Eileen Slovak

Chapter Twenty-six: Girl’s Brunch Popping Off

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and locales are products of the author’s imagination. They are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is coincidental. Copyright © 2024 by Eileen Slovak.

Scarlet

Sunday after Mass, I join the girls at the Un Pub for brunch. Ben’s wants us to offer some feedback on his new brunch menu. Plus, it’s an opportunity to rehash last night’s outing. We start with three of Corky’s magic coffees. Then we quickly move on to the specialty bloody Mary’s. They’re rimmed in Old Bay, topped with a jumbo shrimp, a white asparagus stalk and a crisp piece of bacon. We’re having three different items from the menu to cover the spectrum. I went for the fried oyster “Ben-addiction”, poached eggs with arugula in a tangy vinaigrette. Corky has the peanut butter chocolate chip pancakes with extra whipped cream. Maggie ordered the salmon omelet with horseradish sauce, tricolor fingerling hash browns with a side of broiled grapefruit. Maggie watches enviously as Corky gobbles down the last of her pancakes, sopping up syrup, chocolate and whipped cream with every bite.

      “How do you eat like that but never gain an ounce? I hate you.”

      “What? I have a high metabolism. You know you love me.” Corky answers with her mouth full. Then looks at me. “Sorry I was so hard on you last night, Red.”

      Initially I was stewing. But I had some time to think about it last night after I dropped them both off.

      “Me too. There’s always truth in what you say, Corky. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I do need to make more of an effort. But you can’t honestly expect to meet anyone of real importance in a night club. It doesn’t happen that way.”

      “Oh, please! It happens all the time. People don’t admit that’s how they met. I know couples it has worked out for.” Corky says pulling a cigarette out of the pack that’s lying on the table. She’s pretending to smoke it.

      “Like who?” I ask.

      “Maybe I’ll take up smoking,” Maggie says looking down at her stomach. “They say it speeds up your metabolism.”

      “Max and Jenna,” Corky answers, offering Maggie a cigarette. I snatch it away and tuck it back into the pack.

      “Hey Mom, I just wanted to try it,” Maggie says, sticking her tongue out at me. “I heard they split up and are fighting over who gets the dog and the espresso machine.”

      “There are others, but I can’t think of any right now,” Corky says. “We’ll never know anyway. Every couple who meets in a bar recreates their ‘how we met story’ to make it sound better. No one says, “yeah, we got really drunk, screwed each other’s brains out, then oops, she missed her period, so we got married.”

Corky flicks a pretend ash into the ashtray. I find myself wondering if she has to show ID when she buys a new pack. She looks like a high school student smoking her mom’s stolen butts.

      “Well, that’s ridiculous,” I grumble. “I really miss honesty in the world.” 

      “I blame social media,” Maggie adds. “Are you giving up smoking Corky? Good for you.”

      “Maybe. I heard pretending to smoke helps you cut back. So far, it’s making me want to smoke more.”

      “Another weekend gone to the dogs. I’m not looking forward to this week. Same crap, different week. Frank dumped a year’s worth of neglect in my lap.”

      “The Bachelor is on tonight. I can’t wait to see who gets rejected. I love the drama,” Maggie says cheerfully.

      “I’m baffled by America’s fascination with reality television. Why not live in the real world instead of watching it on TV?” I ask.

      “Because the real world is dishonest, remember,” Corky says.

      “Scarlet you are such a hypocrite; just admit you fantasized about the last bachelor.” Maggie goads.

      “I never said that! You always misquote me. I said that I had a dream about him once. There’s a big difference,” I say, using a knife tip to draw Sean’s initials in my leftover hollandaise sauce.

      “Oh, I can’t wait to hear this one,” Corky laughs, pretending to put out her cigarette.

      “A fantasy is something you create with your waking mind that you have complete control over. A dream is the product of your subconscious. You can’t help where your mind goes when you’re asleep,” I say. “Furthermore, I don’t know why I tell you anything, Maggie, you couldn’t keep a secret in a bucket.”

      “That is the biggest pile of horse hockey I think I’ve ever heard,” Corky says. “You lust after some fake TV bachelor! That says something about you Scarlet, something very scary.”

      “Whoever said the dream was sexual?” I say blushing. “He was a doctor. I have a propensity for intelligent men. Intellectual arrogance is a turn on. Whoopee! We all have our quirks. Unlike some people, I can control my impulses. I can deny the physical in favor of a more meaningful outcome.”

      “Scarlet you’re always wound so tight, always so in control. Someday, some guy is going to blow your cork. That my friend will be that,” Corky says pointing at me. “I hope I’m there to say I told you so.”

      “Amen sister,” Maggie adds, giving Corky a high five. They are having a good laugh at my expense.

      “That’s it. I’m getting new friends.”

      “Wait a minute,” Cory says. “Isn’t that Mr. Hot Bod, or should I say, the Reality Stud? Bar side, twelve o’clock.”

      “How should I know?” I say, trying to sound disinterested. I feel a familiar twinge, hoping curiosity doesn’t show on my face. Corky is making a popping sound by pulling her finger out of the corner her closed mouth. Maggie nearly splits her sides laughing.

      “You two are like a couple of juvenile delinquents,” I say, reddening. “It’s embarrassing to be out in public with you sometimes. It’s really, truly mortifying.”

      Maggie starts humming “Pop Goes the Weasel”. Corky completely loses it, exploding with laughter, nearly falling off her chair.

      “I think I peed my pants!” She cries, “stop, you’re killing me!”

      “My niece and nephews are more mature than you guys. Great! Now he’s looking over here along with everyone else in the place.” I duck behind the menu to hide. “I have things to do,” I pull out my credit card, intent on leaving.

      “God forbid we ever be the center of attention!” Corky snickers.

      “Oh, come on, we’re only kidding around!” Maggie laughs. “Stay! Admit it! You have nothing more important to do than hang out with us.”

      “Relax Red, he’s leaving anyway. You seriously shouldn’t follow him. He’ll think you’re a stalker,” Corky whispers.

      “I told you before, I’m not interested. If you think he’s so hot, why don’t you go after him?”

      “He’s not my type,” Corky says, pretending to relight her cigarette.

      “No. That’s not why,” Maggie says.

      Corky looks puzzled.

      “It’s because,” Maggie says, “deep down you’re crazy in love with that adorable roommate of yours.”

      “What? Jakers? He’s my best friend. Where would you get that idea from?”

      “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe it’s the way you light up like a neon beer sign every time you say his name,” Maggie says.

      “Psssh! You’re whacked!” Corky says.

      “It’s so obvious he’s nuts about you. Tell the truth, did you two ever do it?  I mean, even by accident?” Maggie asks.

      “How do you have accidental sex?” I ask.

      “It happens,” Maggie says. “You have a little too much to drink, wander into the wrong bedroom, you know, stuff happens.”

      “No! Jeez!” Corky yells. “That has never happened!”

      I sit back smiling, relieved that my love life is no longer the focus of the discussion.

      “But you’re roommates. You’ve seen him naked, right?” Maggie asks.

      “No! I mean, maybe. Not on purpose. We share a bathroom. Shut up! Because I’d never mess up my friendship with Jake. So you can drop this line of questioning,” Corky says, squirming in her seat. “Where’s Ben? I need another Bloody Mary. I probably have to make it myself too! Some day off.”

      “Oh, I don’t know,” I say, “I think Ben’s been in love with her even longer.”

      “Ben? Ben,” Corky says, lowering her voice “is old enough to be my dad. That’s disgusting.”

      “He doesn’t look that old to me,” I say.

      “He’s ancient.” Corky says, “He’s like, forty-five.”

      “I guess if he had a baby at nineteen, he could be your dad. But he’d be a hot dad. How about Ben and Maggie?” I offer. “You two have always had a spark. He’s a cute, nice guy with a good business.”

      All at once, we glance over studying Ben. He looks up oblivious to the fact that he’s the menu item up for discussion.

      “How’d you girls like the new brunch menu? Can I get you anything else?”

      We answer back with a chorus of: “Great, excellent, really good.”

      “If he only knew he’s today’s special,” Maggie snorts.

      “What is up with your love life, Maggie?” I ask, “I haven’t heard you talk about a guy in weeks.”

      Maggie clears her throat. “Promise you won’t be mad?”

      We look at her in anticipation.

      “I’ve been sort of seeing someone.”

      “You’ve been seeing someone,” I say, “but this is the first we’re hearing of it?”

      “Oh, boy,” Corky leaps up to get the coffee pot, refilling all of our cups. She asks Ben to make three more Bloody Mary’s.

      “He’s an anesthesiologist. I wanted to make sure there was something to tell before I said anything. Besides, I wasn’t sure what you’d think.”

      “What? Give us the scoop! What’s his name? What does he look like? Have you slept with him yet?” Corky says. “Details, details, please!”

      “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me,” I say, wounded.

      “Here’s the thing. He and his wife are separated. I was afraid you wouldn’t approve since he’s not officially divorced yet.”

      “Oh,” I stare down into my coffee.

      “See! I knew it! You disapprove!”

      “What? I didn’t say anything?”

      “His name is Joe. He’s so not my type. I never date guys from the hospital, but we only work together sometimes. We’re keeping it quiet.”

      “Whose idea was that?” I ask.

      “I was hoping you wouldn’t judge.”

      “Why not go public? He’s not your boss.” Corky says. “Who cares what people at work think?”

      “It’s complicated. We mostly hang out at my apartment. His divorce is final this week. After that we’ll take it outside. If it makes you feel better Scarlet, his wife is the one who filed way before we ever got involved.”

      “Sounds sticky,” I say. “Does he have kids?”

      “Two teenagers, a boy and girl.”

      “Do they know about you?”

      “Do you see why I didn’t tell you?”

      “More important, Mags,” Corky asks, crushing out her unlit cigarette, “does he have any big talents?”

      Corky can always make us laugh to break the tension.

      “He’s so attentive in bed. Maybe, I have to thank his ex for that. He’s three inches shorter than me, but I don’t even care. He’s forty-four. Ancient, right?”

      Corky shrugs. “To each his own.”

      “He makes me laugh. What can I say? He treats me like a goddess. It’s hard not to fall for a guy like that. I never expected this to happen.”

      “If he makes you happy, I’m reserving all judgment until I meet him,” I say. “When will that be exactly?”

      “Thanks, Scarlet. I’ll work on the meeting part.”

      “Bring him to my show next weekend,” Corky says. “It can be your little coming out party. There will be tons of people there. You’ll blend in. If you see anyone from work, you can pretend you bumped into each other. Please tell me you guys didn’t forget it’s this weekend?”

      “Of course, we didn’t forget,” I say, realizing I’d completely forgotten.

      “Maybe even Scarlet will bring someone,” Corky says with a wink.

We finish our drinks and go our separate ways. Corky has to put the finishing touches on the sculpture she’s presenting at the show. Maggie says she has a week’s worth of laundry to finish. I need to clean my apartment before the dust bunnies start mating again. For once, though, my mind is not on work. Instead, my thoughts keep drifting to him, the Reality Stud. Who is he? Why does it seem like he’s there every time I turn around? I’m sure I’m imagining it. Imagination can be a dangerous thing, better to stick with reality.