Love Over Moon Street Page 6

  “Should she be doing that?” Cheryl said, pointing at Pen.

  “Oh, it’s fine,” Lexus said. “She used to cook her mother’s black tar heroin—croutons are baby games.”

  Cheryl’s eyes got big. “Really?”

  “Naw, I was just joshing,” Pen said.

  “C’mon,” Lexus said, pulling at Sparky’s arm.

  The rest of the apartment was tasteful with sleek leather and dark wood furniture. It had the same look as Sparky’s furniture, which meant it had come from IKEA too. Sparky wondered if her apartment would resemble this one when Lexus was done helping her with her purchases. The library made Sparky’s heart do a joyous double take. It was floor-to-ceiling bookcases which were filled not with bric-a-brac but well-worn books. In the center of the room were two hunter green wingback chairs and a coffee table. On one wall an alcove held a small rolltop desk, which, judging from the electrical cords, housed a computer. The wall above the desk and around it also contained bookcases as if the desk were a sort of mole on the skin of the room. It was an honest-to-God library.

  Lexus looked at Sparky, who was flabbergasted. “Wow,” Sparky said.

  “I know, right? This is like my crowning achievement. It took me four years of saving my allowance to buy all the bookcases. The books I’ve been collecting all my life.”

  “You’re a librarian, right?” Sparky said.

  “Among other things. I have a short attention span so it’s truly amazing that I can read like I do.”

  Sparky had wondered about that. She’d never seen anyone with so much energy. Lexus seemed to sense her incredulity.

  “Believe me. It can be a curse sometimes. But when I read it’s like my mind can completely focus and it, like, turns off my body and we all sit in companionable silence. It’s blissful. My mom got me to read because if you think I’m bad now, you should have seen me as a child. That’s why I wanted to become a librarian. I’m the book buyer for the children’s department as well as the bookmobile driver and roving librarian. Reading for a hyper kid is like a godsend. What you have to do is essentially take a kinetic learner and engage them so completely that their brains rather than their bodies are excited. Because the thing is, not everyone who is hyper can grow up to be an athlete and make a living at it. Kids need to be able to read so they can function in the world.”

  “Wow. You are so…” Sparky was stuck. “Diverse.”

  Lexus laughed her bubbly girl laugh that was so infectious. “C’mon, we better get back to the kitchen before Cheryl hurts herself. She is hopeless in the culinary department.”

  When they returned to the kitchen, Cheryl and Pen were engaged in origami. Pen was folding squares of white paper into swans.

  Lexus was delighted. “How cool is that!” she said, pointing at six swans sitting on the counter. She looked over at Cheryl, who was attempting to make something as well.

  Sparky and Lexus both studied her effort. “What’s yours supposed to be?” Sparky said, attempting to be judicious.

  “A swan. Doesn’t it look like one?” Cheryl said.

  Lexus cocked her head to one side and studied it. “No, I’d say it looked more like a sea turtle.”

  Cheryl glanced at Pen’s swans and then at her own. “Well, it’s not exactly easy. You try it,” she said, thrusting a piece of paper at Lexus.

  Cheryl had the look of someone about to be vindicated. Lexus studied the paper bird for approximately five seconds and then whipped one out.

  Cheryl stared. “How on earth did you do that?”

  “Oh, it’s easy. It’s all about geometry and Japanese history and the artistry of the ephemeral.”

  “You got all that from looking at the thing and making it?” Sparky said. She was impressed. Of course, most things she was discovering about Lexus impressed her. She’d never met anyone like her. She felt rather dull and lacking. Is this what being sequestered for nine years with an Eye-Biter did to a person?

  Pen and Lexus burst out laughing.

  “I think we’ve been taken,” Cheryl said.

  Pen confessed. “We practiced.”

  “I taught a class on ‘Possibility and Paper’ for one of my life-coaching classes. We did origami and journaling.”

  “Not fair,” Cheryl said.

  “I don’t get how origami and journaling go together,” Sparky said.

  “It’s easy. I had everyone write down their most shameful and embarrassing moments and then we made them into beautiful origami things. It’s about metamorphosis.”

  “Show us how,” Sparky said. She heard E.B.’s voice, “What, so now you want to pretend you’re a kid or that you’ve rediscovered your lost joie de vivre. It’s way too late for that.” Sparky did a mental drag-and-drop to the trash bin and felt good about doing it.

  Cheryl glanced at Sparky. “Yes, you two smarty-pantses, show us how.”

  Within twenty minutes they had a flock of paper swans. They looked pretty, Sparky thought, scattered across the countertop like that.

  “I wish they weren’t paper so we could float them,” Pen said.

  Sparky thought for a minute. “We could polyurethane them and float them in the courtyard fountain.”

  Lexus’s eyes lit up. “We could—except I don’t have any polyurethane.”

  “But I do,” Sparky said.

  “One of the things the Eye-Biter didn’t keep?” Pen asked.

  “I store my tools and stuff in my truck, thank God,” Sparky said.

  “Can we try?” Pen asked. She actually looked like a child for a moment instead of a well-worn, overexperienced adult in a child’s body.

  “We can,” Lexus said.

  “What about…?” Cheryl pointed to the fondue preparations.

  “It can wait,” Lexus said, with a cavalier sweep of her hand.

  They tromped outside, each carrying an armful of paper birds. Sparky dug out a piece of cardboard and two cans of spray-on polyurethane. She handed one to Pen because she was the kid. She handed the other can to Lexus because she was hopping up and down and looking pleadingly at her—like a kid.

  Vibro came up the walk, carrying a bouquet of white calla lilies. “What’s up?” she said. She glanced at the swans. “Party favors?”

  “Decorations,” Pen replied. “Are those for the party?” She pointed to the flowers.

  “Yes. They’re my hostess gift. I thought calla lilies were perfect for the white party theme,” Vibro said.

  “Can I touch them?” Pen said.

  “Sure,” Vibro said, handing Pen the bouquet.

  Pen ran her finger along the smooth white petals of the flowers. “They’re so soft.”

  “You can take them in and put them in a vase, if you want, since they’re for the party,” Vibro said.

  “Sure,” Pen said.

  “‘White theme’?” Sparky inquired.

  “The fondue pot and forks are white so I’m building a white theme. I’d like you to dress in all white if possible,” Lexus said.

  “Really?” Sparky said. She did a mental inventory. Her wardrobe was minimal as the Eye-Biter wasn’t giving the rest of her clothes up.

  “I’m very organic when it comes to planning,” Lexus said, waving a hand expansively.

  “How did Vibro know about the white thing?” Cheryl asked, pointing to the flowers.

  “I called and asked about bringing flowers,” Vibro said.

  “Oh,” Cheryl said.

  Sparky felt a twinge of panic. She’d never been to a theme party. Cheryl must have sensed it. She leaned over and whispered. “Just wear white underwear.”

  Sparky’s eyes got big.

  “I’m kidding,” Cheryl said. “Wear whatever you have. I’m not dressing up.”

  Sparky didn’t know if she was more surprised by the underwear thing or by Cheryl making a funny.

  Pen returned and she and Lexus sprayed the birds.

  Sparky sat on the edge of the three-tiered fountain while the birds were waterproofed. The courtyard
of the apartment building was pretty. It wasn’t the wooded acres that she and Wesson had lived on—both swearing, having moved out of Seattle, that they could never live in town again. But here she was living on Capitol Hill, which was the gay mecca of the city and home to a counterculture of everything odd. It was liberating to be in the center of a place where everything goes. The other day she’d seen two people dressed as foxes in these fur suits having coffee in a café and a guy wearing ice skates that were frozen into a block of ice. He was doing an homage to Cyndi Lauper’s “Girls Just Want to Have Fun.”

  She studied the vintage architecture of 33 Moon Street. She liked that the address was carved in stone above the doorway. It added gravitas to the building, harkening back to the building’s Classic Revival roots. She knew all this because Lexus had insisted as part of her Moonie initiation that she learn about the architectural antecedents of Moon Street. It was like Lexus was the rental agent. “Now, these are Swedish oak floors, notice the alcove ceilings and, of course, the leaded glass windows. The fireplaces were wood-burning at one time but have been converted to natural gas. In a lot of these old buildings they’ve been walled over, so we are really lucky to have them,” Lexus said.

  Sparky also liked the private garden courtyard. It had an ornate three-tiered fountain on one side of the stone path leading from the apartment building to the street and a large flower garden full of blue camas and bleeding hearts. On the other side of the courtyard under a dogwood tree were a white bench and a birdbath. A black wrought-iron fence with fleur de lis tops divided street from yard.

  She almost felt at peace until she noticed that Vibro’s eyes were narrowed and pinned on a car pulling in across the street. Something was up. It was a fancy red Veloster with tricked-out wheels and tinted windows.

  The passenger door opened and out of it poured a pretty woman in a short skirt and a tank top. Tittering and wiggling her ass like one of the tarts down on Pike Street, she sashayed in front of the car and over to the open driver’s side window, where she leaned forward and began talking. She looked like a hooker making a deal.

  “Is that Jennifer? The woman who gave me the plant?” Sparky asked.

  “That’s my girlfriend Jennifer, and I wondered where that plant went,” Vibro said. Her mouth tightened into a grimace.

  Cheryl and Lexus glanced at each other.

  “Oh,” Sparky said.

  “I’m going to shower and change,” Vibro said. She stalked off.

  Jennifer’s ass was still hanging out in the street as she flirted with the person inside the car, apparently unaware of the fact that she had an audience. Pen looked up from her spraying. “She’d better be careful.”

  “Why?” Sparky asked. Did Pen know something untoward about Jennifer? It looked like she was flirting with the driver of the car. And how could she be so oblivious to their presence or was she more than aware and intent on pissing off her girlfriend?

  Sparky liked Vibro. She also thought she was gorgeous with her large milk chocolate-colored eyes and a slightly turned-up nose and legs that were to die for. She had looked very attractive in the Catholic schoolgirl outfit she was wearing today with its white blouse and red plaid skirt and bobby socks. It made Sparky want to be a schoolgirl again just so she could carry Vibro’s books.

  She realized that she was having a lustful moment. Her vagina was alive after all. When was the last time she’d had sex—four, five, six years ago? Lesbian Bed Death had been living in her and Wesson’s house for so long that she should’ve had her own room—instead of sleeping between them. Did Cheryl and Lexus still have sex, she wondered, or did they suffer from LBD too?

  “She could get hit by a car. I’ve seen it happen,” Pen said.

  No one appeared to doubt her.

  “I don’t want to know,” Sparky said, trying not to envision Pen watching prostitutes ply their trade.

  “Well, shall we see if they float?” Cheryl said, obviously wanting to change the subject.

  Sparky glanced over at Jennifer, who still had her ass out in the street. If that had been her, Wesson would have long since marched over, plucked Sparky up by the collar and drug her across the street. It would have been embarrassing for everyone. Instead Vibro had ignored Jennifer and Jennifer apparently was ignoring Vibro. Lesbians are a weird lot, Sparky thought.

  Pen gently placed the first swan in the water. It teetered a little and then righted itself as if adjusting its feathers. Pen clapped her hands. “It works!”

  Sparky smiled. “Polyurethane is pretty amazing stuff.”

  “Let’s put them all in,” Pen said.

  “Sure,” Sparky said.

  Pen scooped them up and began to launch each swan.

  “Pity polyurethane doesn’t provide a safety coating to keep invasive outsiders out of vaginas,” Cheryl muttered, looking over at Jennifer.

  Lexus laughed. Sparky smirked and this time she didn’t hide it.

  When the swans were all in the fountain, Pen asked if she could get her phone and take a picture. “So I can look at it later to remember.” Lexus had purchased a cell phone for her shortly after she’d come to live with them, Sparky remembered, recalling how excited Pen had been to show it off.

  “Sure, we’ll wait here. Go ahead,” Cheryl said.

  “We should get her a camera,” Lexus said, as they watched her go.

  “Does she like to take pictures?” Sparky asked.

  “I think it’s more like she wants to record memories,” Cheryl said. “Store them up so when the bad times come again she can look at them and remember being happy.” She smiled sadly. “I wish I could convince her the bad times won’t come again.”

  “It just takes time,” Sparky said, wondering if she was as shell-shocked about love as Pen was.

  “The upside of Pen being aware of the mercurial nature of the universe is that each good moment is super special.” She put her arm around Cheryl. “It’s all good, babe.”

  Pen returned moments later with her phone and snapped several pictures, including one of the group. “I’ll put this picture in my Moonie file,” Pen said, delighted. Sparky took one of Pen, Lexus and Cheryl. Pen looked so cute and happy and normal, it warmed Sparky’s heart.

  Jennifer strutted across the street. The fancy red sports car with the tinted windows screeched from the curb, hitting third gear within seconds.

  Jennifer smiled at them. “What’s with the litter?” she said, pointing at the swans.

  “They’re origami swans,” Pen said.

  Jennifer peered closer. “They are! How cute.” She poked one with her finger. It teetered, caught a wing and sunk. “Whoops.”

  They stared at her.

  “What time is dinner? I’m famished. Vibro told me, but sometimes it’s all just blah, blah, blah with us.”

  They all stared at her some more.

  Lexus broke the silence. “Seven thirty.”

  “Perfect. I’ll just have time to slip into something comfortable.” She smiled at Sparky and left.

  “You wouldn’t date someone like that, right?” Pen asked Sparky.

  Without hesitation, Sparky said, “Not if she was the last lesbian on the planet.”

  Cheryl and Lexus laughed. Pen looked relieved.

  “I wish we didn’t have to invite her,” Cheryl said, then recanted. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

  Lexus kissed Cheryl on the cheek. “Don’t worry. Phred will prove a more than adequate distraction for Jennifer.”

  “Fred?” Sparky said.

  “Fred with a ‘Ph,’” Lexus said.

  “What?” Sparky said.

  “P-h-r-e-d,” Cheryl said. “Don’t ask me why. I don’t understand lesbians.”

  Chapter Eight

  Fonduing it

  In an attempt to honor the white party theme, Sparky managed to find a clean white T-shirt and a pair of khaki chinos. She needed to retrieve more clothes, but that would require speaking to Wesson, which seemed likely to invite trouble. For
the present she was dodging Wesson’s calls and ignoring her voice mail if she left a message. She exited her apartment and heard muted voices on the stairs—something about paying a lot for something and wanting to show them off, followed by something about texting all day long, picking up dropped pencils and hoping for a promotion. Sparky reopened her apartment door and reclosed it more loudly and the muttering stopped. She counted to five and then started down the stairs. She joined Vibro and Jennifer at the door of Apartment No. 1. Pen opened it. She was dressed in a white suit. She looked positively urbane.

  “You’re perfectly darling,” Jennifer squealed. “Where did you get the little suit?”

  “Lexus had it. It was a midget’s,” Pen said.

  Lexus came up behind her and beamed. “We put on a play at the Community Center. It was a take on Bernard Shaw’s play Pygmalion. The midget took the place of the street girl. It was very affirming to the little people.”

  “You look very nice, Pen,” Vibro said, giving her a knuckle bump.

  “I’m not denigrating your personhood, Pen, but kids’ clothes are so fun. You can get away with anything—not like being a grown-up. We have to be so normal,” Lexus said.

  Sparky refrained from comment. There was nothing about Lexus that was normal. She was wearing what looked like a vintage wedding dress, complete with flowing train. Jennifer was wearing as little as possible—a tiny white dress the size of a postage stamp—and more of her breasts were out of the dress than in it. Vibro had on a ruffled white shirt that looked straight out of the swashbuckling era of Byron, along with camel-colored riding pants and tall dark boots.

  Cheryl, on the other hand, was dressed normally, like Sparky, in jeans and a T-shirt. She’d even gone so far as to violate the white code and wear a blue T-shirt.

  “I feel underdressed,” Sparky whispered to Cheryl on the way to the living room.

  “Wait until you meet Phred,” Cheryl said.

  “Why? Is she an underdresser as well?” Sparky asked.

  “No, but she makes the rest of the crew look like amateurs,” Cheryl said. “I refuse to engage in theatrical posturing, and if I were you I’d stand my ground on this. Otherwise you’ll be expected to dress up for every soiree.”