Pulpy and Midge. Jessica Westhead

those are pleated. Where there are a lot of creases it’s pleats. I’m just looking for a single crease, down the front of each leg.’

      ‘There you go,’ she said. ‘That wasn’t so hard, was it?’

      ‘She said she’d love to come,’ Pulpy told Dan after lunch.

      ‘Great!’ Dan clapped his big hands, once. ‘So it’s ten-fifty each. Usually they’re twelve but I got a deal. You can pay me later if you don’t have exact change. I don’t have any cash on me right now. Take a load off!’ Dan pointed at the two buttery leather chairs by his door.

      Pulpy sat in one and was engulfed.

      ‘That’s nice, isn’t it? Did I or did I not say I was going to bring in chairs? These ones over here, they’re not quite as comfy but they’re just as expensive.’ Dan indicated the two hard-backed chairs in front of his desk, where Al’s couch had been.

      ‘Looks like quality wood,’ said Pulpy.

      ‘That they are. That they are indeed.’ Dan leaned back. ‘So, about your lateness this morning – the secretary tells me this is a chronic problem with you. What was it you were saying about the bus earlier?’

      Pulpy nodded fast. ‘The bus driver wouldn’t leave the station until I stepped over the line.’

      ‘Those buses will be the death of us all,’ said Dan. ‘And that secretary is a snoop. She should mind her own business.’ He looked at his watch. ‘Well, back to work.’

      ‘Yes.’ Pulpy blinked, and heaved himself out of the chair. ‘Back to it.’

      ‘Do you have any food for this fish?’ asked the receptionist when Pulpy walked past her desk at the end of the day.

      ‘I do. I guess I forgot to give it to you.’ He found his coat in the closet and dug the small shaker of fish food out of his pocket.

      ‘I’m practising positive self-talk.’ She tapped a fingernail on the fishbowl without looking at it. ‘It says here you can only put eight ounces into an eight-ounce glass.’ She smoothed out the seminar flyer. ‘What that means is, you can’t fill it higher, so don’t even try.’

      He handed her the fish food. ‘Dan said, um, he said you told him I was late all the time.’

      She pushed open the dispenser and sniffed inside. ‘Well, you are, aren’t you?’

      ‘I’m not saying I’m not. It’s just that –’

      ‘All I’m hoping to communicate to you is that there is a new boss now, and you should try to make a good impression. I’m trying to help you. It’s all about reframing, that’s what the flyer talks about.’

      ‘I suppose that’s one way to see it, but I still don’t think –’

      She set the shaker down and rolled it across her desk. ‘I could use a little reframing myself these days.’

      ‘You could?’ He slid his arms into his coat sleeves and was relieved that they were finally dry.

      ‘Work and home,’ she said. ‘That’s all there is. I get up, I go to work, I go home. Repeat.’

      ‘We all do the same thing.’ Pulpy put his hands in his pockets.

      ‘That’s exactly it. Eight ounces. But.’ She wagged her finger at him, cutting a pink streak through the air. ‘It all comes down to how you envision yourself, the flyer says. You can dramatically alter your view of your situation with a few simple exercises.’

      ‘How?’ He flattened his hands inside the scratchy hollows of his coat. ‘What does it say to do?’

      She shrugged. ‘That’s what they teach you at the seminar.’

      When Pulpy got home, Midge was waiting for him in the bedroom. She held the men’s store bag upside down over their bed and three pairs of pants slid out: one brown, one grey and one black.

      ‘I found three for you and none for me,’ she said. ‘How do you like that?’

      ‘I thought you were only getting me one pair.’

      ‘I thought you could try them on and see which one you like best.’

      ‘But we have to meet Dan and Beatrice soon.’

      ‘They can wait.’ She pushed the pants toward him. ‘Try them on.’

      ‘Okay.’ He took the pants into the bathroom and closed the door. A minute or so later he opened it again and came out wearing the grey ones.

      ‘Ooh,’ said Midge. ‘Those are nice.’

      Pulpy smiled a little and stood straight, then lifted one leg. ‘I like them.’

      ‘They fit really well.’

      ‘Let me try on another pair.’ He modelled the brown ones for her next.

      ‘Well now,’ she said, and sat down on the bed. ‘I have to sit down for this!’

      ‘Last pair!’ he said, and walked back into the bathroom. He emerged wearing the black pants.

      She threw one hand across her forehead and fell back on the bed. Midge had a forehead you could get lost in. ‘I want you to make love to me wearing only those pants and nothing else.’

      ‘All right,’ he said, ‘but then we really have to go.’

      ‘There they are,’ said Pulpy. ‘That’s them. Over there, by the blow-up elephant.’

      ‘That’s a nice elephant.’

      ‘It is. I guess it’s one of the characters.’

      Midge was taking baby steps. ‘Oh, Pulpy, it’s slippery. Would you –’

      He took her arm, and then they were in front of Dan and Beatrice.

      ‘Hi, Dan. Hi, Beatrice,’ said Pulpy. ‘This is my wife, Midge.’

      ‘Ah-ha!’ said Dan. ‘So you’re the little lady who’s been distracting our boy in the mornings.’

      ‘Pardon?’ said Midge.

      ‘Actually, Dan,’ said Pulpy, ‘it’s not Midge who makes me late.’ He glanced between his wife and his boss. ‘It’s not her fault, it’s the buses, like I was telling you.’

      ‘I know how it is.’ Dan winked at them and slapped the nylon flank of the inflatable elephant behind him. ‘Beatrice and I used to get up to all sorts of things before leaving for work. Didn’t we, honey?’

      Beatrice rolled her eyes. ‘Notice how he says “used to.”’

      ‘Ho-ho!’ said Dan.

      Midge gaped at them.

      ‘When we first got together people said we acted like we were the only two people in the world,’ said Beatrice.

      ‘And now she says I don’t even know she exists!’ said Dan. ‘Har!’

      ‘There’s something different about you, Pulpy.’ Beatrice pursed her lips. ‘I can’t put my finger on it.’

      ‘He’s wearing new pants,’ said Midge.

      Beatrice put her hands on her hips and ogled Pulpy’s lower half. ‘Oh my, yes, those are sharp. They’re a bit like Dan’s, aren’t they?’

      Pulpy shuffled in place. ‘Shall we go in?’

      ‘Yes, let’s,’ said Beatrice, and turned to Midge. ‘Your man here is full of good ideas, do you know that?’

      ‘Hmm,’ said Midge.

      They walked into the arena, and Midge grabbed Pulpy’s arm and started to breathe faster.