CHAPTER 1



Pamela Goldstein entered her apartment building and checked the mailbox. She became excited when she saw between the thin metal bars some white envelopes. She pulled out her keys from her packsack, unlocked the box and pulled out the envelopes. Sifting through them, she opened the one she'd been waiting for from Neptune Books. "Dear Ms. Goldstein. Thank for your submission. We regret to inform you that it does not meet our needs at the present time…"

She cursed. She re-read the letter and cursed again. There was no handwritten comment, like on the rejection slip from the last publisher, and the signature wasn't even authentic.

This was the sixth rejection letter. She was particularly hurt by the dismissive attitude of the letter, the way the editor didn't even scribble "Better luck elsewhere", or something equally trite, as a show of empathy. The editor might as well written "Dear Pam, you suck and your breath stinks. Get a life. "

She walked up two flights of stairs to her third-storey apartment. The hallway was dimly lit. The owner was too cheap to put a lightbulb in the light socket overhead. And the carpet hadn't been vacuumed in weeks.

Pam walked down the corridor of her apartment, then slapped the unopened mail on the television set. Cate, her blue-haired roommate, noticed Pam kept an open letter in her hand.

" Another rejection letter?" Cate inquired.

Pam looked at her in disgust." Yes, " she hissed.

" Oh, sorry to hear that. Did they give you any criticism?"

" No, the bastards. Not even a lousy handwritten note."

Pam turned into the hallway at went to her bedroom at the far end. There was always a musty smell coming from the piles of unread magazines stacked four feet high against the wall. She meant to read them, but simply did not have the time during the semester. She never wanted to miss an issue, and just couldn't bear to let her subscriptions run out.

To the right of the door was a copper-coloured metallic cabinet that was about two feet high. Pam kneeled down an opened the doors. The inside was empty except for the original copy of her manuscript that she lay on the top shelf. It looked very naked, being so isolated. She took out the manuscript and handled it delicately, being careful not to bend the corners or smudge the beautiful, crisp, white pages. She randomly chose a page and was soon enthralled by her own writing. This is so good! She exclaimed to herself. Those people are crazy for rejecting this.

She put back the manuscript into the cabinet, sat on the floor and folded her arms. She'd been through her Writers' Market several times to find a potential publisher. The list of good candidates was dwindling. There must be something more to this, she thought to herself. I must be missing some kernel of information. I mustn't be doing something right. I can't see why anyone would reject this. It's good, and I know it.

She got up and went to the living room. Cate sat on the grey beat up sofa, watching a Vision TV panel about the history of feminism. An Evagelical panellist spoke up against it.

" Oh could you mute that? " Pam whined.

" Why should I? I want to see what he has to say."

" Because he's a bigot. You want to hear what to hear what this mindless buffoon has to say?" He began to quote Scripture to support his argument. His attitude grated on her nerves.

" There are at least two sides to every story. He might have a valid point."

Not, thought Pam. " Nobody who's truly educated believes that stuff or takes those people seriously. And his hair is greasy, to boot."

" I want to hear what he has to say, whether I agree with it or not."

Cate enjoyed watching Vision TV, and had a voracious curiosity about the world's faiths, whether she agreed with their beliefs or not. From the standpoint of religious conviction, she thought of herself as " a nothing", not adopting any faith in particular. But she read extensively, normally from popular introductory texts, and quilted together her own system of beliefs.

" Do you want to go out tonight?" Pam asked.

" Out where?"

" Drinking."

" I don't want to go drinking. " Cate sounded annoyed. She did not want to be anybody's drinking buddy.

" You're boring. "

Cate didn't want to be boring. And she felt a bit sorry for Pam. " If we sit down and have a quiet drink, I'll go, " Cate offered.

" Okay, a quiet drink. How about going to Chez Pierre?"

" I don't like that place. Everybody looks at me because I have blue hair and like to wear leather, and last time, I got propositioned by a gross sixty-something man with an odor problem."

" How about The Keg?"

" That place is full of immature boys."

" Exactly!"

" How about Coyote Joe's? Pretty juvenile, but nobody cares about my hair over there."

" Do you think Dylan will be there?"

Cate's eyes rolled. " You are obsessed with that man!"

Her tone sounded like an accusation. " I don't need a man to make me happy. I'm just hoping we can meet up. And talk. That's all."

" With you, it's never to talk."

" Well a girl can hope, can't she?"

Ever since Dylan walked into their class on Shakespeare, Pam had her eye on him. She loved his sandy blond hair, with his sunglasses perched on his head. He wore a navy blue rugby shirt and a white shirt and shorts. He even wore sandals and socks, in spite of the fact they were well into autumn. They spoke only in passing, but Pam sensed that there was perhaps a possibility of a relationship between the two. She hoped that perhaps they might happen to meet in one of the bars frequented by university youth, and that they might hit it off and end up together. The conclusion to that story was that she and Dylan would date, live together, marry, have a few kids and they would live happily ever after. But she never let on about her secret fantasy. After all, thinking about marriage in college might be considered "jumping the gun", and she feared intimidating prospective lovers. For now, she lived by the almost self-evident proposition that her time should be spent studying, and, when feasible, having a good time, without jeopardizing her future. And she hoped that her fun with Dylan might lead to a more permament arrangement.

Cate made Pam promise that they would not stay out too late. They both had to work at Maxine's during the morning rush hour shift.

Pam insisted they sit at the bar, so that they could keep an eye on the door, who was entering and who was leaving. Cate wanted to hide in a quiet booth where no one could stare at her or accost her about her looks. She had a rowdy appearance, but in reality she wasn't the bar-going type. She would have rather stayed home and done her reading for Monday, or just sit around and think about life, and maybe write poem or two. She wished they would turn down the music. Not only did it pop her ears and inhibit her from talking to Pam, it was the worst kind-- techno music that featured the same five mindless lyrics sung repitively to predictable chord progressions. She could tell what the tune would be like even if she had never heard the song before.

Pam liked Coyote Joe's because it made no pretense of its purpose: it was a bar to get drunk and have fun. There was no real décor except for a few red and blue spotlights. The chairs and tables were of black metal and randomly placed. Upstairs there was a small dancefloor and a DJ.

" What'll you be drinking? " Pam asked Cate at the top of her lungs.

Cate sighed. She didn't really want to drink. " I think I'll just have a Coke."

" A Coke? You can't go to a bar and just order a Coke. Order something with alcohol in it."

She clicked her tongue. The portly bartender approached them. " I'll have a strawberry daiquri".

" One strawberry daiquiri for the little lady," he repeated, not impressed with her choice of drink.

Pam jumped in. " I'll have a Long Island Iced Tea."

" You are going in to work tomorrow, " Cate reminded.

Pam rolled her eyes. "Like I've never done this before."

In the corner of her eye, she noticed a group of guys coming in. "Ooh, that guy is hot-- the one with the light beard."

They were boisterous and talkative. " You're not going to talk to them are you? I thought we'd have a quiet drink together."

" Come on, it'll be fun." She took a deep sip from her drink. She found the guys sitting in a corner, ordering shooters from a waitress. She stared down the bearded one. He stared back. She turned her head, and pretended to continue talking to Cate.

A few minutes later, the bartender returned. " That gentleman over there would like to buy you a drink." he said to Pam.

She turned around and saw him wave at her. " I'll have another Tea."

The bearded guy walked up to them. " Hi. My name is Greg. Would you care to join us over there?"

He led them to the corner where the boys were starting up a drinking game. Cate followed, wondering what she was doing there. She sat next to Larry, the one who looked the least threatening. He only had a beer, and wasn't trying to play bounce-the-quarter-into- the-shot-glass.

Greg offered the quarter to Pam, and she, never one to disappoint, gave it a go. She flung the quarter so hard it flew half way across the room. "Oops, sorry about that. I guess I'll have to have a drink." She took a sip of her tea.

Greg took his turn and bounce the quarter into the shot glass. He chose Pam as his victim. " How kind of you, " she said to him.

Cate tried to make some small talk, but Larry was visibly uncomfortable talking to her. She tried to make the best of it by watching the others play the drinking game.

As the alcohol began to take effect, Pam became inspired by the music and started rolling her shoulders to the beat. A few more sips, and she swayed her derriere. Greg encouraged her by joining in, sliding his hands on her arms. Cate began to feel embarrassed, and tried to remind herself that she would probably never meet any of these people ever again, so there was no point in worrying about their opinion of her or Pam.

Pam turned her head towards the door. Dylan walked in. She stopped dancing. Oh my God! Dylan! She screamed mentally. Wait-- I must not let on that I'm interested. That would be clingy. But I can sure show off my wares.

She got up on the table and began dancing in the most sexy and provocative way possible.

Cate became steamed. This outing was supposed to be about having a quiet relaxing drink, and here she was prancing about like a stripper. Tomorrow they had to work

The boys around her applauded, cheered and called out for her to take off her clothes.

Dylan caught a glimpse of Pam. He smiled and pointed. Oh, he's looking at me! She thought.

Her head began to spin, so she jumped off the table, and flopped onto the floor.

" Okay Pam, it's time to go home!" Cate announced.

Pam lazed on the floor. The spotlights above shimmered in the thin coat of spilled beer that surrounded her. Her head tilted aimlessly with a glassy-eyed look. Cate grabbed her by the armpits, but her body was limp. " Come on, Pam, try to co-operate."

" But I'm not finished yet."

" You're quite finished," Cate rebutted. With one vigourous jerk, she managed to get Pam to sit on a chair. She then braced herself for the next stage: sliding her shoulder under Pam's armpit.

None of the guys offered to help Cate as she brought Pam to the door, but she thought it was just as well. Pam was better off not being indebted in any way to them.

Once Pam was out the door, the cool autumn air revitalized her. Her legs were still somewhat unsteady, but she could stand on her own for a moment, while Cate found a taxi waiting a few cars down.