Super America

by Anne Panning

  “I’m coming,” Denise said, belting her new seersucker robe. She wanted the mornings to be fresh, unharried, and peaceful, but JenJen continually wore her out immediately.

  The diaper was a big, heavy, wet one, and Denise gagged despite herself. It landed with a heavy thud in the garbage can, and Jen-Jen laughed. “I go, boom!” Denise dusted her with baby powder, put on a fresh diaper, and dressed her in little jean shorts and a pink T-shirt. Her bare feet went pattering into the kitchen before Denise had a chance to wash her hands.

  Cole and Larry sat in the sunken living room on the second level, bowls of cereal held idly in their laps. Violent, masculine cartoons played on the television at low volume. “Larry,” Denise said, “I thought we agreed to no eating in the living room. Remember the furniture?” She and Larry had recently charged a white leather sectional, along with a teak entertainment console and matching teak end tables.

  “I thought breakfast was okay,” Larry said, and his eyes slid back to the television. Cole dripped milk on his belly and nearly tipped his whole bowl over.

  “And Jen-Jen’s diaper?” Denise asked. She saw there was not yet any coffee made, and her head ached for some.

  “She was calling for you,” Larry said. He was already dressed in sweatpants, a football jersey, and big white high-tops. “She wanted Mom.”

  “Please,” Denise said, and ferociously ground up coffee beans to release her anger. “I have a dinner menu to plan for tonight. I’ve got shopping to do. We do have guests coming, in case you forgot.”

  “Who’s coming?” Cole asked. His dark eyes flashed at Denise, suddenly interested.

  “The next-door neighbors,” Larry said. “The new people.”

  Cole ate spoonfuls of milk from his cereal bowl. “You mean the bad guys?”

  “Don’t say that,” Denise said. “I’m sure they’re fine people.” She looked over at Larry, who smirked. “Well, they are,” she said. “We just need to get to know them better, that’s all.”

  Denise waited for her coffee, but before it was ready, Jen-Jen pinched her finger in the VCR and wailed as if she’d been badly beaten. Denise rushed over to her, trying to soothe her.

  “Get out of my way!” Cole said, glowering. He wore loose red shorts and nothing else. His chest was concave, his skin almost translucent. “I can’t see the TV.”

  “Cole, zip it!” Denise said, and ran Jen-Jen’s hand underneath the cold water. “Larry, I think Cole needs a time-out. Larry!”

  “I know,” he said. “Come on, Cole.” And with that, Denise watched them go outside and get in the minivan and knew Larry was driving him to the store for a box of white-sugar doughnuts. Larry hadn’t yet grasped the idea of a true time-out, but Denise was too tired to intervene.

  Next door, she heard the ATVS start up in the driveway and watched out the window as the Hillbillies went gunning down the street, their engines sputtering, their big wheels as wide and fat as tractor tires. One of them, not Ty, let his big dog ride along with him as if it were a girlfriend. It sat in front of him, paws crossed over the handlebars, its head turned sideways, tongue hanging out regally. “Oh, please,” Denise muttered, and gave Jen-Jen’s red finger a little kiss.

  Denise had to drive thirty-five miles to Big Top Foods in Waterfield, the only place she could find organic, boneless, skinless chicken breasts, fresh herbs, and hormone-free milk. She’d conned Larry into taking the two kids to the park while she shopped, even though part of her didn’t trust Larry’s eye for the quickest of missteps, the near-miss injuries, the bold way Cole swung from the monkey bars by his knees. But Larry argued with her. “I’m not ‘babysitting’ my own kids,” he said, buckling Jen-Jen into the car seat. “It’s called parenting, Denise. You just have to let me do it my way.”

  Denise moved swiftly through the big warehouse grocery, which smelled of overripe apples and moist cardboard. She’d composed her shopping list aisle by aisle, so she never had to double back. She stopped briefly in the freezer aisle to sample little chicken nuggets dipped in cheddar sauce but didn’t buy any. She was not an impulse buyer and had a specific menu planned for the night’s dinner: spinach-and-feta poultry sausages, cucumber and tomato salad with fresh basil, corn bread muffins, and key lime pie for dessert. She bought an assortment of bottled juices, beer, wine coolers, and sparkling water. She could imagine Ty being confused by all the beverage and food options she would offer. He’d likely never even heard of feta cheese or tasted fresh basil, and the idea of opening up his world made Denise’s posture improve. She wheeled her heavy cart to the least busy checkout aisle and, while she waited, tried to calculate in her head how much her total would be.

  Her guess: $71.00.

  The actual bill: $72.05, including $4.50 off in coupons.

  Denise drove through the tall brick subdivision gates with glowing vapor lights: “Cherokee Bluff A Unique Countryside Community.” Her lot, 28a, was just two streets in on the right, on Splendorwood Court. New homes were going up all around them, and bulldozers, cement mixers, and dump trucks made up the majority of traffic. Prospective homeowners stood in the empty dirt lots, pointing and squinting, trying to imagine their four-level houses with a flagstone patio, or a deck, or a two-car attached garage with a sloping driveway. Would they choose triangular palatial windows, or arched? Side entryway or front? Recessed front porch or open galley?

  Denise hefted most of the groceries in herself and found Larry inside, napping with Jen-Jen on the couch. It was a moving sight, and she tried to be quiet, so rare was it for Jen-Jen to nap these days. She looked in Cole’s room for him, then down in the den, then scanned the yard outside. She couldn’t see him anywhere. “Cole!” she yelled, trying to be calm. “Cole, Mom’s home!”

  She knelt beside Larry and shook his shoulder gently. Larry came awake slowly, squinting and stretching. Jen-Jen nestled back into the couch and breathed heavily. “Where’s Cole?” Denise asked. Larry sat up, his face creased with deep red wrinkles from the couch.

  “Hang on,” Larry said. “Just give me a second.” He rubbed his eyes and got up to look out the window. “He told me he was just playing outside, in the back.”

  “He’s five years old!” Denise shouted. “You do not let him roam around all by himself while you sleep! God, Larry. Where is he?” Denise’s limbs felt loose and watery as she ran around the circumference of their house, then looked in the garage, then looked again in the back yard. Larry followed her, but slowly. Finally, Denise spotted Cole next door, playing with the Hillbillies’ dogs. Two of the big things were tied up and staked into the lawn. Cole laughed when the German shorthair pointer jumped up and licked his face, even though it nearly knocked him off his feet.

  “Cole Lewis Butters, get your butt over here right now!” Denise said. Cole looked over at her with glowering eyes, then continued to pet the big dogs defiantly. The Hillbillies were obviously still out with their ATVS but had left their garage doors wide open. Denise stormed over to Cole and, without even thinking about who might be watching, swatted him hard on the butt, and then again, over and over. “Do you know how much you scared Mommy?” she said, the tears choking her voice. “Do you know what Mommy would do if something ever happened to you? Huh? Mommy loves you so much. So much!” She held him close to her and soaked in the smell of him. Cole cried and tried to appeal to Larry, who stood, hands in his pockets, as if he were a mere passerby.

  Finally, Cole bolted for home, and she let Larry follow him. Denise stood, relieved and trembling and ashamed, in the Hillbillies’ front yard. Glancing inside their garage, she thought she saw a gun, or several of them, racked one on top of another against raw drywall. She looked down the street, saw no one in sight, then entered the garage quietly. Hunting guns, rifles, and shotguns hung in plain view along the wall.

  “The idiots!” Denise said aloud. She reached up for the garage-door opener, pressed it, then quickly slipped back out before it rolled closed. She didn’t care if it wasn’t her property; she was quite sur
e Cherokee Bluff had rules against firearms, and she would see to it that they abided by them.

  By six o’clock, the cucumber-tomato salad was made, the pie was cooling on a rack, and the corn muffins were in the oven. The only thing left was to grill the sausages, which wouldn’t take long on the gas grill. Larry had wanted to keep their old Weber grill, had argued for the irreplaceable taste and smell of a real fire with some hickory chips thrown in for extra flavor, but Denise had said, “A grill is about convenience, Larry. Who has time to stand around and wait for the coals to get just right? And the smoke in your eyes. And the charcoal, and the lighter fluid. It’s so messy! And unhealthy!” So they had charged an expensive gas grill with a warming compartment on one side, built-in drink holders on the other, and a special removable basket for steaming vegetables. “We might as well move our real stove out here,” Larry had said the first time they’d used it. “It’s bigger than our real stove is.” But Denise had taken charge, slapped the chicken onto the shiny silver grill, closed the lid, and proved to him how quickly and expertly it worked, even if the chicken did taste about as bland as if it were boiled.

  At 6:35, their guests had still not arrived, nor had Denise seen any sign of their ATVS. Strangely now, she longed for the grinding blast of their engines, for their hoots and shouts as they spoke to one another en route. At 6:45, still no sign of them, and Denise was starting to feel embarrassed and angry all at once. At 6:55, Denise said to Larry, “I will not be made a fool of,” and took Jen-Jen outside to wait with her on the front lawn. She would show them her indignation and fearlessness by making them look her in the eye and apologize immediately.

  At 7:00, she went back in the house, despite Jen-Jen’s protests. “Ride a wagon!” Jen-Jen had screamed, clinging to the red wagon in the garage. Jen-Jen tried to climb in and fell, banging her lip. More tears, more injuries, more hassle. And Denise was hungry, so hungry!

  “We’re eating right now,” Denise said to Larry, who was trying to read the morning newspaper in the living room. “Let’s go start the grill. Those bastards. Obviously no one ever taught them any manners. I have no idea where they came from anyway. The woods, I think. Maybe the farm. But the Twin Cities? We’re supposed to believe these guys actually managed to live in a city? I mean, they’re stockpiling weapons, for Christ’s sake.”

  “Watch the language,” Larry said. “Cole’s got big ears.” Cole, who dove from couch cushion to couch cushion on the floor, stuck out his tongue when he heard his name mentioned. He then pretended to have big elephant ears but knocked Jen-Jen down in the process. More tears, and Denise had had enough.

  “Dammit!” she said. “Knock it off! Everybody!” But then she heard the ATVS coming down the street. Loud grinding motors, revving and accelerating, loud voices, shouting and yelling. She looked out the living room window (arched instead of the standard triangular) and saw them swerve into their driveway. They didn’t seem the slightest bit surprised that their garage door was now closed. Denise watched Ty release the two dogs from their chains, and they disappeared down the street, barking and yelping.

  “Let’s go fire up the grill,” Denise said. “We’ll just show them we’re bigger people than they are. We’ll show them what it means to have a little class.”

  Denise washed up Cole and Jen-Jen with a wet washcloth, then tied her own hair up in a ponytail. She changed into white jeans and a pink top with brown sandals. Outside, she covered the picnic table with a new floral tablecloth and set out their plastic picnic ware. She waited on a lawn chair, nervously chewing her fingernails, until finally she saw the Hillbillies come filing out their front door. They looked washed and tended, with wet, combed hair and fresh clothes. They all held something in their hands, and Denise jumped up enthusiastically. “Well, hi!” she said, all trace of her anger and indignation absent. “We were starting to think something happened to you!”

  “Sorry we’re late,” Ty said, and introduced his two brothers, Mort and Bigs. Bigs was oddly the smaller of the two with tan, wiry arms, and Mort appeared to have a lazy eye that Denise couldn’t seem to follow. They both shook hands with Larry and nodded at Denise. The kids they more or less ignored. “Anyway, we’re like the three wise men,” Ty joked. “We come bearing gifts.”

  He handed Denise a bouquet of yellow daisies with some red snapdragons in the mix. Mort set a pink scented candle tied with ribbon on the table. Bigs brought a three-pack of nuts—smoked almonds, cashews, honey roasted peanuts—as if it were Christmas. “Well, you didn’t have to do that,” Denise said. “You certainly didn’t have to bring gifts. Goodness.”

  Ty shrugged and watched Cole and Jen-Jen play in the sand pile. Cole kicked his legs in the sand, then pretended he was wiping out on a motorcycle.

  “Beer?” Larry offered, and all three said yes. Denise fetched them out of the garage refrigerator and slipped them into can coolers before handing them over. They sat down at the picnic table at her instruction. The poultry sausages were ready, and Larry slid them onto the plastic platter. Nobody spoke, except for the occasional noise of the kids.

  “So, dig in!” Denise said. She could feel her smile starting to crack and was wondering why she had invited them over in the first place. They had nothing to say to one another, nothing in common, no anecdotes to exchange. And the guns—she kept remembering how many guns they had openly exposed in their garage. But if she brought it up now, it would surely ruin their dinner, wouldn’t it? All she’d wanted was to be neighborly, to show the Hillbillies how nice she and her family were, so maybe they’d quit spoiling her every evening with their noise and unsavory habits. But now, with them quietly eating the food she had prepared, it was harder than she’d thought to bring up any complaints.

  “So, what brought you to Cherokee Bluff?” Denise asked. “You came from the Twin Cities, right?” Denise cut her tomato wheels into small bites and fed them to Jen-Jen.

  “Mom died,” Ty said. He was obviously the spokesman for the trio.

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” Denise said, her head bowed. And? she wanted to ask. So?

  “Got a deal on the house here,” Ty said. “Our Uncle Bang knows the builder, and they said they couldn’t sell these too much longer, you know, because of the sinking. Figured we could manage a year or so here anyway. Got it on the cheap when Mom’s house sold.”

  Denise nearly choked on her sparkling water. “Sinking?” she said. She tried to catch Larry’s eye, but he was nodding politely at Ty’s tale. “What sinking?” She managed to fill Jen-Jen’s sippy cup with juice and also chop Cole’s sausage into little bites like he liked them but was frantic in her movements.

  “Larry?” she said. “Did you hear anything about any sinking?” She cleared her throat and tried to calm herself. Bigs ripped right into one of the cans of nuts—the cashews—and shook some onto his plate. She watched Mort stuff the tomato salad right between his sausage and bun as if it were a relish.

  “No,” Larry said.

  Ty seemed unfazed that he’d spilled the beans. He nodded his head up and down and reached for the cashews. “Long story I guess, but Uncle Bang said the land for Cherokee Bluff wasn’t inspected right and they got lots of ground water built up under the houses now ’cause it’s so close to the river.” He brushed a few curls from his face with his finger. “Anyway, Anco Builders is gonna be screwed, so they already left the area. You didn’t notice any cracks in your house or anything, did you?”

  Denise nearly cried. She had, but had been convinced over and over by friends and family that all houses settled right after they were built. Even her own mother had said, “Look at our old Victorian. It’s got cracks everywhere, from the settling and shifting over time. Your house is just doing the same. It’s part of the process.” Denise had seen a large crack right where the kitchen and dining room walls met, even though her house was only days old. Larry hadn’t seemed to think it was a problem, either.

  Ty apparently didn’t sense her growing despair and kept on going. �
�You see those two new lots over there?” he said. He pointed to a couple of faded orange ties fluttering on stakes. “Those are the worst ones. They’ve stopped construction altogether there. The contractors said they just can’t build on a swamp.”

  “A swamp?” Denise said. She stopped eating midbite. She could feel Jen-Jen, who sat between her legs, grunting and bearing down in her diaper. The smell soon followed, and she didn’t know if her guests could smell it. She didn’t know if she cared. Cole lined up his sausage bites and stabbed each one with a fork. He hated tomatoes, had eaten the top off his corn muffin, and chewed on the soggy white bun meant for his sausage.

  Denise blinked back tears in her eyes. She and Larry had thrown everything they had into this house. They’d paid more than they’d wanted to, simply because they’d been so sold on the Cherokee Bluff aesthetic and sensibility. Their neighbors were teachers and businessmen. The new doctor from India had just bought the lot one street over. One young couple (Volvo drivers) had just moved in with their three small children.

  “Hey,” Ty said, “don’t worry. Maybe something’ll happen. Maybe they’ll go after them.”

  “They who?” Denise said. Jen-Jen’s diaper was reeking in a vaporous cloud all around her. She could see Mort and Bigs pretend not to notice at first but soon saw their hands go up over their noses. Finally, Cole said, “Someone stinks!” He got up and ran over to throw his sausage pieces to the dogs over in the Hillbillies’ yard.

  “Cole! Stop it! Now!” Denise stood up and shouted.

  “Cole, no,” Larry said.

  “Ha, ha, ha.” The Hillbillies laughed.

  Denise wanted them to go home. She needed to verify if the Hillbillies knew what the hell they were talking about. Although they seemed a bit dim, what they’d told her seemed too complicated to be anything but the truth.