Chapter 24
Oscar always felt like most of the significant events in his life happened to him, not because of any grand significance or skills he had, but simply because he happened to be at the right place, at the right time. Things fell onto him like the weight of a page flipping in a book, and his life was a matter of reacting to what he was dealt with. He could only laugh at the absurdity of his situation with Ramona.
Oscar had the evening ahead of him and decided to head back home to change into more appropriate attire for a party. He called Ramona asking for more instructions. After a brief phone call, Oscar learned that she was hosting a “dinner-less dinner party”, with “a few friends”, where they would have “a few drinks”. Oscar really didn’t know what to expect, or what to dress for, deciding to compromise for a simultaneously casual and formal outfit, wearing cropped trousers, a pair of loafers with no socks, a t shirt, and a matching sports jacket, whose breast pocket was decorated with a fresh rose that he would promptly give Ramona upon his arrival.
Oscar breathed heavily on the walk from the liquor store to Ramona’s apartment, carrying a backpack stuffed with various sodas, juices, mixers, and limes, two overfilled tote bags with bottles of gin, vodka, and rum on each shoulder, and three boxes of cheap beer that he stacked and balanced on both hands. Mentally, he prepared for what would be the first social encounter with a group of people, outside of work, that he would actively be engaging with, since he could last remember. He thought about which questions would make him more agreeable, and which anecdotes or stories he could share that wouldn’t be too long or uninteresting.
Attempting to think of any last ideas for talking points, Oscar observed the cracked white paint of the exterior of Ramona’s building, whose shape resembled a milk carton, complete with perfectly squared windows riddled throughout, and a faded blue decorative stripe of paint that would presumably feature the logo of said milk company. From the outside he could hear the voices of both men and women swimming in what sounded like the muffled bass and drums of old school break beats on a pair of speakers. He managed to knock twice on the tall, wooden door of apartment 403, when Ramona, in one swift motion, swung open the door, kissed his cheek, and grabbed him by the shoulder, pulling him in before he could lay down the third knock. She collected his bags and led him to her living room.
“Sit here while I make you a drink. I’ll be right back.”
The room was dark, illuminated only by a purple light bulb in the corner opposite of Oscar, and a messy web of Christmas lights messily placed the edge of the wall. Oscar was in a spectator’s chair: a red-velvet loveseat that resembled a heart. Ramona had turned out of sight past his peripheral vision and into the kitchen, sporting a white one-shouldered dress, with black combat boots tied up to her shins, and a gold armlet on her arm with the revealed shoulder. Much like everything she did, the steps in her walk were short and defined, as if everything she did was done in a hurry. Oscar caught the last glimpse of a long row of ring piercings ranging from her forward helix to the tip of her lobe, exposed by a stylishly side-swept hairdo, reminding him of the woman on the bus from earlier. Despite the loud music, Oscar could still hear Ramona’s loud voice projecting from the kitchen. Feeling like a spectator, as he usually did on the subway, Oscar swept the room with his eyes, his skin subconsciously blending into the red fabric of the loveseat he sat on. Through the darkness and music, he could identify multiple people, whose voices could be distinguished while they were the only ones in focus. The center of the living room was covered in a series of multi-patterned rugs and cowhides, absent of any coffee tables or furniture. There was an undecorated Christmas tree in the corner, and besides it glasses panel through a couple could be seen arguing out on the balcony. The edges of the walls were spotted with houseplants, large-framed canvas paintings, and metal foldable chairs that seemed to be distributed for the purpose of the party.
“Look, it’ll be easier if you just move like you need to pee.”
Oscar was now focusing on the two women standing above the rugs and next to an improvised sound system that was laid out on the floor beside them. One of them seemed to be teaching the other how to dance.
“What?”
“If you move like you need to pee really bad, you know, bouncing around and pressing your knees together, it’ll look like you’re really good at dancing. Bouncing and bending your knees is the most important part. Watch me.”
The shorter girl danced around the living room, moving her hips, and bouncing rhythmically with the music, wearing a pair of white overalls that puffed above the knees, tucked into a pair of caramel-colored boots. The tall girl besides her was bony and lanky, with well-defined shoulders, kneecaps, and elbow joints accentuated by long and slender limbs. She wore a short-black skirt with a tucked-in t-shirt and high-heeled ankle boots. Her short-red hair bounced as she tried to follow along with her friend. The couple outside continued to argue; the woman angrily holding up a crumpled piece of paper over the man’s face, while he crossed his arms and spoke back through raised eyebrows. Oscar observed all of this quietly, waiting for Ramona to prepare his drink in the kitchen. Up until that point, no one had bothered to introduce themselves or question why a stranger would be sitting in on their party, saying absolutely nothing. There was only one other person, sitting beside the Christmas tree on one of the folded metal chairs, rolling up a cigarette with a filter in his mouth, and a silver Great Dane lying next to him, head-down, with his yellow eyes quietly observing the girls dancing. Oscar’s quiet observation was interrupted by the sound of Ramona’s loud voice emerging from the kitchen.
“Drinks are ready!”
He turned around and saw her, holding multiple martini glasses in each hand, adorned with miniature pink umbrellas, walking hastily towards the back of the room trying not to spill the drinks as she distributed them to the patrons. Oscar had turned around to watch her, when suddenly a new member of the party sat on the loveseat next to him, likely coming from the kitchen along with Ramona.
“Hi.”
She turned towards him on the seat, legs crossed, arm resting on the back of the chair, head in hand. Oscar was taken aback by the sudden appearance.
“Hi.”
“Is that it?” The new girl asked impatiently.
“Well, I don’t know what else to say. My name is—"
“I like your face,” she started twirling one of the tentacles resting on Oscar’s jacket.
“Do people do this often? Play with your tentacles?”
Oscar could only look and focus on her thin, pencil-drawn eyebrows, and short-gelled hair that was somehow still curly and parted at the middle. She wore a sleeveless red dress, gold hoop earrings, and a single pink garter with a heart pattern printed throughout.
“I bet it must feel weird, doesn’t it?” She said, slowly twirling the tentacle around her finger until it started to hurt.
Oscar’s color faded into a warm pink, embarrassed and not sure what to say.
“You’re so adorable!”
She burst out laughing and pat his chest, letting go of the tentacle before resting her back on the loveseat and looking towards the party like Oscar was. Ramona had just finished stepping over the rugs as she handed Oscar his drink and turned back towards the room.
“Hello?” Ramona announced in a loud voice that pierced through the music.
“Did none of your whores really introduce yourselves to Oscar?”
The man sitting beside the Christmas tree broke away from the cigarette he was rolling and looked up towards Oscar giving him a small nod. The couple on the balcony continued dancing; the girls on the rugs continued dancing in the middle of the room.
“Move over.”
Oscar scooted over on the love seat, pressed between Ramona and the new girl he had just spoken with.
“Listen, they’re all a bunch of idiots, but they’re my friends, so I’ll give you the rundown. The couple outside are Martina and Bruno, they’re always fighting because Bruno’s an idiot, and Martina’s too afraid to let him go. She’s a super sexy model who’s traveled the world and speaks five languages. Bruno never does anything to hurt Martina intentionally, he’s just dumb, and usually he’s a total sweetheart bimbo. They’re definitely getting married one day. The tall girl trying to dance is called Monica Bellucci, she’s never seen any of her movies, and she doesn’t really look like her, but that’s what we call her. We call her Moni Bee for short, but her real name is Angie. The girl that can actually dance is Marcy, she’s an angel. Moni Bee and Marcy dated a few years ago, but now they’re in a weird semi-romantic, mostly-platonic relationship-friendship thing. Over there by the tree is Roy and his dog Daz; Roy’s really quiet, so Daz does all the talking for him. And finally, there’s me, you, and my best friend, Cici, who’s sitting right next to you.”
“I like your friend, Ramona.” Said Cici, smiling and putting a hand on his chest starting to curl one of his tentacles again.
“Please stop terrorizing the poor man, Cecilia. It’s bad enough that he has to put up with my insanity let alone yours.”
“What’s in these drinks anyway, Ramona? I love it.”
“It’s like fruity and bubbly and electric I literally feel it giving me LIFE right now.”
“Oh, it’s a vodka cranberry with lime and orange soda.” Answered Ramona.
“You spent ten minutes to make six vodka crans?”
“Girl, you were in the kitchen with me; You didn’t notice? You know I don’t know how to cook or make anything else, leave me alone. I added the umbrellas and put them in a martini glass to make them look fancy.”
“Well, I liked it.” Oscar interjected awkwardly.
“See, this is why I like you.” Ramona gave Oscar a peck on the cheek.
“Come on, Ramona. You know you love me too.” Smiled Cici.
“Shut up, rat. I hate you.”
“Anyways,” Ramona stood up from the loveseat and onto the carpeted living room to turn off the speakers Moni Bee and Marcy were still listening to. She grabbed a snuff spoon from one of the foldable metal chairs, covered in empty cans of beers and dried liquids, and tapped her martini glass until it cracked.
“Okay, friends, I told everyone to look nice today for our party, so I thought I’d make a speech. First of all, I love all of you, and you’re all very near and dear to my heart. We’re all a bunch of brambling idiots, but you’re my brambling idiots, and I appreciate that. And to that, we drink!” Ramona held up her broken martini glass, “Cheers!”
The room cheered, and Cici challenged Oscar that to see who would manage to down their beverage first. Before he was halfway through, he spit out the mimosa, as Martina burst through the balcony door, bringing all eyes to her and pushing in the cool winter breeze into the living room.
“Oh, so you’re calling me a liar, right?” Martina had dashed across the room and turned on the living room lights. For the first time, Oscar could clearly see how charming Ramona’s apartment was, and how much of a rag-tag group her crew was.
“If you’re so convinced that I’m crazy, why don’t you read this note I found on your nightstand out loud to everyone, and ask them what they think?”
“But Martina, you don’t have to do this.” Urged Bruno, in an Italian accent.
“Yes, you do! If you really loved me, you would sit down, and read this note out loud for everyone to see that I’m not crazy.”
“Che palle…” Bruno took a seat and exhaled as he snatched the paper from her hand.
Ramona and her crew waited with baited breaths, not out of fear or anxiety, but rather out of curiosity and schadenfreude at what could potentially be on that note.
“Well?” Ramona asked, urging Bruno to hurry up and read the note.
“Well…” Bruno cleared his throat, and began reading:
Dear Bruno,
You had a lot to drink last night, so you may not remember me giving you a blowjob. I must inform you that I have in fact tested positive for Hepatitis B. Please get tested.
-Violet
Moments passed, and one could only hear the sound of Bruno crumpling the paper in his hand as he took a deep inhale through his nose. Daz perked his ears in anticipation. The room burst into laughter, with Moni Bee and Marcy rolling on the ground besides each other. Bruno turned bright read, purposefully ignoring the crowd, and focusing on Martina’s angry face. Her nostrils flared.
“Oh, so you guys think this is funny?” Martina broke her composure, addressing the room, but tearing down Bruno with her eyes alone.
“That’s fantastic, that’s really fucking fantastic knowing that you think I’m nothing but a joke.”
“Calm down, Martina.” Cici jumped from the loveseat, and to put her arms around Martina’s shoulders to calm her down.
Brushing off Cici’s hand, Martina raised her voice, “Don’t tell me to calm down after you just laughed at me. You’re clearly on his side.”
Ramona interjected, “Okay but you need to admit it does sound kind of funny from an outside perspective.”
“I’m leaving,” exclaimed Martina, picking up her purse from one of the chairs, knocking over a few empty cans of beer in the process.
“And anyway, who’s this ugly motherfucker right here?” Martina signaled towards Oscar with a disgusted face.
“But I didn’t even—” Oscar tried defending himself.
“Don’t talk to me. I said I’m leaving.” Martina stormed out of Ramona’s apartment and slammed the door.
Another moment of silence passed, and Oscar turned as he heard Ramona cracking open a beer can from the other end of the living room.
“Okay, whatever that was, I’ll drink to that.” Ramona announced, and the dinner party came back to life. After many beers, mimosas, and a few hours later, Oscar woke up by the feeling of Daz lapping his moist face. He jolted awake, and realized he was still laying on the loveseat sandwiched in between Bruno and Cici, with his arms over each of their shoulders. Roy was out on the balcony, smoking a cigarette in the company of both Moni Bee and Marcy, who were making out next to him, as he watched the sunrise. Ramona seemed to be finishing cleaning up the beer cans in a plastic bag and scrubbing a questionable stain on one of the cowhide rugs.
“What happened? I can’t remember anything from last night” Oscar asked Ramona, holding his head.
“Well, Bruno looked absolutely awful after what happened, so we started playing Italian drinking games to cheer him up.”
“But why would we help cheer him up? It sounds like he cheated on her, didn’t he?”
“No...” continued Ramona, spraying a rug with stain remover, “It was all just a big misunderstanding, it was an old note he kept from a few years ago as a keepsake. But he would never cheat on Martina... although she always thinks he’s trying to. He really likes you I think.” Ramona paused her scrubbing, “Well, I think we all do.”
Oscar smiled and faded back in and out of sleep for a few more minutes.
The remaining members of the party eventually left, and Ramona helped him up and into her bedroom.
“Poor baby, you look all green.”
Oscar feebly raised a drunken tentacle in front of his face and let her place him onto her bed. Ramona’s room was unlike the rest of the house and maintained a simple yet comfortable aesthetic. The walls were empty, and Oscar could catch the last glimpses of her light-colored wooden floor, cream-colored bedsheets, and the brick-walled façade of a building outside her window.
“Hey,” said Oscar, gaining a lapse of momentary lucidity.
Ramona had just finished unlacing her boots while sitting on the bed beside him and looked over.
“I forgot to give you this.”
Oscar pawed at his chest, just barely managing to pull out a crumpled rose from his jacket’s breast pocket.
“I got you this,” Oscar’s eyes slumped, and he quickly lit back up with a hiccup, “I forgot to give it to you earlier.”
Ramona pouted and took the flower carefully in her hands and placed it on the nightstand beside them. Fading in and out of consciousness, Oscar managed to note the beauty of Ramona’s beak as she pulled up the covers, slipping into the bed with him, and wrapping him in the warmth of her arms and legs, like a sloth hanging from a tree. He embraced her in his own tentacles, and they fell asleep together.
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