Pass This On.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck! Why must I always be late?” A young woman in her mid-20s was running all around the apartment, looking desperately at the clock in the hallway. One second she was putting on mascara, the next she was frowning at the color shade of her blouse and after uttering yet another swear word, she attacked her wardrobe with her anxious eyes before sprinting into the bathroom again with another piece of clothing in hand. Better, she thought contently as she observed herself in the mirror – the simple white shirt with tight blue jeans and a short-cut jacket shouldn’t send the wrong message, it’s just a casual outfit…

Putting on red lipstick, she froze for a moment as she wondered: Why aren’t there any guides for hetero women on what to wear to a gay friend’s birthday party? It isn’t like she will meet anyone straight there, she might as well not go at all – she’ll be invisible to everyone and Eliot has only gay friends, so… No! She shook her head in disagreement with her thoughts, knowing that she must go, remembering her promise to attend. However, this wild reaction had its price – Margaret now had extended lips on the right side of her cheek. Perfect, just perfect. She sighed, reached for a wet cosmetic tampon and then the BB cream – a couple of finger-combing strokes through her frizzy hair, a few last touches on her face, a pair of belongings and birthday-present bags on her arm-joint, a single grab of the keys to the apartment and her bike and she was out.

“Thank God Berlin is flat!” she smiled to herself as she got on her bike and rode off on a 15-minute journey to the party, suddenly remembering her hilly hometown. At the red lights, she looked at the time – half-hour late, could be worse. She began checking if she got everything with her, when the bike behind her began ringing; Margaret wanted to look back and show the rider the finger, but instead kept it in and stepped on the pedal – why stress, it is a Friday night after all and everyone has a place to be, including her.

Loud techno music filled the straβe out of an open window of a high-ceilinged apartment – an obvious sign that Margaret arrived at the right place. As she locked her bike by the streetlamp pole, a voice addressed her from two floors up:

“Darling Margaret! Darling! You’re late!” The woman looked up to see Eliot waving invitingly at her from amidst a group of dancing and drink-holding men. She smiled at how radiant her friend was looking;

“I’ll be up in a jiffy!” she waved back and within minutes, she reached the top of an old staircase and found herself in the ever-welcoming arms of the birthday boy.

“Ah, so glad you came, dear!” Eliot said warmly – “the score has changed, with your presence the score of women to men is, say, two to twenty.” Margaret laughed as she kissed him on the cheek and wished him all the best, handing him her present. “You shouldn’t have!” he protested dishonestly, yet touched his cheek in embarrassment after he revealed the box’s content: “A Wellness weekend for me and Tim! You’re too much, dear” he exclaimed, lightly caressing Margaret’s curly mane. She smiled and moved into the apartment, as her place was taken over by some other birthday-wishing guest.

It wasn’t such a small party, yet it was still fairly intimate. The usually empty and quiet apartment was filled with people, each room had its function – one had food (Vegan, Margaret noted) and short-clip projections on the walls, another had a dance-floor and disco-ball reflection walls and in the hallway, individuals entertained themselves in conversations. Margaret helped herself with a glass of punch and awkwardly stood by the bookcase, studying its content. Music roared through the rooms – the repetitive techno beat now was replaced by ABBA. She looked at her watch; it was 9pm and as she looked around at the guests engaged in vacuous discussions and flirtatious small-talk, she decided to leave in an hour.

***

Eliot and his partner were vegans – and after finishing her punch, Margaret naturally looked at the table with refreshments: veggies, fruits, bread, dips… She grabbed a bunch of celery and carrot sticks and crunched on them as desperately as a student doing some last-minute revision above a textbook. However, there was nothing to be nervous about – she was simply uncomfortable, with all these men touching each other and obviously looking through her, hence proving her hypothesis about “being invisible”. Of course, being as attractive as she was, it was slightly strange to have no male attention… Diving into her thoughts, suddenly she felt a poke on the shoulder.

“Why are you just standing here?” Eliot. “Walk around, socialize! Have you no consideration for my poor nerves, as a host?” Margaret smirked and through the loud Savage Garden music shouted back:

“Yes, of course, Mama Bennet.” Eliot looked around.

“Hey, I’ll introduce you to Victoria. Oh, what genius idea! If you don’t compliment yourself, nobody else will.” Typical Eliot – hospitable, busy and outgoing – was now waving over a short-haired woman dressed in black. “Margaret, Victoria. Victoria, Margaret. And allow me now to go fill up others’ glasses – people are far too sober” and away he went on his mission, leaving the two ladies to look at each other awkwardly. Margaret asked:

“So, where do you know Eliot from?” As she responded, Victoria began playing with a longer strand of her short hair.

“University, actually. We are both writing our PhD’s on African dialects” and before she could do anything about it, Margaret was given a long lecture on the high utility of the field. Though usually patient and attentive, after such a long, excruciating day at work these characteristics were gone – especially since this woman was hitting her arm, slapping it as she spoke. She was hitting on her too, most probably! “Bloody hell, woman!” thought Margaret to herself... She used that brief moment when Victoria was inhaling air for yet another round of enthusiastic monologue to excuse herself to go to the bathroom.    

Of course, she only wanted to be alone – and the bathroom served as perfect refuge for her thoughts. Though she has been a few time to Eliot’s place, she never was in the Badenzimmer… somehow. But she could not stop herself from feeling like a girl in wonderland; for in that small bathroom, there was an amazing collection of make-up. Margaret smiled – this man has more cosmetics than me! Body glitter tubes, entire spectrum of eye-shadows, fake eye-lashes, make-up beads, lip glosses and sticks of different colors… Amazing that Eliot left it all here, not afraid of anyone taking any of it away! Wow. Yet just when she wanted to investigate closer the host’s collection, a knock came through from the door –

“Get out, will you? I need to puke” Margaret then rapidly unlocked the doors and let the crouching man in, thinking that Eliot’s mission is gradually getting complete. Grinning, she headed back into the living room with refreshments and…Victoria. Shit. But to her relief, everyone else was in the living room too – and being short and slim, Margaret squeezed herself through, just in time to see Eliot blush and smile widely above a candle-lighted chocolate cake with “30” whip-creamed on it and she joined the guests’ collective Happy Birthday chant. At the end of it, tear-eyed Eliot blew out the candles as everyone clapped and patted him on the shoulder – Margaret kissed his cheek. 


Once it got quiet again, Eliot smiled at everyone:
“Thank you all for coming here tonight – I bet you had other things to do on such a summer Friday night, but hey, since you’re here, make the most of all that free Vegan food and drink!” People whooped. “Oh, and as for this cake? It’s all Margie’s, there’s egg in it!” Male laughter filled the room as Eliot turned and placed the cake onto Margaret’s outstretched arms. She smiled sheepishly, feeling rather silly, standing there motionlessly with that cake in her arms even after people went back into the dance room, kitchen or onto the living room’s L-shaped sofa. Noticing a free chair nearby, Margaret sat on it in a miserable way, having sad thoughts about her life as she dug her fork into the chocolate treat. Luckily the taste of the cake wasn’t miserable, so Margaret sat there, eating it by herself while watching the men dance, converse and laugh…

***

When all of a sudden, a voice broke through the Lady Gaga song:

“Would you mind sharing that cake?” Margaret looked up – and saw a handsome, brown-haired man staring down at her. He reminds me so awfully much of someone! She thought to herself as she nodded:

“Sure, just grab a fork and join me.” The man did as told and sat next to her. Together they munched for a while, until he broke their silence:

“You know, I didn’t know somebody non-Vegan will come. Otherwise I would have told Eliot that the cake is mine.” Margaret laughed –

“Well, my apologies then!” The man smiled so warmly, Margaret introduced herself.

“Margaret? What a schön name! I’m Earnest.” Margaret twitched in surprise.

“Wait, really? ‘Earnest’?” He nodded.

“Yes, earnestly, my name is Earnest.” She shook her head in disbelief.

“Oh, my! You poor thing!” This time he was the one shaking his head.

“Actually, it’s not that bad. I got a play named after me. And to be honest again, your name isn’t all that typisch either – so I’ve got a play, you got a book.” Margaret frowned in confusion, then lifted her eyebrows in sudden realization:

“Indeed, you’re right! ‘The Master and Margarita’, by Bulgakov, ja?” From the way both of them smiled, it was evident that the party wasn’t half as bad anymore for either of them.

“So, where do you know Eliot from?” Earnest asked once he stopped munching on cake. Margaret took a while to swallow down her forkful, then responded:

“University. We studied Literature together in England.” Earnest sat up in sudden interest.

“Wait! You’re that Margaret!” She gave him a questioning look. He gulped, then explained: “Eliot’s told me so much about you! About your writing especially. I read a short story of yours – I think it was, um, Katzen… Cats! Short, funny – effective, nonetheless. Sorry, I keep on muddling up German with English, horrid of me.” Margaret couldn’t care less about that – she was amazed!

“Truly? Wow! And you two are best friends or… more?” Earnest began laughing.

“No, no, nothing of that! Though I must say I feel slightly uncomfortable here - I swear, that guy over there has been giving me the eye all night! No, I’m Eliot’s brother.”

“Oh! Well, I hope you won’t get mad at Eliot when I tell you that he never told me about you.” Earnest waved his hand, in a no-matter fashion.

“Nah, I bet you had other things to talk about than siblings.” Margaret smiled. Earnest dodged his eyes, looking down at the half-empty tray – “Lovely cake. These vegans don’t know what they’re missing!” They laughed together until they spotted a male couple French-kissing, one sitting on the other’s lap. Wide-eyed, Margaret looked back at Earnest, who laughed loudly: “You look like a frightened kitten! Please, don’t tell me you’ve never received such a reaction when kissing a girlfriend!” Margaret shook her head.

“No, no, I’m straight.” Earnest was silent for a while, until he responded:

“Ah! See what this place does to me? I spend an hour here and already I get the impression that heterosexuality is a rarity.” Margaret nodded in agreement. “Well, now that we got that out of the way… How about I ask you out on a date?” She lifted her eyebrow.

“Honestly? At a gay birthday party, you ask me out?”

“We can go outside the apartment, if you insist.” It was Margaret who waved her hand this time, though laughing. She squared her shoulders.

“Sure.” Earnest beamed. He looked at his watch –

“Damn, it’s almost midnight! I better rush to catch a clean U-bahn. If you want, come with me.” Margaret shook her head.

“No, I must stay. Besides, I got this cake to finish and a bike parked right outside.” Earnest smiled:

“Alright, I’ll call you. I promise beforehand that I won’t take you to Q-Café.” Margaret laughed. “I’m off then. Enjoy the night, it’s still young.”

“And yet you are leaving for home at midnight?” Margaret smirked.

“That’s another story. To be earnest, I can tell you my tale next time we see each other.”

“You’re going to turn into a frog?” Earnest looked around.

“Maybe. Spread the word, so the chaps will leave me alone next time.” Margaret nodded and with a final smile and waving of hand Earnest left. And with the half-eaten cake still on her lap, Eliot suddenly buzzed by her chair.

“Margie, does chocolate make you this flushed in the face?” Margaret looked up at him and shook her head.

“No. To be earnest… it’s Earnest.” Eliot replied loudly:

“Aaah! So you met him! Where is he now?”

“Out, he just left for home.” Eliot frowned teasingly.

“So my brother made you flush and you let him go, now you sit here with cake on your lap, creating the impression that chocolate is giving you compliments…” He took the tray from Margaret’s lap. “He left just a minute ago – go out, catch him! While it’s still fresh.” Margaret smiled.

“I shouldn’t.” He poked her in the rib.

“Shut up! I see it on you when you fancy someone – and it doesn’t happen often, dear. Now go!” Margaret stood up, smiling. In that moment, a new song began playing - The Knife, Pass This On:

I'm in love with your brother

What's his name?

I thought I'd come by to see him again…

But before the first verse was finished, Eliot realized he was left standing alone facing an empty chair, was surrounded by swaying male bodies and holding a vegan-inappropriate cake in his hands. Margaret was gone.

THE END