Girlfriends (Patrick Sanchez) (19 page)

“Hi. I need to report a dog-biting incident. I need the number for the animal shelter,” the woman said into her phone, glaring at Shirley.

As the angry woman waited for a response on the other end of the phone, Shirley looked at Gina and gave her a long stare. She then picked up the dog, grabbed Gina’s hand, and began running down the trail away from the fat lady. A few seconds later they turned around to see the woman fumbling on her Rollerblades, trying to catch up with them.

Just as she was saying “Get back here, God damn it!” she took another dive and fell on her face. As the woman struggled to get up, Shirley, still holding Gomez in her arms, stuck out her tongue and started shaking her hips at the lady in a nanny-nanny-boo-boo sort of fashion. She and Gina both started laughing and began running again. Eventually, the woman was out of sight, and they started back toward the bank.

“You are bad,” Gina said to Shirley with a grateful smile as they approached the bank entrance.

“Thank God, huh. She’s probably at the emergency room right now—getting some awful injections or something,” Shirley replied with an evil laugh.

“You’re terrible. I hope not,” Gina said, laughing as well. “You’re looking a little flushed. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. The run was just a bit much for me,” Shirley said, suddenly starting to breathe harder and heavier.

“Are you sure?”

“Actually no. I can’t quite catch my breath,” Shirley said, holding her chest and starting to wheeze.

“Come on,” Gina said, pulling Shirley toward her car. “We’re going to the hospital.”

Jerks

C
heryl stood just inside the restaurant, waiting for Cooper to arrive. It was especially crowded, so she hoped they would still be able to recognize each other. Thinking that she should have asked him what he’d be wearing, she saw a sharply dressed black man with a shaved head walk through the door and give her a big smile.

She wondered what made him so sure she was his date, but then she realized she was the only black woman in the restaurant. He sauntered over to her, widened his smile, and extended his right arm. Cheryl smiled and shook his hand.

“Hi, I’m Cooper.”

“Hi, nice to meet you. Cheryl.”

“Let’s get a table,” he said, almost sounding authoritative.

“Sure,” Cheryl said, pleased with the looks of her date and trying to read any early clues about what he thought of her. After the hostess showed them to a small table along the window, they gave their menus a quick read and set them down.

“Were you waiting long?” Cooper asked.

“No, no. I’d just got here.”

“Great,” Cooper said. “So, you live in the neighborhood?” he asked, trying to make conversation.

“Yeah, on P Street, near Seventeenth,” Cheryl responded.

“Gosh, you’re kind of stuck right in the middle of Queer World, aren’t you?”

“Queer? Does anyone still use that word?”

“Sorry. You know . . . all the gays live around here, don’t they?”

“Well, the neighborhood is pretty gay, I guess, but it doesn’t make any difference to me. Why should I care?” Cheryl said, a little turned off by Cooper’s apparent homophobia, not to mention his stupidity—who was dumb enough to use a word like “queer” at a trendy restaurant in the middle of Dupont Circle?

“I don’t know, just seems a lot like Sodom and Gomorrah to me. As a Christian, I just can’t condone that kind of behavior.”

Oh, God, here we go with the Christianity thing again, Cheryl thought as she rolled her eyes at him.

Noticing her reaction, he softened his stance a little. “Well, like the Bible says, love the sinner, hate the sin. You know, it’s the same with the Jews. I don’t hate the Jews, I just hate the fact that they don’t accept Jesus as the Son of God.”

“Are you joking me?” Cheryl asked.

“Joking? No. Why?”

“Look, Cooper. Maybe this isn’t such a good idea,” Cheryl said, starting to get up from the table and swearing to herself that she would never place or respond to a personal ad ever again.

“Why? What’s wrong?”

“I think we just have different philosophies of life.”

“Oh, come on, give a guy a chance,” he said, lifting his eyebrows. “I’m sorry. I really don’t have anything against the Jews. I don’t care about the gays either. I just wouldn’t want to live in the middle of it. Suppose one of them tries to pick me up or something?”

“Well, one would guess you’d say no thank you, and that would be the end of it.”

Cooper laughed to himself. “I guess you’re right. Really, the queers don’t bother me that much. It’s not a big deal. Come on, sit back down. Let’s have lunch. Give me a second chance.”

Cheryl sighed and sat back down. “I think ‘gay’ or ‘homosexual’ is a better word to use than ‘queer,’ ” Cheryl whispered, deciding that if she was going to stay, she may as well try to educate the buffoon a little. “You do realize half the people in this restaurant are probably gay?”

Cooper looked around. “Is this a gay restaurant?”

“No.”

“Then what are all these gay people doing here?” Cooper asked, seeming almost alarmed.

“Eating lunch. Relax, would you?” Cheryl said with a slight smile. “All right, why don’t we order?” she said as the waiter approached their table. She was somewhat amused with Cooper’s obvious unease. She had concluded that he was a bit of a jerk, but then, there was something about jerks that was attractive to Cheryl. The nicer a guy was to her, the more boring she found him. A few years earlier she dated a man who treated her like a queen. He was head over heels in love with her and would have given her the world on a silver platter if she had asked for it. He would even do her grocery shopping and laundry for her sometimes. Only problem was he bored her to tears. He was a great personal assistant, but as a boyfriend, Cheryl wasn’t interested. She needed someone to spar with every once in a while.

As the waiter took Cooper’s order, Cheryl rubbed her eyes and thought about her dysfunctional taste in men. She knew she had an unhealthy attraction to gruff men who didn’t treat her the way she deserved to be treated, but she couldn’t seem to overcome it. In fact, if Peter ever decided to really commit to her, she’d probably lose interest.

Cheryl and Cooper actually ended up having a nice time through lunch. Cooper had an air of confidence about him that was attractive to Cheryl but bothered her at the same time. He had definite opinions about everything from politics and religion to where to get the best hamburger. It was nice to meet someone who was so decisive but a little unnerving as well. There was a fine line between healthy confidence and annoying arrogance, and she wasn’t sure which side Cooper fell on yet, but she was definitely attracted to him.

Latin Strangers

“W
here is she?” Linda said to no one in particular. It had been almost three hours since Gina left for lunch. Linda was grumpy, not to mention hungry. She had just emerged from the women’s bathroom. Lately someone hadn’t been flushing the toilet after using it. It was maddening to Linda how disgusting some people could be. They did things in the bathroom at work that they wouldn’t dream of doing in their own home, where they would actually have to clean it up.

The bank was short-staffed, and there was no way Linda could leave to get something to eat while Gina was still gone. She sneaked into the back to guzzle down some water before helping the next customer. About five of them were waiting for assistance, and she and Liz were the only ones on the floor. There were plenty of tellers behind the line, but they weren’t trained to handle the sort of things Linda and Gina did. Liz had been with the same customer for more than a half hour. Linda figured that was the only reason she was ever promoted to branch manager—she was so slow and inept with the customers, the bigwigs wanted her in more of a managerial job. Guess they didn’t realize she would be just as slow and inept in those duties.

Linda emerged from the back and greeted the next customer. She was faintly perspiring from the hectic day, which made her panty hose even more uncomfortable. Lately, she was growing more and more discontent with her job. She was a lesbian, for heaven’s sake—what was she doing in a job where she had to wear hose every day?

“Hi, I’m Linda. What can I help you with?” she asked the exotic-looking young lady, extending her hand.

The petite stranger with an olive complexion and shiny black hair shook Linda’s hand and smiled. “I need to open a checking account. I just moved here a few weeks ago.”

“Sure, come over to my desk and have a seat.”

As Linda pulled out her own chair to sit down, her customer slumped into her seat as if she’d been on her feet all day.

“What a day. I just got back from the Motor Vehicle Administration. It took almost two hours to get a driver’s license. From here I have to go fight with U-Haul. They overcharged me for the truck I used to move here.”

“Moving can be a real hassle. Where are you from?”

“Boston.”

Feeling obligated to do so, Linda asked, “So what brings you to the D.C. area?” She didn’t really care what brought her to town and, with a lobby full of customers, she didn’t have time to chitchat.

“It’s a long story.”

“Oh.” Linda paused. “So you’re looking to open an account?” she added, hoping to move things along.

“Yeah, my girlfriend and I broke up a few months ago,” the woman added, ignoring Linda’s question. “She was the reason I moved to Boston in the first place. So after we went our separate ways, it was either go back home to my parents or accept a job in D.C. Obviously, I chose the latter.”

Girlfriend? Did she say girlfriend? Linda thought to herself, suddenly forgetting about the other customers waiting.

“Girlfriend?” Linda asked, looking a little confused. This chick has straight written all over her face.

“Yeah. I’m getting too personal, aren’t I? I just assumed you . . . well, what I meant to say was—”

“You assumed I was a lesbian,” Linda said, finishing the young lady’s response. “That’s okay. I just give off lesbian vibes or something, even in heels and a skirt.”

“Oh, you’re not . . . ?”

“Yeah, I am.”

“Oh, good. Some straight girls might have been offended.”

“Some, I guess,” Linda said, smiling. She didn’t quite know what to say next.
So we’re both dykes . . . want to see my L.L. Bean catalogue?
didn’t quite fit the situation.

“You’re busy. I’ll stop blathering on. I really do need to get an account started.”

“Sure. First thing I’ll need is your name.”

“Rosa,” she replied. “Rosa Martinez.”

“Is that Spanish? Where are you from?”

“I’m originally from New York. My parents are from Mexico, if that’s what you meant.”

“Cool. Do you speak Spanish?”

“No, not everyone with an ‘ez’ at the end of their name just crossed the border yesterday,” Rosa responded sharply, as if this were a sensitive issue for her. “I’m sorry,” she added. “It’s just that I hear that all the time. I really don’t speak much Spanish. My parents thought it was important for me to learn English, so that’s all they spoke in the house. Forgive me?”

There was something about the way she said “forgive me?” that made it obvious to Linda that she was flirting with her.

“Of course. You’re too cute not to forgive,” Linda said, giving it right back to her.

Medication Money

“M
s. Perry,” the young doctor at Arlington Hospital said to Shirley. “You need to carry your inhaler with you at all times. Why didn’t you have it with you today?”

“I just didn’t think about it, I guess.”

“Ms. Perry, it’s very important that you keep that inhaler with you. I’m going to write you a prescription for it just in case you can’t find yours. I’ll be right back,” the doctor said, slipping behind the curtain that was pulled around the small area where Shirley was lying. She had a few monitors attached to her.

“You
are
getting your inhaler prescription filled, aren’t you, Shirley?” Gina asked from the chair next to Shirley’s stretcher.

“Yes, Gina, I got it filled. I get it filled every month.”

“When I take you home, I want to see it.”

“Gina, sweetie, I’m not in the business of displaying my medications to the world.”

“Well, that may be, but Grandmother is also not in the business of giving you money for medicine and having you spend it on cigarettes or clothes and makeup.”

“Okay, I didn’t get it filled this month. I was running short on cash, so I had to use any extra money to pay bills.”

“God damn it, Shirley! Medicine money from Grandmother is not
extra
money. Do you have any idea how much this emergency room visit is going to cost?”

“Don’t worry about that, sweetie. Medicaid or someone will cover it. Really, Gina, what are they going to do if I don’t pay? Take away my Mercedes and my estate in McLean? Oh, no!” Shirley added sarcastically. “It might affect my credit rating.”

“I guess we’re going to have to go back to the old system, where you give me your prescriptions and I fill them for you. You know I have nothing better to do with my time than babysit you.”

“Can it, would ya? I didn’t get one lousy prescription filled. I didn’t run over a kitten with my car.”

Gina sighed and shook her head. “I’ve got to call the bank and explain this whole mess you’ve gotten me into. I’ll be right back.”

“Please let Linda answer,” Gina said to herself as she dialed the bank.

“Premier Bank of Arlington, Liz Cox speaking.”

“Hi, Liz, it’s Gina—”

“Gina, where are you? You’ve left Linda and me in quite a bind.”

I’m fine. Thanks for asking, Gina thought to herself before responding. “I’m sorry, Liz. I went for a walk with my mother during lunch, and she had a severe asthma attack. I had to take her to the emergency room. I’m at Arlington Hospital right now.”

“Oh, Gina, I’m sorry to hear that. Is she okay?”

Like you care, bitch! “She’ll be fine. When we’re done here, I’ll have to take her home. I don’t think I’ll make it back today.”