It was only 8:30am and I sat at my small desk, trying to think up a new design idea that would impress Ellen. Of course, my mind continued to swirl about Shirley and Betsy. I was quickly becoming overwhelmed by my inability to be a normal person and figure all of this out rationally. Suddenly, I grabbed my oversized bag and ran out, leaving a note for Ellen saying I had a doctor’s appointment.

Not knowing where I was going, I ended up at Macy’s department store, just as they opened, looking for ideas to steal. I wasn’t there long because everything they had was pretty much last year’s design. Nothing new and definitely nothing interesting, just bland colors with basic designs. To me, it seemed like everyone was eager to look like every other woman in New England.

I left and not wanting to return to my office, I headed for the homeless park across the street.

It’s one of the parks in West Hollywood that they don’t kick out the street people. I found a bench in an area that didn’t smell so bad, it’s stench of urine muted and only a problem I imagined during the mid-day sun. It was morning so many of the homeless still lay beneath their worn sleeping bags or ripped and dirty blankets, looking like cocoon figures waiting to be born. My eyes studied the surreal figures when I noticed a woman sitting up and leaning against a brick wall. She was reading. Homeless people have a keen sense and I felt she knew I would be coming over, even before I had thought about it. Something about her was very intriguing.

By the time I arrived at her crossed legs, her eyes were drawn and guarded. She said nothing, waiting to discover my purpose.

“What are you reading?” I asked.

“A book,” she said, drawing it behind her back as if I was about to take it. “It’s a library book, I have a card you know. I took it out fair and square.”

She wasn’t drunk but I got the impression that was the genesis of her homelessness--- an alcoholic that had lost it all. “I didn’t think that,” I stated. “I was just curious. You don’t see a lot of people reading these days.”

“Only pleasure I have.”

It was then that my idea surprised me. I pulled out a twenty and softly handed it to her.

“Thank you. I’m not buying liquor anymore, don’t worry.” She lowered her head, feeling her own shame.

I got back to the office and the homeless woman was still on my mind. I grabbed my half-used color pencils and started drawing. Before I got too far, I heard her and I looked up. Betsy stood in the doorway, grinning as if she were in heat. I didn’t look at her long because I was a tad annoyed she just showed up at my office expecting me to drop everything. Why? The more I thought about the homeless woman, the more Betsy was making me angry.

“I’m busy, Betsy.” My head was down.

“How about another horse ride after work today?”

“Can’t Betsy.”

“Throwing me aside again?”

I could feel a new, darker resentment in Betsy without even looking up at her, until finally I looked up as she lost it, “Fran, you ARE selfish. You want Shirley, you want me, who else are you messing with?”

Just then Ellen made her way around Betsy and into the office. Betsy continued, referring to Ellen and whispered “Is she another easy lay for you, too?” She quickly ran out of my office. I realized I had let this love triangle go too far.

Ellen gave me a look and I held up my pad. A pair of white cotton shorts with books scattered all over.

“Books?”

“Books.”

“All right, let’s see some different style shorts.”

I nodded in agreement, lay my pad back down, and felt guilty as hell.