Jumpy

Megan was simply worn out. Fatigued. Weary. Exhausted. She lay on the couch reading a science fiction novel, jumpy after meeting with Edith, longing to take a nap, wondering how she would get through her days without dope. There was no dope left in the house. She had flushed it down the toilet after Dreary’s visit. She was half-terrified that she would have to call the police, or that Dreary would call the police on her. It was very weird to have no marijuana in the house. She had smoked dope nearly every day fsince she was a young mother. It had been part of her routine. It didn’t do much for her. She just liked to smoke. She couldn’t smoke cigarettes because they caused cancer.

Maybe she would smoke cigars or a pipe. Did people smoke cigars and pipes anymore? Virginia Woolf used to smoke cigars. Megan honestly hadn’t seen any women smoke pipes and she hadn’t seen a man smoke a cigar or a pipe in twenty years. Professors and graduate students in tweed jackets used to smoke them.

She and her friends had smoked dope. It was all rather silly after a certain point. It wasn’t substance abuse and she didn’t need rehab. Marijuana wasn’t an addictive drug like cocaine. It was more like beer or a cocktail. Let’s drink. Too many calories: let’s smoke.

Megan had treated the sweet rolls like dope. Why were Rose’s ideas so bad? Bird thought she had made the rolls for him and now refused to go home. You might need me and I don’t go to work till 3. He sat watching an awful show on TV. He seemed to have endless tolerance for TV.

Megan knew Bird was attracted to her but she didn’t feel that way about him. He was a sweet guy, but not at all sexy. He was hanging around, hoping to take advantage of her, because he thought her helpless. She hadn’t had sex since her husband died of cancer. She hadn’t felt like it. S She had retired from her job and simply drugged herself: twice as much dope as she had ever smoked in her life. About a third of her pension had gone for dope.

Here she was in a dopeless world, trying to read a Marion Zimmer Bradley novel, while a man made a pass at her.

Let me comfort you, Bird said. We’re friends. He tried to sit beside her on the couch, but it was difficult because she lay there and didn’t make room for him.

No, Bird. She pushed him away. Megan had never had trouble asserting herself.

The phone rang. Rose left an urgent message on the answering machine, saying to call back at once. Megan was too tired to call back. She said to Bird, Could you get that for me? He passed her the phone.

Rose said, Megan! Why are you there? Ben says you’re in danger. And he means it. He hears things.

What? I don’t think so.

No, really. He heard that Dreary has been paid to intimidate you.

Why? Who wants to get me?

We don’t know for sure. We think it may be the crazy Ms. Bottle. She can’t go after me because I’m suing. But you’re my sister and maybe she thinks you’ll sue her too.

How would she know about Dreary in Philadelphia?

Just go stay with Jason or your friend Bird. Ben knows a lot of people. And Dreary will be back.

Rose, I have no intention of being frightened away from my home.

Bird went to work. He obviously thought he was getting some if he stayed around long enough. She loved him dearly but it was not that kind of love. She couldn’t love anybody who believed in psychotropic drugs. She thought he should read One Flew over the Cuckoo's Nest.

That night she slept like a log. She was exhausted. She dreamed about her husband. They were kissing at a picnic, sitting under a tree. Then she heard screaming. It wasn’t a dream. Somebody was outside her window, yelling, You owe us. We’ll get you, Megan Underwood. Bitch! Jerkface!

Jerkface. Megan hadn’t heard that since grade school. She got dressed quickly. She was terrified of the men in her yard and thought about calling 911. She held the phone indecisively.

Suddenly her next-door neighbor went out into the yard and waved a cell phone at them. Get out of here ! You’ve woken up the whole neighborhood. You assholes! Get out of here or I’ll call the police.

Somebody else on the street must have called 911. The police showed up. The criminals left.

When the men left, gunning the motor of their limo, Megan went out the door and chatted with her neighbor.

Smoke? he said, offering her a cigarette.

No. I wanted to thank you. I don’t quite understand what they wanted.

Gangsters. They like to cause trouble, blackmail innocent people. I’m a lawyer. Jim Collins, he said, shaking her hand.

Could I offer you a drink?

You could.

They went inside. She got him a beer. All I’ve got, I’m afraid.

It’ll do.

They started laughing about the men outside the limo. They’re ridiculous. But they looked as though they might have weapons.

Yes, I was afraid of that. I had a water pistol in my pocket. If worst came to worst, I was going to show it to them. My son gave it to me.

Oh, you’re married?

Divorced.

Suddenly he was all over her and she was gratified. She had feelings, feelings such as she hadn’t had in years. They made out for half an hour before they went to bed. He was her idea of sexy. She had never gotten to know her neighbor but had been eyeing him for months and had had no idea he reciprocated.

They slept, woke up, had sex again.

When the limo came back at 4 a.m., he got up and shouted, Get the hell out of here!

The men left immediately.

Are they after you for dope?

What? she said innocently.

I’ve seen you smoking, silly woman. Perhaps I should stay with you for a couple of nights.

Perhaps you should. But I’ve given up the smoking. It’s been 48 hours.

Pretty good. I’ve got to go to work. See you around six?