Crazy Little Thing (15 page)

“Yes, sir,” Claire answered.

“And you have made arrangements to fulfill the
residency requirement?”

“Yes, your Honor,” Claire said.

“It appears you are both residing at the same
residence,” he said. He looked up from the papers. “And that is because?”

“Well… we’re making this film, see, about lesbian
divorce and… it saves money to live together and…” Claire faltered.

“So it is possible for you two to live under the
same roof so to speak,” the judge said.

“Well, temporarily,” Claire hedged.

“I see.” He stared at the petition. “You’ve put here
irreconcilable differences. And those would be?”

Claire glanced over at Ollie. There was a prolonged
silence. The judge stared at them, waiting.

“We have a difference of opinion on life, you know
like how to live it and what’s important and stuff like that,” Ollie blathered.

“Stuff like that,” the judge repeated. “Stuff like
that. A difference of opinion. Do you think all married couples agree on
everything?”

“Well, no sir,” Ollie said.

“But you think that a difference of opinion on
stuff
is grounds for divorce?” He eyed Ollie hard.

“Well, no sir, I don’t,” Ollie said. Claire nudged
her. “I mean, I do,” Ollie corrected.

“I see.” The judge stared at Claire. “And what do
you have to say?”

“She’s really irresponsible,” Claire said. “It
became increasingly difficult to maintain a marriage under those conditions.”

“Has she changed from when you first met her?” he
asked.

“Well, of course, we all do,” Claire said. “I mean,
she wasn’t horribly irresponsible. She always had a job. It’s just we have
different outlooks on stuff.”

“There’s that ‘stuff’ word again,” he said.

“I mean there’s a lot of things,” Claire said. She
was floundering. She began to scratch at her butt. Ollie figured that was her
clue to jump in and help.

“Your Honor, she wants a divorce because she wants
to move on with her life,” Ollie said.

“Stuff, things, and moving on,” the judge said.
“What I am going to recommend before I grant this divorce
, if
I grant
this divorce, is counseling with a qualified marriage therapist. We will
revisit the divorce decree after you have completed said counseling. Is that
understood?”

Ollie was elated. Claire looked crestfallen.

“Yes, your Honor,” Ollie said.

“Ms. Drummond?”

“Yes, sir,” Claire said.

“All right. Case dismissed.”

The bailiff opened the door for them. G-Ray and
Claire filed through the door.

“One moment. Ms. Hiland, a word please,” the judge
said.

Ollie stutter-stepped her way back to the front of
the courtroom, fully expecting to be scolded about her conduct.

The Judge sat down on the edge of a table. He
smoothed his black robe over his long legs. “You understand I am giving you an
opportunity here.”

“Opportunity, sir?” Ollie was befuddled.

“An opportunity to make good on the solemn promise
that you swore before God and this court to love, honor, and cherish through
sickness and in health… and stuff.”

“It’s not me who wants a divorce,” Ollie said.

“That, Ms. Hiland, is my point. I think that if you
got that woman to believe in you enough to marry you, then you can make her
believe in you enough to stay married. Capeesh?”

Ollie nodded. “Yes, your honor sir.”

“Use this time wisely,” he said. “That is all. You’re
dismissed.”

“Yes, sir.” Ollie walked down the aisle. When she
reached the door, she turned back to face the judge. “Sir, if you don’t mind me
asking… why did you pick me to talk to?”

“You were the one keeping track.” He tapped his
watch. “This marriage means something to you. Now you just have to convince Ms.
Drummond of that fact.”

“Capeesh, your Honor.” Ollie saluted him and left
the courtroom with a renewed sense of hope.

Clap On, Clap Off

Ollie thumped upstairs. She stopped outside Claire’s
room with her fist raised to knock on the door. She paused. She planned to ask
Claire if she wanted some chamomile tea. Claire had always loved having
chamomile tea – it had a calming effect on her nerves. Ollie didn’t much care
for it herself, but she thought she would make Claire some tea and learn to
like it. That would show Claire that she was willing to change, that she wanted
to meet her halfway.

Before Ollie could knock, she heard Claire’s voice
from inside the bedroom. She hadn’t intended to eavesdrop, but, hey, could she
help it if she happened to be standing there and Claire’s voice just happened
to carry through the door and Ollie just happened to overhear her conversation?

“Scarlet, stop screaming,” Claire said. “It’s not
helping the situation. The counseling is not going to change anything. Ollie is
still Ollie. Certainly a counselor will see that.”

There was silence.

Claire continued, “I know I never should have
married her. It just seemed the thing to do at the time. Everyone was getting
married because it was so new. I got caught up in the hoopla. I did love her
once. You forget that, Scarlet. She wasn’t some random person I married off the
street. We had a relationship.”

More silence.

“Scarlet, I’m going to let you go. We’ve all had a
long day. I need some food. Everything will look better in the morning.”

More silence.

“I know I say that a lot, but things really do look
better in the morning.”

More silence.

“Goodnight, Scarlet.”

More silence.

“I know. I know. I know. Good bye.”

Ollie jumped away from the door and dove for the
stairs. She ran all the way to the kitchen. She put the teakettle on to boil.

By the time the teakettle whistled, Ollie had made
up her mind. If Scarlet was going to be the storm, she was going to be the
port.

*

“I can’t believe this is happening.” Claire was
sitting on the couch with her head in her hands and rocking back and forth. She
felt like such a failure. First she failed at her marriage and now she was
failing at her divorce. It didn’t get much worse than that.

G-Ray’s camera sat on the fireplace mantle with its
red light flashing. Claire felt that even the camera was mocking her failure.
Her failure was being filmed so it could be shown to the whole world.

“Don’t you think maybe you’re overreacting? It’s not
the end of the world,” Ollie said. “It’s just going to be a bit more involved
than you were thinking.” She handed Claire a mug of chamomile tea.

“Scarlet is ready to kill me,” Claire said, sipping
at the tea. “She thinks I’m doing this on purpose—that the marriage counselor
is my idea.”

Ollie sat on the opposite end of the sofa. “This
wasn’t your fault. Did you know that Judge O’Connor has the lowest divorce rate
of any judge in the country? He just wants us to be sure. You know how some
religions make couples go to marriage classes before they can get married? We
have to go through divorce classes.” She blew on her cup of tea. “He doesn’t
want us to get divorced and regret our decision. After all, we did promise him
and God that we’d stay together for life.”

Claire stood and paced. The clackity-clack of her
heels on the hard wood floor made her feel better. She had a sneaking suspicion
Ollie was making up all that stuff about the judge. That would be just like
her. Ollie always rearranged the facts to support her own line of reasoning.
That was one of the things about Ollie that got on her nerves. How could you
argue with somebody who made up the facts to suit their own needs? “What the
hell does the judge know about marriage? And how it feels to live with someone you
can’t stand,” she spat.

Whoopsy. Claire couldn’t believe she really said
that out loud. It sounded harsh. In fact, it sounded like something Scarlet
would say.

Claire stole a glance at Ollie. She looked like she
had been shot through the heart with a poisoned arrow. “I didn’t mean that to
come out like it sounded,” she said.

“You can’t stand me,” Ollie muttered. Her earlier
hopes were dashed. Her heart deflated. “I guess the truth comes out.”

“I didn’t mean you in particular. I meant people in
general,” Claire said, flinging both her hands out in a gesture that was
supposed to include everybody.

Ollie looked at Claire. “Oh, so you’re just making a
broad observation,” she said. “It wasn’t me you couldn’t stand living with, it
was the world?”

Claire brought both her hands together in a loud
clap. “You see, that’s exactly…”

The lights went off, thrusting them into total
darkness.

After a few seconds, Ollie said, “The power must’ve
gone out.”

“I can see that,” Claire said. “What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything.” Ollie sounded offended. “Why
do you always blame me when something goes wrong?”

“Because it’s usually your fault.”

The sound of Claire’s heels tapped across the floor.
Ollie reprimanded her, “You shouldn’t be pacing in the dark. You’ll trip over
something and get another black eye.”

“Oh, so suddenly you’re the voice of reason?”

There was a long pause. Claire tapped back and forth
in her heels. Ollie steamed in her own silence. Finally, Ollie said, “The
lights went out after you clapped your hands.”

“So?”

“Maybe the two events are connected.”

“Like one of those Clap on – Clap off contraptions
from the infomercials?”

“That’s exactly what I mean.” Ollie clapped her
hands sharply. The lights popped back on. Ollie and Claire stared at each
other. Claire clapped. The lights went out. Ollie clapped. The lights came on.

“If only everything were this simple,” Ollie said.
“Don’t like your marriage? Just clap it off.” She clapped to illustrate her
point. The lights went off.

Claire stood still for what seemed ages. Ollie had a
point. Maybe she was viewing their union in too simplistic terms. And she had
hurt Ollie’s feelings when she hadn’t meant to.

She clapped and the lights came on. “Ollie, I’m
sorry. I didn’t mean to sound so… mean. But even you have to admit that we
didn’t fit well together.”

Ollie clapped the lights off. “Those were your
feelings, not mine. I thought we fit fine.”

Claire clapped on. “You have to admit you were
annoying. And I mean that in the nicest way possible.”

Ollie clapped off. “You were a money-grubber. And I
mean that in the nicest possible way.”

Claire clapped on. “You were irresponsible.”

Ollie clapped off. “You never changed the toilet
paper roll.”

Claire clapped on. “You put the toilet paper on
wrong. It goes over, not under.”

Ollie clapped off. “You worked all the time. Even
took your phone or computer to bed.”

Claire clapped on. “Well, you read those stupid
surfing magazines in bed.”

Ollie clapped off. “Skateboarding magazines.”

Claire clapped on. “Whatever.”

Ollie clapped off. “You never tried to share my
interests.”

Claire clapped on. “You never shared mine either.”

Ollie clapped off. “You weren’t interested in
anything except making money.”

Claire clapped on. “Somebody had to be interested in
it. We’d starve to death if it was left up to you.”

Ollie clapped off. “We stopped having sex. Every
time I made advances you had a headache.”

Claire clapped on. “I did have headaches. You gave
them to me.”

Ollie clapped off. “Hot sex before marriage. After
marriage you wouldn’t let me touch you.”

Claire clapped on. “Did it ever dawn on you that I
wanted more than hot sex?”

Ollie clapped off. “Like what? What more is there?”

Claire clapped on. “Forget it. I’m going to bed.
Goodnight.” She turned and walked away.

Ollie clapped off. “Goodnight.”

It was pitch black in the room. The sound of
Claire’s heels hammered away toward the stairs. There was a loud bang. “Ouch!
Son of a bitch!”

“You okay?” Ollie asked.

“No, I am not okay. I just fell into the thingie,”
Claire whined.

“What thingie?”

“A whatchamacallit. Now I’m probably going to have
another black eye.”

Ollie clapped her hands and the lights came on.

“What hit you this time?”

Claire held one hand over her right eye and pointed
with the other hand. “That doohickey, that’s what hit me.”

“That’s called a newel post.”

“I don’t give a shit what it’s called. It shouldn’t
be there. It’s dangerous.” She kicked it. Then grabbed her toe and hopped in a
little circle, muttering, “Ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch.”

“I suppose that was the post’s fault, too?” Ollie said.

Claire growled, “Goodnight,” and limped up the
stairs. Overhead, Claire’s bedroom door slammed shut, causing the lights to go
off, and plunging Ollie into darkness.

*

Claire threw herself on her bed, buried her face in
her pillow and sobbed. She felt like her heart was breaking. Her wife hated her
and her fiancé was mad at her. It was like everyone she touched ended up
despising her.

Claire had a big case of the poor me’s going on,
complete with tears and moans, when she felt Oscar cuddle up next to her.  He
whined until she opened her arms and accepted him into a hug. He licked the
snot and tears off her face, which was disgusting, but it was a kindness on his
part.

“Oh, Oscar,” she
whispered. “You’re the only person in the world who understands me.