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Samantha Memi

Samantha Memi

Samantha Memi lives in London. Her stories have been published, or are forthcoming, in Fiction International, Gemini Magazine, Thrice Fiction and Birkensnake.


While I was sitting on a park bench waiting for my boyfriend I was wondering what I would do if I was Catwoman, lurking up a tree, lying in wait for the Joker.

A child ran past and fell over and her mother ran to her and shouted, I told you not to run. Why don't you listen to me?

The child went, Whaaaaargh!

I'm sure if I'd been closer I'd've been able to see her tonsils. Not that I especially wanted to see her tonsils but I thought I'd show how wide her mouth opened. Her mother picked her up and gave her a cuddle, and glanced at me as if to say what do you think you're looking at.

I looked away and remembered Julie Newmar as Catwoman—the best Catwoman ever—when she was walking down a staircase and she lifted one leg onto the stair rail, and with the invitation of open legs, she purred to Batman. I tried to do the same with a boy at school and fell down the stairs and twisted my ankle, and my mum kept saying, I don't know what's got into you lately. Fancy doing something so stupid.

The wind rustled the branches and leaves shook. Dark clouds shadowed the freshly cut lawns where children played and women read magazines and men played ball games trying to look manly. I sat on the park bench and got angry. He was late.

When Audrey Hepburn first went to Ascot she wore a huge black and white hat designed by Cecil Beaton and all the snobby aristocrats sat round and listened as she said, What I say is, 'er what done 'er in, was 'er what took 'er 'at.

I'd strangle babies to be Audrey Hepburn. Not now I wouldn't 'cos she dead, and anyway not babies, no. Maybe fat bald men. I'd strangle them, but I doubt if God would say, Go forth and strangle fat bald men and thou shalt be Audrey Hepburn.

Then he arrived and I stood up and walked away.

He shouted, Samantha, wait, I'm sorry I'm late, there was an accident.

I turned and screamed, What time do you call this? Three hours! Three hours I've been waiting. And I'm not waiting anymore.

I carried on walking.

But I'm here now, he shouted.

I turned and yelled, I know you're here now, it's obvious you're here now. Do you think I'm stupid.

He whined, It's not three hours. It's only twenty minutes.

Twenty minutes! You think you're so clever with your details don't you. Twenty minutes! I could have been dragged in the bushes and raped. And what would you have done? eh? Nothing! That's what you'd have done, 'cos you wouldn't have been here.

I went home and waited for him to call so I could tell him, I don't want to talk to you. But he never called and the next time I saw him he was with poxy Maisie and he didn't even say hello.


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