Flesh

“Who may I tell her is calling?” Alison asked.

“This is Jason Banning.”

“Thank you. Just a moment.” She covered the mouthpiece again. “Jason, the actor, that scuzzball’s roommate.”

“The freshman.”

Nodding, Alison set down the phone and hurried to the sofa. She nudged Celia’s shoulder. The girl frowned and mumbled and kept her eyes shut. Alison lifted one of the mufflike speakers off her ear. “Hey, snoozy, you got a wakeup call.”

“Huh?”

“You got an admirer on the phone.”

A single eyelid struggled upward. “Huh? Who is…?”

“Jason.”

She raised her other eyelid. Her gaze slid sideways to Alison. “Jason? Jason Banning?”

“That’s the one.”

“Be damn,” she mumbled.

“Want me to tell him you can’t come to the phone?”

“Eat my shorts.” She pulled the headset off and slowly sat up, groaning. “God, I’m death warmed over.”

Alison brought the phone closer. She placed it on the coffee table and handed the receiver to Celia.

“Hi, Jason,” Celia said. She sounded cheerful and friendly and in tip-top shape.

Alison looked at Helen. Helen shook her head and chuckled.

“Yeah, some bastard ran me off the road…No, not too bad. I’m not too pretty to look at, but…Well, that’s just ’cause you haven’t seen me…Oh? Well, I wouldn’t mind seeing you either…Tonight?…No, I don’t have any plans that I can’t get out of…”

Helen, still shaking her head, swiveled her eyes upward.

“That’d be great. What time?…Okay. Great…Terrific. See you then.” She held out the phone, and Alison hung it up for her.

“Are you sure you’re up to a date?”

“He’s taking me to the Lobster Shanty, I’m up to that.”

“Decent,” Alison said. The Lobster Shanty was the finest restaurant in Clinton.

“That should be a real thrill,” Helen said, “going out with a freshman.”

“A gorgeous freshman,” Celia amended.

“Robbing the cradle.”

“Floss your butt.” She lay down again on the sofa and crossed her ankles. “Besides, he’s twenty-one, same as us.”

“Sure.”

“He is.”

“What’d he do, flunk three times?”

“He worked after high school. Modeled, did commercials, that sort of stuff.”

“What about his girlfriend?” Alison asked. “I thought you said he was going with some gal.”

“Yeah, he was. Guess he saw the error of his ways.”

“Maybe he likes to date cripples,” Helen suggested.

“Wants to use her for a base,” Alison said.

“Wants to slide in,” Helen added.

“You two are a riot.”

“We’re just jealous,” Helen told her. “We just wish we could go to the Lobster Shanty with a freshman.”

“I’ll call him back,” Celia said. “Maybe he can set up one of you guys with Roland.”

“I’m not selfish, Alison can have him.”

Celia turned her head on the cushion and smiled at Alison. “We’ll make it a double date, just like junior high.”

“Pardon me while I heave.”

“I realize Roland probably isn’t as handsome and worldly as Evan, but hey, it’s Saturday night, you don’t want to sit around alone on Saturday night, do you?”

“Besides,” Helen added, “he’s obviously got a good case of the hots for you.”

“A case of the hards,” Celia said.

“Way he was eyeing you yesterday…”

“Stripping you with his eyes…”

The talk made Alison feel squirmy. “I’d really like to double with you, Celia, but I happen to know that Roland has other plans. He’s got this menage a trois scheduled for tonight.”

Helen snorted.

“Chortle, chortle,” Celia said.

Alison eyed Helen. “She thinks I’m joking. Don’t you find it a trifle peculiar that Jason, who has never before asked Celia out—in spite of her beauty and wit—should invite her to dinner the very day after her chance encounter at the shopping mall with his roommate, Roland?”

Helen stroked her heavy lower lip, and nodded. “’Tis passing strange.”

Celia smirked. “Tell you what, Roland shows up for dinner, I’ll give him my house key and tell him I got two horny roommates just dying for a piece of him.” She winked at Helen. “And I’ll advise him to bring chips.”

“So what do you think?” Celia asked.

Alison, on the recliner, set her yellow highlighting pen into the gutter of the Chaucer text she had been studying for the past two hours, and looked up. “Not bad.”

The bandage was gone from Celia’s brow. Tied around her head was a blue silk scarf that concealed the abrasion. The scarf was knotted over her left ear, and its ends hung almost to her shoulder. She wore big, hoop earrings.

“You look like Long John Silver,” Alison said.

“Cute, huh?”

“Matter of fact, you look great.”

“You’d never know I was damaged goods, would you?”

“Just by your reputation,” Helen said, coming in from the kitchen with a stein of beer and a can of peanuts. She held the can toward Celia.

“No thanks, I’m saving all my room for dinner.”

“Where’s your sling?” Helen asked.

“I’m not going to the Lobster Shanty with a goddamn sling on my arm.” She lifted the arm stiffly away from her side. “I’ve got a bandage on the elbow. And both knees.”

“I’m surprised you have an outfit that’ll cover them,” Helen said.

“It’s the best I could do.”

The blue gown had sleeves to her forearms and its skirt reached well below her knees, covering her bandages but not entirely hiding them. They showed, Alison noticed, because of the way the glossy fabric clung to every inch of her. She appeared to wear three bandages beneath the gown, and nothing else.

Celia looked down at herself. “I would’ve preferred something that showed a little in front,” she said, fingering the neck band at her throat.

“Cellophane might show more,” Helen said, and dropped onto the sofa. “Peanut?” She tossed one to Alison. Alison snatched it out of the air and popped it into her mouth.

“This is a problem,” Celia said, “but I don’t know what I can do about it.” She turned sideways and took a step. Her right leg, bare to the hip, came out of a slit in the gown. The knee was wrapped with a brown elastic band. “I tried taking off the bandage, but the knee really sucks without it.”

“You could try a body stocking,” Alison suggested.

“Har!” Helen blared.