Pulpy and Midge (20 page)

‘Oh,' said Pulpy. ‘I guess I've never heard of that kind of thing before.'

‘Stick with me, Pulpy. I'll show you the world.'

‘Well,' he said, ‘I'm not really sure that world is for us.'

‘You just haven't tried it yet. Once you try it, you'll be hooked. Believe me.'

‘Hmm.' Pulpy took another drink.

‘Listen, I'll tell you what. You and Midge talk it over, and if it sounds like something you might want to sample, Beatrice and I'll be there for you.'

Pulpy choked and coughed and dribbled red wine onto his lap napkin. ‘Pardon?'

‘If you want to give it a go we can help ease you into things. We play safe too, so there's nothing to worry about there.'

Pulpy wiped his mouth and stared at his boss.

‘And if you don't like it, nobody ever has to be the wiser. We all go home and never speak of it again. If you
do
like it, though, then the sky's the limit. I'm telling you, Pulpy, this will change your life. And it'll change your relationship too, for the better.'

Pulpy finished his glass and poured himself another. He was having trouble sitting up straight now so he slumped sideways onto the arm of his chair. ‘Midge is always on the lookout for new ways to improve our relationship.'

‘I knew it!' Dan pointed at him. ‘You see what I'm talking about? And right now Midge and Beatrice are having a chat just like this one, and Midge is probably saying the same things you're saying. You both want your relationship to succeed. You both cherish what you have, right?'

‘Right.' Pulpy's mouth was dry so he moistened it with more wine. He was mildly surprised by what he said next, but that didn't stop the words from coming out. ‘I'll have to talk to Midge about this.'

‘Of course you will. No question. You two jaw it over and see what's what. And if you decide to give it a go, we'll be waiting.'

‘Thank you, Dan, that's – that's very nice of you.'

‘Nice, shmice. It's not like we're not getting something out of this, am I right? Ha!'

‘Ha,' said Pulpy, and then he slid onto the carpet and blacked out.

‘Pass me the swatter,' said Midge.

Pulpy squinted at her. The sun was right behind her head, framing the flicked-up edges of her hair. ‘Is there one by you?'

‘A big one,' she said. ‘Hand that swatter over.'

‘Let me get him.' He stood up from his lawn chair with the swatter held high.

The wasp flew past Midge and she squeezed her eyes shut. ‘Don't let him sting me.'

‘I won't.' He watched the wasp zoom back and forth, each time coming closer to the pink expanses of his wife's exposed skin. ‘I've almost got him.'

The wasp was hovering over the soft crease at the top of Midge's forearm. Pulpy wound up, aiming to knock it out of the air before it struck.

The wasp dove and Pulpy swung.

And missed.

‘Owww!' Midge clapped a hand over her arm and opened her eyes. Then she looked right at Pulpy and slowly uncovered the red welt that had already started to form.

‘Ho-ho!' said the wasp. ‘Am I right?'

And it soared over to Pulpy, and Pulpy could see there was something about this wasp that he recognized. Something about the shape of its head, or the way it kept opening and closing its wings around nothing.

Pulpy awoke to a buzzing sound and he sat up with his arms flailing. ‘Look out, Midge!' he shouted, but then realized she wasn't beside him.

He'd been dreaming about wasps and now he was alone, on a long, hard couch, wearing only his briefs. He ran his hand along the velvety fabric beneath him. Dan and Beatrice's divan. He blinked at the sunlight pouring in though the lacy drapes over the bay window. Dan and Beatrice's living room. And the buzzing was coming from down the hall.

Pulpy covered himself with the blanket that had fallen down to his waist and looked around for his clothes. He couldn't see them anywhere.

The buzzing stopped.

He heard heavy footsteps coming down the hall and he yanked the blanket up to his chin.

Dan appeared in the doorway wearing slippers and a yellow bathrobe. He put his hands on his hips and grinned at Pulpy. ‘I just ground some beans for the best cup of joe you will ever have in your life. Do you take sugar? I know you're a cream man.'

Pulpy nodded, then shook his head. ‘Why am I in your house?'

‘Why do you think?' Dan's shins were thick with dark hair, and his slippers were open-toed.

‘Um.' Pulpy shivered. ‘I don't know.'

‘Look at me, the host with the least.' Dan shook his big head. ‘There I go and strip you down and I give you one of the thinnest throws in the linen closet. Sit tight, I'll be right back.'

Pulpy watched Dan bound up his spiral staircase, his robe billowing, and took a few deep breaths. His recollection of the night before ended at the restaurant. There was nothing after that.

Dan came down the stairs with his slippers flapping. ‘Tada!' he said, and tossed a blue robe similar to his own onto the divan. ‘Prepare to be toasty!'

Pulpy's eyes rested on the soft pile of terry cloth at his feet. ‘Where are my clothes, Dan?'

‘Ho-ho! You really don't remember anything, do you?'

‘Not really.' His head pounded.

‘Well, put that on and I'll fill you in over that coffee I was telling you about.'

‘I should call Midge.' He sat up further and felt dizzy. ‘She must be wondering where I am.'

‘You know, I'd advise against that.'

Pulpy looked down at his bare thighs. He had goosebumps. ‘Why is that, Dan?'

‘I talked to Beatrice a little while ago and she said that lovely wife of yours is still living it up in Dream Land. What's good for the goose, huh? I wish! Working men like you and me are needed elsewhere, unfortunately.
AKA
the office. Ha!'

‘Where's Beatrice?'

‘She's already there, holding down the fort. Lucky for us we have flex hours, but then we can only stretch those so far before people start to talk. Am I right?'

‘No … I mean, Beatrice stayed over at our house?'

‘You got it.'

Pulpy rubbed his eyes. ‘What time is it?'

‘I'll tell you what. Put that robe on, follow me to the kitchen, and all your questions shall be answered.'

‘All right.' Pulpy sat there, still clutching the blanket to his chest. ‘Could you please, um, just …'

‘The man wants his privacy. I can respect that. I've seen it all in this life but I can certainly respect that.' Dan started whistling and turned to stroll back down the hall.

Pulpy let out a long breath. His hands shook slightly as he pulled on the oversized robe and tied the belt in a double knot. He folded the blanket and laid it on the divan, then slowly made his way over the cold floor in the direction his boss had taken.

‘There he is!' said Dan when Pulpy shuffled into the big, bright kitchen. ‘Now go ahead and pick a mug and I'll fill you all the way up.'

There was an array of large mugs in the style of Dan's ‘Back off – it's early' one lined up along the counter. Pulpy stepped forward and selected the only one without a phrase on it. ‘I take sugar,' he said.

‘Ho-ho, you may want to look inside there and see what else you take!'

Pulpy peered into his plain white mug. On the bottom was a perfectly curled miniature turd. His stomach lurched and he set the mug back down with a clatter.

‘It's fake, don't worry. That's my gag mug. Isn't it great? Ha, ha!'

‘Yes. Great.'

‘Oh, it's good to laugh.' Dan pointed the coffee pot at him. ‘Grab yourself another one. Unless you like that kind of thing, ha!'

‘Ha.' Pulpy picked up one of the mugs with the sayings on them. This one read ‘Go ahead – make my morning' and had a cartoon of a piece of toast wearing a cowboy hat.

Dan poured coffee into it and then filled a mug for himself; his had a picture of a moose with what appeared to be dirty laundry hanging from its antlers and the caption ‘Moose-t Be Monday.'

Pulpy watched Dan's shoulders bunch under his robe as he replaced the coffee pot on its burner, and then looked down at the pale triangle of his own concave chest. Half of one nipple was visible, and when he raised his head he saw Dan looking there too.

‘What's that line you've got there?' his boss said. ‘Some kind of scar?'

‘Sorry?' Pulpy put his mug on the counter and covered himself with the robe, then cinched the belt tighter.

‘That line down your chest. I saw it last night when I took off your shirt.'

Pulpy peered out one of Dan and Beatrice's tall windows, at the shiny crust of snow that had hardened over their backyard. Then he noticed something green outside and took a few steps closer to see what it was.

He heard the fridge opening and closing behind him. ‘Cream and sugar,' said Dan. ‘Come and get 'em!'

It was the plant that he and Midge had bought, just sitting there in the cold. There was a layer of frost all over it, like icing, and the spiky leaves had curled in on themselves.

‘Chow time!' said Dan in a loud voice. ‘Who's hungry?'

Pulpy turned to face him. ‘It's a love connection line,' he said. ‘Whenever Midge and I are apart I can just touch it and think about us.'

Dan's grin went lopsided for a second and he seemed to sway a little. Then he said, ‘Huh,' and opened the fridge again. He pulled out a brown paper bag with dark stains on the bottom and dropped it onto the counter with a thud. ‘Sounds like voodoo to me.'

Pulpy frowned and darted a hand inside the front of his robe when Dan turned his back to open a drawer. His fingers grazed the line Midge had made. ‘You said you were going to tell me what happened last night.'

‘I did say that, didn't I?' Dan picked up the bag and held it upside down, and two thick slabs of grey-edged red meat thumped onto the counter. ‘What happened is, we didn't get to eat these steaks we ordered! Ha! So belly up, compadre. We are going to right that horrible wrong before we mosey on back to the ranch.'

Pulpy went pale. ‘I don't really feel like eating, Dan. I think I'd just like to get dressed.'

Dan had already started cutting. He paused with a hunk of beef at his lips. ‘Just wait until I'm done here and then I'll get an outfit together for you.'

‘I was thinking more about wearing my own clothes, actually.'

Dan's jaw muscles flexed as he chewed. ‘Be my guest,' he said with his mouth full, ‘but Beatrice might hose you down with that citrus spray of hers if you walk in there smelling like puke.'

‘What are you talking about?'

Dan grinned, showing off a piece of sinew stuck between his large front teeth. ‘You mean you really don't remember throwing up all over yourself last night?'

Pulpy grimaced. ‘No.'

‘Huh. I guess you did black out, but still.' He sliced a strip of fat off the edge of his steak and shoved it in his mouth. ‘I figured it would come back to you.'

‘Well, it hasn't,' said Pulpy. ‘It hasn't and I want to get dressed and go to work.'

‘All right, all right. If you're going to get all bent out of shape.' Dan thrust a finger into his mouth and dug around, then swallowed what he'd dislodged and wiped his finger on his robe. ‘Wait here. I'll get you one of my suits.'

Pulpy watched Dan stride out of the kitchen, and then walked over to the window and looked down at the frozen plant again.

His mug of coffee sat steaming on the counter behind him.

When Pulpy and Dan walked into the office, the receptionist wasn't there, and Beatrice was bent over the desk aiming a small can with a long nozzle at the receptionist's keyboard.

‘Mmm,' said Dan to his wife's rump, on prominent display and encased in pants that Pulpy thought looked familiar.

At the sound of the door closing, Beatrice turned and flashed her teeth at them. ‘Good morning, boys.' She pointed the spray can at them and squeezed the trigger. ‘Did you sleep well?'

‘Did we ever!' said Dan.

Pulpy realized he was staring and switched his gaze to the wall behind Beatrice, but not before Dan gave him a wink and elbowed him in the ribs.

‘These air dusters are lifesavers.' She arched forward and blasted the can at the receptionist's keys. ‘You would think that a person who eats at their desk would have the common sense not to eat over the keyboard. Fortunately there are tools like this for people like myself, who prefer things crumb-free. You have to get the kind with the slip-on extender, though. Otherwise the penetration just isn't deep enough.'

‘Are those Midge's clamdiggers?' said Pulpy.

‘Well. Aren't
you
the observant one?' She traced a long red fingernail along her waist to her hip, and then fitted that hand into a back pocket. ‘I hope she doesn't mind. I would've asked her but she was sleeping.'

‘But why are you wearing them?'

‘Our Pulpy isn't quite himself today,' said Dan. ‘We drove in together and he didn't talk to me once. Not a word the whole trip. How's that for gratitude? He even stiffed me on his half of the bill last night! Lucky for him I've been feeling generous lately.'

Beatrice ignored him and smirked at Pulpy. ‘Would you rather I take these clamdiggers
off,
then?'

‘I just don't understand why you needed to borrow my wife's clothes, that's all.'

‘Because if I came to work in the same outfit as yesterday, people might have something to say about that.' She smiled and fluttered her eyelashes at him. ‘That's how rumours get started.'

Dan snorted and hung his coat up in the closet. ‘Where's the secretary?'

Beatrice stopped smiling. ‘She called in
sick
this morning.'