Pulpy and Midge (6 page)

‘Oh, right.' Beatrice smiled slyly. ‘I guess I was getting ahead of myself. I have great faith in my partner, that's all.'

‘As well you should,' said Dan. ‘I can see you becoming a real driving force in the office, Pulpy.'

‘You can?' said Pulpy.

‘
We
can,' said Beatrice. ‘You're going to be instrumental in our workplace makeover!'

‘I am?' he said.

‘Do you work there too?' Midge said to Beatrice.

‘Beatrice starts tomorrow,' said Dan.

‘Probably tomorrow,' said Beatrice. ‘I'm not sure yet.'

Dan looked at her, then took two mini-pizzas and ate them quickly.

‘Oh,' said Midge. ‘I didn't realize you were both working there.'

‘Dan's turning things around,' said Beatrice. ‘He's going to organize a potluck.'

‘That's right.' Dan nodded. ‘Staff parties, and potlucks in particular, are proven team builders.'

‘We heard about
your
party,' said Beatrice.

‘What party?' said Pulpy.

‘Your Christmas party!' said Dan. ‘Al told me all about it. Ho-ho, sounds like it was quite the shindig!'

Midge made a sound in the back of her throat, and Pulpy said, ‘We don't really like to talk about it, actually.'

‘Sure.' Beatrice smiled at Midge. ‘We had this parakeet once, at our old place, that liked to eat chicken! Can you believe that?'

‘Nobody could believe it!' said Dan.

‘Nobody could. But all he would eat was chicken. Anyway, one day I was cleaning his cage –'

‘She was using the vacuum,' said Dan.

Beatrice gave him a sideways look. ‘And I was using the
vacuum,
' she said, ‘and I sucked him up! I was cleaning the cage and – whoops – up he went. Trying to get rid of one mess and ending up with another.' She shook her head. ‘So we can relate.'

‘I miss that chicken-eating bird,' said Dan.

Beatrice nodded. ‘We all do.'

Pulpy looked at Midge, who was looking at her skirt again. ‘Well,' he said, ‘that's quite a story.'

Beatrice nodded, and elbowed him. ‘Now let's see those magic charade hands in action!'

A few weeks before last Christmas, Midge had befriended a pigeon that was roosting in their backyard flowerpot. She earned the bird's trust gradually, progressing from breadcrumb-lobbing to offering crusts at arm's length. Pretty soon the pigeon was accepting whole pieces of toast from her palm.

One day Pulpy walked into their small square of backyard, and Midge was sitting on a lawn chair in her winter coat, with the pigeon perched on her head.

‘Shh,' she whispered. ‘Mrs. Wings is sleeping.'

‘Her eyes are open,' said Pulpy.

Midge lifted her arm to check her watch, careful not to startle the bird. ‘Well, she hasn't moved for half an hour.'

‘That's quite a while.'

She beamed at him. ‘Isn't it?'

Pulpy smiled at her and the pigeon, and left them alone.

A few weeks later, Midge hosted a Christmas fondue-and-candle party for Pulpy's office mates.

‘It'll increase my sales and your visibility,' she told him. ‘If we're going to advance in this world, we need to take the initiative.'

Unfortunately, Al and his wife brought their schnauzer. By the time Midge thought to check on Mrs. Wings after performing her clean-burning-wick demonstration and then cutting a loaf of bread into little cubes, there wasn't much left of her pet pigeon but a few bloody feathers.

Al had promised Pulpy a promotion the next day.

‘Did I tell you they got my underwear stuck in the cash register?' said Midge while Pulpy was getting ready for work.

‘No,' he said, and waggled his eyebrows. ‘I don't think you did.'

They were sitting on the loveseat. Pulpy was in his shirt and tie and new brown pants, and Midge was in her robe.

‘I was in line at the department store buying your pants, and some underwear for myself because I was running low. I bought a few pairs of the shiny kind you like, with the lacy elastic? And somehow the cashier closed the cash drawer on one of them, and then she started yanking on it. Well, at first it was tugging. But it wasn't very long before it was yanking.' She bent her elbow and rammed it sideways to show him.

‘Hmm.' He stood up. ‘Did she say anything?'

‘Not to me. But she said to the woman who was bagging for her, “I can't get these panties out of my cash drawer.” Like it was the panties' fault. And the woman who was bagging for
her said, “Why don't you ring in the purchases first, and
then
get the panties out when the cash drawer pops open?” It was a spectacle. Shoppers at the back of the line knew what was going on. I don't know how I'm going to show my face when I return your pants today.'

‘I think I'll keep them all.' Pulpy took his coat off the coat tree and pushed his hands through the sleeves. ‘I think I'll keep all three pairs of pants. Then you don't have to worry about returning them. It's time I gave my wardrobe a makeover. Plus, they're very comfortable.'

‘And Beatrice likes them too.' Midge frowned. ‘The way they
jingle,
she said.'

‘Beatrice?' His zipper caught on the way up and he struggled with it. ‘Midge, she's my boss's wife.'

She crossed her legs. ‘I don't think I'd like a thong. Would you like me to wear a thong?'

He blinked at her. ‘I'd like it if you liked it. Only if it was comfortable for you. Or it doesn't matter.'

‘Then maybe I'll try it.' She looked at the empty space next to her on the couch and cinched her robe tighter.

‘That might be nice.' Pulpy reached in and moved some hair off her forehead. The way Midge's hair feathered at the sides of her head was like the scalloped edge of a seashell, and he loved that about her.

‘Although I really think it would be uncomfortable. They
look
uncomfortable,' she said. ‘Plus nobody I know wears one. At least, nobody's told me they do.'

‘Would your friends tell you they were wearing a thong?' The seashell scallops didn't show up in photos, and Pulpy thought that was a shame. ‘I think my friends would be embarrassed to tell me.'

‘Your friends wouldn't wear a thong.'

He nodded and started putting on his boots. ‘I should get to work.'

‘Let's have the evening to ourselves tonight,' she said. ‘I want it to be just us. I'll show off my new hairdo for you.'

‘Okay, that sounds nice. They won't cut too much, though, will they?'

‘I'll tell them.' She smiled at him. ‘How's your fish? I bet it's fun having him on your desk.'

‘Oh, fine.' He lifted his right foot to pull on that boot and nearly lost his balance.

She reached out to steady him. ‘Mr. Fins loves it in our bedroom. He just swims and swims.'

‘Pulpy!' said Dan's voice as soon as Pulpy sat down.

Pulpy jerked, and Eduardo in the next cubicle leaned back a little to see around their partition.

Dan came up and clapped Pulpy on the back. ‘Beatrice and I had a great time with you and Midge last night!'

‘Well.' Pulpy watched Eduardo listening. ‘Thank you. We did too.'

‘A
great
time. And I was thinking – Beatrice and I were saying to each other after you left – that you are exactly the person we need to set things right around here.'

‘I am?'

‘You are.'

‘Is Beatrice here today?'

‘She's going to start tomorrow.' Dan focused on Pulpy's computer screen. ‘She had some appointments to attend.'

Pulpy moved his cursor, just to do something. ‘Midge is getting her hair cut today.'

‘There you go.' Dan smiled at him. ‘Beatrice was saying she'd love to go shopping with Midge sometime. Do you think Midge would like that?'

‘Oh, sure.' He nodded. ‘Sure she would.'

‘Great. You know, Pulpy, I think we can really do a lot better here. There is definite room for improvement in this office, and as head of the Social Committee you could be a real force for change.'

‘Do we have a Social Committee?'

‘We do now. You can't organize a potluck without a Social Committee.'

‘Hmm,' said Pulpy. ‘I never really think of myself as a force.'

‘Well, you can start today. Because a force is what you are. A force to be reckoned with.'

Pulpy looked down at his chest and pulled at his shirt to make the buttons align more evenly. ‘Maybe you're right.'

‘I know I am. And I'm glad to see you're coming around. Now all we need is some forward momentum and there's nothing we can't do.'

He pinched his fingers along the neat fold down the front of his new pants. ‘Then I guess it's worth a try.'

‘So!' Dan put his hands on his hips. ‘What are you and Midge up to this evening?'

‘Hmm, well. I'm not sure.'

‘Great! We'll come over.'

‘Oh, Pulpy, my hair looks awful!'

‘What happened?' Pulpy had the pay phone between his cheek and his shoulder and was holding a napkin dispenser from one of the food-court tables. He pulled out a napkin and dabbed it onto the mustard stain on his new pants.

‘I said to her, “The front and the sides are good. Don't touch the front or the sides. The top and the back, that's all I need done.” But she didn't listen to me!'

‘I'm sure it looks fine. But maybe you should try a different hairdresser next time.'

‘I couldn't do
that.
' She went quiet for a second. ‘I've been with her for so long, Pulpy. We have a history together. And then what if the new hairdresser did a bad job? A
worse
job? Then I'd have to go back to my old hairdresser and she'd know I'd seen someone else and it would be very uncomfortable.'

‘You could if you wanted to.' The stain wasn't coming out. He shoved the soiled napkin into the breast pocket of his coat and pulled a fresh one out of the dispenser. ‘It's all about reframing.'

‘Where did you hear that?'

‘The receptionist. She's taking a course.'

‘Hmm,' said Midge.

‘Did we have a plan for tonight?' he said. ‘Were we doing anything?'

‘No, we said we were staying in, remember?'

Neither of them said anything for a few seconds and then Pulpy cleared his throat. ‘Guess what? Dan made me the head of the Social Committee.'

‘He did? That's got to be a good sign. Has he said anything about your promotion yet?'

‘Not yet. But I'm organizing a potluck. I have to make a sign-up sheet.' He lost his grip on the napkin and it drifted to the floor. ‘Dan also said Beatrice wants to go shopping with you.'

‘What? But I don't even know her.'

‘But at the Ice Follies. You got to know her then. And she's my boss's wife.'

‘I know she's your boss's wife. I just didn't like the way she looked at you. Or me. She has a very judgmental way of looking at other women. She starts at their shoes and then she looks up, like to see what kind of a person would be wearing those shoes.'

‘Really? I didn't notice that.'

‘Well, you wouldn't. You always give people the benefit of the doubt, Pulpy. That's what gets you in trouble.' Midge sighed. ‘Why would she want to go shopping with me?'

‘I don't know. Maybe she's lonely.'

‘How can she be lonely? She's married.'

‘Sometimes married people get lonely,' he said.

‘Not us, though, right?'

‘No way.' His neck was hurting, so he tried to reposition the phone by squishing his cheek sideways, but the motion dislodged the receiver and it fell and swung in a wide arc on its cord. He grabbed for it, letting go of the napkin dispenser. ‘Hello? Midge?' The dispenser banged onto the floor.

‘What happened?' she said. ‘What was all that noise?'

‘Nothing. I just – Nothing.' He toed the dispenser, unsuccessfully trying to right it.

Pulpy sat in front of his computer screen and typed ‘Food To Bring To The Potluck.'

He looked at that for a minute and then changed it to ‘Food I Will Bring To The Potluck.'

He cursored back. ‘Potluck (Food) Contribution.'

That one made him nod. He spaced down and typed ‘Employee Name' and made a bunch of lines underneath. Then he hit Print.

When he went downstairs to post the sign-up sheet, the receptionist said to him, ‘Do you smell that?'

He sniffed the air. ‘Popcorn.'

‘That's right. I hate popcorn! I can't stand the smell of it.' She glowered. ‘He thinks he's so smart, but he's not. He's stupid.'

‘Who?'