Page 18 of Sharkbait
Calliope ignores the dig—as much of a dig as you’ll get from kindhearted Mabel—and parrots back way louder than necessary, “The word genitals makesyoufeelweird.”
“Ooooooooooh.”
“Stop shuddering!” Calliope scolds. “You know what makesmefeel weird, Mabel?”
“What?”
“Showing up at my friend’s new apartment to find her hoo-hah and gazongas flapping in the breeze!”
“Oh, is it too breezy in here for you?” Mabel whips her body left and right, trying to gauge the airflow. “Hm, you may be right. I’ll turn up the A/C. It is September, after all.”
Mabel sashays to the thermostat and makes the adjustment.
At this point, I feel the need to step in and back Mabel up. I nudge Calliope. “Gazongas? Flapping? Are you sure you’re a writer, sister friend?”
“How are you so comfortable with this?” Calliope marvels.
I shrug. “Can’t say I relish the opportunity to socialize with my friends while they’re in their full naked glory, but whatever. I took a ton of figure drawing classes in college, where nude models were the norm, so I’m used to it.”
“Louise!” Mabel enthuses. “I didn’t know you’re an artist! Why did you never say something?”
“Because I’m not. Not anymore.”
“Once an artist, always an artist, isn’t that what they always say? What’s
your medium? Pencils? Paints? Pastels? Ooh! Change of plans!” Mabel squeals and claps. “I have a chez lounge thingy-ma-bobby in my mantis room! I’ll go lie down on it so you can paint me! We’ll be like Rose and Jack inTitanic!”
“No, thank you, Mabel,” I say with as much calm as I can muster. “And dare I ask what the hell is a mantis room?”
Calliope nudges me and whispers, “You don’t want to know.”
“But I’ll commission you!” Mabel pleads. “With money! I don’t expect you to work for free.”
“Mabel, no.”
“Pleeeeease, Lou? As a gift for Wally! He’ll love it!”
“I am not a painter. I do not paint anymore. Ever. For the love of God, can we please change the subject!?”
You could hear a pin drop after that.
They count on me to be the cool friend.
The reasonable friend.
The one who keeps calm under pressure.
Well, not today, apparently.
Mabel eventually breaks the silence.
“It’s because I’m naked, huh? All this tension? You’re right. I absolutely should have warned you that I’m a nudist before you came over. If you would like, I can absolutely go put on a thong and some pasties.”
“That would be astart,” Calliope says diplomatically.
“Fantastic. That’s what I’m going to do then. Back in a flash!” Mabel hustles toward what must be her bedroom. Before she’s out of sight, though, the doorbell rings, and she calls over her shoulder, “Could one of you get that? I ordered some goodies for us! #MabelUnleeeeeeashed!”
“I’ll get it!” I shout and leap for the door.
