chuckled. ‘Beatrice is calling it a makeover but I’m going with overhaul. Overhaul says everything we need to say.’
‘What, uh –’ Pulpy’s voice hitched, and he swallowed. ‘What do you need to say?’
‘Hey, there’s the man of the hour!’ Dan waved across the room to Al, who was kissing his wife under some of the balloons and a banner that read ‘Congratulations Al! Relax, Enjoy, Celebrate!’
‘Oh, will you look at that,’ said Beatrice. ‘Old and still in love.’
‘Pulpy has a wife,’ said Dan.
‘Do you now?’ Beatrice said to Pulpy. ‘Well, just look at you – how could you not?’
‘Um,’ said Pulpy.
‘So what do you say, Pulpy?’ said Dan. ‘Are you excited about the regime change? Out with the old and all that?’
Pulpy looked at his old boss frolicking under his decorations. He’d written ‘Spread your wings and fly!’ in Al’s retirement card, hoping it would jog his memory, but Al hadn’t opened the envelope yet and by the time he did, he wouldn’t be in charge anymore. ‘In with the new,’ he said, and blinked in the glare of Dan and Beatrice’s white grins.
When Pulpy got home, Midge had the fireplace video going.
He stood in front of their small TV set and watched the flames dance across the screen, and then Midge was behind him.
‘I pulled the space heater up,’ she said. ‘For added effect.’
Pulpy looked down at their little square heater pushing orange warmth out of its criss-crossed wires.
‘It’s a new video. I had to buy a new one because the last one was wearing out. Even with the head cleaner.’
‘It looks the same,’ he said.
‘That’s the best part! You can’t tell.’
‘It’s a good video.’
Midge took a step back. ‘Don’t say video.’
‘What? But you said video.’
‘Not once we get into it. Once you get into it you have to pretend.’
He nodded.
‘Did you eat? Because I bought this new product – it’s a way to make a whole meal all in foil. And then you just throw the foil away afterwards with no fuss and no scrubbing!’
‘Sounds good,’ said Pulpy, ‘but I had a bunch of doughnuts.’
‘Sit on the rug with me,’ she said. ‘I’ll play you something.’
They sat on their rug and Midge pulled their new electronic keyboard out from under the coffee table. She frowned down at the array of buttons along the top, then pressed one. A mournful string of notes drifted out of the tinny speaker.
‘That’s not a very happy song,’ he said. ‘I usually think of keyboard music as more uplifting.’
‘That must be the dirigible. The man at the store said there was one in there. Dirigibles aren’t supposed to be happy.’
‘I think you mean a dirge,’ he said.
‘Yes, yes, a dirge. What did I say?’
He smiled. ‘You said a dirigible. A dirigible is a boat.’
She flung her hand at him. ‘Oh, you music people with your music knowledge.’
‘I’m not a music person,’ he said. ‘I work in an office.’
‘If you make music and you’re a person, then you’re a music person. Here, let me find you something more tinkly.’ She ran her thumbs over the keys. ‘It played the prettiest ballad earlier.’
‘That’s okay,’ he said. ‘I believe you.’
‘Look at me, I’m hogging it!’ She lifted the keyboard and put it in his lap. ‘Go ahead – experiment!’
Pulpy felt the weight of the keyboard on his legs, and thought of Dan, and Dan’s wife, who along with Dan was going to do an overhaul. He put the keyboard on the floor. ‘I guess I’m just not feeling very musical right now, Midge, I’m sorry.’
‘Oh.’ She slid the keyboard back under the coffee table. ‘Well, that’s okay.’
They watched the fire on TV together for a while and then he said, ‘Al never said anything.’
Midge moved closer to him. ‘Oh, Pulpy.’
Pulpy stared at the embers. He felt tired and soft. ‘How could he forget?’
‘And the new boss didn’t say anything?’
‘He said some things, but not about the promotion.’
‘Well,’ said Midge, ‘I bet it’s only a matter of time.’
He looked at her hopeful face and imagined he could see the yellow glow reflected there. ‘You’re warm,’ he said, touching her arm.
‘It’s because of the fire,’ she said, and her hands rose up and flickered in the light.
‘Hmm,’ said Pulpy at the winter fair the next day, ‘those fish games look pretty hard.’
Midge put a hand on his back. ‘You can do it, Pulpy.’
‘I don’t want to disappoint you.’
‘You won’t.’
So Pulpy lined up and paid for his ping-pong balls, and lobbed them.
The first two missed, but the second two landed with tiny splashes in two small fishbowls with rainbow-coloured gravel and startled goldfish inside.
And Midge said, ‘You did it, twice!’
Pulpy smiled. ‘I did, didn’t I?’
She hugged him. ‘You can take one to work and I’ll keep the other one at home with me. I’m going to call our home fish Mr. Fins.’
They went home after that and when they got in the door Midge said, ‘It’ll be nice for you to have a fish at your desk. He’ll keep you company.’ Then she said, ‘Now let’s make out like banshees.’
‘What does that mean?’ said Pulpy. And he stood there holding the two fishbowls until Midge took them from him, one by one, and placed them gently on the coffee table.
‘It means,’ she said, ‘that you do things to me and I scream.’
‘Well,’ he said, ‘let’s get started, then.’
The next morning Midge
