Faux

Annie and Marsha, exhausted from the work week, sat relaxing one Friday evening in the living room of the brownstone they shared in New York City. Their third partner in crime, Phoebe, was out on a date. They were mildly covetous, so they were hashing out their own romantic prospects. Mostly they discussed the parched desert which was the dating landscape that they had long inhabited.

“I found a new dating service I thought we should try,” said Marsha, a full-figured redhead, as she flipped through a magazine.

“Another dating service?” asked Annie with a marked lack of enthusiasm. “Haven’t we already tried every dating service on the planet?” She tossed back her short blonde bob.

“This is a new one,” chirped her friend of many years.

“Where’d you hear about it?” asked Annie.

“I found it on the back of a magazine.”

“What magazine?” asked Annie suspiciously. She knew from experience that her friend often went off on odd tangents. The last dating service Marsha had found, on the back of Popular Mathematics Magazine, had left them saddled for a tedious evening with a pair actuaries, who spent all night explaining the quadratic equation. And they’d been Republicans! Another time, Marsha had contacted a site on the back of a magazine titled State Employees Journal, and they’d wound up with a couple of caseworkers who kept trying to get them to join a union and to enroll them in Medicaid. She shuddered at the memory.

“This one,” said Marsha, showing the glossy periodical to her housemate. “I picked it up yesterday.”

Annie craned her neck to see. “The Quirky Quarterly,” she read aloud. “I never heard of it.”

“It’s new,” said Marsha warmly. “I can’t wait for the results.”

“You already submitted an app?” asked Annie with surprise.

“It only took five minutes. I did it just now, on my phone.”

“They can’t extract much useful information in five minutes,” observed Annie.

“I type fast,” replied Marsha, then added, “I sent one in for both of us, dear.”

“What!” cried Annie. “Another double date? You had no right to involve me without asking first. How could you?”

“You’ll love whoever they set you up with,” said Annie optimistically. “We have a date tonight,” she added and then checked her cell phone. “Six-thirty,” she murmured aloud. “They’ll be here at seven sharp.”

“What!” cried Annie a second time. “How could you?” she asked again.

“Relax,” cooed Marsha. “It’s just a meet and greet, you probably won’t even have to get kissed. Oh! They’ll be here in 29 minutes. Do your Annie magic, dear, and get ready…”

Annie bounced up from the sofa and sprinted to her bathroom, to do what she could, flinging sardonic epithets in her wake.

At one minute of seven, Marsha, fashionably attired in a red party dress, turned to her more subtlely attired housemate and said, “I forgot to tell you: these two guys we’re meeting tonight are both disabled.”

Annie narrowed her eyes. “In what way?” she asked cautiously.

Marsha shrugged. “Don’t know. “That’s the whole theme of The Quirky Quarterly. It’s some sort of outreach program meant to integrate the disabled into mainstream society or something.”

“Great,” muttered Annie unhappily.

“Now, now,” scolded Marsha, “don’t be a bigot.”

Annie rolled her eyes. “Whatever … “

“You,” Marsha informed her housemate, “have been matched up with Timothy Bayer, while I’ve got Matt Hanfelder. Both Democrats in good standing,” she noted. “Good luck, dear!”

Annie rolled her eyes again.

At precisely seven, the doorbell chimed and the women approached the door to look through the peep hole to catch sight of the new arrivals.

“Well,” I don’t see any wheelchairs or crutches,” muttered Annie. While her mind was as open as anyone’s, she had mixed feelings about dating a disabled man, despite her progressive bona fides.

“Of course you don’t,” said Marsha, edging her way past Annie  to the door. She swept it open wide. There the women were met by two men, both in their mid-thirties. But there the similarities ended.

“Hi,” boomed the first fellow loudly. “I’m Matt!” He was clad in a loud yellow blazer, orange necktie and black dress shirt. “Here I be!” he shouted unnecessarily. He was very short and portly and walked with the aid of a cane. His hands trembled slightly.

The women only stared at him. “Come in,” invited Marsha, stepping aside to allow his entrance. Behind Matt came the other man, who immediately introduced himself as Tim. There was nothing conspicuous about Tim. As opposed to the colorful garb of his companion, Tim was clad in a tasteful blazer and dress slacks. Annie’s spirits rose a little. The women introduced themselves.

“Let’s sit,” said Marsha, leading the others into the living room, where they plunked down onto the twin sofas.

“Before we git’ started,” bellowed Matt, leaning forward on the couch, “this here’s supposed to be a meet n’ greet; we don’t gotta take you broads out to dinner or nothin’; am I right?”

“Right you are,” replied Marsha, her face slipping slightly. What have I done? she thought.

“Well,” said Tim, “if you girls are hungry, I’ll treat everyone. What do you say?”

At length, it was decided they would enjoy a few drinks and munch on a few snacks and chat for a while and see where that took them. Annie stood and asked what the fellows were drinking.

“Anything,” replied Tim with a smile. “Beer?”

“Got it,” said Annie. “Matt?’ she asked.

He scowled. “Aw, beer’s awright, I guess, if that’s all ya’ got. Make it a Tutankhamun Ale,” he said. Annie, who worked as a buyer for an upscale restaurant, knew that Tutankhamun Ale cost upwards of $75 per bottle.

“Sorry,” she said. “Fresh out.”

“Awright then,” he muttered with poor grace. “Whatcha got?”

“Bud Light?” she said.

Matt rolled his eyes. “Okay.”

When Annie left the room to retrieve the libations, Matt remarked to the others, “Bud Light’s that queer beer, ain’ it?” No one said anything. “Jus’ hope this don’t get back to my wife, is all…”

“Your wife!” cried Marsha. “You have a freaking wife and you’re on a dating site? What the hell, Matt?”

“Hey,” he said, “I didn’t break no rules. “The app didn’t have no questions ’bout no ball ‘n’ chain! I was honest wit’ ’em. Lookit’, I ain’t been laid in six months; but, I expect to get plenty of action tonight!” He smirked lewdly and placed his quivering hand on Marsha’s knee.

Annie took that moment to reappear, bearing four frosty bottles of beer; she handed them out.

“How did you men happen to engage this dating site?” asked Annie.

“I’ll be honest,” confided Tim. “I’ve just been so darn lonely recently. My wife Marilyn died three years ago after a long illness and I never felt ready to jump back into things, you know?” The women nodded sympathetically, but Matt rolled his eyes and made an unhappy face.

“Poor man,” murmured Marsha sympathetically.

“We want you to feel welcome, Tim,” said Annie.

“Thanks,” he told them, blushing.

“Maybe we should all face the 800 lb. gorilla in the room,” suggested Matt.

The others looked at him. “Our disabilities,” he elaborated. “Okay,” crowed Matt in a hoarse voice. “I got Parkinson’s Disease,” he revealed. “You probably never noticed, but I got them annoying little tremors and shit.”

“I never noticed,” said Marsha immediately.

“I wouldn’t have known,” said Annie.

“You would’ve had me fooled,” replied Tim.

Matt looked pleased with himself. “How ’bout you, Tim?” he inquired. “I know what it is. We been buds since high school,” he told the women. “It can be a ‘hard’ subject to ‘bring up.’ ” He laughed loudly.

“I’ve…got a prosthesis,” he revealed. “I’m still coming to grips with it, to be honest. I’d rather not elaborate any further, if it’s alright with you folks. All I’ll say is, that it works beautifully,” and he smiled confidently.

Matt grinned at the revelation and the women stared thoughtfully at the obvious bulge below Tim’s belt line, but said nothing.

Later, the couples broke off and talked among themselves on the sofas. Annie cast occasional glances at Marsha and spied her often shaking her head in negation, rolling her eyes and on one occasion, seeming to bicker with her date. As for Annie’s own companion, she felt strangely exhilerated with expectation.

By 10 o’clock, the soire broke up and the men departed at the same time. After they’d gone, the women stood in the living room, gathering up empty beer bottles and snack wrappers. Although there remained a frisson of excitement in the air, they had little to say. Finally they said their goodnights and went up the stairs to their own rooms. Promptly at midnight, a timorous knock at the door drew the attention of the person who eased the door open.

“Come in,” she said warmly, and the pair fled swiftly up the stairs. Had anyone else been awake, they would have heard a bedroom door open and then close.

At 7am, Annie stood before the stove, cooking pancakes in a large skillet. She hummed softly to herself. Into the room strode Matt, clad in Marsha’s furry bathrobe. It hung to the floor on the short man.

“Boy, am I hungry,” he said, leaning over Annie’s shoulder to observe what she was cooking. “I sure worked up an appetite last night, lemme tell you,” he boasted.

If she was surprised at seeing the loud, offensive man appear in her kitchen unannounced, Annie didn’t show it. “Take a seat,” she invited. He dropped into a chair. Next, Marsha walked in, wearing Matt’s yellow blazer and nothing else. She was covered, but just barely. She too peered over Annie’s shoulder.

“Ooh,” she said, “fix me one too, huh?” Annie said she would. Marsha proceeded directly to the table, where she planted a big kiss on Matt’s lips. Annie smiled.

A hand reached out and slapped Annie smartly on the ass. “Ow, hey!” she cried in feigned outrage, then turned her head and kissed Tim on the lips. “Pancakes, sailor?” she asked. He nodded.

Later that morning, after the men had left, Marsha and Annie sat in their familiar spots on the sofa, drinking coffee and discussing the previous evening. The issue of Matt’s abrupt personality change came up first.

“Matt,” Marsha explained, “has been emotionally damaged by coping with his neurological disorder. He only behaves obnoxiously in order to make people dislike him from the jump. That way,” she said, “he won’t be disappointed if they subsequently reject him, which he thinks they will because of his disability.”

“Does he really have a wife?” asked Annie.

“No. She left him two years ago. She couldn’t cope with his disability,” Marsha replied sadly.

Annie nodded. “Poor man,” she said. “I noted that he wasn’t so trying this morning when he came down, as opposed to last night.”

Marsha smiled, then said, “I was only a little surprised to find Tim here this morning. When did he come back?” 

“After one o’clock,” replied Annie. “About an hour after I let Matt in so he could visit you.” The women giggled happily.

“So, how did your evening go, dear?” asked Marsha.

“Fine,” replied Jewely noncommitally, sipping her coffee.

“No,” said Marsha. “You saw the man naked. You saw his gear. Is it true what Matt says, that it’s nine inches long?”

Annie looked up over her raised cup and giggled. “Closer to ten,” she said, remembering. He let me measure it.” They giggled again.

“Science is magnificent,” marvelled Marsha. “They can create anything these days.” She lowered her voice conspiratorally. “What was it like?” she whispered.

Annie blushed, then grinned widely. “It was pretty damn special, Lex,” she told her.

“Matt said he thought you’d enjoy it,” remarked Marsha. “It must be an amazing prosthesis.”

“Um?” said Annie. “His prosthesis?” She shrugged. “I suppose, but it’s not that big a deal, really.” When Marsha stared at her, Annie said, “lots of men have a prosthetic foot.”