The three other women looked at her strangely. Wilma said, “I’m glad you’ve sought help, Peg.”
After lunch of fresh-picked berries and Cabot cheddar, Wilma took the woman to a lumberyard and had them swing axes, chopping cord, for three hours, practically applying the lesson that they were capable, no matter what they might think, of spotting and cutting out the dead wood in their lives. After dinner of fresh-killed rabbit stew, the women retired to their suite to pack their arms in ice.
The next morning (Thursday), Wilma announced at breakfast that the morning meditation was canceled. “We’re going biking,” she said.
Riding on the hills of Vermont was pleasant but painful. Peg welcomed the ache in her thighs. Anything to keep her from thinking about sex. Although pumping for hours on a phallic-shaped bike seat might not do much to distract her.
They rode fifteen or so miles to Lake Fairlee. Tracy bitched and complained the entire way out, even though the ride was mainly downhill (going back would be absolute hell). Wilma directed the Inward Bounders into the main entrance of Aloha Hive, a girls’ sleepaway camp.
“Maybe we can mooch a lunch,” she said. “The director is a friend of Linus’s.” They sat at a table with eight seventh-graders and pigged out on fried chicken and mashed potatoes.
The girls were thirteen or fourteen. At first, they were pretty shy. Not saying much, but watching in awe as three grown women tore into fried chicken like tissue paper.
A girl with braces and yellow hair tapped Gloria on the arm and said, “Are you good with makeup?”
“I’m not good,” said Gloria when she finished chewing. “I’m GREAT!”
That was all the girls needed to hear. They grabbed Gloria, Peg and Tracy by the hands and tugged them toward their bunk, leaving a plate of brownies and a pitcher of bug juice on the table. Along the way, the braces girl said, “We have a social tonight with the boys’ camp across the lake.”
“And you want a makeover,” said Gloria.
“Can you make us hot?” asked a scrawny girl with pimples and dishwater hair.
“Absolutely,” said Gloria.
The pharmacy heiress, who’d gotten every cosmetic in her dad’s store for free from age six, knew her way around a blotter and blush brush. Peg watched from a cot as Gloria gave each kid an overhaul, expertly transforming the ducklings into ducklings with painted faces. Tracy fixed their hair into French braids that were doused with spray to hold them until later that night.
Peg smiled and watched, listening as these pubescent kids bubbled with excitement at the idea of spending chaperoned hours with a bunch of awkward and, probably, far less mature-for-their-age boys. Out of the bunk’s screen door, Peg noticed Wilma sitting by herself, face to the sun, on the mess hall porch. Eating a brownie.
Peg realized then that they’d been setup. Wilma had made it seem spontaneous. The “Oh, let’s go this way” on the ride out. Her “Maybe we can mooch a lunch.” The “Extra seats at this table” when they entered the mess hall. Peg assumed the lesson of the day was to show the In-mates just how early in life this whole business started. Socials, boys, decorating ourselves for their approval. To count up from thirteen how many years of excitement, rejection and disappointment every woman had to log in by the time she hit an age when marriagelessness became genuinely frightening.
On the ride back, Peg was taken over by it—the ignorance and innocence of thirteen. Gloria and Tracy must have been subdued by it, too. No one spoke much as they pedaled home, nor at dinner.
Once they returned to their suite before bed, Gloria said, “I envy those kids. Being with boys, men, should be excitement and butterflies. All the rest of it, the things it becomes—anxiety, confusion—that’s the opposite of fun.”
Tracy said, “Right now, one of those girls is standing alone while all her friends are dancing.”
Chapter 16
“Not dates exactly,” said Linus. “We call them ‘interpersonal exercises.’ ”
The Inward Bounders—having suffered through one more day of metawhorisms while weeding the flower beds surrounding the mansion (“Weeds grow quickly and choke off nutrients for the plants that grow slowly and bear fruit,” said Wilma while Peg stabbed the wet earth with her trowel)—sat in the living room for their intro to Week Two. It was already afternoon.
“You will be paired off each night,” said Linus. “Wilma or I will chaperone and observe your behavior. The next day, you’ll be evaluated on your performance, and given goals to enact the following night.”
Tracy said, “Three couples, only two of you.”
“I’ll have auxiliary chaperones,” said Linus. “Friends of mine.”
They ate an early supper, and Linus instructed each Inward Bounder to find a quiet spot and make a list of goals for Week Two. The list was supposed to reflect any new thinking about relationships gained during Week One.
Peg decided to swim across the Connecticut River to New Hampshire (less than a quarter-mile distance), and hang out on the Dartmouth College boat dock. She’d take in some sun, gawk at the undergraduate crew guys. Think. Ideas might flow if she was away from the Federal, away from Ray.
The time spent with the Aloha camp girls had dislodged long-buried hurts in Peg’s mind, blackening her mood for two solid days. As she changed into her bikini and went outside, Peg realized that her adolescent miseries had only been extended in her adult dating life. All along, she’d been chasing the approval of men. Searching for the thrill of puppy love, the uncomplicated joys of attention, being asked to dance, not being the girl alone in the corner. Except, for all the male approval she’d won, her relationships hadn’t moved beyond puppy love. She’d never had a mature love, one that was founded on solid ground. This was exactly what Wilma and Linus had been beating into her head for a week.
The message had reached its target. And now, if her intellectual reckoning could squelch her unrelenting sex drive, maybe she could—by luck or will—lift the Curse of the Ultimate Girlfriend. Maybe, one day, not too many years from now, she’d find lasting happiness.
She dove off the Federal’s puny dock. The water was cold at first. Peg swam in long strokes, reaching the other side quickly. She hoisted herself onto the Dartmouth boat dock, the floating cubes of plastic held together by thick wire, and found a spot on the end to dangle her feet, far enough away from the score of college kids on summer session to avoid eavesdropping on their conversations. She lay back, enjoying the bobbing sensation as the dock rose and fell with the waves of a passing motorboat.
Minutes later, a shadow darkened her eyes. She opened them, having to blink, and saw a male figure standing over her, arms at his sides, wet hair dripping, surfer-style swim trunks.
He said, “I like your bikini.”
“Ray, we’re supposed to be alone, in quiet contemplation of the various ways we’ve fucked up all our lives,” she said.
He sat down next to her, his feet splashing into the water. “I watched you swim over here.”
She said, “Linus told me he’d kick me out if I didn’t back away from you.”
Ray said, “You let that stop you? I thought you came here for me.”
Was he hurt? “I did,” she said. “But since I’m in this program, I thought I’d try to get something good out of it. You should, too.”
“I haven’t been impressed so far with Linus’s methods. I’ve sawed tree branches, hauled well water, milked cows,” he said. “The only good thing I’m going to get out of this is you.”
Before she could respond, Ray leaned back on his elbow and kissed her.
When he pulled away, Peg said, “You milked a cow?”
“It was pretty cool,” he said. “I tugged an udder.”
Peg asked, “What was the relationship moral?”
“Something about naked vulnerability.”
“Don’t say ‘naked.’ ” Peg barely had any clothes on as it was.
“Can we find a more private spot?” he asked, glancing back at the s
tudents.
“Are you sure you want to walk past all those college girls in your condition?” She looked at his swim trunks.
“I’ll give them the thrill of their lives,” he said, laughing. “The suit has a pretty good lining. And it’s baggy.”
Peg would have loved to go off with Ray, find a spot among the trees on the hill behind the boathouse. But what of her inchoate insight? She said, “Maybe we should wait until the program is over. It’s only three weeks.”
Ray said, “I can’t wait.”
From the look in his eyes and the tightness of his voice, Peg knew he meant it. Of course he could wait. Sexual frustration wasn’t, as yet, a high-ranking killer among American males. He just didn’t want to. For the first time, instead of being swept up by a man’s urgency, Peg was able to think first. A clear sign of progress! She would have to tell Linus.
She said, “I think we should stay right here and have a nice conversation. We could get to know each other better. Become friends. Did you know that relationships that start as friendships are more likely to end in marriage?”
He said, “And relationships that begin with passion are bound to fail?”
“Of course not,” said Peg.
“Okay, then,” said Ray.
He leaned down and kissed her again, a sweet brushing of lips and the touch of cheeks warmed by the sun.
He said, “Let’s take a walk.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” she said. A couple of the students were looking at them now. “The kids are watching us.”
He said, “If you won’t leave, we’ll have to frighten the children.”
He lay down next to her and started sucking her ear. Sucking, nibbling, licking just the fleshy lobe. The sensation, the snapping to of her nerve endings. He might as well have been sucking (nibbling, licking) her in another place, the way she responded. A moan of lust and defeat escaped her lips, and Peg gave in. She’d let him. But they’d stay on the dock. How far would he try to go in full view of a dozen people? A simple kiss wasn’t diving feetfirst into disaster. It was nothing. A trifle.
When they came up for air, the sun had disappeared behind the mountains, and the dock was dark and deserted. Hours had gone by.
He said, “Finally, we’re alone.”
He went for her bikini strap.
What now? Peg wondered.
He unhooked her top, and pulled it off. He moved on top of her, whispering, “This is right, you know it is.” It was a beautiful night. Warm, quiet, the water lapping gently on the dock, silvery clouds against the black sky.
Did she see herself as someone who would fuck on a college boat dock a man she’d met a week ago?
In her previous life, that would’ve been “strongly agree.” When she’d swum out here, it would’ve been “strongly disagree.” And now? Ray put his hand inside her bikini bottom and her resolve melted. She couldn’t be strong all the time. Peg closed her eyes.
Suddenly, a beam of light hit her lids, as if the sun had been turned back on.
Ray said, “What the fuck?” and rolled off.
She pulled herself up on her elbows, and squinted. She and Ray were trapped in a white circle, the beam coming from a point at the top of the dock. The light was so bright, when she looked at Ray, and at her own half-nude body, she could see every detail, as if it were high noon.
“You two!” said a voice behind the beam. “You’re trespassing on private property.”
Peg fumbled for her bikini top.
Ray stood. He said, “Turn off the fucking flashlight.”
Flashlight? It was a klieg light. The policeman, security guard, whatever, said, “Leave the premises immediately, or I’ll arrest you for indecent exposure and lewd behavior.”
“You can’t arrest us,” said Ray defiantly. “We’re citizens, with rights!”
This was not the time for civil disobedience. Peg said, “Ray, let’s just go.” But where? Back into the water? It was black as ink. Walk over the bridge and the additional half mile to the Federal in a bikini and bare feet? Peg tried to look across the river to locate the mansion, but from within the beam of light, she couldn’t see anything.
The next sound Peg heard was the squawk of a walkie-talkie. The policeman talked again. “I’ve got two trespassers on the crew dock. They’re giving me a hard time. Better come on down with the squad car. And the stun gun.”
Peg didn’t like the sound of that. She slid into the river. Ray shouted to the cop, “Come and get me if you’ve got the balls!” and dove off the dock. The white beam stayed on them as they swam, making it nearly impossible to see where they were going. As they made some distance, Peg thought the light would fade. But no. It was just as bright from halfway across the river.
And then, as if one klieg light wasn’t enough, another tracker beam hit them, this one from the Vermont side. Instinct told her the second beam was coming from the Inward Bound Federal. She swam toward it. Ray swam next to her, continuing to shout insults at the cop.
A bullhorn sounded from behind them. “Don’t come back to New Hampshire if you know what’s good for you!”
That blast made all the houses along the river light up. Suddenly, more beams were on them. Three, four, five. Aimed right at them as if they were fugitives on the run. Peg thought she could hear laughter and whistles bouncing across the water.
Finally, Peg and Ray made it to the other side. They couldn’t find the boat dock, so they had to wade through slimy weeds to get up on the bank. Once there, the whoops and whistles got louder. Standing next to her in the circle of light, Ray took a bow. She could hear applause and laughter from all directions. Ray waved at the spectators he couldn’t see, pumping his arms over his head like a prizefighter. Peg left him in the spotlight, and trudged up the hill. She got her bearings and found the footpath along the river.
When she reached the Federal’s dock, she was hit anew by a massive flood of light.
Pinned in it, she said, “I can explain everything.”
An eruption of laughter. The light clicked off. When her eyes adjusted, she saw all the Inward Bounders lined up on the porch. Wilma, Linus, Luke, Tracy, Gloria and Ben, each holding a bottle of Magic Hat. Except Linus. He was holding an enormous flashlight.
Ray appeared at her side, took a few more bows, to great applause. “Thank you,” he said. “Thank you very much.”
Dripping wet, the swimmers took the stairs up to the porch. Peg accepted a beer from Linus. Ray wandered toward Luke and Ben to receive high fives and a cigar.
To Linus, Peg said, “Are you going to kick me out?”
He said, “Nah. I like having you around.”
“You called the cops on us?” she asked.
He said, “I was concerned for the safety of my charges.”
“What is this thing?” she asked, pointing at the flashlight.
He handed it to her. It was at least five pounds with a bulb the size of a saucer. He said, “It’s a SuperLight. Two million candle power, five-thousand-watt bulb, with a visibility range of one mile. They’re great for hiking at night, spotting deer and bears. Everybody’s got one. But you’ve probably gathered that by now.”
“You called the neighbors, too?”
He shook his head. “The bullhorn caught their attention.”
Wilma said, “How’s that list coming, Peg?”
“List?”
“Of your goals for Week Two. What you want to get out of your interpersonal exercises.”
She looked at Ray, still charged from his turn in the spotlight(s).
Peg said, “I’m working on it.”
Wilma said, “Sometimes it helps to figure out what you don’t want first.”
“Way ahead of you, Wilma,” she said.
Chapter 17
“Pretend I’m a typical man,” said Linus Bester. “For the moment, I want you to forget that I’m a psychologist and relationships expert.”
From her seat on the couch, Peg would not have a problem with those
instructions. Linus looked nothing like a Ph.D., or an expert in anything but hugging trees. He wore a tie-dye T-shirt, cargo shorts with Birkenstocks and the red-bead leather anklet. Peg studied Linus’s feet. She liked them, the long toes, and callused heels from running. He had sweet legs, too. Long. Ripped. He was smiling at the women, as usual, Mr. Friendly with the anti-freeze blue eyes and shiny brown hair. He was the picture of earnest good intentions.
He’d last ten minutes in New York, thought Peg. Then again, who was she to talk? She’d run screaming from the city and come north, just for the chance to meet a man like Linus. But not him. Definitely not him. Peg had her heart set on a woodsy guy, not a crunchy one.
“Now,” said Linus. “As a typical man, what do you think I want out of a relationship? Write a list. Feel free to draw from personal experience.”
Tracy and Gloria sat on either side of Peg on the living room couch. Those two immediately scribbled on their legal pads. Peg doodled. She just couldn’t go there yet. It was simply too early on a Monday morning to crawl down memory lane.
She’d had a proper Sunday. Peg walked to the Manshire Inn for a saturated-fatty and nitrate-laden breakfast of bacon, eggs, buttery toast, dark coffee, OJ, hash browns, sausage and honey buns. She sat alone. Ate and ate. Then rolled herself out of there, and checked her cell phone messages in the parking lot of Dambit’s. She got service, miraculously. A dozen messages from her parents, Nina, Jack, the exterminator, the real estate broker. Peg called mice-sympathizer Chuck Plenet and got his voice mail. She called Bertha the Broker, who was in Woodstock at an open house. She tried to call her parents, to assure them that she hadn’t been carted off by deer hunters, but the signal died. Peg considered driving over to her farm. But she was afraid of the carnage.
On the walk back to the Federal—belly painfully full—Peg vowed to get control of herself. Eat right. Exercise. Avoid Ray. Peg would get up early, join Linus for his dawn jog, no matter how tired she was the next day.
The Girlfriend Curse Page 11