MaryAnne and Patty Have a Chat
by Deb Nordlie
Hi, MaryAnne, it’s Patty. Glad you answered the phone. Got a sec to talk?
Good. Hey, I just had a thought: whatdya say we get together so I can fill you in on recent a situation I sorted out. I think you’ll be interested. And I really wanna crow a bit about what I accomplished—have you pat me on the back. You’re alone, right? Your door closed?
Why? Because this is pretty personal, MaryAnne, and you know me, you know I’m not normally immodest. It’s not really in my DNA to be so proud or brag, but yes, I wanna boast about this to a pal. I resolved that problem, I talked about before, remember, MaryAnne? I did! Would you ever have guessed I could pull it off, Sweetie? That I could be so darn clever?
Well, hold your horses there, MaryAnne, I’m gettin’ to it—give me a sec to explain. Good God, you’re so impatient!
It’s about Carol; you do remember ol’ Carol, right? Oh, I know neither of us liked her especially, but that’s why I’m telling you this. I thought you’d appreciate this episode, applaud the conclusion.
You remember too how I met Fred right after I met Carol, right? And you know that Fred and I, well, Fred and I became, uh, involved and of course that demanded the greatest of secrecy, especially considering my security clearance and all. We were having a fine time—very hush-hush naturally, and well, we had no reason to think we couldn’t keep it going. It was exciting, it was harmless, at least I thought it was harmless, but then, damn it to hell, Carol found out. Soooo, now we had a lit-tle problem, Fred and me: how to handle the Carol Situation. And as you’d expect, Fred was hopeless, and I was left to figure it out. Naturally.
Men, right?
But actually, MaryAnne, it was so much simpler than I thought.
December was God-awful, remember? And everyone was tryin’ to get outta town to somewhere warm. I knew Carol would be leaving for Florida because I did my research, and I’d watched her carefully. Took notes. So I knew my stuff. Knew about her trip. I knew she’d be at the station the next morning with the others; all jammed together—foolish, silly creatures—all wanting to get in that train car and be first. The warmth, MaryAnne, the warmth seduced them; they wanted to be out of that horrible wind here in D.C., and they were awfully darn close to the tracks. Carol was easy to spot, even in that mob. I mean, she was wearing that ridiculous leopard hat, you know the one? Dear God, call the Fashion Police because there was the real crime that Tuesday.
Well, all it took was one teensy weensy push at the small of her back, and that was it. And, well—
MaryAnne? MaryAnne, you OK? Your voice sounds off—
Well anyway, MaryAnne, afterward, like everybody else, my hand went to my mouth. And like everybody else, I shrieked. But my shriek was of pure pleasure. Triumph. Joy.
Why? Because I had done it, MaryAnne, that’s why! Good God, get up to speed here, Sweetie! The Carol Problem was solved. All gone! Easy peasy!
What’s that? Now, why would you even think to ask me that question? No, it wasn’t painful, MaryAnne. I mean, I didn’t feel a thing.
So, you have time to get that drink later, just you and me about nine-ish? Let’s drink to ol’ Carol even if neither of us liked her. I mean, it’s the respectful thing, the gracious thing to do, right? An alcoholic sendoff to good ol’ Carol! And we might as well drink to her asinine hat as long as we’re at it. And then, yippee, swill to me and Fred! Toast to my success and drink ‘til the crash of the glasses, no, no, ‘til the crash of bottles is distinctly heard all over this hick town. Let’s celebrate my sweet victory!
But keep in mind, MaryAnne; I still do want this kept quiet. Sure, we can discuss it more if you want but I’m counting on you to keep our little chat confidential, right, just between us gals? You know, just girl chatter between good friends? And if you won’t tell, well then, neither will I.
So, okay then, see you nine-ish. Ciao, Sweetie!
Deb Nordlie has taught English since dinosaurs ruled the earth. After a lifetime of writing assignment sheets, she’s branched into life stories, believing “we are all anthologies filled with short stories and poems.” Occasionally though, she pens uncharacteristic oddball lit. She teaches writing in adult school currently and continues to scribble away at the Great American Novel. You can view her work at the Chestnut Review, San Diego Poetry Annual, Coffee + Crumbs, Reminisce, Crown City Magazine, and the San Diego Reader.