Pulpy and Midge (19 page)

Midge's laugh bounced across the room again.

‘It doesn't
sound
like a work thing,' she said.

He peered up at the underside of their table and saw that someone had carved a heart with two sets of initials into the wood. He thought that must've been a hard thing to do, carving upside down like that. Half of the heart was covered by a big wad of gum. ‘So, um, do you want to come over and introduce yourself to Midge?'

‘Are you kidding me? With them there?' The receptionist grabbed her purse. ‘I don't like to talk to them when I'm in the office, let alone on my own time. I'll see you later.'

‘Then could you just –' He looked down at his hands. ‘Could you please leave quietly, then?'

She glared across the room. ‘It's too late. They've seen me.'

Pulpy slumped sideways and pulled his knees up to his chest. ‘Oh, no.'

‘Don't worry about it. Just stay down there until I leave. Then you can crawl over and pretend we never did this.'

‘I think I'm drunk,' he said.

‘Well, that's your problem, isn't it?' And she walked away.

Pulpy sat there on the floor until he saw the door swing shut behind her, and then he looked at the bartender and jerked his head toward the restaurant.

The bartender gave him the thumbs-up.

He reached up to yank his coat off his chair, and then crab-walked over to the bar and eased himself onto a stool. Only then did he turn his bleary gaze to the low-lit depths of the restaurant.

The three of them were sitting together talking and not looking in his direction. Pulpy took a deep breath and called out, ‘Midge! Over here!'

They all turned their heads, and Midge smiled and waved.

He got off the stool and teetered, but steadied himself on the bar. Then he tottered across the room. ‘Hi, Midge. Hi, Dan. Hi, Beatrice.'

‘Hi Pulpy!' Midge's cheeks were bright pink. ‘Are you all right? You look a bit … not yourself.'

‘I got here early and had a few drinks at the bar,' he said. ‘I guess they caught up with me on an empty stomach, ha, ha!'

‘We just saw the secretary from our office,' said Beatrice. ‘She was in the bar too, did you know that?'

‘She was? Huh. Maybe I saw her. I can't remember.'

Midge giggled. ‘Her hair is so
bushy,
Pulpy!'

Beatrice gave Midge's upper arm a tweak. ‘Midge says you gave her the secretary's hairdresser's card!'

‘Oh, well, I –' Pulpy blinked. ‘That was just …'

‘We like Midge's hair just fine the way it is,' said Beatrice.

He reached for the edge of the table and held on. ‘So do I.'

‘Rolled right up to the canteen after work, eh?' said Dan. ‘That's my boy!'

‘It's not something I usually do,' said Pulpy in a fast voice. ‘But Midge was with her friend at our place, so I thought I'd leave them to it and get here early.'

‘We were drinking wine!' said Midge. ‘So I'm feeling a little bit not myself, myself!' She giggled some more.

Dan and Beatrice looked at each other across the table, and Dan grinned. ‘The drunker the merrier, I say. Looks like Beatrice and I are going to have to play catch-up!'

‘We didn't see you sitting at the bar earlier, Pulpy,' said Beatrice. She was wearing an outfit that stretched and glinted.

‘The stool I was sitting on was very low, maybe that's why.' He took his linen napkin out of his waterglass and placed it on his lap. It covered his thighs and draped over his knees, so that all he could see when he looked down was an expanse of white. Midge could skate on his lap, he thought.

‘And you didn't see the secretary.' Beatrice smoothed down her bangs. ‘Isn't that strange?'

‘Very strange indeed!' Dan laced his thick fingers together under his chin.

Midge frowned and picked up her menu, which had velvety tassels on it.

Pulpy stiffened and looked quickly between his boss and his wife. ‘So, Dan,' he said. ‘I've been giving this potluck issue some thought, and –'

Dan held up a hand. ‘There's plenty of time for that. But first, we are men of action, and men of action must eat!'

‘What about the women of action?' said Beatrice, and she winked at Midge.

Midge smiled. ‘I meant to tell you, Beatrice, if you ever want more wax information, or hostessing tips, or if you want a Candle-Brations order form, please let me know.'

Beatrice pursed her lips. ‘I just might do that,' she said. ‘Maybe Pulpy could let me flip through that catalogue you gave him for the office.'

‘He hasn't shown it to you yet?' Midge frowned at him.

He shook his head. ‘I've been meaning to, Midge, really. But the potluck –'

‘Potluck, botluck,' she said.

Dan lifted his napkin and waved it at a pinched-looking young man in a bow tie, who hurried over to their table.

‘Good evening,' said the waiter. ‘How may I help you?'

‘It is,' said Dan. ‘It
is
a good evening. Could you please, if you would be so kind, provide our table with a bottle of your house wine, which would be on par with the goodness of the evening?'

‘Will that be red or white, sir?'

‘“Red or white,” he says.' Dan looked at Pulpy. ‘Pulpy? What do you say?'

‘Red?' Pulpy looked at Midge, who was staring at the tablecloth. ‘Or white. They're both nice.'

Dan nodded. ‘You're right. You could not be righter. Bring us two bottles of each.'

‘Excellent choice, sir.' The waiter left.

‘This is nice, the presentation.' Midge took a bun from the bowl on the table. ‘Usually you see buns in baskets. Putting them in a bowl – they're still only buns but they look like nicer buns.'

‘Ho-ho, nicer buns are the way to go!' said Dan.

Beatrice did a little hop in her seat and grabbed Midge's wrist. ‘Don't you love this place?'

Midge flinched. ‘I've never been here before.'

Pulpy had the feeling he should say something. ‘We both like fish.'

‘They do an excellent red snapper here,' said Dan. ‘It's got lemon pepper. Lemon and pepper – together at last!'

‘No, he means live fish,' said Midge.

Pulpy looked across the table and smiled at her, then said to Dan, ‘But cooked fish can be nice too.'

Dan nodded and gave the cuffs of his blue blazer a tug. ‘I'm glad the secretary got rid of that fish she had on her desk. It was starting to stink up the office.'

Midge looked at him. ‘What fish?'

‘She had a fish,' Pulpy said quickly. ‘He died.'

‘She never asked permission to keep a fish there, either,' said Beatrice.

‘Where did she get her fish?' said Midge.

‘Her boyfriend.' Pulpy took a bun and ripped it in half. ‘He won him for her at the winter fair.'

‘That was nice of him,' said Beatrice. She looked hard at Dan. ‘You never won
me
anything at any fair.'

‘Giving someone a sick fish,' he said. ‘I don't call that nice in my books.'

‘He wasn't sick at first,' said Pulpy. ‘He was healthy in the beginning.' He plucked some crumbs off his side plate when he saw they were all looking at him. ‘She just never changed the water.'

‘What kind of a person doesn't change a fish's water?' said Dan. ‘She abused that fish.'

‘I think maybe it was because she never gets a chance to leave her desk,' said Pulpy. ‘She says she gets dehydrated.'

‘Then why bring the fish in the first place?' Dan straightened in his chair. ‘She should have kept it at home where she has easy access to a tap.'

‘Maybe she was trying to prove a point,' said Pulpy, and his eyes widened when he said it. He saw that Midge was looking back and forth between them, chewing. ‘Anyway, I was changing the water for her.'

‘Wait a minute now,' said Beatrice. ‘Didn't you tell me that was
your
fish, Pulpy?'

‘Pardon?' He coughed, and Midge handed him her ice water.

‘When I saw you in the hallway after it died.' Beatrice nodded, and pointed at him. ‘You were carrying it and I said was that the secretary's fish, and you said no it was yours.'

‘Pulpy keeps his fish on his desk,' said Midge. ‘Don't you, Pulpy?'

‘Really? I've never seen a fish on his desk. Maybe he keeps it in his drawer!' Beatrice licked butter from the corner of her mouth. ‘I think I'm going to order that snapper. All this fish talk is making me hungry.'

The waiter came back with their wine and positioned his corkscrew over the first bottle.

Pulpy cleared his throat. ‘Maybe you should ask Eduardo about my fish,' he said to Beatrice. ‘He sits next to me, and our desks are also very close to Dan's office.'

The cork on the first bottle popped, and the waiter started on the second.

‘So that was
you
!' she said, and turned to Dan. ‘See, I told you we heard somebody.'

Pulpy blinked at the gold buckles that joined Beatrice's sleeves to the neck of her elasticized top. ‘You and
Eduardo
heard somebody.'

‘Right.' Dan reached for the open bottle and poured himself a glass of red. ‘Her and Eduardo.' He took a swig and grinned at Pulpy. ‘I guess you figured I don't know what she gets up to, huh?'

Pop!
The waiter jammed the corkscrew into the top of the third bottle.
Pop
!

Beatrice reached for the open bottle of white and tilted it over her glass.

‘Pulpy,' said Midge, ‘what are they talking about?'

‘Have a drink with us, darling,' Beatrice said to her. ‘We'll all feel better.'

Pulpy reached for the second bottle of white and filled Midge's glass, then his. Then he took a gulp. ‘Midge, the receptionist wanted my fish so I gave it to her. Because I felt sorry for her, because she's all by herself out there. And I was here with her earlier too, but just for a friendly drink. Because she needed to be cheered up so I kept her company. She was going to introduce herself to you so there'd be no mystery, but then she saw Dan and Beatrice and she left.' He picked up his glass again with shaky hands.

Midge went pale and fumbled with her cutlery.

Pop
! The waiter stepped back and looked at the four full glasses. ‘So, is everyone all right here?'

Dan winked at him. ‘Give us five minutes.'

The waiter went away.

‘She needed to be cheered up because you won't let her go to her seminar,' Pulpy said to Dan. ‘All she wants to do is improve herself.'

Midge let out a small, sad sound and stood up.

‘Midge,' said Pulpy, ‘please don't be upset. It really wasn't anything.'

‘If it wasn't anything then why didn't you tell her in the first place?' said Beatrice.

‘Yes,' said Midge. ‘Why didn't you say that before?' She pulled her coat over her shoulders and pushed her chair back.

Pulpy saw that she was wearing her new clamdiggers. ‘I didn't want to hurt your feelings.'

‘Well, too late. And anyway, Dan and I had our
own
friendly drink, didn't we, Dan? We had our own friendly mojitos last Friday, after you went to bed.'

Pulpy pressed his rubbery-feeling hands together under the table. ‘You said you didn't remember anything.'

‘I don't,' she said. ‘But that doesn't mean nothing happened, now does it?'

Pulpy could hear his wife's boots, with her lovely bare calves overtop, make two small stomps as she moved away from the table. He looked away from her to the crumbs left in the bread bowl.

Midge started to cry. ‘You don't care about me and you don't care about my candles!'

‘How can you say that?' said Pulpy. ‘Of course I care!'

‘Then why didn't you show anyone the catalogue?'

‘Yes,' said Beatrice. ‘Why didn't you?'

‘It got wet.' He sighed a miserable sigh. ‘I dropped it on the bus and it got wet.'

‘That is
it
!' Midge was wailing now. ‘I'm going home!'

‘I'll go with you,' said Beatrice. ‘You shouldn't be alone right now.' She gathered up her coat and took Midge's arm.

Pulpy stood up but Midge waved him back down. ‘Stay here and have your
Social Committee
meeting. I don't want to interrupt any more of your important business!' And she ran out of the restaurant with Beatrice following close behind.

Dan dragged his chair closer to Pulpy's. ‘I guess it's just you and me and the rest of this wine, Pulpy. Boys' night!'

Pulpy tugged on the edge of the tablecloth. ‘What was Midge saying, Dan, about the mojitos?'

‘We had a few more drinks after you hit the hay, that's all. And we talked about candles – you know that. I told you that already.' Dan poured red into Pulpy's half-empty glass of white. ‘Oops, looks like you're drinking rosé now, ho-ho! Go ahead and finish that and we'll pour you a proper glass of red. That's a man's colour, none of this white for us, no sir! Until we finish the red that is, ha!'

Pulpy drank it down and felt woozy. ‘What did you mean about knowing … what Beatrice is up to?'

Dan leaned back. ‘It works for us.'

The waiter appeared again and looked at the two empty chairs.

‘It's just us boys now,' said Dan. ‘The hens have flown home to the coop. Bring us a couple of steaks, will you? Rare. And another bottle of house red.'

‘Actually, Dan,' said Pulpy, ‘I take my steak medium-well.'

‘Don't listen to him,' Dan said to the waiter. ‘I'm his boss, and he'll eat rare and like it.' He elbowed Pulpy. ‘Trust me on this one.'

‘Very good, sir.' The waiter left them.

‘So, like I was saying,' said Dan, ‘I let Beatrice have her own fun on the side because it turns her crank, and when her crank is turned she's a lot more agreeable, if you get my drift.' He refilled both of their glasses. ‘The thing is, it's not cheating if the other person knows about it.'