“Don’t get testy. I can agree with you on one point: that there is a fundamental difference between us. You and me.”
“Just one?”
Alice said, “You’re serious unless you’re instructed not to be. I’m not serious unless I’m told that I have to be. Try not to be offended.”
“Or you could try to not be offensive. Either way.”
“Oh, come on.” Alice reached over to shake at his shoulder. “Do you need to go try to move your bowels or something before the others get here? Work yourself into a better mood?”
Mikey said, “I will give you one dollar for every minute you can manage to not speak, starting now, until somebody else gets here.” He pointed at his watch.
Alice completely ignored this and said, “Have you ever read that book . . . oh, wait, now what’s it called? How to Make and Keep Friends? It’s something like that.”
“Do you mean How to Win Friends and Influence People?”
“That’s the one. Anyway, you should probably get yourself a copy.”
Alice got up and did a sun salutation in the middle of the room.
Chapter 16
Sally’s science teacher started talking about the upcoming solar eclipse in October of Sally’s third-grade year, a full month before it was actually set to happen.
Sally mentioned it to Mikey on the bus one morning.
“What is it?” Mikey said.
“It’s a time when the moon goes in front of the sun,” Sally explained. “It’s only happened like a few times ever in the history of the world. Your teacher hasn’t said anything about it yet?”
Mikey shook his head.
“I’m sure she will,” Sally said. “We’re all learning about it, because it’s going to happen while we’re at school. We’re all going to see it together.”
“What will it look like?” Mikey said.
“A big beautiful shining thing, I imagine,” Sally said.
“Okay,” Mikey said.
It was quiet for a little bit.
“It might be the most beautiful thing we’ll ever see in our whole lives,” Sally added.
In the row behind them, Alice was figuring out how to turn on the Supersonic Boombox cassette player she had finally managed to steal from her older brother.
Sally looked back over her shoulder, just as Alice pressed play. The introduction to The Emotions’ “Best of My Love” blared out from the dimpled silver speakers, jazzy descending bass beat, horns accenting the percussion.
Alice shared a seat with Lynn, and in the seat across from them, Sam and Jimmy looked up from their football play-making notebook when Alice’s music came on. Jimmy snapped along with the music while Sam did a funny, seductive little dance in his seat, something he’d learned from MTV no doubt, chubby little hips grooving, lips pushed out.
Alice turned the music up louder when the vocals kicked in. Doesn’t take much to make me happy, and make me smile with glee . . . Lynn nodded along with the music, lips murmuring the lyrics in synchrony with the recording. Never never will I feel discouraged, ’cause our love’s no mystery . . .
Jimmy and Sam joined hands and bumped roughly against each other in their seat. I like the way you make me feel about you, baby, want the whole wide world to see . . .
Alice got up out of her seat when the chorus came on. She turned the volume even louder, heaved the boombox up above her head, and strutted back the aisle of the bus as though it were a runway. She sang very loudly and slightly off-key. Whoa, whoa, you’ve got the best of my love! Whoa, whoa, you’ve got the best of my love! Other students on the bus were taking notice. They watched Alice, pointed, giggled.
From the front of the bus, the driver glared into his broad mirror and hollered, “Clancy!”
Alice ignored him. She continued to dance and sing, up and down the aisle, stumbling but recovering quickly when the bus took a turn. She wore a men’s white V-neck T-shirt that was way too big for her and pants that were way too short. Beat-up Reebok sneakers. A plain black baseball cap backward over a long, thick dark ponytail that swung back and forth like rope as she danced.
Other students began to sing along.
Alice turned the music up all the way, to full volume. Oh oh-oh-oh, you’ve got the best of my love! Oh oh-oh-oh, you’ve got the best of my love!
The bus driver bellowed, “Clancy, sit your ass down!”
Alice wouldn’t stop. Up and down the aisle she went, singing and dancing, the boombox high above her head. Oh oh-oh-oh, you’ve got the best of my love! Oh oh-oh-oh, you’ve got the best of my love! Other students had gotten out of their seats to dance along, the chorus reaching a fever pitch, thirty voices, shrieking joy, madness, Alice leading the charge.
Sally leaned over and whispered to Mikey, “She’s something else.”
When Alice drew close to Sally and Mikey’s seat, she leaned down and said, “What are you waiting for? Get up and dance!” Her breath smelled of strawberry gum; her face was sweating, her dark eyes dangerous.
Mikey said, “I don’t know how.” His father never, ever played music in their home.
Alice said, “Just watch me and do what I tell you.”
Chapter 17
Once Lynn, Issa, and Sam had arrived at the lake house, they all took a seat at the dining room table, with one empty chair remaining for Jimmy, who had yet to provide an update on his arrival time. The room was warmly lit by a rustic cascade chandelier made from real deer antlers and faux white candles. A shelving unit on the modern wood-paneled wall held a large framed photograph of Jimmy’s family from his childhood, a Bible, several potted cacti, a ship in a bottle, and a tiny snow globe featuring the Buffalo skyline.
The caterers produced several large dishes and carried each platter around the table to serve everyone individually. French green beans sautéed with lemon and garlic and white pepper. Pomegranate salad with mint and feta and orange zest. Rolls with butter and honey. Roast lamb with rosemary and arugula pesto.
Sam buttered a roll, bit into it, and said, “What is it with rich people and unsalted butter?”
Wine was served to Mikey, Alice, and Chris, but Lynn, Issa, and Sam all said they’d stick with water.
Alice said, “Sam are you teetotalin’ these days, too?” She turned briefly to Lynn and Issa. “No offense.”
Sam smoothed wispy blond hair back over his brow, a gesture that would have been glamorous had his hairline been intact, and took a sip of his water. “Sort of.”
Mikey had also been surprised moments earlier when Sam declined a drink, but his desire for peace between Sam and Alice surpassed his curiosity. He sensed now that Sam didn’t particularly want to answer the question, and quickly interjected, “I’d be teetotallin’, too, if I knew what was best for me.”
Alice ignored this and turned back to Sam. “Empty calories? Trying to lose a few?”
Sam didn’t respond.
Mikey muttered, “For crying out loud, Alice.”
Alice glared at Mikey and tossed her thick black braid over her shoulder. “Oh, excuse me. Are you offended by my poor manners? Obviously I could stand to lose a few myself. And you could stand to get down from your high horse.”
She turned to address the rest of the table, as though they should all join in conspiracy against Mikey. “Can I not ask a man, if he doesn’t drink, why he doesn’t drink? We’re all friends here.” She dipped her chin toward Chris to her left. “Well, except you.”
Issa lifted his finger and said, “And me.”
Lynn said, “I obviously don’t mind talking about why I don’t drink. I say it to a room of thirty people every week. But some people don’t like talking about it . . . Maybe Sam’s just not in the mood to talk, or maybe there’s nothing to talk about.” Lynn flipped her wrist casually. Her shoulders were small nubs under her oversize black shirt. “Or maybe he doesn
’t like Pinot Noir. Maybe he prefers Shiraz.”
Mikey said, “Or maybe he doesn’t like being interrogated two seconds after sitting down to dinner.”
Sam was stirring the ice around his water with his butter knife. He seemed preoccupied.
“We’re friends,” Alice said again. “Just because we haven’t sat in the same room together in fifteen years doesn’t mean we have to tiptoe around like the friggin’ pope is at the table. I didn’t drive ten hours to be bored. I’m allowed to ask a friend a question, and he’s allowed to say he doesn’t want to answer if he doesn’t want to answer.” She turned to Sam. “It surprises me to see that you’re not having a drink. Would you care to say why, or would you care for me to shut the hell up?”
Mikey said, “Let’s take a vote around the table.”
Alice said, “All right, all right, all right. But it was just an honest question. I don’t see what’s so wrong about that.”
Issa said, “Do you want to know what my mom used to say about honest questions?”
“What’s that?”
“They can be like farts. It feels good to let them out, but once you do, sometimes they just make the whole room stink.”
Everyone laughed, including Sam.
Sam said, “Alice, I don’t mind you asking. It’s not that I have a problem with alcohol, and, yes, I’m always trying to lose a few, but that’s not why either.” He paused and pursed his lips for a moment before a noisy sigh shot out of him. He ran one hand down from his throat to the buttons stretched tight over his belly and smoothed the napkin over his lap. “Beyond that,” he said, “I don’t want to talk about it anymore right now, please and thank you.” He offered a minimal smile.
Alice said, “Are you pregnant?”
Before anyone could respond, she threw her white napkin in the air, a sign of peace, then waved both arms around as though deflecting invisible weapons, and cried, “I’m kidding, I’m done, I’m done!”
Now everyone had a full plate before them, and Alice said, “Let’s do a toast. Here we all are. So let’s drink to that. It’s really very nice and very cool being together again. Too nice for this to be entirely depressing, even given the circumstances. So, to being here.”
“To being here.”
“Being together.”
“To being here, together.”
“Being together.”
They raised glasses, and as the others began to eat, Sam bowed his head briefly in prayer.
When he opened his eyes, seeming restored, he announced that he’d never had lamb before.
“Ever?” Chris said.
Lynn said, “Mikey, you’re big into cooking these days. Have you made lamb?”
Mikey nodded. “I did a braised shank when I first got my Crock-Pot,” he said.
Alice said, “The last thing I did in my Crock-Pot was a shoe.”
“Did you say a shoe?”
Chris laughed. “She’s not lying, you guys!”
Mikey said, “Why on earth—”
Lynn said, “Did you eat your shoe?”
Sam said, “Alice, you are so weird.” He had not yet taken a bite of his meal, but he was still staring at the setup before him. He leaned toward Issa and said, “Which fork am I supposed to use?”
Issa said, “Beats me. I’m just using the little one ’cause she is.” He nodded toward Lynn.
Lynn said, “I think you do salads with the little one, meat with the big one. But I don’t know about the beans. We really need Jimmy here to teach us how the rich live. Also, is there salt in that Mason jar? Weird. Can you pass me that?”
Alice said, “Correction, it wasn’t a shoe. It was a boot.”
Sam said, “Explain.”
Alice said, “A few months ago, time came to retire the pair of boots I’d had for years. I worked up a big salty beef roast, then took the meat out, stuck my boot in and slow-cooked it in that fatty broth for six hours.”
“How’d it turn out?” Sam said.
“Finn loved it,” Chris said. She had already finished her glass of wine and now was reaching to take a sip from Alice’s glass. “He ate the whole stinkin’ boot!”
Alice gave a proud glance around the table, then took her glass back and set it on the far side of her plate, out of Chris’s reach.
Chris said, “Alice loves Finn more than me. She’s never once cooked a meal for me in the whole time we’ve been together. Boo-hoo-hoo.”
Mikey tried not to stare. Genuinely, genuinely disturbed by the voice. It felt like a betrayal.
Alice swallowed the food in her mouth and said neutrally, “Don’t take it too hard, hon. I love Finn more than me, too. Mikey, how’s your cat?”
Mikey said, “Happy and handsome.”
“No more cancer?”
“No more cancer.”
When Friday was four years old, a bad cancer had grown in his shoulder, and it cost Mikey three paychecks to have it removed, along with Friday’s front left paw, where the cancer had spread.
Alice said, “Did you save his paw? The one they removed?”
Mikey snorted. “Yes. I put it on a string and use it like a toy for him to chase around.”
Alice stared at him. “Are you serious?”
“No! Are you nuts?”
“Sorry,” Alice said. “I didn’t realize you had developed such a daring sense of humor.” She sipped from her wine. “But you didn’t want to wear it around your neck or keep it in your pocket, like a rabbit’s foot? I mean, what is there, a special recycling bin at the vet’s office for tumors and paws? If you care about your pet, you should care what happens to their paw.”
Mikey made a face. “Must you have such a strong opinion about everything?”
“Yes. Especially irrelevant things that I know nothing about.” Alice stated this with great bravado, a finger in the air.
Issa laughed very loudly. “You know what? I actually agree.”
Alice said, “You and I are going to be such good friends!” She poured more wine for herself and sent the bottle around the table. She rose to retrieve another from the cabinet, flinging a triumphant smile back over her shoulder.
When she returned, Sam was poking at the medium-rare center of his lamb with his fork and whispered, “Do you think they’d cook this up a little bit for me? I don’t wanna offend the cook, but I’m not too big on blood.”
Alice sliced off the medium-well edges of her cut, and she sent it down the table to Sam. “I’ll trade you,” she said. “Send me your bloody scraps.”
Sam said, “Do you remember when those neighborhood bullies, Pete and what’s-his-name, smeared raw meat on the front porch of The Gunner House?”
Lynn said, “That’s right! After we stole the chains off their bikes. Damn, those guys were tough and scary. One of them had a ponytail and—”
“The other one had a mustache!” Sam said.
Alice said, “Whatever happened to those guys anyway? Pete and . . . Jackson, was it? You know what became of ’em, Mikey? They stay in the area? I think they both dropped out of school around their sophomore year, didn’t they?”
Mikey nodded. “I heard Pete’s in the clink. Stabbed his grandma.”
“Oh, no!” Lynn said. “Really?”
Mikey nodded. “Something about milk. He was living with her at the time. She got one percent instead of two. Or the other way around.”
Sam said, “Oh, no!”
“Sheezus!” Alice said. She turned to Mikey. “And you thought I had strong opinions . . .”
Lynn asked Sam about his work.
Sam said, “I got employee of the month twice now. Company of three hundred. It’s just ’cause I kiss my boss’s behind, but it’s all right. They’ve given me some neat things. Branded fleece, the right size and everything, had it made special for me. And when you g
et employee of the month, they give you fifty bucks and your own parking spot. I get to park next to the handicaps.”
Mikey said, “And all’s well with your church?”
Sam’s emails often focused on church activities: hayrides and ice cream socials, a new kid they were sponsoring in Venezuela, food drives for the community, visiting missionaries from the Sudan.
Alice emitted a small groan.
Sam turned to her. “What’s that now?”
“What?”
“You made a sound.”
“Did I? It was involuntary,” Alice said. “I was just preparing myself to feign interest in church.”
“Oh,” Sam responded, appearing unfazed. He chewed intensely for several seconds, then deposited a small fatty bit of lamb into his napkin. “Well,” he said again, wiping his lips, which were shiny with grease, “this may actually interest you, believe it or not. Pastor who’s been there for ten years got the boot about a year ago. Messy business.”
Alice said, “Oh, delicious! What’d he do? Seduce everybody’s wives?”
Sam said, “Just a few of them.”
“Really?” Alice said, her expression wide with delight. “Say more.”
“Messy business,” Sam said again. “Went for all the women who were involved in the AA program the church runs. He’d wait for the session to end, then offer private prayer sessions for anyone who wanted them.”
“Oh, what a dog!” Lynn cried.
Alice said, “What a smoothie-boy white knight! Commie bastard!”
Mikey hadn’t a clue what, specifically, Alice meant by this. Her insults were often obscure, which conveniently rendered them indisputable.
Sam cut into his lamb. “Sure. Everyone was pretty darn shocked. The board met, ousted the guy before the next Sunday.”
“So what’s he doing now?” Mikey said.
“You guys are gonna love this,” Sam said. He took a sip of water, breathing heavily from the effort of sawing the rest of his meat into bite-size pieces, then said, “Nowadays, he’s writing historical romance novels, all of them about famous ladies’ men and their lovers. Gets ’em self-published. Me and Justine looked him up on Amazon. Titles like Ben Franklin Leaves No Trace.”
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