e.e. Cummings

Contributor: Eric Boyd

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(an excerpt from the novel Multiplex)


Augie was having an art show. Like any good painter, he whored himself out to everyone he knew, including me, to bring people for his opening. “Fredrick, after that first night,” he said, “I don’t care who comes. Anyone can come; I hope a lot of people do. As long I get enough people to buy back my rent on the gallery, I’m happy.”

The gallery, Artplace 107, was about twenty feet square, with a backroom and toilet. Augie had paid four hundred dollars to have it rented out for a month. That was the minimum he could pay, he told me.

The rent on the space was six hundred, with the gallery getting a flat fifteen percent of all of his sales. For five hundred the gallery received twenty percent until the balance was met and the regular fifteen after that. Augie paid them four hundred at thirty percent, plus the fifteen when the balance was met. Augie wasn’t much of a businessman, but he cared about his work, and that was more than I could say for myself. I had been working at the movie theater for almost a year, and I hadn’t written anything most of that time.

Artplace 107 was on Eighth Avenue, which was right by the theater. I could walk there easily, and Augie knew that, so there was no chance of me skipping his opening. He had asked me if I knew anyone to bring; I said I didn’t. The gallery had board members who would all attend the opening, as well as some local press. I didn’t see why Augie wanted me to find people at all. Why couldn’t he? I didn’t have any friends and he knew that.

“Who in the hell am I supposed to bring?” I asked on the telephone.
“How should I know? Just bring a few people.”
“Do you plan on having any cocktail weenies or spiked punch?”
“Probably not; I’ve spent enough money as it is, Fredrick.”
“Then why would I even want to go?”
“Bring a few people,” he said before hanging up.


A week before the opening, Augie hounding me more and more, I remembered Theo, whom I had gone to school with in Iowa. Theo was a nice enough guy; we never talked too much, but he always wanted an excuse to visit me. He lived in Washington DC, which wasn’t too bad of a drive to Pittsburgh. I gave him a call.
“Hello?”
“Hey Theo, it’s Fredrick.”
“Oh heyy, what’s up? I didn’t think you would ever call me, man.”
“Well I didn’t really have any reason for you to visit. I do now, though. My buddy, he’s having an art show, and he wants people to see his work. Want to come up?”
“What kind of stuff?” he asked.
“Paintings. Abstract, more or less. He uses airplane glue and ink on canvas. It’s interesting, I guess.”
“That sounds cool. Can I bring a friend?”
“The more the merrier; I was gonna ask you to bring someone, as a matter of fact.”
“Okay, give me the info and I’ll make sure I’m not working or anything.”


I told Theo the date and time and address and where to park. He asked me where he and his friend would be staying for the night, and figuring I was able to tell him everything else so easily, I said we’d all be sleeping at the gallery. Theo was happy enough with that idea, and I just hoped Augie would be, too.

“You told him he could stay at the gallery?!” Augie shouted.
“You ask me to bring people! You beg me, and this is the thanks I get?”
“How can I let him stay there by himself?”
“He won’t be by himself; he’s bringing someone else.”
“Now it’s two people? I’m supposed to let two strangers stay at the gallery?”
“Don’t be stupid; I’ll stay with them.”
Augie paused for a moment. “I think I’d rather just have the strangers there.”
“Uh-huh. Make sure you bring cocktail weenies. See you in a few nights. I’ll wear a dickey.”


The next Friday I stood outside of the gallery, waiting for Theo. The gallery was next to the Grays Bridge, which came from downtown Pittsburgh, and I figured Theo would be coming off of that to park in front of the gallery on Eighth Avenue. Instead, he parked on Seventh Avenue, behind the gallery and under the bridge; he walked up the steps and met me at the corner of the building.
“Fredrick!”
“Hey Theo, how ya been?”
“Good, man. Good.”
Theo looked well. He had shaggy hair, was on the bigger side, and kept his facial hair loose. Compared to my trimmed mustache and flipped back hair, he must have looked like a bum. That was what I counted on when I saw Elisa.

Elisa was the ‘friend’ Theo told me he was going to be bringing. He wanted to get her alone for a weekend, which was fine by me. Elisa was in porno, Theo told me, and I could see why. Her face wasn’t much, but her figure was made for it. Her tits were large and round, but firm. Her ass bumped out just enough. And since this was an art show opening, she decided to wear a tight black dress and expensive looking heels. Theo said she was in porno and that her family was rich. I was glad I wore a blazer.
“Hii,” Elisa said.
“Hello. I’m Fredrick. Theo and I went to school together.”
“He told me,” she smiled.
Immediately Theo felt uncomfortable. As soon as Elisa had walked up behind him, he seemed unnerved. He should have worn a blazer, too.
“So you’re not the artist?” she asked.
“No, ‘fraid not. He’s in there with the board members. There’s plenty of people in there, actually. Augie did well.”
“You’re not an artist at all?”
“Well everybody is in their own way!” Theo exclaimed. “You know I draw a little and…”
“Theo, please. I was talking to him,” she said, looking at me with big green eyes.
“I’m not really even sure what that means. Maybe I am? Who knows. I like movies, I work at the movie theater down there,” I pointed down and across the way, “and I write sometimes. Hell, maybe I am an artist.”
“Hey, well, yeah; let’s go look at the show,” Theo interrupted.
“Yeah, I guess so,” I said.


The paintings were okay. I didn’t really know anything about, but I liked what Augie was going for. The paintings were all ‘memories’, he said, and that was enough explanation for me. They were lumpy and drippy and splattered with ink. If they weren’t like memories, they were like life. Everyone seemed excited about the work; I was excited that there were weenies on toothpicks at the front of the gallery.

Corrine was able to make it to the opening and I miserable because of it. She looked stunning as usual, but I was tired of her. She was tall and leggy and thought she was a model, but so what? I couldn’t take living with an anorexic any longer. Elisa, who was new, was trying to talk to me all night; but I had to deal with Corrine, who was becoming desperate to have me stay with her. I had been living with her for too long, and she knew I was looking for my own apartment. It was driving her mad. I didn’t want to talk about those things, though. I just wanted to let Augie have a nice night.

It was nearly midnight when the gallery closed. Everyone seemed very happy, except Theo, who spent most of his time chasing Elisa around, bringing her drinks and snacks. Corrine tried to stay with me, but I was lucky that she had to work at the grocery store early the next morning. Augie sold three of his twelve paintings, which was enough for the gallery to recoup their two hundred on the original six. A friend of a board member gave Augie a bottle of booze; however, he didn’t drink, so the bottle was left in the backroom.

Elisa seemed to love the paintings, and even offered to buy one, but it was already sold. She pouted for a while, but Augie didn’t seem interested. Theo was clearly becoming more and more frustrated as Elisa flirted with everyone but him. If he couldn’t crack her on the car ride from DC, I thought, he never would. She may have done porn, but she wasn’t into Theo, no matter how hard he tried. Some girls are made to tease some men.

Before leaving, Augie gave me a key to the gallery and made me promise a lot of things I couldn’t remember. Theo brought sleeping bags, including one for me, and set up on the floor; he placed Elisa’s sleeping bag very close to his. She moved it. He tried laying down on his, complained that too much streetlight was in his eyes, and moved his bag closer to hers. She moved hers again. Mine was near the door to the backroom, in case I needed to use the toilet in the middle of the night.
“I’ve never been to Pittsburgh,” Elisa told me, putting on her jacket as we walked outside.
I told the both of them I was show them around the city. It was winter and Theo’s car was slow to start; it grumbled as much as he did as Elisa helped me button my blazer.
“You smart, then,” I said to her, “it’s not much to have been to.”
“Well what’s there to do around here?”
“Let’s go to Parmanni’s.”
“What’s that?” he asked.
“It’s a sandwich place; they’re all over Pittsburgh. There’s one that not really in the city, but it’s closer to here.”
“Okay.”


Parmanni’s was famous for putting a bunch of crap on their sandwiches, none of which I ever ate. They put French fries and coleslaw on the sandwich, as well as whatever the sandwich originally was; I always ordered my sandwiches plain, and the people there didn’t like that. I only ever went to Parmanni’s when I was with other people. I couldn’t stand the place otherwise. Theo asked for a booth. We all ordered water, as it was free. For food Theo ordered a steak and cheese, all the trimmings; Elisa ordered a grilled chicken on a bun, no coleslaw; I ordered a plain pastrami on rye.

Waiting for our sandwiches, Theo and I shot pool. Elisa, pretending like she didn’t know how to play the game, screwed around on a pinball machine for a while.
“How do you play this?” she finally asked me, after a few games.
“It’s easy; I’ll show ya.” If she was going to be cliché enough to pretend she couldn’t play, I would be cliché enough to show her. Why not? Why not show a pornstar how to work a pool cue?

I put the cue in her hand and helped her line up a shot, my body behind hers. My right hand was on top of hers as she held the cue, and with my left I pushed her head down toward the table to eye up the balls.

Our food came. Theo went to our booth in disgust. Elisa and I stayed at the pool table.

Elisa bent down and got back up, and then again. She bent up and down several times, looked over her shoulder at me.
“Do I hit it hard?” she asked.
“It depends. All you have open is the two-ball in the side pocket, but that’s if you bank the shot.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s a trick shot, sort of. I’d hit it hard on a trick shot, yeah. Let ‘er rip.”
Elisa shot, banked the two-ball, and just missed the side pocket.
“Well, ya can’t get ‘em all,” I said.
“I got enough.”
She looked down, smiled, and walked away. What did that mean? I looked down and my cock was pressing halfway down my pants.


After we finished our food, Theo said he was too tired to do anything else, so we went back to the gallery. He asked Elisa if she wanted to listen to any music and she said no. He insisted, playing a mixtape he had made of her favorite songs. She didn’t seem impressed. I sat quietly in the backseat of the car.

When we got back to the gallery, Theo tried to set up his sleeping bag next to Elisa’s one more time. She moved hers, and every time he moved his closer to hers, she moved hers closer to mine. After a while Theo gave up.
“Is everyone ready to lay?” Elisa asked.
“You’re sick, you know that?” Theo said, almost laughing in spite of himself. “I have to use the bathroom.”

As soon as Theo went into the backroom, Elisa jumped on top of me, shoving her tongue down my throat. I wasn’t that shocked, but could I do this to Corrine? That fragile thing, I thought. She and her family had taken me in, given me a room, fed me. Elisa’s arms, wrapped around my neck, holding herself up, pressed her tits together. Could I really do this to Corrine? That fragile thing…

My cock began to get hard again.

That bitch Corrine tricked me, I thought. She forced me to stay with her and her crazy family. She took a vibrator into my room, embarrassed me. She said I chewed too loud and that was why she didn’t eat. She cut me with a goddamn butcher knife over a Snickers bar.

Still holding Elisa up, I put a hand under her dress, fingering her, feeling her moan as her tongue slipped in and out of my mouth. Her eyes rolled back. The whole bit. Pornstars get paid to fake it, but I had no money and she was still convincing.

The toilet flushed. Elisa got off of me before Theo came back out from the restroom. I wiped my fingers on Elisa’s dress.
“What are you two up to?”
“What do you mean?” I asked sharply, sweating a little.
“I don’t know.. You’re just standing there.”
Elisa walked over to her backpack and bent down to pick it up. Theo forgot what he was saying while looking at her tits.
“We were just standing her, waiting for you. What else are we doing tonight?”
“I, um… I’m not sure. We already went out and everything. What else can we do around here, Fredrick?”
“Augie said we could have that bottle of jagermiester. He hates the stuff.”
“I’ve never had it,” Theo said, “doesn’t it have blood in it?”
“Probably, but what doesn’t?” I laughed.


I drank until standing became difficult, which wasn’t much. Elisa was good for most of the bottle, and Theo finished the rest. Of the three of us Theo was the worst off. He started getting touchy with Elisa, which I didn’t like because she clearly wasn’t interested. I distracted him by talking about the old days in Iowa.
“Do you remember that café?”
“Yeah, yeah!” he shouted happily, “the Café Paradise! You went there all the time.”
“Well the people I hung around did. It was always me, Hanna, JoBeth, Brian, and sometimes Pat, though he was usually drunk in his dorm room.”
“I always liked Hanna,” Theo burped.
“I liked JoBeth, that was usually why I went to the café.”
“Ehh, her laugh was so loud, and she looked kinda big, too big for me. I mean, she wasn’t fat, just big.”
“Classical, I’d say. She was a big old farmer’s daughter, but she sung jazz. Com’on, how can’t you like that?”
“Yeah,” Theo nodded, “I guess. I guess so. I guess.” He began moving his head back and forth. A comfortable buzz; he was ready to pass out. “You… Went?”
“Went where?”
“Straaawberry Fields? You --hiccup-- Remember?”
“Yeah I went there sometimes, that big field…” I turned to Elisa, who was sitting with us, silent. “At the school in Iowa, they had a big field where strawberries grew, so, y’know, of course all of the college kids go there and have drum circles, the whole bit.”
“That sounds fun.”
“I can think of more fun things.” I said.
“Me too.” she smiled.
“LIKE WHAT? Let’s go sled riding!” Theo yelled.
“We don’t have any sleds.”
“We’ll go down a hill on a paiiiinnting.”
“No, we won’t.” I said sternly.
Theo hiccupped. “Strawberrrrrryyyyyy Fieeeellllds.”
“Yeah, right. I went there when they had the big fire, everyone was there. JoBeth was singing Betty Boop songs and they all had me play harmonica. At the end of the night they tried to get me to walk through the fire, but I wouldn’t do it. They’re crazy out there, I think. I should have went back.”
Elisa reached into her backpack and pulled out some paper, a stamped envelope, and started writing a letter.
“I should have just went back.” I said again.
“What’s this town called?” Elisa asked.
“Homestead,” I said, “Why? Who’s the letter for?”
“My parents. They like getting stuff like this.”
“Richh bastards!” Theo shouted.
“Oh shut up.”
“I liiked the fieeeellllds.” Theo said to me.
“I did too.” I said, patting Theo on the shoulder before he turned around, falling asleep. I got into my sleeping bag and began to close my eyes. Elisa finished her letter, put it in the envelope, and turned the envelope down on the floor. “Look at this,” She said to me as I tried to keep my eyes open.

She held a long piece of dark red wax over the flap of the envelope and flicked a lighter under it. The wax melted and dripped onto the envelope until there was a little puddle over the flap. Elisa took a small brass stamp with a wooden handle out of her backpack and pressed it down on the wax; it made a crest with her family’s last name and a picture of some kind of exotic animal against the wax. It was a bird or a lion or a something. Elisa held the letter up, showing me the crest, and winked.

Of all the things that girl could show me before I went to sleep, I didn’t think that was one of them.




“Psst.”
I was dreaming about Elisa sucking on my—
“Pssssst.”
I opened my eyes. The lights were out. It was very dark. Elisa was out of her sleeping bag, waving for me from the backroom. “Psssssst!” She pulled at her pajamas, lowering them slightly. She wasn’t wearing panties.

Theo was out cold. I slowly unzipped my sleeping bag, stood, and started toward the backroom, hitting my toe against the doorframe.
“Dammnit!”

Elisa, standing in the doorway, put her hand over my mouth to quiet me. I turned around and looked at Theo. He didn’t move. Elisa tugged at my shirt; I went into the backroom and closed the door behind me.
“Is he asleep?” She asked.
“Yeah. He’s done for the night.”
“That‘s good,” she said.
“Are you cold?”
“Are you?”
“A little,” I said.
“Me too.”
I looked down at her shirt; she had to have been cold, I hadn’t even started yet.
“It’s funny that you have to take off your clothes to stay warm,” she cooed, laying it on too thick, I thought.
“A lot of things are funny anymore.”
“What was your girlfriend’s name?”
“Corrine. I told her you thought she was pretty.”
“Did you really?”
“Yeah. Sometimes she digs that sort of thing. She says ambiguity is sexy, whatever the hell that means.”
“She likes girls?”
“She’s pretended to, or maybe she really does. Who knows.”
“Should we call her?” Elisa asked, grinning.
“Probably not.”
“She was sexy, I liked her shoes. When I first saw her, saw those shoes, I wanted to hook up with her, have her put one of those heels in my ass.”

I probably should have been taken aback by Elisa— some rich bitch, a trust fund girl into porno— but I wasn‘t. I would have been more surprised if she hadn’t been that way; trust fund kids are always insane.
“You never told me your porn name. Is that the kind of stuff you shoot? Heels and such?”
“Sometimes.”
“What’s the name?”
“I’m not telling you that. You know my real name, I couldn’t take the chance.”
“Right. Theo said your family has a little money, and that crest is pretty damn regal.”
“We have a bit of money, enough that I wouldn‘t want to tell anyone my stage name.” she said. “But I’ll tell you that it’s based on E.E. Cummings. That’s all I’ll say.”
“I’ll have to look for it. I‘m sure it‘s out on the computers, somewhere.”
“Probably. Have fun looking.” She began kissing my neck. I rubbed my cock from outside of my pants, eventually grabbing her hand to let her take over.
“Oh!” she smiled.
I smiled back and began to unbutton my shirt.
“Do you like Augie’s work?” She asked.
“It’s okay. It’s different, and that’s probably enough.”
Elisa nodded in agreement, unzipping my pants, getting on her knees, kissing a little. She looked up at me. “Do you like art?”
“I don’t know what it is.” I said.
Elisa stood up, took her pajamas off, turned around and bent over the table that had some of Augie’s old work on it. She stayed bent, looking back at me, swaying her ass from side to side.
“Well how about you fuck me on top of this art?”


We started at two in the morning and finished just before the sun came up. It was hard competing with the cold. I spent as much time trying not to freeze my cock off as I did anything else. Every time she would kiss something, it would sting, stiffening with cold. After we were finally done, Elisa went into the bathroom to wash everything off. I went back to sleep. The next morning Theo seemed strange, but never said anything. I was thankful for that.

When they left the next day, Elisa told she would write. I told her not to bother, that my mailman always tried opening my letters, and the wax crest would be too enticing for him. She laughed at that; I was only half-kidding. Theo seemed contented to his failures with Elisa, and told me privately that he was going to win her over on the drive back home. I told him not to try so hard, that his best bet was to buy a painting and put it in the backseat. He didn’t understand.
Then they left.


“What did you guys do over the weekend?” Augie asked me.
“Eh, this and that.”
“Anything exciting?”
“I learned to appreciate art.”


- - -
Eric Boyd was born on October 16th, at 3:33AM, 1988 in North Carolina. He briefly studied at the Maharishi University of Management in Fairfield, Iowa. Boyd's work has been featured in several journals, including Linguistic Erosion, Smashed Cat Magazine, and the Fourth River. Eric currently lives in Homestead, Pennsylvania. His cat's name is Oscar.

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Author: Eric Boyd