Inconstant Moon - Default Font Edition (38 page)

“It's not your fault. You're the victim here.”

“Yeah, and I hate like hell being a victim, but you know, I wouldn't have gone to the cops over a flasher. Comedians have made them the butt of jokes forever.”

“But—”

“No, Maggie, butt.” Natasha says, “That was a joke,” but clearly Maggie isn't laughing. “Look, Maggie, you can't fix the world and all the bad stuff that happens isn't your fault.”

Maggie finishes screwing in the last screw. “I still feel bad.”

“Hell, girl, you think you feel bad? You can't possibly feel as bad as I feel.”

“I have to admit I've never seen anybody with skin the colour of yours.” Maggie turns the night table right side up. “Which is your favourite, the fuchsia or the green?”

Maggie says, “The fuchsia, definitely.”

Maggie is trying not to smile as she tucks all the packaging into a plastic bag. “So, the night stand is finished. What do you want on it?”

“The ipad and iphone so I don't have to move more than necessary.”

Maggie offers to attach the power bar to the night table's side. Natasha watches rapt, thinking, you just have to keep Maggie busy and every thing's fine. Would be nice to be so uncomplicated. When Maggie finishes drilling in the screws, the power bar is mounted and plugged into the wall in minutes. “Wow that's so great Maggie, thanks.”

Maggie drops her eyes. “It's the least I could do.”

Natasha looks at her. “You're responsible for what you do, Maggie, not what anybody else does.”

“Yeah and I'm responsible for what I don't do too.”

Natasha pushes herself into a sitting position leaning forward on her knees. “Are you trying to drive me nuts?”

Maggie looks up, shakes her head.

“How do I get through to you?”

“I feel what I feel, Nat.” Maggie sets up the night stand.

Natasha looks at her. “What if it's the wrong guy?”

“I don't know. Then I guess I wouldn't feel guilty.”

Perching on the edge of the bed she plugs it in and switches it then settles the iphone onto the shelf below. “There you go, wired for the twenty first century.” Natasha nods.

Maggie drops the screws in the pocket of her robe, and picks up the drill. “If you need anything, just ask. I'd like to help if I can.”

Natasha narrows her eyes. “Do you play backgammon?”

Oscar asks, “Are you going to announce it in class?” as he dumps jelly beans into a bowl.

“No way,” says Kate, mixing a jug of Kool-Aid. “Those bone heads were too good for our 'little computer club meetings'? Screw them. Nine to fivers, go punch a clock. We'll start our own Research in Motion.”

Oscar laughs. “Absolutely. Love the passion, lass. Sure you'll not dump Nick and run away with me?”

“Not a chance buck-o. You just want extra shares.”

“Something like that. What's the school's cut?”

“Why should Christie get anything if we do it our own time? I don't want to cut them in at all if anything comes of this, so I think it's best that we do everything on our own computers, and not use school equipment for anything, not even Googling research, OK?”

“What are we thinking about here. Hardware? Software? Data base program?”

Kate frowns. “It's gotta be something doable on student resources. Maybe a program or a game? The simpler the coding the better. Later on we can come up with more elaborate ideas. Establish a track record we'll be able to write our own ticket.”

“You're right, a track record would make investment financing possible. Sounds great, Kate, count me in.” Kate looks over at Oscar, deciding to confide. “There's something else I wanted to ask you, Oz. Nick said I shouldn't talk to Jose about Krystal, but what do you think?”

“Oh, well, I didn't know you knew she was sick. Did Krys tell you, or did Nick suss it out?”

Kate stares at Oscar. uncomprehending, “Sick?”

Oscar closes his eyes. “Christ. You didn't know.”

“Know what, Oz? Krystal is sick?”

Oscar looks at her sadly and nods. “Krys is very sick, Kate.”

“How sick?”

“An inoperable tumour.”

“Holy shit.” Kate slides into her chair. “Is there anything . . .” Looking at Oscar she sees that there isn't. “That will make tonight awkward.”

“Oh Christ, I'm sorry. Just when you mentioned talking to Jose about Krystal I just assumed it was to tell him. I know that's crossed my mind more than once, but she says she doesn't want his pity. And I've got to respect that.”

“Absolutely. Gee, no, I just thought I'd suggest he ask her out or something. I had no idea. That sure explains a lot about why Maggie's been so emotional.”

“Maggie wormed it out of Krystal, and I wormed it out of her.” Oscar helps Kate move the sofa. “So although sworn to secrecy here I am spilling my guts. God I need a fag.”

Kate glances sharply at him and then she realizes he's talking about a cigarette. Kate stops rearranging furniture and pelts him with a pillow. “No Oz! You're doing so well.”

“I don't feel like I'm doing well.”

“You just need distraction. Talk to me Oz.”

“A quickie would make a lovely distraction, we could just pop round to the bedroom, no one will be along for a bit.”

Kate lobs a pillow at him and starts moving the chairs along the wall. “Of course if that's what you really want, Nick might not be asleep yet. And he might appreciate a cuddle.”

“Oooh, the cat's got claws!” and Oscar laughs and tosses both pillows back at her. Kate deftly grabs both out of the air and replaces them on the sofa.

Tamara opens the door to the dark apartment. The air reeks of stale smoke, and she shakes her head as she makes her way through the empty living room without putting on the light. Bastard couldn't hardly wait for her to be gone before polluting the air. It's one thing smoking up outside. God, now all of the clothes she's come to collect will reek. The married student residence is not a very big space after all. She's reaching for the bedroom door when she hears groaning, then she pushes it open.

She freezes in the doorway as she is hit with the pungent smell of sex. The venetian blinds are cracked open just enough to illuminate flashes of the beast with two backs writhing in her bed.

Bastard.

A wave of red passes in front of Tamara's eyes and her jaw clenches for one brief moment as she wishes she had a gun or a chainsaw or something.

Tamara whirls and stomps out, tears washing away the red of pure fury that's blurring her vision just the same. Over the past year she's come to realize Quentin is a loser but at least he was her loser. She never in a million years thought he'd be fucking someone else.

In her bed.

Can't go five minutes without gettin'some.

Prick.

Couldn't wait for her.

Cocksucker.

Wouldn't go to class.

Motherfucker.

Didn't pull his own weight.

Bastard.

That is it, this marriage is done. No more being screwed over. She fumbles with the bolt and pushes the door open, then stumbles into the clean cold fresh air.

No. No. No. Oh god, what a mess she's made of her life. At least she hasn't totally fucked up school.

She fucking loved that sumbitch.

How could he DO this to her.

Daddy will be happy anyway, she thinks, as she makes her way along the path. He never did care for Q. She pulls out her cellphone but has to rub her eyes because she can't see to dial. Screw it. She's not gonna go back to Barbie's again. She's going to the pub.

Fuck him. Um, no. Not him. She smiles through her tears. Fuck somebody. Anybody. Somebody new. Sauce for the goose. This goose is gonna find a new friend tonight. A stud who'll take her home and fuck her blind. Oh yes. And a lawyer who will help her fuck that bastard Q over tomorrow.

Find a new apartment without any garbage.

The cool night air seeps into the front room, chilling Quentin. He shivers on the recliner and opens his eyes. His back is stiff as hell and his head aches something fierce. The god damned door is hanging open.

Scrubbing his face with his hands he gets up and slams the door that's letting the cold air turn this dive into a walk-in freezer before stumbling into the kitchen.

Quentin splashes water on his face. He stiffens as he hears a noise behind him. Suddenly sober, Quentin whirls. But its only Jose padding out of the bedroom wearing only socks and underwear.

“Everything okay Q? I heard the door slam.”

Quentin raises his eyebrows. “Making yourself at home?”

Glad at least that Tamara isn't here to see Jose in all his glory.

Jose grins. “You were passed out and Mouse got a little bit frisky so we borrowed your room. Hope that's okay, bro.”

Quentin thinks it's disgusting. Last thing he wants it to sleep on somebody else's wet spot. But what he says is, “It's cool.”

Jose leans against the counter, stretching. “She's gone all nervous like she's afraid you'd come in. Got any more beer?”

Turning to the the fridge Quentin feels a pang of remorse as he comes face to face with Tamara's schedule. Fucking smoking up. Totally forgot, and so he missed her again.

Quentin grabs a couple bottles of beer, passing one to Jose. They pop caps in unison then clink bottles before they drink. “Good times and good friends.” says Quentin.

Hearing the bitterness Jose asks, “Heard from Tamara?”

Quentin just shakes his head.

“Bummer.”

When Nick comes into the pub he sees Ethan sitting alone at the bar, staring morosely at the bubbles rising in his glass of beer. Sliding onto the next stool Nick pats him on the shoulder. “Hey Ethan.”

Without looking up Ethan nods. “Surprised to see you in here.” Billie the bartender glances over, and Nick points at Ethan's glass and holds up two fingers.

“It happens. You solo tonight?”

“Yeah. Hope I'm not back to solo every night.”

“You don't want to be?”

Ethan shakes his head as the bartender sets two new bottles on the bar and accepts a bill from Nick.

“Don't see you in here very often,” she says, raising her eyebrows. “Where's that pretty wife of yours?”

“Home home throwing a computer club night. Much quieter over here let me tell you.”

“Then send them along here next time, get the joint jumping.” Billie laughs, counting out the change onto the bar and heads off to serve a table of hockey shirted jocks.

“How are you holding up under the TA stint? Prof driving you insane yet?”

“No, she's pretty good, hasn't buried me in crap and she's actually pretty fair with the students.”

“That's great to hear. They're not all like that.”

“I thought you enjoyed TAing.”

“Oh I do. But the first prof I worked for was a real asshole, let me tell you. Thank god he retired because if he hadn't I don't think I'd still be here. He was just too much, and the last straw for my buddy. 'Course, not everyone takes to it.”

Ethan drains his original glass, then picks up the one Nick has bought him and raises his glass to clink. “Thanks.”

“You're welcome. You sure looked like you needed another.”

Ethan smiles ruefully. “Probably not. Good I don't have to drive, but the companionship is sure welcome.”

“Ah, you've been here a while then. So what's her name?”

“Liz.”

Nick thinks, then grins, “Not that incredibly cheerful Amazon?”

“That's the one.”

Nick lets out a low wolf whistle. “You been out with her?”

“Yeah, and I thought it was going great but she got mad at me for wanting to walk her to class. She's keeping me guessing, so I'm not sure if we're dating or if she dumped me.”

Nick nods. “And you don't want to be dumped.”

“Hell no. She says she doesn't know if she wants to be in a relationship. I'm afraid she's looking for excuses to dump me.”

“That's tough.”

“Yeah.”

Elsie sits with her back to the wall, legs extended along the length of the bench in back booth. Half a strawberry daiquiri and a basket of fries sit on the table, but all her attention is focused on the beat up medical textbook she's poring over.

Every now and again Elsie makes a notation in the margins. She's pretty oblivious to what's going on around her, so she startles when Tamara plops on the bench opposite.

“Hey, Elsie. How's it hanging.”

Elsie narrows her eyes. “I'm studying for a test tomorrow. You look like you should be sleeping. Shouldn't you be home?”

Tamara just stares back. “I just wanted to ask you . . . um, how do you attract guys? What's your secret?”

Elsie laughs. “No commitment. If I want a guy I let him know. Look, you aren't going to get anywhere looking like that.”

Tamara looks defiant. “Like what?”

“Like a mess. Men are romantics, they all want a princess.” Elsie closes her book and sets it on the table beside the French fries. “Come on.”

Elsie gets up and heads for the washroom door. Tamara grudgingly gets up and follows.

Standing beside Elsie at the mirror Tamara appraises her red rimmed eyes and face streaked with make up. A mess.

“Okay, I see your point,” concedes Tamara.

“You're a pretty girl, just not right now.”

“No Elsie, I'm an idiot. What can I say.” Tamara turns on her heel and leaves.

Elsie watches Tamara disappear through the rear exit door. Elsie shakes her head and goes back to her booth, picks up the book and is again transported into the wonderful world of medicine. Idly she pops a French fry into her mouth.

Oscar sits at Kate's desktop computer on the table pushed against the living room wall when Kate ushers in Liz and Jake. Half a dozen people Liz doesn't recognize are gathered around as Oscar's fingers dance across the keys.

Liz tells Kate, “Maggie said she wasn't coming tonight.”

“Thanks for letting me know. I thought she might pass,” Kate nods. “Glad you came out. She is all right though?”

Liz nods. “Yeah, just tired.”

Kate holds out a hand, “I'm stacking coats in the bedroom.”

Liz passes her jacket and turns at the sound of Adam's raised voice, “You can't do that, Oscar. It's illegal!”