Saturday, 28 February 2015

Thirteen Crucifixions, 107


They were getting tea from Sheila.  No alcohol.  Earl Grey and Peek Freens.  Digestives.  Plain.  Bill and Persimmon were not likely to overstay.  “This is such a beautiful house”, Persimmon had exclaimed for the third or fourth time this evening.  “It’s a shame you’re selling it.”  Bill, for the third or fourth time, answered that of course she was selling it.  It’s haunted.  They occupied the couch, but this evening there was a comfortable distance between them.  They weren’t even holding hands.

            “Who’s this young man who’s staying here now?” Bill asked.

            “A friend of Michael’s.”

            “A FRIEND of Michael’s, you say?”

            “Yes’, Sheila answered curtly.

            “And where is your son?”

            “He just returned to the Island.”

            “So he’s found religion, or what?”

            “He seems to be finding something.”

            “Perhaps he’s finding himself”, Persimmon said.

            “Yes.  I’m sure he’s finding that too”, Sheila replied patiently.

            “That other fellow who was staying here, is he there too?”

            “Glen?  Yes, he is.”

            “And your son’s other friend, that older guy?”

            “Matthew. It all started with him.”

            “I can’t get over it—all these queers getting religion!  What is this world coming to?”

            “Should it matter that they’re gay?” Sheila said tersely.

            “Hey, no need to get defensive”, Bill said, smiling with his look of “please don’t hit me!” charm.

            “But you bring it up a lot—my son’s sexuality, I mean.  I think it’s time you left off.”

            “Sorry Sheila”, he said still smiling, “I didn’t know you were taking this so personally.”

            “It’s wearisome.  And it shouldn’t matter to you, anyway.”

            “Okay, fine.

            Persimmon said, following a few seconds’ awkward silence, “Did you hear that Letitia Van Smit is missing?”

            “Letitia—“

            “I did an interview with her last month.  She’s that welfare verification officer.”

            “I’ll bet a bunch of activists kidnapped her or something”, Bill said.  “Too bad.  She was saving the taxpayers a lot of money.

            “I thought she was an obnoxious bitch”, Persimmon said. “I actually hope that’s what happened to her.”

            “I met her once.  Gorgeous!” Bill said with the dramatic flourish of a trucker savouring a jelly donut.

            “I see her as a symptom of a very frightening, encroaching type of economic fascism”, Persimmon said with pronounced distaste.

            “Hey, take it easy girl”, Bill said, reaching for a Peak Freen.

            “Why don’t you go fuck yourself!” Persimmon spat.

            “Order in the court!” Sheila pronounced blandly.

            “Sorry”, Persimmon said, blushing.

            “I wouldn’t worry, dear, I’ve often wanted to say that to him myself.”

            “Hey, wait a minute!” Bill said.

            “More tea, Persimmon?”  Sheila said.

            “Oh yes.  Earl Grey is my favourite.  Is it Twinings?”

            “It is, dear.  Bill?”      

            “No thanks.”  He was sulking.  “I was actually thinking we should probably go soon.  Persimmon?”

            “If Sheila doesn’t mind, I think I’d like to stay a while longer.”

            “Well, I think we should be going.”

            “Well, go then.  I’d like to stay.  Sheila?”

            “By all means, the night is young.”

            “Persimmon, let’s be reasonable.”

            “I want to see Sheila alone.”

            “And you’re not doing any such thing.”

            “You’re afraid we’re going to talk about you.  Aren’t you? Women teaming up against their common enemy, Man.  Well, Bill, we are going to talk about you, but only for a little while because you are not that important, and we’re bound to find some more interesting topics of discussion before very long.”

            “Then I think I’m going to stay a bit longer.”

            “Bill”, Sheila said, “I think it’s time for you to leave.”

            “You’re throwing me out?”

            “I probably am, since you’re not about to leave willingly.  But I do want to visit alone with Persimmon.  Do you mind?”

            “Yes, I do mind.”

            “Well, that’s just tough.  You can have your turn with me in a day or two, if you like.  In the meantime, goodbye.”

           

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