"See, that's why you need someone to teach you. That's why we have these stupid classes for you,” she said, and I got the feeling that she wobbled awfully close to level three. “The third level of intoxication is where strong, healthy women do not go! Gifted, Guru, Gladiator, Gacker, and Goner. Strong, healthy women do not need to go beyond Guru.” The subsequent burp went a long way to reinforce her teachings.
I jumped in before she could reinforce anything else. “You cannot go past this point. You are more than welcome to stay at this point, if you choose, but you cannot go beyond. Charlize and Sam have sodas, juices, coffee, snacks—whatever. Donot go beyond this point. Promise?"
To that, all glasses were raised and “Promise!” momentarily drowned out the music. It seemed an oxymoron, but trust had prevailed all day.
I gently pulled Claudia with me onto the couch. “Are you okay? You want me to call Earl for a little sobering advice?"
"I'm okay,” she assured. “Earl would be a party pooper. Besides, I actually feel pretty good.” She patted her face, as if verifying that it was still there. “I can't remember the last time I drank this much."
"You sure you're still level two?"
"Level one, baby,” she growled. “You're still the most gorgeous one in the room.” She straddled me and then laid a kiss on me so long and wild that it sucked the breath out of me, and I knew in a gasping instant the religion of “Oh God."
Choices. Choices. Damn choices! The booze had weakened her inhibitions, and through the fractures, her passion escaped—the passion she historically reserved for our private times—of which this was most definitely not one. I could take what she tendered or I could respect who I knew her to be. It was a big ... choice ... a monumental ... decision ... that required ... a lot ... of ... thought ... and ...Oh God!
"Honey!” I finally said through flattened and tingling lips. “I'm getting Earl before we do something you'll regret."
Her kissing slowed until her passion merely simmered. “Shit! Okay, you better do that. I've got to hit the bathroom anyway.” She moved to sit next to me and patted her face again.
"I say hold off on taking a pee until it's absolutely necessary; otherwise, you'll break the seal."
"What the hell does that mean? Break what seal?"
"Break the seal,” I repeated. “If you pee once, you'll have to pee a thousand times."
She still didn't understand, but I knew that eventually she would.
I made my way upstairs to brew a cup of tea for her. The house was dark as evening submissively gave in to the night. I turned on lights, set the kettle to boil, and stole a smoke while I waited.
When I returned to the basement, I found her stretched out on the couch where I had left her. In front of her, Maggie, Susan, and Holly sat pretzel-legged. The four of them talked madly all at the same time. I figured that when the fits of laughter came, each laughed at herself because she couldn't possibly have understood what anyone else had said.
As I approached, she sat up to make room for me. I carefully handed her the mug of Earl, and I could tell that she was grateful. I gave her a few minutes to sip, and then I reminded her that we needed to stay on schedule.
Since I knew that Earl rain was much harsher than Margarita, I took the mug from her as she stood.
"Everybody!” she yelled. “We need to keep moving. The school day is not over. Now we head to Psychology."
She received undivided attention rather quickly this time, and I noted everyone's reaction, especially Kris'. She crossed her arms over her chest and made what I could only call an “I dare ya” face.
Claudia looked at me with glassy, imploring eyes, and I knew that the mic had been prematurely handed to me.
I began, “In Psychology, they taught us about the psyche, the ego and the id, disorders, and a whole bunch of hoo-ha. But they forgot an important lesson. When you're in school, you can't even pick your own clothes; it's dictated by the label. You can't even choose your own hairstyle; it's dictated by magazines. And you certainly can't pick your own friends; you must qualify. So what did we need to learn in order to grow up to be strong, healthy women?"
They stared blankly at me. I was neither a manager nor a squad captain. I failed to ignite. I failed to incite. I failed to be Claudia, and I found that to be extremely ironic at that moment. My own imploring eyes made the return trip to Claudia, the imaginary mic lobbed in her direction.
"They should have taught us how to be someone we're not!” she shouted, and the lot of them yelled “Yeah!”
“Strong, healthy women need to know how to pull that off and still retain who they are."
"Yeah!” came again. They were incited, and I knew that it was safe to take the mic back. “So what we want you to do is to stop being yourself. Until the end of class, you will be your partner. Mannerism, speech, beliefs—the whole she-bang.” I searched out Alison in the crowd and found her on the far side of the room, sitting with Janice. “Alison, you can either hook up with Janice and give it a try or just enjoy the ride."
Then I looked to our bartender and chef. “You guys are welcome to join in as well."
Both of them shook their heads theatrically as if I had just invited them to pour gasoline all over themselves while I lit a match. I stuck out my tongue at them and called them chickens.
"Okay, from here on out, you are your partner."
Partner looked to partner, and each remained clueless. I admit, I was, too, or maybe just uncomfortable. We needed an icebreaker or maybe an ice pick. My eyes raced to those who usually dealt with the icy situations.
Nothing.Shit! I would have to take the berg by the horns.
I very dramatically ran up to Laura. “Oh my God, Holly, where did you get those pants? I love them. Were they on sale? Do they come in green?"
Laura immediately starting laughing and wailed, “Oh, that is so sweet that you noticed! Oh my God, there is such a beautiful sale going on. We should go! Oh, let's go! That would be sweet! But do you think they make my butt look big?” She slapped her hands to her face, turned her body, and stuck her ass out as far as she could without falling over.
Our indignant but laughing partners moved into the fray, walloping us on arrival. Then Holly stopped, grabbed her crotch, shook one leg a bit, and shouted, “Hey, Kate, mine's bigger than yours is!"
A giggling Claudia replied, “Oh no, it's not! Why mine hangs all the way down to here!” She proceeded to grab her ankle, and I realized that Earl had not done a very good job stabilizing her. She landed on the floor, laughing hysterically.
Susan suddenly approached. She put her hands on her sides and thrust her hips to and fro like exclamation points. “You know,” she said. “It is very sexist and demeaning to all women to assign them male body parts.
Women do not have testicles or penises. Think about the cosmic ramifications of what you're doing!"
Maggie was not laughing. She said, “Oh, Maggie, they mean no harm. It's all in fun.” I swear she bit her tongue.
Susan stared her down. “Itis harmful!” she emoted. “It fills the world with negative energy, and that affects every living thing. We all should be allowed to be who we are, unencumbered and free!” To dropping jaws, she performed that magic trick that all women know. She unclasped her bra, pulled a strap out each shirtsleeve, andpresto chango: with one long, quick pull, she was braless. She whipped it, and it sailed in the direction of Sam and Charlize, who ducked behind the bar as if that lit match had been thrown. She kicked off her shoes and began twirling in lopsided circles. Then she, too, landed laughing on the floor.
With hands outstretched, Ginny walked into the center of our gathering. “I think I can explain this all, girls,”
she said, looking oh so serious and sounding like a lecturer. “After all, I am the expert. I can diagnose and cure you before you even know what hit you.” She paused to look at Kris, whose arms were still crossed and lips were held tight so she couldn't smile and give herself away.
"Yes, I can do that,” Ginny continued. “But my own behavior? Well, I have a double standard you wouldn't believe. But let me try to explain since I am so in love with the sound of my own voice.” She stopped to clear her throat. “See Ginny over there? Well, I've been a very consistent and loving partner to her for almost twenty-five years, but then I decided to hell with tradition and trust.”Uh oh! “To hell with our yearly trip after semester's end! To hell with celebrating us. To hell with anniversaries and looking ahead to the next year. I have more important things to do!"
I held my breath here.
Kris rose from the couch and walked up to Ginny. She smiled at her, and I did not think that anyone, especially Ginny, expected it. Then she said, “On a good day, I would probably cuff Kris upside the head and ask her just what the heck she was thinking. On a good day, I would trust that there was indeed something so important that she had to change the rules like that. On a good day, I would wag the trust finger at myself and not at her. See, trust goes both ways. How many times have I told you all that?"
She looked at us each individually. How we ended up on the hot seat of shame was beyond me. Each of us met her eyes, and then we penitently lowered our heads.
Her eyes stopped on Ginny, and relieved, we all breathed again. She continued, “On a bad day, though, my feelings get hurt. Twenty-five years, after all, is a gosh darn big deal. It's the silver one, you know. So instead of trusting this creature who has been trustworthy for decades, why, I just give up and pout like a little girl who doesn't think she's going to get what she wants for Christmas. Santa could be busy in his workshop. Elves could be all around me. Why, there could even be presents hiding—like maybe even in Kris’ pocket right now. But I cannot see. My mouth is in such a big pout that it's covering my eyes."
Ginny was indeed blinded by what hurt her; the big ass neon sign Kris just flashed at her went completely unnoticed. Instead, she railed, “Yes, and I would be doing my utmost to reassure!"
"I have been, you stubborn old bag!” Kris yelled, reclaiming and defending herself. “Short of telling you that I'm busy in the damn workshop, I've given you hints all along. You are so pig-headed!"
"Is that a clinical term?” she asked, unamused.
Kris slapped her thighs, bent over, and let out a scream of exasperation. “I think I like being you better. More gets accomplished,” she said. “Ah, maybe I should be the both of us!” She turned and stood next to Ginny. To the vacant space where she had just stood, she yelled, “Oh, Kris dear, did I just hear you say that there was something in your pocket?” She hopped back to her original position. “You mean when I told you that presents were hiding, like maybe even in my pocket?” She moved back next to Ginny, cocked her head, and shouted,
“Kris dear, are you telling me there's a present in your pants’ pocket?” Then she waited; we all waited.
After what seemed like the passage of another twenty-five years, Ginny turned to her and asked, “Are you?"
That time we all let out a scream of exasperation.
She smiled and scooted behind Kris. She reached her arms around her and then stopped just as quickly. “If this is somebody's sick way of getting me to frisk her in public, Iwill be mad."
Kris crisscrossed her hands, grabbed Ginny's, and with a dosey-do maneuver, twisted around to face her.
Ginny's arms were now crisscrossed. “Listen!” she said. “I watched you sit and write every clue for that scavenger hunt, all the way down to counting the darn syllables. You connived, you plotted, and you took utter delight in messing with everyone in this room! If anyone's messing with you—which I joyfully admit that I am—you've got it coming to you."
"She's lying, girls. I did not.” She smiled, and it was the first soulful one I had seen all day. She spun Kris around and stuck her hands in both of her front pants’ pockets. Seconds later, she stared at a few of those cheesy paper luggage tags airlines distribute at check-in counters. In her other hand, she held a set of miniature keys on an Eiffel Tower keychain.
Like a skilled orchestra conductor, I raised my hand high and pointed down to Alison. With perfect syncopation, she shouted, “Hey, I thought we were supposed to hand over our keys!"
As they say, I amazed even myself. “Unless we're playing Honey-I-Shrunk-the-Little-Woman, I think it's okay,”
I retorted as I watched Ginny try to make sense of her clues.
"This tells me very little,” she pronounced.
"It tells you enough. Now go back to being me because we've already ruined Claudia and Kate's little game.”
She grabbed Ginny by the cheeks, gave her a kiss, and said, “Trust me."
"I am the most frustrating person I know,” Ginny said. She smiled sheepishly and clarified, “That would be Kris speaking, not me."
We all laughed, and then the free-for-all began again.
"That is so sweet, Kris!” Holly gushed.
Laura grabbed her around the waist and corrected, “That is not what I would say!"
"Oh yeah!” Holly reminded herself, laughing. She lowered her voice and shouted, “That is f-ing something, Kris!"
This time I jumped in to help get the ball rolling again. “Holly, isn't it just so funny that we can do what we want, and they end up taking the rap for it?"
Laura replied, “Oh, it is so sweet. We are bad, bad girls, but all they do is smile at us, and they look at those two bozos as the troublemakers they are! Sweet! So sweet!"
"Holly, I think you should lock Laura in the shower again! Show her who's boss."
Laura's mouth opened wide. “Oh my God, Claudia, like that is such a good idea! Absolutely beautiful.” She charged Holly and lifted her over her shoulder, failing to remember that basement ceilings were far lower than upstairs ceilings. She twirled her around several times, until her crouching legs could give no more. Thankfully, a good portion of the couch broke their fall.
Holly jumped on top of her. “I wouldn't argue if you did lock me in the shower, as long as you came with me.”
She leaned down and kissed her, those hips of hers genuflecting in true Laura style.