Kim paced in front of Gerald sitting on the couch. She spun toward the floor, swooping down to pick up dirty laundry, then she grabbed at a pair of running sneakers. Huddling with the ragged mountain Kim hurried into the bedroom and Gerald could hear her dropping everything in a pile by the bedside table. He sighed and concentrated on the television.
She marched back into the living room, arms open wide and inquiring “Are you even gonna help?” A long day was behind her and long night is in front of her. It’s not always easy being a student and an employee. “Come on Ger, you could at least help me clean up. The casserole will be ready soon and I have to keep an eye on it.”
After she stood there for a minute Gerald said “Alright,” and he pushed his hands into the cushions of the couch. He lifted his weight until he was on his feet. “I don’t see what the rush is,” he said. “Charles isn’t going to be here for another hour.”
“Well,” she started, “I don’t want to always be waiting till the last minute. What if he were to get here early?”
“It’s not a big deal,” said Gerald. He motioned his hand around the room and added, “He doesn’t care if the place isn’t tidy.”
“I care,” Kim said, picking up a stack of old books in the middle of the floor. She crouched in front of the bookshelf. “You know, there’s this bookshelf here for a reason.” And she began throwing the books in random order on the bottom shelf.
“I know that it’s there,” said Gerald. “I was just thumbing through a few pages from each one today.”
Kim crossed her arms. “Well, when were you planning on putting them back?”
Gerald reached out and scooped up a few used dishes from the coffee table. He stacked them in his arms and started toward the kitchen. “Don’t be like that, huh?”
“This place is always a mess,” she said. “Sometimes I wish you would apply yourself more, y’know?”
It had been almost six months and Gerald still couldn’t find a shred of a job. He had exhausted his friends with his complaining. Each copy of his resume had a parade of fingerprints along the margins. But nothing nowhere was hiring. Kim had been carrying him, paying rent twice for him and affording the groceries.
Gerald placed the soiled dishes into the sink and he walked to the table where he poured a glass of cheap brown liquor. “I’m looking,” He said. “It’s not that easy anymore.” He sipped from the glass.
The dining room light shone through the amber liquid and Kim reached up and rubbed her neck. Her attraction to him had changed along with everything else. She just doesn’t see him in the same light as she used to. He sits on his ass during the day and sucks on the booze each night. Resentment had become just as much a household word as “toilet” or “sink.”
Kim pushed her hair behind her ear and picked up their coats from the back of the dining room chairs. Gerald sipped the drink. Kim shoved the coats into the closet, not checking to see if they made it onto their hangers or not. “Look,” she said. “I know it’s been hard. I know you’re out there looking. I’m not accusing you of not trying. It’s just . . . it’s difficult for me sometimes, too.”
Gerald walked back into the living room. He scratched his belly and belched. Kim had picked up the remote and Gerald asked, “What are you doing?”
“I’m turning it off,” she said. Her arm extended and the remote was aimed at the television.
“Don’t turn it off,” he reached out. “I’m watching that.”
The screen turned to a small white dot inside the black. The sound of screen static settling. She dropped the remote on the couch. “You’re supposed to be helping me,” she said. “Charles is going to be here and I don’t need you watching TV right now.”
“Alright,” he said.
She went into the bathroom and turned on the light. Gerald could hear her spraying something and then wiping it away. After a few minutes she came back out and Gerald had a look of confusion on his face. “Were you scrubbing the toilet?”
“I was wiping down the counters and the sink.”
He shook his head and crouched down. “Well, here, put the guitar away.”
Her hands push out. “Wait, why?”
Gerald rolled his eyes. “Every time Charles comes over and gets a few drinks in him he always picks up the guitar. Frankly I don’t want to listen to him playing guitar.”
“I like when he plays the guitar,” she said. “It sounds nice.”
Gerald stopped. His eyes scanned over Kim. “You aren’t fucking him, are you?”
Kim stopped in her tracks. Her smile drowned into the lines of her face. “Why do you think that?” she asked. “Why would you say something like that?”
“Come on,” he said, “Why are you going through all this effort?” He leaned in and looked up at her. “You trying to impress him or something?”
“Ger,” she sighed. “He’s your friend,” she said.
Gerald felt a sudden kind of sadness overwhelm him. “That’s why I am asking. Any of my other friends drop by and you don’t lift a finger. Listen, I know he’s a good guy, he’s got his shit together, he’s successful and all that.” He stood and moved close to her. “I don’t want you lying to me about this.”
There was a sudden knock at the door.
Kim looked at the door hesitantly. “Can you just drop it for now?”
“You better come clean with me,” he said. His sadness was beginning to come through in his speech, bordering on hostility. There were a few seconds of silence and another knock. “Tell me Kim. Are you fucking him? . . Are you?” Another knock.
She swallowed hard and her eyes kept going toward the knocking. She brought a finger up and pointed, “He’s here right now. I told you he’d be early.”
“Did you know he’d be early?”
Her eyes went wide in her defense. She gathered herself and changed her tone. “This is not the time for accusations.”
Gerald threw his arms in the air and said “When is, then?”
Kim brought her voice down to a whisper. “Shhhh! Don’t be so loud. He’ll hear us.”
“Tell me Kim. Don’t think you can get out of this.”
She hurried away. “Well, now’s not the time to discuss it.” Kim was at the door. Her hand grabbed the doorknob and turned it counter-clockwise.
The door swung open and there stood Charles. Pressed trousers, clean slick hair, face shaved donning a hint of cologne. He was holding a bottle of decent red wine and a huge smile. “Hey guys!”
Kim perked up and smiled back, threw her arms around Charles and embraced him with a hug. Gerald moved in and extended his hand. He could feel the electricity moving up his spine and over his shoulders. Still, he tried to maintain a welcoming tone. “Hey,” he said to Charles, “You made it.”
Kim let go, stepped back, and the two men shook hands. “How you been?” Charles asked Gerald. “How’s the job hunt going?”
“It is what it is,” said Gerald. “What’s on your shoes?”
Everyone looked down. Charles loafers were covered in a thin dust of white powder. “Oh that,” he said, looking at Gerald and then Kim, back at Gerald. “I’ll tell you one thing Ger, when you finally decide to settle down and buy a house, make sure you research whether or not you’re gonna end up with gophers in your yard.” Charles stomped his feet into the Welcome mat and moved inside. Kim closed the door behind him.
“But one thing I learned,” Charles went on, “is that Plaster of Paris is very effective.” Charles took his coat off and Kim hung it from the back of the dining room chair. “You get one of those twenty-five pound bags from the hardware store and keep it in your garage. When those little fuckers start burrowing all over the place, leaving holes like landmines, you pour this Plaster of Paris stuff down each and every hole.” His finger accented “Each and every hole” in Gerald’s face. “Those gophers, they love to eat Plaster of Paris. Once they ingest the powder, it makes its way into their guts and as it does, the plaster hardens.”
“What does that do?” Kim asked.
Charles aimed his smile at Kim. “Then they die.”
Gerald was keeping himself from blurting out any sarcastic response which would only reveal how jealous he was of Charles intelligence or wealth. Charles walked into the kitchen and grabbed two glasses from the cupboard like he was in his own kitchen. He walked back out and reached for Gerald’s cheap bottle. Gerald pretended to not be bothered by the gesture. “Aside from their peskiness, you know the best part?” Charles continued, “They’re already buried that way.” He poured the drinks and handed the second glass to Kim who kept smiling. “Instant fertilizer,” he said.
Charles reached his hand out and toasted “To the gophers.” Kim clinked glasses and Gerald had forgotten he was holding a glass already. They waited for him and then clinked glasses again. They drank.
Charles let the sting from the booze make its way down before saying, “Between them and used coffee grounds, my garden is really blossoming.” He looked at his glass. “Jesus, Ger. You go for the blends these days, do you?”
Gerald seethed and spoke. “Garden, eh? What are you growing in your garden?”
“Oh,” Kim interrupted. “He’s growing tomatoes, and green beans—quite larger than anything you’ll find in the store. . .”
It was so obvious. Gerald controlled his hands from shaking. The bitch, he thought. She is fucking him. Look at them, look at the way they interact. The hug, the coat, the smiling, with the goddamned glasses. It’s so clear, and right in front of me. They might as well get down to it right here in the living room. These two are having a little pow-wow of their own, and now their flaunting it in front of me to see if I will react. They want to triumph over my insecurities, they want to exploit my fears and weakness by exposing their flaws to me, if anything just in their subtleties. I don’t know who’s worse—them or me. Sure, I’m not as attractive as him, I may not be working—I may be a loser, but fuck me if I don’t have any dignity! They won’t get the best of me. No, I won’t give them the satisfaction.
Gerald breathed deep until he was relaxed. He finished his drink and walked between them, stopped at the table and filled his glass. Over his shoulder he heard Kim listing off “Thyme, Rosemary, and Basil.” He threw back his drink as Kim said “Squash and peas.” The two were giggling and they didn’t see Gerald clench his jaw at the sound.
Kim sipped the drink and continued, “And not to mention the array of orchids and snap-dragons you have around the edges of the yard. . .”
Gerald poured another and kept himself from shaking his head in disbelief. So that’s what you’re doing while I’ve been at home, he thought. I bet your work schedule is a faked too.
“And it’s all thanks to those little dead rodents,” said Charles.
Over his shoulder, Gerald could hear their glasses clinking again along with more giggling from Kim.
“Hey Kim,” Gerald said sideways out of his mouth. “What do you think?” He turned to the pair and said, “Is dinner ready?”
The garden party broke apart and Kim fetched the casserole while the men sat at the table with plates and silverware. Charles kept talking and talking while stuffing a napkin into his collar. Gerald drank and watched them.
Gerald was brushing his teeth when he heard Kim unsnapping the buttons from her blouse. In the reflection of the mirror he saw Kim undress down to her panties. She was wearing a red thong. He watched her as he tried to remember if he had seen the thong before. It looked completely foreign to him. It only makes more sense, he thought. The water rinsed the residue from his brush and Gerald leaned under the running faucet to swish his mouth out. After he spat he turned the water off and walked to the toilet.
He pissed and he flushed and he flicked the light switch. He found his way under the covers in the dark. Kim was already lying there. When Gerald got close he discovered she was still only wearing the thong. He got closer and his hand moved from her hip, past the waist band and down her thigh.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Kim said. “And you’re wrong . . . On both parts.”
She rolled over and tucked the blankets between herself and Gerald.
Gerald laid there staring at her in the until his eyes were adjusted enough to make out the detail in her hair. He didn’t even raise his voice. He rolled onto his back very quietly and looked at the ceiling.
Author: Lawrence Goodwin
