Loretta and Lizzie

"Oh Loretta, it's marvelous, isn't it?"
"It is Lizzie, it most definitely is."
"Do you think mother will like it?"
"Oh no, it's not her thing at all."
"Fabulous. I was hoping you'd say that."

As Lizzie purchased the gaudy coat that her mother would most certainly not approve of, Loretta looked at the garish baubles that were also for sale.

The coat paid for, the two walked out into the rain; Loretta hummed "Moon River" while Lizzie skipped in and out of the puddles.

"Lizzie, what should we have for a snack d'ya think?"
"I want cheese and crackers."
"Can you make me some too?"
"Yep."

The two girls had lived together for 4 months now, in a loft above a convenience store (really, living above the store was the height of convenience. Loretta and Elizabeth were sisters; they had just moved to Montreal in the fall and were thoroughly enjoying themselves, despite the fact that schoolwork tried to distract them from their earthly pleasures.

Loretta was seeing a young chap called David, and although he really wasn't the sort of guy she saw herself settling down with, he was taller than her and had a penchant for buying her flowers - two qualities that made Loretta incapable of dismissing him. Lizzie thought the whole situation silly, but of course, she wasn't seeing anyone herself so maybe it was just jealousy or not understanding.

Once at the loft the girls peeled off their raincoats and Lizzie began assembling two plates with sliced marble cheddar and triscuits.

"Lorrie", (Lizzie's nickname for Loretta), "have you seen the latest episode of How I Met Your Mother? It's frightfully good."
"Let's watch it then."
"But I've already seen it!"
"I know you want to watch it again."

The girls wedged themselves onto their couch with blankets, pillows, and nibblies and commenced watching the sitcom.

"Can you sit on my feet?" Loretta asked her sister.
"Are they really cold?"
"Yeah."

And so Lizzie let her sister stick her icy toes underneath her thigh, and they watched the rest of the show in relative silence.

The next day, David stirred things up a little.

You see, David had quietly been working himself up into a frenzy. As a lacadasical Catholic, David had somehow managed to saddle himself with large amounts of guilt for having committed a dreadful sin: pre-marital copulation. He had wracked his brain for a way to remedy the situation, and the only solution he could think of was marriage; as though a wedding could be the big eraser that wipes out this blot from his record. Pre-marital sex would be ok if you actually intended to marry the girl, right? David had it all figured out.

Unfortunately, Loretta didn't feel the same way.

"You want me to WHAT?" Loretta expostulated.
"I... well... I thought we could get married. I mean to say, Loretta you're the one for me; will you marry me?"

He lost it when she laughed at him. Whatever careful fabrication of facts that had kept David's life together like a carefully balanced house made out of creamers and stir sticks, was quickly undone by Loretta's decision to condemn him. That was how he saw it - not that he was deprived an eternity with the woman that he loved, no. He was concerned that this sin - one he didn't even really mean to commit - would stain his permanent record forever, and God might not understand how truly silly women could be. (Although, he did create them, so maybe he knew better than anyone the depths of their follitude?) David sat there, feeling very silly, and began stewing in a marinade of self-pity.

Loretta couldn't believe her ears, and Lizzie was stifling giggles into a hand towel in the kitchen.

David stormed out soon after that. Humiliation is often best-suffered alone.


----

Lizzie was completing a Master's degree in English Literature. Being a well educated girl, the idea of marriage left a bad taste in her mouth. She didn't relish the idea of being sold off as a possession, handed off from her father to her husband. She did however have an elaborate plan for elopement, even down to the taxi company she would call to take her to city hall. But she had always known that David wasn't the "one" - he was a little too straight-laced, a little too rigid, as though he had once read that good posture was important and had from that moment never let up. His spine was always perfectly vertical.

"You didn't see it coming? Not at all?" Lizzie asked after the fit of laughter had subsided.

"Nope. I mean, I probably should've, but I hadn't been thinking about it, so."

"Ha HA! Well, too bad for him." Lizzie had sprawled out on the couch. She was flipping through Cosmo magazine while dipping a spoon first into the smooth peanut butter, and then into a bag of chocolate chips. She ate the chocolate and peanut butter off the spoon like a ___.

The phone rang. Loretta answered.

That stupid fool, David, had asked Loretta's father's permission for her hand in marriage. Now, more than ever Loretta questioned her decision to ever get involved with that guy. He didn't know her at all - and now she had her mother screaming in her ear, tittering away about how she was twenty-three, and did she think that such opportunities came around ever day? Loretta knew. Her mother went on in that way until Loretta finally said she would have to call her back; there was something burning in the oven. It was partially true. The situation had certain gone out of the frying pan and into the fire.

To deal with the strange events of the day, the girls decided to go dancing. They called up some friends, but only Sarah was willing to go dancing on a Sunday night. Most of them had work the next day, but Sarah was an artist that kept her own hours.

[more about Sarah]

Loretta could attract men quite easily when she tried. But trying involved make-up, tight clothing, and the figurative or literal batting of lashes. After a few years of those shenanigans, she had abandoned such false demonstrations of "self". (A little education is a dangerous thing, especially for a woman. Loretta had gotten notions of self-worth that stemmed from things other than appearance, and much to the chagrin of the materialistic culture surrounding her, she had pretty much stopped with make-up after that.)

But although Loretta preferred her eyes to shine with the light of intelligence rather than Loreal's bikini bronze shimmer shadow, she also liked to look good for herself. She figured that was acceptable. And so after a swoop of black eyeliner above her lower lashes (yes, it would probably make her blind one day, but we all have our vices) and a touch of lip gloss, she was ready to go. In her tight black dress she didn't look half bad.

Lizzie was a lot more awe-inspiring. Unlike Loretta, Lizzie looked amazing with make-up or without. In fact, she had mastered the art of highlighting her natural beauty, rather than covering it up with creams and various face-paint. She looked phenominal with dewy skin, rosy cheeks, and eyes that simply popped. She wore a pretty hot pink dress, which could be understated on anyone else but on Lizzie it was divine. Neither girl wore heels - the footwear was torture for dancing, and they were both so tall it was really quite unnecessary.

Lizzie had never had a boyfriend. She was simply too stunning; boys were completely intimidated, and more often than not assumed she already had a boyfriend - a gorgeous girl like that would have to, wouldn't she? It didn't particularly bother Lizzie (yet) because her life was full already, and it was ludacris to imagine factoring a guy into it. Men were needier than dogs, and Lizzie had her own pursuits to think of.

-------

young - having to movie, notes, letters etc.
- older, still friends, they meet Sarah.

Michael Cormick

I was desperately unhappy. So, rather than offing myself and ridding the world of my miserable existence, I set out to get rid of all my money. I decided to test the theory, that money can't buy happiness.

I was pretty sure it could.

To be continued.

Like Pregnant Pause

The silence, need not be filled
An empty cup is full of air

Your smile makes me delirious
My heart is now aware

That it too, once was empty
You fill it with a grin

The story that was ending
Knows now how to begin.

Brains

It was quite different. In the bath my brain would melt, but it didn't slip out my ears like it did in class. In the bath, it was like custard; warm and soon to be cooling, but at the moment just sweetly warm inside its bowl. At school my brain melted not from temperature, but from boredom, and it would run out of my ears like cream soup and drip onto the floor until my head was emptier than when I had first sat down.

Sometimes I enjoyed the emptiness. With my brain matter pooling on the floor, I was free to let thoughts enter my head, rather than having to make them up myself. I'd find myself thinking about haircuts, and who in the room used the best shampoo. Or else lies, and whether or not they were good or bad. Flowers; was picking them wrong? Sometimes songs would enter the space between my ears, and I would soothe myself with Henry Mancini classics.

From time to time the present would snap back into focus, and with the remnants of my brain that had not yet liquefied, I would realize I was being taught. I was being informed of things that I cared not for, I was being told facts and details that had nothing to do with things that matter. Would algebra help me to determine right from wrong? Would numerical dexterity make me better as a person? Fortunately, "Moon River" started playing in my head and I was spared the inanity of having to answer these questions.

One has to be careful, though. If you're not careful, the songs or the absence of brain can lull you into a deep sub-conscious state. It's important not to be conspicuous, and while sub-conscious the brain can start leaking out of the mouth, which because rather obvious.

I usually take a short jaunt to the bathroom. Not because I need to rid my body of impurities - I need the walk. It slows the de-braining process. "I have to go to the bathroom" is not a lie - it's simply misleading. Once in the bathroom I try very hard not to touch anything; I know that the place is completely rife with dirty and dangerous bacteria - but it's still the safest place to go. I count to thirty, then use both of my pinkies to open the door. Returning to class feels like a death march. Slow, plodding. Full of what would be dread if I weren't so accepting of it.

The bath though. Sitting in a hot stew of my own filth. It's a great way to stay warm. I take off my glasses in order to spare myself the intolerable sight of dust floating in the water. I once bathed in my clothes, because nakedness is so awful, but if you've ever worn wet jeans you'll know that it didn't work out very well. So now I always bathe naked. Sometimes I slip down into the water, my nose still above water, and I pretend that I'm safe in this little cocoon. I love how something clear and permeable can feel so... so enveloping. Talk about a false sense of security. My custard-brain filled with delicious thoughts.

What am I doing

Some is good, and some is bad.
These are the days that I have had.

And so you say that you like me,
But you are blind, and I can see.