There’s something wonderful about biting into a delicate little bird.  The small edible bones splintering, the delight of the lacey rib cage shattering in one bite.   The diminishment of the wings, as if Donna was devouring flight itself.  As if she were gobbling down the clouds and the sky, sending them to their final resting place, her stomach, like a great, cruel Goddess.  The thought made Donna smile.  Perhaps something had gone right this evening.

Donna & The Elevator

Donna could feel it being ripped from her…

Donna Lamét’s wig had caught in the elevator doors!  She had meant to pin back that rabid wisp of hair when she crossed Powell Street.  Now she was in an elevator with some trim lawyer and no hair!  Well, her hair was caught midway between the elevator doors.  She tried desperately not to panic.   She casually put her hand on the mound of curls and tugged.  To her horror it didn’t budge.  The wig was stuck in the maw of the elevator doors and they still had twenty floors to go!  She smiled casually and then, using all her strength and both hands, ripped the wig out of the door.  She stumbled back against the lawyer, “Sorry.”  She said quickly as she tugged the wig back on her head.  Her troubles didn’t stop there.   The hair-do she had spent more than an hour fixing, flopped uselessly on her head, like a bunch of paralyzed limbs.   She noticed that the lawyer had instinctively put his hand on her back to be sure she didn’t fall down.  Did he wink at her?  It was too humiliating for Donna to contemplate. 

As soon as the elevator opened, Donna fled.  Into the bathroom she went.   She quickly patted the sweat that collected on her brow and nose and realized when she looked in the mirror--she was in critical need of a touch up.   With an artist’s flair Donna consumed herself with arranging her hair, reapplying her mascara and lipstick.  Suddenly she heard a curious sound emanating from one of the stalls…

As if caught in a spell she stood there at the sink just listening.   What was it?   She realized it was humming.  Not a bad sound really but what was the tune? The theme to THE SIMPSONS or PSYCHO?  And then to her horror the lawyer came out of the stall and started to wash his hands in the sink next to her.  Donna’s eyes slung desperately into her handbag as she pawed uselessly for some fictional item.  

“All better?” He asked.
“Oh, yes.”  Donna looked up.  She tried to smile.  She noticed with a flush, that the lawyer, seemed amused.
“I think you’re still blushing.”   He looked at her.  Was that a twinkle in his eye?  Or did she take too many Vicodin this morning?
“That elevator is ruthless.”  She managed.  He stood there a moment too long Donna thought.  He was, well, gorgeous in Donna’s eyes.   Big brown eyes, a face that would be comfortable in a J Crew ad, wide shoulders and there was a sense of him being comfortable in his own skin…but then again Donna always liked a man in a suit.
“I’m Bill.”  A firm, washed hand, was thrust in her direction.
“Donna.”  The grip was strong, powerful…electric?  Was he…flirting?
“Nice to meet you.”  Bill said.  “I’m new here.  I start work for Liebling and Liebling this morning.”
“Donna.  I work down the hall at Beepee and Boyle.”
There was a pause.  Donna’s mind raced for small talk subjects but all she could think of was snow falling quietly on a mountainside, quite inappropriate.  “Oh, mind, why are you so useless?”  She thought angrily to herself.   The overwhelming citrus soap odor of the bathroom filled the silence.
“Well, I’ll see you around Donna.”
“See you around Bill.”  Donna let her voice lilt a little.   And Bill winked before he let the door to the bathroom close. 

Donna At The Sushi Bar

It was too terrible to let the mind settle on it.  

Tonight Donna was eating a geisha…

Well, a geisha roll.  But to Donna it was practically one and the same thing.  Her best friend, Missy, just loved the stuff.   Why here she was hunched over her plate, next to Donna, quivering with each slurp and gobble.  Moaning like a housewife getting a good foot massage.   It made Donna’s flesh crawl to see Missy’s eyes bugging out (rather similar to her quarry) as she gulped down her sashimi – cold, dead, fish meat.  The hair on Donna’s neck stood quite erect…and seemed to vibrate with each of Missy’s moans.

But Donna was not going to let on….After all it was a sign of sophistication to indulge in sushi and besides…

No one at Kyoto Mamma’s noticed Donna slipping each piece into her napkin and depositing the globs of fish chunks into her open beaded handbag.  She smiled wistfully, as she closed the pouting clasp to her purse, and ordered another roll…

Donna At The Grand Cafe

Donna nervously eyed the bar at the Grand Café.  She was suitably early for her date, allowing enough time for at least a few cocktails, before she met Bill in the restaurant.  She sidled herself between an elderly couple and a younger couple.  The amber lights glowed down on the bar.   The elderly woman next to Donna slammed her glass down suddenly.  Her bracelets scraped against the bar like chattering teeth.

“Excuse me!”  The old lady shrieked, “My Old-fashioned needs more bitters!  It tastes like watered down sugar.  And don’t give me that look, Mr. Pouty-Face.  I paid good money.   I’ve had enemas with more kick!”   Donna simply couldn’t understand how the old woman had gained that metallic-like quality to her screech.  She sounded like a tractor giving birth.  How was Donna to fully recover from her hangover?  The old man next to her didn’t say anything—he had obviously gone deaf years ago and had faded out like an old radio station -- the old lady’s hunched leather purse seemed more eligible to hold a drink at the bar.   Finally the bartender dumped the rest of the bitters he had in his tray and stuffed them into the old lady’s drink.  It looked a bit like a potted plant Donna noted. The old bat’s metallic screech smothered itself in a satisfied gurgle and then a smack.  

A downy silence descended the bar after that uproar…Donna absorbed it like a tonic and deftly finished her second martini when she heard the young couple on the other side of her.   Like a tennis match these two hurled complaints at each other.  As Donna eavesdropped she could tell they were champions.  They lobbed cutting little insults about each other, one after another, so relentlessly; Donna checked her sleeve for spattered blood.  Donna quietly kept score.  When the husband said his wife was a “little liar, who lied about everything,” Donna winced a bit, but when the wife replied that her husband was stubborn as a “retarded donkey” Donna had to look over…sure that the wife would be slapped.  The husband didn’t even flinch.  He replied calmly, in an even tone, he’d rather be thought of as “stupid than a liar.”  “Oh!”  Donna thought to herself, “Taking the high road.  He’s good.”

“Lying is the only way I get through this marriage.”  The wife replied with just the right tone of sadness, Donna thought, to get a little ahead in the game.   And then the wife went on to say that when her husband “had his way” with her in the bedroom it was so unexciting for her that all she could think about was the nice, cool, strawberry Yoplait waiting for her down in the fridge. 
“Well, not anymore, darling!”  The husband replied acidly, “Cause I just ate the LAST Yoplait!”  To which the wife gasped murderously--Donna thought she was going to pull out a gun and shoot her husband dead right there for eating her lover.  But then the wife started laughing until the husband started laughing.  Donna laughed under her napkin.  And soon they ordered another round of drinks and the insults continued to bubble out of them like a steady mountain brook.  Donna shook her head.   She simply couldn’t keep up with such artistry. “If only I could be in such a successful relationship.” She thought wistfully to herself.  And then suddenly, she felt Bill’s hand on her back.

Arriving At The Office

Donna sat across from her boss, Mr. Beepee, and thought of several directions she would like to pull his toupee—almost anywhere but where he had tragically left it; sort of askew on his skull.  Perhaps if you had a taste for the asymmetrical or just one eye you might end up where it had been placed.  It was deeply troubling for Donna. 
“You are here Miss Lamét because we need to review your performance at work.”
“Am I getting a raise?”  Donna asked hopefully.
A bird of silence flew over the room.
“You have been excessively late.” 
“Excessive?”  Donna batted her eyes.
“You have been late many times.”
“What time am I expected?”
“9:00am.  Sharp.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“I thought we had agreed, after the events that happened at the Christmas party, that my arrival would be sometime around noon each day.”
“What events?  What Christmas party?”
“You are clever Mr. Beepee.  You’re pretending you don’t remember our conversation.”
“I’m Jewish we don’t have Christmas parties at this office.”
“Well, it was for Passover then.”
“Miss Lamét.  You have been expected at 9:00am since you started working for us in 1994 or was it 95?
“1992 actually.  Don’t you remember giving me my 15^th anniversary ring?”  Donna displayed a cocktail ring on her finger.   Mr. Beepee looked at her.  She could see the panic settling in.
“In any case we need you here on time.”
“Being on time is a subject of some confusion then.  When I was first hired I came in at 8am then for a while in 97’ I came in at 10 but then in 2001 there was that six months, during the sexual harassment suit, I had with the firm—when your nephew did that thing with the fish tank, that I came in at 2pm.”
“That was temporary.”  Mr. Beepee sighed. “And Ralph had to be institutionalized.”
“I nearly had to be institutionalized when I saw Ralph belly up in the fish tank.  When I think of all those fire hoses…” Donna shuddered at the memory.
“Alright!  You know we’re not supposed to talk about that Miss Lamét.”
“And then after our conversation on Passover I thought it was noon.”
“I don’t remember that conversation.”
“You don’t remember a lot of things since you were hit over the head by your wife with a golf club.”  Donna smiled sweetly.  “I mean your ex-wife.”
“I remember when you are expected here Miss Lamét.  Now, I have several other things to do, so I hope we are clear on this subject?”
“Oh, yes Mr. Beepee.  I will be sure to be in at 12 on the dot.”
“Very good.  I’m glad we have had this conversation.  I feel much better.”
“Me too.”  Donna said as she shimmied out of the office.   She walked past Missy’s desk and winked.

Donna On A Foggy Night

The mist netted in Donna’s faux fur collar as she waited for Bill to come out.  She really didn’t know why she waited or what she would say when she saw him.  Was it because she was in love with him?  Is this what love is?  Donna was pretty sure she couldn’t love anyone but if she had to love someone it was probably Bill.  The thought prickled her lips with panic.  “Love is a mugger that steals your soul.”  She thought to herself.  She had sworn to protect herself from such evil.  She had been very successful at thwarting it whenever it reared its ugly head in her heart.  She had limited her friendships to cool salads at brunch.  She had even taken a kitten back to the pound when she realized she was feeling that panic.  How had it snuck up on her this time?   Perhaps it had been disguised as all that anger?  She had never been so angry in all her life.  It was unexplainable. These past six weeks she literally burned through 10 pounds of anger.   She had hung up on six of her friends when they teased her about Bill.  She had ruined at least six pairs of shoes by kicking a wall or car tire or well, Bill, in frustration.   666 the signs were all there...

Donna’s thoughts fried on the bosom of the hussy she had seen Bill go into the bar with.  Bill had said he was “busy” tonight.  It was the first time that Bill was unavailable when she called.  Which was fine, time away, is fine.  Donna had decided to go out.  It was by chance that she saw Bill across the street with some blonde, young thing.   Younger, Donna noted, bitterly, than herself.   But a sloppy dresser.   Who wears a tank top and jeans to go out for a Friday evening?  “Someone young and irresistible.”  The reply came back to Donna.  But Donna was looking good these days.   Her weight loss even put her back into the “visible zone” on Castro Street.  Eyes scanned her as they had ten years ago.  That was because, Donna had to admit, besides the raging arguments, there was also a lot of fun with Bill, a lot of wonderful meals, long talks, great ideas, sleepovers (which Donna had banished from her life fifteen years ago) had become a permanent unspoken arrangement in her life with Bill and Donna had accidentally become happy.  But that’s how love gets you.  

Donna shivered as she stood in front of the door to the bar.  She knew it was only a matter of time before Bill came out…he was an obsessive chain smoker. 

Donna was too angry to smoke.   She shook in her heels and waited…