Blender
Blender
‘Just like that?’ asked Stewart.
‘Just like that,’ said Ann.
‘But that makes no sense…’ Stewart began.
‘No, not if you ask me,’ said Ann gloomily, ‘but I’m kinda used.’ She was sitting in front of her fifth mojito, and it wasn’t doing her much good, Stewart thought, only he wasn’t going to interrupt. Not because he had anything untoward in mind. No, she was simply unhappy, so… he would just sit there and talk her away from it, slowly, kindly. That was what friends were supposed to do. Ann wasn’t swaying yet, but it felt like she was a bit blurred around the edges, even though, of course, Stewart wasn’t drunk himself. He could take much more than that.
‘Honestly, love, you can’t help your surname,’ Stewart offered.
‘No need to rub it in. I know that. But that doesn’t change the fact that I’m Ann Ormos.’
‘You are not… bugger.’
‘That’s the catch, you see? First your pal says, So who are you seeing? And you say, Oh, Ann. And he goes, Which Ann? And you go, Oh, Ann Ormos. And then basically it doesn’t get much further than that, because at that point this person has that look suggestive of a week-long constipation, or something. Only he’s just trying to keep a straight face. So that’s where some people stop. But some need to drive the point home, so they say clever stuff like… Shouldn’t she lay off the donuts then? Or… That’s all right as long as she has a good soul… And some of those fuckers even mean it.’
‘But listen,’ Stewart said, desperate for a change of subject, but keen to do it in a gentle manner, ‘there must have been something else. He couldn’t have just dumped you because of that, because your name and surname sound funny together. I mean, let’s face it, you are so beautiful and clever, and, well, you’re everything a man could want, really.’ He decided to stop there.
‘Thanks,’ Ann said absent-mindedly. ‘But I’m sure he could, the damn creep, I’m sure that’s just what he did. He asked me a couple of times if I’d be eager to change it. But why should I, just so that some idiot could feel safe with his girlfriend’s name in front of his idiot friends? What would that make me if not an idiot myself? My family, I will have you know, was one of the first to come here. Well maybe not on the Mayflower, but, like, on a boat soon after. Or something, a freaking raft, for all I know. But, but… Where was I? Oh, I was going to say that regardless, Ormos is a name with a noble past, it’s a Greek name originally… the damn ugly thing.’
She looked for a second as if she was going to break into tears, but instead she took a generous sip of mojito and continued rather calmly. ‘Anyhow, it’s not like I really care. Sure, I liked him well enough, but it wasn’t, like, you know, the love of my life, or anything.’
I should hope not, Stewart thought to himself quickly, as if he was ashamed of that momentary internal confession. But then he thought with much sadness: why is it that people even bother to say that a thing isn’t at all important, when it is so painfully visible that it is, for them? Of course, it’s just something you have to accept with people (he made a mental sigh), but some of this yearning-turned-denial is just too transparent to be true.
‘I know just what you mean. But people come and go, trust me,’ he said instead with a flippancy he didn’t feel. ‘I’m sure it’s the case with you.’
Ann finished her mojito in silence and waved to the barman to give her another one, then said tentatively, ‘I envy you, you know. You are so open about your orientation, your Englishness, you just come here and blend effortlessly because people, well, people can’t believe you’re real, I guess. You’re like an intoxicating smoke. Everything is so natural with you, so easy. You could probably make a smallpox epidemic seem like a feast.’
‘Oh.’ That was a bit unexpected-quite a bit so, in fact, so he laughed. ‘Intoxicating smoke, fancy you saying that. Well, I don’t know. I guess back home is a bit… a bit stuffy for me. I came here in search of adventure, I guess you could say.’
‘But none of the men here really interest you that much, huh?’ Ann decided, it seemed, to steer clear of the topic of her unfortunate love life. ‘Sure, your British gays have more class.’
‘They aren’t really my British gays, lovey,’ Stewart said with considerable tension he hoped his voice or body didn’t betray. ‘I’m sure they aren’t for let, and those that are, well, I wouldn’t care to hire any of them. Which is a rather clumsy way of saying, they… we are properly a rather proud bunch, not the cuddly sort people for some reason think us to be.’ Goodness gracious me, he thought, why am I even doing this?
‘So,’ he ventured, quickly downing a shot of tequila, ‘you have fond memories of your Oxford days, then?’
‘Yessir,’ Ann reported. ‘But you know I wanted to go to law school since I was this big. And there’s no sense in doing law school in Ye Olde England if you plan on practicing in the New one’.
‘How very true,’ Stewart said stupidly.
‘I think it is so cool,’ Ann continued as she treated herself to the sixth mojito, ‘so cool that you came here just a year after I returned.’
‘Yes, well, it’s the land of the opportunity,’ Stewart responded with a cautiously manufactured laugh, ‘always was, always will be.’
‘Sure,’ Ann said calmly. ‘And it is ever so nice, so sweet to have you as a friend. I really don’t have to fear you, or even to be nervous around you. You are such a perfect specimen of a male but you exude… calm. And, of course, your blazers are simply the best in town.’
‘Oh, well, you know why that is,’ said Stewart, thinking he was on firmer ground there. ‘It is a little point with my kind that we have to look decent. And, and… well, I am, you know, very indifferent to your sex. What has always attracted me in you was your cleverness. And, well, good looks, too, of course, but not in that sense, you know.’ Stop, he said to himself, you’re blowing it after all these years.
‘Sure,’ Ann said again. ‘Thanks. You’re not half bad yourself.’
They sat for a moment in silence. Stewart stuck a hundred bucks under the ashtray and rose.
‘I have to go, gorgeous,’ he said. ‘I’ve got some plans for tonight.’
‘Oh, sure, never mind that, who would want to stay with Enormous?’ Ann said, her voice mockingly atremble. ‘Go ahead, venture into the night, paint the town what you will, have the time of your life and I’ll just sit here and get wasted.’
Stewart sat down again. ‘Well, now that you put it like that,’ he said with what he expected sounded like evenly-toned friendliness, ‘of course I’m not going anywhere.’
‘Good for you. Show me some fingers,’ Ann asked.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, just what I said. Show me some fingers.’
Stewart obligingly thrust his palm up and showed her four fingers.
‘Four fingers, right?’ Ann said.
‘Yes, exactly right. Think you’re too drunk?’ Stewart inquired.
‘No, actually. But, most importantly,’ said Ann all of a sudden in a very sober voice, ‘you now know that I’m not blind.’
Stewart suddenly realised where all of this was heading, but he behaved as if he didn’t-because he hoped that, perhaps, by a strange stroke of luck it would go some other way.
‘What do you mean, love?’ he said.
‘Just this,’ Ann rose. Now she did sway, but she looked quite imposing. She wasn’t enormous, no matter what her strange name said, but certainly very impressive. ‘When you call me love, what is it… what is it that you mean, exactly? Because it’s not in truth an English term of endearment, is it? At least not when you’re saying it. I’ve watched you for quite some time, Stewart, and let me tell you: you could be the Tin Woodman before you were gay.’
‘Okay,’ Stewart said quietly. He also rose, just in case there was a need to restrain her. He was, of course, a great deal taller. ‘I hope you’re not going to make a scene, though, Dorothy. It’s all that lovey-dovey business and the mojitos, they’re playing tricks with your head.’
‘So you’re actually gay?’ Ann said. She suddenly felt weak.
‘Why wouldn’t I be?’ Stewart asked. I’m deflecting, he thought, let’s hope she doesn’t see that.
‘And you followed me here all the way from London? To… the land of opportunity?’
‘Why wouldn’t I?’ Stewart was adamant.
‘So how do you like it more, then?’ Ann demanded. ‘You active, passive, or auto-reverse?’
‘Now, dear, please don’t be disgusting,’ said Stewart peacefully. ‘Let’s not make things tasteless.’
She sighed.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said bleakly. ‘I’m sorry, dear Stewart. I shouldn’t have said any of that. I haven’t been watching you, and… and, I don’t know, I guess I just wanted to… know somebody was by my side who needed me so badly he would be prepared to fly over the ocean for me. Even if he wasn’t technically, or even potentially my lover.’
‘Yes… you sounded for a second like Perry Mason there. Well, sorry, love,’ Stewart shrugged and emitted a laugh that he hoped had sounded cruel. ‘I’m here for you, sure. But mostly I’m here for myself. I just came here to blend.’
Ann picked her purse.
‘Right,’ she mumbled absent-mindedly. ‘To blend, well, you’re a master. Blazer man. Quite right. Well, I guess I should go. Thanks for the drinks, Stew, and I’ll see you ‘round. Sorry I sounded like such a noseying bitch there.’
She left. Stewart took out a pack of cigarettes and lit one. His hand trembled, but inhaling the smoke felt really good. A man sat by his side.
‘You’re no gay,’ he said. ‘Sorry. Couldn’t help overhearing. I’m Jim, by the way.’
‘I don’t really care, I’m afraid,’ Stewart responded. ‘The same goes to you,’ he said to the barman who was about to tell him the premises were non-smoking.
‘Thought you wouldn’t,’ said Jim philosophically. He smelled of a strange unisex perfume with a distinct musky undertone. ‘Like hell you’re gay. She must be blind, for all she says.’
‘Yeah,’ Stewart said. He kept tugging on his cigarette. ‘I know.’
‘But you’re seriously in love, man.’
‘Yeah,’ Stewart said. ‘I know.’
‘Just like that?’ asked Stewart.
‘Just like that,’ said Ann.
‘But that makes no sense…’ Stewart began.
‘No, not if you ask me,’ said Ann gloomily, ‘but I’m kinda used.’ She was sitting in front of her fifth mojito, and it wasn’t doing her much good, Stewart thought, only he wasn’t going to interrupt. Not because he had anything untoward in mind. No, she was simply unhappy, so… he would just sit there and talk her away from it, slowly, kindly. That was what friends were supposed to do. Ann wasn’t swaying yet, but it felt like she was a bit blurred around the edges, even though, of course, Stewart wasn’t drunk himself. He could take much more than that.
‘Honestly, love, you can’t help your surname,’ Stewart offered.
‘No need to rub it in. I know that. But that doesn’t change the fact that I’m Ann Ormos.’
‘You are not… bugger.’
‘That’s the catch, you see? First your pal says, So who are you seeing? And you say, Oh, Ann. And he goes, Which Ann? And you go, Oh, Ann Ormos. And then basically it doesn’t get much further than that, because at that point this person has that look suggestive of a week-long constipation, or something. Only he’s just trying to keep a straight face. So that’s where some people stop. But some need to drive the point home, so they say clever stuff like… Shouldn’t she lay off the donuts then? Or… That’s all right as long as she has a good soul… And some of those fuckers even mean it.’
‘But listen,’ Stewart said, desperate for a change of subject, but keen to do it in a gentle manner, ‘there must have been something else. He couldn’t have just dumped you because of that, because your name and surname sound funny together. I mean, let’s face it, you are so beautiful and clever, and, well, you’re everything a man could want, really.’ He decided to stop there.
‘Thanks,’ Ann said absent-mindedly. ‘But I’m sure he could, the damn creep, I’m sure that’s just what he did. He asked me a couple of times if I’d be eager to change it. But why should I, just so that some idiot could feel safe with his girlfriend’s name in front of his idiot friends? What would that make me if not an idiot myself? My family, I will have you know, was one of the first to come here. Well maybe not on the Mayflower, but, like, on a boat soon after. Or something, a freaking raft, for all I know. But, but… Where was I? Oh, I was going to say that regardless, Ormos is a name with a noble past, it’s a Greek name originally… the damn ugly thing.’
She looked for a second as if she was going to break into tears, but instead she took a generous sip of mojito and continued rather calmly. ‘Anyhow, it’s not like I really care. Sure, I liked him well enough, but it wasn’t, like, you know, the love of my life, or anything.’
I should hope not, Stewart thought to himself quickly, as if he was ashamed of that momentary internal confession. But then he thought with much sadness: why is it that people even bother to say that a thing isn’t at all important, when it is so painfully visible that it is, for them? Of course, it’s just something you have to accept with people (he made a mental sigh), but some of this yearning-turned-denial is just too transparent to be true.
‘I know just what you mean. But people come and go, trust me,’ he said instead with a flippancy he didn’t feel. ‘I’m sure it’s the case with you.’
Ann finished her mojito in silence and waved to the barman to give her another one, then said tentatively, ‘I envy you, you know. You are so open about your orientation, your Englishness, you just come here and blend effortlessly because people, well, people can’t believe you’re real, I guess. You’re like an intoxicating smoke. Everything is so natural with you, so easy. You could probably make a smallpox epidemic seem like a feast.’
‘Oh.’ That was a bit unexpected-quite a bit so, in fact, so he laughed. ‘Intoxicating smoke, fancy you saying that. Well, I don’t know. I guess back home is a bit… a bit stuffy for me. I came here in search of adventure, I guess you could say.’
‘But none of the men here really interest you that much, huh?’ Ann decided, it seemed, to steer clear of the topic of her unfortunate love life. ‘Sure, your British gays have more class.’
‘They aren’t really my British gays, lovey,’ Stewart said with considerable tension he hoped his voice or body didn’t betray. ‘I’m sure they aren’t for let, and those that are, well, I wouldn’t care to hire any of them. Which is a rather clumsy way of saying, they… we are properly a rather proud bunch, not the cuddly sort people for some reason think us to be.’ Goodness gracious me, he thought, why am I even doing this?
‘So,’ he ventured, quickly downing a shot of tequila, ‘you have fond memories of your Oxford days, then?’
‘Yessir,’ Ann reported. ‘But you know I wanted to go to law school since I was this big. And there’s no sense in doing law school in Ye Olde England if you plan on practicing in the New one’.
‘How very true,’ Stewart said stupidly.
‘I think it is so cool,’ Ann continued as she treated herself to the sixth mojito, ‘so cool that you came here just a year after I returned.’
‘Yes, well, it’s the land of the opportunity,’ Stewart responded with a cautiously manufactured laugh, ‘always was, always will be.’
‘Sure,’ Ann said calmly. ‘And it is ever so nice, so sweet to have you as a friend. I really don’t have to fear you, or even to be nervous around you. You are such a perfect specimen of a male but you exude… calm. And, of course, your blazers are simply the best in town.’
‘Oh, well, you know why that is,’ said Stewart, thinking he was on firmer ground there. ‘It is a little point with my kind that we have to look decent. And, and… well, I am, you know, very indifferent to your sex. What has always attracted me in you was your cleverness. And, well, good looks, too, of course, but not in that sense, you know.’ Stop, he said to himself, you’re blowing it after all these years.
‘Sure,’ Ann said again. ‘Thanks. You’re not half bad yourself.’
They sat for a moment in silence. Stewart stuck a hundred bucks under the ashtray and rose.
‘I have to go, gorgeous,’ he said. ‘I’ve got some plans for tonight.’
‘Oh, sure, never mind that, who would want to stay with Enormous?’ Ann said, her voice mockingly atremble. ‘Go ahead, venture into the night, paint the town what you will, have the time of your life and I’ll just sit here and get wasted.’
Stewart sat down again. ‘Well, now that you put it like that,’ he said with what he expected sounded like evenly-toned friendliness, ‘of course I’m not going anywhere.’
‘Good for you. Show me some fingers,’ Ann asked.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, just what I said. Show me some fingers.’
Stewart obligingly thrust his palm up and showed her four fingers.
‘Four fingers, right?’ Ann said.
‘Yes, exactly right. Think you’re too drunk?’ Stewart inquired.
‘No, actually. But, most importantly,’ said Ann all of a sudden in a very sober voice, ‘you now know that I’m not blind.’
Stewart suddenly realised where all of this was heading, but he behaved as if he didn’t-because he hoped that, perhaps, by a strange stroke of luck it would go some other way.
‘What do you mean, love?’ he said.
‘Just this,’ Ann rose. Now she did sway, but she looked quite imposing. She wasn’t enormous, no matter what her strange name said, but certainly very impressive. ‘When you call me love, what is it… what is it that you mean, exactly? Because it’s not in truth an English term of endearment, is it? At least not when you’re saying it. I’ve watched you for quite some time, Stewart, and let me tell you: you could be the Tin Woodman before you were gay.’
‘Okay,’ Stewart said quietly. He also rose, just in case there was a need to restrain her. He was, of course, a great deal taller. ‘I hope you’re not going to make a scene, though, Dorothy. It’s all that lovey-dovey business and the mojitos, they’re playing tricks with your head.’
‘So you’re actually gay?’ Ann said. She suddenly felt weak.
‘Why wouldn’t I be?’ Stewart asked. I’m deflecting, he thought, let’s hope she doesn’t see that.
‘And you followed me here all the way from London? To… the land of opportunity?’
‘Why wouldn’t I?’ Stewart was adamant.
‘So how do you like it more, then?’ Ann demanded. ‘You active, passive, or auto-reverse?’
‘Now, dear, please don’t be disgusting,’ said Stewart peacefully. ‘Let’s not make things tasteless.’
She sighed.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said bleakly. ‘I’m sorry, dear Stewart. I shouldn’t have said any of that. I haven’t been watching you, and… and, I don’t know, I guess I just wanted to… know somebody was by my side who needed me so badly he would be prepared to fly over the ocean for me. Even if he wasn’t technically, or even potentially my lover.’
‘Yes… you sounded for a second like Perry Mason there. Well, sorry, love,’ Stewart shrugged and emitted a laugh that he hoped had sounded cruel. ‘I’m here for you, sure. But mostly I’m here for myself. I just came here to blend.’
Ann picked her purse.
‘Right,’ she mumbled absent-mindedly. ‘To blend, well, you’re a master. Blazer man. Quite right. Well, I guess I should go. Thanks for the drinks, Stew, and I’ll see you ‘round. Sorry I sounded like such a noseying bitch there.’
She left. Stewart took out a pack of cigarettes and lit one. His hand trembled, but inhaling the smoke felt really good. A man sat by his side.
‘You’re no gay,’ he said. ‘Sorry. Couldn’t help overhearing. I’m Jim, by the way.’
‘I don’t really care, I’m afraid,’ Stewart responded. ‘The same goes to you,’ he said to the barman who was about to tell him the premises were non-smoking.
‘Thought you wouldn’t,’ said Jim philosophically. He smelled of a strange unisex perfume with a distinct musky undertone. ‘Like hell you’re gay. She must be blind, for all she says.’
‘Yeah,’ Stewart said. He kept tugging on his cigarette. ‘I know.’
‘But you’re seriously in love, man.’
‘Yeah,’ Stewart said. ‘I know.’