The look

I got a pitbull. Purebread (sic). His name is Hamlet. He's the hambassador of Hamsterdam. He's Hamsome and Hamdy. He's an hambitious puppy, yes he is. He single hamdedly hamdled the ham hambargo of South Hamerica. We sit outside the Wild Goose bar and gril, I with a cigar, he with a stick in his mouth. As I landscape, he digs holes. For some reason folks just don't fuck with us much.

Omlets, TV and Agony

Omelets, TV and Agony


Ericka could feel herself sweat on the car seat beneath her. Mike talked, sometimes to her, sometimes on a cell phone and sometimes swore at inanimate objects such as signs, the fuel gauge or . Ericka looked down at her body. She folded her hands as if it were natural, then unfolded them. She smirked at herself, then assumed a solemn facial expression, either thoughtful or allergic.
Someone hollered at the car, causing Ericka to jump. Mike swore at them. She strained her neck back to try to see who made the noise, but outside the night was a blur of neon and silhouettes. They had smoked pot earlier from a new glass pipe Mike had bought and it had left her feeling agitated and awkward, even more so than usual. Mike put his hand on her inner thigh after shifting gears. This too made her jump. She felt her leg sweat under his hot hand.
Mile swerved suddenly into the yard of a small house. He bounded out in a swift motion. Ericka paused, then looked around his car for things she may had left behind, which was nothing as she came with nothing. As she exited the car she noticed Mike turn quickly around and notice her slowness with annoyance. She hurried.
The house was bright and throbbing with music. People greeted Mike and her, though she couldn’t recognize anyone. She forced a smile. Mike disappeared, and Ericka stood for a second, her hands behind her back. She pretended to be interested in near by family photos. As she knelt to examine one, she felt a sudden coldness on skin of her exposed back above her belt, causing her to jump. Mike was rolling a cold wine cooler on the skin. Before she could thank him, he disappeared. She fumbled with the foil warping protecting the cap, opened it and drank. It was sweet. She looked around the room at the couples occupied in conversation, then nervously drank again. Some one said something familiar and she perked her brow and turned, then realized the stranger was referring to another stranger. Ericka drank again.
Casually Ericka made her way to what she thought was the kitchen, from where Mike appeared last time she saw him. He wasn’t there, but out the back window, she heard people speaking out side, excitedly. Trying to look busy, she took another drink, then realized her bottle was empty. She looked around for an indication as to what she ought do with her empty, but saw no response. Boldly, she opened the fridge and saw more wine coolers, and took one. She opened it quickly and drank from it. The bottle made her feel less like an idiot standing wordlessly standing in a room of strangers.
Maybe she knew some of them, from school. Or really knew of them. Mike’s friends, or people from their high school. Maybe they recognized her, but she knew their type, even if they knew her they wouldn’t acknowledge her for some high school reason. She leaned against the sink and drank, then heard her name out side.
Squinting into the black she could discern cigarette buts rising to mouths, but little more. She heard her name again. She leaned closer towards the glass. The hand supporting her weight slipped on the porcelain of the sink and she make a violent jerk to catch herself. She wasn’t sure but she thought she heard laughing outside, so she finished her drink, then got another.

She gave up, and looked down the dark hall way back towards the living room the couple occupied. She felt so damn stupid standing there. Mike could find a place to pee, for gods sake. She’d just have to ask him. So she went back towards the kitchen.
In the kitchen, they seemed to know her. A girl said ‘hi,’ and Erika faked a smile.
“Where’s Mike?” Ericka asked.
“He must be out there,” the girl said, pointing out the window over the sink, brimming with dishes she had slipped on earlier. Erika nodded and walked out the back door, but found no where to step after putting one foot out. She fell. The transition from the light of the kitchen blinded her and she groped for something to leverage her self on.
“Woah,” said a voice. “The dog shits everywhere out here.”
“I’m okay,” Erika said, embarrassed as she stood, brushing herself off. She looked blindly into the back yard. She could see the reflections on beer cans, but not faces, until someone lit a zippo lighter. From it’s light she saw Mike. As she approached him she heard the conversation he was having.
“How much more? Shit. Fucking A. The wars over. I don’t give a shit. There’s fuck all here. You gonna marry her? Fuck it. I mean damn. More money and I think I am any ways.”
Erika reached mike and put her hands around his arm. He took her and guided her in front of him and put his arms over her shoulders. He smelled like summer sweat. His hands bounced against her bladder which reminded her why she sought him out and she was about to say something when Mike spoke.
“Fuck it. Everybody, shut the fuck up.” He staggered slightly. “I’m serious. I want you all to listen to me. Me and Jake and Nate and Danny and Andrew are leaving soon, but I want to do something before I go. I love this bitch. I love this bitch. I want you all to know that. No, she aint a bitch anymore, she’s my woman. And she’s sticken it out here in fucked up little Medford. Man, I don’t know how to be articulate and shit, but damn it...” Mike turned Erika so she’d face him, “Erika, baby, will you marry me?”
Erika was terrified, everyone looking at her, “Yes.”
Everyone cheered in the blackness of the back yard as Mike grabbed Erika and kissed her hard. He tasted like beer and pot. He hadn’t shaved that morning. In one swoop, he picked her up, jarring her bladder. Every one continued to cheer as he carried her into the house. She cleared off some dishes from the counter with her foot in the kitchen, and there was an awkward moment as Mike stopped at the fridge to get some beer. She clung to his neck while Mike with his free hand put two cans and two wine coolers on her belly. He took her down the hall, kicked open the door to the dark room and dumped her on the bed. While looking at her, he drank a beer in one pull.
Erika was flushed. The excitement of the last few minutes made her forget about peeing. Mike crawled up the length of her body, dragging his face along her inner thighs, over her tummy, through her breasts then to her face. “I mean it,” he said, inches from her face. “I’m going to marry you.” Erika grinned. He kept his face right there for a long time, then crawled back down her body, stopping at her feet.
“I’m gonna make these feet mine,” he said, slurring a little, taking off her shoes, stalled briefly by the double knots. Erika wiggled her toes to make sure they were attached. “Oh, my favorite bit, but we’ll get to that later,” he said, reaching up to unbutton her jeans, wrestling them off. Ericka lifted her middle to accommodate their removal. “Cause I love these scared knees,” Mike said, kissing them. “And this bit here, I could fry this and eat it,” he said biting her inner thighs. “And god damn am I gonna miss this here,” he said his eyes right in front of her panties. Erika tensed up a little, remembering her desire to pee. Mike stayed there, silent for a while. Then someone yelled from the back yard. Mike yelled a retort with out moving his face, “Get yer own!”
He then moved the fabric covering her vagina to the side and kissed it lightly. “God damn I’m gonna miss you. You don’t say much, but you sure smell nice.” Ericka squirmed a little and rose to her elbows. “Will you excuse us?” Mike said to her, then buried his face in her vagina. Ericka felt the desire to release, but knew she couldn’t. She told herself she could hold it, like riding on the Interstate to Portland, between rest stops, she could old it along time. She could never muster the courage to be the one who asks to stop the car so she can pee, have everyone watch her from the car as she runs into the bathroom.
“Damn this foreplay stuff, I just can’t tonight. Maybe the second time,” Mike said as he yanked her underwear off, then pulled down his own pants. “Army of one,” he said, looking down at his erect penis. He then flopped on top of her, painfully rattling her bladder. Again he was on top of her, his eyes inches from hers. With one hand, he inched his penis in. Erika became rigid. “Woah, baby, you never liked it this much before.” She forced a laugh. He slid all the way in and his eyes lost all focus. Ericka saw all white. She knew she could get to the bathroom quicker if she made him come, so she opened her legs wide. She had to remember to breathe the pain was so bad. His penis seemed to be beating the hell out of her bladder. Like driving in the car with a full bladder, Ericka tried to remember things.
The house she grew up in had an old pick up truck in the garage. The garage leaned to one side and was full of empty glass bottles. The truck hadn’t run for years, but she liked to get in it and pretend she was driving when she was young. It smelled like cat pee. Pee. She used to hide food in there. When she was in middle school a Mexican girl whose name she had forgotten and her would spend hours in the cab talking about how they fix the truck up. They smoked the girls father’s cigarettes in there until Ericka’s mom found the buts in the ash tray. Then her mom would point out how ugly and wrinkled the people were who were smoking when they were on the town doing errands.
Mike came like a big truck stopping in gear. He lurched and snorted and bit her on the neck. “My fucking god that was good. It’s OK. All of it. It really is.”
Ericka squirmed and his penis fell out. Not to be rude she reached down and grabbed it, but mike was already asleep, his penis quickly loosing blood. She squirmed out from under him, groped for her jeans and went out looking for the bathroom.
With out fear this time she flung open every door in the hallway till she found the bathroom. When she sat on the toilet, the urine didn’t come, and for a moment she thought she may have been wounded. But then it did come out in a torrent. Mike’s semen obscured the flow and urine shot out onto the floor and her clothes, but she didn’t stop.
When she was empty, she sat for a moment as a dull pain in her abdomen rose. Even though, she felt immensely relieved. Looking down at the bite marks and urine on her inner thighs, she remembered she was engaged, and it filled her with a giddy feeling. She wrapped a towel around her mid section, leaving her pants where they lay and proudly walked into the living room.
“How was it?” someone she didn’t know asked.
“I need a drink and a cigarette,” she said and a howl rose up from the kitchen and all over the house.

Someone brought her a glass pipe and a beer and she answered questions about Mike from strangers as she slowly got messed up. She felt the dull pain in her abdomen subside as she drank.
“How long have you two been together?” a girl leered in. “Not as long as they’ll be together,” some one answered.
Ericka felt her insecure thoughts melt, which made her feel strong. But soon she realized she couldn’t speak without slurring. She uncrossed her legs and leaned against who ever was sitting next to her. She tugged at her hoddie, chewing on the strings. It was Mike’s hoodie. “Where the fuck am I,” she suddenly said, jarring the room out of a chain of thought and then making them laugh.
“She’s about to fall the fuck out,” somebody said.
“Fuck you,” she said, then thought. “Fuck me. Fuck everything,” then she giggled.
“Come on honey, lets put you to bed.”
“Put her in the honey moon suite.”
A hand curled around hers. “Leave me alone,” she said.
“Shh, it’s okay,” a girl said, who she did not know.
“Who the fell are you,” Ericka said, then realized she’d combined the words ‘fuck ‘ and hell and laughed.
The girl helped her get up and took her down the hall, which seemed to be moving. “This is a mobile home,” Ericka said, getting her own joke and laughing. “Wait.”
“What?” The strange woman asked.
“I have to go potty,” Ericka didn’t need help walking now as she bounded towards the bathroom, just making the toilet in time to release a psychedelic explosion of vomit. The stranger held her hair. That was about all she remembered.


Court TV was on. Somebody was screaming at somebody. Ericka drifted in and out of consciousness. It was hot, and getting hotter. It was a kind of balancing act. Either she turned on the air conditioner or TV. The circuit would not allow both at once. She could be cool and insanely bored, or hot and lethargic. By noting which court TV program it was, she could determine the time and bargain with herself. Two more hours she would go to the store. Or she could write off the day to heat and sleep. Maybe do something at night. There were things to be done. But none of them immediate. There was always shopping, the DMV laundry and dishes. Hell she could get a job, make a friend and or clean. She was embarrassed to realize she couldn’t remember if she had bathed the night before.
The phone rang. It was a cheap unit from Wal-Mart Mike’s brother had bought. It had a digital answering machine. Mikes voice picked up. “Yo, I’m not here, I out after some terrorists. I think Ericka’s here.. Ericka! Just leave a message.” The caller hung up. But the phone call made her feel guilty and she reluctantly rose.
She considered a trip to the bathroom to make herself up, but since she didn’t know where she was going, she grabbed her ID, a twenty and just walked out the door. The heat was bad in the apartment, but it was terrible on the porch. It made her wince and regret her decision to leave at all.
On the street, she began to sweat. Cars passed, windows rolled up, passengers entombed in their A/C’s. She had the vague notion she would sweat off some weight, so she picked up her pace. Just ten blocks away was Fred Meyer, the all in one mega market. It’s climate controlled expanse seemed the only destination she could bear. Walking down the road she was vaguely self conscious that someone passing would recognize her and notice her growing pit stains.
She hadn’t walked or driven the main road for some time. In fact the preceding months after Mike’s departure to Iraq had been a drowsy daydream of TV and marijuana. But she had sworn off pot after being called fat by a child at the mall. She stood naked in front of the mirror for sometime that night feeling bad about her excess. There was just absolutely nothing to do in Mike’s absence. She didn’t want to work, or rather she knew she’d screw it up. Really, she’d found a niche hiding all day in their studio apartment. The money Mike sent covered the minimum bills, and although she wasn’t particularly content, she couldn’t imagine what she could be doing otherwise. At first she lived through Mike’s phone calls. He’s description of riffle training, exercises, airports and states she’d never seen, but after his deployment, the stories took an unreal edge like TV, and all the talk of soldiering seemed foreign. Which made her feel bad when he tearfully confessed his love and longing for her body, the body she felt like she was destroying.
Her T-shirt was black, which was a mistake. The sun baked on her back. Her front was bathed in sweat. The road joined with the highway half way to the store. On the bank sign the temperature read 98. Feeling a little light headed she realized half way across a street she didn’t have the light and had to dash across. On reaching the other side she became very tired and woozy. But she staggered on.
Talking dirty on the phone was strange. Mike described his body being leaner after training. He’d ask her about hers and she couldn’t respond. He said the desert was hot and dry and everyone complained, but that he was made of harder stuff after growing up in Medford summers. He knew what a dry heat was. He said he missed those hot afternoons that seemed to go on for ever when they’d drive around desperate for something to do.
Ericka sat down on a curb. She wasn’t feeling well. Looking up the road the heat rose from the pavement. She could smell the gas from the cars. She put her head in her arms and closed her eyes. But the sun was too hot on her back and in a fit of resolve she stood. This was a mistake and she lost the blood flow to her head and she was quickly down again. Now she felt really dumb. She stood up very slowly, a little panicked this time and walked into the shade of a mortuary awning. There she sat and closed her eyes, wishing someone she knew would stop and pick her up, no mater how bad she smelled. Even for someone to come out of the mortuary and ask if she was all right. She began to cry. Constantly terrified people are judging her, it was ironic that when she was in peril, no one was actualy looking. Or was she in peril?
After training Mike came home and got them an apartment and they got married at his parents church. It was an old woden building close to the down town. Her mother was stoic and only briefly made an appearance at the reception. Ericka had trouble reading her mood, but she always had. It was Mike’s mother who doted on her, adjusting the dress and telling her how beautiful she was. The ceremony was nice, the preacher an old man with liver spots and a tremor. The alter was adorned with plastic flowers and Mikes friends who had enlisted with him were the witnesses. The mob of people alienated her slightly, as she had no idea how to fit into such a mob of people, although every agreed she was lovely and the two of them were very lucky. A parade of men from Mike’s past kissed her hand and made vague drunken lewd allusions to their pending wedding night.
In the days following the wedding, Mike’s family lavished gifts on them and she and him made love constantly. The honeymoon was in a nice hotel on the Rouge river with a Jacuzzi Ericka slept lightly and spent the hours awake before Mike arose feeding the loud rude swans in the adjoining park. Spring ended and the date of Mike’s departure approached. Mike did sit ups and pull ups in their apartment filling it with the smell of sweat, which comforted Ericka somehow. Without warning, she began to cry one evening, three days before he left. She couldn’t speak, just weep. She couldn’t stop. She remember leaning over the sink and looking out into the parking lot in the back and crying. The cars in even rows, and in spaces where cars were absent were large black pools of oil. Mike tried everything from yelling to coddling her but she couldn’t stop crying until he made her drink a shot of tequila. That made her sleep. Mike lingered in bed with her, his hard body trying not to fidget until he heard his cell phone vibrate on the kitchen counter. He quietly made his way out the door and came home hours later stinking of beer.
So she stood and kept walking in the heat. If she were wearing a bra, she’d of taken off her shirt, but she’d not thought through her outing which was evident by the sweat pouring out of her armpits. Again she felt dumb for not even being able to go to the store without crying. When she was finally in the parking lot of the store, she ran. It was a big parking lot, but she couldn’t take the heat anymore. When she finally burst through the automatic sliding doors and felt the cold air on her wet shirt, she felt exhilarated. The store was almost black by comparison of the bright day. She stood on the other side of the door for a time, licking the sweat off her upper lip, arms lifted slightly to alow for ventilation.
One of hers and Mike’s great joys was shopping. Usualy drunk they flew around the isles, throwing items at each other, singing and getting weird looks from the clerks. It was one of the few times Ericka felt outgoing or allowed to be loud and obnoxious. Something about how the white florescent light and the solemn consumers made for aggravating mood that made them want to have fun. They had been reprimanded by a graying man in a apron for when Mike would lift her into the cart and barrel around with her in it. He’d lift her by just putting his hands under her arms, which made her feel like a small child. Today her arms were sweaty and disgusting.
In her pocket she had her fake ID and a twenty dollar bill. She hadn’t really eaten that day, but was more interested in buying a large cheap bottle of white wine. But she feared the check-out line where her degraded social skills would be obvious. And then walking home with the giant bottle too would prove a challenge. She wished she could curl up in the bedding isle and not leave until the sun went down. Also she longed to be home where she could shower. She decided to get her wine and leave, so she walked to the refrigerated isle where she knew they kept large bottles of cheap white wine.
At the beginning of this isle there was ice-cream, which made her pause. She opened the freezer door and the air rushed up her shirt sleeves and cooled her body, giving her goose bumps. She felt vulgar having such a sensual experience in a public place without Mike there to condone it or provoke it. She grabbed an ice-cream bar and closed the door. Further up the isle she found her large bottles of white wine next to the Champaign. She had enough for two bottles if she put the ice-cream back, which seemed to be a shame.
Looking up and down the isle she saw no clerks there who might see her slip the sandwich into her pocket. Agonizing over the crime made her feel hot, dirty and sweaty again, so she decided to circle the isle and pocket the sandwich in front of the frozen pizzas or some such item less likely to be monitored by video cameras.
When she felt safe and alone in the next isle, she shoved the sandwich into her pocket, tearing it. Her jeans were tight enough that she felt it’s cold form bending to conform to the shape of her leg. A rush of blood came to her face and she wanted to get out of the store quickly. She returned to the wine, grabbed one large bottle in each hand and walked straight towards the check-out.
There was one lane with one person in line and she went right for it. A lady was finishing her purchase and her child stared at Ericka from the child’s seat in the cart. Ericka tried not to make eye contact with the child, staring at the cheap miniature self help books on the racks. Baby names, horoscopes, herbal remedies; she picked up one on cats and read without retaining any information, her mind on the sandwich in her jeans. Then the conveyor jerked forward knocking both the bottles down. She lunged for them responding in guilt to the loud crash they made against each other, fearing a broken bottle fiasco.
“It’s all right, it happens all the time,” the young male clerk said. His name tag said Charles and it had a gold star next to it. Ericka locked her eyes on the name tag and didn’t say anything. She was relieved when he didn’t ask for ID, then suspicious. Either she looked old or there was a swat team at the door. She paid and bolted from the line. But Charles called her back. She turned red. “Your receipt and change.”
The ice-cream had emitted one drip she was distinctly aware of as she stepped out of the air-conditioned store, into the blistering heat. It seemed so damn long to walk home. But she wanted out of there. She began to charge across the parking lot when she heard a car honk behind her. She ignored it, her ears turning red.
“Ericka,” a woman’s voice said from inside a ratty mini van behind her. Ericka turned to look, but didn’t stop walking. She cut through a line of parked cars. The mini van accelerated and drove around the bank of cars, caught up to Ericka as she strode. The woman paced her and said, “It’s me, Mandy. I wedding. Can I give you a ride?”
“Oh, hi! No, I’m all right. I’m not far away.”
“Oh, in this heat? No way. get in,” Mandy said.
Ericka was terrified. She was double fisting large bottles of wine, sweating like a horse and had a melting ice-cream bar in her pocket. She looked down to see a wet mark on her thigh. “I’m just around the corner.”
“Damn it, we’re supposed to take care of each other, now get in this damn van and let me take you home,” Mandy leaned on the horn to punctuate her demand. Still guilty about her shoplifting and illegal alcohol purchase, the noise startled Ericka into accusing. She tucked one bottle under her arm and opened the van door and got in awkwardly trying to balance the load.
It was a clean car, despite it’s age. There was a full box of tissues and a cross dangling from the rearview.
“Now my car aint the best but this has got to be better than walking. Have you heard from Mike?” asked Mandy.
“Uh no, not recently,” said Ericka, sitting at an angle to protect the ice cream. “I live just on fifth...”
“I know where you live, I came over with Danny that night before they deployed.”
Ericka vaguely remembered that. It was one of those nights she got drunk and high early and passed out. Danny she remembered as a close friend of Mike’s. They had enlisted together. She couldn’t remember, but Danny might have been a witness at the wedding. Looking down at her seat, it was obvious the stain would show if the ice-cream seeped through her jeans. She placed one of the bottles over the area, but this smashed the cold mass further, causing another drip to roll down into her inner thighs.
“Danny calls me once in a while. He says he’s busy. Too bad he isn’t in the same unit as Mike. God I get bored,” Mandy said, looking over at Ericka, who was looking concerned and straight forward. They drove in silence for a while. Ericka could feel the ice-cream seeping down her leg. The cold and stress made her feel very odd.
“What are you doing?” Asked Mandy.
“Nothing,” blurted Ericka anxiously, covering the stain now with her hand.
“I can’t really find much to do with myself either. I mean I work part time. I kinda hoped I was pregnant, but I’m not. I’m sure that’s too much information.”
“Oh, yeah. I don’t do much either.” Said Ericka, relieved.
“Well, shoot. We should do something...”
“Not tonight, I’m not...” Ericka trailed off not able to think of an excuse as another drip rolled don her leg to her knee.
“Well, no but soon. Like Wednesday night. It’s so damn hot during the day, let’s drive out some where at night and talk,” Mandy said pulling into the driveway of Ericka’s apartment.
“Yes, absolutely, thanks, I gatta go,” and in one lunge Ericka was out the car door and bounding up her apartment steps. Mandy honked and waved as she drove away.


Ericka went straight to the bathroom. She began to slowly remove her pants, but on seeing the stain, she tore them off. The sandwich was obliterated. It’s guts trailed down the outside of her leg. The apartment was swelteringly hot, so she turned on the air-conditioner, but as the lights were on, it blew the fuse. The fuse box was in a closet in the kitchen, which was dark and in order to reach it, she needed to light a candle. Fearing spreading the ice-cream, she merely placed the lit candle in the bathroom and drew a cool bath. She felt completely filthy. The low light made her fell better about her body. She stood in the rising water for a moment, then before settling completely in the bath, she went back out into the dark living room, kicking over a dead potted Ficuses to retrieve one of her massive wine bottles. Her feet still wet, she could feel the mud being created with her toes. She was past caring, though. Sugar on her legs, sweaty all over and some mud in her feet felt kind of fun. Settling into the cool water, she pushed the cork of the wine in with the back end of her toothbrush, causing an explosion of wine which temporarily blinded her. She drank mightily from the bottle, then giggled and gagged a little. She then poured some wine over her head and giggled some more. She eased into the cool water and watched the shadows dance on the wall from the candle. Her breasts lightly bobbed and nipples cast small shadows on themselves.
She began repeating her name to herself over and over to fill the silence of the room. She wanted to say more, but couldn’t think of anything. Never much of a singer or really a talker. She drank and the wine in the bottle made splashing noises. She tensed when she recalled her interaction with Mandy in her clean pristine van.
Some time passed and she became drunk and bored with her own company. She rose from the bath and groped for a towel, but found none. She must have used them all and left them in the other room. She glanced at herself in the mirror and her face looked strange and contorted in the heavy shadows. She even scared herself lifting the wine bottle up, forgetting what the bottle looked like for a split second, it seemed like a dark form lunging for her jugular.
With the bottle in one hand and the candle in the other she slogged through the living room into the kitchen, kicking things as she went. At one point something brushed her leg and she screamed and kicked it, but then realized it was the dead Ficus. The apartment looked like a cave as the sun had set while she was in the tub. She opened the closet, wincing slightly as the result of a childhood fear of monsters in closets and found the fuse.
All of a terrible sudden the lights and air-conditioner lurched back on revealing the tiny filthy apartment.
Muddy footsteps led to the bathroom and there was dirt everywhere. She swayed and swallowed mightily from her bottle. She strode back into the bathroom. The floor was all covered in dirty clothes, ice cream and mud. The bath water was gray. She turned to face herself in the mirror. Her hair was flat and her eyes red. She felt alone and insane.
The phone rang. This paralyzed her. If it were Mike, she might be too drunk to talk. But if it were Mike she couldn’t ignore the call. She missed him, undoubtedly. He was it. There was no more. Still naked she walked into the other room, hitting her shoulder on the doorway causing her to stumble. She knelt in front of the phone and watched it strobe as if she were an alien. She drank a big mouthful of wine and picked up the receiver just in time to hear a click.
She spent the rest of the night on her belly drinking wine naked in the blue glow of the TV. She turned it off to sleep occasionally but the beating of her heart made her turn it on again. She finished the bottle as the birds began to sing for the morning.

She awoke confused. She had dreamt people were in the apartment but she was too drowsy to talk to them. She had kicked dirt into her bed the night before and it stuck to her belly. She went to the window to open it. It was dark outside. It took her a moment to realize she’d slept through the day. She turned on the light and the horror of the apartment returned. Lightly brushing the dirt from her belly, she went into the bathroom where the water was still standing from the night before. Her toes sunk into the ice cream goo on the floor. It was hot and the filth of the apartment made it feel worse. She drained the tub and took a warm shower, cleaning every part of herself thuraly, using conditioner to made her hair bouncy again. She shaved her legs with a half dozen spent razors, and dug at her ears with a wash cloth. But again, turning off the water, she realized there were no towels. She slogged into the other room and found a semi clean one and dried off. She found in the pile of clothes next to the futon some semi clean underwear and a sun dress at put it on. She put on hiking boots with no socks so she could get to the kitchen with out injury.
The refrigerator had only a whole chicken in it. She had put it in there to thaw some two weeks before, but as it was all she had, she took it out and put it on the counter. It reminded of a woman in labor, it’s legs wide with the gapping dark cavity. The texture of it’s skin briefly mesmerized her, then intensely nauseated her. Believing food would clear her strange light headed mood, she searched the cupboards for something to cook it in. They were bare. All the utensils were either in the sink or in the dishwasher. So she turned the water on in the sink and began to pick apart the mess. But gave up and stood there blankly as the water rolled over her hands.
As a cook, she lacked tact. She could cook meat in large quantities, or grilled cheese sandwiches. The kinds of heavy meals one would find in a truck stop on the I-5 or which lead through the town. This did not bother her too much, as Mike’s mother cooked them polenta once and she found it to be bland, unsatisfying and tasteless. On their honeymoon, Ericka had tried to prepare meatloaf for Mike. The honeymoon coincided with their first weekend in the apartment, and it was very lovely. Mike watched TV on their new 13 inch set as she doted in the sparse kitchen. He narrated the action accentuating the word, ‘my.’
“I am now watching my TV as my Basketball team is being killed. I am thirsty, so I am walking to my refrigerator to get one of my beers. Mmm. My beer tastes good. Hello my wife of mine. Are you cooking my meat? Do you realize my happiness? My happiness is huge! Several inches. My my my.”
Ericka was kneading the meat together and could not use her hands when Mike walked up behind her. She continued to kneed as Mike lifted her skirt and pulled down her underwear. He fingered her from behind. She felt as if she should turn to embrace him, but her hands were contaminated. She became flushed and far more aroused than usual.
“And what have we here. Another of my toys. But someone went and made it all wet.” Ericka felt a little weak in the knees as he rubbed her. Mike tired to enter her from behind, but he was too tall the angle was impossible. Ericka turned to accommodate him by backing up and leaning forward, her hands still in the met but to no success. Using the fluid from her vagina he wet his penis and entered her anus which shocked her. He’d never done that before and it hurt. But she pushed towards him. He quickly became enthralled and finished far faster than usual. He paused for a moment and gently retracted.
“I’m sorry, I should have asked, are you OK with that?”
“I don’t know... I mean it was weird. It wasn’t bad,” she said.
“I’m sorry, I wont do it again. I’m not a fag or nothing,” Mike said with a guilty tone.
“No, Mike. It was nice. I like everything... Kiss me.”
Muck from the dishes had blocked the sink from draining and as there was no where to put the dishes already in the sink, the sense of futility made Ericka cry. The silence of the room was terrible. She prayed Mike would call. She tried to keep washing the dishes but lost motivation. The ones she finished had no place to dry. She began to smell the chicken on the warm counter. She grabbed it and tried to put it in the trash but the bin was over flowing. She put it back in the fridge, washed her hands and curled up in the bed. Being clean made the smells of the apartment more apparent. She could smell sweat and other body odors in the bed and she cried helplessly. It became worse as her stomach growled out of hunger. She considered leaving the apartment but couldn’t think of anywhere to go, or any food she wanted. She tensed her entire body in a kind of rage and forced herself to stop crying, then sat in silence in the empty room. A wave of weakness came over her. The other bottle of white wine was still in a shopping bag on the floor. She pushed the cork in with a pen and drank, fighting the dry heaves. She turned on the TV and watched for a while before falling asleep again with a ridiculous grin and dry eyes.

She awoke with a start. She had been dreaming of a tsunami tearing through the Medford valley, pushing cars away and rushing down the streets. She dreamt she took refuge in a tree. She awoke when she fell from the tree because the branches were wet slippery and her arms were too weak to hold on.
The light was deceiving. She though maybe she had slept through the day again, but realized there was a heavy cloud cover. This was a relief. Still dressed from the night before, shoes and all, she grabbed her wallet and left. She was ravenous.
The sky loomed gray. She hoped there would be lightning. It was still quite warm as the humidity was very high. She decided to go to the Hotcake house, a few blocks away.
When she got there, she took a corner booth to wait for the rain to fall. She fumbled with the little packages of jelly an waited. An ancient waitress made her way around the room, pouring coffee for the other customers. Presently she arrived at Ericka’s table and gave her a menu and a glass of water. Her stomach growled as she looked at the pictures of the entres. They we’re all sports themed. There was dry jelly on the laminated surface. The place was empty. Ericka realized she had no idea what time it was and wondered if she would be judged by her order. She remembered Mike always had Ham and eggs at anytime of the day so she decided to have that.
She ordered and was brought the food quickly. She ate it very quickly, but became disappointed when she realized that with the food gone there was no reason to linger. The waitress brought the check as rain began to fall outside. She didn’t mind walking in the rain, only she had no where to go. As she paid the waitress at the cash register, she asked if they hiring, shocking even herself, expecting a no answer. She was immediately handed an application and a pen. She returned to the booth where she had been sitting at and filled it out with one of the small pencils in the Keno Lottery tray, as the pen she was given did not work. She really didn’t have any references, so she put her moms old number because they had different last names. The rain began to come down in sheets. She reread the short application several times as an excuse to linger.
As she handed the job application back to the waitress she smiled in a uncharacteristically proud way. She paused at the door, then strode confidently into the rain.
At first she ran, but as she became immediately soaked, she gave up and walked. She was only wearing a thin sun dress and it quickly clung to the contours of her body. She didn’t mind though. She was getting to feel more alone on Medford streets than in her tiny apartment where people could call her which alleviated the guilt of her worthless lifestyle. Sloshing through puddles, she wished she could dance. Her mood darkened considerably when she saw Mandy’s mini van parked in the parking lot of her building.
Mandy was running down the steps to her car. Ericka stood back a distance and waited in the rain hoping she’d leave. After a while she gave up and walked over to the mail box pretending not to see her. Her box was overflowing with letters, most of which were addressed to former occupants. She decided to leave them there instead of risking soaking something important during the dash across the parking lot. She hoped Mandy wouldn’t see her as she walked up to her door. She thought she made it as she fumbled with her keys in the lock. A roll of thunder concealed Mandy’s approach and as Ericka tried to close the door behind her, Mandy burst in.
“It’s really coming down out there,” Mandy said, dry as a bone. Her obviousness melted as she saw the apartment.
“I didn’t really expect... I’m doing some cleaning,” said Ericka grumpily.
“I’d hate to see you really mess a place up,” said Mandy.
“It’s not usually like this, I’ve been busy.”
“It looks like you had a massive violent seizure,” said Mandy, still looking amazed.
“Do you need something?” Ericka said defiantly, soaked, pulling her dress and underwear out of her butt crack while turning away to hide her nipples which showed through the wet dress.
“We’re supposed to go do something today,” said Mandy. “It’s Wednesday.”
Ericka sighed deeply, surveyed the apartment, then gave up. “Lets go.”
“Don’t you wanna change?”
“No.”

“You two are so hot together. He’s hot but your Punk. Every time I see you your double fisting booze or snarling at someone or something. Then there’s Mike. Nobody would mess with him.” Ericka listened with mild interest as they drove down the highway, the windshield wipers pushing the sheets of water off the glass. She’d never thought of herself as intimidating. “Where did you guys meet?” Mandy said in an obvious attempt to include Ericka.
“I don’t know, we’d always seemed to know each other,” said Ericka. She wished she were driving, or smoking, or something to occupy her hands.
“Where do you want to go?” Ericka didn’t answer.
They drove for some time in silence then Mandy turned on the radio. She scanned the FM, then turned to the AM stations ending on a news cast. A reporter with a British accent was talking about weapons mass destruction. Ericka snapped it off. “Sorry,” she said.
“That’s OK. I understand. It’s kinda morbid,” Mandy said staring forward.
Ericka felt her icy resolve melt somewhat under the weight of the awkward boredom. She looked sidelong at Mandy who was wearing studs in the upper part of her ear. She had an overbite. Ericka really couldn’t recall ever seeing her before the day in the Fred Meyers parking lot.
“Did that hurt?” Asked Ericka.
“What?”
“Your ear piercing, did that hurt?”
“A little. They numbed it a little first with ice. Well, not they, she. My mom did it,” said Mandy.
“Your mom?”
“Yeah, she’s a little crazy. Everyone thinks she’s a Meth head, but she’s not. She’s just trashy,” said Mandy.
“Your not trashy,” said Ericka looking closer at Mandy. “Not that I know what that means, or what I’m saying.”
“Thanks, I guess. I think I’ll get trashy when I get older. It’s either trashy weird and too thin or fat and dopey,” said Mandy.
“Yeah, it seems like those are two kinds of women in the valley.” Ericka bit her lip, “but then again I’m not sure I want to get old in the valley.”
“Well, your not going to get young in the valley, you know?” Mandy had some jewelry on, cheap silly thrift store stuff.
“There are a lot of places to get old. I could get old in Seattle,” said Ericka, noticing a bracelet on Mandy’s far foot.
“Where does Mike want to get old?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think he wants to get old,” Ericka said as she reached for Mandy’s ear stud.
“I bought the stud at the mall and my mom put it in.”
“Through the bonny part?” said Ericka.
“Sick, huh?”
“I want a tattoo,” said Ericka after seeing a tattoo shop pass.
“What of?”
“I don’t know.”
“Maybe you’ll figure it out as you get old,” said Mandy, smiling. “Danny has a tattoo of a doughnut. I don’t get it. It has something to do with the Simpsons.”
“How is he?”
“Bored, he called last night. He does security at an airport in Baghdad. He’s very bored. I told him he didn’t need to go to Iraq to be bored, we got plenty of it here. He didn’t like that. He said it was boring but dangerous and he didn’t like it.”
“All boredom is dangerous,” said Ericka while looking at her nails.
“How so?”
“Well, we do dumb things when were bored,” Ericka said.
“Like what?”
“Pierce our ears,” said Ericka.
“Jealous. You sure your all right wet like that? Do you want the heat on?” said Mandy looking over.
“Lets go to Emigrant Lake,” said Ericka.
“I was kinda headed there.”
“I’m going to swim.”
“In the storm? You wanna get hit by lightning?” said Mandy reproachfully.
“I’m bored,” said Ericka.
“Lets stop for alcohol,” said Mandy as an afterthought.

It was dusk when they reached the lake. The wind had picked up and the rain was coming down in sheets. Ericka opened the car door the second it stopped and walked towards the water. Mandy was careful to the lock the doors, get her jacket and look at herself in the mirror, then shouted for Ericka to wait.
Ericka walked into the water up to her waist, then stood still. The water was cold, but the rain had made her accustomed to the temperature. She watched the rain fall in waves on the water. The rain and haze obscured the other side of the lake. She turned to face the shore. Mandy was standing on there with her hands on her hips. They faced each other for a while. Mandy shrugged which made Ericka angry. She walked deeper into the lake backwards. She didn’t want to go out anywhere anyway. Why the hell would she want to just drive? She walked backwards while facing Mandy.
“I hope you can swim!”
The water wasn’t the cleanest, there were roumors of diarrhea being caused by swimming in the lake. But when Ericka saw that Mandy was methodically taking her shoes off and rolling up her cuffs, she put her arms up and fell backwards in the water. Under water it was quiet. She lingered. When she came up for air Mandy was yelling something. Instead of wiping the water from her eyes, she went back under paddling away from the shore. When she came up again, Mandy was yelling a waving her hands at her. Ericka reluctantly returned to the shore.
“What?” Said Ericka with some annoyance.
“Lighting hit the lake out there. I didn’t want to see you get fried,” Mandy was hiding in her hood and hunched forward, her toes in the water. The nails were pink and she had a thing on one.
“So, what do you wanna do?” asked Ericka, water dripping off her nose.
“You could have died,” said Mandy.
“Let’s drink that bottle,” said Ericka, walking past Mandy then turning towards the car.
“I’m worried about driving,” said Mandy.
“You should be.”
The rain rumbled on the windshield. Ericka struggled to push the cork into the bottle with a pen. Mandy peered nervously through the rain for cops or prohibitionists. When Ericka succeeded to push the cork in, wine exploded out. Without acknowledging the mess, Ericka drank a long drink from the bottle, then handed it to Mandy. Mandy sipped, then saw Ericka’s reproachful gaze, then swallowed more. They sat in silence for some time, then Mandy said, “This feels like High School again.”
“I hated High School,” said Ericka.
“Who didn’t?”
“I don’t know. I avoided that place,” said Ericka, staring into the bottle.
“Did you graduate?”
“GED at the community college with Mike,” this time when Ericka drank, the floating cork obscured the flow, then released a torrent of wine on her face. It was a sweet white wine that burned in her nose. She began to cough.
“Maybe we should leave. I was worried you’d drown out there, but not in my Van,” said Mandy, fumbling with the keys. The day was nearly gone and the light was fading from light blues to dark grays. Ericka continued to drink as they pulled back onto the highway, then Mandy said, “Will you hide that?”

It was completely dark when they pulled into the parking lot of Ericka’s building. Ericka was already planning an escape. She wanted to be out of the car before Mandy could invite herself in, but she also wanted to escape with the bottle. She really didn’t care about being rude. With her hand on the car door handle, she kept her focus on her front door. Mandy said as if on sadistic cue, “Give me a drink of that,” there by throwing Ericka off her game. Mandy swallowed from the bottle while getting out of the car. Excuses fumbled in Ericka’s mind as she trailed Mandy up the wet steps. When they got to the door, Mandy was facing away, and Ericka couldn’t initiate a good-bye, so she reluctantly opened the door.
“Right,” lets get some work done.” Said Mandy charging into the apartment. “Do you have any trash bags?”
“No,” said Ericka, longing to crawl in bed.
“Yes you do, right under your sink. You go around and find things to throw out.” Mandy turned on the water in the sink as she said this.
“I don’t wanna throw anything out.” Ericka said with her lower lip jutting out, her wet clothes still dripping on the carpet.
“Yes you do, don’t fight me on this.”
They worked in silence for a while, Mandy making headway on Ericka’ s dishes, Ericka stomping around filling her big black trash bag with empty bottles, dead plants and overused underwear. When she got all the trash she tough she could find, Mandy looked up for a moment, then said “I’m sure there’s a lot more than that.” So Ericka made another pass at the small apartment, picking things up. “What about the refrigerator,” said Mandy, not looking up from the dishes. Ericka reached in and grabbed the now bright yellow chicken by one leg and threw it in her sack. “Throw those bags away and come right back,” said Mandy, not caring about her condescending tone.
Ericka stomped out into the rain carrying two large plastic bags of trash. She considered getting into Mikes car and driving off, but she didn’t know how to drive. As she heaved the bags into the dumpsite in the back of the building, she resolved to be more forceful with Mandy in her own apartment. She would storm in there and say, “Thank you, but I want to go to bed, I am very tired and wet and I think I may have a fever.”
“Now vacuum,” said Mandy before Ericka was completely in the door. Ericka looked forlornly at the quarter filled bottle of white wine. “What’s in that closet?” said Mandy before Ericka could claim there was no vacuum.
Ericka despised the sound of the vacuum. Growing up her mother had one that barely worked. She’d spend an hour dragging the useless hose over their ugly green carpet at their house. When they had a cat, it would hide from it. When the cat finally ran away, Ericka sobbed and kicked the vacuum. And almost to mock her right after the cat ran away, her mother bought a new vacuum. In a twisted gesture, her mother bought her a vacuum when she got married. She just wordlessly handed her the unwrapped box at the reception at the Eagle Lodge. Ericka knew her mom felt slightly abandoned by her leaving, but as neither ever had much to say about any subject, they just seemed to wordlessly disappear from each other’s lives. Ericka hoped she’d blow a fuse when she plugged the vacuum in, but no luck. Since the vacuum was brand new, it did a surprisingly good job on the dirt on the carpet, her muddy foot prints coming up in just a few passes of the vacuum extension. Using the noise of the machine as a distraction, she edged near the kitchen and grabbed the wine bottle and moved the vacuum back in forth in place to make convincing vacuuming noises as she drank the rest of the wine they took with them to the lake. She still had half a bottle in her bed from the other she was saving for when Mandy left.
Mandy was still working on the mess of dishes. She half covered all the counter space with washed dishes and was beginning to pull them out of the over filled dishwasher. “Is there a washing machine in your building? She said taking another plastic sack out from under the sink. Ericka was really beginning to hate Mandy.
Ericka collected her clothes from the bathroom and around her bed. If she didn’t get away from Mandy soon, she knew she’d snap and slap her. She put her reserve bottle in the bag, grabbed some change and went out the door.
The laundry room was musty and dark. She got her load washing and sat down on a chair and drank her bottle. She was getting too drunk to care weather any of the other tenants saw her drinking. The sound of the machine made her drowsy. It sounded like a train going somewhere far away in the night. What was so appealing about trains, she thought, was that they traveled in darkness. No bright lights. Just rumbled through the forest never stopping.
Ericka was beginning to feel cold. Her sun dress was still wet. Doing things she didn’t like in cool weather reminded her of fall and school. Her rebellion the last few months at high school was never saying a word to anyone. It was spring when she and Mike began to make love. He’d drive over right after her mother left to work at the hospital.
At first she’d be awake waiting for him. But she began sleeping in, waiting to hear the front door open. Mike would come in and talk softly to her. She never opened her mouth, afraid of her morning breath. He’d gently un curl her from the fetal position she slept in, took off her pajama bottoms and would slowly make love to her.
It was a strange feeling waking up to sex. Having her first conscious moment being under a large warm body. Sometimes she’d drift back to sleep as they made love. Mike was careful not to lay with her after he came, because he knew he’d sleep too and miss school. Once he was done, he’s spring out of bed and make something to eat in the kitchen as Ericka took a shower. Mike never made her say anything, preferring his own monologue and barrage of radio or CD sounds. Because Ericka never reached orgasm, the sex would invigorate her, give her the strength and annoyance at the world to wordlessly face it.
The washer, now in the spin cycle was decelerating. Still dreamy eyed with memories, Ericka put the load in the drier. She remembered Mandy, then became anxious. Perhaps she’d find something embarrassing in her apartment. She knew it would serve her right for snooping, but still. Ericka considered going back to the apartment while the load dried, but decided against it. Her anger at Mandy was not just a droning sadness. Ericka was missing all the best prime time TV shows and this made her grumpy. She crossed her arms and shivered. She had goose bumps on her arms and white legs.
Her legs used to be tanned and skinned up from spending all summer in the lots that surrounded her old house. Her mother worked all summer and she had nothing to do but wander around, falling down, explore and talk to herself. That changed when she turned thirteen and the boys started to come over.
No parents at her house meant everyone wanted to come over, watch MTV and get stoned. She didn’t particularly like this and she never got the hang of sitting on the couch for six hours worrying what to do with her arms and legs. The boys seemed to know what to do with them, though.
Ericka took the clothes out of the drier. Mikes hoodie was as clean as it had ever been. She found a warm pair of sweat pants too. She didn’t like the idea of changing with Mandy in the apartment, anyway, Mandy would probably have a task for her the second she got back. So Ericka popped her head out the laundry room door to see if any one was coming, then dropped her rainy wet underwear and quickly put on the sweat pants. She then lifted the dress over her head and fumbled to get the hoodie on. Now dry and warm, she felt she had the strength to face Mandy again.
The apartment smelled like toxic lemons. Ericka uneasily looked for Mandy, but didn’t see her. A wave of relief came over her and she dropped the bag of clothes and collapsed on the bed and closed her eyes. She nearly yelled when she opened them again to see Mandy looming over her.
“The bathroom is clean. Sweet Jesus.”
“You didn’t have to do it,” said Ericka shamefully.
“You sure as hell wouldn’t. You need a table and chairs,” said Mandy, still looming over her. “You got a telephone call.”
“Did you answer it?” Ericka said, springing up.
“No, your answering machine did. Oak Street Diner wants to interview you tomorrow night. That’s pretty cool, what are you going to wear?”
“Clothes...”
“A bra I hope,” said Mandy reproachfully, reminding Ericka she hadn’t worn one all day. “Now look at this place. Don’t you feel more human?”
In protest, Ericka turned on the TV.
“I’m leaving. I’ll be back in the next few days to see how the job interview went,” said Mandy with her hands on her hips. Apparently she had brewed a pot of coffee, as she gulped from a coffee cup Ericka had forgotten she had. She poured out the dregs and rinsed the cup. “Today was fun,” Mandy said with the tone of someone coaching a witness. Ericka was almost sleep as she heard the door close.

Ericka leered at her body in her newly immaculate bathroom. She’d shaved all the appropriate parts, cleaned and put on make-up, but she still felt like she was forgetting something. She wore a mini skirt and a light blue button up shirt, which seemed waitresss-eque. She’d worked fast food in High School, then some light secretarial stuff for the local disabilities advocate organization after that. She’d been fired from both for lateness. But after a mornings agonizing, she decided waitressing was something she could try, at the very least for the free food that was prepared for her.
She was still early when she left the apartment. The message said for her to come in at four and to bring her ID. She figured it’d be over by five and she could get something to drink and maybe Mike would call. She’d been avoiding his calls because she had nothing new to say, but having a job as a waitress would be new. But then she may not get the job either. It was a warm afternoon, but not nearly as bad as earlier ones. All the same she was sweating when she opened the diner door. It was empty inside except the waitress she’d seen earlier.
“You must be Ericka. I’m Jules, hi.” Jules took Ericka’s grin as a response at directed her too a booth. “OK honey, this aint rocket surgery. You’ve either done it before or been to a restaurant and had someone wait on you. Your gonna get yelled at when your doing everything right anyway, so I’m not going to act like there’s a perfect way to do this. Just don’t piss anyone off so bad they complain to the owner, and you’ll be fine. George is in the kitchen, he speakers better English than my kid. Tony’s the dish washer, he doesn’t say much. The hours are late. 10pm to 6pm. You a night owl?”
“Yes.”
“You got two forms of ID?”
“Yes.”
“You gatta pee?”
“No.”
“Good. Wash your hands and put this on. I’m gonna hire you.”
Jules walked Ericka around the diner, pointing out correct sugar packet ratios and napkin dispenser tricks. Then she took her back into the cooler to show her where the butter, jam and cream was kept. They took an order together from a silent man who wanted scrambled eggs and lots of hot sauce. When he paid, Jules loomed behind Ericka as her shaky hands worked the register. It was during this exchange Ericka realized she wasn’t wearing deodorant. She began to think of excuses for going home.
When 6pm rolled around, the traffic picked up. Ericka was sent to cover her own tables. A second waitress came in, a frail woman who didn’t acknowledge Ericka. Ericka wrote out all the special instructions for each meal on each ticket. When she put them on the counter for the cook, she noticed the two other waitresses used a shorthand. She waved to get the cooks attention. He was a tall Mexican man with sad features.
“Is that OK?”
“Is what OK?”
“How I’m writing the tickets?”
“Look at this one that Jules wrote. It says ‘SE, HM,’ I guess that’s supposed to mean scrambled eggs and ham. I guess. If I’m wrong she screams at me. She doesn’t tip me. Yeah, girl. That’s good. Write it out for a while. I like that. It mixes things up, yeah?”
Ericka continued to serve tables, making change and getting tipped a dollar here and there. As she became at ease with the pace of the job, she sweat less. Jules confronted her at the counter.
“Honey, you don’t have to write it out like that. Abbreviate,” she said, holding one of her tickets.
“Hey! I just told her to write it out. Don’t go teaching her your fucked up waitress language,” yelled Tony, meat sizzling all around him.
“Listen, she aint got time to write it out. What if somebody wants A half order of sunyside up eggs with sourdough bread and a short stack of waffles. That’s a lot of words, George.”
“Then we close up shop and go home. I blow my brains out all over the grill. Tony steals my wallet. Meth becomes legal. Write it out girl... what’s your name?”
“Ericka.”
“I’d appreciate, Buddy will appreciate, all the cooks will. Neat block letters like in grade school. Like there’s that dotted line running down the middle of the words. OK?”
“Listen, Ericka. Jessica and you are working the swing shift. I’m off. You have questions, ask her. You’re replacing her. Buddy is on at 8pm. Everything OK? You think you can do the job?”
“Sure.”
“OK. Here’s my number. Call me if anything goes wrong. But nothing will. Thursday through Sunday, 8pm to 6am. That’s you. Go get your tables.”
Sometime passed with a trickle of customers. Then around 10 pm, the restaurant was completely empty again. Ericka refilled her sugar packets, set her tables and joined Jessica, with whom she had yet to speak, at the counter.
“Pretty boring, huh?” Jessica’s hands were shakily counting out her small pile of tips. She had what looked like acne scabs on her face and a few on her hands.
“It’s all right,” said Ericka, settling in, keeping her arms closed.
“Say, I’m supposed to finish the week out, but I’m not. It’s pretty straight forward here. If you have questions, ask Buddy in there. Good luck. I’m out of here.”
Ericka watched Jessica walk out the door into the night. She realized she hadn’t noticed the sun set. A wave of panic and thrill passed over here as she realized she was in charge. She stood to walk over to the kitchen to introduce herself to Buddy, who she’d not yet met, but saw he was washing dishes and listening to a headset radio. The thought crossed her mind that she was born for this kind of anonymous work.
The night passed uneventfully. A slow trickle of customers traveling through town came in for coffee and grease. Before dawn another waitress named Sam came in and reprimanded Ericka for all the things she hadn’t done; stock the what evers and or clean the looming steamy device. But Ericka dismissed her with a wave, saying it was her first night, assuming the gruff nature she thought fit a waitress and left.
As she made the short walk to her apartment, she noticed lights turning on in the houses, birds chirping and groggy men pulling trash cans to the curb. She opened the door to her apartment and walked right to bed, falling asleep with her shoes on.

She worked the next few days without incident and was heralded by Jules as a hero for taking over so quick. Her routine became quite enjoyable. She ate at the restaurant, did crosswords when it was slow and really spoke as few words as possible. After work she took the quarters she made and washed her clothes. Before work she’d shop. The checks from the army came direct deposit to her bank account and on tips alone she was amassing a nice cash cushion. She was mildly disappointed to have missed another call from Mike, but since it came while she was a work, and not just laying around watching TV, she felt a kind of pride. She replayed the tape a few times, Mikes voice sounded business like. He ended the call with an, ‘I love you.’
In fact Ericka felt so at ease working, when her days off came around, she took the extra shifts Jessica left. Jules mentioned some worry Jessica would return to rob the place. George brought whiskey and Ericka shared some of it the shifts they worked together. When Ericka screwed up orders, she didn’t really mind. The moment the costomer yelled at her wasn’t nice, but she felt there wasn’t really anything that person could do to hurt her, so she took it all in stride.
Mandy began to visit and Ericka felt a comfortable distance from her, inventing chores when the conversation lagged. Ericka gave her free coffee instead of going through the bother of ringing it up, and Mandy complained about her job at chain clothing store at the mini mall. Ericka took some delight in asking her nonsensical questions when she was drunk on George’s cheap whiskey. This would frazzle Mandy and sometimes she’d lightly hit Ericka, which made her smile.
Partially what comforted Ericka about the job was sleeping through the days. This made the nights seem somewhat like a lucid dream. Mandy began to bring her clothes, either new ones from the sore or one’s she’d bought herself and didn’t like anymore. These smelled differently, and usually clung tighter to Ericka’s breasts, which were larger than Mandy’s.
The only time she ever thought about danger, or Mike was when she picked up the papers the customers left. Pictures of explosions, bodies and minarets adorned the front page nearly every day. But she avoided reading the headlines as she dug out the crossword puzzles, which she became quite good at. She could spend a whole methodical night on one, especialy when working with Buddy, looking up words, reworking them or starting over when a customer brought in a fresh paper.

Ericka had just finished a shift and was checking her mail when she noticed a letter from Mike. A wave of fear went down her back as she made her way up to her apartment. She dropped the rest of the mail on the kitchen counter and sat on the growing pile of clothes she was amassing. With shaking hands, she opened the letter. Inside was a picture of Mike looking thin and tanned. The letter was in his big childish scrawl.

Dear Ericka,

Why don’t you pick up the fucking phone? Is it too heavy? My brother says you have a job. That’s cool. That’s why you don’t pick up the fucking phone? I got big fucking guns here, if you got a new guy, I can kill him quick or slow. Your choice. Just kidding. It’s hard here. It’s boring then really fucking crazy. We stand around with guns in the sun all day, for weeks, then shoot the shit out of something. Nobody I know got killed. They said the invasion was crazy. But that was like years ago. I’m safe and I miss you. I feel like I forget things about you, or I think about things differently and I want to know you again. Write, me please. I miss you.
When I get back I want a house. And a truck. What do you think? Where do you work? Write me.

Your Loving Husband,
Mike
P.S.
Some guys wives have pictures of their women. Could you maybe take one of you?

Ericka reread the letter a few times. It was several pages long because of the size of the writing. It made her feel happy. She was worried avoiding his calls had made him mad or hurt him. She crawled over to her bed and closed her eyes to sleep but opened them again. The sun was up and the apartment looked so white and barren. She didn’t feel tired. She got up again and looked for something to attach the letter and photograph to the wall with. She found clear tape and put the photo and letter pages in a line on the wall. Then she gathered some of her tips off the counter and counted them. She had nearly sixty dollars. That would be enough for a camera, she thought and left for the store.
The store had just opened, and the grocery clerks were preoccupied with the things they did to open the store to get it ready. She stood amongst the cameras, trying to think through a plan. If she got a film camera, she’d have to get the pictures developed. She wanted to take some of herself nude and was worried they’d ask her questions when they developed them. The digital cameras could print at a kiosk in the photo center, but again she’d feel weird printing them in the wide open. She remembered when her mother threw a birthday party for when she turned ten, she bought a Polaroid camera. The photos sat in a box in a closet for years. The camera she sold at a garage sale when she was fourteen. But she remembered that the camera yelled pictures immediately.
“Can I help you with anything?” A clerk startled her and broke her chain of thought.
“No, I’m OK.”
“Just come get me if you aren’t OK.”
She found a Polaroid camera and the film, which was all more expensive than she’d thought it’d be. With her money she could manage the camera and twenty pictures, but that seemed enough. She put back a 10 pack of film when she decided she wanted a bottle of wine too.
The checker looked at her purchases and said, “looks like you have a fun evening planned,” which made Ericka blush.
She hustled home, through the big parking lot. The streets were full with the morning commute, big trucks and van full of hollowed fat people. She thought maybe she should take pictures of Medford for Mike too. Or maybe some of the people at work. When she got back to the apartment, she unloaded her bag of purchases on the kitchen counter. She wish she had a table where she could sit down and read the instructions to the camera. She poured a big glass of wine in a juice glass and loaded the camera. It fired a startling test flash and she felt giddy.
She took the camera into the bathroom. Looking the mirror, she decided to put on makeup, which she rarely did. She balanced the camera on the toilet tank, then turned her attention to the mirror. She became aware of an eerie silence as she locked her eyes on herself in the mirror. Since working, she felt like she’d lost weight. Mike had always said she had a pouty face, like she was never quite happy. She had dull gray blue eyes. She decided to put on mascara. After some smearing, she managed to apply it somewhat coherently. It looked stupid. She then put on a deep red lipstick and some blush. This made it look like she was hiding something on her face. She went back into the kitchen to think things over. Leaning against the counter, trying to conceive of a photograph that wouldn’t look dumb, she quickly inhaled the glass of wine. This made her feel a little naughty. As she returned to the bathroom, she took off her shirt. She stood back fro the mirror to look at herself. Goose bumps rose on her arms. Her breasts were comprable to what she’d seen in movies. She’d always been insecure about her nipples, they seemed too small. She pinched them to make them swell a little. Her hair was long. She’d cut it sholder length a few months ago, but now it was quite long. She messed it up. Mike always said she looked beautiful after sex and when she’d go to the bathroom after, he hair was a mess. “What the hell,” she thought, and picked up the camera and held it arms length from herself.
She took the shot and the camera dispenced the film. It was white, but she remembered from somewhere you had to wave it around like it was on fire. She held her breasts with one hand and shock the photo with the other. Soon an image materialized. The foreshortening of her arm as it got closer to the camera made it look like some kind of massive obease snake. Her face was very white, in fact the only color in the photo was her lipstick. You couldn’t see her breasts.
Next she tried taking the photo of herself in the mirror, but the photo looked odd with her face obscured by the camera. The next picture she took holding the camera next to her face, but then the photo looked like a mug shot. She wasnt getting very far. In despair, she collapsed on te bed again.

That night when she went to work, she took her camera. She intended to take pictures of the dinner for Mike. It was to be an uneventful night, a Sunday with Buddy. When she got a minute alone, she took out the camera. Looking through the view finder she saw little of interest. She composed a scene on the counter with a coffee cup, napkin, sugar packets and her apron with her name tag. She looked outside for more customers as she shock the picture so it would develop. She put her apron back on and went into the kitchen. Buddy didn’t look up. He was washing some dishes and his Walkman was on full blast. She took a picture of him. The flash made him look up, but not at her. He looked out into the dining room and shrugged. He turned to return to his washing and saw her standing there. He gave a grin. He had a hideous face with missing teeth. Ericka took another photo of him like this, stained and horrible.
“What the hell are you doing?” He asked.
“Taking pictures,” answered Ericka.
“I can see that, yo. Why?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Let me see.” Crowded into her as the picture developed. “Jesus. I am one ugly fuck.”
“Will you take a picture of me?” Ericka said, handing him the device.
“Sure. DO I just push this?” He took the picture and she took the developing picture out. As the image appeared she realized she had her hands defensively behind her back, the photo looked like she didn’t have arms. “You’re very pretty. I mean that. You act like you don’t know it too, which makes you prettier.” HE smiled again. A customer came in and she didn’t have to scrutinize the image further. She put the camera behind the register and took his order.
The night went on at a dull pace until Mandy came in and sat at the counter.
“What’s new?” Ericka asked.
“In this town?”
“With you,” said Ericka pouring while Mandy’s coffee. Mandy was wearing a cheap chooker which brought out he light freckles. Ericka noticed a cleft in her chin she hadn’t noticed.
“Oh, I’m thinking of quitting. But I’m always thinking of that. Your doing well here.
“So so. Slow night. I bought a camera.” Said Ericka, camera now in hand.
“I can see that. Why?”
“TO take pictures. Of stuff. To send.” She said, looking down at it.
“To Mike? Aww, that’s a great idea. You never say anything about him. That’s wonderful. Have you taken any so far?”
“A few,” said Ericka while handing her the four she’d just taken.
“Who is that? What’s that?”
“That’s the cook, Buddy. He took that one.” Said Ericka while pointing at the armless photo of herself.
“Let me try,” said Mandy reaching for the camera. Ericka handed it to her and than began to think about how to stand. “Come here,” Said Mandy. Mandy then unbuttoned a few of the buttons on her shirt, then opened the collar. “OK, put your arms on the counter and smile a little.” She took the picture and Ericka came around the counter to look. The picture that developed had a good peak at her cleavage and a stray hair over her face. “That’s hot,” said Mandy.
Ericka held it and looked closely. Her dark hair looked black. You could see her black bra under her light blue shirt. It was a pretty good picture. She was startled by another flash. Mandy had taken another one of her when she wasn’t noticing. She sat next to her and waiting for it to develop, but just then two young men came in. She reluctantly went over to get their orders. After she got them coffee and water, she hastily returned to Mandy. The last photo she’d taken was the best. Ericka was looking down at a photo with a locks of hair hanging down.
“Your good at this.” Ericka hesitated, then went and got the remaining photos she’d taken of herself and was about to give them to Mandy, then she said, “Promise you wont laugh.”
“Why?”
Ericka handed her the topless ones she’d taken that morning. Mandy was briefly surprised, but then composed. She handed them back. There was a silence between, then Ericka blushed and went to get the order from the table. The shy young men ordered, she wrote it down and gave it to Buddy, who was back in his own world. She strode back over to Mandy and without looking her in the eye said, “will you take some of me like that?”
“Sure. When?”

They had arranged to meet that next afternoon before Ericka went to work. Ericka meant to set the alarm and get ready before Mandy arrived, but she slept right up to the moment Mandy knocked on the door. Ericka lay in her bed for a moment, remembering the days task when Mandy tried the door handle and walked in.
“Good morning, rise and shine,” Mandy was carrying a bag of clothes with her.
“What time is it?” Ericka said, sitting up.
“3pm, we have just enough time.” Mandy said, flinging open the curtains. She then stood appraising Ericka, who was rubbing her eyes. Ericka looked up at her, but could only make out her silhouette. “Hold that pose,” Said Mandy crawling to the foot of the bed.
“What are you doing?” Said Ericka, faking a smile as the flash went off on the camera.
“I bought a lot more film,” said Mandy taking another picture of the stunned Ericka.
“I have to pee,” Said Ericka and she stumbled into the bathroom, locking the door behind her. After she flushed, she confronted her self in the mirror. Her face was a little puffy. She wasn’t sure where to begin, so she brushed her teeth. Mandy knocked on the bathroom door.
“Don’t put on any makeup. It makes you look like a whore,” said Mandy through the door.
“Thanks for that.”
Ericka opened the bathroom door to se an array of clothes lain out on the floor of her apartment. She felt the deep desire to take a drink and wondered how she could sneak one. If she had juice, she could mix the white wine with it.
“Get back in bed.” Mandy ordered. Ericka complied. Mandy knelt over her, eased her body into a sleeping position. “Act like you just woke up.”
“That’ll be hard,” Ericka said as Mandy arranged her hair to obscure half of her face. Mandy then rolled the cover half way over the length of her body. She then pulled down Ericka’s sweat pants to reveal a slight line of pubic hair. Ericka tensed up and almost went fetal.
“We can do this the hard way,’ Mandy said, smirking. Ericka complied and reclined. Mandy then pulled Ericka’s cotton shirt above her belly. She then stood and looked at Ericka, who had a meek frazzled expression. “Almost close your eyes the whole way and smile,” said Mandy as she knelt and took a photo. She didn’t look at the photo as it imerged from the camera, just tossed it into the room. Mandy shifted her weigth a little then took another photo.
“Now very slowly take your shirt off. Very very slowly. Stay laying there.” As Ericka complied she noticed her hand were shaking. She pulled her shirt over her head and heard the camera fire twice. Now resting on her elbows, Ericka looked down at her breasts. Her heart was beating. Mandy took another photo. Then stood and paced. Ericka took this moment to look at her breasts for flaws. Somehow a blade of grass was stuck to her nipple, so she raised held her breast up to get a closer look. “Hold that,” Mandy said and took another shot.
“Take off your pants,” Mandy ordered, making Ericka stall and look worried. Mandy took a picture of this expression, compelling Ericka to act. She lifted her middle in the air to accommodate getting the back end of the pants off. Mandy crawled over to the foot of the bed and took photos as she approached Ericka, discarding the images to the center of the apartment as the camera fed them out. When Mandy was nearly on top of Ericka, Ericka realised she was blushing. Mandy took one very close to her face, paused then stood and walked over to the window sill where she had left a cup off coffee. “What next?” she said dispasionatly. Ericka groped for her pants and shirt.
Ericka was flushed and nervous. Her heart was pounding. She wanted to see the photos, but she also wanted a drink. She held her clothes to her front and went into the kitchen and poured a glass of wine.
“Drink that quick,” said Mandy, staring at the pile of clothes she had thrown on the floor. “How kinky do you want to do this?”
Ericka drank from the cup, swallowed and took a deep breath. The afternoon light was appealing. She then awkwardly walked to the pile of clothes. When she got there, she knelt and dropped the clothes she was carrying to cover her self. Mandy had brought an assortment of lingerie, garters and silly satin bed novelties one sees for sale around valentines. Ericka help up a plaid skirt and looked up at Mandy questioningly.
“You wanna wear that? What? Yeah, it’s all mine. Well you asked me to help,” said Mandy, sternly, standing again as a silhouette against the light streaming in through the window.
“I don’t... I don’t want it to bee too forced. I want it to be normal,” said Ericka, searching for words.
“What’s normal? I mean to you? Where did you two do it?”
“The kitchen,” Ericka said as turned her focus to inspect the kitchen.
“Why don’t your wear that skirt, some garters and a halter top,” Mandy said touring the small bare kitchen.
Ericka put on the appropriate clothes. While putting on the top she noticed she had some belly button lint. She stood and walked barefoot into the kitchen. Mandy looked up at her with an appraising expression. “Let me do your hair,” Mandy said and walked into the bathroom. Ericka shotguned the rest of her wine and followed her.
In the bathroom Mandy was wielding a hairbrush like a gun. As Ericka entered, she took her arm and guided her to face the mirror in front of her. Ericka looked at Mandy’s face looming behind her. She hadn’t realized how much taller Mandy was. Mandy began to brush her hair somewhat forcefully. There were some knots in her hair as she had just woke up. Mandy had on her choker.
“Where’d you get that?” Ericka said.
“What?” Said Mandy.
“On your neck.” Ericka tried to point in the mirror.
“Oh. Danny said French girls wore them when their men left for war. He bought it for me.
“That’s sweet.” Mandy continued to brush Ericka in silence for a while. The force of the brush through the knots made Ericka lean on Mandy to brace herself. Ericka thought her but felt soft on Mandy’s bonny pelvis. Mandy began to make a braid beginning on Ericka’s right temple.
“I’m going to try something with your hair,” Mandy said mater of factly.
“You act like you’ve done this before,” said Ericka grinning stupidly.
“I have, Kind of. Danny takes a lot of pictures of me. I’ll show you some day.”
Ericka tried to remember Danny. All she could conjure to mind was his chubby face. She remembered he was often quiet, which she thought was boring. But then again she was often quiet too.
“Do you miss him?” Ericka said, trying to face Mandy, but Mandy held her head still.
“Me? Yes. A lot. He writes long letters and calls, then is quiet for ever. I miss him. I miss him when he’s here too.” Mandy put one of her legs through Ericka’s to brace a tighter braid. “I think this is a good look for you. You let your hair flop around, which is hot, but this way you don’t have to worry a lot about it, it doesn’t look whorish. I’ve thought about this look on you for a while.” Mandy began another braid on Ericka’s other temple. She finished that one in silence. Ericka noticed Mandy wore light blue eye shadow and that she looked older when she concentrated. Mandy joined the two braids at the back of Ericka’s head and put them in a pony tail. “OK.”
Mandy left the bathroom and Ericka lingered to look at her hair. It seemed strange, like she was dressed up as someone else. She realized she was dressed as Mandy. Ericka couldn’t help but feel a little aroused by it all. The situation was so strange, she decided to have fun with it. She turned off the bathroom light and walked into the apartment again. She realized she smelled like Mandy and help up the shirt she was wearing to smell it as she entered the kitchen.
“What? It’s all clean. I promise,” said Mandy. She had several bowls and a bag of flour out. “Didn’t think you’d have food,” she said surveying the refrigerator, then taking out a carton of eggs. “I just thought you’d have wine.”
Ericka sidestepped Mandy and brought the wine bottle out of the refrigerator and poured another tall juice glass. “I’m going to be drunk at work,” remarked Ericka.
“It wont be a first, though will it? I can tell,” Mandy said absently while loading the camera.
“Does it smell?” Ericka asked.
“No, but your mood and cheeks change. You usually look sad. When your drunk you look happy. Ready?”
Mandy took photos of Ericka making some sort of fictional meal, stopping at times to put four on her face and shoulders. Ericka felt somewhat ridiculous but really began to enjoy herself. The wine on an empty stomach was beginning to make her act sloppy. She did poses and things with her body she wouldn’t have usually. She began to some vulgar things, but still couldn’t muster the courage to do them. Mandy had her arms covered in batter so when she wanted Ericka to remove a piece of clothing or adjust her body, she had to do it. At one point Mandy wanted a shot that appeared like Ericka’s breast had fallen out and the efficient way Mandy handled Ericka’s breast made her heart race.
“That’s it,” said Mandy suddenly and walked into the living room and began to gather her clothes.
“What?” said Ericka, feeling jilted, covered in flour and topless.
“Out of film. I’m late. Lets hang out tomorrow and look at these,” said Mandy after looking at her watch and abandoning what she had collected. “Sorry I gatta run, bye!” She slammed the door as she left. Ericka heard Mandy’s van start in the parking lot. She raised her hands fro the bowl then walked into the living room, squinting down at the floor trying to see the developed photos.
She then walked into the bathroom, wriggled out of her skirt and stepped in the shower. She was feeling light headed from lack of food, but when she managed to get the water on, the initial cold blast woke her up. She got the batter off her arms with the shower head then sat in the tub and aimed the water at her vagina. Masturbating was something she always did laying on her stomach in bed with her eyes closed. She seldom achieved climax any other way. But this time she looked closely at her crotch and pubic hair. Without a distinct fantasy, she quickly climaxed. She felt a tingling all over her body which was replaced by sadness as the reality of the silent apartment flooded in.

Work was busier than usual. George was working and with one wink she got him to produce a spiked coffee for her. The intoxication made work go by faster than usual. She made many errors but with her effusive drunk charm she talked herself out of any serious repercussions. The dusk, noise and smells of the diner seemed friendly. As she was wearing Mandy’s skirt and top she was constantly aware of her. She used a kind vanilla shampoo, which made Ericka wonder what she smelled like.
About half way through her shift she lost all her intoxicated momentum. During a lull she sat at the counter and ate her first meal of the day which had the immediate affect of making her very sleepy. She still had four hours left on her shift before the morning servers came in. A man in a suit came in and Ericka stood to take his order, but George ran the ‘order up bell,’ which was odd as there were no other customers in the diner.
“Take this to that man,” said George with out explaining. It was a plate brimming with scrambled eggs. “Bring him the big bottle of Tabasco.”
Ericka shrugged and brought the plate to the man in the suit. He did not look at her, but had his hand extended to take the plate. “Can I get you anything else?” Ericka asked, but he ignored her. Ericka returned to her place at the counter and rubbed her eyes. She was so tired she felt like crying. Any more whiskey and coffee she knew would make her vomit. She hadn’t been sitting long when she heard the door open and close. Seeing no one had come in the diner, she looked over to see the man had left.
“Bring me what he left,” George said from the kitchen. As Ericka bussed the table she noticed a brown bag on the seat. The man had left a twenty dollar bill as well. She took the bag and plates to the sink in the kitchen where the dishwasher worked during the breakfast and lunch rushes. George walked over and took the small brown bag and put in his pocket. Ericka tried to hand him the twenty, but George refused, signaling with his hands it was for her. Ericka burped a little, causing a rush of coffee whiskey slurry to come up the back of her throat. She put her hand to her mouth and quickly made her way to the bathroom where she vomited up a huge amount of matter.
She was very disoriented and all she could think about was going home as she reemerged into the dinning room. All the smells and sounds that were formerly inviting were now nauseating and overwhelming. From the kitchen, George said, “Mira,” and disappeared. Ericka walked back to the kitchen bracing herself on chairs as she went. She stopped at the dishwashers sink and washed her face and gargled. Looking up she noticed the back door was open. She went out the door and saw George cutting a white powder with a kitchen knife on top of the old dish sanitize people used as a table when they smoked in the back. George knelt over the small line with a rolled up dollar bill to his nose and snorted the thin line up.
“This is bad for, but you don’t look good. I mean you look good, but you look like you don’t feel good.” In the florescent light coming from above the near by dumpsites, George looked a lot older. He had a way of standing and moving that was very non threatening. He’d always back away, not as if he was avoiding you, but to signify you were safe to go anyway you wanted.
With out thinking too much, Ericka took the bill and leaned over to inhale the small line George left for her. She inhaled hard but not much of the powder went up the rolled bill. George lit a cigarette and smiled, then motioned with his hands for her to plug one of her nostrils as she inhaled. She did.
“Now get to work ‘sita,” George said grinning broadly.
Ericka was at first unsure how to place her new mood. She wasn’t nauseous anymore. She felt quite good. She felt strong and energetic. She felt a little nervous and guilt, so she cleaned and got caught up with all her chores, restocking the condiments, wiping the tables. When she was finished with that, she still had a lot of energy. She found she was gritting her teeth a little. A large group of kids came in. They had been to some kind of party and were slow in ordering which made Ericka chew furiously as she stood there dealing with their indecision. Walking over to the kitchen counter she realized she wasn’t chewing on anything. George’s sad features were replaced by an absent look of concentration. Ericka put the order on the counter, then leaned against it to look closer at George.
George had a scab on the end of his nose. He had on a white cook’s smock which was strangely clean. He had a tiny earring Ericka hadn’t noticed.
“What?” Said George. “You can’t have me, I’m taken.
“Are you married, George,” asked Ericka.
“Yes I am, Ericka,” said George, replicating her tone as he arranged food on the grill. The meats sizzled.
“Are you married, Ericka?” said George with out looking up.
Ericka paused, then said, “Yes.”
“You had to think about that, are you sure?”
“Yes. He’s in Iraq,” Ericka had never looked closely at the kitchen. Every surface was utilized for storage. There was a refrigerator with a glass door and she could see rows and rows of eggs in it.
“You married Sadam Hussien?” Said George. “He’s bad man. But I bet you like it rough.”
“No. His name is Mike.”
“What does he look like?” George threw on a chunk of butter which hissed.
:”He’s pretty tall. He’s...” Ericka trailed off. It’s not that she couldn’t picture him, she couldn’t think of the correct words to describe him.
“Yeah, I think I’ve seen that guy. He’s got that thing. And when he walks he sorta does that thing.” George said this in a serious tone which made Ericka suspicious.
“Do you know him?” Ericka said incredulously.
“Yeah. I know this guy. He’s pretty tall. He... Yeah I know him,” George produced the first plate of the order. Ericka reached over and hit him.
“You do not.”
“Oww, oww. Worker’s comp. She’s abusing me.” George was smiling. “I shouldn’t fuck with you. Your husband probably has lots of big guns. Or maybe just one.”
“I don’t like guns,” said Ericka, absently eating a French fry off a plate.
“That’s un heigenic. You don’t like guns and you got a husband in the army. Is he safe?” George produced another plate. “Don’t eat all this one before it gets to the table.”
“I think he’s safe. We don’t talk much.”
“Is he the quiet type? One of those Medford white boys that never says anything? He just grunts? Drives around in a pickup with a gun rack and chews Tabasco?” George looked very seriously at her.
“No he’s not a Medford white boy,” Ericka said defensively.
“No he’s not a Medford white boy,” George repeated in a fake girl voice. Ericka threw French fry at him. “Oww. You blinded me. It racism. You blinded the Mexican cook.”
“Shut up,” Ericka said as she gathered all the plates to take to the table.

The hours flew by. Ericka all the while had a sly smirk like she knew something no one else did. This high wasn’t an awkward sleepy pot high, it was a frenzied hyper aware high. Her mind turned over her life as she waited the sparse tables. She realized she was quite happy with how things were. She missed Mike and she’d send the pictures to him that afternoon. Mandy was a good friend and she was a good waitress. Medford was a good town and she was a sexy young girl. George was a wise man and his cooking was perfect. A table set with coffee mugs and silverware was probably the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.
As Ericka was taking a load of dishes back to the kitchen to be washed, George stopped her and said, ‘I don’t snort this Meth shit. I just like the way it smells,” and pointed outside where she found another line under a Fred Meyer’s gift credit card.
Ericka felt mildly disappointed when her shift ended. George was getting ready to leave and Ericka hugged him. The replacement waitress came in and Ericka effusively rambled about something irrelevant. She made a cup of coffee to go and walked out into the night. It was September now and the nights, although still warm, had a cold edge to them. The early rizers could be seen through the big windows of their ranch style homes.
As Ericka opened the door to her apartment, she felt an incredible affection for the place. She wanted to look more closely at the photos they had taken earlier but first she wanted to clean the place. She set about organizing the clothes on the floor, folding and standing them in a corner. She though it odd she’d yet to acquire a dresses, let alone a table. Sometimes when she emptied the trash there were large free furniture items waiting to be hauled off. She’d keep her eye peeled for tables or dressers, she thought. She made her bed and felt the intense desire to cuddle with someone in the big cotton blankets. The desire was so intense she tried to think of anyone who’d be awake at that early hour.
Deciding that idea to be silly she opted to take a shower. In the bathroom, another thing she realized she lacked was a stereo. She wished she could shower to some music, anything really. Mike had always been accompanied by a din of sound, in his cars, in his room, everywhere he went he turned on music. Now her life was so silent. Looking in the mirror she realized she still had her big apron on. The hair style Mandy had imposed on her was still discernible, but falling apart giving her a disheveled naughty look. She kept grinning eye contact with herself as she took of her apron, shirt and skirt. She slipped out of her underwear and got into the shower. Ericka had never sung, really ever in her life. When she was younger in music class she would refuse. Sometimes she’d mouth the words, but she refused to make any noise. Now in the shower she tried to sing. She rested her head against the shower wall and tried to carry a note. It seemed to work, but she wasn’t sure.
She skowered her body, turned off the water and wrapped herself in a towel. She brushed her teeth and walked into the living room feeling clean and composed. She then sat cross legged on the floor and with one hand spread the photos around. There were about thirty of them. She turned over the ones that were laying face down. She picked up one that appealed to her. She squinted deep into the details. It was a picture of her laying in bed, mostly nude. Her hair obscured her face, the camera had caught her in motion. The blanket of the bed was laying in just such a way to reveal her vagina and she could see the flesh of the lips through the pubic hair. She looked at this detail for quite some time before picking up the next picture.
This picture had her hands in a mixing bowl, trails of white batter leading up her arms. One of her breasts was exposed and her eyes were closed. Her braided hair was freshly styled. The flesh of her nipple was raised and pink. She wondered if that was normal. She felt her own nipples, lowering the towel she was wearing. When she wasn’t aroused, they looked almost flesh colored.
When she had finished looking at the second picture she put it next to the first, beginning a tidy line. She looked at the rest of the photos in the same laborious manor, stopping to inspect her own body. When she’d seen them all, the line of photographs extended nearly across the whole living room. She stood to appraise them, then decided to order and group them after she made a cup of coffee.
She made coffee by rolling a paper towel into a funnel and filling it full of grounds, then putting the apparatus on top of a cup. She’d seen a boy do that on a camping kegger trip once and the ingenuity of it stuck with her. The coffee came out pitch black and it seemed to rejuvenate her mood. The sun had come up and the temperature began to rise.
Crawling around on her bare knees, she managed to put the photos into two piles, one of bed pictures, one of kitchen pictures. She then set about to put them in a time line, which was easy as the more nude she became, the later in the series the photo was. She then arranged the photos into grids which followed the progression she’d established. She stood to appraise her two rectangles laying on the floor. Somewhere in the process she’d lost her towel. She then set about to picking ten pictures to put into an envelope for Mike, every time she took a photo, she’s arrange the grid to absorb the missing space. When she had what she believed to be the ten best, she walked over to the kitchen counter where she had a yellow legal pad. She began to write.

Dear Mike,
I’m here, working a lot. I like my job. I am a waitress. I miss you. I don’t know what to say. I want to have sex for a week straight when you come home. How is Iraq? Medford is fine. You know I never have that much to say. Sorry. Here are some pictures for you.

Love Ericka

She took great care in writing these words and felt deeply they reflected the affection she was feeling. She put the photos in an envelope, sealed and stamped it and put it next to the door. She then went into the closet, got one of Mikes long black trench coats, put it on wrapping in securely around her nakedness, took the letter and left to walk to the mail box before the mailman got there. The morning air was wet and fresh and she briefly considered opening her coat to take it all in.
Putting the letter into the outgoing mail slot she became overwhelmed with a feeling of fatigue and a sudden headache. She noticed her hand was shaking. The walk back to her apartment she felt a black fatigue growing in her.
Back in the apartment she filled a glass of water and rose it to her lips, but it seemed warm and disgusting. She let the coat fall from her back and walked over to the bed and curled up and felt more lonely than she’d ever felt before. A dark deep feeling came over her. She curled into a fetal position and felt her heart beat in her chest. The idea of crying came to her head, but she didn’t. She just frowned intensely and thought about ridiculously alone she was. Her mind went over the inventory of the apartment, considering a way out. There was nothing to kill herself with. There was enough money to escape, but she couldn’t think to where. She wished Mike would call. She didn’t know what she wished.
She lay rigidly tense before slowly drifting into a shallow sleep.


Mandy burst in with out knocking. Ericka sat up with a start, unsure if the intruder was real or another lucid dream. Ericka sat up in bed and squinted through the morning eye much at Mandy. She had a box and was unpacking it in the kitchen. Ericka got up and walked into the bathroom to pee without closing the door, still nude. She came out again and fell into the bed. Foreign noises came from the kitchen.
“Brought you my old coffee maker. I brought some other stuff too,” Mandy said making more noise in the kitchen. Ericka drifted back to sleep, a heavier trance than she’d had all night. She was soon awoken by Mandy. “They came out all right. It seems as if some are missing.” Mandy was now cross legged sitting amongst the grid of photographs Ericka made.
“I had a rough night last night,” said Ericka, offering more information than usual.
Mandy looked up. “Yeah? How so?”
Ericka was quiet for a while not wanting to mention the Meth. But she’d had dark scary nights before so it couldn’t all be chalked up to the Meth. “I thought I was going nuts last night, I don’t know why.”
“Did you cut yourself?” asked Mandy mater of factly.
“No.”
“Good. I would have kicked your fucking ass. You know we do both have phones. Call me. I’ll steal one of my mother’s Ambien and come over and drug you.” Mandy was idly adjusting the grid in a sleepy way. “I don’t mean to sound wishy washy about it. I know what your talking about Danny would do that.”
“What?”
“Freak out at night. Talk about death and cry. Sometimes we’d drive. We’d figure something out to take his mind off it. I’m serious, Ericka call me. I’m here. My brother used to call me all the time when he was stuck or scared. I don’t know anything but it helps to ramble at someone. I hate my job. Is the diner hiring?”
“No,” Ericka lied. The diner was hiring, but the day shift. She wasn’t sure why she lied.
“I brought pictures,” said Mandy now looking a little bashful.
“I need to get dressed,” said Ericka with the sheet around her chest.
“I’ll make you a cup of coffee,” said Mandy and she went into the kitchen nook. “Wanna go somewhere today?”
“I gatta work,” said Ericka on her knees riffleing through her pile of clothes.
“I though you had Tuesdays off,” called Mandy.
Ericka stopped riffling for a moment and thought.” Oh yeah.” She slipped into a pair of jeans that were too small before she started working. Now they were snug. She opted against underware. “Is it hot out there?”
“No,” said Mandy returning with a cup of coffee in a foreign mug. Ericka looked at it briefly. It was an Army coffee cup. She sipped the coffee then put it down. She put on a long sleeve cotton shirt. “Let’s have a picnic or something,” said Mandy while moving Ericka’s cup so she wouldn’t knock it over.
“OK,” said Ericka. She wanted to go back to bed, but figured she could sleep around Mandy, sidestepping the need for conversation. Ericka put on hiking shoes with out socks and stood to indicate she was ready to leave. Mandy nodded and abandoned their coffee on the kitchen counter and they left.
Getting into Mandy’s van Ericka noticed Mandy had a shopping bag full of picnic things. Everything was prepackaged deli stuff from the super market with a tidy plastic sack of cutlery. This made Erica feel somewhat hijacked. It wasn’t too hot but it was muggy. The clock in Mandy’s dashboard read 4:30.
Mandy pulled out of the drive way. “Where do you wanna go?”
“I don’t know. I don’t want to go somewhere where there are picnics tables,” said Ericka, rubbing her eyes.
“You don’t?” Mandy smiled a little.
“No. I don’t want to be around people or kids or pickup trucks or anything like that. I wanna go to the beach,” said Ericka with a stubborn tone.
“The beach is a long way away,” said Mandy looking at Ericka as she stopped for light.
“I know. I’m just saying,” Ericka said looking out the window. They began to go over the freeway which was wide an congested with semi’s. The embankments on either side were covered with gentle yellow grass. The freeway stretched off to the horizon. “How bout here?”
“Here? OK,” said Mandy pulling over. “Where now?”
“Lets sit on the side of the freeway,” Ericka picked up the shopping bag and opened her car door. They had pulled over on a residential street one side of which was lined with old houses. There was no partition separating the street or pedestrians from the grass that slopped down to the freeway. Ericka plodded through the un-cut grass. There were cardboard makeshift beds where homeless had slept. One area all the grass was flattened where quite a few people had stayed at one point. The cars whooshed by like amplified ocean surf.
“I don’t wanna get stuck by anything,” said Mandy, kicking at the grass looking for needles before spreading out a blanket. Ericka was already sitting and unpacking the bag. At the bottom of the bag there was a cigar box. Mandy noticed her finding the box, “those are the pictures I told you about.”
Ericka opened the box and took one picture out. It was a dim shot of Mandy with a penis in her mouth. This unexpected image made Ericka laugh.
“Hey, I’d prefer to show you those myself,” said Mandy blushing and taking the box away.
“Wow, that was unexpected.” Ericka tried to act unfazed and spread the plastic containers of food on the blanket. She was very hungry. Mandy was putting things on a plate, but Ericka just put a fork in the cottage cheese and shoveled it into her mouth. She looked up to see Mandy’s mildly disapproving response to her eating choice. “Sorry,” Ericka said and prepared a plate.
“Danny was really bad. He’d call at 3 am when I lived at my mom’s. He’d be real quiet. I’d ramble to him and when I stopped he’d tell me to keep going. My mom told me to get off the phone so I’d go over to Danny’s or we’d meet at the park or something. The army was good for him. I don’t think I alone could keep up with it. I hope he comes back a little chilled out. So call me if that happens. I’m serious. I wont care.”
Ericka wasn’t listening. She was shoveling macaroni salad into her mouth. The taste was thick and artificial but she felt like she’d hadn’t tasted anything in a long time. With her left hand she picked up a chicken leg bone. The sunlight made her squint. A car honked on the freeway but she didn’t look up.
“Danny says in his letters he feels better, though. Were there some pictures missing? I thought I remembered taking more,” said Mandy adjusting on the blanket trying to look comfortable.
“I sent them,” Ericka said quietly.
“Already! Awesome. Mike will love it. Which ones? The ones I saw looked good. You are gorgeous you know.”
“I can’t remember. I look like a whore,” said Ericka still eating.
“You so do not. You look sensual. You look lovely. I look like a bonny Meth addict.” Mandy stopped eating and was looking at the cars. “we probably look like Meth addicts sitting here.”
“I don’t care,” a piece of chicken fell out of Ericka’s mouth.
“I mean I like it here. I don’t care either. It’s like the beach in a weird way.” Mandy tried to lay on her side, then sat up. “We should go to the beach. I haven’t been in forever. Danny and I went on our honey moon. We went to Coos Bay and stayed in a hotel. We didn’t go to the beach much cause it was always raining but we found things to do. Let’s go next Tuesday. I’m serious.”
“Sure,” said Ericka swallowing hard and opening a can of generic grapefruit soda and inhaling it. This stopped her eating momentum. Her eyes watered a little and she fell back on the blanket tired. She rested her forearm over her eyes to block the sun.
“We could drive down hwy. 101 for a while. Eat taffy and stuff. It’ll be fun. I’ll teach you to drive. You wanna do that?” Mandy began to close the lids on the uneaten food.
“Ya,” said Ericka in a low tone to indicate she wanted to nap. The sun felt nice warming her clothes, then her body. She quickly felt herself slipping into a nap. She heard Mandy rustling around on the blanket. She imagined or dreamt that she was still talking or maybe singing. She imagined swimming In the cold Oregon surf. She liked to swim in her clothes. It made her less cold and insecure about her body. Her and Mike swam at all the local lakes. They’d make love in the water, which was a bit uncomfortable as the water washed away the lubrication. She loved it anyway.
Mike would become such a beast. He was always in control of everything except when they made love. He still initiated everything but for the time they made love he seemed out of control. He’d do strange things, but Ericka didn’t mind any of it. One time when driving back late from Bear Ridge, he unzipped is pants. This was unexpected because they had just made love in the woods a few minutes earlier. He just resented it and continued to drive. Ericka leaned over and put it in her mouth. It tasted like her vagina, which always made her cringe a little. She worried about kissing him when he had been eating her out. He liked it but it made her cringe. They had been drinking and Ericka was drunker than Mike. The angle was tough as she had to lean over the gear shift in his car. She remembered feeling her breast scrunched on the emergency brake. She held his penis for a long time with out sucking or moving for a while. It was comforting in a strange way. She felt like she could fall asleep there with it in her mouth. Mike’s free hand slipped down the back of her pants, but at that angle he couldn’t reach anything. He just gripped one of her but checks. Mike began to flex his penis in her mouth, but she still didn’t move. It was a long drive and she must have been like that for a while. She could feel Mike’s heart beating faster and he flexed his penis more. She then raised her head a little so she had less of his penis in her mouth. She slowly tongued the head of his penis. She wanted to prolong that silent desire.
She remember it was really that silent desire that was so nice. Mike could be so noisy, between his music, swearing and yelling. But when they made love it was always so quiet. The only noises were the ones their body made. She could feel him strain with his butt to put more of his penis in, but she backed off. She held it in her mouth longer, until he began to shake a little. Then she took the whole thing in very slowly, pushing her face against his hard metal fly zipper. She sucked hard as she puled her head off, then pushed her head down again and he came, a shuddering violent orgasm. She felt the car accelerate a great deal but she kept going. They had made love several times that day so there wasn’t much seamen. He lifted his foot off the gas in a protective curled up position. She looked up at him and his face was contorted. She looked out at the road just as they drove off into the gravel on a turn.
Ericka snapped awake and sat up. She realized she had kicked Mandy. She rubbed her eyes and felt the overwhelming sensation of having to pee.
“Did you dream you were falling?” asked Mandy. She had cleared the blanket had the contents of her cigar box spread out. Ericka stood and walked back to the van.
There was no where to pee, so she peed on the side of the van facing away from the houses, leaning against the hot metal. The sky seemed darker. Dusk was either coming earlier and earlier or she had slept for a long time. She zipped up her pants and felt very refreshed. She plodded back through the grass to Mandy.
“How long was I asleep?” she asked while sitting next her.
“Bout an hour. How do you feel?”
“A lot better. I don’t think I had eaten in a while,” Said Ericka rubbing her face again.
“I could tell, you got food all over your face,” said Mandy. She then smiled and sucked on a corner of her shirt and took it and wiped Ericka face. “I’ve always wanted to do this,” she said cleaning her face. Twisted motherly impulse. That’s better. So. These are the pictures. We’re gonna start with the less... raunchy and work our way there.”
Mandy handed Ericka a shot of Mandy standing in the rain, soaked through. He eye make-up ran and you could see her bra under her shirt. Mandy was quite flat, it seemed. “Danny took a copy of that one Iraq with him. Said it was one of his favorites. It reminds me of you, actually. I used to hate it. I guess it’s OK now.” Mandy then handed Ericka picture of Mandy sitting in the passenger side of a car. It was night and the car was illuminated by the camera’s flash. Mandy had unbuttoned her shirt and was showing one small breast. You could see a rib under it. “We were cruising and I was pretty high. I only show it cause it’s the first picture he took of me naked at all.”
A car honked on the freeway making Mandy momentarily hide the photos. She then smiled. “He then convinced me to let him take nudes of me. These were the first. We really didn’t know what we were doing.” Mandy was splayed on a bed looking anxious. She had very little pubic hair which made Ericka think of her own. She kind worried she had too much. Ericka didn’t like Mandy’s exposed pelvic bone. It seemed too harsh a feature.
“You should eat more,” remarked Ericka.
“Believe me, I’ve gained weight since then.” Mandy then took a stack of about five pictures, then almost handed them to Ericka, “I have to explain these. We were both very very drunk. He was trying to get us both in the shot by using the timer thing.” The next photos had Danny naked and Mandy mostly off frame. Danny had a meaty body and a hairy penis. He had his socks on and he was leaning towards Mandy’s body. As the photo series progressed you could tell they were making love, but only half of them were in the shot.
“We got it right this time, but they’re dark now,” said Mandy handing her more photos which depicted Danny on top of Mandy. In one shot Mandy looked concerned at the camera. “Those aren’t too good.
“They’re OK,” said Ericka a little overwhelmed.
“I like these. They’re my favorite. We did these camping.” The next series were composed odd. Danny was holding the camera while on top of Mandy. One shot showed Mandy’s face very clearly and closely. Her cheeks were red and her eyes were closed. Ericka though about how detached she felt making love. She wondered if Mandy felt the same way. “That’s about the time I went on the pill. We really went at it then. He changed the way he did it. That’s when I started... to have an orgasm. I can’t believe were doing this.”
Ericka looked at Mandy as she inspected the photos before handing them to her. She was wearing her choker again which seemed to make her different than in the photos. The summer sun had given her a lot of freckles too. Mandy had a slightly upturned nose.
“What kind of camera did you guys use?” Asked Ericka.
“Danny has a neat one. You can either use it in professional photographer way or as an automatic. He took it with him to Iraq but he wrote he cant send pictures for some reason.”
“We should take pictures of each other. Not dirty ones, but like glamour shots,” said Ericka.
“Yeah, that’d be fun. These ones Danny was getting more artistic. I like them more cause I was afraid he was just into porn or something. They’re kinda corny. Those are flower pedals. The funny thing is they’re plastic,” said Mandy, pointing them out with a slightly shaky finger. The colors of the petals were harsh and her skin seemed gray. Mandy’s nipples seemed to invert slightly. Ericka brought the picture to her face to look closer. Mandy suddenly quite violently slapped Ericka’s leg. “Bug, sorry.”
Ericka shifted her weight as one of her legs was falling asleep. “I can’t look at many more of these. Sorry, but it’s... ya know.”
“OK, I know. I’m not weird am I?” Mandy said quickly putting the photo’s away.”
“No, not at all. I’m serious. They’re awesome. I just can’t look at people fuck very long. They’re beautiful. Let’s go see a movie or something. It’s my day off. I want to get drunk, let’s get out of here.” Ericka stood. The sun was low and the wind was getting chilly. Down the freeway a bit there was the overpass they had crossed earlier. She noticed a persons silhouette under it. Beyond him the cars stretch out of Medford North towards the mountains.
“I wonder what Iraq is like,” said Mandy folding the blanket.

They rolled into the back parking lot of the liquor store. Mandy had no fake ID so they had to be discrete. The adjoining building was the offices of a car sales lot, which had closed down some years earlier than burned down. In the shadow of the liquor store, Ericka could make out several boys holding skateboards and smoking. This un-nerved her, as she remembered Mike shoulder tapping before he had got them both fake ID’s. It was an awkward process often involving breathless terrified escapes from cops.
“I don’t know, what do you want?” Mandy deferred. She had wanted to se a movie, and the only way Ericka would agree was on the terms they’d get drunk first. Ericka had the vague desire to intoxicate Mandy more than she was used to.
“Tequila,” Ericka stated and left the van. She looked at her feet hoping to avoid a conversation with one of the boys. Just as she was hoping she was safely past, one ran along beside her.
“Hey, can you buy us a bottle?” Ericka hesitated. She should have kept walking. Her stopping caused two other guys to come over. “Come on,” they were her age, maybe a little older. She was happy she didn’t know them.
“What do you want?” she said with an air of expertise she herself wasn’t expecting.
“Vodka. Half gallon,’ the first boy said while putting a twenty in her hand.
Ericka walked on. She walked around front of the liquor store and went in. A man looked up from clipboard and did not smile. Ericka walked confidently up to the vodka’s and got the cheapest half gallon she could find. She then got a fifth of Tequila for her and Mandy. She brought them to the register and looked impatiently at the clerk. He slowly made his way over to her. Then with out a word made a sloppy hand signal to signify he wanted to see her ID. She produced it and he scrutinized it for a while. She made an impatient sigh which to her surprise caused him to hand it back and continue with the transaction.
When Ericka made it back around to the back of the store she was surprised to not see the boys. She suspiciously quickened her pace and hoped in the van. The distinct odor of pot greeted her as she plopped right into the lap of one of the boys.
“Hi,” he said.
“Ericka, this is Andy, Bill and Drew. Andy is sitting up front because there’s no seats.”
“Hi, I’m Bill,” said Bill.
“High Bill,” said Ericka, flustered. Mandy was grinning like an idiot.
“We’re invited to a party,” said Mandy.
“Your invited,” said Bill.
Ericka closed the van door and settled in to Bills lap. He smelled like cigarettes and sweat. His hands were straight and to his side, which she appreciated. ”Let’s go,” she said.
It was an other box house at the end of another street Ericka had never been on. The headlights illuminated the porch where there was a bunch of boys in black hoodies smoking. “Whose house is this?” Ericka asked.
“Uhhh,” said Bill and the other boys in the car laughed.
Mandy parked the car and they wandered in side. There was loud music and boys with cheep beer cans laughing. Ericka saw a kid leaving a bathroom adjoining the living room and she drug Mandy into it, carrying their tequila bottle. Once the door was closed Ericka opened the bottle and took a big drink, then chased it with water from the sink. Mandy followed. Ericka noticed her eyes were very red. Ericka grabbed her shoulders and looked into her eyes. “Your fucked up.”
Opening the door, the smells of the party rushed in. The liquor made Ericka feel a little crazy. She was glad she wasn’t stoned. She decided to talk to the next person she saw, abandoning Mandy.
“Whose house is this?” she asked a kid leaning against a wall.
“I think it’s some one’s boss. I’m not sure,” the kid said.
“What do you do?” Asked Ericka, squinting a little at him.
“Nothing,” he said.
Ericka walked to the next person she saw. This was a kid rummaging through a pile of CD’s. “What are you looking for?” she asked.
“Oh, a CD,” the kid said.
This disgusted Ericka so she moved on. She made her way to a kitchen, where conversations were more audible. Two boys were engaged in a conversation of sorts, one said to the other, ‘No fucking way.”
“What? What are you talking about?” asked Ericka.
“Oh. Somebody we know.”
“Oh? What about them.”
“He wrecked his car.”
“Really? How?”
“He hit someone at a light,” there followed a lull as the two boys fondled their beers. Ericka nodded and walked on. She had the fifth tucked in her belt above her butt. She felt armed. She continued out back where a few girls were smoking and disagreeing about something. Ericka listened for a minute, but couldn’t find anything to say. She drank from her bottle, and the girls looked at her. She walked back in the building. A guy was leaning into Mandy, who was grinning and looking into a beer someone had given her. Ericka watched this for a while. She had some passing evil thoughts about reminding Mandy she was married, but decided against it. Then the guy reached out and touched Mandy’s necklace, which made Mandy’s eyes very wide. She looked around in a mild panic, making eye contact with Ericka. Ericka smiled as Mandy walked over to her abruptly ending the conversation with the guy.
“Ericka, I’m really messed up,” Mandy said with a look of concern in her eye.
“Lets stay a little while longer,” said Ericka, drinking from her bottle. It intrigued her that people would look at her when she drank from that bottle. She wondered if she held it up above her head their eyes would follow it. “Who are these people?”
“We know some of them,” said Mandy with unfocused eyes. “We went to high school with them.
“We did? Jesus. Do they know me?” asked Ericka.
“Yeah, well, somebody asked why you were snobby. That was funny.”
“Who? Who said that,” said Ericka eyeing the people in the room. “Let’s get the fuck up out of here.”
“Ericka, I’m way too fucked up to drive,” Mandy said, holding on to Ericka’s sleeve. “Can we wait?”
At that moment the guy Ericka rescued Mandy from wandered up. He said, “Umm,” as if to lead into a thought or proposition, but before he could finish, Mandy led Ericka by the sleeve out to the van. Mandy got into the drivers seat and Ericka got into the passenger’s side. Mandy sat silently for a second, collecting herself. She took a deep breath and put the gear selector in Reverse and eased off the break. The car did not move causing her to throw her head back to see if she’d hit anything. Then she laughed.
“No key. Hey, want to learn to drive?” Mandy looked blankly at Ericka for a second, then half stood in her seat so she could get her keys out of her pocket. Ericka shrugged and Mandy handed the keys to her, then opened the car door. Ericka took her brief absence as an excuse to drink more. Mandy walked around the car and got in the passenger side as Ericka crawled over to the driver’s seat, shaking her butt as she climbed.
Mandy positioned herself in the seat so she was facing Ericka. “OK. Listen. Are you listening? It’s simple. I learned like this. Mom got drunk. OK. Put it in drive and go. OK?”
“Do you mean reverse?”
“Yes, when you want to go backwards.”
Ericka pulled the shifter into reverse and looked behind her. The brake light was illuminating the neighbors mail box. She didn’t feel the car move so she tapped the gas and the van rapidly accelerated, making Mandy scream. She quickly recovered and sort of maniacally laughed. Ericka put the van in drive and slowly accelerated down the street.
There had been many times Mike had pulled out of a party deadly silent, which was a que to his level of intoxication. A silent Mike meant he was drunk. And he always insisted on driving. He would set his stereo to a sinisterly low volume and calmly drive. Ericka would watch him very closely. He would be watching the road, he would see the stop light, but somehow the process wouldn’t register and he’d pass right by it. She seldom corrected him unless they were in real danger, which seemed funny. Did she think he’d abandon him?
Ericka stopped successfully at a stop sign and accelerated. She felt the momentum of the vehicle push her into the seat. It gave her goose bumps. She noticed her own face in the rear view mirror. It seemed strange as the passing lights defined it in shadow.
“God. What the hell was that? I was talking to that idiot. I was really talking to him. Danny would have shit. I feel so guilty...” Mandy continued to babble and Ericka was happy she could blot her voice out. She’d seen so many people drive, and monitored their ability in lew of any other way to occupy her mind when she was an awkward passenger. Her mother she remembered accelerated after turns. The few times they went to Portland, she remembered her mother handling corners of the mountain freeway. Ericka would see the drop-offs at either side of the road and worry for their safety, picturing the tires loosing traction and their violent decent down the mountain side. But her mother would always silently safely guide them home.
Feeling a little more relaxed Ericka tried to turn the radio on, but failed as when she looked down, she swerved, almost hitting parked cars. After several attempts, Mandy noticed what was happening and turned the radio on for her.
“Democrats deplored the action as an obvious media campaign to win support for the President. Landing in the fighter wearing a flight jacket, he then gave a speech declaring an end to combat in Iraq to the cheering crowds. The death toll to date in Iraq has topped...”
Ericka took an open hand and wiped the buttons on the stereo until the station changed.
“I hate this,” Mandy said, here head flopping with the movements of the car.
“Let’s go home,” said Ericka, somewhat deflated.
The passing street laps illuminated Mandy’s profile and necklace. By the time they’d reached Ericka’s apartment, Mandy was asleep. Ericka fumbled with the shifter, then in an attempt at turning the car off she spun the starter, causing Mandy to jolt. Ericka executed Mandy to babble as she helped her up the stairs, but Mandy was quiet. The apartment greeted them with stale air as they stumbled in. Ericka guided Mandy to the bed. Ericka then took her bottle and sat in a corner at the far end of the room. In the diffused over head light, Ericka could see Mandy’s eyes, and she was crying. After a few minutes, she closed her eyes and her breathing became slow. Ericka sat and drank the rest of the fifth in silence and fell asleep sitting up.

Some days passed and Ericka became lost in her diner routine. The summer heat waned and midnight traffic at the diner was sparse. George and her passed the hours flirting, although Ericka avoided snorting his powder, remembering the hollow feeling it left her with. Ericka had heard nothing in response to the pictures she had sent Mike, which made her happy. She assumed his silence reflected his contentment.
It was 5:30 am and Ericka was preparing to go home after a long shift. The sun was trying to rise, but an overcast sky obscured it. As Ericka bussed a table she saw Mandy’s van pull into the parking lot. Mandy got out and ran into the diner.
Ericka walked to meet her, her ears turning red. She felt her heart race as well.
“Brian is in jail,” Mandy said, not sitting down at her usual spot at the encounter, just looming behind it.
“Who’s Brian?” Ericka said relieved.
“My brother,” Mandy seemed not to blink. Her hair was un-combed and she wasn’t wearing makeup. “Manslaughter. He killed someone on Meth. On accident. He was driving... or something. He’s being arraigned in Portland today at 4pm. I’m leaving now. Will you come with me?”
Ericka looked at the empty diner, then thought about sleeping. She had some money from a table of truckers she wasn’t sure she what was going to spend it on. She considered refusing, then looked at Mandy. Her eyes were swollen. She supposed she could call in sick. Or not show up. She walked over to the kitchen window where George was doing prep work for the breakfast rush.
“I don’t feel good, I’m ill. I wont be here tomorrow,” her face was red, feeling as if it were the first time she had lied.
“That’s too bad. Don’t lick toilet seats anymore. Go home, there’s Angela,” and he pointed to where the first breakfast waitress had walked in. Ericka grabbed her wallet from under the counter, dropped off her order book, register key and brushed by Angela.
“I’m going to puke. I’m going home,” she said as she walked out the door with Mandy. They got in her van.
Mandy hadn’t turned the car off so she just put the car in gear and backed out of the parking lot. Traffic was light on the freeway out of Medford. The sky over Table Rock was bland. The fields were tilled and gray. The freeway was gray. Mandy silent stared at the road. Ericka balled up a coat she found laying on the floor, tucked in under her head and quickly fell asleep.
Mike was somewhere in Medford and she needed to find him. She left her apartment and walked into the street. There were crowds of people standing on the highway. She walked up to them to ask them about Mike, but found her tongue heavy and useless. She tried to tap a man on the shoulder, but her arm was numb as if she had slept on it.
Mandy came out of a bar laughing and motioned for her to follow. She turned a corner and Ericka followed. When Ericka rounded the corner she saw Mandy was already in her van. Ericka tried to open the door but it was locked. Mandy was looking the other way and Ericka couldn’t make a fist to knock on the glass. Ericka looked up to see a stoplight turning green and the van pulled away. A car honked at her as she was standing in the middle of the road. She tried to run out of the way, but became confused and ran forward still in the path of the vehicle. She turned and saw she was in an intersection in the path of another car, baring down to her left.
A man leaned out his window and said something about Mike, but Ericka couldn’t hear it. She walked towards the Fred Meyer Parking lot and came across Mandy, loading groceries into the back of the van; gallons of milk, bottles of wine, carton after carton of eggs. She motioned for Ericka to drive and got in the back of the van. Ericka got in the front, but found the peddles difficult to operate without shoes. Ericka got the car driving in the parking lot, but couldn’t find the way out. Every path was obscured by hedges and a curb. Looking in the rearview mirror she saw Mandy was masturbating laying amongst the food. Ericka tried to watch the road, but found it difficult. Frustrated she drove the van over a curb and back onto the road.
Mandy’s hands reached around the back of the seat and unbuttoned Ericka’s pants. She slipped her fingers deep into her vagina, causing Ericka to roll to a stop. Mandy’s hand forced Ericka’s now naked legs wide as she caressed her. As Ericka climaxed she noticed the police car with it’s lights on behind them and a cop slowly walking towards them. Mandy demanded Ericka to drive from the seat next to her. She then said it was imperative she found Mike soon. Ericka tried to tell her she didn’t know where she was. Mandy called her a slut which made Ericka cry.
Suddenly they were stopped at the house of the party where Mike had proposed. Mandy was walking up the steps and Ericka rushed to follow, only now with out pants. She tried to pull her hoodie down to cover herself. The house was full of people who were talking to each other. Ericka tried to act normal, half naked and walked into the kitchen where Mandy was cooking with all the items she had bought at the store.
She had all the counter space filled with containers of milk and eggs. She was rubbing a chicken with oil, and said the smell of Ericka’s vagina on her fingers made the flavor better. This made Ericka ashamed. Mandy asked her to assist her by cracking eggs into the boiling pot. This required Ericka to allow her shirt to ride up and expose the lower half of her body. The pot was large and boiling over. Ericka took each egg and cracked in on the edge of the stove, then opened it and let the contents fall into the pot. One egg broke in her hands and fell on her feet. Mandy began to push her chicken on to the stove top, causing the pot to slide towards her. Ericka tried to warn Mandy but couldn’t sleep and the pot toppled and poured onto her naked lower half.
Ericka jolted up in the car.
“You’re dreaming,” Mandy said, turning to look at her. She was wearing sunglasses and looked strange. She looked too long and the car veered slightly towards the medium. She sharply turned the wheel back to course. “Sorry. What were you dreaming about?”
Ericka looked down at her feet, then at Mandy’s naked knees. “I can’t remember. Where are we?”
“I was about to pull over. We’re near Eugene. I want to eat. Are you hungry?”
Mandy maneuvered amongst the traffic towards an exit where there towered a Denny’s sign. She pulled into the driveway, took off her glasses then looked shocked.
“What?” Ericka asked.
“I don’t have my purse. Shit. I left in a panic. Oh my God.”
“That’s fine, I have money. I have been saving up.”
“But gas and food and...”
“I’m serious. I have enough.” The world seemed confused like how it seemed when she was hung over. The overcast sky revealed no clue as to the time of day. Ericka felt the roll of money in her pocket and felt impatient. “Come on,” she said exiting the van.
“I’ll pay you back,” Mandy said scampering to keep up.
“Shut up.”
They took a booth overlooking a bend in the freeway. Ericka was still half asleep and stared at the silverware as Mandy chewed on her fingernails. Then Ericka examined the coffee cups. “This crap is filthy.”
“I was going to pay for a hotel in Portland. I’m such and idiot.”
Ericka noticed the jam tray was sticky, “filthy.”
They waited for some time until a waitress finally appeared. Ericka scrutinized her face as she approached. She had the suspicion the waitress had tagged them as non tippers and Ericka decided she was going to deduct one dollar from a twenty dollar tip for every prejudice she perceived. As the waitress wordlessly handed them menus, she deducted two dollars.
“What’s good?” Mandy posed as an open question, unanswered by the waitress. Minus one.
“May I have some water?” Ericka asked garnishing a weak nod. Minus one.
“Does this have cheese in it?” Mandy pointed at a picture. The waitress nodded without offering to modify. Minus one.
“I want a lot of eggs.” Ericka said, closing her menu.
“Side of eggs,” said the waitress.
“A lot. A plate full. Please.” Ericka said, turning her focus back to the freeway.
“Two sides of eggs,” said the waitress a little louder.
“A lot. Fill a plate.” Ericka continued to look at the freeway.
“I don’t know what you mean,” said the waitress, then punctuated the statement with, “honey.”
Ericka slowly turned around. She stared at the waitress for a moment. She felt maybe she was still dreaming so she rubbed her eyes for a moment. “I want a plate full of scrambled eggs.”
“We have sides of eggs that come on a side dish, is that what you want honey?”
“I want a full dish of eggs. Ask the chef to make a lot of fucking eggs and put them on a fucking plate or maybe you need me to god damn do it. Do you need me to get up and make my own fucking plate of eggs? Is it that fucking hard to make scrambled eggs?” This she said through clenched teeth.
“That’s a lot of eggs...”
“Well lay them yourself, bitch.” Ericka noticed Mandy was crying. “What do you want?” Mandy slid out of the booth and ran for the door. Ericka slowly followed her, her heart pumping in her ears. Mandy was leaning against her van. “I’m not sorry. She had it coming.” Mandy didn’t look up. “I am sorry to you, not to her. I know your just hungry and what ever.” Mandy took a deep shuddering breath and looked away down the freeway. “I am sorry, Mandy.”
Mandy turned and looked at her with red eyes. “Your fucking crazy,” she said and betrayed a small giggled.
“I’m just a little tired or something. Or maybe asleep still. I promise. Let’s go through a drive through. I wont get into trouble there,” Ericka said, kicking a rock.
“Can you drive?” Mandy said, putting the keys in Ericka’s hand.
“I guess. I’ve never been on a freeway.”
They got the gas and Mcdonalds food in an uneasy silence, both aware of every possible provocation to Ericka’s new mood. When the voice over the intercom at the McDonalds drive through asked if they wanted an apple pie with their order, Mandy began to laugh. Ericka smiled and said, “No.”
The coffee mixed well with the speed of the freeway and Ericka was exhilarated. Mandy soon fell asleep, her mouth open. She wasn’t wearing any ear rings. With Mandy asleep she felt bolder about her driving, passing trucks and boldly recovering from mistakes. She quickly found her biggest difficulty was judging cars slowing ahead, making it necessary to slam on the brakes a few times. But this didn’t wake Mandy and she soon learned to change lanes in these situations. Slowly, she turned the stereo on, then eased up the volume, watching Mandy’s face closely, fearing waking her. When she finally thought she had made the radio too loud, she realized the noise Mandy was making was not a protest, but a snore. A country song she had never heard before came on, and she loved it.
She passed pulled over cars with officers slowly walking to the drivers side windows, old couples in sedans stoically staring at the horizon they seemed to be chasing, young boisterous cars full of kids. If she craned her neck she could see truckers smoking cigars wearing mesh hats as the passed above. It was all the clientele from her diner in glorious forward motion, as they were meant to be. In the diner they were inert and out their element. The diner seats fit them as well as her own uniform did.
The song she was listening to ended and a DJ came on. The station was out of Portland. “I am live at the Pro America rally here on the banks of the Willamette river here In Portland, Oregon. Things have been peaceful as we’ve turned out in droves to pay our respect to out boys abroad fighting for us. We got an oldie by Merle Haggard here for ya on KGYN Killer Country.
Ericka didn’t imagine the city would be pro war, but with this encouragement, the prospect of going there became better. She imagined having to be ashamed of her husband should he come up in conversation. The road side scenery bled from farms to suburbs and the traffic increased. The thrill of speed abated to a congested crawl as exit signs became more numerous and off ramps more elaborate and multi-laned. She considered waking Mandy up, but then again felt affection towards her sleeping corpse.
At a merging intersection Ericka got honked at and that woke Mandy. “Are we in Portland yet?” she said.
“I think so,” said Ericka, hunched forward squinting at the traffic.
“I wonder why there’s so much traffic at noon.” Mandy said, stretching, revealing her belly which Ericka noticed had a stud in it.
“When did you get that?” Ericka said, frowning.
“Watch out,” cried Ericka pointing ahead at a stopped car.
Ericka slammed on the break in time, but the momentum made her outstretched arm punch Mandy’s hard gut. “Sorry,” she said.
“It’s OK, Be careful. I hate driving in the city.” Mandy said timidly watching the road.
“When did you get that?” Ericka reinterated.
“What, this ring? Few days ago at the mall. Do you like it?”
“Yeah. I want one,” said Ericka, then she remembered her own belly which she did not like as much. It wasn’t as hard as Mandy’s. “Maybe if I lose weight.
“Oh shut up. You’re so hot. You have to do something kinky for when Mike returns.”
“Look a this,” said Ericka, grabbing her tummy.
“That’s because your sitting down. I can grab flab sitting down,” said Mandy as she demonstrated, her shirt tucked under her chin.
Ericka though for a second, then took her foot on the petals and straightened her body in the car and grabbed her tummy. Mandy was right.
“You’re crazy today. I think I’d go crazy if you weren’t here. City center. Follow that one.” Ericka had to veer through several lanes, and cut across the white line of the exit, but she made it only being honked at a few times. Mandy flipped them off. They both squinted at street signs once the freeway ended, looking for some sign of a court house. There were a large amount of black swat team trucks driving slowly around. The buildings grew taller and the roads more narrow the deeper into the city they went.
“Lets stop and ask for directions,” Mandy said pointing at a hotel with a large old neon sign. Ericka complied and pulled in. She didn’t stop the van in time and stuck the concrete bumper in front of her.
“I meant to do that,” Ericka said, taking the keys and getting out of the car. Mandy paused and stretched, again revealing her belly stud. Ericka pushed open the first door she found, and realized she was in a dark tiki bar. Mandy stumbled in after her as the three men sitting at the bar slowly looked up, then slowly looked down again. They stood there for a second, then a small Asian man came from Behind the bar.
“Hello ladies. Welcome. Do you wish to eat?”
Ericka looked at Mandy, then said “Yes.”
“Very good, come this way. What to drink?
Ericka hesitated. She put her hand in her pocket and felt her roll of money. Mandy was looking at her feet. “What are they having?” she said gesturing at the men at the bar.
“A shot and a beer,” the waiter said.
“Get everyone a round,” Ericka said. Then men slowly looked up, then raised their glasses.
One of them men mumbled, “Buying influence. Ridiculous.”
Ericka and Mandy sat in the dark tiki booth. Mandy fumbled with the salt shaker. Ericka snorted a little and stretched out in the booth with one eye on the bartender. Mandy looked older in the dim red light of the bar. Somehow the place felt safe, though.
“Here you are,” the waiter said, placing the drinks on the counter. “I will keep your tab open.”
Ericka appreciated this mans service technique. She goaded Mandy, “Come on. No reason to be sad all day.” Ericka downed her shot of whiskey, which made some of her McDonalds coffee return to her mouth. She followed it with her beer and felt completely better. Mandy managed half her shot, looked thoughtful for a moment, then stood and calmly walked toward the bathroom. Ericka considered following her as she knew she was throwing up, but thought better of it. Throwing up is best left a lonely moment.
Mandy returned and dabbed her mouth with a napkin. Ericka smiled. “Drink your beer, you’ll feel better.” Mandy complied, which surprised Ericka. Ericka surveyed the dim neon beer signs of the bar. She’d briefly forgotten what brought them there, as her own mood was so good. The whiskey was warming her cheeks and breasts and she felt like having another. “What do you want to eat? It’s on me,” but Mandy only grimaced. Ericka braced her back against the wall of the booth to get a better view of the room. She put her feet up on the seat and propped her back against the wall. Her pose was close and defensive at first, then loose and open.
The waiter returned, “Have you made up your mind?”
“Another round and menus, please,” Ericka saw Mandy fumbling with a cocktail napkin and was annoyed. “Come on, you can’t face this and not drunk.” The waiter returned with menus and two colorful drinks.
“The gentleman at the bar ordered these for you.” Ericka looked up to notice the men leaving. One waved. “Long Island Ice teas.” Ericka waved back. “They thought these perhaps would make your friend happier.” Ericka blushed knowing they knew Mandy threw up. She was suspicious of the drinks. Ericka ordered a lunch special; Mandy nothing. Briefly Mandy made eye contact with Ericka, trying to tell her she was miserable. Nervously she sucked on her drink. It must have washed the taste of vomit away, as she quickly finished it.
The waiter returned with a dish. “How do you ladies like your drinks? They are very strong,” Ericka noticed his collar was open and he wore a gold chain. She picked up her drink and sucked on the straw mightily, then said, “they are very good. Two more.”
Ericka shoveled her mouth full of fried rice and thought absolutely nothing. She must have eaten for several solid minutes before looking up and realizing Mandy was crying. At first she ignored it, continuing to eat . Then she ate with anger welling up in her. She wondered what Mandy wanted, to leave? Where the hell would they go?
When the waiter returned she said, “The food was good. Where is the court house?”
“You want to go to the court house? Today?” the waiter said.
“Yes. Why do you ask?”
“You don’t look like the type.” He said.
“What type?” Ericka asked.
“You going to the protest?” He said as he began to clear the plates away.
“What protest?” Ericka asked innocently as she sucked on her drink.
“They are protesting the war. Should be crazy. Last time they done that people got arrested and property got destroyed.”
“They are?” Ericka thought of the radio broadcast she heard on the country station. They hadn’t mentioned any other rally. “Well, fuck ‘em.”
“I think so,” the waiter agreed with apt strange grammar, leaving the check then leaving through a door behind the bar.
Ericka drank the last of both their drinks, paid entirely too much and stood as if to leave. Mandy was staring at the table. Ericka sighed a little, then went and sat next to her. “Come on, lets get it all over with.” Mandy nodded with out looking up and they both slid out of the booth then out the door into the overwhelming early afternoon light. Cars whooshed past on the street. Ericka felt briefly too drunk to drive, then quickly very possessive over the keys. She got into the driver’s side without conferring with Mandy who seemed fine with the arrangement anyway.
Pulling out into the street, all the different vehicle’s different speeds were exhilarating. The ratio of the control she had of their own vans placement in all the movement as to the pressure she put on the pedal was a wonderful abstraction. Ericka was thuraly lost, but as she was on a narrow street, she found things to do to keep herself occupied instead about worrying about their destination. She found it fun to pull even with people at the lights, then pull ahead of them.
At one light in particular, she was fooled. She was racing to pass the last person she had met at a light and noticed the next light was green. But traffic was stopped in the middle of the road. She had to slam on the brakes to keep from hitting the stopped car. The light turned back to red again. Ericka impatiently drummed her fingers on the steering wheel, nibbled at her lip for a while then turned on the radio. ‘Pay Back is Hell,’ was on. She adjusted the rear view mirror so she could see herself. Her eyes were red and her hair was a mess, but she kind of liked the affect.
“Ericka?” Mandy said, looking forward.
“What?” Mandy then pointed. The street had a slight downward slop to it. Ericka sat up to see over the car ahead. There was some kind of commotion ahead, she could see signs and heads. Then several figures entirely in black ran on either side of the van towards the commotion, drawing Ericka’s attention away from what was ahead. The black figures were all heavily armed. Movement ahead again brought her attention forward where more figures clad in black were closing in from either side ahead, on horseback. Ericka and Mandy sat stunned for a while as the radio moved onto an upbeat commercial for mattresses.
On an impulse Ericka popped the door open and stood in the street. Looking down the row of cars she saw about city block away a dark mass of people pouring into the streets from what seemed like everywhere. The police were invisible as the protesters too were clad in black. She turned around and saw cars were quickly filling in behind them, completely trapping them. On the streets as well as the side walk people were walking to the din ahead. As one person brushed against her, she caught their attention.
“Hey, where is the court house?” Ericka said in a commanding tone.
“Straight ahead, man.”
Ericka sat back in the car, drove it onto the adjoining curb, rolled up the windows. Mandy was staring at her. “Come on, let’s go.” Ericka got out of the car and waited for Mandy to exit, then locked the doors. Then Ericka noticed Mandy’s lost look so she took her hand and began to lead her down the street.

Ericka was startled by the massive statue reaching down at them. It was a nearly naked woman holding a trident reaching down as if to pluck them from the sea of people in black cotton hoodies. It was so strange it made her smile and look at Mandy who made mild protests against their forward momentum by tugging against her arm. Mandy did not notice the looming statue.
People held effigies, signs scrawled in spraypaint, barely legible. There were women, topless even. Men wore black masks over their faces. There were smiles and twisted grimaces. Fists were raised, babies were crying. It all made Ericka beam, the kind of smile one makes when one is surprised. Ericka looked back to confirm her memory of the statue. She could not see it briefly and she consigned it to myth, but it reappeared from behind a tree as the moved forward, astounding her all over again. Mandy tugged on her hoodie.
Mandy gestured towards a sign that was a kind of walking map guide of the city. Ericka’s eyes slowly focused, then read, ‘Courthouse, .2 miles South.’ She turned them in the right direction. They pushed through crowds, now coming in the opposite direction. Ericka felt mildly frightened she was loosing her mind being surrounded by all these strangely contorted rage filled faces. She looked down and Mandy who had somehow become numb to it all filling Ericka with a sense of purpose.
Not too far up the street they came across a grand colonnade. There was chalk and spray paint writing hastily scribbled about on the sidewalk and columns up to about 7 feet. Not quite sure which way to head, Ericka led Mandy right up the stairs. Pushing through revolving doors, they were greeted by a rush of air-conditioned cold and then stern glares from security running a check point.
“Mandy, I’m going to leave you here. Can you find your way around?”
“I think so.”
“I’m going to go look around. You find your brother and find out what you need to do. I will meet you here in four hours?”
“OK,” Mandy said and turned towards the guards. She looked back as Ericka turned to leave.

Although worried and somewhat guilty for having abandoned Mandy, Ericka non the less felt a sense of freedom not having that weight on her arm. She was surprised to see she didn’t stand out in the protesting crowd as much as she feared she would. Her black hoodie seemed almost to be a uniform for these people. And when these people openly smoke pot, she felt almost above them. These people held their pipes in an almost vulgar way, daring people to judge them. When Ericka had smoked with Mike, it was an after thought. They knew it was illegal, but they had restraint and etiquette when using it.
Picking streets that looked older and more quaint, Ericka roamed. The protest was everywhere. Delivery drivers honked at protesting pedestrians as they clogged streets. Shops closed and gawking office workers could been seen peering down from nearly every window.
The city seemed to stretch on and on. Home had a few main streets, but if one walked too many blocks in either direction, one would quickly find themselves free of the shops. Here, there was a multitude of foreign shops and cafes. She happened upon one book store that seemed odd, so she strode in. An older man leaned against the counter and watched her. It seemed to be an art book store. She saw a sign above one shelf that read, ‘loitering limit: 20 minutes.’ It’s seemed an odd rule as she had never spent much time in a book store. Idly she picked up what looked like a comic book bound as a novel. Randomly opening a page she immediately saw what looked like the rape of a school girl. The is made Ericka blush and quickly return the book. She quickly looked at the clerk, but his attention was out the window on the street again watching the protesters trudge towards where ever the epicenter of the protest was.
Ericka picked up another book in another section. It was by Anias Nin. Her mouth tried to form the correct sound of the name with out making a noise. Opening it randomly she quickly became engorged in a story about a man and a room full of birds he kept to tempt the interest of the adjoining school yard full of children. It had a lot of vague sexual innuendo and it kept her reading although she wasn’t sure what was going to happen. Ericka had been reading for some time when the bell above the shop door startled her and she looked up, remembering the loitering sign. Three young girls walked in, all wearing patched up black outfits and all covered in piercing. They talked loudly about what they had seen police men do to people as they randomly pulled out books and turned pages. Ericka could smell beer, cigarettes and sweat on them, which angered her.
“That’s a good one,” one of them said, exposing yellow teeth and pointing at the book Ericka was holding. At first the comment terrified her, then it flattered her, then it made her feel superior. She smiled, lingered for a second then walked to the counter and bought the book. The old clerk took the book, rang it up and put it in a bag with out complimenting it. Ericka briefly looked back at the girls then left. Back out on the street she felt the adrenaline wane from her brief experience.
She didn’t dislike this town, she understood it’s rules and streets and parts of it intrigued her, but she didn’t feel comfortable. There were too many tall buildings and unpredictable people and situations. She found herself drifting from the town center more and more.
Walking under an over hang of a parking facility a raving man stepped out into her way. He had a beard and smelled of piss. He ad no interest in her, but he staggered in a way as to completely block her path. A person behind her passed the man without too much trouble making Ericka decide to hang a hard left into a market built into the concrete of the building.
The smell of corndogs greeted her, and she liked that as many of the markets in Medford had a similar smell. Here a very fat man watched her very closely from behind the counter. The lighting was sharp and white florescent which with the refrigeration of the coolers made for a strange hum. She thought she’d go insane listening to it all day. They had her brand of cheap white wine, so she took it out of the cooler. The earlier alcohol was waning leaving her with a drowsy headache and she wanted to face this town with the reckless irreverence she had first had when she arrived. The clerk stared a long time at her ID, almost as if he had forgotten she was there, or he was falling asleep. He handed it back and rang up the sale and Ericka was on her way out the doors.
The raving mad man was still there, but Ericka headed back the way she came, for no particular reason.
“Hey, will you buy us beer?” One of the girls she had seen in the book store asked her from below eye level. Ericka looked down to see the three of them leaning against a wall while sitting cross legged. Ericka stood for a while racking her brain for a reason not to.
“I don’t have any money,” was the best she could muster, not making eye contact.
“We got it, you just buy it.”
“What do you want?”
The shop keeper seemed to nod off again when he inspected her ID again as she purchased three 40’s of malt liquor, the same brand she had seen Mike drink. Ericka was slightly amazed at how easy the transaction was. The bottles were awkward to tote down the street. She tried to cradle them like a child but they slid of her breasts and threatened to fall out of her grasp.
The girls were excited when she brought them. They each accepted one with out getting up. Ericka had left her own bags there with them when she went to buy the beer and she stood for a moment looking for them.
“Have a seat,” a girl with a ring coming out of her nose said. Ericka did, next to her. She couldn’t remember if this is the once who had appreciated the book she had bought which was now missing. “I’m heather.”
“Hi.”
“Want your wine?” Heather said.
“Sure.”
“Sorry, but we started it. We couldn’t wait. And we wanted to blackmail you into sitting with us.” The other girls laughed. They all had opened their bottles right there on the street which amazed Ericka. Heather brought out her bottle of wine which had the corked pushed into the bottle and some of it missing and handed it to her.
“Classy,” said one of the girls said who hadn’t introduced themselves to her.
“Fucking ‘a. What percent alcohol is your 40, bitch?” Heather said. “That’s like two ‘40’s. Do you work down town or something?”
Ericka watched Heather’s face. What appeared to be a tan she determined was dirt, as it had streaks of flesh colored clean running down from the eyes. “No, I’m from out of town.”
“You here for the rally.” Heather stated more than asked as the two other girls began to talk amongst themselves.
“Yeah, kinda. My friend has a court date today too.” Ericka stammered and kind of hid behind her shoulder.
“Today? They’re locking up protesters like crazy. They might not get to your friend today.”
“Fuck,” Ericka said, but it didn’t sound right. She drank her wine which made her gag after the drinks she had earlier. It seemed cheap and toxic almost.
Heather integrated herself back into the conversation of the other two, abandoning Ericka to try to look natural. Ericka wasn’t quite sure how one naturally drank and oversized bottle on the street, but she tried. She bit her lip and read the label, but retained no information as she was really trying to jump into the conversation of the other three. They spoke of people they knew who had been maced by the police, which left Ericka a little more out her element. Her eyes wandered along the cracks on the pavement. There were countless wads of old chewing gum and dark wet spots she imagined where the remnants of dog urine. Her mind began to plan an escape.
“Lets head over there. DO you want to come?” Heather had turned abruptly on Ericka.
“Um, no I got to go meet my friend.” Heather stared at her until Ericka met her gaze. A little apprehensive, Ericka held it for a second.
“OK. Thanks for the beer.” Heather put her hand on Ericka’s shoulder to brace herself as she got up. Her arms were tattooed and dark from the sun and dirt. Ericka wondered how homeless people had sex as she watched the three of them leave. It must be informal with most of their clothes on, the mad on top of entering from the rear as they stood. Ericka could imagine having sex outdoors in the fall unless it was quick. She wondered if people had sex in tents in the army. If they told each other to leave each other alone long enough. As she stood up and brushed off her back Ericka decided she could never be homeless or in the army because she could never have space to herself and she felt homesick for her apartment.
The way the cork sat in the bottle, either the wine flowed freely into her mouth, or it lodged it’s left back into the neck. The cork could be freed by shaking the bottle, usually, but during one particular swig, she could do nothing to dislodge the cork. Ericka walked half way up a driveway to focus her attention on the problem. She raised the bottle to her mouth, but no fluid came out. Every time she raised the bottle the cork returned to the neck. She looked up the neck with the bottle in the air, and on cue the wine came rushing out onto her face. In shock she dropped the bottle and it smashed explosively on the pavement. She thought she heard someone yell something so she took off running.
Running was never something she did. Sometimes in high school she’d see girls running and talking. It seemed so alien to her. It occurred to her a block from the driveway she hadn’t actually ran since physical education classes had mandated it years ago. A block was about all she could muster, and she heaved to a halt. Her heart was pounding in her chest and she couldn’t get a full breath. Looking around she couldn’t quite remember how to get back to the court house. The streets seemed eerily empty for such a large town. AA wind blew down a long street lined with tall buildings. It chilled her wet clothes. There were a few coffee shops and fast food restaurants, but they were closed. A few people clad in black wandered around the streets. Another blast of wind reminded Ericka she hadn’t used the bathroom since the Chinese food restaurant and a desperate urge overtook her. She picked a direction at random and walked, hopping to come across an open business. The direction she chose was down the long empty street into the wind.
She took short steps, hoping not to agitate her bowls, feeling increasingly desperate and horrified. Her eyes survey nooks and crannies along the street for possible emergency stops. Slowly she stopped, she was not going to make it. Mike had once commented that rice tore right through the intestines of white people, which was exactly what it was doing to her. In a small alley off the big street she saw a large green dumpster. There seemed to be no one in eye shot, just the concrete outer walls of the sky scrappers looming over her. She dropped her pants just in time.
She nearly fell when she heard a siren out on the street. From behind the dumpster she could make out a very large police SWAT vehicle troll slowly by with police men in black standing a top it. Ericka didn’t move a muscle until it was gone. She waited a moment then frantically tore pages out the book she had bought. Then she noticed out on the street police on horse back ridding backwards, their horses snorting protests as to the awkwardness of the ride. She heard a muffled chaotic sound growing louder. She began to rapidly clean herself up, standing up to put her pants on as a row of backwards walking riot cops walked by, aiming aerosol cans at an approaching mob of figures dressed in black.
Cautiously she walked out on to the street. The police had made a barricade on the next intersection. The men on horse back loomed above where the riot cops had made a wall with their shields. Ericka realized she was right in the middle of a large confrontation. She was surrounded by boys, mostly, with bandannas over their mouths. Some strange dark figures carried satchels with large red crosses on them. She couldn’t really push her way back the way the mob had came, and obviously she wouldn’t approach the front line of the confrontation, so she walked backwards into her alley. When she reached the rear of the alley, she hoped up on a loading dock ledge and swung her feet nervously wishing she was home.
A loud roar came from the crowd, and through the alley on the street she saw figures running away. A group of people with their faces cover dragged a body into the alley towards her and laid him out. He was screaming and pawing at his eyes. One of the masked figures produced a bottle and poured it forcefully into the wailing figures eyes, making Ericka cringe. Soon several more bodies were dragged into the alley and lain out as masked people poured liquid into their eyes. Ericka saw out on the street the crowd moving backwards, then she saw the police as the front of the engagement moved back. Then the policemen on horses came by. Ericka rooted for the police to return the calm of the once deserted street so she could find her car, Mandy and get the hell out. The masked figures retreated behind the dumpster when they noticed the police, and when the horses passed, they lunged out on the street scattering. Ericka could see they were immediately pursued as they ran out of her field of vision passed the limited view from the alley. A few seconds later the SWAT truck rolled by.
Ericka slid of her perch and approached the mouth of the alley. She dreaded passing the bodies lain out, clutching their faces. But she figured they were blinded by mace and maybe she could get by them with out being noticed. Her main fear was being arrested. Her heart lunged in her chest. As she passed the bodies, one of them staggered to his feet. He squinted at her, but couldn’t see. He helped up someone who must have been his friend and they mumbled something to each other and began to jog towards the street ahead of Ericka’s deliberate cautious progress. Out on the street Ericka saw them stager towards the rear of the police advancing on the crowd. A group of policemen almost from nowhere surrounded them. Ericka took up a stiff pace in the opposite direction, head down, not responding to any yells or cries.
At the intersection that had previously been the front of the battle, she was police blockades down all three streets that where her choices for progress. Men stood talking on radios. She stood paralyzed. She looked behind her and the cops had the others face down on the pavement and were cuffing them. She decided to sit on the curb and wait with her head in her hands.
“Do you need medical attention?” a voice bellowed from a blow horn on a police car down the street. She shook her head no.
“Approach the car with your hands above your head.”
Ericka complied, trembling. She felt very short of breath and ridiculously alone. She thought briefly how strange it would sound to Mike that she was arrested at an anti-war rally. As she approached the car she saw the riot cops were armed with batons. She began to babble.
“I don’t know what’s going on. I’m not a protester. I’m scared. I have a husband in Iraq. I’m not from here. Please believe me. Please please,” crying, snot began to come down her face. It must have had the correct effect because the cop ahead of her put his shield down.
“Your lost?”
“Yes, I’m from Medford.”
“Your a long way from Medford.”
“I’m supposed to meet my friend at the courthouse and I’m lost and I just want to go home.”
“You can put your hands down.”
“Please don’t arrest me.”
“Are you maced? You seem to have trouble breathing.”
“I’m scared.”
“The courthouse is down Washington Street, which is two that way. Take a right and follow the parks. Keep to the sidewalk, find your friend and get out of downtown. We have orders to arrest anyone we can.” Ericka nodded and wiped snot from her nose with her sleeve. She was desperate for a long warm bath. She followed the cop’s pointed finger and shuffled up the street.
There were signs and trash littered on the street. Ericka only looked up to check street names.
“Hey!”
Ericka nearly fell her nerves were so worn. It was Mandy in the parked van calling to her from the open window.

With the engine running and the heater on, Ericka felt a lot better. They sat in silence for a while. They were both aware the other had gone through an ordeal, but both just wanted out of the city. Ericka was the elected driver again. The engine vibrating beneath her seemed like too much a responsibility for the mood she was in. She rolled the car forward, but couldn’t for the life of her think of a direction to turn. Going half the speed limit in the deserted city street, she looked around for a clue. Mandy pointed the what Ericka had come, and Ericka quickly said, “Hell no.”
Down the road a few blocks Ericka noticed large green highway signs. She decided to get closer to see what they said. One sign read Seattle, the other Ocean Beaches. As she was already in the ocean beaches lane, she followed it. The street quickly met an on ramp and the accelerating made her feel infinitely better.
“How’s your brother?” Ericka said, relaxing.
“I couldn’t see him. They postponed the arraignment to deal with all the people they arrested. I was afraid you got arrested too. I spent the last few hours hiding in the van. I’m tired,” Mandy said, looking out the window.
Ericka felt so relieved that she’d made it through all she had, she even felt a little adrenaline buzz.
“Where we going?” Mandy asked.
“Well. I was thinking. I don’t know how to get from downtown Portland to Medford, but I do know how to get from Florence Beach to Medford, and any beach West of Portland has to be North of Florence. I don’t have to be at work for a few days.”
“OK.”
Ericka and Mandy drove mostly in silence towards the setting sun. Suburbs turned to farms and farms gave way to forest as they rose up into the coast range. The sun set as they reached the summit and stretching down beneath them the road wound through clear cuts, valleys and over bridges. Ericka felt like she was flying.

Mandy was asleep, her face scrunched up in a pout. She was muttering and Ericka tried to catch a few words to use against her later. They were out of the coast range and the road was straight. Her eyes were heavy, but she was still much relieved to be in a more rural part of the country. She cracked the window slightly and the smell of the ocean rushed in. It brought with it faded blurry memories.
Her mother had brought her to the ocean on summer weekends. It was a solemn trip, her mother chain smoking and the drive endless. Ericka would worry about the drop-offs on the sides of the roads imagining their tumbling. They’d arrive at the beach and Ericka would run ahead to the water, but when she reached it she wasn’t quite sure what to do. She remembered looking back and seeing her mother watching her. Sometimes she’d timidly step into the water, but the cold water would chill her ankles until there came a dull ache.
One specific time, Ericka didn’t remember how old she was, but her mother was acting a bit odd and she took off her socks and shoes and walked with Ericka into the surf up to Ericka’s knees. She must have been small because it barely went past her mother’s white shins. Her mother told her to be quiet and to pay attention to her feet as a wave broke over her knee, then receded. An odd sensation followed. She felt like the sand beneath her was racing towards the sea as it eroded from beneath her feet, yet she wasn’t moving. She remembered giggling frantically, which made her mother laugh. They did that for some time. Ericka couldn’t remember the rest of the day, but she did remember the late night ride home, along dark strange roads like the one she was driving on at that moment. The highway forked into highway 101, the coast high way and Ericka turned South. Big evergreens towered over the road. She saw signs for towns, but she knew she couldn’t afford a hotel anywhere but on the East side of the highway, away from the beach. So she decided to stop t the first one she saw on that side.
Towns seemed to all slip by without a single hotel on the left. Mandy slept soundly so she didn’t worry too much about time. The land was very foreign and she worried she’d have to drive hours before she found a cheap hotel. This worried her as she again had to pee, but didn’t want to wake Mandy in the middle of nowhere with out a reasonable plan. The highway seemed to climb dramatically and soon she noticed a terrifying drop off to her right that seemed to go directly into the ocean. Sneaking glimpses while trying to keep her eyes on the road she noticed the moon reflecting way out on the water. She realized the drop off must have been hundreds of feet which made her body tense up. Looking back on the road she realized she was in the oncoming lane and swerved back.
This woke her up, but made her reconsider her ‘left side of the highway’ rule. The highway descended again and winded into a town whose name she couldn’t imagine how to pronounce. She turned into it, the slowing on the car awaking Mandy. She looked around.
“Where are we?”
“It sounds like Montana,” said Ericka squinting at hotels.
“What?
“The name of the town sounds like Montana, I can’t pronounce it. How bout that one?” Ericka pointed at a low hotel with all yellow trim. There was sign on it that read thirty five dollars for a single. Mandy shrugged and Ericka pulled into the driveway. They both got our and walked into the harshly lit reception. Squinting Ericka looked around. The office had the distinct smell of laundry detergent. She rang a bell and presently from a back from a small dark man came out and stared at them.
Ericka spoke first, “Do you have a room?””
“Sure,” he said. “For two?”
“Yes, please.”
“That will be 45.95.”
“What about your sign outside? It said thirty five.”
“That’s single occupancy. We charge extra per person.” The small dark man squinted out the window at the van to see if there were more people hiding in the van.
“OK,” said Ericka, unrolling three twenties. She had two more left.
“Fill this out please. You will be in room 21. Ice machine is right down there at the end of the parking lot. Check out is eleven AM. Any questions?”
“No,” Ericka said, taking the key. Mandy was thumbing through the postcards with an absent look in her eye. “Come on.”
The room smelled like detergent too. There were two beds, one near the TV. Ericka looked in the bathroom while Mandy plopped on the bed and turned on the TV. There was a shallow bathtub which Ericka immediately turned on. The water came out scalding. She ran a bath, then went out to the van and got a half bottle of wine that had been rolling in the back for days.
“You going to take a bath?” Mandy asked. Ericka blinked for a second, but forgave her pointing out the obvious as she looked very tired.
“Yeah, You want to first?”
“Maybe later.”
Ericka walked into the bathroom which was steamy and undressed. Dipping her toes in the tub, she adjusted the water flowing from the tap to cool the tub down. She drank from her bottle then slowly settled into the hot water. She felt her whole body relax, but when she closed her eyes to dunk her head, she felt the road moving beneath her. She spent a long time in the bath, drinking and reheating the water when it got cold. The more intoxicated she got, the happier she felt. She called for Mandy, but got no response. She thought it might be fun to have her hang out with her in the bathroom. But she didn’t reply. She cleaned herself with the hotel provided soaps and pulled the plug in the drain. She sat in the tub as it drained, then slowly stood and toweled off. She picked up her shirt, but smelled wine on it and decided not to wear it. She wrapped her self in a towel then left the bathroom. The hotel room was very cold and Mandy was asleep in the bed next to the TV. Ericka crawled into the other bed, but shivered and couldn’t see the TV, so she crawled into Mandy’s bed. Mandy was sleeping on her side with her arm tucked up under her cheek. Ericka flipped through the channels for a while, then drifted to sleep.

Ericka was vaguely aware of dreaming, or maybe people were coming and going from the room, she was too sleepy to determine it for sure. A real arm on her shoulder startled her awake and her eyes opened to sunlight streaming into the room. Mandy was smiling at her. Ericka could smell food and coffee and sat up in bed. There was a breakfast sausage sandwich sitting on the table next to the bed and a large steaming cup.
“Is that for me?” Ericka said groggily.
“Yeah, I ready ate. I thought I’d let you sleep in after driving all night. Your right, I don’t know how to pronounce the name of this town either. It’s a beautiful warm day.”

Ericka munched her breakfast, her mind blank. Her eyes followed Mandy as she tidied up. Soon Mandy ran out of things to do and she plopped down on the foot of the bed and smiled at Ericka.
“What?” Ericka said.
“You’re just funny when you eat. It seems to stone you,” Mandy said. “What’s the plan today?”
“I dunno,” Ericka said as she folded the wrapper of her sandwich. “South, I guess. I’m running low on money so maybe we should try to go home. But we can just wing it.”
“There’s a cheese factory in Tillamook I’ve wanted to go to for a long time,” Mandy said, playing with the edge of the blanket. “I think it’s free.”
“Free cheese?” Ericka said quizzically looking up from her coffee.
“I would think so.”
“Only way to make cheese better than it already is, is to make it free,” Ericka stated, then rose to go to the bathroom. “Turn your head,” she said, realizing she was still nude.
She peed, rinsed her mouth out in the sink and put on the damp clothes laying on the floor, minus the underwear which hadn’t faired too well during the protest rally. That she threw away and placed toilet paper on top of in the trash. She put her hair into a pony tail then left the bathroom to search for her shoes. She found them next to the bed, neatly paired, obviously Mandy’s work. “Let’s go.”
The light was even brighter in the parking lot, reflecting off the other cars. Ericka waited in the van with the engine running while Mandy turned in their key. As they drove away, Mandy gave the Queen’s wave and said, “Bye bye Montana.”
The highway began to follow a river which widened the closer it got to the ocean. They passed a small town full of antique shops. “I bet the people who live there are bored.” Ericka commented.
“Maybe they’re all retired,” Mandy said softly.
The river widened to a large bay full of boats. Along the road the brush was very thick. “I bet there’s great blackberries in there,” Mandy said. “We should find a cool park and pull over and pick em.
Although Ericka liked this idea, the speed of the van and gentle curves of the road still exhilarated her, so she thought she’d put that idea off. They passed a few more towns, some on the coast or some situated on bays. Mandy followed interesting landmarks with her head as they passed like an excited puppy. It made Ericka happy to see her in less of an apocalyptic mood. Mandy tuned in a radio station playing old time country which made them both smile awkwardly. A thin whispy voice sang, “Mind Your Own Business,” right as they stopped at a traffic light in a small town. A group of younger boys stared at them as they walked across the highway. Mandy flipped them off as the light turned green again and the boys shouted something as they drove away.
Mandy saw a sign that said ‘South Jetty,” and made whimpering noises. Ericka slowed and turned down a road past a closed gas station that led into a large parking lot and adjoined what looked like a high jagged rock wall. She stopped, and turned the car off and looked at Mandy. Mandy looked back then opened her car door. Ericka followed ten steps behind as Mandy found the nearest black berry bush.
They picked the berries in silence for a while, throwing them in their mouths like they hadn’t eaten in a long time. Mandy finally broke the silence said, “I wish we could spend a week or two out here.”
Ericka nodded then thought about it. It was kind of touching that she said, ‘we,’ instead of ‘I.’
Mike and Ericka had camped a few times. It was mostly her sitting at a damp picnic bench while Mike and his friend drank and shot things in the woods. He’d come back smelling like gun powder and wand to have sex in the tent, which Ericka hated because she knew they could be heard. She obliged. Mike once held her after wards and said he didn’t need much, just a tent and her but he’d get more if she wanted. At the time Ericka was uncomfortable as there was a rock beneath the tent boring a hole in her back and a load of semen in her vagina that she’d have to walk a quarter mile to a bathroom to get rid of. She envied Mikes ease with the world. What did not make him happy just made him mad, he never seemed sad. This made Ericka want to fight the melancholy seeping up her spine. She smiled at Mandy who was still feeding herself. Her lips were stained dark with juice and it seemed to go well with her dark hair.
Ericka turned and decided to investigate the wall, which was really more of a long mound of stones. She climbed up them to the top and saw a wide deep bay on the other side, which amazed her as she expected more sand and field on the other side. She thought about calling to Mandy, but instead she sat on a rock hopping she’d come to her.
The thought of going back to work made her feel a pang of dread. She countered this thought with the will to have a positive thought. She thought of ways to make her life more fun. Maybe she’d buy furniture with Mandy. They could go shopping the next time she got paid or a check came from the military. She needed a table and chairs in her apartment now that she had a friend and someone to eat with.
“What’s up there,” Mandy said looking up at her, daunted by the climb.
“A good view of a river, or something,” Ericka said and watched Mandy climb the rocks. She did so with a lady-like way Ericka knew she herself didn’t have. When Mandy made it to the top she sat next to her and put her arms in her sleeves and hunched forward. When Ericka had done this around Mike, Mike furiously rubbed her shoulders. Ericka reached for Mandy, but the affect was somewhat menacing as if she were reaching to strangle her.
“What are you doing?” Mandy said with a worried face.
“I’m going to warm you up,” and Ericka began to rub her shoulders, awkwardly at first, but the heat generated from the friction of her hands gave her confidence. When she stopped Mandy slumped onto Ericka’s side and they sat in silence for a while. Ericka felt a cramp in her leg, but didn’t move.
“I’m still hungry,” Mandy said.
“Me too,” agreed Ericka. Neither moved for a moment, then Mandy got up and began to make her way down the mound.
“Lets go eat, I’m cold,” Mandy said looking over her shoulder, her arms outstretched like tightrope walker as she negotiated the large rocks.
Ericka rose and walked quickly behind her. She had more confidence and she quickly made it down the mound before Mandy did. Ericka helped Mandy off the last big rock by extending a hand to her. Mandy put weight on it and hopped down. Ericka remembered Heather, the punk from the day before had wore her hoodie with her thumbs punched through the cuffs so that the sleeves ended in makeshift mittens. Looking at Mandy’s hand in her own, she thought it might be a good look for her as well. She released Mandy’s hand and walked behind her to the van while knawing a hole in either sleeve.
“What are you doing? You must be hungry,” Mandy said when they reached the van.
“Look,” Ericka said, finishing the last hole and slipping her thumb through.
“That’s a good idea,” Mandy said, but Ericka knew she wouldn’t do it too, as her clothes always had a clean new look to them. Ericka couldn’t decide whether this was annoying or attractive. Ericka prided herself in how un-fragile she was, although jeans without underwear was proving to be a little uncomfortable to her vagina. It was a relief to be sitting and driving again. They drove down the road that led to the highway again, and Ericka noticed some berry juice on her own face in the rearview window. She wet her cuff with her tongue and wiped her face and did not see the dog, but the resulting sound and bump made her slam on the brake.
“Jesus,” Mandy said, looking back. “What was that?”
“I , I didn’t see it, did you?”
“No. Oh God, it’s a dog.”
They both got out and walked back to where the animal lay. It was a golden retriever and it whimpered frantically. It tried to stand but it hind quarters were severely mangled. One of it’s front legs too was bent backwards. It fell and breathed hard on it’s side, it’s big brown eyes unfocused.
“Oh, God,” Mandy said, tears in her eyes, her arms crossed in front of her. Ericka sat next to the animal and pet it on the head.
“It’s not going to make it,” she said, looking coldly up at Mandy.
“We have to do something,” Mandy half screamed.
Ericka looked down at the dog whose mouth was now open in a slow motion pant. He had a graying muzzle and no collar. She felt oddly removed from the situation. Her stomach growled slightly. She could smell the exhaust from the idling van sitting a few feet down the road. “It’s not gonna make it.”
“We have to do something,” Mandy repeated, softly this time.
Ericka stood and walked over to the van. She got in, put the car in reverse and backed over the animal again to put it out it’s misery. She noticed Mandy wasn’t facing the creature. Ericka got out and looked at the carcass. She had finished job. She then walked over to Mandy who cringed when she touched her. “It was the right thing to do.” Mandy didn’t respond. “Lets go...” Ericka almost finished the sentence with eat, but caught the blunder before it left her lips at got in the car.
They drove in silence for some time until they got into Tilamook. The traffic slowed as they drove through the main street. On either side of the highway were old shop buildings, many vacant and it reminded her of Medford. She saw an old neon sign that read, “The Dutch Mill, Breakfast all day,” and she stopped in front of it. She looked over at the still silent Mandy as a cue, and they both got out and walked in.
On the wall was a mural of a man shooting ducks underneath which were a line of booths. Ericka picked on and plopped down in it. Mandy followed.
“I’m sorry, Mandy, but I couldn’t watch it die, and I couldn’t just drive away,” Ericka said, eyeing a drink menu next to the Keno lottery cards.
“I know, I know. It just got me thinking, you know?”
“What about?” Ericka said, eyeing the bloody marry on the menu.
“Well, in the news. The road side bombs in Iraq. The way he was lying there, dying alone. It made me think of Dan.
“That’s way different,” Ericka said, tired of the subject and not wanting to ruin her mood. She caught the eye of an older large waitress. She smiled and got food menus and a pot of coffee and approached the table.
“Coffee?” she said as if she were asking what was in the pot she was holding.
“Bloody marry, please. I just hit a dog,” Ericka said. Mandy looked at them like they were speaking a foreign language.
“Christ, Hun, I’m sorry. Dead?”
“I’m fine, but the dog aint.”
“OK, right away. You two be eating too?”
“Yes, please,” Ericka said and accepted the menus as the waitress walked away.
“I know it’s different, and I guess that was brave of you. God I’m worried about Dan. I’m going to call home.”
“I’m sure he’s fine,” Ericka said, slightly annoyed.
“I know, I still got to know,” said Mandy as she slid out of the booth and walked outside. Ericka watched her through the glass of the cafe as she entered a phone booth and dialed a number. The waitress came back and set two bloody Marrys in front of her.
“Need a minute, Hun?” she asked.
“Yeah, please.” Ericka sucked up most of the Bloody Marry in one suck on the straw. The spice made her eyes water. It was close to the best thing she’d ever had. She finished it off and ate the celery. She checked over her shoulder and saw Mandy was still talking on the phone, so she sucked down the second one too. As she ate the celery Mandy returned, smirking.
“Danny called yesterday. He’s fine,” Mandy beamed.
“Do you have any deodorant?” Ericka said, still chewing, then sniffing her arm. Mandy laughed.
“Two more?” The waitress appeared out of nowhere.
“Yes please, and Ill have ham and eggs.” Ericka said, wondering how they would stack up to old George’s back home. He burnt the ham on purpose for, then smiled and nodded as she ate it at the counter.
“What a lady,” he’d say, then whistle Rick James’ ‘Super Freak.’
“And you Hon?” The waitress aimed her pen at Mandy which gave her a start.
“Toast, please. Just toast.”
“You sure Hon? I don’t want to have to carry you outa here,” the waitress said collecting the menus.
“Lets skip the cheese factory,” Mandy said, looking at her watch.
“You wanna skip the cheese factory?” Ericka said with one raised eye brow.
“Let’s skip the cheese factory.”
“You wanna skip...” Ericka paused and sucked at an empty glass while maintaining eye contact with Mandy, “...the cheese factory?”
“Skip it.”
“Okay, we’ll skip the cheese factory,” Ericka nodded and watched the waitress emerge from the bar in back with two glasses. She licked her lips.
“We’re skipping the cheese factory.” Mandy said smiling and folding her napkin.
“Two more Bloody Marys,” the waitress called as she set them down. Ericka thought this lady might be nice to drink with. Ericka was surprised to see Mandy beat her to the glass and drink.
“Your funny when you drink,” Mandy said, grinning at her while chewing on the straw.
“You think this is funny? First you skip the cheese factory, now I’m funny. I think your funny. Never eating and all drunk all the time. Psht. My grandfather skipped the cheese factory. It almost killed him.”
“We can go to the cheese factory...”
“Oh, now all of a sudden your some kind of cheese tourist, are you? I don’t want to go to the cheese factory so stop twisting my arm,” Ericka said deadpan.
“I was just thinking about time...”
“I’m lactose intolerant. Do you want me in a car with you for six hours after I visit the source of lactose in the world?” By this time Mandy was in hysterics.
“OK, no cheese factory. I want to put my feet in the water, though, before we go.”
“Bathroom’s right over there, sicko,” said Ericka before taking a dramatic sip.
By the time they left the Dutch Mill, Ericka was feeling pretty good. Mandy had color in her cheeks too. Instead of getting back in the car, Ericka took Mandy’s arm and they walked down the street.
“Oh, we could put a coffee shop in there,” Mandy said, pointing at a vacant property. Ericka liked that idea. They passed a pawn shop and a florist before walking by a liquor store. They walked no further. This time the Ericka was suspicious of their ID’s asking both their supposed ages. Ericka blushed when she faltered, but the old man sold them a cheap fifth of tequila any way. On the way out of town while stopping for gas, Mandy bought a plastic coffee mug with the gas station emblem on it and poured the liquor in it so they could discretely drink and drive. A sign on the side of the road outside of town warned, “Don’t drink and drive.”
Another sign said, “Cape Meares Scenic Byway and Mandy pointed in a way such that one would a assume her finger were connected to the steering column. They followed the road. It veered around sharp corners covered in gravel, and occasionally Ericka felt the back wheels skid. Mandy didn’t seem to mind. When she wasn’t chatting she was looking dreamily out the window. She obviously didn’t share Ericka’s fear of precipices.
The tequila nearly made them vomit every drink, but it also illuminated the day. The sun seemed brighter and turning corners in the van seemed more exciting. They came across a few scenic vistas that made Ericka slow the car to a crawl so they could both ‘oh’ and ‘ah.” An arrow pointed off the road and next to it was a sign that read, “The Octopus Tree.” Ericka wordlessly decided to turn.
They came to an empty parking lot on a cliff overlooking the ocean. The blew Mandy’s hair around when she got out. She tucked it behind her ears over and over again. They followed signs up a wooded path for a while.
“What the fuck is an octopus tree?” Ericka said, then sipped on the mug.
“I have no idea. I guess it’s a tree from far away maybe.”
“How the hell did it get here?” Ericka said then looked up. The tree was huge. It was comprised of eight or nine tall trees all coming out of one massive trunk. “I guess that’s an octopus tree.”
“I guess.”
They marveled at it for a time but their silence soon became awkward as it can be difficult to think of things to say around a large deformed tree. Mandy was leaning back and squinting at the top of the tree. Ericka kicked a pine cone and restlessly looked around. s beautiful as the coast was, it offered little in tactile entertainment. On a whim Ericka pushed Mandy in the arm. Not expecting it, she staggered back and held her arm and looked at her in shock.
“Why did you do that?” She said with an astonished look in her eye.
“That’s what I thought,” Ericka said smugly and walked towards a bench on the other side of the tree. The bench overlooked a dramatic drop off to the ocean. She climbed a short wooden fence and walked to the edge. The height of the drop off made her a little dizzy. A cold wind from off the ocean pushed against her face giving her goose bumps. She sipped from her gas station mug and turned to climb back over the fence. While she had one leg over the fence, a pine cone pegged her on her thigh. She looked up to see Mandy with her arm cocked to launch another one. Ericka scrambled over the fence as a pine cone sailed over her head towards the ocean. She took cover behind the bench and pawed at the ground for a missile, finding a dirt clod. She showed her face for an instant, then hid again provoking Mandy to throw a pine cone at her. In the moment she calculated it would take Mandy to reload she stood and threw her dirty clod. Mandy turned just in time and the dirt clod exploded on her back.
“Bitch,” she said and walked towards Ericka’s hide out. Ericka frantically pawed at the ground again but couldn’t find anything. She looked up and saw Mandy looming over her with her arm above her head, hand full of pine cones. Ericka put her hands above her head and cringed.
“Ericka,” Mandy maniacally sung down at her.
“What?”
“Look at me,” Mandy cooed.
“Fuck off,” Ericka said.
Mandy threw about five pine cones point blank range at the cringing Ericka. She screamed and held her head tight. She was aware of footsteps running away, though and quickly collected herself stood and pursued her. Mandy took a sharp turn behind the massive octopus tree and was out of sight. Ericka stopped and looked for an appropriate weapon, deciding on a dead branch still covered in needles. She slowly approached the tree with her stick raised to swat Mandy. Tentatively she flattened her body against the tree, trying not to breathe to hard. She slowly slid around the tree listening for and sign of Mandy’s counter attack. When she estimated she was about to the point when she needed to leap out, she screamed something incomprehensible and sprung around, swinging her branch, but Mandy was no where to be seen. Just them a flying pine cone glanced of the tree. Ericka scanned the forest, but the movement of all the trees in the wind made it impossible to see Mandy. Ericka squinted at the tree line as a pine cone hit her right in the belly. ‘Fuck,’ she muttered and retreated to the opposite side of the tree. There she found quite a few pine cones. She grabbed as many as she could, filling the big pocket in the front of her hoodie. She took a drink from the cup put it down and formulated an attack strategy. The back of her neck was throbbing a little and she remembered vaguely Mandy wearing a letterman jacket in high school. It must have been for baseball. But this didn’t daunt Ericka too much because she knew how risk averse Mandy was. Ericka decided she could stand a few more blows if it meant getting a real good shot in at Mandy.
Ericka took a deep breath and came out from behind the tree. She stood there with a pine cone cocked in her hand waiting for one to fly at her. None did. She cautiously approached the edge of the woods, eyes unfocused to utilized her peripheral vision. Every forest sound made her head snap and focus on the gently swaying forest canopy. She took a step off the wide path threat circled the Octopus tree and crouched.
She waited for a while, thinking perhaps Mandy had gone back to the car when she felt a sharp pain in the back of her neck, then square on her ass, which made her stand quickly and protect her ass with her hands. She turned and saw Mandy behind the octopus tree now, hailing her with pine cones. She had a smooth underhand throw and a furrowed focused face. A pine cone struck Ericka in the left breast and really hurt.
“Butch,” Ericka said and rushed Mandy who stepped back and continued to lob cones at her. Ericka protected her face while she charged and ducked her head. Mandy turned to run, but it was too late, Ericka meet her at full speed and tackled her at the waist line. They fell back with Ericka on top. She quickly positioned her knees on Mandy’s arms, straddling and trapping her.
“Look who won, bitch, “ Ericka said beaming. “Can do anything I want to you now, can’t I? Hmm?” Mandy began thrashing beneath her, still with a competitive expression on her face. Mandy’s hair soon was full of pine needles and dirt. Ericka reached down and lightly smacked her cheeks. This made Mandy thrash her head getting her face dirty as well.
Ericka ran out of petty tortures and rolled off Mandy who laid there for a moment panting. “It’s on,” Mandy muttered. “I’ll get you back when your asleep.”
Ericka crawled over to the coffee cup, but found it empty. She stood and brushed herself off. Then she walked over to Mandy, still on her back scowling. Ericka offered her hand up, but she refused and got up on her own. Ericka patted her back down, smacked and her ass. Mandy spun on her and looked at her with an almost perfect mask of malice. Ericka didn’t buy it and smiled while taking a large stick out of her hair. Mandy stifled a grin and turned and walked toward the van.
Behind the wheel again and still short of breath, Ericka felt drunk. The vehicle listed between lanes when her mind wandered. The slightest distraction would seem to veer the car off it’s path. When a county trooper passed them coming the opposite direction, the subsequent adrenaline cleared her mind. Mandy had refilled the coffee cup from the fifth of tequila. She was visibly drunk, her face still dirty and oblivious to Ericka’s driving. Ericka looked down at the bottle rolling on the floor of the car, it was half empty. Looking back up she realized the wheels on the right side of the automobile were off the pavement and the van was dangerously close to a drop off. Ericka yanked the wheel to the left and out of fear brought her knees up. Now the car was careening towards the woods on the opposite side of the highway. Ericka frantically slammed her foot on what she thought was the brake, but missed and slammed on the accelerator. Violently she turned the wheel back to the right and again she was speeding towards the drop off. She cranked the wheel back to the left but the van didn’t respond. The drop off was high as just over the edge of the road she could see the tops of trees. Wide eyed she stared forward and extended her right arm across Mandy’s chest to brace her for the impact. She realized, though, that despite the fact that the van was facing the drop off, it wasn’t moving toward it. The van was in a sideways skid.
Ericka looked to her left, down the highway. It was straight and at a downward slope. It seemed picturesque and peaceful. The trees made a kind of tunnel over the road and the sun intermittently broke through onto the pavement. The van stopped and shook with the residual momentum. Ericka slowly turned to Mandy who had one eyebrow up in a quizzical manor. Mandy reached across her own shoulder and fastened her safety belt. Ericka eased her foot off the brake and swung the car back into the correct lane and drove on slowly. The first sign Ericka saw that read beach access, she turned off.
Ericka stopped in the first spot she saw and collapsed out of the car. She was shaking. Mandy deliberately got out and walked over to her and loomed over, blocking out the sun. Ericka squinted up at her but couldn’t make out her features due to the harsh back lighting by the sun.
“Let’s go swimming,” Mandy presently said, slid open the back door of the van and produced a blanket. She then walked towards the sea, over a dune. Ericka stood and followed, then ran back to the van to get the bottle.

The beach was deserted, as far as the eye could see in either direction. By the time Ericka had caught up to Mandy, Mandy had the blanket lain out and was taking off her socks. Ericka sat next to her, but Mandy immediately stood up again and walked towards the ocean.
“Wait,” Ericka called as she scrambled to get her shoes, socks and hoodie off. The wind was slightly chilly, but the direct sun warmed the goose bumps on Ericka’s arms. Looking up she saw Mandy striding confidently into the waves, nearly up to her waist.
Ericka jogged to the water line, a small breaker washing around her ankle. The time she had swam at the lake near Medford the first time she hung out with Mandy flashed through her mind. This water was much colder, or maybe the fact that there was no rain made it harder to get accustomed to the water. Ericka took a deep breath and ran after Mandy, the water splashing up between her legs as she ran. The water slowed her ad nearly tripped her. A wave broke at her waist line and the cold shocked her. She was nearly to Mandy, who still stood facing the horizon. Ericka slowed her approach and jumped as the waves passed. She was soaked up to her breasts. Finally reaching Mandy, she looked at her face and saw she had a distant look in her eyes. Instead of crossing her arms against the cold, she let them hang in the water. She was soaked right up to her neck as she didn’t jump when the waves came.
Ericka wished she could come up with something to say. The water retreated from around them somewhat and Mandy turned to look at the shore. Her dark eyes were wet and Ericka wondered what the fuck she was crying about this time. Mandy turned back and glanced at Ericka and smiled.
“Sorry, I’m just all weepy,” Mandy said.
“You’re drunk,” Ericka said then noticed a large breaking white wave approach, as high as their heads. “Shit,” Ericka muttered and turned to run. It caught her a few seconds later and flattened her. Underwater, Ericka felt her feet sucked up over her head. She reached her arms out into the water and thought she felt the sand. She tried to reason which way the surface was. She was desperate for a breath of air. She tried to open her eyes but they immediately stung shut again from the salt. She opened her mouth and it filled with thick cold water, rushing out her nose again. Her toes brushed against sand and she struggled to find her gravity, barely managing it. Once she had, she leapt against it and popped up into the air and gasped. The water wasn’t very deep and she found her footing, but couldn’t manage a breath. She rubbed her still stinging eyes and tried again to breath but instead out came a massive stream of vomit.
“Are you all right?” Mandy said walking to her. Ericka dry heaved. “Never turn your back on a wave, silly.” Mandy took Ericka’s forearm and they walked backwards towards the shore jumping over the waves which declined in size.
On the beach Ericka looked around wide eyed. She remembered her woeful lack of replacement clothing. The sun was warm, but the thin autumn air chilled her. The beach stretching in either direction seemed huge and in hospitable.
“Let’s keep moving,” Mandy said, her hair flattened by the sea water and laying in strands across her face. Her cheeks were red, but her arms white and covered in bumps. Her shirt clung to her. “Take off your shirt and put on your hoodie.”
Ericka turned her back and complied. Her dry hoodie felt immediately warm, but her soaked jeans seemed all the more cold. Mandy began to head towards the dunes, so Ericka followed.
Once they reached the van, Mandy began to rummage about. She found her own hoodie and took off her shirt and bra and put the hoodie on. She took Ericka’s wet clothing and laid it with her own on the roof of the car. She then filled her arms with the fast food wrappers and Fred Meyers ads which littered the floor of the van. She handed bits of paper and cardboard to Ericka and then headed towards the beach. She found a suitable group of logs washed ashore from a previous high tide and stacked them, placing all her accumulated beneath. Ericka followed. Then Mandy produced a lighter and leaned close to the pile, carefully igniting an edge, then blowing on it. The flames slowly rose. Mandy then grabbed hand fulls of twigs and sticks that lay on the water line and placed them on the fire beneath the logs. Steam rose from the bleached driftwood. Ericka began to scan the sand for sticks. She became aware of how uncomfortable the cold denim was on her vagina without underwear there to protect it. She walked stiffly with small steps. She found a good collection of sticks and returned to the fire where Mandy was crouched, butt in the air, blowing on the it.
Soon they had a comfortable fire going. Mandy brought the blanket and laid it out. Ericka noticed a stager in how she walked. It amazed how her how stoic and efficient Mandy was when drunk. She would wordlessly lead them and care for them and consume a great deal of alcohol. It was Mandy’s silence that made Ericka recall the garage where they had the old car.
It was Ericka’s job to trudge the trash to the curb for pick up. One day Ericka came home to her mother reading the mail. She read an official looking postcard and swore. From then on they had two containers. One for trash and one for glass. This was an inconvenience to Ericka, because now she had to make a trip to the curb and a trip to the garage where she arranged the empty glass bottles along the shelves, window sills, then along the floor. When she left home the garage was entirely full of glass bottles. Her mom was a drunk. It had never occurred to her.
Sitting next to her, Mandy began to remove her wet jeans. She laid them out over one of the logs which was half in the fire. She had on small black panties. Her tummy went straight into them without even a single roll, which Ericka noticed with displeasure. Ericka held on to her knees, justifying her own not stripping with not wanting to seem like a follower. Mandy gave her an inquisitive look while drinking from the coffee cup. Ericka met her gaze for a moment, then laid back and made the appropriate pelvic motion to remove her pants. The air rushed in on her cold clammy thighs and immediately felt better. Ericka stood while pulling her hoodie down over her crotch to hide her nakedness, averting eye contact from Mandy. She put her pants out on a log to dry and sat back down.
“Where is your underwear?” Mandy said with an air of ‘I told you were fucking nuts.’
“I lost them at the hotel,” Ericka said, feeling much drier and warmer, but fearing a migration of tourists over the dune at any moment. Ericka’s body relaxed, the vomiting and near drowning earlier had taken quite a bit out of her. She yawned and looked at the blanket around her hopping to find a way to arrange her body to take a nap. There was a little room and she curled up into a fetal position, drawing her knees up into her hoodie. Mandy scooted nearer and pulled the extra blanket over her exposed but. Listening to the waves sent her immediately to sleep.
Ericka was awakened by her own shivering. She sat up on the blanket and rubbed herself. She felt empty and sobered up. Mandy was clothed again, stoking the fire. The sun indicated it was late afternoon. Ericka crawled over and felt her pants, which were moist, but wearable. She skooted into them as she needed to pee. “Finally,” Mandy said indicating her boredom at watching Ericka sleep for so long.
Ericka plodded up the dune and peed in full view of the empty parking lot. She then walked over to the van and checked her shirt, which was drier than her pants. She changed into it but still her shivering persisted. She slid open the van door, and felt around for the bottle, but it wasn’t there. Back by the fire she saw the bottle, nearly finished on it’s side in the sand. Ericka looked up and watched Mandy who was shaking out the blanket slowly and deliberately. She often dropped the corners of the blanket and had to begin her task anew. She was drunk.
Ericka picked the bottle up, brushed sand on the neck, and raised the bottle to her lips, but was surprised to see the bottle shake in her hands due to her shivering. She drank, but some of the liquid splashed out on her chin and rolled down her neck. “Are you cold?” Ericka asked Mandy.
Mandy continued to fold for a while and Ericka thought she hadn’t heard. Ericka was about to repeat the question, but Mandy said, “No, I’m fine,” causing the blanket to fall in the sand again as it had been perched under her chin. She threw her hands up, shrugged and smiled. So drunk. Ericka smiled and finished the bottle, this time getting all the liquid in her mouth. She shuddered and had immediate goose bumps. A wind filled her nostrils with clean air and the sun looked beautiful on the sand. The dry cotton on her back and breasts felt warm.
“What now?” Mandy said with half closed eyes and a sandy blanket under her arm.
“I guess we can keep going,” Ericka said.
“K,” Mandy said, walking close and putting the blanket around Ericka’s shoulders, causing sand to get in her eyes. Mandy charged ahead and didn’t realize her error, but Ericka let it slide as Mandy had an adorable way to her when she was plowed. She ran to catch up and swatted Mandy on her bonny but.
They drove on, the terrain noticeably flatter. Ericka wasn’t as dangerously intoxicated, nor cold. There were songs about love on the crackling country station and Ericka could observe the sinking sun out the window beyond Mandy’s face. Mandy babbled bout High School, but it never really sparked a conversation, which was fine with Ericka. She preferred to drive in an easy silence, muttering agreement occasionally. Mandy’s head flopped with the momentum of the car when they went through curves. Little towns passed by. They seemed relieved and ready for the cold rainy long Oregon winter where no one from the cities would visit. The wind swept trees seemed to echo the sentiment.
They stopped for gas at a gas station, mini mart. Mandy stood with her belly jutting out staring into the case with the fried foods. The market attendant watched her, tongs in hand, awaiting her decision, which seemed never to come. Ericka wandered the isles, picking up cookies and cakes and a big bottle of white wine. When she returned, Mandy was still standing there, now with one finger coyly in her mouth. The attendant sighed in irritation and rolled his eyes.
“What? You got something more important to do?” Ericka asked with frown.
Mandy was shaken from her stupor by the tone in Ericka’s voice, looked up at the attendant and said, “Oh I’m sorry. Can I have an eight piece fried chicken meal?” Ericka continued her confrontational gaze at the attendant who didn’t look back. Ericka put down her fake ID, and the attendant glanced at it and they were off again.
Back in the car, Mandy took out a drumstick, took a bite out of it then fell asleep with it still in her hand. Ericka smiled and twisted the cap off the wine, drank and drove on.
About an hour later, Ericka pulled into another wayside. The sun was setting and she needed to pee. Mandy awoke as the car stopped and took another bite of chicken. Ericka got out and squatted by the open car door. Mandy did the same, chicken still in hand. They walked forward towards the ocean and stood side by side. Mandy looked back at something and laughed. Ericka turned and saw the symmetrical damp trickles leading from the Van’s sides. Mandy put one arm around Ericka’s back. Ericka looked at her close face and realized Mandy’s other hand was still feeding her mouth with the chicken drumstick.
The drifted lower and Ericka’s heart began to race. They had many more miles to go, but that didn’t seem an issue. Mandy finished her stick and dropped it, then put her head on Ericka’s shoulder and closed her eyes. Ericka leaned in and kissed her, tasting chicken. Mandy’s lips were greasy, but warm. Mandy exhaled through her nose, warm air. Where their cheeks touched, Ericka was aware of warmth. Ericka opened her own eyes, which she hadn’t realized she’d closed. Mandy’s eyes were still closed and as Ericka pulled away, their lips stuck together briefly. Mandy smiled, with her eyes closed and reached with her free hand and pulled Ericka in again, turning Ericka’s body with the hand behind her back.
Now Ericka’s heart raced, unsure of what she’d started. She kept her eyes open and watched Mandy for some sudden revulsion, but Mandy’s tongue came out and teased Ericka’s lips. Mandy pulled her in and the warmth of their bodies met and felt so comforting. Mandy opened her eyes finally and gazed glassy eyed towards the setting sun. Ericka realized she had not breathed in quite sometime.
Mandy turned quite suddenly, leaving Ericka standing there, terrified. Ericka wasn’t sure what to do, watching Mandy stager back to the van. Mandy opened the door with a deliberate drunkenness. Ericka thought of what she would say once underway. She fondled the keys in her pocket and braced herself for an uncomfortable ride home, but then she noticed Mandy was just retrieving another drumstick, the wine and the blanket. She retained and stood next to Ericka for a second, pondering the items in her hand. She leaned over and put the wine bottle down, clenched the chicken in her teeth and wrapped the blanket around the two of them. She picked up the bottle, and held the chicken in the other hand as the blanket began to slip off her shoulders. Ericka put one of her arms around Mandy’s shoulders and held the blanket in place as Mandy ate and drank with quiet contentment.
Ericka took the bottle from Mandy, drank a long pull from the bottle. When she lowered the bottle again, she was ambushed by Mandy’s face again and they kissed, Ericka with a full mouth of wine. Mandy’s sensed Ericka’s reticence to open her mouth when she kissed and probed with her tongue. Ericka managed to swallow some of the wine, but some drooled out in Mandy’s mouth, which made her open her eyes wide and look at her. She swayed a little, took the bottle and filled her own mouth and kissed Ericka again, wine dribbling down both their chins. Mandy let her hand touch Ericka’s neck, pausing on a vein. She must have noticed Ericka’s pounding pulse.

It was all dark now, no trace of light in the sky. Mandy slept and the vents blew comfortable warm air into the van. The road revealed it’s self to the headlights and the car almost seemed to be stationary as all Ericka could see was two pools of softly lit road. Her only clue as to their forward movement was when the road curved suddenly. To fight off drowsy feelings, Ericka rolled down her window and air blew at her face, making her hair dance.
Sleep was creeping in and they hadn’t enough money for another hotel. Ericka had hopes of driving late into the night, but the road was hypnotizing her to sleep. She took inventory in her mind of things they could make a bed with. There was ample room, but just the one blanket. The very thought of sleeping made her more drowsy. She suspected they had another five hours of driving ahead of them and there was no way they’d make it. She began to look for another pull-off or state park. It seemed an eternity passed, but looking at the clock on radio revealed only a few minutes. She was amazed at how tired she was, she had never had to sleep so much she literally was almost falling asleep while doing something else. It was an almost funny impulse, or perhaps the body doesn’t understand the high stakes involved in driving, but her brain seemed to be comforted with the notion of nodding off at 60 mph.
She saw a sign pointing towards a lighthouse three miles off the road, which seemed perfect, as she could drive a few hundred feet towards it and park, avoiding any state park patrol. She rolled to a halt with her high beams on, gently edging the van off the road into the gravel. She put the emergency brake on, killed the lights and engine and gave a sigh of relief.
She rearranged the back so there was a clear are big enough for two to lie down in before waking Mandy. Mandy woke and blindly followed Ericka’s lead to the bed in the back. The blanket barely covered their two bodies, but neither minded as they were quickly fast asleep.

Ericka awoke, slightly, to the suspicion the van was moving. She didn’t open her eyes, nor was she sure she was awake. She thought maybe someone was sitting up next to her. It was a stranger, but a perfect stranger. Ericka felt a deep empathy for this person. It took a good person to warm another at a rainy buss stop. She was cold and her pants were still by the fire on the beach and the buss wouldn’t come for another few hours. The stranger put an arm around her back and Ericka buried her face in the strangers neck, which was soft and warm. They were moving, so they have gotten on the buss. The strangers breast were soft and warm. The strangers lips were soft and breathing deeply. Ericka traced the strangers body down the rib, over the navel, over the stomach to the top of the pubic hair right beneath the strangers open pants fly.
Ericka scooted up a little rolled on her side to get leverage to allow her hand deeper into the pants. Slowly she pushed her hands through the public hair, towards the beginning of the clitoris. The stranger breathed rapidly under her arm. Ericka felt heat and moisture as she slowly traced the clitoris. She realized her fingers were cold. The stranger’s legs opened as widely as the half off pants could accommodate. Ericka’s hand felt deeper, into the vagina with her middle finger, bringing moisture back out to the clitoris. Her middle finger was no longer cold. She slowly traced the clitoris again, finding it was the right side, the side towards her that aroused the stranger, who was letting out a low moan.
Ericka felt her left arm, folded under her so she could reach farther, was going to sleep. She rose up on her elbow. The blanket had been thrown to the side and Mandy lay on her back with her arms above her head, moving her hips with Ericka’s hand. Realizing what was happening sent a shock down Ericka’s spine, awaking her, but still her arousal remained and she continued to the masturbate Mandy. Mandy’s eyes were open, but un focused. She breathed through her mouth. Although she had very soft pubic hair, her pubic bone was so hard due to Mandy’s thinness, it nearly cut blood flow to Ericka’s hand. Her vagina seemed much more wet than hers ever got. The pace of Mandy’s pelvic motions increased and she seemed to stop breathing. Ericka increased her pace slightly as Mandy began to shake, then become rigid. She made several inhaling noises, but it sounded like her lungs were already full of air, the fell limp. Ericka let her hand linger for a second, then slowly pulled it away. Mandy seemed asleep, so Ericka pulled the blanket up over the two of them.
Ericka rolled over onto her side. She wondered if she had initiated all of that. She wondered if Mandy thought she was a freak, or if she would even remember it. Ericka’s ears pumped in her head. She knew she couldn’t sleep. Maybe she should drive again? And come onto her hip. Ericka tensed up. The hand pulled and guided her onto her back. In the darkness Ericka made out Mandy, up on one elbow, opening her belt and lowering Ericka’s pants.
Ericka jumped when Mandy’s cold fingers found her clitoris, but their slow deliberate pressure calmed her down. She opened her legs and breathed.

Medford greeted them with it’s familiarity, which was alien. She’d never really returned to a town, and it’s features, although predictable, seemed new and strange. It was mid afternoon, the sky was hazy. Both road weary, Ericka and Mandy had said little coming over the mountains. It seemed like there was much to think about, but Ericka’s head remained blank. A tired sadness came over her the closer she got to her apartment. She felt lonely all ready.
She felt almost on the verge of crying when she pulled into the parking spot at the bottom of the steps to her door. She paused for a second, with the engine running and looked over at Mandy but she was already out the door. Ericka got out and collected a few things from the back of the van. Mandy took the keys from her and turned towards the car. She then stopped and turned to Ericka and said, “Thank so much. I couldn’t have done that without you.” She hugged Ericka and got in her car and drove off. Ericka stood there holding her backpack like a life line.
Closing her door, she felt trapped. She could still feel the road moving beneath her, but the room was small and dark and the back wall seemed to be approaching. She dropped what she was holding and got into bed with her shoes on.
She seemed to remember every moment at once. The packed city, the road, the jokes, the mistakes the moments of pride; her heart beat deliberately.

The numb fatigue of the next morning made her feel better. Having not slept, her mind didn’t have the energy to obsess. The restaurant smelled the same damn way as she arrived for work. George was angry at someone from the last crew and was aloof. Coffee didn’t seem to wake her up and simple arithmetic escaped her. She knew she gave way too much change to a table, but just wanted the transaction over with so she walked curtly away from the table as the person stared at the change in their hand. It was a sick kind of tired and she was sweating.
As dusk fell she felt too tired to be at work and her mind conjured ways to escape. But she remembered she had faked illness to get out of work before going to Portland. It was a light period, and she felt she couldn’t blame her mood on that. She’d always had light periods with little affect on her mood, all the same as time passed she became more and more shaky. George’s mood lightened somewhat.
“What did they do you in the big city?” He asked during a lull. The front of his apron was greasy and he threw the spatula in the air and caught it over and over again.
“It was nuts,” Ericka said, drinking ice water with two hands to control the shaking.
“Oh? Were you mugged?”
“It was nuts. There was a huge protest riot thing. I got stuck in the middle of it. It was nuts.”
“You said that,” said George, missing a catch and dropping the spatula with a loud clatter on the floor. Ericka noticed the floor was filthy. The bitch from the last shift had neglected to sweep and mop. It made Ericka feel weak.
“Today sucks,” Ericka said.
“You don’t look so good. I mean you look good but in a tired kinda way,” George said. “I wish I could offer you something, but I’m tapped. No scratch till payday.”
“I just want to go home and die,” Ericka remembered Mandy and a cold chill shot down her back.
“Maybe you need a drink,” said George, walking back into the kitchen.
Sweat began to pour down Ericka’s face. It did sound like a good idea. She thought about Danny, but the fear rising in her spine made her loose her breath a little. She got goose bumps and felt very cold. Customers had just left and their table was dirty. She took a tray over to the table and began to load the plates and dishes. On glass was full of water and her hands shook as she tried to pick it up. She used two hands and placed it on the tray. The tray now loaded, she stared at it for a moment. Taking both hands she lifted the tray and walked towards the dishwashing sink. The glasses and plates banged loudly against each other. The more she tried to control the shaking, the more she shook. She felt almost no control over her arms. Slamming the tray down, she and stared at her arms in horror.
“Your a little young to shake like that, baby,” George said, producing a large bottle of McCormick’s whiskey. “We cook with this, it’s almost undrinkable. But it may help.” He poured some into a coffee cup and handed it to her. She took it with two hands and raised it to her mouth. The cup clanged against her teeth. The bitter sting of the liquid on her pallet gave her a kind of head rush. As the whiskey fought it’s way down to her stomach, a wave of real relief washed over her. She stood there gasping for a moment. She finished what was in the cup and put it down. George shrugged and refilled it. “Sometimes you gatta do what you gatta do.”
Ericka was somewhat shocked at her sense of relief. She leaned against the counter and was surprised that the strength had returned to her arms. She scrapped the plates clean at the dishwashers sink as the whiskey returned warmth all up and down her spine. Still trembling a little, she drank again from the coffee cup, then stored it on a high shelf.
She didn’t feel drunk when she finally finished her shift at sun up. Just lazy. She did all the side work that was expected of her. Her relief came in and she walked home, eager to sleep. Before going into her apartment, she stopped at her mail box. It was overflowing with letters. She grabbed the stack and trudged up the stairs. She dropped the letters on the floor and flopped into bed and slept.
She woke up with a start, not quite sure where she was. But after wiping her eyes she recognized the apartment. She could see she had hours before work and although she wasn’t tired, she closed her eyes again. Her mind seemed to drift in a sea of bodies. She remembered Mike on top of her, with one arm holding both her arms down above her head, with the other arm guiding his penis into her. But a cold panic rushed over her when she remembered Mandy’s body next to her. She sat up in bed.
She walked to the bathroom and sat on the toilet, though she knew she didn’t have to go. She pulled her tampon out, but it was clean. She stood in front of the mirror. As she was still fully dressed, she thought it was too much of a trouble undress and shower, so she put on deodorant. Her foot slipped on the stack of letters as she made her way into the kitchen. She stooped down and grabbed half of them and tucked them under her arm.
There was an quart of orange juice in the fridge, she grabbed it, sat on the kitchen counter and opened the first letter from Mike. There were Polaroid’s in it. She took them out, ignoring the letter. They were dark, arms length pictures of his penis. One had one of the pictures of her own vagina she had sent him in it. Another he had taken from above his head, aimed down. HE was looking up into the camera. He looked the same stern way. His muscles were larger though and his face was tanned almost brown. She decided she did love him. She opened another letter from him, this one had regular pictures of him in uniform with a gun standing next to a black man. He looked happy.
She cleaned the house and then went to the store. She bought eggs, butter, bread, milk and meat. She stocked the shelves and stood in the kitchen with her hands on her hips. Noticing crumbs on the counter, she decided to clean. As she opened the closet to see what she could use to clean, the phone rang. She charged over to it and picked up the receiver, but paused before picking it up. She mustered strength and put it up to her ear.
“Hello?”
“Ericka?”
“Yes.”
“It’s me, baby. It’s Mike.”
She couldn’t think of anything to say. The silence was strangely alive.
“How have you been?” He asked.
“Good.”
“Did you get my letters?”
“I just got them today.”
“Today?”
“Yeah. I’ve been in Portland.” A wave of guilt came over her.
“Oh yeah? I was wondering why I could never get a hold of you.”
“I have a job. I wait tables at the highway diner. I like it.”
“Good. Baby I miss you.”
“I miss you too. I do.”
“It’s weird here. Just weird. I miss you. I want to make love to you for twenty four straight hours when I get home.”
“Me too,” Ericka said, tears welling up in her eyes.
“I have to go,” Mike said and before Ericka could say anything she heard a click on the other end.
“Mike?” Ericka stood there listening to the dead silence for a while, then she put the phone down. Her hand lingered on the receiver for a long time as she bit her lower lip. With her other hand she fumbled with the sleeve of her sweater, pulling her hands into the cuffs. It was a funny feeling, as if they were about to go on a date. This made her remember she hadn’t bathed, which immediately made her feel awkward.
Her hair looked flat and oily in the bathroom mirror and she imagined her breath was awful. She squeezed some lingering toothpaste out onto her almost worn out brush. It was ridiculous to let her toothbrush to get so worn out. As she brushed her teeth, she undid her belt and lowered her pants and underwear. She had to hop few times to get her foot dislodged from the ends of her pants, which made toothpaste fly around the room. She leaned against the sink and took off her socks one at a time, then spit. She took off her sweater and under shirt, but all her momentum got sucked away by the mirror again. She stared at herself. Her breasts shook slightly with her heart beat. Her eyes seemed harder than she remembered as they sternly judged herself.
She turned the water on hot and stood in the shower, protecting her core from the almost scalding water. She cleaned herself thuraly, almost frantically, leaving no hole or joint unscrubbed. Briefly she considered masturbating to the new images she’d gotten from Mike’s letter, but the thought of doing so seemed to trap her in a moment. Instead she took one of ten or so disposable razors, lathered up her legs and shaved them. It took several passes to make them somewhat smooth. She spent a lot of time on the space above her ankle. It seemed the foot was a feminine thing and any hair on it spoiled that image.
Stepping out of the shower, she looked with disdain at the bathroom. It was cramped and dirty. There was one towel in a corner, but it seemed filthy. She walked dripping wet into the living room, picking up clothes and smelling them, settling on some summer attire she’d neglected for sometime. It didn’t smell detergent clean, but it also didn’t smell like sweat and omelets.
While sliding into a sun dress and sweater, she felt a strong pang of hunger in her gut. It was so strong it filled her with a sense of fatigue. She stood motionless for a time, one hand on her gut, the other half in her sweater hanging abover her head. She mustered some adrenaline and kept going. Somewhat stymied by the decision weather to wear clean socks or matching socks, she stood over a pile of socks, hands slightly shaking. She settled on matching socks, as her legs would be visible. She ran her hands down them. They weren’t perfect by any means, but they looked shaved.
She grabbed her keys and charged out the door. It was an overcast day and it smelled as if it would drizzle at any time. The walk was short, even shorter as she charged to work. Everything seemed to be going slow. The cooks, the other waitresses, the customer’s ordering. She, however, was on fire. She did all the sidework; rolling silver ware, cleaning and restocking, so the afternoon waitress went home early, which was a relief as Ericka was annoyed with how slow she was moving. Right after the afternoon waitress left, Ericka found herself with several tables with complex orders and all with funny little stories they just had to tell her. When they spoke to her, it was almost as if they were speaking a different language. She just waited for the nouns; omelet, steak, etc.
It was almost s if she were dancing. She made broad circle, beginning with the register, she’d seat people as they came in, taking orders and requests on her way back around the counter where she’d post her ticket’s for George. She’d then get cutlery and water pitchers behind the register and come out by the front door again to find more people who needed sat. Looking up she noticed rain coming down now in sheets. It must have been pushing people off the Interstate. Looking over her shoulder into the kitchen she didn’t see George, but she did see a knife flying around indicating George was spun and ready for a rush.
If people complained Ericka would stand stone faced awaiting the nature of the complaint, then swoop away with the dish and get it fixed. Children and their massive messes didn’t bother her at all. The long faced flirty truck drivers, familiar with the ebb and flow of diners didn’t bother talk to her as they knew they’d get no response. Four hours flew by, in fact the only way Ericka became aware of the time was that she was lavishing an amazing amount of attention on one table, which made her realize the dinning room was nearly empty. She suspected she must be tired, so she sat with a cup of coffee at the counter. Looking into the black liquid, the reflection of the overhead lights in it’s rippled surface made all of her energy escape her.
She barely managed to finish the last table with any level of coherence. When they finally left, she collapsed by her cup again. The rain had stopped outside. She wanted desperately to sleep.
“Have you eaten?” George’s sudden appearance behind her made her jump.
“No,” she wanted to say more.
“What can I get you?” George was frantically chewing at noting.
“Ham and eggs, please. Thank you,” but George had already disappeared into the kitchen. Ericka rested heavily on one arm. She considered asking George for whiskey, or maybe some more of that powder. Peering out the glass front door she prayed no one came in. A wave of nausea and ugly irrational fear rolled over her back.
She tried sitting in a different position in her chair, resting her head on her arm, but she still felt amazingly uncomfortable. She looked down at her shaking hands. She was acutely aware of the sound and light of the diner. It was horrible. She realized she was squirming almost violently. A heavy sensation seemed to make breathing hard. The thought crossed her mind she had to go home, but she knew it would be worse there. She had no idea what the hell was happening to her.
George put the plate in front of her saying, “Buenos Suerte.”
Ericka forced a smile. It was an ugly conglomerate of reds and sic yellows. She cut the ham and put a piece in her mouth. It sat there, flavorless. A feeling like the need to vomit welled up in her, but she knew she had nothing to vomit. Chewing it was alienating. There was no liquid in her mouth. The hospital seemed briefly attractive, but she had no idea how she’d explain the feeling. She poured Tabasco sauce on the meat and added another piece to her mouth although she had not yet swallowed the last. Strange thoughts of a quick death came charging into her mind. She pushed them away, but the strange horror lingered, so she entertained them.
There were so many decisions. She could stand and walk out into the night, maybe go home, but home was a tiny terrifying cage. She could stay and work, but that seemed horrible. She could take the knife she was using on the ham and slam it into her eye. She could stand and scream, but it seemed like almost all those ideas led to more of the feeling that seemed to be killing her at that moment. Hell, she could throw the plate across the dinning room. Futility.
She swallowed. The food seemed heavy and useless.
A man came through the door with a young child in his arms. He wasn’t so young that he needed to be carried, but as it was late, the child was asleep. The man stood in front of a booth for a moment, pondering the child’s face. He switched all the child’s weight to one arm while maneuvering half his coat off the other arm. He repeated this motion with his other arm after transferring the sleeping child to the coatless arm. Once free of his coat, he made a sort of bed on the bench seat with it. He then put the sleeping child down.
Ericka automatically got a menu and walked over to the booth. She handed the man a menu. He mouthed ‘coffee,’ and pointed at his cup. Ericka turned to retrieve him coffee. Half of her wanted to run for the door. But then again she couldn’t think of where to go after that. She poured him coffee as he gazed down at the sleeping kid.
“Burger and a cheese burger to go,” he whispered.
Ericka nodded and gave George the ticket. George looked up from some furious cleaning and took the ticket without loosing momentum. Ericka leaned against the kitchen window and listlessly watched the man sip his coffee and listlessly look out the window. There was a big semi truck in the parking lot with parking lights on and she wondered if it was his.
She could hear the meat sizzling behind her and it gave her chills. She turned suddenly and walked into the kitchen. George dipping the fries and turning the meat and grilled cheese all at once and while barely noticing her, he pulled down the bottle of whiskey.
Ericka reached into the sink and found a coffee cup with a little bit off coffee left in it. She poured it out and nearly filled the dirty cup with whiskey. Looking down into the liquid in her cup she was assaulted by it’s noxious fumes. A wave of real grief rolled over her as she slammed half the cup down. The grief was quickly replaced by nausea. She gripped the edge of sink and salivated heavily. George looked over and noticed her drooling heavily into the basin and grinned. He hit the bell on the counter and said loudly, “Order up!”
Ericka carefully examined the contents of the sink. There were eight or nine dinners worth of plates sitting in it waiting to be rinses. There was catsup on one place and she could see were the diner had dragged French fries through it. The light was harsher and whiter in the kitchen than out on the floor. Her drool seemed to be the only clean clear liquid in the sink. She tired to name the little dishes that sauces came in and the word didn’t come to her. Something like, ‘ramadon.’
“Order up!” Ericka began to grin a little. She pictured herself serving dishes while drool poured out onto the plates. “You need a chaser, girl. Drink some water or something.”
Ericka groped for the hanging hose for rinsing plates. With out breaking eye contact with the abyss of the sink, she found the nozzle and guided it down to her face. She aimed it into her mouth and squeezed the handle. Water exploded onto her face and hit the wall behind her. By this time George was hysterical with laughter, “Order up!”
The shock of the warm water stopped Ericka salivating. She had sprayed her eyes and was somewhat without vision as she reached for a rag, but the water on the floor caused her to loose footing. She fell heavily onto her hip, pulling down several large mixing bowls down with her. George rushed over and helped her up. By this time he was speechless with laughter. He tried to muster an, “are you all right?” but never got past “are...”
Ericka pushed him away and walked into the dining room, vaguely aware she was dripping. She got the plates off the counter and took them over to the table. The crash from her falling must have awakened the child who looked around groggy eyed at the diner. When she was nearly at the table she realized there was a steady stream of water coming off her head and hitting her arms. She put the plates on edge of the table so she wouldn’t have to reach across and get water all over everything. “Is that everything?” she asked, but really more stated, quickly turned and left.
She burst into the bathroom and was shocked by what she saw in the mirror. Her hair was drenched and flat. Her sweater was dark and damp. Her white apron was also visibly damp in a perfect square covering her crotch. She threw her head back and laughed in a sort of shaky relieved way.
She staggered out into the dinning room, past the table where the man and child sat and burst back into the kitchen. She finished her whiskey as George came in from out back, furiously rubbing his nose. He grinned at her. She shook her head at him.
“What did your table say,” he asked.
“I don’t know. I slammed the food down and got the hell out,” Ericka said, smiling over her cup.
Ericka proceeded to get tanked over the rest of her shift. George obliged as he was getting quite spun himself. Business was slow, and the orders simple. Ericka had done most of her side work in her earlier period of frantic productivity. She managed to eat some ham and eggs, which killed her buzz momentarily so she drank more. By dawn, she was staggering and knocking things over. George left before she did as the morning rush cook did a lot of prep work before the morning crew came on. When Ericka’s replacement came on, Erica kept her mouth shut and slipped out un-noticed.
The streets were clean and the clouds had disappeared. It was a cold morning. Big pick-ups idled in driveways, warming up for the commute. A big yellow school buss passed Ericka, kicking up a breeze. Her little dress did very little to fight the cold and she pulled her arms in side her sleeves. She imagined she’d feel a lot colder if she wasn’t so drunk. The walk seemed a lot longer than usual and she had the urge to sit and take off her shoes like an infant. The memory of falling down drenched then serving a table crossed her mind, which made her laugh out loud. She put her hand over her mouth as she realized how drunk she must look to any one watching. She looked around and saw a gray cat sitting next to a garbage can. She ‘shh’ed it.
By the time she reached the steps of her apartment, she was almost asleep. Her hands shivered with the keys in the lock of her door. She dropped them, and while on her hands and knees, remembered she seldom locked the door. She stood with help from the door knob, but putting weight on it caused the knob to turn and the door to fly open. Unbalanced she fell face first into the apartment. She lay on the floor for a while, laughing until a breeze made her realize her skirt was folded up over her back. She stood and staggered over to the refrigerator and opened it.
She ran her hands over the different items in the fridge while gently swaying. She decided on a wine cooler for dinner/breakfast. She opened the bottle, closed the refrigerator door and began to walk towards the bathroom to pee. Half way there she stopped and squinted. Why the hell was there food in her fridge? She staggered back and opened the fridge door again and picked up a raw tomato and squinted at it. “Who are you and where do you come from?” she asked it. She put it down and inhaled her wine cooler. She again began to make her way to the bathroom, but stopped half way there again, returned to the fridge, put her empty wine cooler in the fridge and took out a fresh one and closed the door.
Again she made her way to the bathroom, stopping now at the front door to close it. In the bathroom she nearly fell forward into the tub lowering her underwear, but managed to keep her balance. As she peed she opened another wine cooler. She almost fell asleep on the pot, but the act of falling over woke her up enough to muster the energy to go to bed. She tripped on her underwear, still on one foot and fell just short of the bed and fell asleep with half her body on the carpet.

She lay, awake with her eyes closed for a long time. Still drunk, she was too nauseous to sleep. Her eyes were dry and crusted together, so she couldn’t look at the clock. She couldn’t have slept long. Vague memories from the end of the night came to her. She didn’t think she did anything too bad at work. She made it home OK. She wiggled her toes. They were warm under her blanket. She stretched little and realized she was naked. Her eyes opened. There was something different. Her only memory was falling asleep half on the floor. Her room was dark as the curtains were closed. She looked at the time. It was only noon. Propping herself up on her elbows caused an explosion of pain in her head. Her eyes couldn’t quite focus on anything, but everything seemed different. The floor was clean, no clothes laying around. On the counter there was what looked like flowers. Ericka crawled half way to the kitchen, then stood. She finished her journey and opened the fridge. It was full of food. She opened a drawer. It too was full with clean dishes, caned goods and a her favorite brand of cheap wine.
Briefly she panicked thinking Mike was home. But it was too clean for that. It must have been Mandy.
A chill ran up Ericka’s body. The kitchen floor was cold and fall air made her naked skin shiver. She staggered into the bathroom, which was also spotless. It smelled like Mandy, only much more intense. Her bath stuff was everywhere. All her lotions and shampoos adorned the shelves. Ericka turned on the hot water in the tub and rubbed her eyes. She’d have to do some serious thinking here.
Holding her own soap in her hands, Ericka realized it’s inferiority. It was nearly empty anyhow, so she looked at some of Mandy’s lotions. Her eyes were blurry and her head was still swimming and she could quite figure out what some of the words meant. She hoped the gels were for the hair, as she put them on. She used the strange massive sponge in conjunction with the odd colored soap on her body. The shower filled with the intense smell of Mandy.
Stepping out and drying with a clean towel was a nice feeling. The steam held the citrus smells of the shampoos in the air as she brushed her teeth in the foggy mirror. As she dried her hair, she realized it was more soft and fuller than she was accustomed to. Brushing it wasn’t painful either. Rummaging through her pile of dirty clothes she found a shirt that seemed clean, but in comparison to her new found cleanliness, it smelled like restaurants, tears and sleep. Ericka eyed Mandy’s clothes, neatly folded in a suitcase. She stooped over them, naked. Trying not to disturb the order of the careful folding of the garments, she took the clothes on top which were a pair of panties covered in butterflies, a slightly baggy pair of corduroys and a purple blouse.
She felt as if she were in disguise, posing in front of the full length mirror, usually hidden behind the open bathroom mirror. Although a little early still for work, Ericka strode out the door in one of Mandy’s hoodies. There was a coffee shop down the way past her diner and she always wanted to sit in there, as she’d seen people do, almost stoically.
The afternoon air was wet and the sky white. It was a subdued light that was perfect for her current hungover state. She varied her path as to avoid the dinner, taking an alley that ran parallel to the main street. The back yards of houses were abandoned save a few suspicious cats, eyeing her progress. Ericka imagined what she would do with real estate like that. She could see herself puttering around as a child, exploring garages and natural shelters behind trees and bushes, but now she wasn’t sure. It seemed as If the owner of the properties didn’t either. Some had rusty lawnmowers and motor cycles laying about.
There were puddles in the ruts in the gravel on the road and she saw herself in them as she stepped over them. It was a good day, she told herself appearing back on a main road, with it’s cacophony of rush hour sounds. She walked the short blocks to the coffee shop, paused at the door, then confidently walked in.
She was greeted by the warm smell of roasting beans and warm air. A man sitting at a couch looked up at her as she entered, she quickly looked away. A chipper young girl nearly exploded with an, “Hello!” from behind the counter, taking Ericka of her game. This immediate social contact meant Ericka would quickly have to choose a drink, as the woman stared at her. “What can I get you?”
Ericka looked up at a menu and saw it must have been written in a different language. It was arranged in a sort of grid with exotic names to the left and on top a sequence of numbers. Filling the grid was prices. This was particularly tricky, as just looking at the menu yielded a random price without reference to a drink unless one had a steady enough eye to follow the other numbers back to the correct drink. Ericka had the vague impulse to clear the counter with her forearm and storm out.
“What can I get you?”
Her expression didn’t crack as she repeated her inquiry. Ericka briefly met her gaze, searching for a sign of an intended insult. No, she was simply nuts. Ericka’s eyes wandered back to the menu. She hoped for some violent distraction to enable an escape. Perhaps a crash on the street. She felt the guy at the couch looking at her too.
“Do you serve beer,” Ericka said, vainly.
“No... need something stronger, do you?” Every time you speak I need something even stronger, Ericka thought to herself.
“Just joking,” Ericka forced a smile. “Can I get that?” Ericka pointed at a cup on the counter with a hand made sign sticking out reading, ‘Red eye.’
“Two shots or one?” The lady behind the counter produced a cup and pointed it at Ericka.
“Two,” Ericka said, thinking she’d like to shoot this woman twice. The woman behind the counter made some strange noises with a machine with her back turned to Ericka. Ericka turned her own back to the counter and leaned against it. She realized she was frowning, which wasn’t such a bad feeling. ‘Fuck em,’ she thought, thinking of what George muttered when she brought plates back to him with special requests. The street was packed with commuters. A crazy man limped into view and randomly waved at cars. He had a large beard and tattered clothes. It made her smile for a moment, then she thought of what her mother had once told her when she dressed up as a hobo for Halloween.
“A lot of people who are homeless are war veterans and have mental problems.” She had said this after for the first year, refused to help her with her costume. It was an uneasy feeling. Her mother was asleep when she got home that night, the TV showing images of the first gulf war.
Ericka realized the guy at the couch thought he was being stared at. She turned as the person behind the counter produced her drink. Ericka peered into the black liquid. It smelled burnt. Ericka paid her, tipped a quarter in the ceramic tip mug and took her steaming liquid to a table covered in decanters of milk. She added cream and put the lid on and turned to find a table, but shakers full of spices caught her eye and she turned back. One read chocolate, so she unhinged her cup and shook chocolate into it. Another one read Cinnamon, so she shook some of that in there too.
She sat at a window seat next to the recycled papers and found the crossword puzzle. Her coffee was lot stronger that the stuff they had at work, but it perked her up and made her concentrate intensely on the crossword clues. Some time passed in this trance of grammar and synonyms when she was startled by a fold piece of paper plopped on top of the puzzle. The man at the couch had dropped it off, then scurried out the door. Ericka unfolded it and saw it was a drawing of her hunched over her puzzle. She was showing considerable amount of cleavage. It flattered her and made her blush.
Work was a worried breeze. She found she could keep the hangover at bay if she continued to drink coffee. Her hands shook and her mind often wandered towards the half gallon of whiskey in the kitchen. She found she could compensate for the shake by using two hands on simple items such as coffee and water poured from pitchers. She was planning stopping by the store on her way home and getting sleeping pills to coax her through her coming days off. The dinning room had been empty for a long time so she decided to have a cigarette with George before shift change. She didn’t smoke, but she liked the ritual and excuse to shuffle ones feet outside.
“When’s G-I Joe coming home?” George asked anxiously, chewing at nothing in his mouth.
“A year and some, I think.”
“What does he do over there?” George lit a second cigarette. The way he was inhaling them made them seem appetizing.
“Security, I think.”
“You think? Is it classified? I’m not a terrorist... anymore.”
“It sounds like he’s doing security. I’ve only talked him like once,” Ericka kicked some trash underneath a dumpster.
“Oh? Do you guys write?”
“Yeah, all the time. We just talked a while ago.”
“You seemed prettier. I mean your always pretty, but you seemed prettier,” George said, glancing over his glowing cigarette. Ericka blushed. She had noticed it seemed like she had more hair on her head all day. She could smell it occasionally over the coffee, eggs, hamburgers and onions of the dinner.
“I got to do some cleaning, you have a good few days off,” George swept past her with spun importance. Ericka lingered outside and scanned the clouds for a sign of the raising sun. She again thought about sleeping pills, or wine, shopping... something to put off going home. It wasn’t that she dreaded Mandy, it was more that she didn’t know what to say to her. She devised a plan. She’d quietly take the TV and put it on the kitchen counter, watch The Rockford Files, which were on before Perry Mason in the early morning before the God shows and drink herself to sleep.
She did her side work in the dinner, counted her tips and handed the keys to the register to the girl replacing her. She put on her hoodie and walked out into the early morning.
Ericka paused by her door, before opening it. She briefly ran through the scenario that she’d wake Mandy with noise and have to talk to her. She’d warmly welcome her and thank her for cleaning then insist she went back to sleep. She slid the door open and winced at the squeaking of the hinges. Inside it was a lot warmer than she was accustomed to keeping it. By the light of her alarm clock she could barely make out what looked like a lump in the bed. She opened the fridge door to provide a low light to place and took a wine cooler. Tasting it’s sickly sweet flavor she realized she could kill for a beer. She downed the whole thing in a very unlady like manor and tip toed over to the TV next to the bed where Mandy lay. She un-plugged it and carried it to the kitchen counter making very little noise. She got another wine cooler, closed the kitchen door and turned on the TV while turning the volume all the way down.
The uncomfortable position of leaning against the counter while straining to listen to the TV compelled her to drink rapidly to make it at all fun. Jim Rockford powered through the streets of North Holly Wood in his thunderbird and made Ericka long to be there. During a commercial she peeked through the blinds over the kitchen sink. One of the neighbors was warming up an old Datsun pick-up truck in the parking lot. Mandy’s Mini Van was tucked in a far space. Cars passed on the road and the near by hill topped by a retirement home all spelled doom in the dim morning light. Ericka began to wish she’d bought the sleeping pills. At least she could sleep her weekend away.
Rockford Bled into Perry Mason, but the black and white couldn’t nearly hold her attention. She was beginning to feel drunk, which made her feel antsy. Occasionally she’d glance over her shoulder at the lump of Mandy. Now she begun to yearn for her to awake. She’d set down her bottle to loudly, or cough. She turned up Perry Mason a little. That show always made her a little uneasy. She always wondered if Paul Drake ever fucked Della Street, or if Perry had ever done Street, or if Mrs. Street was a virgin. A commercial came on touting a career in the military. It showed a montage of images of women flying helicopters to the old Bay Watch Theme. It made the military seem like an embarrassing dream. She imagined someone yelling at her to execute a sharp turn and blow up a tank and her saying, “I don’t know how the fuck to fly this thing!” It was a corny and annoyingly long commercial. It almost made Ericka push the TV off the counter. She was very relieved when it ended and faded to black. But right after it ended, it began anew. Ericka grunted, smacked the on off button and stormed over to the bed and pounced on Mandy.
“Get up. Come on. We going to breakfast.” Mandy did not move at first. This did not deter Ericka. “Up. Up,” Mandy groaned in response. Ericka turned to see her abandoned wine cooler on the counter. She drug herself to her feet and retrieved it, then walked over to Mandy and straddled her and bounced on her gut saying, “Up, up,” every time she landed on her.
“What’s wrong?” Mandy said, flexing her stomach and trying to turn on her side.
“It’s breakfast time. Yay breakfast,” Ericka said, then drank the rest of her bottle.
“What?”
“I said... Up up up up.”
“Fine then. I want breakfast. I want ham and eggs. Do you hear me?”
“OK,” Mandy was sitting up now. “What time is it?”
“Time for ham and eggs. Or eggs and ham if you’ll please.” Ericka waddled into the kitchen. “I need a fucking beer!” She took a wine cooler and opened it and made to return to Mandy to goad her on, but she was gone, the bathroom door open and the shower was going. Ericka made an annoyed noise and burst into the bathroom and flopped down on the toilet seat. “Hi.”
“What are you doing?”
“I’m hanging out. Here. What are you doing?”
“I’m taking a shower.”
“I can see that. Want a drink?”
“I can see you can see that. No I don’t want a drink, I just woke up.”
“I can see that. Come on. Just one drinky poo? Have drink with me. I had a long day. I served like seven million omelets and chicken fried steaks. One table the guy had a gun and he took his omelet hostage. I was so cool. You know? I said, ‘listen man. It aint worth it.’ and he was like, ‘OK.’ It was sweet.” A silence came over the bathroom. Ericka drank some more. “Do you work today?”
“No.” Mandy’s silhouette reveled she was washing her hair. Her profile looked somewhat like a truckers mudflap.
“Want some breakfast? Ham and eggs?”
“Maybe.”
“We’ll go out. My treat. It’s my Friday night. Baby.”
“It’s Monday morning, 8am.”
“Can I help it if I’m an omelet slinger?”
“OK. Where do you wanna go?” Mandy was scrubbing her face with one of those ominous chemicals from one of the bottles in the shower that did not say shampoo or conditioner.
“I want a Bloody Marry,” Ericka said, finishing her bottle. “I want a jute box.”
The water in the shower turned off and Mandy’s silhouette waited. Ericka watched. “Ah hem.”
“OK, sorry,” Ericka left the bathroom and paced in the kitchen.
In the van Mandy was tired and flustered. Ericka had hurried her out of the apartment and her hair was still wet. The smells of her shower filled the van. Without thinking Ericka had assumed the driver’s seat and they both sat in silence for a moment, wondering vaguely what was missing.
“Keys,” Ericka finally said. Mandy thrust her hand into her purse and produced them.
“Where are we going?” Mandy said with some annoyance.
“Breakfast and a jute box. It’s Friday,” Ericka responded with her neck craned back to back up the vehicle.
It felt odd to do the commute she’d watched so many mornings walking home. Sitting in traffic at a light peering into a car with a stoic man or a haggard woman with a child sitting in the set next to her. Mandy acted somewhat like one of those children. She sat quietly, playing with her hair, occasionally yawning.
Ericka liked the look of Medford, passing fluidly by on River street. There were many old cinder block hotels with broken neon signs. There were closed night clubs, Mexican restaurants and pool halls. Pay day loan stores were just opening and cars sat in patient lines at fast food places waiting for their turns at the drive through. Other cars sat like puppies waiting to be adopted at the many used car lots. Folks sat bundled up waiting for busses and the occasional homeless man trudged along pushing a cart. As Ericka passed her dinner, she flipped it off. She could see it was quite full. She saw a hotel with a restaurant just passed a light that had caught her and she deduced they’d have booze for her. She swung in after the light changed.
Mandy looked about as if to indicate, ‘here?’ but Ericka didn’t pay any heed and burst out of the van. Mandy followed close behind. Ericka thought as the automatic doors to the hotel lobby opened that it was nice Mandy moved in and it was nice that they hadn’t spoken of it or made a big deal about it. It was a good fit.
A friendly but obese hostess met them at the front of the restaurant. “Two?” she asked. Ericka turned as if to count, paused as if to do the math, then nodded. Mandy stifled a chuckle. They followed her through the dinning room until the bar caught Ericka’s eye.
“Excuse me, miss,” Ericka had always wanted to call someone else ‘miss,’ as she really hated being called ‘miss,’ herself. “We were wondering if we could sit in the bar.”
“Sure. I could use a cigarette myself,” and with that she led them into the dark room. “Company,” She said and placed the menus on the table. A man looked up at them.
“Thank god,” he said smiling a broad fake smile and perking up in his chair.
“Can I get you two anything to start?” the portly waitress said.
“Bloody Mary’s, please,” Ericka said, noticing Mandy’s annoyed look in her peripheral vision.
“Can I just take a peek at your ID’s?”
Ericka produced both of theirs as she had the forethought to head off any subconscious sabotage on Mandy’s part. The waitress glanced at them and gave them back then went behind the bar.
The man with the fake smile leaned in and said, “She makes them good.”
“That’s good,” Ericka said, half smiling. As the waitress made the drinks, the man slid one stool closer, leaving just three separating him from Mandy who was sitting in-between him and Ericka.
“You two here on business?” he said. Ericka sensed something nasty in his tone.
“Yeah,” she answered.
“Oh yeah? What’s your business?”
“Omelets.”
“Oh,” he said, somewhat confused. The waitress produced their drinks. As Mandy was uncomfortable, she picked hers up immediately at sipped at it. Ericka sucked at hers, but coughed a little.
“Too spicy?” the man with the fake smile said. Ericka didn’t like that he had been watching.
“No, I was just a little too... eager.” Ericka was quickly boring with this guy. She turned to talk to Mandy who was sitting somewhat awkwardly on her stool. Ericka’s mind passed over some conversation topics, but found few. She resorted to talking about what she was so pleased they had as of yet not spoken of. “So, why’d you move in? I love that you did...”
“Oh. I got in a fight about Brian. I mean me being gone and all. I don’t know. I need to get the hell out. I don’t know. I hoped you wouldn’t mind so much...”
“Not at all. I love that you did. I’m such a fucking slob. I don’t mean you have to clean up for me, but it’s nice. I don’t know what to do with myself in there... the apartment I mean. I’m glad. Really.”
“Good. I just got fed up. You know. I talked to Danny and he said I should look for a place for us because we got the money now.”
“Oh you talked to Danny? When?” Ericka looked up from her ice cubes and celery.
“Two nights ago? He E-mailed that he would call and I waited by the phone for like four hours.”
“How is he,” Ericka looked back down at her ice cubes and celery as she sucked through the straw. It was a little too spicy. She wondered if Mandy remembered.
“He’s OK. He’s tired. He says he’s lost a lot of weight which is weird cause he didn’t have much to loose anyway. I’m so tired of worrying.”
“Did you hear anything about Brian?”
“Yeah, he finally was arraigned. He got a public defender and my father is going to spend weekends in Portland for a while. It’s nice knowing where he is, you know? I mean with Danny it’s a big country on the other side of the world. With Brian it’s a small room in Portland,” Mandy finished her drink. She seemed to be hunched over it. Ericka smiled at her and put her hand on her head, then almost roughly mussed up her wet hair.
“It’s OK. It is. It really is,” Ericka said, then stood and walked over to the jute box. She scanned the CD’s. They were mostly top 40’s from years ago. It frustrated her and she walked back to her spot at the bar as the waitress returned.
“Yall know what you want?”
“Hamm and eggs,” said Ericka smiling broadly and handing her the menu. “And two more bloody Marys”
“I’ll get the next round,” the man with the fake smile said.
“Well that’s nice of you,” the waitress said. “And you Hon?”
Mandy scanned the menu. It was obvious she hadn’t looked yet. “Umm. Can I get a bagel and some cottage cheese?”
“Sure thing,” the chubby waitress smiled and went behind the bar.
“Omelets?” The man said.
“And some omelets for my friend here,” Ericka said
“Yeah Hon? I thought you were drinking your breakfast,” the waitress said looking up from her magic bottles.
“I am. She’s playing with me. Omelets... You said your in the business of omelets,” said the man.
“I did say that,” Ericka said coyly looking past the rigid body of Mandy.
“Well, I’m in the business of sales,” the man said, un prompted.
“For boats?” Ericka said, looking past the man at the paper on the table wondering if there was an intact crossword puzzle in it.
“Of boats? No. I sell auto equity. Bet ya don’t know what that is,” He said.
“Nope. Mandy do you still work at the clothing store?” Ericka said changing her focus.
“Yeah. Still part time,” Mandy forced a grin with a straw in her mouth. It made Ericka wonder why she was grinning.
“We should go there after. I want some clothes. Something for the rain, maybe. Do you have a discount?” Mandy brightened to this suggestion. Clothes and stores were her turf. Bars and perverts were fast becoming Ericka’s.
“Auto equity is selling money to car dealerships. So I’m not a car salesman, but...”
“Sort of the king of the car salesman,” Ericka interjected. The man took pride in that assessment until he realized the insult.
“It means I get stuck in crummy towns like this selling Billy Joe Bob money and lines of credit for his customers who can afford a pot to piss in.”
“Sounds fulfilling. I sell Billy Joe Bob omelets. He uses our pot. It’s past the register, down the hall on the right,” Ericka said.
“Say, do you girls play pool?”
“Not really, but I wouldn’t mind learning,” Ericka said, standing up. She caught Mandy’s anxious gaze. Ericka was angling to get their breakfast paid for too.
Ericka and the man, still smiling, walked over to the corner of the bar where the pool tables sat. He chose two cues and put quarters in the machine, causing the balls to roll out. e turned a light on above the felt. Ericka leaned against her cue and examined the texture of the table. The way the light hit the surface, it obscured ones vision of the rest of the bar such that the table’s surface became one’s whole reality. Down at the other end of the table the man knelt down and began to produce balls from the machine as if it were laying eggs. When he had got them all out, he produced a plastic triangle from the same place and slapped it on the table. He put all the balls in the triangle taking great care to order them in some fashion. “Do you know how to break?”
Ericka shook her head. The man walked down to her end of the table and leaned over it and showed her how to hold the stick, then stood. Ericka tried to mimic his stance, but he wasn’t satisfied and from behind corrected her hands. “Now aim for the center of the ball, but make a line with the cue to the first ball down there.” Ericka shot. Her ball went straight and made contact with the triangle of balls. A few rolled away. She was satisfied.
“That was a good first try, but let me show you something.” The man rearranged the balls in the triangle and returned to her end of the table. He carefully aimed and shot. His shot was far more violent and the crack of his ball hitting the others startled Ericka. The balls scattered all over the table, three or four going in pockets. “That’s how I do it. I need another drink. What will you have?”
The empty beer bottles seemed to collect at the table faster than she drank them. But Ericka was happy to be drinking beer. It was far less harsh going down and wasn’t overwhelming in flavor. Mandy had joined them at a near by table and the drunker she got, the more effusive and enthusiastic over Ericka’s game. Ericka was getting killed over and over, but she felt like she was getting the hang of the game. The man, who introduced himself but she promptly forgot the name, had done a few inappropriate things like smack her butt when she made a shot, but the beer was making her happy regardless.
After a game when the man played particularly sloppy, the man stopped and met Ericka’s gaze. Ericka was ready for more pool, but the man seemed to be loosing to the booze. “Girls. I really didn’t sleep last night. I feel like an ass saying this but I have to recharge somehow. Believe me, when I tell this story to my sales reps at tonight’s meeting, it will end differently. Say. You guys... snort cocaine? Coke?”
Ericka shrugged. She looked at Mandy who was obscured by the bright lamp between them. “Sure.”
“All right then. Want to come to my room? No funny business. Just a line or two and we’ll take it from there?”
“Sure.”
Out in the hallways of the hotel, Ericka wasn’t nearly as sure footed. She held on to Mandy’s arm. The daylight was unbelievably harsh on her eyes. She looked over at the man and he was squinting too. The thought crossed her mind that he was going to rape them, but then she thought she could take him with Mandy’s help. They got in the elevator and the man yawned as he pushed the button. The elevator too was bright with a harsh white light. The carpet was a mess of purples like cheap wine vomit. Ericka too was beginning to feel tired.
The hallways on the fourth floor were dim. They passed a Mexican maid who was taking items from her cart in the hall into a room. The man used his key card when they got to his door. He showed his age by not being able to see whether the card was right side up or not. He swayed as she squinted at the card entering the device. When he got the door open, the room exploded out into the hall with light. He swore and walked across the room and pulled the curtains.
“Had a few reps over last night. One of them had an eight ball. I haven’t done this shit in years, but what the hell. They don’t drug test car sales man kings.” On a glass table there was a large mess of white powder which looked like spilled powdered sugar. Ericka wondered if it was as strong as George’s powder, one little dab of which nearly killed her.
“Help yourself,” he said, pouring himself a shot into a little hotel glass then collapsing on the bed next to the powder. Ericka sat next to him, then Mandy followed. The man used his key card and made a line as long as Ericka’s pinkie and snorted it through half a pen than was laying next to the powder. He then straightened up and looked more awake, but not as if he were about to explode as Ericka had felt when she had done George’s powder. With slightly shaking hands, Ericka mimicked the man’s line, snorted half of it, but got a full lung. She sat up and felt remarkably better. Sober, yet a little excited. She leaned down and finished her line, then made one for Mandy. Mandy apparently had done this sort of thing before and quickly disposed of her line, making Ericka a little jealous.
“Do you guys live here?”
“Yeah. We do. All of out lives. Little old Medford. Drives me nuts sometimes. Sometimes it’s OK. I don’t know. Home’s home, you know,” Ericka blabbed.
“Ever think about moving?” He asked.
“I have yeah, but I can’t think to where. I don’t have a skill or what ever. I mean it’s hard to get out of here, you know? I mean most guys join the military. Some people go to college. But I don’t know what I’d do there. I mean I hated... hated high school. Why would I want something that apparently is high school only more intense? I don’t know. It’s like a trapped feeling,” this time Mandy had spoken, but Ericka was in such complete agreement it almost hurt.
“I can’t stand going home. Hell, I hate hotels but hotels have these bars you can use like toilet paper and flush down the interstate toilet and never see again,” the man said. That image impressed Ericka.
“You sell equity? What the fuck does that mean? Sounds like selling air or something,” Ericka asked.
“It is hard. You have a credit card? No? You?” He pointed at Mandy’s wedding ring. “That must have cost a lot of money. Did you finance?”
“Yes”
“I sell that jeweler the ability for him to allow you to make payments. It’s confusing. I have to explain it five days a week though.”
“So maybe we could go to a car lot and you could talk them into giving me a brand new car,” Ericka spoke this time.
“Hell, baby. With two pay stubs they’ll give you anything. You don’t need me. That’s the thing. You can get anything you want, you just got to pay it off for ever.”
“Anything?”
“Anything. That’s the strangest thing about sales. You gatta give them what they don’t need. That’s why I kinda envy waiters and waitresses. Your giving people something they vaguely want.” As the man spoke, Ericka remembered her Ham and eggs she hadn’t touched and left sitting on the bar. “If I were to work in your restaurant, I’d have to try and sell them the most expensive thing’ every time and not take no for an answer. It’s exhausting.”
“That sucks,” Mandy said emphatically. Ericka nodded.
“I don’t know. I made half a million last year before taxes.”
That sounded like a lot to Ericka, but the she couldn’t imagine what she’d send it on.
“I’d get a nice big house,” Mandy said. Ericka imagined a house. An old one, maybe in the next town. It seemed nice.
“Yeah, well. I’m on the road so damn much I bought a nice car. Most of my money goes to fight this fucking war and to my ex wife and kids.”
“What do you think of this war?” Ericka said, boldly.
“Me? Shit. I know I’m in hostile territory, a city boy in the country, but I think it’s a nasty way for the country to get oil.”
“You really think it’s about oil?” Ericka said, her attention grabbed by a police siren on the street.
“Jesus, it doesn’t really make sense, does it. Meaning, maybe. Boredom. Seinfeld, Friends and the Soviet drama is off the TV, might as well have a war. You know I don’t know. We’ve been in a war of some kind since I was a teen in the eighties. If there were true peace, I don’t know people would notice or comprehend the significance. Kinda like a cold. You hate it when it’s there, but when it aint you don’t do anything to keep it away.”
A silence fell over the room. Mandy was staring intently at the man. Ericka looked down at the powder and inhaled some more. Mandy followed. The man slumped back on the bed empty glass in hand. He wasn’t asleep, but he couldn’t muster an eviction either. Sensing their eventual moving on, Ericka cut out another longer line and snorted it.
“You girls can take some of that if you like,” Ericka’s eyes danced across the room. She saw a glass wrapped in plastic. She retrieved it and removed the plastic and shoveled some of the powder into it and folded it neatly. She felt really damn good.
“You two going to be in the bar later? I’d love to make lewd passes at you later.”
“Maybe,” Ericka said, and stood. Mandy stood as well. “Thank you for your hospitality.” The man with the fake smile mumbled something after them as Ericka closed the door. Mandy let out a sigh of relief. “At least he didn’t rape us,” Ericka said.
They waited in silence for the elevator. A kind of excitement Ericka couldn’t place welled up in her. She wanted to jump or scream or something. The hall way was just too damn quiet. The elevator doors opened and Ericka grinned at Mandy for no reason. She grinned back. Mandy walked into the elevator and turned and faced out. Ericka just stood in the hallway. Mandy widened her eyes and said, “Come on!” As the doors to the elevators closed, Ericka dashed in and pinned Mandy against the back wall with her hands over her head. As the elevator descended, Ericka kissed Mandy. Ericka let her right arm fall own Mandy’s chest, over her breasts to her hip. She did the same with the other hand. When the elevator door opened, Ericka opened her eyes, turned and left passing between two men with fake smiles who had been waiting for the elevator. The men watched Ericka and Mandy leave.
“Let’s go buy clothes,” Ericka said, behind the wheel of the van, awaiting inspiration. She turned the key, put the van in gear and backed out, slamming on the brake to avoid a car passing by. That incredible excitement lingered in Ericka’s gut. Looking over at Mandy she realized she felt much the same.
Before going into the store they cut four lines on a CD case bumping around the back of the van. They snorted them quickly, checked their noses in the rear view mirror and got out of the van. In the parking lot Ericka was surprised to see Mandy put her arm around her waist as they walked. It was a good feeling, walking the length of that parking lot arm in arm. It had a strange slow motion feeling. Ericka thought maybe usually she would worry about people seeing her and judging her, but damn, now she felt sexy.
The store was bright and had a high ceiling. Some one waved at Mandy when she walked in causing her to drop her arm from around Ericka’s waist. There was a familiar song playing lightly on the speakers above. The place seemed empty of customers. Ericka briefly wondered what time it was. Mandy walked over to a register and chatted with a clerk. Ericka escaped into the maze of isles.
On either side stretching on for what seemed like ever, were multicolored walls of fabric. Ericka had always detested shopping. Even when her mother would convince her to go, she’d often exile what she’d bought for months, wearing what she already owned. Ericka had had the vague desire to shop, but when she did, she had in mind an outfit she’d ideally like to own. But now confronted by all these appalling things, she felt disgusted, tired and overwhelmed. The outfit she had imagined was a sort of brown sweater, a long sleeve blue shirt and a black dress. The things she saw on hangers around her were diverse, but unorganized and bizarre. She wondered why clothes weren’t organized like food, in specific isles according to kind.
She came to the end of the isle and looked in vain at the others, walking along their ends. She noticed a hunched old lady down one isle and decided she defiantly didn’t want to go down her isle. At the end of the isles was the lower circular underwear racks. These felt less claustrophobic, she wandered them instead. There were ugly bras and gaudy nighties on featureless mannequins. It vaguely terrified her. A hand on her shoulder made her jump.
“Shit. I just made an ass out of myself to the people I work with. I was talking a mile a minute,” Mandy said.
“What did you say?”
“I have no idea... oh. Look at that. You should buy that. We could take great pictures with that on you,” Mandy pulled a lacy black top off a rack. It seemed far too large. Ericka was un inspired. “This too!” Mandy pulled another item off a rack of discounted lingerie. It was funny to watch Mandy excited. Ericka followed her. This was definitely her turf, so Ericka dawned a stoic grin. When Mandy had filled her arms, she stopped and gave Ericka a mischievous grin. “Follow me,” she said.
They snuck along the back wall. Ericka wanted to tell Mandy not to steal the stuff, but they came across the dressing rooms before she had the chance. Ericka surmised Mandy was just embraced about trying the things on. They got in a handicapped dressing room and Mandy locked it. She put up all the items she’d collected on a hook on the door. She paused for a moment then said, “try this one on,” and took on off the hook and handed it to Ericka. Ericka took it and looked at Mandy. She shrugged and dropped her pants, took her shirts off over head, two at a time like a guy and, and stepped out of her underwear. The light was ugly in the dressing room and Ericka didn’t like the was the skin on her breasts looked in the light. She slipped into the large black teddy. The neck was so big it nearly exposed her nipples. Ericka looked up and met Mandy’s gaze. She seemed to love it.
“I wish I had my camera,” Mandy said. Ericka raised one eyebrow at her. “Try this one now,” Mandy said producing another. This one had mesh sleeves and frilly shoulders. Ericka tried to look amused. She noticed Mandy was fingering the sleeves of her hoodie and had made holes for her thumb. “Come on, Ericka. Look... sexy.” Ericka had no idea how to do this, she thought for a moment then laughed. Mandy approached her with her head slightly down, put her hands on Ericka’s sides and kissed her. She unhooked her thumbs from the sleeves of her hoodie and put her hands up Ericka front, light toughing her breasts. Ericka looked down and saw her heart beating through the black fabric. She let out a kind of sigh of relief. Mandy’s mischievous gaze met hers as she ran her hand slowly down her front to her vagina. Ericka was tense at first, but when Mandy’s finger found her clitoris, she closed her eyes and leaned back against the dressing room wall.
With her eyes closed she concentrated on Mandy’s finger, lightly pushing on the bump. Her heavy breathing stopped when Mandy bit her neck and held on. Mandy must have put her other hand on Ericka’s to balance herself. Ericka felt physically bound against the wall with one free hand. She put it on Mandy’s side. It didn’t seem to take long before she achieved. It felt like she hadn’t’ taken a breath in a long time. Mandy sensed it and ceased to rub her, but maintained her pose while Ericka caught here breath.
Blinking her eyes she remembered where she was. She focused briefly on Mandy’s silly grin, then on her pile of clothes on the floor. She could smell her own vagina in the small dressing room. She felt strangely relaxed and relieved. She looked at Mandy’s hands, her thumbs were already in the wholes of her sleeves. She tried again to look up at her face, but couldn’t maintain eye contact. kind of heaviness came over her chest. She began to dress and as she did that, Mandy put all the stores clothes and put them on hangers.
Once they were dressed and put back together, Mandy put her hand on the lock on the door. She paused to look for forgotten items. Ericka grabbed her face and gave her a soft kiss, then looked away.
Ericka made a B line for the front door. Mandy lingered, probably t o put things back. Outside someone was smoking and Ericka longed to have a ritual like that. She decided to try smoking. It seemed a great reason to break the routine of the day, or have a fucking moment to ones self occasionally. Instead Ericka counted the ancient gum stains on the pavement. Mandy came out and taped Ericka lightly on the butt, which made Ericka jump a little. Mandy began to walk towards the Van.
They did a few lines together, but it didn’t chase away Ericka’s fatigue. She wanted to sleep, but it was a conflicted desire. The drug seemed to briefly inspire her, and her fists were in a nervous clench. She turned to Mandy and said, “I need to sleep.” Mandy nodded and handed her the keys and they drove to the apartment in silence.
Erika staggered into the apartment ahead of Mandy. She went straight for the bathroom. She was desperate to poop. It had been welling up in her for a while, but the fatigue was catching up to her. As she sat there, she realized her fear of public bowled movements would be challenged by living with Mandy. She was relieved to her the TV in the kitchen turned on, aiding the disguising of her noises. After washing her hands and spraying one of Mandy’s girly sprays in the room, she quietly left the bathroom. Her eyelids were heavy and the apartment was warming up. She glanced over at the bed. The alarm clock next to it read 4pm. Mandy was in the warmly lit kitchen doing something with pots and pans. Noticing a glass of wine set on the counter she approached her. She wanted to ask if the glass was hers, but she noticed Mandy was holding one so she took the glass over to the bed. She sipped a little, dry heaved and passed out.
She knew she was dreaming. People filled the apartment and talked. She thought she heard a stereo, maybe a TV. She asked Mandy who was in the Apartment. She fell asleep, but jarred herself awake realizing the people were still there and needed entertaining. There was cocaine on the table by the bed, but she knocked it over onto the carpet. She apologized. Giving up, she decided to just sleep. As she drifted back into a deeper sleep, she said, ‘sorry.”

Ericka awoke again to a dark apartment. She sat up in bed and looked around. The apartment was very warm and she was sweating. She blindly groped in the bed next to her. Mandy wasn’t there. She had the vague sensation that she couldn’t breathe. Standing up she realized she was in her underwear. She wandered over to the kitchen. Opening the fridge door she saw a plate of pasta. The sink was empty and there were dishes next to it lain out to dry. Ericka looked at the counter, hopping there’d be a note. She peeked out the blinds at the parking lot. Mandy’s van was gone. The silence was heavy in her ears so she turned on the TV. A reality TV show about cops was on. She poured a glass of wine and tried to watch it. She wondered where Mandy would have gone this late at night. The shows on the TV began to blend into one as Ericka patiently sat, waited and drank.
At about 3 am a strange infomercial staring two midgets shook her out of her stupor. They were selling some sort of sure thing real estate scheme. At first it sort of made Ericka giggle. Then it filled her with an irrational fear. She knew she’d be awake for the rest of the night and her mind turned over distractions but found no rational way to keep busy at that time of night. She decided to get dressed and go to the local all night convenience store. She pulled on the Pants of Mandy’s she had been wearing earlier. Searching the pockets she discovered the cocaine was gone. She tried not to be annoyed, or jealous at the idea of Mandy taking their drugs to some one else. She pulled on a hoodie and left. It was a cold night and a mist hung in the air. It was eerily silent and she could hear herself walk clearly.
By the time she was in the parking lot of the store she was walking quite rapidly to beat the chill. Fluid was dripping out of her nose. The inside of the store was very brightly lit. The man behind the counter watched her closely, making her nervous. She found some sleep aides and picked them up. She also picked up some chips and brought them to the counter. She took out a wad of ones as the clerk scanned the items. She counted out the correct amount as a group of loud girls and one guy came into the store. Ericka looked down, not in the mood if on the off chance she knew one of them. She did.
“Ericka!” Mandy said.
“Hi,” Ericka said relieved and intrigued.
“Guys, this is Ericka, the crazy girl I you about.
“Oh cool, hi!”
“I told them about that guy we met at the hotel,” Mandy’s eyes were red and her voice a little slurred. “She seems quiet but she’s crazy,” Ericka was disturbed the distance in her voice. “We just stopped in for something to eat. We were at a shity party. I’m driving everyone home.” Mandy put her hand on Ericka’s back at the counter and leaned in. She smelled like beer. Ericka forced a smile. They looked at each other for a while, neither speaking. Then Mandy rolled off her towards her friends who were in the candy isle. Ericka got her change and stood there for a second. Mandy and her friends were talking low and Ericka didn’t know what to do. She didn’t want to be around anyone, really. She shuffled her feet. She wished again she smoked so she could walk outside, stall and smoke. She started to say something to Mandy, but her voice couldn’t muster any volume. She picked up the things she bought and walked outside. There was no way to stand normally outside a store in the middle of the night so she began walking home. She picked up her pace because she knew at any moment Mandy might call her back. Part of her wished she would, the other part of her wanted to be home, quickly. She took the first turn she saw outside the parking lot and walked briskly down a dark street.
She had to detour quite a bit and avoid the Main Street Mandy was likely to drive on, so by the time she got home her buzz was dulled. She poured herself another glass and wondered whether she should crawl in bed and pretend to sleep, awaiting Mandy’s return. She wanted to shower, but if Mandy brought those people over, she didn’t want to be stuck in the bathroom naked with them around. She unplugged the TV and brought it to the bed. Then she brought her bottle of wine and sat and watched sitcom reruns, one eye on the clock until the sun rose.

It was about 6 am when she heard Mandy approach. Ericka was wide wake, but laying on her side. She had finished her big bottle and had taken two sleeping pills, but she couldn’t sleep. First she heard the Van’s emergency brake engage in the parking lot. A few moments passed and she heard her walk up the steps. A few moments more and Mandy opened the door. Ericka’s heart pounded in her chest and she closed her eyes. Mandy’s foot steps were heavy. She went into the bathroom and turned on the water. Ericka listened to her clothes drop and then to the sound of her stepping into the shower. The water pooled on her body then fell in intermittent splashes. Mandy occasionally coughed and snorted. After a long time, the water shut off. Some more time passed and the bathroom door opened. He felt the mattress depress as Mandy crawled into the bed. Her body settled next to her own, then fell completely still. Ericka could smell all her clean smells. A short time later Ericka too slept.

Ericka awoke in heavy fog with a head ache to the sound of the water running in the kitchen sink. She rubbed her eyes and sat up. This made her head hurt more.
“Jesus,” she said. She was fully dressed from the night before. Mandy was leaning over the sink wearing just a hoodie. Ericka approached her. “Is there coffee.”
“God,” Mandy said.
“What did you do last night?” Ericka asked.
“There was a party, then some of the people and I... Jesus I don’t feel good. We drove around. We ended up drinking rum on someone’s porch. They were all pretty spun. I just did that coke. I couldn’t take it anymore and I drove home. Jesus. I think I puked in the van,” Mandy said, staring at the dishes.
“Who was there?” Ericka asked, realizing her arms were crossed. She uncrossed them.
“Some of the people we knew in High School. Some guy. Some girl named Angel, or Aunika or Anne. It was a hoot.” Mandy continued to rinse a cup Ericka thought was already clean. “Somebody kept saying that; It was a hoot. I don’t feel good.”
“Do you have to work?” Ericka felt like she should be doing something with her hands.
“Yeah. Soon. I don’t want to. Not at all. Did we see you at the store?”
Ericka thought for moment. She wanted to say no. “Yeah.”
“Was I fucked up?”
“Yeah.”
“Did I wake you when I came in?”
“No.”
“What are you going to do today?” The question hurt Ericka. There was nothing to do in the damn town. She almost said, ‘wait for you to come home.’ She said, “Nothing.”
“Shit,” Mandy said and put the cup down and walked towards her clothes in the suit case. She put on a sensible outfit. Ericka watched her strain to put her bra over her small breasts and step into underwear. She stepped into some pants and crawled into a shirt and disappeared into the bathroom. Ericka felt dumb in the kitchen with nothing to do. She vaguely wanted to eat but couldn’t muster the will to cook. She opened the fridge door and looked at the lone wine cooler. The thought of another day made her sad. Mandy came out of the bathroom smelling slightly of vanilla and collected some keys and quarters off the counter. She stopped and shuddered. Ericka sighed deeply. She really wanted to hug her.
“Bye,” Mandy said and opened the door and walked into the bright light of the day. Ericka stood there longer then went back to bed.

She lay on her side listening to her heart pound for a while, slightly disgusted in herself. She had one more day to get through, then she could be distracted by work again. She thought she’d like to do something nice for Mandy, but couldn’t muster an idea. It was really a strange horrible feeling, seeing the world tilted sideways, listening to the racket in her chest, her arm slowly falling asleep, wondering what the hell to do. Thankfully the urge to pee compelled her to move. She staggered into the bathroom and plopped down and peed. Reaching for the toilet paper, she realized she had none. She’d go to Fred Meyers.
It was a dark afternoon, approaching sunset. A heavy cloud cover had rolled in and the bright lights and artificial warmth of the retail warehouse were relief. Pausing briefly at the doors, she considered ways to pass the time. People rushed in and out around her. Children waved messy ice cream bars at her from carts, men strode in talking on their cell phones. She realized she’d never seen anyone intensely listening on a cell phone, just people talking. Did both ends of the line talk over each other? There was a familiar pop song made into a swinging instrumental playing on the loud speakers. Ericka wandered the electronics isle, flipping through CDs. A clerk asked her if she needed any help. She quietly shook her head and continued to browse. A child walked to her while maintaining a fixed gaze on a TV screen. He was about six and was wearing overalls. He tugged on Ericka hoodie and said, “Momy, look.” This made Ericka smile as she made eye contact with the child’s real mom who happened to be standing next to her.
“Over here baby. That’s not your mom,” she said to her son. He looked up in astonishment at Ericka. He had red cheeks and brown eyes. She lifted him into the air and into a cart, although he seemed to big for that kind of treatment.
Ericka fiddled with some knobs on stereos. She briefly considered the movie the child was watching but was perplexed by the animated characters actions. They seemed to be in some kind of bizarre combat with spells conjured by hand motions and nonsensical rhymes.
Ericka left the electronics passing a could leaning against the counter where people drop off film. They were laughing and passing photos back and forth. The man had a colored shirt on and the girl had a pick jogging suit on. Their cart was full of vegetables, meats, candy and cereal.
Passing the jewelry department a clerk tried to catch her eye contact. She thought about her wedding ring in a box in a drawer in the kitchen. She wore it for a while, but after almost loosing it for the second time in one day, she decided it was safer in a drawer. Mike wore his every day. It made him seem older and strange like he wasn’t of her generation.
Several foreign men were watching the Keno numbers appear on a screen above the lotto machine. Ericka thought she’d like to try that too someday. She caught a whiff of Tabasco on the coats of one of the men and it reminder her of her desire to take up smoking so she walked to the customer service desk where she remembered the tobacco was kept. Luckily there was a line so she could walk up to the counter and be ignored by the clerk who was busy doing a return for an obese woman wearing all purple. There were cigarettes, brands she recognized and there were other things that seemed very foreign. There were cigars, pouches, devices and pipes. They all looked exotic. She decided she’d think about it while wandering the store.
She wandered down a transition isle at the end of the grocery department. It had cleaning supplies, then mops. Further down it had light bulbs and extension chords. Ericka tried to remember if she needed any of these things. She couldn’t recall needing really anything besides toilet paper, but since she was there, she decided to wander more.
And old lady in the next isle was reaching for an item out of her reach. Ericka passed her, but guilt began to mount so she turned around and asked the lady if she could help her reach anything. “Yes, could you reach me down that little box?”
Ericka brought down few things until she got the right item. It was a air freshener refill. It made Ericka picture a small apartment with the overpowering odor of fake flowers. Maybe she kept the place smelling nice in case some one would visit. Her cart had a large back of cat litter stowed on the bottom. Maybe one of her children complained about a cat pee smell. Ericka smiled and walked on.
Soon she came to a bedding department with made up shortened display beds. She fingered the materials. Some were sports themed for little boys and they all came in plastic bags with zippers. She thought having one f those bags would make it easier to move, one could fill it with clothes and stuff, then throw it in the back of their car. Ericka began to feel bored and not entertained by her own rhetorical thoughts.
She remembered shopping with her mother was never fun. She was silent and didn’t respond when prodded to buy things. Most of the everyday chores she did with her mom felt like a death march. Their own shopping center of choice was on the outskirts of town and Ericka avoided it. To many un important memories.
An hollow rumble rolled down her stomach, so Ericka decided to eat. She went to the deli isle, which had a long case from which one could pick both hot and cold preprepared foods. There were quite a few people here, many with children, all leaning into the glass, considering their prospective meals. In the hot case there were full cooked chickens, hot dogs and all kinds of potato products. The cold case had salads and cold cuts that one could assemble a sandwich out of. Ericka stood at the back of the crowd trying to muster a preference. The idea of communicating with the clerk annoyed her. There was a bag of fried chicken in a cooler in the middle of the isle, so she decided to take that in order to bypass any conversation with a clerk. There was a register at the end of the cases with a fast moving line. She wordlessly paid for her food and took it to an area with seating. Old men slowly sipped coffee there and Ericka wondered if one of the old men belonged to the smelly lady with the cats. She took a seat with the picked over remnants of a paper sitting on it. She found the crossword puzzle, then scanned the floor for a pen. There was one beneath an old man and she decided to try to wait him out.
She picked at the chicken and looked at the pictures in the newspaper. She realized the grease was transferring to the news print, making it transparent. There were numerous ads on ever page. It occurred to her just how many people bought and sold things and how remarkably little desire she had to buy things. On TV too, there were truck ads and debt consolidation ads. People did these things all day. Then they got old and wasted time in super markets like she was doing. It amazed her to think she was likely to live another forty or so years and she couldn’t possibly dream of something to do for the next few hours but eat.
She reckoned the portion of fried chicken she bought could feed four people if everyone had two pieces. She thought maybe Mandy would want some, but the thought of carrying it home seemed annoying. The old man stood, supporting his shaky frame on the table as he rose. He waddled out of the seating area. Ericka waited until she couldn’t see him any more and walked over and got the pen from the ground. She found her cross word again and worked it while nibbling on her chicken.
Some time later, she gave up having completed her usual quarter of the puzzle. She felt kind of disgusting. Counting the remaining pieces she realized she had eaten half of the chicken. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, but that had grease on it too. She looked for a napkin dispenser, saw one on a table next to the coffee creamers but could tell that it was empty with out standing. She wiped her mouth on the front of her hoodie. Feeling as though she’d hit rock bottom she realized it was time to get a bottle of booze and go home. She left the bones on the table, but took with her the rest of the chicken.
She picked up her usual bottle, then noticed a box of wine. It hand a handle and seemed easier to carry. She really wanted to drink it right there in isle. She really really want to drink it right there in the isle. She decided against it when a clerk walked by and asked her if she needed any help finding anything. She walked to a check out lane.
All the lanes were packed with mothers and kids with full carts. She chose once that seemed shorter and waited as it slowly trudged along. IT seemed like everyone had coupons and special requests and it took at least five minutes before she even got space on the conveyor belt to set down the box. As she waited, she picked the skin off a leg and ate it.
When it was finally her turn, she thrust out her ID and said, “I already paid for the chicken.” It was when she was almost out of the parking lot she realized she hadn’t got toilet paper. The box was heavy so she decided not to go back.
It was dark by the time she got home. She wrestled with the spigot on the box spilling a considerable amount on the for before mastering it. She filled a large juice tumbler and curled up on the bed with her chicken and wine.
It didn’t taste too bad, in fact it tasted better the more she drank. The prime time TV was fast and eventful and she soon felt quite happy and the blue flicker from the TV made the room familiar and comfortable. Nonchalantly she walked into the bathroom and vomited, then returned to her feast.
Mandy burst in and startled her. “Want some chicken?” Ericka said, then realized the last piece was in her mouth and laughed.
“That was fucked up. I’m never drinking again,” Mandy said, leaning against the kitchen counter across the room. Ericka blinked at her, trying to monitor the TV with her peripheral vision. “I’m never eating again either.”
A commercial came on the screen and Ericka stood and walked over and refilled her glass. Mandy noticed the box and said, “classy.”
“Want some? It’s good,” Ericka said. She reached over the counter and turned up the thermostat to where Mandy liked it. Mandy looked tired, so Ericka thought it would be nice to rub her back, so she walked over by her and reached for her.
“Don’t. I feel disgusting.” That curt response stung Ericka a little.
“It’s OK. I am disgusting,” Ericka said.
“Well that would make it more disgusting,” Mandy said.
That stung too. “Want to take a shower?”
“Together?” Mandy’s incredulous tone stung too.
“No. I’m just saying,” Ericka began to retreat.
“I think I will take a shower. What are you watching?” Mandy said, emptying her pockets.
“Oh, just the TV.”
Mandy looked at her as if she were about to say something, then walked into the shower. Ericka heard the door lock behind her and felt ridiculous. Her eyes got wet and she slid down to the floor on the kitchen. She felt ridiculous. She couldn’t even think of a reason to stand. The floor was clean and she saw the tile was printed on a plastic surface. There was a dead fly in the corner where the floor met the counter. She breathed heavily, but didn’t cry. Crying seemed to be a choice, and she couldn’t muster a choice. Suicide seemed like a good idea, but to so did knitting.
Ericka stood and brushed off her butt. She filled her mouth with wine, swallowed and gagged a little. She refilled her glass and took it to the bed. She had lost track of the crime show she had been watching. She never understood what they were doing, but the momentum usually kept her going, but it seemed futile now. Ericka feared Mandy coming out of the shower. She didn’t know what to say or what she would want. She heard the water turn off and sat up straight and crossed her legs. She listened intently as Mandy did her post shower rituals. Ericka put down her glass and waited. Finally she heard the door unlock and Mandy came out with a towel wrapped around her head and middle.
“We are out of toilet paper,” she said.
“Are we?” Ericka said.
“Mandy walked into the kitchen and took a bottle of juice out of the fridge. “At least I don’t ever have to worry about getting any juice or milk, you don’t touch it.” She sat next to Ericka on the mattress, unwrapped her hair and began to brush it. She was wearing her wedding ring. Ericka smiled and watched her. “What?” Mandy said, realizing she was being watched.
“Sorry,” Ericka said and turned back to the TV.
Mandy stood and Ericka kept her eyes averted as she changed into sweat pants and a shirt. “I’m so damn tired,” She said and lay flat on the bed next to Erika. Ericka stared at the TV for a long time with her fists clenched, then lay flat next to Mandy. She turned her head. Mandy was staring at the ceiling. Ericka turned towards Mandy. She then put her hand on her hard tummy. It briefly flexed, then relaxed. Then Ericka moved her hand slowly down the front of Mandy pants. Her pubic hair was still wet from the shower. She moved her hand down between her legs and felt for her clitoris. Finding the wetness Ericka began to breath harder. She wondered if she could lick it, if Mandy would let her or if that was even a strange thought.
“Don’t,” Mandy said. Ericka blinked a few times, then rolled over and stared at the TV.

It was a huge relief to be working again. People coming and going, minor tragedies and emergencies to coax her through the minutes. Ericka knew that if she stopped moving, there would be a crushing silence and it would be tough to get going again so in-between her usual late night trickle of drunk teens, spun truckers and suspicious men, she cleaned like she never had before. Once all the surfaces of the dinner were clean, she began to pull out the contents of the drawers and rubbing them down. She found a step ladder in a closet and wiped down the tops of the various juice and soda machines. She’d obviously been the last to do this in some time. She was careful too to avoid George’s bemused look. He turned on a local AM Spanish speaking radio station and tried to accommodate her manic cleaning by not speaking to her.
Between a large metal unit, the floor and wall, she saw an incredible amount of filth accumulates. It was a tricky spot to see, one had to kneel to see it. Ericka got out a fresh rag and by straightening her arm, managed to get a hand in there. The space tapered off in the back, and try as she liked, she couldn’t manage to get the very back grime, closest to the wall. Frustrated, Ericka kneeled back and considered the problem. Taking a broom handle she managed to separate the metal unit from the wall some what and she put her arm in to clean further. In twisted ecstasy she clean all the places her hand couldn’t formerly fit until she changed her stance to get closer to the crack, accidentally dislodging the broom with her head.
The unit reformed along the crack, flattening her hand. Ericka paused for a minute, then tugged at her hand. It was stuck. She pulled harder. It did not budge. She looked around to see if anyone could see her, but she was obscured by the counter, looming over her. A wave of panic came over her. She violently tugged on her arm, trying to free it, but she became worried she’d tear her arm off at the shoulder, so she stopped.
With her free hand she tried to get the broom back in the crack, which was awkward as her trapped arm was stuck almost at the elbow. By guiding the broom along the back of her neck, over her trapped shoulder, she could get the broom in the crack, but couldn’t get the leverage to move the big metal unit. She realized she’d have to call George.
At first it was a sheepish cry. There came no response, just the music she could hear from the kitchen. She called his name louder. No reply. Her heart pounded in her ears. her knees hurt, bent under her. At least she had moped, she thought. She yelled George’s name. God she wanted to quit now. Ericka heard the street outside, then the door close, indicating a customer had come in. She calmly spoke George’s name. Her neck hurt. Her arm was falling asleep. She made a frantic attempt to both push on the broom with her neck while yanking on her arm, but it didn’t budge and she began to cry.
It seemed like a long time before she heard, “Ericka, customer.” She tried to turn her head, but the broom had her crucified.
“George,” she said, trying to keep an even tone.
“What?”
“Come here for a second,” Ericka said, trying not to draw the customers attention.
“What do you need, I’ll hand it through the window,” George said.
“I need you to help me. Come out here.”
It seemed like an eternity, but she finally heard him approach. “What the hell are you doing?”
“I’m bowling. Help me. I’m stuck,” Ericka said, staring at the floor.
“Well well well. Now how the hell did you do that?”
“Help me out!” Ericka said, flailing with her free arm.
“Wait a minute, honey. Let me just think for a second. You know, I’ve always wondered what you waitresses make a night,” George said as he leaned down behind her. She could smell his heavy cologne. He reached around her into her apron. “Seventeen bucks in one night?” Ericka knew there was a twenty in her pocket.
“Get me the fuck out of here,” Ericka said.
“OK. Jesus. How. OK,” George strained on the big metal unit and Ericka’s arm came loose. “Come here,” George led her to the sink and held her filthy arm under a stream of warm water. Ericka tried to not look at him out of shame. “Does it hurt?”
“No,” Ericka said, looking at her pink arm.
“You are welcome,” George said, turning and walking towards the kitchen.
“Thank you,” Ericka said, snatching the wad of money he still had in his hand.

Ericka was dragging her feet when she finaly made it to her apartment. She wanted to sleep, but she had the suspicion once she closed her eyes, her mind would race. She felt a pang of worry when she noticed Mandy’s van. Part of her missed being able to be herself when she got home. If she wanted to get naked and watch the morning news at any volume, she used to be able to. As she reached her door, she thought she might check the mail.
Her letter box was again over flowing with advertizements and bills. She leaned against the building and sorted through the stack, but there wasn’t a single personal letter. She resorted to reading a rain soaked book of coupons from a locala retailer.
Ericka began to feel stupid, standing all alone in the cold morning, avoiding her own apartment. She gathered her courage and marched back up the stairs towards her apartment, only slightly hesitating before opening the door. Warm air rushed towards her as she entered. Turning down the thermostat, she opened the refidgerator door and scanned the bounty. It all looked un-apetizing. She opened a cubord and found a quarter full bottle of wine. Not nearly enough. By now she was completely awake and frustraited. Ericka looked over at her bed, Mandy was an intert lump in the center. Ericka leaned against the counter for a while, tapping her foot lightly. She then turned to the kitchen sink and washed her hands with the fragrant citrus soap Mandy had bought. Ericka lost her will to wash her hands half way through the process, and just watched her hands in the low blue light as the steaming water fell over them. She felt her pelvis leaning against the counter and was aware of the smell of rotting food in the garbage can.
Resolutely, Ericka turned and walked into the bathroom and began to draw a bath. She poured shampoo over the drain plug, trying to make a bubble bath. She tested the water with her hand to make sure it was nearly scalding, then stood up and began to undress. Once her sweater was over her head, she caught eye contact with herself in the mirror. She looked angry and it made her pause. She dropped the sweater and while making eye contact with herself, unhooked her bra allowing her breasts to bounce free. There was a red line beneith each where the wire had been. Dropping her pants and stepping out of them, she dropped below the mirror and lost eye contact with herself. Standing again, she realized the spell ws broken. She looked down her body, past her breasts to her protruding pubic bone. Her pubic hair was flat. She stepped into the soapy hot water, which made her wince. Her toes quickly became red from the heat.
She slowly eased herself into the rizing water, pausing often. When she was finaly resting, she realized she was sweating when a drop slid into her lips and the salt surprised her. Easing down into her bath, she looked down her body and saw just her breasts and knees were exposed.
Undernieth the cover of the soap, she slowly began to rub her cliterus while thinking of Mike’s body pumping on top of her on a dreary morning before school. This made her think of war and her crappy apartment, and she stopped. She thought about his penis in her mouth and how fragile it made him seem to be out of control like that. She wondered if the sound of the water had awoken Mandy. Now Erick tried to refocus her mind, knowing the chances for sleep were slim without completing an orgasm. Looking down her body at how her hand subtly disapeared and reapeared as she touched herself made her excited. She found the crest of her clitoris, which was hard. She thought it would be nice to have her hands above her head, restrained in some way. She opned her legs and made a slight moaning noise, then came.


Ericka came home from work to a dark apartment. The dawn light didn’t penetrait the interior, which from outside made the door frame look as if it were filled with obsydian. She took a step in and felt that the air temperature was the same as the outside. She switched on the light and sscanned the interior. Mandy was gone. By the mass of un-opened mail on the counter was a wine bottle with a bow on it. Under it was a note.

Ericka

Dany’s comming home! He was diagnosed with diabetes aand got a discharge! He called from Germany and he’ll be home in a few weeks. I’m going home so I can look for apartments. Thank you so much for letting me stay here.

Mandy

Ericka shrugged a little and took the bottle to the drawer with the opener. She poped the cork and drank. A little dribbled down her chin and on to her shirt. On the way to the TV, she turned off the over head light. She reclined infront of the TV and turnned it on. It’s flickering light tainted the apartment.



Thanksgiving was a slow day at work. People made their orders, then let their eye contact linger, searching for some petty meaning to the inconsequential interaction. Ericka was doing a double shift. The first shift was annoying as the waitresses during the day talked and talked to eachother, at each other, some times listening to each other, but never ariving at a point. When the sun set, Ericka felt better. The other waitresses became lethargic and watched the clock, waiting for their chance to escape. George came on duty and it warmed Ericka’s heart a little. Ericka had been taking dishes into the bck for the dishwasher when she saw George. He gave her a big hug and picked her up in the air. She could smell alcohol on his breath. He goaded the day cook to have a drink with him and he complied. George noticed Ericka watching and he filled a coffee cup of the cheap whiskey for her. Standing there by the warm grill in the harsh overhead florecant light with two ugly Medford cooks had a kind of bliss to it, despite the dry heaving that accomanied the whiskey.
Recharged, Ericka went back into the dining room and told the other two waitresses to go home. They lingered and protested but Ericka didn’t argue back, she merely pushed them long, grabbing their purses for them and physicaly shoving them out the front door. Once they were gone, the dining room had it’s familir dim dismal feel. Ericka busied herself cashing out open checks and doing side work. Once caught up, she went back into the kitchen.
“Holidays can be fun,” Geroge said scrubbing his grill. “I never expect any kind of TV thanksgiving, so I do what makes me happy on the small scale, you know?”
Ericka nodded and sipped her awful whiskey. The day cook said, “Happy Thanksgiving,” over his back as he left. George then took Ericka’s cup from her hands and poured it down the drain. Ericka watched the amber liquid mix with the bile already in the sink, then looked up brken hearted at George who had produced a lerger bottle of whiskey.
“Wild Turkey. I think you are the only chic I ever met who could drink this with me,” saying so, he poured some in her cup.
Ericka sipped it. It had an imediate difference to it. It was less flavor and more violence. She struggled to swallow it. It gave her goose bumps and made her eyes water. She wasn’t sure if she felt the desire to vomit.
“My family will be comming it around 8pm. You don’t have to serve them,” George said with a stoic whiskey face.
“No, let me. It’ll be fun,” Erick said, smiling, then turned to go back in the dining room. Now the dim light was warm. She went over to the basket by the door, bent over and rumaged through the papers to find a cross word puzzle. She found the right section, folded it into a net square and took it by the register with her to fill out. Leaning over it, she had the destinct impression the squares were listing to the right. She rubbed her eyes and looked again. This time the clues read like statements, which was equaly confusing.
The dining room ws completely empty. Outsid eon the street the road was mostly empty. It was if the world was all good and dead. Many of the neon lights from the pawnbrokers across the street were off, only the yellow street lamps were on. It was erie, yet familiar. How many people in the world did Ericka know anyway? If everyone had died, she’d never know unless George had told her. As she drifted off into thought, a semi truck slowly passed infront, slowing to make the wide turn into the drive way. It was disorienting at first, as it apeared as if the world outside had disapeared until the logo passed and Ericka realized it was a truck. Ericka grabbed two menus in anticipation.
Shortly, one lrge man came in the front door. He seemed timid, despite his gait, which wasn’t fat, just large. Ericka led him to a booth, where he gingerly slid in. She handed him a menu, which to took while looking around. Ericka recgnzed this as the ‘looking for an ashtray look,’ but decided not to intervine. He unfolded the menu and scanned it as Ericka apretended to wipe the counter. Too large for his environment, his demeanor made him seem small and sad. She knew it would make no difference if she were to sit next to him, the ugliness and akwardness of their personalities would accentuate the sadness of their perdicament.
Lonelyness had a new stride for Ericka. Her routine was like a friend. A routine precluded choice. It hadn’t been long, maybe almost a month since she’d seen Mandy. Only somtimes wine and sleep aides didn’t make her sleep away dread, but to fight those nasty times, she’d arranged to haave cable installed within the week. Ugly, ugly thoughts somtimes crept up her back, and they were begining to, watching the truck driver looking down at the menu, the blackness of the street framing him. Thinking about her routine as a choice made it seem less of a routine. Ericka’s spine straightened and she quickly walked back towards the kitchen. George was rubbing a hideous naked bird with butter.
“Is it wrong this turns me on?” George said with a grin.
“Yes. Yes it is. Is that for your family?”
“Yes. Yes it is. Where is your family?”
“I don’t know... I don’t really have one. I mean my om didn’t call. I don’t know.”
“That’s too bad,” George said, putting the beast into a pan, then into the oven.
“It’s ok. I’m used to it.”
“How about GI-Joe?”
“I don’t know. He calls when he can,” Ericka’s eyes were fixed on the bottle of Turkey. She shed her inhibitions and grabbed cup and poured a shot. George washed turkey slime off his hands. Ericka slamed a shot. It had the same effect of jolting her right again. She noticed that the kitchen seemed brighter and warmer than usual.
“The owner usued to come by and cook for his family here. But I supose they all don’t speak to each other anymore or what ever. I liked the tradition. I wish I owned a place like this. It this fucking country no one who deserves to own a buisness doesd. I’d run a sweet fucking resturant. Where am I going to get the thirty or forty thousand I need to start it up?”
Ericka agreed silently with George, which made her think of the Chineese man who owned the resurant in Portland. She wondered where he got the money for the place, or if he even owned it or was just the bartender. Just then, the truck driver came lumbering around the corner, then stopped shocked and amazed staring at George and Ericka.
“Bathroom?” he finaly managed.
“Other side,” Ericka said, still leaning against the counter, clutching her cup. She shrugged and poured a shot, drank it and walked out into the empty dining room. She waited by the truck drivers table for a while, expecting him to come out of the bathroom at anymoment. HE didn’t appear for several seconds, so she had a seat in his booth. His coat was still there, which meant he hadn’t left. It smelled like cigars. She liked the idea of him finding her waiting in his booth after he obviously just had a bowl movement. She now felt quite comfortable terrorizing him with akwardness. He returned, eyeing his truck through the side window, not noticing Ericka’s presence in his booth until he was about to sit. He briefly looked like he was going to run, which would be a comical sight; a tatooed mad with facial hair running from a little girl.
“Can I take your order?”
“Ham and eggs, if your still doing breakfast.”
“No turkey.”
“Fuck turkey,” Ericka wrote down on her order book.
“Yeah, fuck turkey,” the trucker had a throaty laugh.
“Well. There is Wild Turkey. Never fuck a wild turkey.”
“Never fuck a wild turkey? Why not?” The trucker was blushing now.
“Never fuck any animal,” Ericka said, playing with the sugar packets.
“Any animal?”
“Now your just taking the last few words I say and saying them again in the form of a question,” Ericka observed.
“A question?”
“Shoot. I’ll answer anything,” Ericka said.
The trucker considered the table for a moment, then said, “I give up, I don’t have any questions.”
“Either do I. Maybe that’s why life sucks,” Ericka said while sliding out of the booth. Her answer made the trucker beam. Ericka didn’t envy a million unfamiliar roads and interchanges. She wondered if it was raining at the beach as she placed her ‘Ham and Eggs, No fucking turkey,’ ticket up. She noticed Geroge was smoking, which made her smile. She wished every moment could be as ridiculously chaotic as this one. Ericka brought the trucker coffee and cream without him asking, then leaned against the counter and thought blissfully of nothing. She could smell the turkey and fixings George had going in the kitchen and had the vuage feeling things were ok. She peered through the kitchen window and saw George multi tasking on her order and his own feast. One hand cracked eggs on the grill while the other stirred what looked like Yams in a pot. He winced as the cigarete smoke lingered in his eyes, so he skillfuly shifted the cigarette with his lips to the other side of his mouth. The eggs danced to life on the hot grill and he took his spatula and scrambled them while with his other hand her retrieved a slab of ham from the fridge and threw it on the grill. His arms were always otstretched and active. His head at the center of all these actions, wonderfuly distracted. Ericka decided she thought too much about herself. What a fucking waste of time anyway.
Time creeped back into her thoughts as she realized she was blissfuly buzzed. When would it wear off? How would her dark apartment feel when she got home? Would she be stricken with self-loathing again? She notcied the trucker watching her, so to keep up the air of a sagely waitress who spouted prfound things off handedly, she began to wipe the counters. They were still realatively clean, making her feel dumb. She left the on the counter mid stroke and walked back into the kitchen.
George thrust a large pot into her hands. In it were peeled potatos, steam rizing into her eyes. George then trust a potato masher at her. She put down the pot and accepted the masher. George turned to his other projects and Ericka slowly began to understand her task. The head of the masher crushed through the boiled potatos in a strangely satisfying way. George swept by and filled a nearby measuring ladel with whiskey, then wlked out into the dining room. Through the window Ericka saw him greet a woman with an infant in her arms. He then grabbed a toddler who was out of Ericka’s sight line, and hoisted him into the air. He twirled around, kissed the child then placed him in a booth. George then kissed the infant then gave his wife a long kiss. The urge to cry suddenly attacked Ericka. She franticly mashed the potatos until she thought they were finished, drank a mouthful of whiskey, and walked out into the dinig room. There she picked up water glasses for four and walked over to George’s familys table.
“This is Ericka. She is the lovely waitress I’ve told you about. Ericka meet Maria, Narcisso and Virgil,” George said, pointing to his family. Ericka smiled and put the water on the table. George stood and made towards the kitchen, “I have to cook. I’ll be out later.” Ericka retrieved table settings and dressed the table as Maria watched and stoicly smiled. When she had finished, George rang the bell on the kitchen window. Ericka got the trucker’s order and and took it to him. He seemed more at ease, his arms now stretched out over the seats next to him.
“Can I get you anything else?” Ericka said.
“If I think of anything, I’ll let you know,” He said.
Ercicka returned to the kitchen and made a ‘willing to be helpful stance.’ George seemed to ignore her. Ericka shrugged and took his pack of cigarettes and walked out back. The night air was wet and the city was silent. The dumpsters had been emptied the day before and there was no odor. She inspected the pack of cigarettes, then took one out. She put it in her mouth and raised the lighter to it. She couldn’t get the lighter to ignite. The flint wheel turned, but no flame apeared. She held it up to her face and looked for a clue. She noticed a child safety switch and turned it just as a stream of drool fell from her lips down her front. She looked around ashamed while brushing the spit from her breasts. She held the flame of th elighter to the end of the cigarette and took a tiny bit of smoke into her mouth and held it. She took the cigarette from her mouth and thought about her apartment. It was officialy the Christmass season and she wondered if she’d bother to get a tree. She wondered if Mandy and Dany had a place. She hadn’t heard from her in some time, although it seemed Ericka still directed some of her thoughts as if speaking out loud to Mandy. A fleeting image of leaving with the truck driver crossed her mind. But he probably had his own life he probably wouldn’t give up for her whim to escape. Ridiculous. Ridiculous. She thought about calling her own mother. She took a little more smoke into her mouth. She could ask her if this was what her life was like... agony, TV and omlettes. Ridiculous. Ericka smiled and whished she had a child with masive brown eyes like George did. Is that what George thought about when he smoked by the dumpster? Or when he cooked ham and eggs evreynight? Ericka felt she might be menstrating. Ham and eggs. Is that what a women realy boiled to? Ericka began to smile. It was a funy feeling; wanting to sleep so bad she felt like she could explode.
She stepped on her cigarette and wlked back into the warm bright kitchen. There were bowls sitting on stained oven mits, ready for presenttion at the table. Ericka took them and walked out into the dining room. Maria helped to arange them on the table as Ericka set them down. Stepping back, Ericka realized they only had water to drink and brought a carafe of orange juice and extra plates. One bowl held cnned cranberry sauce, the other yams with marshmellows on top. More bowls apeared in the window and Ericka retrieved them, aware the truck driver was watching. She brought stuffing, gravy, beans, jello and corn bread. Maria took them an aranged them on the table, but did not eat.
Ericka brought the trucker more coffee. “Wow,” he said, looking behind Ericka. She turned to see George hefting a huge brown bird, it’s leggs gaping. George set it down on the table and beconed Ericka over. Ericka compled and sat next to the older son, Virgil who was squirming in his seat. George said somthing solemly in Spanish, perhaps a prayer or maybe a curse, than began to carve the bird, passing platefulls of meat around the table, starting with Maria. Once every one had a plate and had ladeled some of the sides onto it, George took a bite. Maria followed and so did Ericka.
It was good.
Ericka ate furously and silently for a long time. She shoveled the turkey meat, doused in sweet gravey into her mouth. The mashed potatos had a strange drug like quality and she ate them like she were inhailing cocaine. Before she had completely swallowed the last mouthful, she had a new forkful wating by her lips. When she ran out of somthing, she reached for a dished and replenished her plate. Her only concept of time was her becoming aware the food was becoming colder. Washing down a particaly chewed piece of meat with a large gulp of orange juice, she vomited a little in her mouth, stunning ehr back to reality. Looking up, she noticed Maria and George were finished and the children were playing with the remains of their meals. George leaned back and lit a cigarette, smiling. Maria dabbed at Narcisso’s mouth with a napkin.
Remembering where she was, she glanced over at the trucker who following George’s cue, too was smoking. George stood and sauntered back into the kitchen, remerging with the whiskey. HE paused by the trucker and poured some into his coffee cup. The trucker wordlessly raised his cup to him. Then George poured Ericka a half glassful in her empty orange juice cup. He raised the bottle and they all drank.
Ericka felt satisfied. She stood and gathered the dirty dishes and before she walked away she noticed George staring at Maria. Maria seemed stable and lovable. As Ericka scrapped the plates into the trashin the kitchen she realized she was just damn lonely. She lingered by the sink, watching the water water pour from the faucet for a long time. When she returned to the dining room, the trucker was gone. There was a fifty dollar bill on the table. There were a few scraps of ham left. George was putting Maria’s coat her. Ericka noticed it was past one AM. She made another pass at the table, collecting bowls of food. Virgil waved at her as he was led by his hand out the door. While staking dishes in her arms, she watched George buckle in his children in an ugly sedan in the parking lot. He waved as they drve off then he came back in. Between the two of them they worldessly cleared the table in a few moments. George seemed old and tired. He went back into the kitchen and bussied himself cleaning as Ericka laid down in the booth they had been eating in. The seats were still warm from the family’s body heat.

Smoking had really taken to Ericka. It invigorated her in the afternoon when she woke up. It gave her a reason to get out of bed. It was good to have somthing to need after the fog of sleep lifted and she opened her eyes to the same ceiling she always awoke to and despized. She was careful never to buy more than a pack, so that she’d have a reason to go to the store. Her adventures to the store made her days off seem less futile.
It was a week before Christmass and Ericka was at Fred Meyers. The brightness of the store made it seem less like an opresive endless winter, so she lingered. She had spoken to Mike a few days earlier and found herself adressing him with her thoughts. He had said somthing about moving to Portland when he got back which gave her somthing else to think about. He expressed disbelief when she said she smoked now. They had spoken twice over the phone with out reffering to sex, which was a strange relief. Looking at the meats in the cooler, Ericka wanted to shop for two again. Smoking had made her more aware of her hands, which led her to wear her wedding ring again. It seemed strange to hold pakages of raw meat with gold adorned fingers in the bright florecant light. A hand grabbed her arm. Looking up she saw Mandy.
“Ericka,” she stated. She looked tired. A man was standing behind a shoping cart next to her. He was thin with a lean face. It was Dany. “Ericka, how are you? I haven’t seen you in forever.”
“Yeah,” Mandy said, looking at her feet.
“We’ve been so busy. We have a house now. You should come by,” Mandy wasn’t wearing any jewlry. She looked older. She was wearing sweat pants and a hoodie. Ericka senced a change in her. Their cart was full of practile food.
“Hey, I went through Basic with Mike. He talked a lot about you,” Dany said, extending a hand.
Ericka took the hand. It felt like the first time she’d ever shook a hand. “Hi, yeah I talked to him this week.”
“Diabetties... I got sent home... early,” Dany said, and they all stood there in silence. Ericka became aware of a Beatles song playing softly on the loudspeaker.
“Come over. I’ll cook,” Mandy finaly said. “It was good seing you.”
“You too,” Ericka said, looking down the isle at nothing.
Mandy and Dany moved on. Ericka put down the meat she was holding through out the conversation, went to the costomer service desk, bought cigaretes using her real ID when she was carded.
Leaving the store, back in the cold of the parking lot, Ericka noticed Mandy’s Van. The front bumper had the dent from the dog she’d hit. Ericka put her hood up, lit a cigarette and began her short walk home.

The End