blockquote>diddly/spume/filarial/mudbug/transverse/
phalanges/sparrow

Kate and Ilene walked along the beach, oblivious to the spume gathering at their feet in the early morning. The tide was way out, nearly a half a mile, and gusts of wind were picking up bits of foam, like hockey pucks, carrying them a few feet at a time. Kate noticed what she thought were some mudbugs, like the kind that hung out in the river where she grew up, but quickly remembered that out here those are called crayfish. She thought of pointing out the crayfish to Ilene, then thought better of it—a) the crayfish could not be missed; b) the soothing song of surf and wind were too delicate to break up. Ditto for the teams of worms and assorted filarials teeming on passing seagull carcasses. What could she say about the frenzied business of death detail, and why bother? Ilene seemed a bit testy since the accident. Kate kept her thoughts to herself and continued, near blissful.

But at last Kate could contain herself no more. I’d like to just do nothing but diddly all day, she said, inserting her lovely voice into the sea sounds, simultaneously wondering why she couldn’t just shut the hell up sometimes.

Ilene, who’d been doing nothing but diddly for most of her adult life, sighed but gave no answer. She wasn’t going down that well-worn path. When they met, Kate was working as a notary public at the county courthouse. Ilene’s secretary was out sick, so Ilene walked some papers over in person for the notary seal, thinking—she ironically mused later—how glad she was to have a secretary, to avoid such menial tasks.

I’ll condense the part about their banter over the matter of the seals. It’s quite Hollywood through and through—just substitute confident, relaxed female lawyer for square-jawed, all-American male lawyer and you’ve go the gist of it. Kate had a tough time getting things just right, and almost spilled her soy latte all over Ilene’s briefs, har har. Ilene was kind enough to let her know that she had more copies back at the office—she gave a quick No worries in the Portland manner—but Kate wasn’t flustered about the job at hand. She was perturbed at a deeper level—she later figured it was a karmic level—and at all costs she just had to find an excuse to call up Ilene in the future.

She needn’t have worried, of course. By the middle of the sealing and stamping—which took a full ten minutes—Ilene had already decided to ask Kate out to the Veritable Quandary, a well-established bar at the waterfront with spacious, dark booths designed for seduction. She timed her proposition impeccably: as Kate handed over the stack of stamped documents, all she had to say–flatly, expertly–was Veritable Quandary—tonight—9 o’clock? A clerk from revenue at just that moment formed a queue behind Ilene, so the deal was sealed with nothing but a quick, slightly high-pitched, Sure! I’ll be there!

And Kate stamped on, for another two full years, as it turned out. Stamping, sealing, smiling, stressing the positive! Some days she received more in tip money than she had as a waitress. She kept this discreetly tucked away in one of the drawers of her dreadfully drab desk—but joked with “customers” all the time that she should really bring in a tip jar. Ilene showed up for the first month after they started dating, but then she let her secretary resume that duty—he loved getting out, after all, to flirt with the other paralegals and minions– and occasionally blow them in the ample handicapped stalls on the third floor, a favorite haunt for queens and their subjects at City Hall. All Ilene asked is that Rick get the job done–and Rick did that–every day, with great humor and speed. Clients raved about him all the time, and usually called in hopes of reaching him–his Southern drawl and sweetness were so much more pleasant than Ilene’s crisp, curt replies.

Once Rick resumed his duties, Kate got to know and love him just like everyone else, and she didn’t really miss Ilene’s visits. After she started seeing Ilene, she didn’t want to think about the differences in their social positions. She much preferred the leveling effect of the bedroom. For, while Ilene turned most heads at the women’s bar, she wasn’t quite sure what to do once she got them home. She was a 35-year old virgin – until she met Kate – a 25-year-old who had already taken and mastered a Tantric series taught by the renowned Ana Bergowitz in New York. It was, in fact, Kate’s only studious pursuit since high school, and she had excelled—so much, in fact, that Ana, unbeknownst to her, had been frequenting a shrink every week ever since. Kate had gotten into Ana’s psyche in a way that student’s mustn’t.

But that’s another tale, transversing our own, which is to be continued, if I can muster the followthrough of a sparrow.

monokini, oculist, montage, nepenthes, shark, savant, staple gun, gossip/gossipy