The Worst Romance Novel Ever Written (28 page)

BOOK: The Worst Romance Novel Ever Written
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And I have excellent hearing for an old lady, Johnny.” Marion stood in the hallway, a halo of yellow light behind her. “Fornicating in the living room like a couple of teenagers when they’re grown and could be at his place since Gloria has a built-in babysitter, but no, not these two. They have to, how did he say it, get their freak on, and on my grandmama’s loveseat!”

This has to be the oldest loveseat still in existence,
Johnny thought.
It has to be priceless.
“She is angry,” Johnny said. He surfed more channels during a commercial.
Hey,
It’s A Wonderful Life
is on again. I’ll bet they fall in that pool again. Jimmy Stewart was a pretty fair dancer for such a tall man—


Um, is it okay if we go to your place?”

Johnny blinked.


To talk, that’s all,” Gloria added.

Johnny nodded.


Girl, you’re grown,” Marion said, “so get out. Just tell me what to tell Angel when you’re not here on a Saturday morning.”

For the first time in Angel’s life! What am I going to do?
Gloria handed Johnny his hoody. “Tell her … tell her I’m out getting her breakfast.”


She’s up at the crack of dawn, Gloria,” Marion said. “You gonna be here at sunrise? Burger King doesn’t open until six.”

Gloria turned to Johnny. “Am I going to be back by sunrise?”
Please say no! I have never talked to anyone all night. Oh. Right. Except for God, but I was in labor at the time!

Johnny shook his head once and nodded once. “Maybe.”


Um,” Gloria whispered, taking Johnny’s hand and dragging him to the door, “you think of something to tell Angel, Mama.”


Why me?” Marion asked.


Cuz this is your house, Mama,” Gloria said.

Johnny stepped outside then stepped back in. “It was good to see you as always, Marion.”


Get out!” Marion yelled.

After the Vega rumbled away, Marion took a long look at the loveseat, chuckling to herself. “I told her about a man with big hands, but did she believe me? No. What do I know? I’ve only lived … fifty-five years …”

 

24

 

Even the mice knew that there was no way Johnny’s secondhand futon could contain them.

And the mice knew a thing or two about getting cozy on secondhand futons.

Johnny and Gloria first tried to lie lengthwise on the folded futon. Gloria fit fine, but when Johnny tried to join her, the futon cushion sagged and seemed to suck Gloria into the wall.


I’m stuck,” Gloria said.


Sorry,” Johnny said.


It’s okay. Let’s try …”

They then unfolded the futon, and though they fit fine, Johnny’s additional weight sagged his side and raised hers.


Cheap futon,” Johnny said.
I didn’t know I owned a teeter-totter.
“Sorry.”


It’s okay. Let’s try …” She squinted. “You do have a bedroom.”


Yeah, but it’s a wreck, and there’s only a twin bed in there. Even I sometimes have to sleep sideways.”


It’s okay. Let’s try …” She looked into the darkness. “Is that your kitchen?”

Johnny blinked. “It’s an old oak table, Gloria. An antique.”


Did you think I wanted to …”

Johnny nodded.

Gloria grabbed Johnny’s hands. “All I want to do is snuggle and talk. That’s all.”
On the kitchen table? Is he crazy?


I have no more furniture left,” Johnny said.


How about …” She smiled. “A blanket.”

Johnny went into his bedroom and came out with a bed sheet. “I don’t use a blanket.”


It’s okay.” Gloria took Johnny’s hand and led him to a dark corner beside the futon. “Sit.”


Arf.” Johnny sat, splaying his legs.

Gloria wrapped her legs around Johnny’s torso and sat. “I’m not hurting you, am I?”


No.”
Relax. Take deep breaths.


Your lips are moving.”

Note to self: don’t lip-synch your thoughts.
“I’m just warming them up for you.”

Gloria kissed him quickly. “This isn’t exactly yoga position number thirty-four, but at least we can kiss, smile, hug …”
Sweat, breathe heavily …
Gloria froze. “No one lives below you, do they?”


Just the little people under the stairs,” Johnny said.


Funny.” She wriggled her way closer, wrapping her arms around his neck, locking her legs tightly behind his back. “Okay. This is better.”

Define “better.” Do your times tables. Take pi to fifty digits. 3.1415926—


Johnny?” She tried to catch Johnny’s eyes, but they were floating over her head to the ceiling. “You okay?”

Johnny looked down briefly. “Yes.”


Aren’t you comfortable? I am.”


I’m comfortable.”
I just wish you weren’t so freaking close to me, that’s all.
“I just wish the floor wasn’t so dusty. I should vacuum.”


When’s the last time you vacuumed?”

Let’s see. Marla was here then, so …
“Three years ago.”

Gloria’s eyes popped. “Three years ago?”
So this isn’t a gray carpet?


I’m thinking of throwing down some seeds, see what comes up.”

I know I’m going to regret asking this.
“Um, why has it been three years since you vacuumed?”

It was Marla’s vacuum cleaner. She left, the vacuum left, you know, breakup math.
“I haven’t had anyone to impress for a while.”

Now, we’re getting somewhere,
Gloria thought. “Who was the last person you were trying to impress?”

Johnny sighed. “Her name was Marla.”


Marla.”


Yes. Marla.” Johnny inched slightly to his left to evade what might have been cracker crumbs digging into his butt.

Gloria didn’t speak.


You want to know, um, why we aren’t together anymore?” Johnny asked.

Gloria nodded.

Vague answers are best.
“Marla said I couldn’t provide enough for her.”

Gloria didn’t speak.

Vague answers make Gloria silent.
Johnny rested his shoulders against the two walls. “I have to take most of the blame there. I didn’t provide enough money or excitement for Marla. I’m boring. I work odd hours. I was trying to write a novel, and that kept me away from her, even when we were together.”


You’re anything but boring, Johnny,” Gloria said. “Though I can appreciate boring. No surprises. No drama. Just … peace.”


Peace is boring?”


It never makes the news.”


True. Peace is boring. That would make a cool bumper sticker, but then the Republicans would get a hold of it and start more wars to make the world more exciting and the news networks happy.”

Gloria sighed. “How do you do that?”


Say something totally tangential to the conversation at the most inopportune moments?”


Well, that,” Gloria said with a laugh, “but … how do you make those connections so quickly?”

Johnny rolled his neck until it cracked. “It must be my engineering degree from the Virginia Poly-Technicolor Institute.”


No, seriously.”


Seriously. I do have an engineering degree from Virginia Tech.”
And why am I bringing this up now?
“I’ve never asked what your degree was in or from where.”


U of Richmond, business management, but … you have an engineering degree from Virginia Tech, and you don’t put it to use?”

Johnny shook his head. “Well, I did for a while.” He kissed her tenderly. “Are you sure you’re comfortable? Maybe if I wedged a couple books in the futon—”


Where’d you put your degree to use?” Gloria interrupted.

Gloria would make a good interrogator.
“Well, I worked for the city and had a city car and everything, but I’m happy where I am now.” He leaned in for another kiss.

Gloria leaned away from Johnny’s lips.
From a decent, steady job to delivering pizzas? Did he get fired for being so spacey or what?
“What happened?”

I don’t want to go here. Can’t I just lead my anonymous existence in peace? It would be rude to say, “Gee, Gloria, I really don’t want to talk about this,” but my psyche would thank me.


It’s okay if you don’t want to tell me about it,” Gloria said.

Which means she
really
wants to know about it now that I didn’t answer her right away.
“Well, I quit my job and started working for Hector.”


Why?”

I do not want to answer this question, but I’m stuck.
“Hector thought I was crazy, too. He still thinks I am. I have told him I am seeing three ladies, and he thinks—”


Johnny, why did you quit working for the city?” Gloria interrupted. “Were there budget cuts or what?”

That didn’t work. I should have changed the subject to cheese. Who doesn’t like to talk about cheese?
Johnny searched Gloria’s eyes. “I’d rather not say, Gloria. I really don’t want to talk about it.”

Oh yeah?
“Did they fire you?”

Note to self: Gloria doesn’t take no for an answer.
“No, no, nothing like that. I resigned, okay? I just walked in, handed in my notice, treaded water for two weeks, and faded away. I had to turn in my cell phone, though. I kind of miss it. But that’s all water under the bridge now, and I can’t wait—”


What made you resign?”

Johnny tried looking away from Gloria’s eyes, but she kept moving her head to catch them. “You’re good at catching my eyes, Gloria.”


I wouldn’t have to catch them if you’d look at me.”

Oh, here they come. I was afraid of this.
“I’m afraid you’ll see tears, Gloria.”

Gloria pulled the sheet tightly around her shoulders. “What happened, Johnny?”

Only Marla knows, but Marla was there, too, and that was how we met, and that was the basis of our relationship, that day and nothing else, a relationship based on need and grief.

Johnny focused on the near arm of the futon. “April sixteenth. Norris Hall.”


April … sixteenth. What happened at Norris Hall?”
Oh, God!
“The shooting at Tech?”
But he’s too old to have been there then, isn’t he?


I was not killed, obviously.”
Though something certainly died in me.
“I was there that day, so you see why I’d rather not—”


Why were you there that day?” Gloria asked.

Please, just drop it, Gloria.
“I was taking a graduate class in infrastructure asset management.”
But why does anyone need a master’s or infrastructure asset management when the freaking infrastructure can be ripped out from under you at any moment?
“Believe it or not, I’m only four courses short of my master’s degree. Imagine that. I guess I should take those classes, huh?”
Maybe if I ask a question, she’ll stop asking questions.


So you were there taking a class and …”

Tears welled in Johnny’s eyes. “The professor of that class was a beast, and he demanded we be there on time at eight in the freaking morning, which meant I had to get ready at five-thirty to get down to Blacksburg on time. And he usually kept us late so I never got back to Roanoke by ten, which meant I had to work over any day I had class. And that day, for whatever reason, he decided to let us go only ten minutes late.”

BOOK: The Worst Romance Novel Ever Written
12.86Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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