’ She looked at the empty space next to her on the couch and cinched her robe tighter.
‘That might be nice.’ Pulpy reached in and moved some hair off her forehead. The way Midge’s hair feathered at the sides of her head was like the scalloped edge of a seashell, and he loved that about her.
‘Although I really think it would be uncomfortable. They look uncomfortable,’ she said. ‘Plus nobody I know wears one. At least, nobody’s told me they do.’
‘Would your friends tell you they were wearing a thong?’ The seashell scallops didn’t show up in photos, and Pulpy thought that was a shame. ‘I think my friends would be embarrassed to tell me.’
‘Your friends wouldn’t wear a thong.’
He nodded and started putting on his boots. ‘I should get to work.’
‘Let’s have the evening to ourselves tonight,’ she said. ‘I want it to be just us. I’ll show off my new hairdo for you.’
‘Okay, that sounds nice. They won’t cut too much, though, will they?’
‘I’ll tell them.’ She smiled at him. ‘How’s your fish? I bet it’s fun having him on your desk.’
‘Oh, fine.’ He lifted his right foot to pull on that boot and nearly lost his balance.
She reached out to steady him. ‘Mr. Fins loves it in our bedroom. He just swims and swims.’
‘Pulpy!’ said Dan’s voice as soon as Pulpy sat down.
Pulpy jerked, and Eduardo in the next cubicle leaned back a little to see around their partition.
Dan came up and clapped Pulpy on the back. ‘Beatrice and I had a great time with you and Midge last night!’
‘Well.’ Pulpy watched Eduardo listening. ‘Thank you. We did too.’
‘A great time. And I was thinking – Beatrice and I were saying to each other after you left – that you are exactly the person we need to set things right around here.’
‘I am?’
‘You are.’
‘Is Beatrice here today?’
‘She’s going to start tomorrow.’ Dan focused on Pulpy’s computer screen. ‘She had some appointments to attend.’
Pulpy moved his cursor, just to do something. ‘Midge is getting her hair cut today.’
‘There you go.’ Dan smiled at him. ‘Beatrice was saying she’d love to go shopping with Midge sometime. Do you think Midge would like that?’
‘Oh, sure.’ He nodded. ‘Sure she would.’
‘Great. You know, Pulpy, I think we can really do a lot better here. There is definite room for improvement in this office, and as head of the Social Committee you could be a real force for change.’
‘Do we have a Social Committee?’
‘We do now. You can’t organize a potluck without a Social Committee.’
‘Hmm,’ said Pulpy. ‘I never really think of myself as a force.’
‘Well, you can start today. Because a force is what you are. A force to be reckoned with.’
Pulpy looked down at his chest and pulled at his shirt to make the buttons align more evenly. ‘Maybe you’re right.’
‘I know I am. And I’m glad to see you’re coming around. Now all we need is some forward momentum and there’s nothing we can’t do.’
He pinched his fingers along the neat fold down the front of his new pants. ‘Then I guess it’s worth a try.’
‘So!’ Dan put his hands on his hips. ‘What are you and Midge up to this evening?’
‘Hmm, well. I’m not sure.’
‘Great! We’ll come over.’
‘Oh, Pulpy, my hair looks awful!’
‘What happened?’ Pulpy had the pay phone between his cheek and his shoulder and was holding a napkin dispenser from one of the food-court tables. He pulled out a napkin and dabbed it onto the mustard stain on his new pants.
‘I said to her, “The front and the sides are good. Don’t touch the front or the sides. The top and the back, that’s all I need done.” But she didn’t listen to me!’
‘I’m sure it looks fine. But maybe you should try a different hairdresser next time.’
‘I couldn’t do that.’ She went quiet for a second. ‘I’ve been with her for so long, Pulpy. We have a history together. And then what if the new hairdresser did a bad job? A worse job? Then I’d have to go back to my old hairdresser and she’d know I’d seen someone else and it would be very uncomfortable.’
‘You could if you wanted to.’ The stain wasn’t coming out. He shoved the soiled napkin into the breast pocket of his coat and pulled a fresh one out of the dispenser. ‘It’s all about reframing.’
‘Where did you hear that?’
‘The receptionist. She’s taking a course.’
‘Hmm,’ said Midge.
‘Did we have a plan for tonight?’ he said. ‘Were we doing anything?’
‘No, we said we were staying in, remember?’
Neither of them said anything for a few seconds and then Pulpy cleared his throat. ‘Guess what? Dan made me the head of the Social Committee.’
‘He did? That’s got to be a good sign. Has he said anything about your promotion yet?’
‘Not yet. But I’m organizing a potluck. I have to make a sign-up sheet.’ He lost his grip on the napkin and it drifted to the floor. ‘Dan also said Beatrice wants to go shopping with you.’
‘What? But I don’t even know her.’
‘But at the Ice Follies. You got to know her then. And she’s my boss’s wife.’
‘I know she’s your boss’s wife. I just didn’t like the way she looked at you. Or me. She has a very judgmental way of looking at other women. She starts at their shoes and then she looks up, like to see what kind of a person would be wearing those shoes.’
‘Really? I didn’t notice that.’
‘Well, you wouldn’t. You always give people the benefit of the doubt, Pulpy. That’s what gets you in trouble.’ Midge sighed. ‘Why would she want to go shopping with me?’
‘I don’t know. Maybe she’s lonely.’
‘How can she be lonely? She’s married.’
‘Sometimes married people get lonely,’ he said.
‘Not us, though, right?’
‘No way.’ His neck was hurting, so he tried to reposition the phone by squishing his cheek sideways, but the motion dislodged the receiver and it fell and swung in a wide arc on its cord. He grabbed for it, letting go of the napkin dispenser. ‘Hello? Midge?’ The dispenser banged onto the floor.
‘What happened?’ she said. ‘What was all that noise?’
‘Nothing. I just – Nothing.’ He toed the dispenser, unsuccessfully trying to right it.
Pulpy sat in front of his computer screen and typed ‘Food To Bring To The Potluck.’
He looked at that for a minute and then changed it to ‘Food I Will Bring To The Potluck.’
He cursored back. ‘Potluck (Food) Contribution.’
That one made him nod. He spaced down and typed ‘Employee Name’ and made a bunch of lines underneath. Then he hit Print.
When he went downstairs to post the sign-up sheet, the receptionist said to him, ‘Do you smell that?’
He sniffed the air. ‘Popcorn.’
‘That’s right. I hate popcorn! I can’t stand the smell of it.’ She glowered. ‘He thinks he’s so smart, but he’s not. He’s stupid.’
‘Who?’
‘You know who. He comes up to me with a package at the end of the day yesterday. “Would you overnight this for me?” he says. “Overnight this.” Like he’s making up some new language. Like he can’t be bothered saying, “Would you send this by overnight courier, please?” A “please” would’ve been nice. But that’s not even the point. “Overnight this.”’ She sucked on her teeth in disgust.
‘So did you?’
‘Did I what?’
‘Over – Send it by overnight courier?’
‘Of course I
did. He’s my boss, isn’t he? I have to do what he says, but I don’t have to like the way he says it.’
‘Have you met his wife yet?’
‘No.’ She scowled. ‘Why?’
‘Nothing.’ He waved a hand. ‘Hey, where do you get your hair cut?’
‘What?’
‘What stylist do you go to?’
She reached up and touched her hair. ‘You wouldn’t know him.’
‘No, but my wife – she needs a new hairdresser. So I just thought –’
‘Hold on, I think I might have one of his cards somewhere.’ She picked up her purse, pulled out a business card and gave it to him.
‘Thanks.’ He looked at the card. ‘“Artistic Ladies Hair Cut. Dedicated to Your Satisfaction.” That sounds nice.’
‘Yeah, he’s good.’ She yanked a pencil out of her pen-and-pencil cage and then fitted it back in. ‘I think so, anyway. Just don’t ask my boyfriend.’ She squeezed the pencil’s pink eraser nub. ‘He doesn’t know anything.’
Pulpy put the card in his pocket and placed the sign-up sheet on her desk. ‘I’m organizing a potluck for the office. Do you want to put yourself down for something?’
She glanced at the sheet and then pushed it away. ‘I’ll probably have to cover the desk.’
‘Oh. Hmm. I don’t know.’ He picked up the paper and looked at the fish. ‘Maybe I should change the fish’s water.’
‘I guess so.’ She put a finger into the fishbowl and swirled it. ‘Just not right now.’
‘Sure,’ he said. ‘I’ll do it later, then.’
‘Hey, there he is,’ said Eduardo when Pulpy walked into the kitchen. He was eating popcorn with Carmelita from the Parts Department and Jim from Packaging.
‘You know, when you microwave popcorn,’ said Pulpy, ‘the smell fills the entire workplace.’
‘Yeah, so?’ Eduardo shook the paper bag so it rattled, and Jim stuck his hand in.
‘I’m just saying,’ said Pulpy, and turned away to pin the sign-up sheet to the bulletin board.
‘What’s that for?’ said Carmelita.
Pulpy wrote his name on the first line of the sign-up sheet, then his pen hovered over the contribution space. ‘It’s for the company potluck.’ He left it blank and took a step back.
‘Oh yeah?’ She picked a piece of kernel out of her teeth and walked a few steps forward. ‘When is it?’
‘Next Tuesday.’
The three of them advanced on him and studied the sheet.
‘Do we have to make something?’ said Jim. ‘Or can it be store-bought?’
‘Sure, I guess you could buy something.’
‘You got a pen?’ said Carmelita.
‘I have this one but it’s from my desk. Maybe I’ll put a string up, with a pen attached. In case people don’t have one with them. I don’t even know what I’m bringing yet. Dan just asked me to make up this list.’
‘Ooh, the new boss,’ said Eduardo. ‘So this is his idea?’
‘I’m organizing it, though,’ said Pulpy.
‘Lucky you.’ Eduardo elbowed Carmelita. ‘Stand up and let’s get a look at you.’
She curtsied, then said in a high voice, ‘What’s a vision statement?’
Eduardo stuck out his tongue and panted, and the three of them snickered into their buttery fists.
Pulpy stared at them. ‘I should get going,’ he said, and headed for the door.
‘See you later,’ said Carmelita.
Jim waved, but Eduardo just kept eating popcorn.
‘It doesn’t look bad,’ said Pulpy. ‘It looks pretty.’
Midge’s hand went up to poke at her new hairdo. She still had the scallops, but now there were fewer of them on the left side. ‘It’s lopsided. It leans to the right.’
‘I don’t think so.’ He was sitting at the kitchen table and she was standing by the sink. There were two artichokes on the counter.
She tilted her head at him and the lump of her hair shifted irregularly. Then she pushed one of the scaly green vegetables so it wobbled. ‘The worst part was I had to go around on my route afterwards, Pulpy. I had to ring people’s doorbells and say hello to everyone with this hair.’
‘It does bounce a little differently.’
‘What?’
‘But that’s all. That’s nothing. What’s bouncing got to do with anything? Here, look at this –’ He reached into his pocket and handed her the receptionist’s hairdresser’s card.
‘“Artistic Ladies”?’ She looked between him and the card. ‘What is this?’
‘The receptionist goes to them. She has nice hair.’
Midge handed the card back to him and turned on the tap, hard. ‘Thank you.’
‘You’re welcome.’
‘I’m making us artichokes.’ She held one under the water. ‘I thought we could have a quiet, relaxing night in tonight, just us and our artichokes.’
‘Hmm,’ said Pulpy. ‘Well, Dan and Beatrice are coming over in a bit so I guess it won’t be just us.’
‘What do you mean? For dinner?’
‘No, only for a few drinks,’ he said quickly. ‘Just to talk.’
Midge sliced the stems off the artichokes. ‘I don’t really feel like talking, with my hair like this. At least, not to anybody but you. I thought it was going to be you and me alone tonight. I thought we were going to be romantic.’
‘I didn’t really know this was all going to happen. He sort of invited himself over.’
‘So why didn’t you say no?’
‘Midge, he’s my boss.’
‘But this is our home,’ she said. ‘And I’m making artichokes.’
‘That’s okay. You make your artichokes. I want you to make them.’
‘They’re for us. Not just me.’
The doorbell rang.
‘I’ll get it,’ he said. ‘You keep doing what you’re doing.’
‘Hello, hello, hello,’ said Dan when Pulpy let him and Beatrice in. He stepped forward and set a large plastic bag down by the coat tree.
‘Hi, Dan. Hi, Beatrice,’ said Pulpy.
‘Hello there, Midge!’ said Dan in a loud voice. ‘What are you doing so far away?’
‘Hi, Dan. Hi, Beatrice.’ Midge nodded from over by the stove. ‘I’m making artichokes.’
‘Mmm, artichokes!’ said Beatrice.
‘I only have two,’ she said.
‘I’m sorry,’ Pulpy said to his boss and his boss’s wife. ‘We haven’t eaten dinner yet.’
‘That’s okay,’ said Dan. ‘Beatrice and I had some dip. What kind was it again, honey?’
‘Greek,’ she said.
‘That’s right, Greek. Delicious.’
‘I think Pulpy got dip all over his pants!’ said Beatrice.
Pulpy looked over at Midge. ‘It’s a stain from lunch,’ he said. ‘Please won’t you come in?’
‘I think we will.’ Dan stepped onto the carpet runner. ‘Ho-ho! Rolling out the plastic carpet for the VIPs, eh?’
‘It’s a runner,’ said Pulpy. ‘Because of the winter.’
‘Take off your boots, Dan,’ said Beatrice.
‘All right, all right.’ Dan took off his boots. ‘Aren’t you going to take off your shoes?’
‘My shoes are part of my outfit.’ She flexed one of her feet in their sharp-looking high heels. ‘Pulpy doesn’t mind, do you, Pulpy?’
‘No, that’s fine. Please make yourselves comfortable.’
‘This couch of yours looks very nice indeed,’ said Dan, and sat down.
‘It does.’ Beatrice sat down beside him. ‘This whole place is just so cute!’
‘Cute indeed,’ said Dan, in Midge’s direction.
‘Won’t you join us, Midge?’ said Beatrice.
‘I have to cook.’
‘Oh, that’s right. Well, you go right ahead. We’ll just sit here and pick your handsome husband’s handsome brains.’
Midge rattled the lid on the pot.
‘Smells good!’ said Dan.
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‘It’s only boiling water,’ she said.
Pulpy put his hands on his knees.
‘Well,’ said Dan, ‘Beatrice’s boiling water never smells that good!’
Beatrice slapped his arm and smiled at Midge. ‘There’s something different about you, Midge. Did you get your hair cut?’
‘So!’ Pulpy clapped his hands. ‘I put the sign-up sheet for the potluck on the staff bulletin board today, with a pen on a string. Did you see it?’
‘Are we talking shop here?’ said Dan. ‘Because let’s consider the ladies, now.’
‘I can talk shop,’ said Beatrice. ‘I work there too, remember? Starting tomorrow.’
‘Then let’s consider Midge.’ Dan smiled over at her.
‘Don’t worry about me,’ said Midge. ‘I’m just here with my artichokes.’
‘That you are,’ said Dan. ‘They look like nice ones too.’
Midge dropped them in the pot.
Dan sat back. ‘How long do those things take, anyway?’
‘About forty-five minutes,’ said Beatrice, ‘or until the bottoms get soft enough to slip a fork in. So now Midge has time to sit with us!’
‘I have to make a salad,’ said Midge.
‘Lettuce!’ said Dan. ‘Don’t get me started on lettuce!’
‘So,’ said Pulpy. ‘What are you two up to this evening?’
‘This is it,’ said Dan. ‘This is our night.’
Midge set a head of romaine on the cutting board and chopped it in half.
‘Do you need any help?’ said Beatrice. ‘I’m a whiz with croutons.’
‘She is,’ said Dan. ‘What brand do you use again, honey?’
‘I don’t use a brand. I make them from scratch.’
‘I’m fine, thanks anyway,’ said Midge.
‘Whoa, watch out, Midge – she’ll dry out all your bread-crumbs with her powers of dehydration!’
‘Why don’t you just talk to Pulpy about something unimportant?’ said Beatrice. ‘Midge and I will get the real work done around here.’ She stood up and stomped over to the kitchen. ‘Give me a tomato to slice, Midge. Throw me something green.’
Pulpy looked at Midge, but she was bending over to get something from the fridge. Then he saw Dan looking at her too.
Pulpy and Midge Page 5
