Girlfriend in a coma Read Free Page B

start talking like that, just pull the plug."
Slaphappy Hamilton, beanstalk-tall, black-booted, bolo-corded, with hands as big as frying pans, appeared from behind, saying, "Richard: It's imperative we check the party right now, man. The house is just getting demolished. Hey there, Pammie ..." Pam stuck out her tongue. He and Pammie had been blowing hot and cold for three years; that night, they were in a cold spell. Hamilton turned back to me: "If we don't rescue Linus, he'll be cat food by midnight. It's berserk down there. Besides, Mr. Liver here wants a drink." Hamilton squeezed the side of his stomach; below us something lurched and crashed.
Pam asked the sky, "Why do I have to like aloof jerks who couldn't care less if I exist? Please, O gods of love, send me a winner next time."
    We all discussed skiing for a while, and I felt myself pulling back, again looking at Karen, Wendy, and Pam. As a trio, they resembled three different-looking sisters, but sisters nonetheless. They called themselves Charlie's Angels, but then, so did many other trios of girlfriends at that time.Personalities.
I sometimes wonder what can be said of people when they are young, whether the full expression of their personalities is truly discernible. Do we even offer hints? Do murderers seem like murderers at eighteen? Do stockbrokers? Waiters? Millionaires? An egg hatches. What will emerge - a cygnet? a crocodile? a turtle?
Wendy: wide shoulders earned on the swim team, a friendly, earnest, square, slightly mannish face capped with a chocolate-brown wedge cut. Hamilton and I once tried to pin down Wendy's looks, and Hamilton wasn't far wrong when he said she looked like she was twenty-seventh in line to the British throne. At our family Christmas party every year, when introducing ourselves to the older crowd, Wendy always said, "I'm the smart one." And she was.
Pam (Pamela, Pammie, Pameloid): thin as water streaming from a tap, a perfect oval face, a face like a tourist attraction crowned with a wispy corn-silk Farrah perm. Glamour vixen Pammie: eyes always looking a bit farther than your own: "Whatcha lookin' at,Pam?""Oh-just.Something.Upthere.Intheclouds."
Karen: small face with straight brown hair parted in the center. Moss-green eyes. As comfortable with boys as with girls. A guy's gal. Skiing? Touch football? Wounded animal needs mending? Call Karen.
As a trio, their six arms were perennially crossed over either brown leather or down jackets, hands clasping purses full of high-tar cigarettes; Dmetre ski sweaters reeking of Charlie perfume, sugarless gum, and sweet-smelling hair. Clean and free and sexy and strong.
Karen asked for a drink and Wendy said, "Are you sure you want to drink, Kare? I mean you're looking kinda frail. All you've eaten today is a Ritz cracker and half a can of Tab. Let's go to my place and get something."
Pammie said, "Don't say that - don't tempt me - because I'll be the one who ends up eating too much." She paused: "Is there much in your fridge?"
    Karen ignored them. She climbed into my Datsun to put a new lace in her runners just as I walked to the car to get my sweater. I saw Karen slip two pills from her makeup compact into her mouth. Shecaught me catching her. So she stuck out her tongue jokingly. "It's ValleyoftheDolls, I know, Richard - but let's see you in a sizefive bikini." I could feel myself trying to mold my face into a nonjudg-mental scrunch; I lost.
"Christ, it's only Valium. It's totally legal. My mom gave them to me." She was slightly angry at my having caught her. I think it made her seem less in control. I said, "Karen, I think you look great; you've got a great body, you're perfect the way you are. And I should know ..." I winked, but I think it looked dirty, not friendly. "You're nuts to even think about dieting."
"Richard, that's sweet, you're the bestest, bestest boyfriend on Earth, and I really do appreciate it. But listen: It's a girl thing. Drop it, okay?" At least she was smiling. She