I’ve got two words for
you: shut the fuck up
Midnight Run
Wally had managed to wrest ten bottles of cheap
house wine and two hours worth of free domestic tap beer from Bulstrode’s
notoriously tight fist. This made
the Ooh La La party a much more appealing fete to the ladies of Lightweight
Group. Those who knew Wally were
fond of him. And those who didn't
were most likely still fond of free wine on a Sunday afternoon. And Wally was counting on all that free
wine loosening their grip on last night's tips.
Celia and Brooke walked into the March for the party at the same time, both
smiling. When Brooke had gotten
home last night, Celia was gone.
So she went to bed with her secret intact. When Celia had come home the next morning, Brooke was
excited to tell her her big news.
But Celia had her own news to tell.
Before we get all up in the love connection conversations,
I’ll tell you that neither girl was burdened (or blessed) with what you might
call an ample romantic history.
This is not to say they were virgins. Neither was. Brooke had rolled around at time or two with
various goatee-ed activists, equally as (purportedly) uninterested in
conventional partnership as she.
Celia had gone on dates and been to parties with cute guys who made her
laugh and turned her on. They'd
both had sex. They'd just, neither one, been in love.
There is, of late, a certain hysteria surrounding the
"hook up" culture.
Hook-ups, of course, being the modern parlance for sex without
commitment. This is a vaguely
paranoid and misogynist position.
After all, there's been no historic hand-wringing when it was only the
boys seeking out the commitment-free sex.
But, once the girls started doing it too, a collective "oh, this
will not do" breathed out from a large swath of American culture.
As we said then and now: whatever. Brooke and Celia were part of a burgeoning American feminist
ethos that believed that girls could have sex for fun too.
This was liberating and exciting. But sex for the sake of sex does not mitigate the awkward
learning curve of adult relationships.
Celia, the practical sister, was much more prepared to fall in love
because she was the one whose sexual history was made up of pleasant,
impractical events. She'd had her
sex because she'd wanted to have her sex (always the best reason). Brooke, on the other hand, had turned
sex into a political act. In an
effort to prove that she was free from convention, she'd approached her sex
partners in a blunt, business-like fashion and then had brief, unsatisfying sex
with young guys who were probably a little terrified of her. She'd never given into the
feeling. She'd always been guarded
and costumed.
You can see then, how Celia was more prepared to fall in
love. She’s spent the last few
nights with Jorge, having lots of sex and conversation; laughter and pizza. They’d had so much fun. She'd never have guessed at how sexy
Gio was! Celia was glowing.
Brooke was thrilled to hear about Celia's night with
Gio. He was perfect for Celia
and Brooke was glad they'd both finally figured it out. It made her even more excited to tell
Celia about Teddy.
They'd been talking about Gio all the way down to the
March. When they'd found a seat
and poured some wine, Brooke said, "I have some news too."
"Really," said Celia, suddenly wary.
"Teddy and I made up," said Brooke, beaming.
"We're in love and I'm moving in with him."
"WHAT?!" should Celia.
"I'm in love with Teddy and I'm moving in with
him," said Brooke, defiantly calm.
"You barely know him," said Celia. "He's too old for you and he's...
mean! And you barely fucking know
him!"
"I know I love him," said Brooke. "And he is not mean. He loves me and we're going to do
important work together."
They argued passionately for 10 minutes. Celia was the "he's too old and
you barely know him" immoveable object and Brooke was the "I love him
and we'll change the world together" unstoppable force. It was a classic impasse. Brooke got mad and told Celia she was
moving out today. Celia said,
"fine."
Neither stayed for the party, which was a success. Wally moved a lot of product. The young
women of The Lightweight Group got some good advice about skin care, some
pretty decent cosmetics and lightly buzzed.
When it was over, Wally moved to the bar to enjoy a well-deserved
martini. Fred was passing his
afternoon there as well, alternatively pouring over box scores and staring
wistfully at Mary, who was behind the bar red-inking a piece she was submitting
to the law review. She was bucking
for editor next year and was sweating the piece. The way she saw it, editor of the law review at a
second-tier school would look better than middle of the pack at a first
tier. She'd be in the US
Attorney's office by next year.
From the other side of the bar, Fred was sweating
yesterday's box scores. He wasn't
the only Bulstrode who liked to gamble, but he was the only one who did it
semi-professionally. It was
getting tougher and tougher to get money out of his father and he was pretty
sure his credit card was going to start being declined any day now. So he'd taken to making some bets here
and there until school started and his father loosened up the purse
strings. But he'd been on such a
losing streak lately. Fucking
Cubs!
"So," said Wally, settling in. "Let's gossip a little. What were Brooke and Celia girl-fighting over?"
"Brooke is apparently moving in with Teddy," said
Mary. "Ain't that a
pisser?"
"Ugh," said Wally. "I don't blame her sister
for freaking out. Teddy is one of
those guys who's always been a horrible old man. Even in his twenties. While I, on the other hand, have
remained a carefree bon vivant all these years."
"You sure fucking have," said Mary, laughing. "But it is too bad about
Brooke. She's going to end up as
miserable as his is. Frankly, I think Gio got the better end
of the sister deal there."
"Maybe someone should talk to Brooke," said Wally,
sipping his martini and planning an intervention. "And tell her how miserable she'll end up with
Teddy. He'll ruin that girl."
"Teddy will make her miserable," said Fred, sill
pouring over the sports page.
"But she'll figure it out herself. She'll be OK."
Mary stared at Fred, surprised and a little touched by his rare perspicacity.
Mary stared at Fred, surprised and a little touched by his rare perspicacity.
