Girls' Day Out (A Short Story)

Can you believe this traffic Margie?
Take a right there and we can take a short cut up that way.
I don’t know that area.
I do Sue…just turn up here and I’ll show you.

Sue wailed on her horn. Everyone in front of her wailed on their horns and the people behind her began to wail as well. There was an accident a mile down the road. A man opened his glove compartment to look for a tissue, ran the absolute tail of a yellow light and a mother rushing her son and his two friends to soccer slammed into him. Spencer had been standing up in the middle of the mini-van entertaining the Charlie and PJ with a story and flew forward into and through the windshield while Mandy, secured behind her seatbelt, pushed her entire body into the break pedal. After the ambulance and two cop cars arrived Mandy, Charlie, PJ, and Rick were all examined and reported to be physically fine. After breaking through the window of the mini-van Spencer slammed head first against the door of the sedan and his neck snapped. The ambulance and EMT persons served a transport to the hospital. A police report was filed, insurance information was exchanged, Spencer and Charlie’s parents were phoned, and a road crew was called in to clean up the mess.

Wait till you see this house up here on the right…don’t you love those curtains?
Which ones—Oh! Those are darling! The yellow, right?
Yes. I just love them—the houses up this way are so cute and nicely kept.
I don’t like that one.

Sue pointed to a big purple house with yellow columns and gargoyles at the entrance.

Me either, but I think it’s kind of funny having it on the block.
There’s nothing funny about an ugly house. If I lived on this street I’d have it demolished or get a petition going for them to re-paint it to look not so god-damned hideous.
OK. Left here.
Thank God we’re out of that damn traffic.
You can say that again.
I could sure use a cup of coffee. I haven’t really eaten all day.
Well do you want to stop for a snack up here, there’s a quaint little street where they sell little knick knacks and all that. There’s an adorable truffle shop and this homey cutesy coffee place I just adore—and I haven’t been there for almost ever.
Well I have to get this gift for Lizzie’s shower, but we can stop off for a moment. I don’t really feel like cooking dinner—damnit I’ve got that chicken thawing on the counter. Oh whatever, let’s just stop and have a little something. Do they have muffins?
Yes. And their scones are so good…the last time I was there the baker wrote out the recipe for me.
Ok.
Take a right, left at the stop sign, and then right at the light.

Sue turned the corner and parked in the first available spot.

That was lucky.
Where’s this place?
It’s at the other end of the block. It’s called Jaime’s Nest. Jaime is a woman. I think she and her husband own it together.
OooOOoo! Let’s stop in this little jewelry shop.

Good afternoon ladies. What can I help you with today?
Oh nothing really.
We don’t need anything. I’ve just never been on this street before…and we’re having a girl’s day so we’re checking out the shops.
Let me know if you need anything. Over here is forty-percent off.
Are chokers still in fashion Margie?
I don’t think so, but a lot of things on this street are Victorian looking. I think it’s a neighborhood theme.
I can’t believe I’ve never been here before. I love Victorian things.

The saleswoman took it as a good sign that the women hadn’t gone directly to the Sale table.

Would you ladies like to see something special? This collection is new.
Sure.
Of course!

Sue and Maggie walked over to the counter as the sales woman exited behind a navy velvet curtain. She returned with—
What a beautiful tiara! I had one of those when I was a little girl. My father bought it for me and I used to wear it everywhere.
You are too much Sue…my Becky wore one for her dance recital last year, but it was plastic. It came with the costume.
Oh let me hold it. Isn’t that darling?
Those are real crystals. Real silver. Look at the fine weaving and careful craftsmanship.

Sue and Maggie saw the sticker on the back. It said Made in Taiwan. Well I don’t have any use for a tiara now.
Never did, never will.
You getting anything here?
Not that I see.
Me either—Thanks so much!
Yes, thank you.
We’re off.

Sue glanced back at her car, then walked over and tugged on the handle. Maggie followed behind.

You ready to go already Sue?
No, just checking to make sure I locked the darn thing—do those look like storm clouds Margie?They sure do Sue.
We’d better get down to your little café before that thing starts spraying.

The women walked along the street pressing their purses between their waists and their arms. They passed a French restaurant, a music store, two card shops, and—
What is this place?
It’s an art gallery…I think.
Are those—

Dead bodies were hanging from the ceiling and encircling a pile of dead children amassed at the center of the concrete floor. Not only were—

They’re puking on each other!

But they were also—

Having sex!

With animals…in their eye sockets. A naked woman stood pissing on the pile of children, some of whom were puking and some of whom were fucking puppy dogs in the face and some of whom were fucking puppy dogs or cat skulls while throwing up. Instead of nipples two large curved cocks grew out of the woman’s breasts. She appeared to be screaming and tearing a giant technicolor American flag into halves. She had enormous purple dread locks rising out of her skull like great rivers that leapt down all over and grew around the ethnically diverse dead children, across the concrete, up along the walls, over the ceiling and down wrapped around the necks of four dickless, faceless hanged men. In place of their genitals and countenances were red fleshy craters. The figures arms and feet were bound with purple hair. A message was painted across the glass façade in white paint. RAPE MURDERS LIFE A puddle of urine surrounded the pile of bodies and four puddles of blood could be seen, one beneath each of the well hung men.

I don’t believe this…this, this—THIS! This is disgusting—and wrong!
Sue I think it’s just art.
That is not art. That is sickening and vile, no one should have to see that. We’re leaving.

Sue grabbed Maggie’s arm and led her away down the street.

I can’t believe that the people in this neighborhood would want something like that right there in the middle of everything.

There were several other couples casually strolling the street.

Maybe they don’t mind it? It is there after all.
Well maybe these are tolerant people. I definitely will not be moving into an area like this…certainly not this one.
I’m so sorry that upset you Sue. Let’s just go in here and get a nice cup of tea and forget all about that. We can cross the street and walk back to the car the other way…or better yet, we can go back a block and walk through the residential area.
I don’t have time for that. Besides the houses will probably just be lined in gargoyles or some stupid Halloween decorations.
You’re right Sue. The lawns are probably strewn with used tampons.

This made Sue laugh. Margie held the door for her as they entered—

Oh my—how lovely! How perfectly adorable, Jaime’s Nest you said?
Yes.
Here we are—Let’s sit at the table by the fire.
Great idea.
Let’s see…wow look at all the pastries in here—oh those muffins look divine. And they have carrot cake, my favorite-est!
Hi Girls!

A short, short haired woman rose up from behind the counter. She wore a long sleeved tie dye T-shirt under an apron. A popular Sunday comic was screen printed on the apron. It was a simple sketch. There was a rectangle. Above the rectangle was the title of the comic: Lake Michigan. Inside the rectangle was a concave shape and in angled print the words Made in China were scrawled across the X-Ray view of the lake’s bottom.

What can I serve up for you ladies?
I have the most darling apron at home—I really only wear it in the fall. But it has a great turkey in the foreground and this Pilgrim behind him saying “Nice legs!” And the turkey’s eyes are bulging and his eyebrows are raised. It’s too cute.
All my good aprons have winter themes. I can hardly stand to wear an apron let alone cook this time of year. It’s too hot.
Do you ladies need a little more time?
No we’re just gabbing it up—girls’ day, you know…
Of course, well, you’ve come to the perfect spot. Everything is baked fresh daily. And we have fresh coffee. Mochas. Espresso. Fresh brewed Iced tea. Whatever you’d like.

Just then Sue saw a photograph of a young man in uniform held against the fridge behind a yellow ribbon magnet.

Forgive me, but do you know that young man in the picture?
I do indeed. He’s my son.
That’s what I thought.
God bless him and God bless you.
Well thank you for asking and for the kind words. We miss him so much.
How long has he been overseas if you don’t mind my asking? I have three children of my own; five, eight, and eleven.
He was away almost two years. And he’s been gone now almost three, certainly got us hippie blooded atheists thinking about some kind of god…that one’s probably more accessible than the ones we should really be mad at.
Oh my. I’m so sorry.
It’s all right. We keep the picture up because we want to remember him. I don’t mind talking about—

The short woman bulked, her eyes bloomed with tears, she sucked in a quick breath, pulled out a handkerchief and snatched away the tiny blobs of salt water. She exhaled and smiled.

Kids are rebellious. They don’t get it. Who knows? Maybe he wouldn’t have joined if his parents weren’t so enthused by anti-establishment memorabilia…
Well I think this is a fine establishment and I would love a cup of hot coffee and a vanilla cranberry muffin.
Of course…and for you dear?
I’ll have a lemon scone and a hot coffee.
You ladies have a seat and I’ll bring it all over.

The short woman started setting things up behind the counter and Margie and Sue plopped down in the giant soft armchairs beside the fireplace and dropped their purses beside them.

Boy oh boy…what a day it’s been.
I know, I thought we were home free after getting out of that blasted traffic.
Well we’ll feel better after something to eat Sue.
I hope so. I feel terrible about bringing up that poor woman’s son.
She didn’t mind.
If she did she hid it well—at least it got me to stop thinking about all that disturbing garbage.
I think that’s kind of the point of that kind of art Sue.
Art to upset people? Art to give people nightmares?
Well no, but I’ve read that making art about a traumatic experience helps people to move forward and away from it.
Where did you read that?
In a women’s magazine.
Well my mother’s dead and I never painted a picture of it.
OK ladies.

The short haired woman placed two giant mugs of coffee on the table between Sue and Margie. Then she set down a plated muffin, a plated scone, cream, and sugar.

Will there be anything else? A glass of water perhaps.
I’m all right.
I’ll have a glass.
OK, make it two.
Be right back ladies.
See—this is art.

Sue held up a mug depicting Van Gough’s sunflowers.

I love this mug. It makes me happy. It’s pretty and friendly and there’s nothing strange about it.
Van Gough was a pretty crazy guy you know…I read about him. He was a vagabond, a hermit, and a stalker.
Oh I don’t care about all that. None of it matters, just look at the lovely flowers—what’s on yours?

Margie turned her mug around towards Sue. There was a shiatsu dressed in a sailor’s jacket and cap balancing on his hind legs on a rainbow beach ball.

Well that’s just adorable—Sue laughed—And it makes me laugh!

The short haired woman set two glasses of water on the table and walked away. Sue and Margie stopped conversing and took their plates and set them on their laps. They sat in silence eating their snacks and watching the predictable flames of the gas fire. Just then a very short woman with pale skin and slim eyes wearing an all white pantsuit slipped inside the nest. She walked over towards the women.
Excuse? Someone say two lady come down to here? You the women stand outside my space—yes?
Excuse me?
You want to come see? I show you. You buy old paintings.
No, no—What’s she talking about Margie?
I think she thinks we were someone who wanted to buy art from that gallery.
That crap—hah!

Sue turned away to show she was ignoring the conversation.

I’m sorry. I think you were waiting for someone else. We don’t buy art.

Sue decided to rejoin the conversation saying—

Oh we buy art, but we don’t buy garbage. We throw it out.
Excuse? A lady call today. She say two womens come to buy paintings.
I’m sorry that was not us.
OK. So sorry. So sorry. You enjoy. So sorry.

The small woman left.

I hope that’s not her art. I would never expect that out of such a tiny person—you know what? I can’t talk about it anymore.
It’s fine Sue.
Let’s finish this coffee and get out of here.

The women returned to the counter and paid the bill. They said nothing more about the woman’s dead son. The short haired woman said thank you and Maggie and Sue left.

Looks like that cloud just passed right over.
That’s nice for us.
Yeah, I get worried driving in the rain. I’m so afraid I’ll have an accident.
Do you want to cross the street Sue?
No, let’s just walk fast and ignore it.

And just as the women walked past the gallery some action inside demanded their attention. The tiny pale woman in the white pantsuit was hopping in place on the other side of the the words RAPE MURDERS LIFE waving and smiling. They couldn’t help but look. Then they couldn’t help but laugh.

If that isn’t a ridiculous sight I don’t know what is.

The tiny woman came to the door.

You lady want to come in? See my painting?

We can’t. And we won’t!

Sue gestured to the pile of children mounted by the naked woman.

This is a disgrace!

OK…OK…You think is scary. OK…you come, I show you pretty…so beautiful you be happy again. Come see now.
What do you think Sue?
You cover face—cover eyes! Follow—I show you!
Oh Lord—oh fine let’s just get it over with.

Sue put her hands over her eyes and took Margie’s hand who followed the woman into the back room. She turned on the light that pointed at a giant canvas hung on the wall. Sue opened her eyes and looked at the painting.

Is that a mother and child?
Yes. Mother and son.
Did you paint this?
It not mine. Young lady. She very good, very nice, very good.

She smiled and moved her hand around before her face.

So pretty. She very pretty too.

The tiny woman pointed out at the gallery—

That her too. She make many art.

She laughed. Sue and Margie were looking at the painting on the wall. The palate was basic, shades of pink. The lines were soft and simple; a nude woman curled around a small baby.
You like? Not for sale. I show you sale.

She showed the women a series of slides. The paintings were of flowers. The women agreed that they were all very beautiful.

You like to buy?
Sue you could get one for Lizzie…
Did you see these prices? I don’t think so.

After the tiny woman put the slides away the women asked to look at the painting on the wall a little while longer. The tiny woman said yes and left the room. Sue and Margie stayed long enough to forget about time. The woman watched them from outside the door. They appeared transfixed.

That really is a beautiful painting.
Yeah I guess this trip wasn’t totally worthless.
Because we got to see this incredible piece of art?
Well no, I mean, it’s nice, but I’m just glad I figured out what to get Lizzie?
You did?
Yeah I was thinking about it the whole time we’ve been standing here.

The tiny woman came back in.

So sorry not for sale.
It’s all right.
You come back please. I take you out—come!
Sue covered her eyes and took Margie’s hand who followed the tiny woman to the door. The women exchanged thank you and Sue and Margie walked back towards the car.

Just don’t look back Sue.
Trust me I won’t.
So what are you getting Lizzie?
Van Gough mugs—those’ll be perfect in her new home.