GINNY BATES: BJ

Here's another installment of my Great American Lesbian Novel (in progress), Ginny Bates. If you are new to reading GB, go to the section in the right-hand column labeled Ginny Bates to read background and find out how to catch up.

Tuesday, December 3, 2019

The next morning, Myra woke up when Chris got out of bed, mostly because of the effort it seemed to be taking Chris to stand and dress. She murmured groggily “You need help?”

“No. Go back to sleep.”

But she plainly heard the toilet flush two rooms away, and Margie's conversation with Chris. Ginny joined them and they discussed what to make for breakfast. Myra gave up, using the bathroom herself. She got a bowl of the oatmeal that they were eating, topped it with a fried egg, and sat down on the fourth side of the table.


“Were you warm enough?” she asked Ginny.

“Yes, but I have a headache. I think it's the dry heat. Or maybe wood smoke, although the air filters seem to be handling most of it” said Ginny. “When did you switch beds?”

“I don't know” said Myra.

“2 a.m.” supplied Chris. “I had a nightmare” she offered Ginny.

Ginny shrugged as if it didn't matter. She wasn't fooling anyone.

“Listen, before we head into town, I need some time by the creek” said Chris. She said to Margie “You want to drive me there? It's within walking distance for the hale and fit.”

“Love to” said Margie. She did look excited.

Chris took her buffalo robe with her. After they left, Myra said “You want to bathe first, or shall I?”

“Why don't you bathe and I'll come sit on the toilet to talk with you” said Ginny.

“In that case, let's reverse it, I'd rather have solitude while I bathe” said Myra. They left the door open, and Ginny scooted down in the tub as far as she could.

“Should I have woke you up?” said Myra. “Actually, that implies some kind of premeditation on my part that didn't exist. We got into bed to talk and I started dropping off.”

Ginny picked up the shampoo bottle, then decided against wetting her hair. “I've been thinking about something. I worked on it with Nancy, and I'm pretty sure it's the right decision to make.”

Myra was almost too tired to feel nervous.

Ginny slid back into the hot water, her chin grazing the surface but her eyes on Myra. “If you want to make love with Chris, you have my okay. Or kissing her. I – I know you've told me that's not what you two are about, but things may change and – I can handle it.”

Myra closed her eyes, not quite able to process this. She took a couple of breaths and looked at Ginny again.

“You said you worked on this with Nancy? It's not a test of any kind, then.”

“No, Myra.”

“Is it because she's dying, and you know nothing long-term can come of it?” said Myra. “I have to ask.”

“I asked myself the same question. I can't be sure, but I really think not. I think – mostly, I don't want to be someone who keeps you from that, if it's what you want. I love you too much to ask you not to go there. I trust you both.”

Myra saw tiny ripples in the water and thought Ginny must be trembling.

“I'm not who she wants, Ginny. Not that way.”

“Well...it still stands. Just talk to me, keep talking to me.”

“Of course I'm going to talk to you, Ginny. I feel like you and I are joined at the hip right now, in a functional way, I mean.”

They looked at each other a minute more before Ginny sat up and began soaping herself.

“Ginny...I felt something on her belly. Something that wasn't a scar” said Myra.

“Like what, tumor?” said Ginny, coming to a halt.

“Maybe. It was hard and had a curve to it.” Myra leaned forward and put her head in her hands.

“Did you mention it to her?”

“No. I figured since she's seeing the doctor today, and she's asked us to be in the room with her, it'll be better then. Am I being chicken?”

Ginny said “You're the very definition of courage these days. Is there any way she can have missed feeling it herself?”

“No.”

“Then she's not told you, Myra. Maybe she's waiting for the doctor visit, too.” Ginny resumed washing. “I need to tell you something, too. I woke up with a painting in my head.”

“Well...” Myra trailed off.

“Yeah, her family is coming for dinner and I bet a late night, and Margie's staying over, not sure whether the futon again or her motel. Tomorrow Allie and Edwina plan to come, midday. I don't see how to fit it in, but I get weird on you when I repress a painting so I wanted to let you know.”

“Ginny, plan to start it tomorrow morning. Today you can stretch the canvas and Gesso it. Allie and Edwina will be fine with you painting, and I'll have their help tomorrow. Will it fray your nerves to wait 24 hours?”

“Some, but not like outright denial. You sure, Myra?”

“Hell, yes. I want us to be as normal as we can here.”

“I don't get a bad vibe from this cabin. Have you picked up any of your, you know, manifestations?” Ginny grinned, though she wasn't entirely joking.

“Nope. The paint job helped, no doubt. And Chris's girl heart seems to have overridden the horrors she lived through here. At least, so far. Listen, I'm going to do the dishes. When you're done, will you start me a fresh tub?”

“Gimme a kiss” asked Ginny.

Myra leaned down, whispering “You are my absolute heart's desire. Always.”

When Ginny came to her later to say her bath was running, Myra said “Have you discussed your quote permission unquote with anyone else? Like Margie, or Edwina?”

“God no. Edwina would pass out, and Margie – I think for all her next-generation cool about polyamory, she counts on us being old school, don't you?”

“Yeah” said Myra with a chuckle. “I left the oatmeal pan for you, since you never remember to butter it first. It's like Sakrete in there.”

“I smell bacon” said Ginny.

“Yeah, I decided I needed extra protein. I left some in the oven for Chris, I bet she comes back hungry from being out in this weather.” She heard Ginny mutter under her breath about feeding hunger with healthy food, but she kept going toward the sound of running water.

After she dressed, she checked e-mail while Ginny stretched her canvas. Ginny was just finishing when Margie and Chris returned, both of them red-cheeked and blowing clouds of breath. “I walked up the creek in the other direction, toward the river” said Margie. “It's stunningly beautiful.” She raised her eyebrows twice at her mothers, out of Chris's sight.

“Do you want a bath?” Myra asked Chris. “Those new handrails are sturdy, I tried 'em out.”

“I'm just going for a lick and a promise” said Chris. “We need to leave in half an hour, I want to try a shop Tina mentioned might have real pemmican.”

Chris's folding wheelchair was still in the back of the jeep. They made a short detour on the way to show Ginny and Margie where Myra and Chris had come on their fishing weekends, and stopped in Kettle Falls to shop at the natural foods store there. They stored cold items in the cooler, deciding they didn't actually need to buy ice if they were going to be out of the car for a while.

Chris found her pemmican, at a touristy shop run by an Umatilla woman who knew Ricky. There was no list of ingredients on the label, and Myra said “What's in this? Any way we could make our own?”

Chris grinned at her. “Nope. It's fresh buffalo, dried outside on racks in the summer, and huckleberries. Plus a few other things.” Myra doubled the quantity Chris put on the counter.

They ate lunch at Stephanie's Grill in Colville because they didn't have time to go to Lovitt's and everything else in sight looked like fast food. Ginny said the creamy crab, shrimp and artichoke melt sandwich was good and the clam chowder was acceptable. Myra ordered the sirloin and wasn't sorry.

Margie had brought her laptop and asked to be dropped at a cafe with internet access to “deal with business issues and calls” while Chris went to her doctor visit. After Chris filled out pages of forms, she walked back into the clinic with Myra at her side to get x-rays and have blood drawn. Ginny was checking her cell phone messages because they had access here, and Myra asked her to check her messages as well, handing over her notebook and saying “Write everything down on a fresh page.”

When Chris and Myra returned to the waiting room, a woman their age who had been sitting there earlier turned to watch Chris cross the room. As they sat down, she leaned forward and said “Excuse me. Are you Christina Kash?”

Chris gave an almost inaudible sigh and said “Yes.” She was staring at the woman, who was white with hair clearly dyed black.

“Well, can you believe it. It's Eunice, used to be Eunice Moore” said the woman.

“My god” said Chris. “I haven't seen you – well, since graduation, I guess.”

“I heard you lived in Seattle, have you moved back, then?” said the woman, moving to sit closer.

Chris hesitated, and Myra said “We're staying for a while. Hi, we're her friends”, introducing herself and Ginny.

“Me and Christina went though 12 grades of school together, didn't we?” said Eunice. She immediately launched into reminiscence. For some reason, Chris remained tense, and Myra kept trying to decode what was going on. Eventually, Eunice said “I'm here with my daughter, my second oldest. She's got breast cancer.” This last bit was said in a whisper. “Mastectomy and they think they got it all, but I'm still worried sick, you understand.”

“I certainly do” said Chris, with an undercurrent of humor in her voice. When she didn't offer an explanation for her own presence in the waiting room, Eunice rolled right on and asked.

“I have cancer. Several kinds. Terminal” said Chris, with at last a familiar grin. Not a good grin, but familiar.

It stopped Eunice for at least 30 seconds. She put her hand on Chris's arm and finally said “I am so sorry. Are you here, then – are you staying with family? I mean, Garnet is dead -- “

“I know Garnet is dead” said Chris. “I buried her. I am visiting her children, but I'm here with my current family, these women. We have children and grandchildren back in Seattle.”

Eunice was memorizing everything, Myra could tell. “I'd heard you were – is one of you, then, her – partner?”

“My partner isn't here” said Chris. “How many times have you been married now, Eunice? The first time was right after graduation, had to, with Tommy Whitlaw, right?”

Eunice had the grace to laugh. “That sorry snake. Yes, and I've been stupid enough to say yes twice more. I'm done with all that. I heard you wrote a book, about your people? And do some kind of political stuff there in Seattle?”

“Radical activist” said Chris, playing it up. “I published a Nimipu dictionary, yes.” She turned to Myra. “Eunice gave me my first line of coke, back before it was fashionable. Mostly our crowd did speed, all we could afford. And any kind of liquor we could get our hands on, right?”

Myra was kept from seeing how Eunice would handle this by the emergence of a 40-something woman from the clinic, who was quickly introduced as Eunice's daughter. Eunice stood and said “I'll pray to Jesus for you tonight, and listen, give me a call, I'm in the book under Eunice Carmody now.”

“Take care” said Chris. As soon as Eunice and her daughter were gone, Chris said in a conversational tone “Her nickname in high school was BJ. I didn't do that, not for any amount of money or drugs. And Tommy Whitlaw was not the father of her first child, everybody knew his testicles had never descended. But he was religious enough to let guilt convince him he had to marry her.”

Myra could tell Ginny was trying to figure out the significance of BJ – not a term she'd heard as a teenager, apparently. Or since. “Margie's going to be sorry she missed this encounter” said Myra, grinning at Chris.

“I bet she'll have other opportunities” said Chris. “Eunice will be on the phone all afternoon with her news, my whole class be looking for me now.”

As they went back to the exam room, Myra leaned over and whispered to Ginny “blow job”. She heard Chris's giggle.

The oncologist was a man, Dr. Jhadav, who'd been raised in India and who was formal but still deeply empathetic and unhurried. He had reviewed Chris's records. She said “I'm here to make sure I get to stay home to the bitter end. I can pay for home nursing, and these women are competent to make decisions for me when that time comes.”

“I see your Advanced Directive” Dr. Jhadav said. “Let's do an exam first, then we can talk more.” He left the room while Chris got into a gown. When he returned, she said “I don't want a rectal. I'm not having chalky or black stools, but I'm not completely digesting my food, either.”

“Will you take home a hemoccult and let us check that, then?” he asked, unbuttoning her gown deferentially.

“Yes. But I'm not having more surgery. Not even for an obstruction” she said.

“All right.” When he looked at her front, his gloved hand immediately went to the wide hard curve visible there. “Your liver is massively enlarged” he said.

“I know” said Chris. “It has been for about ten days.”

“Is it tender?” he asked, pressing on it gently. She winced and said “More and more.”

He pulled out a penlight and lifted her eyelid. “Icterus. Is this new, too?”

“Yes, about the same time frame.”

Ginny, standing behind Myra, put her hand on Myra's shoulder.

“What about diarrhea, nausea? How is your appetite?” he asked, continuing to examine her.

“One episode of diarrhea. No nausea, at least not like I had with chemo. I get hungry and eat normally” she said. “So far.”

“Are you sleepy? Are you getting confused sometimes?”

“I'm actually waking up often, like every three to four hours. Takes me half an hour to get back to sleep. I do nap when I'm tired. I'm getting tired pretty easy. I don't think I'm confused, but you can ask my friends here” said Chris, nodding at Myra and Ginny. Dr. Jhadav turned to look at them, and Myra said “Clear as a bell.”

He left the room again after the exam for Chris to get dressed before talking. He returned with x-rays which he put on a lightbox and invited them all to look.

“No lung infiltrates, which is good. The hepatomegaly is here. Lots of material in loops of bowel, high air fluid levels.”

He turned off the lightbox and sat down. “I'm sure you're aware of what I need to go over with you, but as a responsible physician, I have to hear for myself you are informed of your likely course and consequences.”

The conversation that was followed covered no new ground, but his manner was somehow reassuring. Myra found herself trusting him, and more importantly, it was clear from Chris's face that she did. He recommended several home care nurses, and Ginny wrote down their names. Chris said “Of those, can you tell me if any of them are Native American?”

He didn't blink. He looked at Ginny's pad and pointed to two names.

“Well, to go one step further – I'm a lesbian, and my friends and family have several gay people in it. Are either of those two the kind of folks who will have moral objections to being around us?”

He didn't smile, but he didn't tense either. He said “I can personally recommend Bernetta Fredrik.” Ginny put a star by her name.

Chris introduced Ginny as the person who would be ordering medications and administering them at times. He turned to the nurse who had come in during the exam and remained, saying “Let's make sure she meets the on-call nurse and the pharmacy tech before they leave.”

Chris had a few questions, but none of them were “How long do I have?” He handed her a sheaf of prescriptions and a few print-outs, shook her hand, and gave her his card with an emergency contact number on it before leaving.

“He's a good guy, isn't he?” Myra said to the nurse.

“He's who I'd go to” said the nurse. She led them back through the clinic for more introductions. Chris was moving slower and slower. Finally Myra said “Sit down, kiddo. I'm going to get the wheelchair.”

“We have one here you can borrow” said the nurse, bustling off and returning with one. “Bring it to the front desk when you're done.” Chris sat down heavily and said “Do I get a lollipop now?”

As they waited for Chris's prescriptions to be filled, Ginny called the number of Bernetta Fredrik and left a message. She asked the pharmacy tech where they could get meds when the clinic was closed, and was assured the scrips would be called in to a local chain that was open 24 hours. By the time they got to the jeep, Chris looked pale and exhausted. Margie leaped out to help her into the back seat and insisted on returning the wheelchair herself at a run.

“There's a pillow near the cooler, you can lean that seat back and check out” said Ginny.

Chris complied, pulling the robe to her chin although Myra had the car running and the heater on full blast. By the time Margie returned, Chris looked asleep. Margie leaned forward to get a whispered account of the visit while Myra drove them back to the cabin.

At home, Margie walked in with Chris leaning on her while Myra and Ginny hauled in groceries. Ginny began making a marinade for the local wild salmon they'd bought. Margie came out of Chris's bedroom and shut the door, saying “She's going to keep sleeping but says to wake her up half an hour before her family's due to arrive.”

Myra sent a quick e-mail to Allie about the doctor visit before joining Ginny and Margie in the kitchen. They kept their voices to a whisper as they made dinner together. Margie hauled in more wood and by the time she went to awaken Chris, the only dinner prep remaining was to put the salmon under the broiler.

Tina and Ricky arrived together in Ricky's pick-up, with Tina's two children behind the front seat. Tina looked like their mother Garnet, who hadn't resembled Chris much at all – she was slender, despite being over 30 and having had two children, with a perm in her black hair. Ricky was massive in all respects, and he had the Kash-Kash square face, large eyes, and thick eyebrows. He was the oldest of Garnet's children, Tina the youngest.

They were both visibly shocked at Chris's appearance, despite have seen her a month earlier. Tina shoved her kids toward Chris and told them to give her a kiss. The oldest, a boy called Jimjim, obeyed in a perfunctory way but immediately zoomed around to pull at Myra's laptop on the shelf under the table. Tina tiredly told him to “leave that alone” and he absolutely ignored her. Myra picked it up and carried it to the top shelf of her closet. He was on her heels, but shifted direction when he saw Ginny's easel tucked into the corner and began trying to drag it behind him into the living room. Myra took it away and said firmly “No touching things in this room.” She pushed him out in front of her and shut the door, but she had a strong sense he hadn't really registered her statement.

The other child was a 3-year-old girl named Ruby. She balked at going to Chris, hanging onto the leg of Tina's pantsuit. Myra hadn't seen her in over a year and she was all but bowled over by how much Ruby resembled the photos of Chris as a little girl. Ruby remained as quiet and passive as Jimjim was manic.

Tina had brought a casserole. She was rattling off the recipe to Ginny in the kitchen, “I buy that good white meat chicken in a can, you know, Swanson's? And I mix that with cream of mushroom soup only I used skim milk, plus a cup of shredded box cheese and a package of those fancy cut frozen green beans, julienned, they call it. I bake it 20 minutes and then the last 10 minutes I pour on a can of French's fried onion rings. It's the only way I can get the kids to eat vegetables, in casseroles like this.”

“Bach's cheese?” asked Ginny. “Is that some region in Germany?”

Tina looked at her confused. Myra said “Box, B-O-X, Ginny. Like Velveeta.”

“Oh, of course” said Ginny. “Should I heat it up for you?”

“The microwave will do” said Tina. Margie was setting the table while Ricky talked with Chris and Jimjim did god knows what. Since there were only four chairs for the dining table, Tina rolled Chris's wheelchair to one end and Ricky carried in Chris's armchair to the other end. During this movement, Myra whispered to Ginny “She's a single mother who works full time, you take a generous helping of that casserole and rave about it.”

Ginny gave her a scathing look. “As if you need to tell me that.”

Myra had made extra mashed potatoes which all disappeared, along with her cornbread and baked beans. Margie's salad was only half eaten. Dessert was a choice of baked apples or brownies, and the children were allowed to help themselves to the brownies. Ginny lifted the platter to the top of the refrigerator when Tina wasn't looking, winking at Ricky and whispering “Save some for the big folks.”

During the meal, Chris told stories about living in this house as a child, focused more on memories of Garnet and judiciously edited from the versions she had told the prior night. Tina seemed ravenous for this kind of family history. At one point, Tina said “Mom said things were so different once you all moved into town, that Granddad's spirit was diminished, being away from the outdoors. I wish Jimjim could live in the country, too, it would do him good. We named him after Granddad, you know.”

Margie's eyes were wide as she turned to Chris, waiting for her reply. Chris said “Moving back into community did make some changes in my father, but not all of them were negative.” Ricky grinned, and Myra realized he was more savvy than Tina about the real family legacy. Of course, Ricky had smelled strongly of alcohol since their arrival.

Tina went on “Russell, my ex, you know, he's thinking about moving back to Colville. We've been talking on the phone. If he was willing, I'd give us another try.”

Ricky said “For fuck's sake, you must be nuts, he's a wastoid.”

“The kids need a father” said Tina defensively. “I need help.”

“He won't be any help, he never was, he'd just be a third kid” said Ricky. He announced this as Tina and Margie were clearing the table and he leaned back in his chair to give them access to his plate.

A couple of minutes later, as Ginny was insisting on doing the dishes, Ricky said “I'm going outside for a smoke.” Jimjim tried to go with him but Ricky said “Too cold out here for you, bud.” Myra heard the door of his truck slam a minute later.

Tina said to Chris “Let's set them up in one of the bedrooms with the TV and they'll calm down so we can talk.” Ruby doesn't need calming down thought Myra.

“Uh, we don't have a TV here” said Chris.

Tina looked stunned. “Oh...I'm not sure, maybe – I didn't bring anything with me...”

“We have children's books” offered Myra. “Or puzzles.”

“They don't read” said Tina. “Well, Ruby looks at pictures. I guess we could try a puzzle.”

“I'll hang out with them” offered Margie. At that moment, the phone rang, and Myra, closest to it, answered to hear Gillam's voice saying “Hey, Mama. I wanted to hear how the doctor visit went, but the kids have been clamoring to skype with ya'll all evening, are you through with dinner?”

“We are, but we have company, Chris's family is here, it's not a good time to skype” said Myra. Gillam was saying “Oh, then we'll catch you tomorrow, I guess --” and Myra could hear the loud protests beginning around him, when Chris cut through by calling to her “Tell him yes, I'd love for his kids to meet Tina's.”

“Gillam, never mind, Chris says let's do it. Give us five minutes to get set up and we'll dial in to your number.”

“Great. See you in a jiff.”

Margie put her laptop next to Myra's on the dining table, facing into the living room, and linked them together so the screens would make a single image. She had to deal nonstop with Jimjim trying to unplug cables and fiddle with knobs. Ruby had finally eased over to Chris's chair and was now leaning against her, turning to look silently into her face at times. As Margie dialed Gillam's number through their internet account, Ricky came back in smelling of cigarette smoke and whiskey.

“What're we watching?” he said, plopping down on the floor in front of the sliding doors.

As Chris explained, the connection went through and they could hear Mimi yelling “Bubbe? Gramma? Where are they, it says -- “

“Hi” said Gillam, leaning past Mimi to show his face. “Look, there's Aunt Chris.”

“We're all here” said Myra, coming around to sit on the end of the couch. Ginny and Margie moved into view at the other end.

“Who are those kids?” said David possessively.

“I'm their Aunt Chris, too” said Chris. She made introductions. Jimjim gave up trying to mess with the computers and came to sit on his mother's lap, going still and silent for the first time since they had arrived.

“We want to sing our anfem wif you” said Charlie. “Will you dance wif us?”

“There's not really room here for us to dance” said Ginny, “It's a very small house. But we'll sing along, and you all dance, okay?”

Gillam backed them away from the camera so they could be seen, and they launched into the Golden Horde song. By the end, Ricky and Tina were both in hysterics. Chris asked for an encore, and even Ruby came in on a couple of words – bugger and fart, of course – when they did it a third time.

Gillam began trying to bring the call to a close, but suddenly Lucia's face filled the screen, her hands grasping the computer monitor on either side. She never reacted to cameras in the same way she did to direct gaze from human eyes, and it was startling to see her staring at them without avoidance.

“Chris?” she said, pronouncing it with two syllables like Myra did. “Chris, will you sing me dat song?”

Chris didn't hesitate. She leaned forward and began singing in Nimipu, softly but clearly. Tina and Ricky both froze. Lucia's face registered a range of emotions, something Myra couldn't remember have seen her do since she was a few months old. She fought weeping. At the end, Lucia said “Okay” and vanished to the side. Gillam reappeared, his voice thick with emotion, and said “I'll call you tomorrow on my lunch break, Mom, to get more info. Nice to meet you all.”

When the screen went dark, Jimjim stood up and said “I want to watch something else.”

Ginny had turned to Margie and was murmuring “Please tell me you taped that call.”

“I did” said Margie.

“Well, speaking of tapes, I have lots of family videos on my hard drive or retrievable from my online briefcase” said Myra. “How about if I queue up ones that have your Aunt Chris in them and you can go on watching home movies?”

Tina nodded vigorously. During the five minutes it took Myra to get this accomplished, Jimjim's restlessness returned. Tina said to Chris “They put him in special ed right away this year, but I won't let them give him drugs. This family has enough history with drugs.”

There was a small electric silence, broken by Chris's laugh. Ginny said “I was a special ed teacher way back when, and Gillam is now. I agree with you, medications are not the only way to go.”

Tina said “Thank you, I wish you'd come talk to his teacher about that.” But she didn't ask what alternatives Ginny might suggest.

Lucky, lucky, lucky thought Myra, at her laptop. We have been so lucky.

The first video Myra played was Chris's performance as Craven Raven in the grandkid's puppet show. Conversation was abandoned in favor of viewing, although Myra did pause between each video to allow Chris time for remarks or explanation. She noticed Ricky kept his trips out to his truck to a minimum. When both children began showing signs of fatigue – Ruby by drooping eyelids, Jimjim by frantic fidgeting – Tina said “We should get them home. But this was so good.”

“We play poker on Friday nights after dinner” said Chris. “Come back and Myra can make her famous chicken-fried steak.”

“For cash money?” said Ricky. Myra assumed he meant the poker.

“We use chips but yeah, we buy in and then settle up at the end of the night” said Chris with a wide grin.

“You're on” he said. Tina nodded as well, saying “I won't have time to cook -- “

“Bring ice cream from the store” said Chris. “Peach, I've been longing for peach.” Tina's face lit up. Myra walked out with them to Ricky's truck, trying to assess if he was really safe to drive. At least it's not icy out tonight she thought.

When she went back in the house, Chris was crying quietly, Ginny hugging her from behind and Margie at her feet. Myra sat down on the couch across from Chris, noting how completely fatigued she looked.

“They didn't ask one question about the doctor visit” Chris said finally.

“They're overwhelmed” said Myra. “Nothing about how they love you.”

“I know that. But Ruby...” Chris cried another couple of minutes, then began wiping her face on her sleeve. “I need to go sit on the pot and it'll be a while, if you need to go, do it now.”

Ginny scuttled to the bathroom. Margie said “I want to stay here again tonight, is that okay?”

“Of course” said Myra. Chris said to Margie “You want to sleep with me? No DVD's, though.”

Margie jumped at it. Myra took a quick piss after Ginny and brushed her teeth before turning over the bathroom to Chris, who closed the door. Myra said quietly to Margie “You'll get her into bed okay? If you need me, come wake me.”

It was bliss to lie down with Ginny, feel Ginny's warmth press against her from behind, and whisper to each other in the dark.

Ginny said “If Chris didn't do blow jobs, what was her preference as a prostitute, I wonder? Hand jobs?”

“I...I have a guess, but I don't want to say” said Myra.

After a long silence, Ginny said “That casserole was okay.”

“A region in Germany” teased Myra, and they went off into muffled giggles.


© 2009 Maggie Jochild.