Red Girl Rat Boy by Cynthia Flood Page B

beach. The bridge lamps were now shedding gold circles on the salty darkness.
    The men exchanged looks and snickered, snapping the Venetians down. Both spoke. At last Curly managed, “We’d both been around enough to know what we wanted. We were ready.”
    As Julie with James rode up in the air she thought how the magazines said things just like that about deciding in the right way to get married.
    â€œWhere’ve you been? You’re soaked. No umbrella again?”
    She described their pleasant walk.
    Jeremy made a face. “Queers are useless. That’s why I don’t like them.”
    â€œIs a tax accountant useless?”
    â€œWho does Fatty work for? Other queers? And what does Pretty Boy do?’
    Julie quit, though in fact Curly was the numbers guy and Sam the waiter.
    â€œWe need to get out. This isn’t what I had in mind.” He shoved a newspaper at her and stood waiting by the door into the master.
    After skimming Houses Julie studied Furnished Suites. Some buildings said Small child accepted . What size might that be? How could she pay? She perused Board & Room. Water dripped off her hair on to the baby’s smile.
    â€œNothing today.”
    The door closed. Shut out.
    Now Julie did feel changed, though she still waited greedily for Jeremy to come to bed. Sometimes he slept on the sofa.
    Time went on being.
    James grew bigger, bigger. With pain he acquired teeth. He looked about, inquiring. He shook and pulled at his playpen’s bars. Visiting the eleventh floor, he demonstrated how he would crawl soon.
    Mr. Schatz chuckled. “He reminds me.”
    Julie silently ached to ask Of whom?
    â€œToday Mr. Alexander is tired. He fights cancer,” his wife sighed. She pointed at the tiny poppyseed pastries veiled in powdered sugar. “His favourites.” For James she had baked rusks.
    â€œHe also is exile by a war,” said her husband.
    From the Schatzes’ windows, the distant Olympic Mountains shimmered aquamarine. The stereo was playing classical. Nearer, Mount Baker shone like pearl. Victoria was clouded in drifts of white, invisible.
    On leaving, Julie felt revulsion at the prospect of entering the apartment where she lived. She pressed James’s thumb on L for Lobby.
    By the mailboxes stood the bald man. He held a map.
    â€œAn impossible city,” he said. “Vancouver’s a simple place, the mountains are always north. Even New York’s mostly a grid.”
    He was Julie’s age. So thin in his sharply pressed Bermudas, paler even than bone. The map showed London, England.
    â€œAre you going there?”
    â€œParis too. New York on the way back, if I’m not arrested.” He tucked the map into a travel agent’s folder. “See the galleries one more time.”
    â€œAre you Mr. Alexander?”
    â€œGary.”
    â€œJulie. This is James.”
    â€œDear Mrs. Schatz,” he said, “always wanting to feed me. Their sadness is unbearable, but I’ll see them before I go.”
    â€œI hope you have a good time.” What else could be said?
    â€œThank you.” He inspected the baby. “Such sharp teeth! A little animal. So Julie, where are you off to?”
    After a moment she said, “I have no idea.”
    Gary’s eyebrows went up. “Better get one! Up and down, to and fro, then suddenly it’s all over.”
    They shook hands warmly.
    Soon after this, Jeremy began again about the oral contraceptive.
    â€œYou have to. We can’t risk it. I insist.”
    Three things just like that with no breath between.
    â€œYou know it makes me sick.” In disbelief she heard the shaking voice.
    â€œThen I won’t have sex with you.”
    After that there was only the morning dialogue before he departed for office or court.
    â€œWill you?”
    â€œNo.” Again, again. “ No. ” Julie gripped James so he howled and shoved his head into her armpit.
    In the