Black Fly Season

‘Fly musta been the size of a dog, man. You look like a Sumo wrestler.’

People had been telling him he looked Chinese all week. Black flies were always a problem this time of year, but Blaine had never seen them like this. Millions of them swarming in huge black clouds. He’d taken the usual measures, wore the repellent, wore a hat, kept his pants tucked into his socks, but the flies were so thick you couldn’t even breathe without inhaling them. Little mothers had fallen totally in love with him, and bit all around his face. By Monday morning his eyes were swollen shut, couldn’t see a thing.

He rang up the three Molsons. When he turned around again, the redhead was there.

‘Hello,’ she said, climbing on to a stool.

‘What can I get you?’

‘Just some water would be nice. I don’t seem to take to beer.’

Blaine poured her a glass of ice water and set it down on a napkin.

‘You sure are a big man, aren’t you.’

‘Big enough.’

Blaine moved down the bar a little and stacked some glasses.

‘You seem nice.’

Blaine laughed. The redhead looked to be in her mid-twenties, still with a lot of freckles. She had the thickest, curliest hair he had ever seen. Didn’t take care of herself any too well, though. Like Blaine, she had a lot of black fly bites, and there were bits of leaves stuck in her hair.

‘What’s your name?’ she said.

‘Blaine.’

‘Blaine? That’s a nice name.’

‘If you say so. What’s yours?’

‘I don’t actually know. Isn’t that amazing?’

Blaine felt an odd turning sensation in his stomach. The girl didn’t look high; her manner was calm and pleasant. She slid off the stool, now, and went over to Regis and his baseball-cap buddies.

‘You guys look nice.’

‘Well, hey there,’ Regis said. ‘You don’t look too bad yourself. Can we buy you a drink?’

‘No, that’s okay. I’m not thirsty.’

‘Barkeep! A Molson’s for the young lady, here.’

‘Can’t do that,’ Blaine said. ‘She said she didn’t want one.’

‘Thanks a lot, Blaine. I love you too.’ Regis reached over the bar and grabbed one of the glasses drying on the rack. He poured beer into it and handed it to the redhead.

‘Thank you. You’re very nice.’ She took a sip and made a face.

Blaine brought her glass of water down the bar and set it in front of her.

‘Oh, thanks. That’s nice of you.’

Nice, nice, everything’s nice. Honey, have you got a lot to learn.

‘I’m Regis. This is Bob, and that’s Tony. What’s your name?’

‘I don’t know it at the moment.’

They laughed.

‘That’s fine,’ Regis said. ‘You don’t have to tell us.’

‘We’ll just call you Red,’ the one called Tony said.

‘We’ll just call you Anonymous,’ the one called Bob said.

‘Anonymous Sex,’ Regis said, and they all laughed. ‘Like Tyrannosaurus Rex.’

He fingered her denim jacket.

‘This is cute.’

‘Yes, I like it.’

The one called Tony put his arm round her shoulder and ran a hand through her hair. He pulled out a piece of leaf.

‘Man, you have got the most amazing hair I’ve ever seen. Leafy, but amazing.’

‘You guys are so friendly.’

‘You’re pretty friendly yourself,’ Regis said. ‘Got some nasty bites on you, but I can fix that.’ He leaned forward and kissed her cheek.

The girl smiled and rubbed her face.

Blaine moved closer.

‘Miss, don’t you think it’s time you went home?’

‘Hey, mind your own business, Blaine.’ Regis smacked the bar, upsetting a dish of peanuts. ‘She’s not drunk, she’s just having a good time.’

‘No, you’re having a good time. She doesn’t know what kind of time she’s having.’

The girl smiled, not looking at either of them.

‘Two Creemores, three Blue, one Export!’

Blaine moved down the bar to take care of Darla. When he came back, the redhead was on Regis’ lap.