I can't take Gina anywhere now. She drank from an empty cup the
other day, and it hit her right away.
	"What hat should I wear?" I asked her.
	" hatever." I wanted to go out; she wanted to stay home and read
something by Buber she got from the library. "There's a f og coming; no-
body will see your hat a  way."
	The weatherman said it would be sunny all day, but who knows? "The
li  arian said this was due back, but it's not. I have another week," she
added petulantly.
	"That's fine," I said, "I just thought you might like to see the
sun every once in a while."
	"No s  light. I'm fine in here."
	So I left.

	I didn't see her when I came back. She woke me up the next morning,
all the color drained out of her face. "I saw a bat."
	I strained to hear better. "A boat?"
	"Why would I be scared of a boat? It's a bat! A bat!"
	Rolling out of bed, I reached for a yardstick to scare the thing
off with. Gina followed behind, timidly.
	Our living room had stayed dark when the sun rose. I adjusted the
shades, hoping to roust the bat from wherever it was, but with no success.
Gina stared back angrily as I shrugged. Then, oddly, her books slid off the
shelf one after the other. I squinted. There WAS a bat there, moving so
fast as to be a blur most of the time. I swung at it with the ruler; I must
have missed by a fraction of an inch.
	Tap, tap, tap. Gina paced furiously in circles. "A moment's p ace,"
she said, "that's what I wan ed."
	"I'll just call Animal Control," I said. "You should go over to
your boyfriend's until they come."
	Gina bolted out the door and down the steps of our building, stop-
ping to kick a pile of leaves. She didn't stop until not a single leaf was
left on the lawn.
	The bat had vanished again.

	I called Tony that evening to say the coast was clear, but he had-
n't seen Gina all day. She turned up as I was pouring the milk onto my din-
ner. "Enough co nf akes," I heard her say. "I need your help." She led me
back to the living room, where a giant frog was blocking the windows. I
yelped wordlessly, and Gina slapped me. "Don't you  tart!"
	For good measure, I blinked, but the frog was still there. Gina ran
back to the kitchen and splashed some water on her face; that didn't get
rid of the frog either. "Do you-- did you see where this came from?"
	She pursed her lips uncertainly and said, "My    gination."
	The walls shivered.

	Neither one of us has left the apartment in a week. That's my res-
ponsible side for you right there. I've been giving Gina filling foods:
blintzes, malai kofta, calzones, anything we can get delivered.
	I don't have any furniture. I'm 27 and my furniture has all turned
into pottery. Do you know what that's like?
	I haven't even looked out the window lately. Maybe you do.

written for Margaret at Au Bon Pain #1 10/21/01

The word "hatever" has kicked around my head for a long time. This led to an interesting idea which absolutely should not have been tried while working under a time limit. Margaret liked it, though.

- everything is by Aaron Mandel; please ask first if you're about to steal something -

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