Pulpy and Midge

by Jessica Westhead

  ‘Yeah, hold on.’ The teenager switched phones again. ‘Jaybird, you still there?’

  Pulpy sighed and walked away.

  When Pulpy returned from lunch the receptionist was screaming in short, high bursts.

  ‘What?’ He rushed in. ‘What’s wrong?’

  She was bent over the paper shredder, gesturing wildly. ‘I’m stuck!’

  He ran to her. Her ID badge, still on the lanyard around her neck, was in the shredder’s sharp-toothed mouth.

  ‘Where’s the Off button?’ he shouted.

  ‘Right there! Push it!’ She flailed an arm at the machine.

  ‘I can’t see where you’re pointing! Where is it?’

  ‘Push it!’

  ‘I can’t see it!’ Then he remembered the safety clip and gave her lanyard a yank. The badge came loose and the receptionist collapsed into Pulpy’s arms.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘You saved me.’

  He blushed and helped her right herself. ‘I just undid the clip.’

  ‘You’re the only one who came. A woman screams in an office and people do nothing.’

  ‘Maybe they thought you were frustrated about something.’

  ‘A scream of frustration is not the same as a scream of fear. People can tell the difference.’ She brushed at her sleeves and tugged at the bottom of her ruffled blouse. ‘I almost strangled to death here!’

  ‘You wouldn’t have strangled. The safety clip would have snapped apart.’

  ‘Well, what if it hadn’t?’

  ‘But it’s a safety clip. That’s what it’s designed for.’ He demonstrated with his own badge.

  She glared at him. ‘I need you to be on my side here.’

  ‘I am on your side.’

  She sat in her chair and pulled herself in tight to her desk. ‘Then why are you friends with them?’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘You know who.’

  He glanced around, and lowered his voice. ‘I’m not friends with them.’

  ‘I told you before, I’m the eyes and ears of this place. So, what do they say about me?’

  He paused. ‘They don’t say anything about you.’

  ‘Oh, don’t they?’

  ‘What’s going on here?’ said Dan from the top of the stairs. ‘Someone said they heard screaming.’

  Pulpy’s breathing quickened. ‘The receptionist got her ID badge caught in the shredder,’ he said. ‘But she’s all right now.’

  ‘Is it jammed?’

  ‘What? I said she’s all right.’

  ‘Did she jam the shredder?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Pulpy leaned over the shredder, which was still chewing on the plastic card. ‘It looks fine to me.’

  ‘Well, you’d better get that badge out of there before it breaks the machine. And then come up to my office.’

  Pulpy looked up at his boss.

  Dan stared back at him, hard, and then walked away.

  Pulpy walked over to Dan’s office and stood in the doorway.

  ‘Come on in,’ said Dan. ‘Sit down.’

  Pulpy sat on a hard-backed chair in front of Dan’s desk.

  ‘Nah, sit in a comfy seat.’

  ‘Okay.’ Pulpy switched to one of the lounge chairs further away.

  ‘That’s better, isn’t it?’

  ‘It is comfy.’ Pulpy patted the leather arm. ‘Soft.’

  ‘Soft is right!’ Dan nodded. ‘Soft indeed.’

  They sat there for a moment and looked at each other.

  Pulpy felt a stiffness feathering up and down his neck. ‘Is everything okay?’

  ‘Everything is dandy,’ said Dan. He grinned wide.‘Couldn’t be better. You?’

  ‘Well, I guess things are good. I guess.’

  ‘Great!’ Dan stopped grinning and leaned toward him. ‘We need to have a powwow, Pulpy, about the potluck. It’s on Tuesday. Are we prepared?’

  ‘I guess so,’ said Pulpy. ‘I still have to think of something to make.’

  ‘How many people are coming?’

  ‘I’m not sure. I could check the sign-up sheet. I haven’t checked it since I put it up.’

  ‘I already did,’ said Dan.

  ‘Oh.’ Pulpy blinked. ‘How many names?’

  ‘There are two, Pulpy. Mine and yours.’

  Pulpy furrowed his brow. ‘Only two? Really? Because I was sure that Jim from Packaging and Carmelita from the Parts Department and Eduardo –’

  ‘It’s just you and me.’

  ‘What about Beatrice?’

  ‘Forget about Beatrice.’ Dan’s voice got louder. ‘We’re still married, what the hell, so my name can count for both of us. Did you hear what I just said?’

  ‘Yes. Two.’

  Dan pounded his desk with the flat of his palm, and Pulpy jumped. ‘This is unacceptable! Where are the rest of the names? Why haven’t people been signing up?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Pulpy started to sweat across his hairline.

  ‘This is why we need a powwow.’ Dan loosened his tie with an impatient tug. ‘This is why I gave you that pager, if you really want to get down to it, because emergencies can and do arise, and make no mistake, this is an emergency. This is an urgent Social Committee situation.’

  ‘Yes, well, about the pager, Dan, that was something I –’

  Dan cut him off. ‘What are you and Midge up to tonight?’

  ‘Tonight? Oh. Well –’

  ‘Great, then tonight it is. Powwow.’

  Pulpy nodded slowly. ‘Powwow.’

  Pulpy sat at his desk and made a few entries on his screen. He scrolled down and made a few more. Then he turned and knocked on his partition. ‘Eduardo?’

  ‘Yeah?’ Eduardo stuck his head around.

  Pulpy cleared his throat. ‘Um, I heard you didn’t put your name down on the sign-up sheet for the potluck?’

  Eduardo squinted at him. ‘Yeah, that’s right.’

  ‘It’s just, I was just wondering. Because I thought you and Jim and Carmelita were going to. Put your names down.’

  ‘We were until you told us it was Dan’s idea.’

  ‘I’m not sure what you mean.’

  ‘Let me spell it out for you, Pulpy.’ Eduardo leaned forward. ‘We don’t like Dan.’

  Pulpy’s eyes widened, and he lowered his voice. ‘You don’t?’

  ‘Now Beatrice, Beatrice is a different story.’ Eduardo wiggled his eyebrows. ‘The guys think so, anyway.’

  ‘Just the guys?’

  ‘Oh, that’s right.’ Eduardo snorted. ‘You’re married.’

  Pulpy frowned. ‘What does that have to do with anything?’

  ‘Nothing. Forget about it. Anyway, we don’t like Dan, so we’re not doing the potluck. But you go and have fun kissing up at your little tea time with the boss-man.’

  ‘I’m not kissing up,’ said Pulpy.

  ‘Whatever,’ said Eduardo. ‘I gotta get back to work.’

  Pulpy returned to his screen and made another entry, pressing hard on the keys. Then he scrolled down too far and had to go back up again.

  When Pulpy got home, Midge’s hair was different. The scallops were gone and it was all in a jumble.

  ‘What happened?’ He touched her head. ‘Did you get it cut again? Did you go to the stylist the receptionist goes to? You didn’t tell me you had another appointment.’

  ‘I did it myself.’ She sat primly on the loveseat. ‘I went into the bathroom and I cut my hair. It fell into the sink and I rinsed it away.’ She patted her hair. ‘I think I did a pretty good job.’

  Pulpy nodded. ‘It’s … nice. What kind of scissors did you use?’

  ‘Nail ones. They were all I could find.’

  He pictured her in their tiny bathroom, concentrating hard and wielding the tiny scissors. ‘It looks really nice.’

  Midge bit her lip. ‘You didn’t call me today.’

  ‘I know, I’m sorry. I tried, but all the pay phones were busy.’

  She nodded and clapped he
r hands together. ‘Let’s get drunk, Pulpy. I feel like getting drunk.’

  ‘That sounds like an idea, Midge,’ he said. ‘But we can’t.’

  ‘Why can’t we?’

  ‘Dan and Beatrice are coming over. We can get drunk tomorrow.’

  ‘I might not feel like it tomorrow. And why are they always coming over here? We’re not even friends with them.’

  ‘I told you, I’m on the Social Committee.’

  ‘For work, Pulpy,’ she said. ‘For work.’

  The doorbell rang.

  ‘You sit there and relax,’ he said. ‘I’ll get it.’

  Midge stood up and walked to the fridge.

  He glanced at her, and then answered the door. ‘Hi, Dan,’ he said to his boss, who was standing there alone. ‘Where’s Beatrice?’

  ‘She’s in the shop,’ said Dan. ‘The beauty shop, that is!’ He slapped his thigh in a comical way.

  Pulpy smiled.

  ‘She went and booked some spa retreat for the weekend – said she needs to refresh her soul. I said, “Refresh away, but make sure you don’t come back to me with crystals glued on down there.” You know how that’s the big thing these days, that or shaving the bikini hair into funny shapes.’ He stuck his head into the room. ‘Where’s Midge?’

  ‘Well,’ said Pulpy, and looked back toward the fridge.

  Midge had lined up the sugar bowl, a bottle of club soda, a few wobbly limes, a clump of green leaves and a twenty-sixer of rum on the kitchen counter.

  ‘Hello, Midge!’ said Dan. ‘What are you doing over there?’

  ‘Making a mojito,’ she said. ‘Would you like one?’

  ‘I sure would!’ said Dan.

  ‘I’ll make a pitcher, then.’

  Pulpy stepped back and gestured at the couch. ‘Why don’t you come in?’

  Dan strode into the living room. ‘I think your wife’s trying to get me drunk!’

  ‘Hmm,’ said Pulpy. ‘Let’s sit down, shall we?’

  ‘That is one of my favourite things to do.’ Dan sat on the couch and lolled across it, his limbs dangling.

  Pulpy sat across from him on the loveseat with his feet flat on the floor and his knees together. ‘So,’ he said.

  ‘Better make mine a double, Midge!’ Dan called, undoing his tie and sliding it out from under his collar. ‘It’s been a rough day at the office for your hard-working men over here! Ha!’

  Midge was stirring the greenish contents of a tall glass pitcher with a long wooden spoon. ‘I’m one step ahead of you, Dan!’ she called back.

  Dan grinned and sprawled out even more. ‘You’d better hold on to that one,’ he said to Pulpy.

  ‘I will, thanks, Dan.’ Pulpy sat up a bit straighter.

  Midge walked over with three drinks. ‘Here we are, gentlemen.’

  ‘Here we are indeed! Midge, you’re one in a million.’ Dan accepted his mojito from her. ‘Wait a minute. Did you do something different with your hair?’

  ‘I cut it myself,’ she said. ‘Earlier today.’

  ‘I think you missed your calling,’ he said. ‘It looks fantastic.’

  ‘Oh, well.’ She reached up and burrowed a hand in the jumble, then smiled.

  Dan smiled back at her.

  ‘Sit next to me, Midge,’ said Pulpy, patting the loveseat.

  ‘Okay.’ She walked backward until her calves connected with the cushions and then she plunked herself down.

  Pulpy took a tentative sip of the pale liquid his wife had given him, and the torn leaves floated up to his lips. ‘You’ve never made this before,’ he said. ‘Have you?’

  ‘I found a recipe,’ she said.

  ‘I love a good mojito,’ said Dan.

  ‘How did you get here, Dan?’ said Pulpy, a bit loudly. ‘Did you drive?’

  ‘Uh huh. I’m parked on the street.’

  Pulpy nodded. ‘You’re good until midnight.’

  ‘Midnight, eh? Well, I guess I can afford a ticket if I get one.’

  ‘Well.’ Pulpy shuffled closer to Midge. ‘Until midnight you’re good.’

  Midge looked at him. ‘You have mint in your teeth.’

  Pulpy stood up, walked through the kitchen, and grimaced into the hall mirror.

  ‘Damn, that’s a good mojito!’ said Dan.

  ‘Thank you,’ said Midge.

  Pulpy picked out the mint and walked back in. ‘So,’ he said, and looked from his wife to his boss. ‘Should we have that Social Committee powwow now?’

  Dan raised his drink. ‘This is enough social for me, right here.’

  Midge nodded and drained her glass.

  Pulpy wound his fingers more securely around his almost-full mojito. The glass was cold and slippery.

  ‘There is just the right amount of booze in this,’ said Dan. ‘Tasty.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Midge said again. ‘Let me pour you another.’

  ‘Don’t mind if I do!’

  She took their empty glasses to the kitchen.

  Pulpy sat down on the loveseat and looked at his watch. ‘Maybe we should pace ourselves.’

  But they didn’t seem to hear him.

  ‘Tell me something about candles, Midge,’ said Dan. ‘Beatrice says you know all about them.’

  ‘Oh, well, I wouldn’t say I know all about them.’ Midge handed Dan his fresh drink and took a gulp from her own. ‘I’m learning as I go along.’

  ‘You know more than most people, I’ll bet. Beatrice says you showed her a catalogue?’

  ‘I did, but it’s the same one Pulpy brought to work so I’m sure you’ve seen it by now.’

  Pulpy stiffened.

  Dan looked at him. ‘No, I don’t think I have.’

  Midge sat down next to Pulpy and took another drink. ‘Pulpy, you didn’t show Dan the catalogue?’

  ‘I’ve been meaning to,’ he said quickly. ‘Dan’s just been really busy lately, so I haven’t wanted to disturb him.’

  ‘My door is always open for you, Pulpy, you know that,’ said Dan. ‘And for your lovely wife.’ He winked at Midge.

  Midge giggled mid-sip.

  ‘Hmm,’ said Pulpy. ‘Well, Midge, why don’t you show Dan your copy now? That way he doesn’t have to worry about the one at work.’

  ‘I’m not worried, who’s worried?’ said Dan.

  ‘I’m not worried!’ said Midge.

  Dan held his glass out to her. ‘That’s the spirit, Midge. Clinky-clink!’

  ‘Clinky-clink!’ she said, and threw her head back and laughed.

  Dan caught Pulpy’s eye and shifted his hips on the couch.

  Pulpy frowned and stood up. ‘I’m getting a glass of water. Does anyone else want one?’

  Midge waggled her empty glass at him. ‘Can you mix us another pitcher of mojitos?’

  ‘I don’t know what’s in them,’ he said.

  ‘Oh, what good are you, then?’ said Midge, and then she put a hand over her mouth and her eyes widened above her fingers.

  Pulpy’s shoulders sagged.

  Dan leapt up. ‘I know what’s in them!’

  Midge dropped her hand to her lap and looked down at it.

  Pulpy opened his mouth to say something but then closed it again.

  ‘Do you have any more limes, Midge?’ Dan called from the counter. He’d rolled up his shirt sleeves to expose his thick, hairy forearms.

  ‘Hold on, I’ll get them for you.’ She got off the loveseat and hurried past Pulpy to the kitchen.

  Pulpy sat down by himself and watched the two of them hand ingredients to each other. They were both laughing, and Midge wasn’t paying any attention to him at all.

  ‘Pulpy? Pulpy, wake up.’

  Pulpy opened his eyes the next morning to see Midge standing over him with an urgent look on her face. He patted the spot beside him and closed his eyes again. ‘Come back in.’

  ‘Pulpy, I made pancakes.’

  ‘Yum!’ he said with his eyes shut.

  ‘I made pancakes so we can feed him and then
ask him to leave.’

  He opened one eye. ‘Ask who to leave?’

  ‘Dan.’

  He sat up and rubbed his face. ‘Dan’s still here?’

  ‘I couldn’t let him drive home in the state he was in. He’s on the couch,’ she said. ‘But I don’t want him staying all morning, and we have Ice Dance.’

  He checked the time. ‘How long have you been awake?’

  ‘Long enough to make pancakes. Please, Pulpy.’

  ‘I don’t remember going to sleep.’ He got out of bed. ‘Did we give him a blanket?’

  ‘There’s a blanket on him.’

  Together they walked down the hall and through the kitchen, and stood on the border of tile and carpet peering at their guest.

  Dan was turned away from them on the couch with a blanket covering his legs. He was still wearing his clothes from the night before.

  ‘See? He’s still sleeping,’ she said.

  ‘He looks pretty comfortable. Nobody’s ever slept on that couch before.’

  Midge shrugged.

  Pulpy cleared his throat.

  Dan didn’t move.

  Pulpy leaned in a bit and knocked on the wall. ‘Hello?’

  Dan shifted a little on the cushions.

  ‘I’m going to take the pancakes out,’ said Midge. She headed for the kitchen.

  ‘Pancakes?’ Dan said, and rolled over to face Pulpy.

  ‘Hello,’ said Pulpy. ‘Good morning.’

  ‘Uh. Morning.’ Dan sat up slowly. ‘What time is it?’

  ‘Eleven.’

  ‘Eleven, eh? What time did we hit the sheets?’

  ‘I can’t remember.’

  ‘Ho-ho! That is the sign of a good night!’ Dan grinned. ‘Damn, those pancakes smell good! You’ve got a special lady on your hands, my man. That Midge – she’s a firecracker!’

  ‘She is,’ said Pulpy. ‘Bang.’

  ‘Bang is right. Bang is what my head is doing right now. Those mojitos pack a punch!’

  ‘They do indeed.’ Pulpy stood there. ‘Well, I’ll let you get up. We’re in the kitchen.’

  ‘I’ll be right there.’

  Pulpy turned around. Midge was setting plates on the table.

  He sat down. ‘Do you want me to help?’

  ‘No, you sit.’

  ‘Okay.’ He pulled in his chair.

  Dan joined them. ‘Good morning, Midge!’