Much of the day, Emory had little to do. So she would play this old school turn-based strategy game called Master of Magic on her laptop and listen to music. The gameplay featured two planes of existence, which could be toggled by a button in the corner. Emory really liked this aspect of the game, because it was like being able to play two games at once, but what was happening on one side could affect the other, too.
Playing that afternoon was Magus’ new record, GOD, which had come out shortly after Her Divine Revelation back at the start of 2018. Emory didn’t accept that she was actually God–or that any god existed, even–but she really loved the music.
Cults are so depressing, she thought. They kina ruin a lot of good things.
The phone on the desk rang, and Emory answered it, liking a little the quaintness of a landline, even though she’d never ever in a million fucking years want one again.
“Hello?”
“Hey, girl!” It was Melanee.
“Oh, hey! Jeez, what time is it there?”
“I dunno, late? Early? Depends on how you think about it.”
“Sure, sure. Are you having fun?”
“Totally I am. Met a lot of cool people, doing some neat research. It’s awesome, really.”
“Cool. I’m so glad for you!”
“How’s the place?”
“Oh, it’s fine. Totally fine. Nothing new here.” Then she remembered the old man. “Well, actually there was this one thing …”
Melanee sighed. “The old dude?”
“Yeah! Do you know him?”
“Sort of? I feel so embarrassed right now, like a total fucking airhead. I completely spaced on telling you about him …”
“Hey, no, it’s okay. Totally fine. He wasn’t mean or scary or anything.”
“He’s kind of a weirdo, though.”
Emory couldn’t deny that, but didn’t like stigmatizing mental illness, so she just remained quiet.
“It’s just that he’s only come by a couple of times before.”
“No, it’s okay. Really. We just talked for a minute, then I went back in and kept an eye on him until he left.”
“He poke the bomb shelter?”
Emory laughed. “Yes he did.”
“Yeah, he always does that. Or, you know, all two or three times. Such a freaky old dude.”
Melanee’s attitude was starting to chafe Emory a bit, but she set it aside.
“Did he say he was the previous owner?”
“Yes.”
“He’s not.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, really. He thinks he is, but he isn’t.”
“Huh.”
“Yeah,” Melanee said. “He’s batshit. Batshit, but harmless.”
“Yes, I thought he was harmless, too,” Emory said, as she used her ironfisted dwarves to overtake the opposition, only half-listening to Melanee.
“How’s Cornelius?”
“Oh, he’s good. Happy. We talk a lot.”
“He’s a sweetheart.”
“Did you want to speak to him?”
“Nah, that’s okay. Just give him a kiss and tell him Mommy loves him.”
“Okay, will do.”
Emory couldn’t see it clearly, but deep inside she felt she was a better mother and caretaker to Cornelius than Melanee was or ever could be. But she hid this, even from herself.
“And like I said, feel free to party or whatever. You can fuck in the bed, I don’t care.”
That made Emory fill with embarrassment, shame, and sexual arousal, all at once.
She didn’t really want to ask, but found herself saying, “Are you sure?”
“Totally! Get your freak on girl! Have a good time.”
“I will,” Emory replied absently, which made Melanee giggle.
“Okay, well, I was just checking in on you. Prolly won’t hear from me again for awhile. I’m gonna be busy ay eff around here. And everything there is in your very capable hands, so.”
“Yeah, totally. I got this. You enjoy your thing out there, girl.”
“Okay, cool. Love ya, girl.”
This landed weirdly on Emory, seemingly oddly intimate and like she was trying to make it casual. Lots of women said this, Emory knew that. But it felt different somehow.
“Love you, too,” Emory said back, then cringed at herself.
“Mm-bye.”
“Bye,” Emory said, then quickly hung up the phone, buried her head in her arms.
“Mm-bye,” Cornelius repeated.
Emory looked up. “Did you hear her side of it?”
“I hear it all, baby!” Cornelius said, then squawked.
Continue reading …
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"I hear it all, baby...."
Great line, especially for Cornelius, who is probably often overlooked.
Girl talk...always a bit of mystery to those of us on the other side of the tracks. How straight forward it is, whether there are hidden points between the lines...A little like a Bob Dylan song you can't nail down.