Piece of My Heart

by Layce Gardner

  Everyone’s attention turned from Jenna’s acrobatics as Mickey whooped and pulled the enormous walleye over the side of the deck. “Hot damn! This one was worth going overboard for.” She held it up for all to see. Several women patted her on the back.

  Jenna finally got her foot in the first rung and with Taylor and Dale’s help, managed to crawl back in the boat. She was cold and shivering.

  One of the crew came over with a blanket and wrapped it around her shoulders. Despite being wet and cold, Jenna saw something even worse. Cindy stood in the middle of the deck, juggling three walleyes from the cooler.

  Chapter Four

  Jenna looked out the window of her office. She brooded and sneezed. Then she sneezed and brooded. Despite the scientific proof that getting a cold did not stem from actually getting cold, she had a cold. “The Lavender Launch was a big disaster.” She blew her nose.

  “Oh, it wasn’t that bad,” Dale said.

  “I wouldn’t call it good. First, there was the embarrassing juggling. Secondly, I hope Liz-Melody never sees Tennis-Whites again, because I’m telling you that red punch is not going to come out of her clothes.”

  “Lesson learned. Punch and juggling do not mix,” Dale said.

  “And then Mickey changed into Agnes at the last minute. I thought for sure she’d get laid. Then Agnes blew it for her.”

  “I wonder if Agnes shows up a lot whenever Mickey is about to make a conquest,” Dale said.

  “We’ll find out soon enough,” Jenna said. She sneezed again.

  “Bless you. Okay, you might be a little right about the launch,” Dale said. The electric kettle went off. She made two cups of chamomile tea and handed one to Jenna.

  “What are we going to do?” Jenna said.

  “You’re going to drink this tea. It’ll make you feel better.”

  Jenna sipped the tea and made a face. “It tastes awful.”

  “It’s not that bad.”

  “You say that about everything,” Jenna said. “You always have to be Miss Positive.” She took another swallow of tea. It didn’t taste any better, but it did seem to open her nasal passages.

  Ignoring the Miss Positive comment, Dale said, “We try again. How about dinner this time? That way we can check out table manners and small talk. I have a feeling making dinner conversation is not going to be a strong suit for these women.”

  Jenna shrugged. “It’s worth a try, I guess.”

  “I’ll find something out of the way so…”

  “If we have issues we can avoid making a scene at a popular restaurant,” Jenna finished for her.

  “That’s the basic idea,” Dale said. She sat at her computer and began searching out of the way places to eat.

  Jenna brooded some more and slumped down lower in her chair. There was a knock at the door.

  “Who could that be?” Dale said, looking up from her computer.

  “Probably the postwoman. Have you noticed her legs?”

  “No, as a married woman I try to avoid avoid temptation.”

  “Liar,” Jenna said.

  Dale grinned. “She does have nice calves.”

  There was another knock on the door.

  “Come in!” Jenna called out.

  The door swung open and Mickey sauntered in. She held a long box under her arm. “Hey. I just wanted to say that the fishing party was funner than all get out.”

  “Oh. Hi, Mickey. I’m glad you enjoyed yourself,” Jenna said.

  “It would’ve been even more of a success if Miss Party Pooper hadn’t shown up,” Mickey said. She put a hand up to the side of her mouth and whispered, “I’m not naming any names but her initials are Agnes.” She set the long cardboard box on Jenna’s desk.

  “What’s this?” Jenna asked.

  “It’s a present for you to show my appreciation for almost getting laid,” Mickey said.

  “O-k-a-y,” Jenna said.

  “Open it,” Mickey said.

  “Oh, do,” Dale said. “The suspense is killing me.”

  “It’s nothing alive, is it?” Jenna asked. “It won’t jump out and bite me or anything?”

  “Just open it already,” Dale urged.

  Jenna opened the long box and stared.

  “What is it?” Dale asked.

  Mickey beamed. “You like it?” She reached into the box and pulled out the stuffed walleye that Jenna had sort of caught on the launch. “It’s to commemorate your first fish. I thought you could hang it right over there on that bare wall.”

  When Jenna didn’t say anything, Dale stuttered, “Yes... We sure do need... something to fill up that space.”

  “Want me to hang it for you?” Mickey asked, studying the wall. “Gonna need to locate the stud. Besides me, that is.”

  Jenna shook her head. Dale smiled and nodded. “That would be great, but won’t you need tools?”

  “I never travel without tools. I’m always packin’,” Mickey said. She smiled suggestively as she tugged a Swiss army knife out of her jeans pocket. “Got just the thing right here,” she said and pulled out the tiny hammer attachment.

  Jenna had no idea they made tools with built-in hammers. “Those Swiss people think of everything.”

  “Yeah, but you can’t beat the ingenuity of the Chinese when it comes to sex toys,” Mickey said. She dug around in her shirt pocket and retrieved two heavy-duty nails.

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” Jenna said. Behind Mickey’s back, she exchanged a ‘what-the-hell’ look with Dale.

  “Fred should’ve put some hanging hardware in the box.” Mickey took the box from Jenna’s desk and laid it on the couch below where she intended to hang the monstrosity of a fish. She fished around in the box. “Yep, got all the hardware and then some. Fred may not smell too great, but he stuffs a damn fine fish.”

  Dale and Jenna watched as Mickey hung the fish on the wall. “Is it straight? It’s hard telling from here,” she said.

  “Looks good to me,” Dale said.

  Jenna nodded. She didn’t trust herself to open her mouth.

  Mickey paced around the room, looking at the fish from every conceivable angle. “You know how to tell if something is true art?”

  Dale and Jenna shook their heads.

  “If the eyes follow you around the room. That’s the sign of a real artist.”

  “Well, thank you so much for the gift, Mickey. It was very thoughtful,” Jenna said.

  “My pleasure. Well, I best be going before Agnes gets her undies in a wad. She’s always pissing on my party. See ya on the flip-fly.” She made for the door. “Say, what’s next on the datin’ agenda?”

  “Dinner,” Jenna said. “At a nice restaurant.”

  “Damn, Agnes won’t let me come to that one. You’ll have the pleasure of Naomi’s company. Long as we can keep Agnes out of the dating game, we might just get us a girlfriend yet.” She took one last look at the fish and left, shutting the door behind her.

  Jenna climbed up on the couch.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Taking down this eyesore,” Jenna said.

  “You can’t do that.”

  “Why not?”

  “It was gift. Besides, it commemorates our first dating adventure,” Dale said, sitting on the couch.

  Jenna sighed. “Most businesses just frame their first dollar bill.” She paced around the room, throwing sidelong looks at the fish.

  “What’re you doing?” Dale asked.

  “Mickey was right. The fish is staring at me,” Jenna said.

  ***

  Jenna turned off the vacuum cleaner and stood in the middle of her living room. She tried to see the room from the eyes of somebody who had never been there before. Her condo looked like a mausoleum to lost love. Every object in it reminded her of Lee. She picked up a wooden recorder painted with bright Peruvian designs. They had bought it at the annual art fair in downtown Merrell. Little did she know that a souvenir bought on a whim would come to haunt her. The silly thing sat here
as a reminder of her happy life of love, lust, and commitment.

  Damn Lee. Why? It was always the “why?” question. What had she done? What did that Italian slut have that Jenna didn’t have? Aside from hairy armpits. Maybe it was the international element. Jenna had been born and raised in Merrell. Her idea of international travel was going to the State Fair’s Cultural Exhibition. Did eating gyros and Indian fry bread count as international?

  Jenna tried to snap the recorder in half but it proved too much for her with its super protective varnish. Maybe with Mickey’s amazing Swiss tool she could hack it in half or something. Instead, Jenna threw it across the room. It hit her Joy Luck bamboo plant, a souvenir from the State Fair, and dumped it over. Greenish water spilled everywhere.

  “Well, crap. I hope that wasn’t an omen.” She got a towel and cleaned up the mess. The water from the plant pot stank. She rinsed off the plant roots and put clean water in the pot. Hopefully, the Joy Luck plant considered it an improvement and it might start growing again. Looking at it, Jenna wondered when it had stopped growing. Several of its leaves were yellow and no new shoots had appeared. It had reached a stasis point—just like her.

  She needed her own date. That was it—the ticket to getting over Lee—find someone new. She should follow her own dating advice.

  She replaced the pot and noticed a small neon pink Post-It note that had fallen behind the table. She picked it up. The note read, “I love you more,” in Lee’s handwriting. Jenna held it next to her heart. She burst into tears and tossed away the idea of dating anyone. What was the use? Lee had taken a piece of her heart with her and nothing would ever change that.

  Jenna replaced the Peruvian recorder back on the shelf. She put away the vacuum and decided to clean the bathroom instead. With the exception of the toothbrush Lee had left behind, she’d taken the rest of her toiletries. At least the bathroom was relatively memory-free. She pulled the cleanser out from under the kitchen sink and resumed her ritual of Monday night cleaning.

  She always cleaned on Monday because it was already the day that the world knew sucked, so why not make it chore night instead. That was the one wild and crazy thing she did. She didn’t muck up her weekends with chores. Perhaps she needed more of these wild and crazy behaviors.

  She grabbed Lee’s toothbrush, dipped it in bleach, and began to scrub the toilet bowl.

  Chapter Five

  Mickey had been right. It was Naomi who showed up at Montebello’s Portobello Paradise. “I can’t say I’ve ever eaten here,” Naomi said, putting her hands on her hips and narrowing her eyes as she stared at the front of the restaurant. In order to get through the front door, you had to pass through a tunnel of giant, sculpted mushroom statues. Jenna thought it looked like something out of Alice in Wonderland. She almost expected to see a big caterpillar sitting on top of one of the mushrooms, smoking a hookah.

  “I will admit it’s a bit unusual, but we needed somewhere discreet to practice our culinary etiquette,” Dale said.

  “Huh, well, I’m going to get Agnes. This is not my gig. She likes mushrooms,” Naomi said. She sauntered off back to her car.

  “Where are you going?” Jenna said to her back.

  “Don’t get your panties in a wad. She’ll be right back. Just order me, I mean Agnes, a Salty Dog sans vodka,” Naomi said over her shoulder.

  “I’m kind of sorry to not be having dinner with Naomi. I have the feeling Agnes is not nearly so interesting,” Dale said.

  “I would concur, but I think it’ll be one less problem,” Jenna said as she watched Cindy and Liz-Melody trip across the parking lot. One of them looked soused and it wasn’t Cindy. Liz-Melody weaved and nearly tripped over a concrete parking block.

  “I can’t handle a drinking problem without developing a drinking problem myself,” Jenna said.

  “I don’t think it’s Liz-Melody that has the problem. It’s her Elizabeth Taylor persona,” Dale said.

  “Huh?” Jenna muttered. She watched as Cindy prevented Liz-Melody from face-planting. She maneuvered Liz-Melody around one of the many potholes in the parking lot.

  “Look at how Liz-Melody is dressed,” Dale said.

  Jenna studied her. She wore a V-necked dress with a clunky costume jewelry necklace and kitten heel shoes. The dress was a drab, brown-gray color. Her hair was a 1960s messy mop of curls. “She’s a little frumpy,” Jenna conceded.

  “Have you ever heard of the movie Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?”

  “Can’t say I have,” Jenna said. She was more of a romantic comedy lover herself.

  “I think Liz-Melody is playing the part of Martha,” Dale said as they watched Liz-Melody zigzag and hiccup her way toward them.

  “Is that bad?” Jenna asked, already knowing the answer. She shook her head. She couldn’t believe she had gotten herself into this. Her client Liz-Melody was pretending to be Elizabeth Taylor who was pretending to be Martha somebody from some wolf movie. What was she supposed to call her? Liz? Melody? Martha?

  “It’s pretty bad,” Dale said.

  Jenna grimaced. Dale was normally optimistic. If she said it was “pretty bad” then it must be horrendous.

  Liz-Melody weaved up to Jenna and in a slurred voice said, “Has anyone seen George, that rat bastard? He’s such a coward, he won’t even try a Montebello portobello. Instead, this kind lady is taking me there. What’s your name again, darling?”

  “Cindy. Remember we met last week?” Cindy said. Martha-Liz-Melody leaned up against her while Cindy nervously dug around in her pocket.

  “No juggling,” Jenna said, sticking out her hand. Cindy pulled the balls out and gave them to her. “You don’t need them.”

  Martha-Liz-Melody stuck one long, bony finger in Jenna’s face. “Let me tell you another thing about George. He’s weak, so weak, can’t even look a man, a real man, in the eye. He’s like a dog with his tail between his legs just waiting to get kicked.” On the word kick, Martha-Liz-Melody kicked her foot forward and would’ve toppled over backwards if she hadn’t fallen on Cindy.

  Jenna grabbed one of Martha-Liz-Melody’s arms and Dale grabbed the other. After they balanced her between them, they turned her loose.

  At that moment, Agnes approached them. She was dressed all in gray except for her red sequined high-heels. They all stared down at them. Agnes whispered, “Naomi, per our arrangements between personalities, did not bring an extra pair of shoes for me. So I’m stuck with these.” She pointed at her feet.

  “How does this all work? Do you layer your clothes and change in a phone booth?” Jenna asked.

  Agnes giggled. “I’m not Superman. And when’s the last time you saw a phone booth? I use the nearest ladies room. Or in this case, my car.”

  “Why didn’t Naomi want to come?” Cindy asked, propping Martha-Liz-Melody up straight again as she had listed to one side.

  “She said it looked like a dull evening and there wasn’t a thing she was going to learn from it. She has good table manners and her version of small talk doesn’t revolve around the weather,” Agnes said. “Her words, not mine.”

  Jenna was actually glad that Naomi had backed out. The image of Naomi sticking her stocking foot in somebody’s crotch came to mind. “Perhaps it’s best that you spend some time with us.”

  “Say, I remember you,” Martha-Liz-Melody said, jabbing a finger at Agnes. “You’re the official wallflower. Before George, I was the belle of the ball. Everyone looked at me, and now I’m just a middle-aged drunken hag that no one wants, not even my own husband.”

  “We need to get inside and sober her up,” Dale said.

  “Good idea,” Jenna agreed. They made their way to the restaurant entrance with Dale and Cindy flanking Martha-Liz-Melody so she didn’t kill herself weaving through the potholes.

  “They should fix these,” Agnes said.

  “That’s Minnesota for you, Land of the Never Ending Potholes,” Jenna said, barely avoiding a pothole the size of a small lake.

  “They�
�ll get them fixed in time for winter, but they’ll be back by spring. Taylor says it’s got to be concrete or you’ll always have a problem,” Dale said.

  “I wish I had different shoes,” Agnes said as she tottered across the parking lot. “I’m sure Naomi did this on purpose.”

  “Do you get to be you more than they get to be they?” Cindy asked.

  Jenna tried to wrap her head around that question.

  “I am the host personality. I was here first. Naomi and Mickey emerged later in my twenties when the stress of my sexuality and lack of confidence created a femme fatale lipstick lesbian and an extroverted butch,” Agnes said. “I couldn’t decide what kind of lesbian to be so I just became all of them.”

  “That makes sense,” Dale said. “In a really weird way,” she added under her breath.

  Jenna opened the door to the restaurant and instantly wished they’d chosen something more along the lines of Applebees’. This place was like being inside a mushroom. It was dark, full of toadstools, and everything was made of molded concrete in funky shapes and painted in various shades of brown and green.

  “Oh my god, I need a dwink,” Martha-Liz-Melody said.

  “Why don’t we wait for your last dwink to wear off,” Cindy said.

  “Sit her down over there out of the way while I get us a table,” Jenna said.

  Cindy and Dale maneuvered Martha-Liz-Melody to a bench where she plopped down, legs spread. Agnes tottered behind on her high heels. She looked liked a child playing dress up in her mother’s shoes.

  A bright and smiling young woman appeared behind the podium. She was wearing a mushroom hat and was dressed in white overalls and brown boots. She looked like a mushroom from Super Mario. “How many tonight?” she asked.

  “Uh, there’s five of us,” Jenna said. “Say, do you have somewhere secluded? We’re having a Toastmasters kind of dinner thing and we’d like to be discreet.”

  “I think that’s a good idea,” the woman said, looking over at Martha-Liz-Melody who was holding one foot up near her nose like she was looking for gum on the bottom of her shoe. Thank God, she was wearing underwear.