Amelia weeps openly as the fireflies rise above the funeral pyre. The odd snuffle undermines Eric’s attempts to maintain an image of stoicism.
“That was depressing all right.” Amelia blows her nose as the credits roll. “But it was the wrong kind of depressing.”
“Wait a minute, wait just one minute– what do you mean the wrong kind of depressing! You never said anything about there being different types of depressing.”
“Uh no, but I figured any guy who could come up with that Loneliness song would understand we’re talking love-lorn depression here. You know, star crossed lovers, like that. What my mom would call a tear jerker, and my dad would call mush.”
“Sorry, next time put on a qualifier. I guess this means it’s your turn?”
“Sure is, and I’ve got just the thing.” Amelia puts City of Angels in the machine.
Eric says, “You still haven’t told me who the guy is.
“Guy?” Amelia asks innocently. “What guy?”
“Your guy.”
“Oh, he’s not my guy. If he was my guy would I be here with you?” She laughs.
“Amelia?”
“What?”
“Why didn’t anybody tell me Elsie was fucking every guy she clapped eyes on?”
“Well.” Amelia clears her throat. He’s watching her expectantly, so she can’t dodge it outright. “Not every guy.”
Holding up his hands, Eric says, “Stop. I don’t want to know, really.” He slumps back in his corner of the sofa. “Just now that it’s too late everybody’s happy to fill me in on the gory details.”
“I haven’t.”
“Huh. No. You haven’t. Why haven’t you?”
“Would it help?”
“No.”
“And you might get back together with her.”
“No way. No how. Never.”
“Really?”
“Maybe. But why didn’t anybody tell me then?”
“Would you have listened?”
“Probably not. But I feel seriously stupid now. But even so I miss her. I’ll be laying in my room, all by myself and then suddenly I can smell her. Instant hard on.” Eric claps his hand over his mouth. “Sorry, I mean ….”
“Bodily functions happen to the best of us.” Amelia grins. “But I know what you mean, and they say scent memory is the worst. Maybe wash your sheets, any clothes she wore, like that.”
“That’s a good idea. But it’s so weird to be discussing this…”
“With a girl?” Amelia laughs. “So tell me, what guy can you discuss this with?”
“Uh. I guess there isn’t one. Jose would be closest, but really, we’re just drinking buddies. I haven’t really discussed her with him. I hooked up with Elsie in the first week and, well. I guess there wasn’t time for anybody except school and Elsie. Once in a while I’d maybe have a beer with the guys after class. Mostly I haven’t really been available to be friends with anyone.” He smiles over at her. “Until now.”
“Maybe that’s part of why nobody told you. Acquaintances aren’t usually willing to go out on a limb for you. It’s a big risk telling anyone they’re being stepped out on. Messengers do get shot you know.”
“Yeah, I guess. And in a lot of ways I’m still hung up on her, and sometimes I think if she just looked at me the right way, well maybe I would go back to her.
“Really?”
“Well. Maybe. I can’t get her out of my head.”
“Just take it easy, that’s all. Try to give it time.”
“Are you attracted to me?”
“Um.” Amelia purses her lips. “Maybe I shouldn’t answer.”
“Aw hell, Amelia, I’m not ‘the guy’ am I? I mean I like you a lot but I’m not remotely attracted to you.
“Oh that’s a relief.” Amelia bursts out laughing.
Eric frowns. “What?”
“I was worried you were eying me up for a rebound. I like you as a friend, and you’re not bad looking, and you are the kind of guy I ought to be attracted to. But I’m just not. Sorry.”
“So why wouldn’t you just say that before?”
“Because I figured you’ve had your heart stomped pretty good, I didn’t want to stomp it more. But I do like you and I’d be honored to be your friend. Just not your squeeze.”
Eric snorts. “Squeeze, who says squeeze?”
“If we’re gonna hang around together you better know up front that after Asimov my favorite author is Dash Hammett. I love anything noir but Dash is the man. So sometimes words like ‘squeeze’ and ‘gunsel’ just pop right out in my conversation.”
Eric looks at her and bursts out laughing.
“What’s so funny about that?”
“That’s great. You talk like a Bogart character and we aren’t romantically attracted to each other. Great.”
“Does that mean we can be friends?”
“Sure. But only on one condition. You have to tell me who the guy is.”
Amelia glances around, making sure no one is lurking, listening. She puts in the DVD and comes back to sit beside Eric. Leaning close she whispers in his ear, “Jose.”
“Jose? You’re talking about Jose? You think Jose is a hunk?”
“Shhh!”
“But he’s, he’s, ordinary. He doesn’t even have muscles or anything. Even I probably have a better body than he does.”
“Most girls aren’t into the muscle man thing. That’s more a guy thing, to want to look like that, part of the whole alpha male deal. Not to say we don’t want a guy to have a good body, but that’s not the most important thing. But Jose’s body is pretty good.”
He looks at her in surprise. “Why on earth would you like Jose? I mean he’s a nice guy and all, but he’s… you’re really smart and, how do I say this… He doesn’t have two brain cells to rub together.”
“It isn’t his brains that get me hot.”
“Uh. This is a weird thing to be discussing with a girl.”
“Look, I have brothers so I doubt you could shock me.”
“Well I have a sister and you sure as shit can shock me.”
“Sorry.”
“No, don’t be. This is interesting. What do you see in Jose?”
“He may not be Einstein, but he’s not as dim as you think, he just keeps stuff inside.”
“You think so?” Eric asks thoughtfully.
“Yeah. There’s a lot going on behind his eyes. You know, the strong silent type. He may be sacrificing more brain cells than he can afford smoking up, but he has a few. That’s not the point.”
“But what is the point then? I don’t get it.”
“Because you’re a straight guy, Eric.” She closes her eyes a moment. “I think he exudes pheromones. And of course it doesn’t hurt he’s got great buns. What can I say, there’s something about the guy that makes me want to rip off his clothes. Maybe it’s his bedroom eyes. They are just so deep. And he’s got great eyelashes too, and yummy lips, you know. Kissable.
“Stop … no more. This is farther than I really wanna go here, okay? Jose is a friend, we eat lunch together and stuff. I really don’t need this picture in my head.”
“The only girl he even looks at is that Barbie bimbo.”
“Well.”
“Ahhh. I get it. You think she’s hot too.”
“Well, duh. I am a straight male.”
“Uh huh. One that doesn’t find me at all alluring.”
“Uh … well Barbie’s got …”
“Hooters. I get it Eric.”
“Not that I’d want to go there.”
“Because of Jose?”
“Yes. No. I don’t know.”
“The girl is drop dead gorgeous.”
“Sure, and she’d be fine in a wet dream but I just can’t see having a conversation with her.”
Amelia smiles. “I kind of feel sorry for her.”
“I thought girls were supposed to instinctively hate classic golden girls. You did call her a bimbo..”
“I admit I’d be happier if Jose wasn’t hung up on her. But that’s another urban myth. Beyond the odd loner like Elsie, women hang together. Sisterhood wasn’t invented in the 60’s. Historically women looked out for each other and built the community while the hunters wandered around hoping for something to kill.”
“So why do you feel sorry for her?”
“It’s that intelligence thing. I think she was bright once but hasn’t actually had to use her brain in so long she’s forgotten how. It’s easier to let everyone do for you than to do it yourself.”
“She seems to enjoy it.”
“I’d expect it seems fun at first, like getting something for nothing. But for me it’d get old awfully fast. There’s a rush you get from doing it yourself. First time I had a poem published in the paper I was eleven. It was cool, but it wouldn’t have been as good if somebody else had helped me, or heaven forbid, written it for me.”
