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hs27150.jpgbuy prints of select halfsquatch photographs at etsy or dawanda. (prints of all photographs are available upon request) day 27

In the bathroom across from the bar, Paula washed her hands and checked her makeup. She reached down the back of her black pants and adjusted her thong. She wriggled and pulled. There was a soft giggle. Again. Then a shh. Paula spun around to find two girls standing in the doorway.

Paula yanked her hand out of her pants. She zipped her purse and hurried past the girls without acknowledgement. She pushed her shoulder against the hinged door. It swung open and Paula tumbled into the hallway. The girls burst into laughter.

“Oh my God. I’m sorry.” Rebecca helped Paula to her feet. “I didn’t know anyone was behind the door. I’m so sorry, I—”

“Nevermind,” Paula said sharply. She swept the hair out of her face. Only then did she realize that it was Rebecca.

Rebecca continued to apologize, but Paula brushed her sorrys away with a more amiable nevermind and a friendly smile. She joined Rebecca and the two girls – whom Rebecca introduced as Raylene and Nicole — back in the washroom. She checked her makeup again and listened to the girls complain that Dave knocked over the last of their vodka when he went to open the freezer to get more ice.

“I hope you aren’t planning on getting into any trouble tonight,” Paula said to Rebecca. It was more a tease than a caution. “No stealing dead cats or anything.”

Rebecca shook her head. “We’re just hangin’ out.” She tried hard not to slur. She didn’t drink often and was surprised how quickly the vodka concoctions Raylene mixed had gone to her head.

“Oh yeah?”

“We’re babysitting the Sasquatch,” Raylene said.

“Fun,” Paula said.

Nicole shrugged. “It’s okay.”

“Better if we had more cock-tails,” Raylene said.

“Totally.” Rebecca chimed in.

“I might be able to help you with that,” Paula said.

The girls pooled their cash – three crumpled fives, a heavy fist of change — and handed it to Paula. She’d meet them in ten minutes at the back entrance to the garage. Knock three times. Stop. Knock three times again. Raylene was very specific about this. “So we know it’s you and not some loser Sasquatch weirdo.”
Rebecca had given Raylene and Nicole the same instructions earlier, after Dave had passed them on to her.

The girls arrived with vodka and litres of pink juice that was too sweet. They brought martini glasses made of green plastic. Sunburn streaked across their noses and cheeks. They brought music and a portable CD player of unnecessary size. And they danced. You gotta hear this. You gotta hear this. They were very drunk.

Your heartbeat sound like Sasquatch feet/ Thundering, shaking the concrete.

Notorious B.I.G.’s “Who Shot Ya” thumped out of the boombox. Rebecca could feel it in her chest, her stomach. She swallowed a third of her drink in one gulp. Maybe hip-hop isn’t so bad after all. Dave shouted at Raylene to turn it down. She stuck out her tongue at him and they all laughed.


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                                                                                                                                                          ©2008 pamela klaffke