I can feel the world all around me inside this toilet bowl.
Again, I tightened my thumb and took my finger, fiddling for the thing at the back of my throat. Nothing came.
I pulled again, making my eyes well up. Jackpot. Finally, a rumbling came from my stomach, bursting, burning up my pipes, and spilling the bowl with new thickness. Luckily, none of it grazed my new jeans or the floor.
Vicky’s lovely marble floor.
I leaned over, hitting flush, and the mess disappeared. However, the smell stayed, and it stank terribly. I shivered, then crumpled away from the john. There can be no hangover at work tomorrow.
I wiped my lips, gathering myself - one satchel with nothing inside, one notebook–nothing inside, my keys on a carabiner for the scooter, my studio, my gym locker, the bar. After a quick glug, I unlocked the door, leaving the crime scene without a witness or evidence.
The wideness of the hallway was always surprising. Vicky could fit her Mini in there—maybe more.
Steaming out of the kitchen was the scent of roasted turkey along with Nat King Cole’s Unforgettable.
I told Vicky about that one. She didn’t know a thing about jazz.
It was misty inside. Vicky was bent over by the oven. Mac and Jade were up by the window, sharing a cigarette.
She leaped up, nudging her head under my chin, and asked softly, ‘Are you okay?’
‘You know you can fit your Mini in that hallway!’
She grinned, brandishing a new bottle of red from the table, and poured a glass.
‘Want some?’ she said, fluttering her eyes at me.
From the window, Jade - ‘Any clue when the bartender is coming?’
‘The mixologist!’ Mac said back, sprintzing over to Vicky. He put out his glass, and I gave him some.
He batted his eyes at me. And I glared at him. Not now, dumbass.
‘Hey baby, where's the grinder?’ Vicky whispered.
She did a great job on the turkey. She said she’d cured it in rosemary salt. I didn’t know there was something called rosemary salt. She lit the candles, set the table, and even made tiny hats that we all wore. Mine was green.
Jade was supposed to bring dessert, but she forgot. Mac’s potatoes were fine–nothing more.
I had another glass of vino before the bartender arrived.
After the buzzer, the bartender came in, clinking from her satchel,
‘Hi everyone, I’m Jennie!’. We waved at her.
‘Who wants a cocktail?’.
We cheered.
***
My brain was blinking. We were by the sofa listening to music from the ceiling speakers. As Jennie prepared the margaritas, Mac and Jade were talking politics, Vicky mediating.
Finally, Jade, ‘Let’s just agree to disagree.’
Mac grumbled, ‘Sure.’.
Jennie broke the silence, ‘It’s - cocktail o’clock!’ whipping around with a grin. She handed us the glasses,
‘ Okay, these have extracted nectar from an agave during a moonlight vigil. I mixed that with yuzu and organic kumquat essence. This is oakwood-smoked tequila. Look here.’ She pointed to her glass. ‘At the ice, I’ve used. It’s not just tap water; it’s sparkling–spring water. Have a sip, tell me what you think,’. Vicky held up her glass, ‘Cheers!’. We tinked them, making sure to look each other in the eye first.
I didn’t get it.
‘Wow, this is so good!’ Mac belted. Jade nodded, ‘Great touch on the yuzu.'
‘So fucking amazing, Jennie, wow,’ Vicky shook her head, doing that mhm-mhmm-mhmm thing. I hated the mhm-mhmm-mhmm thing.
I chirped, ‘Quite swell!’
Swell…swell? What the fuck does that mean?
‘So, how did you start as a…’ I turned to Mac, ‘...mixologist?’.
‘I’d been working at The Cleo for maybe two years now? You know it? It’s in Soho. I needed the money, so I thought OK cool let's try it. It’s not bad - like, I started as a bar-back which was fucked up. You have to carry all these crates and wash so much shit. But, yeah, no, I’m a mixologist now. You learn about a lot of nice cocktails and wine, and you get discounts and get to take stuff home. Two days ago, I got a Dom Pérignon - that was nice.’
‘The restaurant, you said it’s Michelin-starred, right?’ Vicky asked, eyes parsed.
Jennie nodded with an mm-hmm.
Jade quizzed, ‘How many?’.
Jennie raised a couple fingers, ‘Two,’.
Vicky pressed the glass to her lips.
‘Very nice,’ she pursed, tapping on the glass stem. We nodded in agreement.
Mac broke in, ‘I used to work in a bar, but it's so horny!’. His fingers slipped off the sill.
Jennie smirked, tilting her head. ‘I’ve done it with a few people here and there. It’s not appropriate, but-.’
Vicky cut her off sharply,‘-I thought you said you slept with your manager?’.
We all turned to her. Her legs crossed, eyebrows lowered, smile spreading across her face.
Jade muttered something.
Jennie forced her glass down, sounding off the table, ‘Dammit, Vicky, that was a secret.’
Vicky beamed, ‘Whoops!’ cradling her cup.
In turn, Jennie stood. She lifted the pitcher, pouring another glass.
‘He told me he loved me. I don’t know - I felt bad. …I don’t want to talk about it.’ Jade faced away. Mac hopped in,
‘My friend Stewart married his manager two months ago on the beach. It looked pretty.’.
***
I was counting in my head how long I could wait before doing the yawn and grabbing my jacket. Vicky would want me to stay, though. I could see her through the candles as she stared into space, which meant staring at me. Deep dark circles scored her eyes, barely covered by the foundation. Jennie was making another cocktail. The sound was making me thirsty. Mac was laid up on the rug, feet in the air, flipping through magazines, and Jade was having another cigarette by the window.
Out in the distance, the lights were glimmering.
It’d be nice to be outside.
From the floor, Mac, ‘Anyone got cash?’. Jade shook her head. Jennie didn’t reply.
I drew out my pockets. Comically, there was only some string and a piece of lint.
Vicky said, ‘I only have my card - what’s it for?’. He snorted with one finger over his nostril, ‘My guy said he’d be here soon.’ Jade shook her head, ‘I don’t want to go too hard before NYE.’ He breathed, ‘It’s just ket.’
‘What kind?’ Vicky probed. The good kind, from Ketty Keith.’, he answered.
He flung his arms out, ‘If no one’s got cash, I’ll cancel.’.
I glanced at Vicky, ‘How far’s the nearest ATM?’. Vicky pointed left, ‘There’s one a few mins from here.’
I grabbed my jacket from the sofa, ‘I’ll go,’ I said, putting on my gloves.
Vicky stumbled to get up, then started flimsying with her coat, ‘I’ll come with you.’
As we trudged through the snow, our breaths made small clouds that vanished in the smog. The pavement was plundered with gray sludge - I was making careful not to slip. Not in front of her. She was a few paces behind me in some fur boots she scored in a vintage store. They were utterly impractical. The wind sliced the air, forcing us to bend forward. I retreated to the inside of my scarf. Nobody else was here but us. I wonder where everyone is.
The ATM was inside a corner shop. As we entered, the guy gave us a nod and then carried on watching the TV in the ceiling. I didn’t understand what any of the actors were saying. I only noticed Vicky was drunk as I saw her tiptoe through the aisles. I forgot I was. ‘BOOB.’I muttered to myself, then plonked my code in—8008.
The cash machine piled some notes in my hand.
Outside, she began placing the stickers she bought on her face. A Hello Kitty one on her cheek, ‘Cute, right?’.
I smiled. She stopped.
She was under the street lamps, the glow encircling her forming a halo around the snow. She was quiet, only thing I could make out was the wind howling and her coat flapping and unfurling around her. She had balled up her hands to her chest, And was shivering.
‘Vicky…Vicky, what’s up?’.
She dropped her hands, and they fell flat to her sides.
‘You don’t love me.’
I choked.
‘Vic, don’t say that,’
‘Be honest–you don’t love me anymore.’
‘Vicky, you’re drunk. Stop it.’.
I knew the right words to say; they were ramming through my head at a million miles an hour, but my mouth didn’t form it. They would have had her running towards me with her arms outspread, ready to kiss me. But I couldn’t say it. And as fast as they scrambled in my head, they melted away. It was nothing. A single teardrop rolled down her cheek and splashed on the sidewalk.
‘Let’s talk later.’.
In the elevator, we stood on opposite ends. There wasn’t much left to say.
Jade opened the door, staring at us. Some stupid Duran Duran track was playing. Vicky excused herself to the toilet to wash her face, leaving Jade and me in the hallway. Mac was still on the floor, belly down, kicking his legs and flipping through an old Playboy. I flopped down on the Eames chair that took up the corner of the dining room. It smelled of the incense Vicky got on holiday. She bought tons of the stuff. I had to admit it smelled nice, especially with all the wood in the house. Up the wall, paintings were hung up, some abstract and some of the beach; they circled a much larger portrait, a painting of her and her dad. Vicky was sitting down, hands in her lap and cross-legged, and her dad stood above her, one hand with large silver rings over her shoulder. When she and I first did it in the living room, it felt like he was staring at me. What would he do?
The floorboards arranged in herringbone, the Le Corbusier coffee table, stacked with leather-bound books and old copies of Vogue and The Times, the purple velvet sofa, and the Victorian school chairs - all “collected,” as Vicky says, to create warmth. I admit I could miss it. This was the good stuff, not the laminate crap I’m used to.
Without a glance up from his magazine, Mac asked, ‘You get the cash?’.
‘Yep,’ I said. He got up and took it from me, seeing I wasn’t gonna get up from my chair, letting his finger linger then disappear in my palm in the exchange.
I fell back to the chair and began to wander off, watching the buildings twinkle.
The candles had shrunken, leaving small flames dancing off the ceiling.
Before I could, Vicky came in, turning on a lamp. She brought out more candles and a pack of cards from the table, ‘Come round, let’s play.’ She looked to my corner and beckoned me too.
Then, I was on my knees shuffling the deck, during which Jade complimented my ability.
‘I was a magician at school, a real good one too.’ Vicky rolled her eyes.
I showed them the deck. ‘Hey Jade, pick a card.’ ‘Okay, now put it back.’
I reached behind her ear and flicked it before her face, ‘Six of spades!’.
She laughed. Easy. Vicky wasn’t looking. Does she care? Did she even care about my magic tricks?
I reshuffled.
Jade won the first round.
Jennie started the next, ‘Vicky, you know I haven’t played Snap since dorms.’
I played the next card after Jade, ‘You guys went to school together?’.
Vicky submitted a card, ‘Yeah, that’s how we met. We both studied fashion-’
Mac put in his turn, ‘Were you good?’.
She answered, ‘Jennie - your lace dresses were so cute. You always liked bows, right?
They’d have done well at some indie showrooms.’
Jennie blushed, ‘Oh gee, thanks, they weren’t anything. It’s hard to get funding. But you, I mean, you must be so happy, I mean…’. She waved her hands, ‘...With all this.’
Vicky smiled then turned away, dropping one in the stack.
I tried slamming my card down each time, but I was too slow.
‘Snap!’'Motherfucker!'
Mac won the second round.
Later, Jennie went around with a tray of whiskey sours. I declined.
Vicky snatched one, asking suddenly: ‘You ever think of the clown?'.
Jennie paused and put her hand on her chest, ‘I-was-just-thinking-about-them.’
Mac sat up, ‘Who?’. Jade huddled in close.
Vicky beckoned to Jennie, ‘You should tell them the story, the one when you were coming back from class.’
Jennie sat, grabbing a cigarette off the table, ‘Mind if I smoke here?’.
Vicky shrugged, ‘Mi casa, su casa.’ Jade offered her a light.
Jennie bent down, moving her face close to the flame, took a drag, then exhaled.
‘The first time I saw the clown, my parents had just fucked off and left me at my dorms with all my stuff. So I came down to the kitchen just to get a drink, and there they were with the long shoes, striped socks, suspenders, and a big red nose.’, she guffawed. ‘But they were sobbing, and their makeup was running, making these dark streaks down their face.’ She pulled her fingers down the ends of her lips. ‘I was kinda scared at first. Is this a joke? So I ask - hey, is everything alright? And they start miming! I realize my roommate is a fucking mime clown, man!’ Mac roared, laughing. ‘And, I start to think - this has to be a prank or something, right? But no, it was just us in the kitchen. They had just split up with someone.’ Jennie made a broken heart with her fingers. ‘I didn’t understand the rest, so they threw their hands up and left, slamming the door in my face. So rude!’
Vicky cut in, ‘But, what about the time when you were coming home?’.
Jennie paused, then another drag, ‘I was coming home one night. I was closing up the restaurant. It was a bad shift. Like, really, really bad. Vicky, I wished you left the key like I asked you to,’
Vicky clocked a strong look at Jennie, who was staring outside. ‘I was stranded outside, trying to enter the house, but the door was locked. So I ended up crawling through the window from the street.’
‘Funny enough, there was actually someone inside - the clown, who saw me, jumped, and then grabbed one of their baseball bat props, which was a real baseball bat, to hit me across the head. And I got knocked out on the floor.’. Vicky took a sharp breath.
‘When I woke up, I was in their room. They were very, very quiet. And they were topless. And my head was in a towel; everything was kinda spinning. It’d been months since we moved in, and I had never seen the inside of their room before. The walls were covered in all these crazy patterns—polka dots, zig-zags, stripes. And so many dolls were on the bed that they piled up high on the wall. I was freaked out but also kinda at ease, you know?
They spoke for a bit, but they didn’t say much.’
Jennie took another drag from her cigarette, surveying the room.
The candles were in their dying breaths. Our final shadows.
Vicky was staring into space. Mac was yawning. Jade rolled another one. I had the hiccups.
'So, about the clown…'.
Jennie hesitated, exhaling a plume of smoke.
And then, with a sigh, she finished.
‘They only said a few things - that they weren’t from around here. They weren’t doing so well. That it was hard to perform in the city. And, as they spoke, all I could remember thinking was -
If you didn’t want to be in the city, why did you come here in the first place?’