It’s break time at Widget Wonders and R and her friend Q have been soldering tirelessly
all morning. They are grateful to have a few minutes to grab a cup of coffee, check some
messages and maybe even exchange a few words. Non-essential interaction between employees is forbidden during the workday.
“R, honey, W and I are throwing a little get-together this Saturday and we were hoping
you could come,” Q suggests. R rolls her eyes. “You don’t have to bring anything. Just come and have a few drinks. It will be good for you to get out of your rut. You know, ever since you and H…”
“Broke up,” R finishes. “I don’t need to get out, and I’m not in a rut. I’m enjoying my
peace and quiet. Harold had brain damage and a terrible temper. You know, he told me his father smacked him upside the head every day from the time he was four and that’s why he has double vision and a drinking problem.”
Q speaks in unison with R from the word “father.”
“R, you got yourself attached to a natural-born sociopath, and now it’s time to move on.
Open your mind, for God’s sake,” Q says in a high-pitched voice that does nothing for her credibility.
“I’m not coming to your stupid party,” R pouts.
“It won’t be stupid, I promise. G will be there.”
“G? That guy you set me up on that blind date with who stood me up?”
“I told you he had a family emergency. G’s nephew broke his leg while his brother was
out of town, so he had to take little t to the emergency room.”
R sighs.
“If nothing else,” Q pleads, “you can play with W’s dog Barky. You know how much he
loves you.”
Barky is a rescue mutt with a sweet disposition and a smelly slobber. Not even Barky can have it all. A siren sounds and it is time for R and Q to strap back into their electrified seats and get to work.
At lunchtime, R decides she will go to the party after all.
“That’s great,” Q says as she chomps on her peanut butter and banana sandwich.
“You know I’m only coming because of Barky.”
“The point is that you’re getting out of your wood paneled hole in the wall with the leaky
windows.” Q’s vocal cords are choked with peanut butter.
Truth be told, on Saturday evening R is looking forward to the soiree with apprehensive
delight. Maybe she really needs to be more open-minded. Maybe she will meet G and they will hit it off. Or maybe Barky will lick her hand with his magic saliva and deliver her from the human condition.
R puts on her favorite tan jumpsuit with the little pastel polka dots, accented with pink
Converse hi-tops and her Hello Kitty tote bag.
R arrives at the party, and Q answers the door.
“R, honey, you look so cute! That’s such a good color for you. Let me get you a drink.”
“OK, I’ll have a black Russian.”
“Oh, sorry, dear. I don’t have any Kahlua. Would you settle for a screwdriver?”
“Sure,” R says, slightly disappointed.
R gets her drink and immediately stakes out a chair in the corner. Barky briefly says hello and slinks under the couch. She watches as people enter the room with hellos and hugs. Q kisses women on the cheek and W slaps men on the back. She feels like she is watching a movie about a party.
Q scampers over to where R is sitting. R has already guzzled two thirds of her drink.
“R, honey, come over here! There’s someone I want you to meet.”
Is it G?
“This is my cousin Renaldo. He just moved up here from Texas. We used to play together
all the time back in the day. Touch football, fishing for frogs, all that tomboy stuff.”
Renaldo is a short Latino fellow with a scant mustache. He smiles, showing a missing
tooth near the front.
“This is R, my friend from work.”
“Hello, Miss R, it’s nice to meet you,” Renaldo growls in a raspy tone.
Ugh.
“It’s nice to meet you, too.” R couldn’t care less.
Q’s boyfriend W comes over to say hi. W is a goofy ginger who looks a bit like Alfred E
Neumann from Mad Magazine. What, W worry? Not a chance.
“Hey R, what up?” W hollers enthusiastically, as if she might be hard of hearing. W has
been drinking since 5 pm, when he and Q were gathering the snacks and setting up extra chairs.
“Why don’t you come over to the dining room and get in on the Monopoly game? We’re just about to start.”
“Oh, no, thanks.” R hates board games. She is competitive in spite of herself, and a very
sore loser.
She looks over at the opposite corner of the room and recognizes someone. Is that Tristan the youth minister from her neighbor Susan’s church? No, it couldn’t be. R had met him at a church recruitment shindig a couple weeks ago where he offered her weed and tricked her into a surprise sermon in the parking lot.
R goes over to the makeshift bar and pours herself another screwdriver, this time with
just a splash of orange juice. Tristan catches her eye and makes his way toward her. She smiles awkwardly, wishing he would keep moving along. She feels trapped and wants to dive under the couch with Barky.
Tristan approaches with a smile. His snakelike head nods a bit in recognition and when
he opens his mouth, she can swear his tongue is slightly forked. He is wearing the same striped t-shirt he had on at the church shindig.
“Hi, R, is it?”
“Yeah, hi,” she answers with the blankest look she could conjure, pretending not to
remember him.
Q runs over. R hopes she is coming to the rescue.
“R, I see you’ve met Tristan,” Q gushes. R figures Q is probably on her fifth or sixth gin
and tonic by now. She is rather sloppy and her voice is higher and even more grating than usual, like a drunken Mickey Mouse.
“Can we go somewhere quiet?” Tristan suggests.
For what, a prayer service?
Q has a knowing twinkle in her eye and leads the two of them down to the basement, next to the washer and dryer.
“We are gathered here today…” Tristan says dramatically, and a joint appears in his hand.
He lights it and passes it to R. She sucks on the joint like a teat and holds her breath, slowly sighing out a stream of smoke. She passes it to Q, who takes a little puff, chokes a bit and giggles, and passes it back to Tristan. After a few hits, R is feeling relaxed. Between the weed and the vodka, her eyes are reduced to slits.
Q laughs hysterically at her own jokes and Tristan’s snaky head bobs back and forth in
approval, a smile stretching below his nostrils. Everything is moving slowly as R sips her drink.
She can hear the music upstairs as if it is being piped in from another planet.
“Let’s play spin the bottle,” Q squeaks.
“Who needs a bottle?” Tristan proclaims, grabbing Q and kissing her gently on the lips.
Q bursts out laughing and proceeds to shove her tongue down Tristan’s throat. She begins unbuttoning his khakis and discovers he isn’t wearing any underwear.
“Come on, R, honey, I need some help over here,” Q squeals.
R wanders over reluctantly and the basement door opens. It is W, and he doesn’t look
pleased.
“Am I interrupting something?” he shouts from halfway down the stairs as he sees Tristan with his pants down, Q on her knees, and R standing around looking guilty. W goes back upstairs.
“Don’t mind him,” Q says nonchalantly.
The door opens again and W bounds down the stairs. At this point, R feels like she is
watching a movie about a different kind of party. Is W going to open fire?
“How could you start without me?” W grins, slapping Tristan on the butt.
“Um, I think I have to go home,” R says slowly.
“Oh, come on, R, the fun’s just starting. Besides, we need two on a team,” insists Alfred
E Neumann as he strips his shirt and unbuckles his belt matter-of-factly, as though he is changing into pajamas.
“R, honey, you really should stay,” Q pleads while cradling Tristan’s privates in her hands
like a small bird.
“No, but thanks,” R says and goes upstairs to let herself out.
“Bye, Miss R,” Renaldo calls after her.
R waves at him and shuts the door behind her. Widget Wonders will never be the same.
Once again, G never showed.
