Misconduct of the Heart by Cordelia Strube

Author:Cordelia Strube
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: ECW Press
Published: 2020-04-21T00:00:00+00:00

* * *

Wade says most male birds don’t have penises, and female birds have only one functional ovary. Copulation involves contact between their cloacae. They rub their private parts together. Female birds don’t produce milk, which means usually there is equal provisioning from both parents. He showed me an ornithologist’s vid of a Bermuda petrel’s nest. One petrel patiently warmed the egg while the other flew around in search of food. When mom or pop returned, they carefully swapped places over unhatched junior. Equal provisioning—the secret to a better world.

Desie’s back at my door. “You got servers in here?”

I close my logbook and look around. “Can’t see any.”

“You need to make them understand it’s showtime out there. They can’t go hiding in your office.”

“Desmond, house staff aren’t my responsibility.”

“If they’re in your office, they’re your responsibility. Show them the task binders.”

“Did you decide on what chicken action to take?”

“We’re postponing the World o’ Chicken menu at this location till the weekend. Panky says you’ll have chicken by then.”

“Excellent. I have a guy lined up for the chicken suit on Saturday.”

“Good, good.” He glances at his fancy watch. “I got to be downtown in twenty.”

“You’d better hustle then. Don’t worry about us.”

I close my door behind him.

The thought of Pierce and Greg holed up hungry at Tara’s—watching each other’s backs, covering windows, blocking doors, checking perimeters—plunges me into disconcerting disconnectedness. I leave my phone on full volume in case he calls.

Afghan parents wrap their dead children in blankets and scarves. Those whose sons patiently stood while being strapped into explosive vests full of metal and ball bearings collect their child’s remains in Glad garbage bags.

Conquer pushes open my door. “Olivia wants you to come for dinner.”

“Why?”

“She likes you.”

“Why?”

“Fuck if I know. What Liv wants, Liv gets. Resistance is futile.”

“I can’t tonight.”

“Why not, you hooking up with the busboy?”

“I am not hooking up with the busboy. And his name is Gyorgi.”

“Gyorgeous Gyorgi.”

“Go away.”

“Listen, we’re all for it, didn’t know you had it in you. Just don’t marry him. They all want Canadian citizenship. So, tomorrow, Liv’s. Seven.”

“Only if I can bring a child.”

“A child?”

“I’m looking after a child, as a favour. A friend’s child.”

He looks at me in that conquering way of his, no doubt suspecting I’m lying. “Liv loves kids. Seven. Don’t be late.”

If only, like enlightened Bob, I could discover my inner pathways to success, emphatically accepting my inner self, thereby allowing everyone to be true to their inner selves.

I will buy Trudy chocolate sprinkles and a post-Halloween marked-down princess dress at Walmart. This I can do.

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