Tangled Webs and Such
I was on the bus rocking the headphones when I noticed the other passengers looking at me. I removed the earpiece and heard my phone ringing. It was Meg. I answered, “Hi there! Whatcha doing?”
“I’m bored. Wanna come over?”
“Sure. How about I bring you a bottle of rum? ‘Baby, it’s cold outside’…” I crooned in my best Bill Clinton voice.
“Love it! Git on over hee-yar…” she corn-poned back.
Yeehaw, a mission! I’d gobbled space-candy, and gone out in search of mischief.
I found it. It was about five miles down the road when I realized I also had a date with Rain.
Double-dipping? That sounds like the finest kind of mischief.
I’ve been worried that I may send the wrong text-message to the wrong girl, or call one woman the other woman’s name. I worry for my sake more than theirs. They seem cool with things. I feel guilty. They already know about each other, so I’m not being a total cheating-piece-of-shit, but I have been playing both sides against the middle and doing a little predatory backyard-harvesting, knowwhatImean? I’m being careful physically and mentally, and being straight up with both of them.
Mostly.
Diplomacy is a fine art, and my goal is not to hurt anyone, physically or mentally. So… I may not volunteer as much information as I should. (Ironic, coming from the king of T.M.I.) Both relationships seem in flux, and I’m curious to see how this all shakes out.
I’d had a loosely-planned date with Rain. I was supposed to come over, bring her a “twistie” (cough cough) and let nature take its course. She was supposed to call me at 3 PM. It was well after five and no word. I sat at Meg’s, watching her drink rum & coffees while COPS played on TV. I was in a cosmic state, rolling with the punches.
My phone rang. The Michael Myers Halloween Theme. That ringtone is reserved for Meg and Rain. Since Meg was sitting right in front of me, I knew who it was. I put index finger to lips, made a shush-y motion, winked at Meg and answered. “Heya hot stuff!”
“Where you at?”
“Near your house, waiting to hear from you. Watch broken again?”
“Oh, bite my ass! Wait, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” She giggled.
“Yeppers!”
“I’m at Pioneer Square. I will come to you.”
Not cool. I smiled at Meg. “I’m by the freeway, close to your place. Just come home and I’ll meet you there.”
“Okay baby,” she purred. “I’m on the next train.”
I hung up, and smiled weakly at Meg, who was grinning like a Cheshire cat. “Gonna go get you some boo-tay, huh?” She was enjoying watching me squirm. Things have only changed a little since we’ve become intimate. Like my feeling guilty about seeing Rain when Meg treats me so well.
“Yeah,” I confessed. “I’d forgotten I had a date with her when you called, so I came over here to wait for her to show up. I am so sorry. I USED YOU!” (Members of the Academy, note the spectacular fake tears and mock anguish, please?)
“Go get yourself some Tang, Mr Astronaut. Call me on the way home if ya want.”
Meg may be the coolest girlfriend ever, but I didn’t get away without taking a parting shot. She gave me a see-what-you’re-missing kiss, coating me in lipstick and lady scent. Rain would notice. I used the hallway mirror to remove the excess.
* * *
I sat outside Rain’s building, watching the MAX platform. I’d left Meg’s promptly, though taking my time. Rain has a way of turning five minutes into three hours, so I wasn’t surprised when she wasn’t on the next train. Or the one after that. I found a bench in an inconspicuous place to watch the trains come and go.
There she was, getting off the train. A bum hit her up for a cigarette. She obliged. She crossed the street and moseyed toward her building. I fell in step, walking parallel behind parked cars. She stopped, pulled out her phone and dialed. I felt the phantom vibration. I could not have timed this more perfectly if I’d tried.
As my phone rang, emitting the trademark Halloween Theme, I stepped from between the two minivans. Rain’s eyes got big, and she braced as if to take a punch. Then she saw it was me. “Red, what you gonna do, cut my head off? How’d you manage to do that?” She was as impressed with the theatrics as I was.
Using my best Vincent Price voice, “It’s not Friday the 13th yet, but I could make an exception for you, my pretty…”
“Shut up…” She led me upstairs, where I practiced my moon landing. Mission successful!
* * *
Thursday and Friday were my days off. I spent them bopping between Meg’s and Rain’s. I had a four-hour shift on Saturday afternoon, a fate worse than death in Meg’s eyes. To right this injustice, she text-invited me over after work.
I texted back, “Well, I’m keeping an eye on the weather. It’s supposed to rain and snow and freeze and shit, so I kinda want to get home before I’m stuck down here.”
“Can’t we just declare it a blizzard already?” she replied.
“Is this your subtle way of inviting me to spend the night?”
“Yup.”
“Two words: FUCK YEAH!”
I had a date! A sleepover date…
* * *
I’m always wary of committing to spending a large chunk of time confined in a small space with someone. I enjoy Meg’s company, and have camped out with her before, but our relationship has taken an uptick in intensity. I’m more concerned with hurting her now, even though we are casual.
See, she has a boyfriend. The retired US marshal. This is where it starts getting interesting…
I arrived with rum, beer, a magic cupcake, enough greenery to keep us both above planet Earth for a couple days, and a pocketful of Trojans, none of them used. I was the motherfuckin’ Little Red Corvette of Portland, Oregon. She had cleared off my side of the bed. She put booze and groceries away. We needed a couple more things, so I walked to Whole Foods on Burnside. I bought Secret Aardvark sauce, waiting to buy the less-overpriced barbecue sauce at the Quik-E-Mart below Meg’s building. ($5.99 for barbecue sauce at Whole Foods? Did they name the tomatoes?) I bought Meg a giant piece of carrot cake. It’s often the simple things that help get a young girl’s pants off.
As I returned to Meg’s, I noticed a familiar face hurrying down Burnside. It was Rain’s boyfriend, Joe. (Or should I say ‘other boyfriend’?) She’d recently introduced us. He knew me from the Nightclub Store, and I’d seen him around. He was younger than me, and looked like a cross between BB King and LL Cool J. Before the introduction Rain whispered to me, “He don’t know about us, so be cool.”
So that’s how it is, huh?
I’d bumped fists with Joe, and took her at her word that I had “nothing to worry about.” This despite the fact that she’d admitted he’d been spending the night once in a while, so she “could get some sleep.”
I had no room to be sanctimonious. I accepted things as they are. I will not mess with her good thing. In return, I expect some understanding with Meg. Except Rain doesn’t know that Meg and I are now hooking up. The plot thickens.
I watched Joe marching from Rain’s direction, grateful for my impending low-key evening. So I hoped.
* * *
Meg and I curled up on her bed, quietly partying and watching COPS. Meg’s boyfriend, the Marshal, calls her *all* the time. Her phone would ring, I’d get quiet. Lather, rinse, repeat. This was S.O.P. She wasn’t allowed to call him. I could hear him talking to her in a demeaning daddy-dom voice, his conversation peppered with insults and commands. Meg used to be submissive. Now she’s talking back. It’s truly delightful to watch her growing a pair with this guy.
Still, their relationship is none of my business. She has her thing, I have my thing, they have their thing. Can’t we all just get along?
About 9 PM, somewhere toward the end of COPS, Meg’s phone rang again. “Just a second, I need to cough.” I cleared my throat, so the Marshal wouldn’t hear me in the background.
As they talked, my phone rang. Yeppers. The Halloween Theme. Rain was calling. Meg was on her phone with the Marshal. My ringer was loud. I lunged for my jacket and hit what I thought was MUTE.
“Oh, just channel-surfing. I think it was an ad for something,” Meg told the Marshal. She was trying not to giggle. I was failing at stifling the giggles. I buried my head in the pillow. Then the text-message alert went off. The Tard Shark laugh. I couldn’t wait to hear how Meg described that…
She didn’t. “I have to pee.” She hung up on the Marshal, and we laughed. “That was close,” she said.
“Tell me! Let’s see what my fiancee has to say.” I went to check my messages. OH SHIT OH SHIT OH SHIT.
I hadn’t hit MUTE. I had answered the phone. The phone had been live for almost a minute. What had Rain heard?
It didn’t take long to find out. My phone rang again. I let it go to voicemail. “Hey babe, I been trying to call you. Thought maybe you’d want to come over tonight, since it’s Saturday and I usually see you on Saturday. It sounded like you answered your phone and was walking around and I heard a woman’s voice and then you just hung up. What’s going on? Call me.” She didn’t sound mad so much as bewildered. She can stew on it. I had things to do.
I spent a glorious evening with Meg. Slept poorly, due to joint stiffness. (Winky emoticon.) I managed to go on a date with a bottle of rum and a Powerpuff Girls video without Chris Hansen popping out. We cuddled and watched cartoons. We faded out around dawn, and I slept as long as the clock would allow.
I rolled out, moving like a 70-year-old. A happy rung-out-like-an-old-dishrag 70-year-old. I kissed Meg goodbye, instructed her to get some sleep, and made a beeline to the Mothership for Hi-Rev Mocha. Large. Stat.
About 9 PM, I sent a text to Rain. “Heya gorgeous, whatcha doing?”
Bzzt: “Slept all day, just now woke up. How are you, lover?”
Lover? “Fine, thinking of you. Got last night’s message. Too much to explain in text. Will tell you in person if you remind me.”
Now if I can count on her to forget my excuses the way she does our dates? Things will be fine.
But you know it never works out that way…
