Other folks arrived in good time. A middle-aged woman and her much younger husband—two houses down—brought sour cream brownies. Albert DeWitt, who’d plastered himself to Peg’s side (his wife was covering the restaurant tonight), whispered in her ear that the woman was once a poetry professor at Dartmouth and she’d met her husband when he was a master’s candidate. This was five years ago. The poet had since quit teaching to write a sex guide about Tantric intercourse, featuring photos of her young husband in congress with several other women.
Another man, mid-thirties, who came with ten-year-old twin boys, had been a chief advisor to Howard Dean, and greeted Peg by saying, “Don’t you dare put a penny into the New Hampshire economy. Those fuckers buried us in the primaries. But don’t worry. The Deaniacs have plans for them. First, we’re going to Nashua! Then Portsmouth! Then Concord!” He ended his rant with a primal screech. Everyone giggled and told him to shut up.
Another man, mid-fifties, shaggy like a sheep dog, was a former Olympic downhill skier who’d made his money in fleece endorsements and had retired to a farm four houses down to breed llama. A sixtyish woman (three houses up) owned and operated a wooden-toy shop, and had supported herself for thirty years by selling hand-whittled dolls and miniature rocking horses at country fairs. Another neighbor—a fortyish, quiet man—was, as Albert described, “the worldwide acknowledged go-to guy for antique musket restoration.” A young woman, her husband and three pre-school kids came with a basket of fried chicken. They ran an organic chicken ranch (five houses up), and had killed the birds in the basket only a couple of hours ago, “just for the occasion,” said the pretty redheaded wife with blonde lashes.
Even with Albert steering her through the maze of faces, names and histories, Peg couldn’t keep the information straight. Her neighbors were, as a whole (except for the shy musket guy), friendly, talkative, receptive and, seemingly, glad to have her on their road.
Peg said to Albert, “When they say they’re glad to meet me, they seem to mean it.”
“If they said it, they mean it,” he said.
Peg said, “Linus is in his element.” She’d been watching him glad-hand his way around the party. Wilma, meanwhile, was keeping herself busy, away from the social swirl, by replenishing drinks, removing empty cups, slapping patties on the grill.
Albert said, “I’m not going to talk to you about Linus. I would, but I’m a loyal friend. You can’t drag me into a conversation that reveals his state secrets.”
“State secrets? Such as?”
He shook his head. “You won’t get anything out of me.”
“What exactly does Linus do?” she asked. “In his capacity as mayor, I mean.”
Albert said, “It’s a nominal position, really. His salary is one dollar a year. Manshire is under the official jurisdiction of the township of Norwich. So Linus doesn’t have many legislative responsibilities. He just keeps the town wheels greased.”
“That’s New York speak for bribery.”
“I wouldn’t call what Linus does bribery. I’ll bet you’ve seen some of his mayoral influence in action already,” said Albert.
“I can’t resist that smell for one more second. How would you like a big, juicy hamburger?”
“I’m not sure about eating beef,” said Peg. “I don’t want to turn into a mad cow.”
“The cows in Vermont aren’t mad,” said Albert. “They have been known to get irritated. Annoyed. We have some very vexed cattle. Some might be seriously pissed off. But not mad. Never that.”
“Okay,” she agreed. “I’ll take one seriously pissed off burger. With ketchup.”
He left, and Peg headed toward Linus, across the porch, near the keg, at the center of a circle of people. Of course he was the focus of attention. Except for the rabid Deaniac, who was getting worked up about the new property tax laws, Linus was the most animated in the crowd. Peg wanted to get him to herself. She needed to thank him for all he’d done. And to acknowledge what she’d said yesterday, the love confession. As awkward as it might be, they had to talk about it. Linus knew it, too. He saw her coming, and smiled.
Peg said to the group, “Can I steal Linus for one second?”
They were only too happy to release him to her clutches. As Peg took Linus’s arm, she could have sworn she heard the poetry professor whisper to the toy-maker, “Bachlorette number twenty?” Peg remembered what Albert had said the residents of Manshire being keen to marry off their highest-ranking bachelor. Peg could make herself very popular indeed in town by being Linus’s Ultimate Girlfriend. She’d gain a place in town history. Only problem, besides yet another trip to the Dump: Peg wouldn’t be able to enforce her no-contact policy after the breakup. It would be impossible to avoid Linus in Manshire. Linus was Manshire.
He and Peg walked down the deck steps and toward the pond. “I can’t thank you enough,” she started. “The house. The party. Spanking Chuck Plenet for me. I have no idea what you said to him, but he acted like you were going to exterminate him.”
Linus said, “I gave him the Hollywood treatment. Told him he’d never work in this town again.”
“You threatened him?” she asked coyly. “For me?”
Linus said, “For you and anyone else who might hire him.”
“It’s very exciting,” she said, “to watch you wield your power.”
“Peg, you’re flirting again,” he said.
Old habits. “I’m trying to thank you for your many acts of friendship. I hope we will continue to be friends, even after Inward Bound ends. Because, in all honesty, getting friendly with you has been the best part of the program for me.”
He looked down at her, smiling, eyes sparkling. With any other man, she would think a gaze of such tenderness was a sure bet. That no man would look at her like that unless he wanted her, bad. But with Linus, Peg wasn’t sure about anything
She said, “You know when I said I was falling in love with you?” He nodded slowly. “That was the electricity talking.”
“It was the electricity talking,” agreed Linus.
“The electricity from the wire,” she said.
“What other electricity could I be referring to?”
Peg sighed. “How many other Inward Bound women have you confused mercilessly in this way?”
He laughed. “In what way?”
“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” said Peg. “And I don’t like it. It’s unsettling. I prefer to know what’s going to happen next. And yes, I realize that, right now, as I speak, I’m having a huge breakthrough about my broken-record relationship history. Okay? Are you happy now? Is that what your sexy looks and ‘irresistible’ comments have been leading to? So now I know. I fear the unknown so deeply that I’d rather repeat the same heartbreaking pattern than face something or someone I can’t predict. That’s why falling in love with you is so scary.”
“You’re not falling in love with me.”
“I’m not?”
Linus paused. “You asked if I’ve ever confused other women at Inward Bound,” he said. “I guess I have. You’re not the first client who’s said she had feelings for me. I understand why it happens: I listen, I’m honest. Apparently, I smile a lot.”
“How many?” she asked.
“I’ve done four sessions of Inward Bound. And, so far, four clients told me they loved me.”
“Four?”
“Three women—including you—and one man.”
“And you don’t believe these declarations.”
“The program can be intense and emotional. I seem like a good alternative to their ex-boyfriends. But the love isn’t real. The ski instructor from Killington who told Gloria about the program? Claudia? She thought she loved me, too. Two weeks after the program ended, she met the man she eventually married. If she really loved me, that wouldn’t have been possible.”
“Did you love her?” asked Peg.
“No,” he said.
“Did you love either of the other women?”
“No.”
“How do you know?”
“I wasn’t attracted to them.”
“But you’re attracted to me,” said Peg.
Linus didn’t respond.
She said, “Did you have erotic dreams about any of the others?”
Linus’s jaw dropped. He said, “How did you…?”
“Aha!” she said.
He said, “Look, I don’t have illusions about Inward Bound. I know some people come for an inexpensive month in Vermont, to live in a big house on the river. They merely tolerate the meditation and mountain-climbing. But even if people sign up for the wrong reasons, I want them to get something positive out of the experience. That’s what I get out of it. If I were to get involved with a client—no matter how much I might be enjoying the idea of it—I’d lose all credibility. It would be ethically despicable.”
Peg said, “What about when the program ends in a week? Would it ruin your credibility if you got involved with a graduate?”
“Wilma!” said Linus loudly.
“I know Wilma was a graduate student when you met. I meant a graduate of the…Hello, Wilma!” said Peg. “You’re as light-footed as a cat.”
Wilma had appeared at Peg’s side. She was holding a hamburger, which she gave to Peg, and a Not Dog (tofu in a tube) for Linus.
“Is it true you threw your cell phone into the pond?” asked Wilma, eyes moving from Linus to Peg and back again.
Peg said, “It’s somewhere down there, unless a frog ate it.”
“The keg is dry,” said Wilma to Linus. “I need help tapping a new one.”
“I’m your man,” said Linus.
Wilma said, “You sure are!”
The two of them walked together back to the porch, leaving Peg by herself at the pond. She watched as Wilma put her arm around Linus’s waist. He put his arm over her shoulder.
Peg turned toward the pond. The wind rippled the surface. Peg could have sworn she heard ringing, distant and gurgley.
Chapter 29
Peg woke up to the glorious smell of bacon.
She opened her eyes, and crawled out of her sleeping bag. Careful not to wake up the other Inward Bounders, also in sleeping bags on the floor of the living room at her place, Peg wandered toward the kitchen.
At the stove, Ben was turning over slabs of bacon. “Great party last night. Linus left you the pan,” he said upon seeing Peg. “And the bacon. It’s turkey bacon, unfortunately.”
“Where is he?” she asked, having noticed that he and Wilma weren’t among the bodies in the other room.
“No clue,” said Ben. “Maybe he and Wilma sneaked away.” He raised his eyebrows at her. “If you know what I mean.”
She knew only too well. “I’m not going back to the mansion,” said Peg. “My house is habitable now, thanks to you guys. I’m staying here.”
“You can’t,” said Ben, his fork hovering over the sizzling pan. “You’re part of the group. If you leave, the whole dynamic will change. And it’s just started to get fun. For me anyway.”
The group had formed a bond, and Peg’s leaving would disrupt that. As much as Peg liked being part of something bigger than herself, that plus didn’t make up for the minus of Linus. He may or may not be attracted to her. He and Wilma may or may not be over. Peg may or may not be falling in love with him. But even if Linus was attracted and available, it didn’t matter, because hooking up with Peg would be “ethically despicable” to him.
“I’ll miss you, too,” she said. “But I’ve already learned so much at Inward Bound. I’ve had tremendous emotional growth. Any more growth and I won’t fit into my clothes.”
She was still wearing her shorts and tank top from yesterday. Just the mention of clothes made her desperate to shower and re-dress. But all her stuff was back at the mansion. And her car.
Tracy and Gloria wandered into the kitchen. Ben said, “Peg wants to leave the program.”
“You’re not leaving,” said Tracy. “Do you see yourself as someone who would let down her friends? Is a quitter? Runs away from her fears?”
“Absolutely.”
Ben said, “That’s a strongly agree.”
Gloria said, “If you quit, I’m quitting.”
“Me, too,” said Ben.
“I suppose that forces my hand as well,” said Tracy.
Peg looked at her friends, and felt proud to know them. Proud that they liked her. She said, “Thanks, guys.”
Tracy smiled and said, “So you’ll go back?”
“No way!” said Peg. “You can all stay here. With me. Fuck Linus.”
“Do you want to fuck him over, or just fuck him?” asked Tracy.
“Both,” said Peg. “But I’ll settle for one.”
“You want to fuck Linus?” asked Gloria.
Peg nodded gravely. “I’m afraid so.”
“What about Wilma?” asked Ben.
“Not her. Just Linus.”
“If you want him, then you have to go back to get him,” said Gloria. “Staying here won’t do you any good.”
“If I refuse to go back, he could drive out here and get me,” she said.
Ben shook his head. “He won’t.”
“Why not?” asked Peg.
“He’d file it all under ‘manipulative behavior.’ That’s a major red flag, according to him. If a woman requires what he calls a ‘gallant response,’ Linus told us to rethink our opinion of that woman, that she’s trying to create a story-book romance that has little or nothing to do with true, honest emotion. That it’s possible the entire love she claims to feel is in her imagination.”
Linus already thought Peg’s feelings were faux. Shit. She’d have to go back now, or she’d only confirm Linus’s theory.
“The bacon is burning,” said Peg.
“Forget the training of childhood,” said Linus, standing in the center of the mansion living room later that day. “It’s healthy and essential to talk to strangers. We’re fast becoming a society of isolationists. We prefer ATMs to bank tellers. We prefer shopping online to browsing in a store.”
“We prefer sharp sticks in the eye to Luddite missives,” said Peg under her breath to Tracy.
“The agenda,” said Linus loudly, “is to get used to minor stranger interactions. That way, you’ll get comfortable initiating conversations. More comfort means less anxiety. When you’re anxious, you can’t be yourself. Isn’t that true, Ben?”
“Very true,” said Ben promptly.
“Wilma and I are going to do a little scene here,” said Linus. “Imagine us standing on line at the cash register at Dombit’s.” The two of them stood as if on line. Wilma pretended to hold giant organic watermelons.
Ray said, “Excuse me, ma’am. Can I hold your melons?”
Linus said, “That might get a response, but not the one you’re after. How about, ‘Can I help you with those?’ or ‘First day under ninety in a week. I could use a sweater.’ ”
Wilma turned, still in her role as “woman on line,” smiled radiantly, and said, “Thank you, sir,” as if the intrusion from this handsome stranger had filled the gaping hole of loneliness in her melon-eating life.
Linus dropped his act and addressed the group. “You can offer help, compliment someone’s clothes, make an observation about the weather.”
Gloria said, “I couldn’t compliment someone’s clothes.”
“It’s easy. ‘Nice hat,’ you could say. ‘Nice dress,’ ” suggested Linus.
“I couldn’t say that to anyone in this state,” said Gloria. “It would be a lie.”
“We’re going to Wal-Mart. Now,” said Linus, his endless patience starting to crack. “I want each of you to talk to three people. You can speak to women, men, doesn’t matter. As long as you initiate, I don’t care who you talk to or what you say.”
They piled in the pickup, and drove to the Wal-Mart store in West Lebanon, New Hampshire. Peg wondered if Linus took them out of state intentionally, so they wouldn’t humil
iate him on his home turf. In the store, Peg and Tracy wandered off together, and quickly found themselves in the guns and ammo department.
A bear-sized lumberjack in a denim shirt with the sleeves cut off at the shoulder was stroking a rifle on the rack. Peg said to Tracy, “I dare you to go up to him and say, ‘Nice hat!’ Or ‘I could use a sweater!’ ”
Tracy said, “I dare you to say, ‘Do you know where I can find the feminine hygiene products?’ ”
The two women tittered their way into the entertainment and software department.
Linus lurked nearby. Peg could feel his presence. She scanned the customers, then smiled, finding a stranger to talk to and a good reason to start the conversation. She walked up to a teenage boy, around fifteen, skinny and jittery.
Peg said very loudly, “Hey, kid, aren’t you going to pay for that?”
The teen went white (or should she say, whiter). “You talking to me?” he asked as tough as he could.
Peg had to laugh. He was as intimidating as a baby chick. She said, “The DVD you put down the front of your pants. Are you going to pay for it, or just pad your package?”
“There’s no DVD in my pants,” protested the kid.
Peg took a step toward him. The kid jumped back. His movement made the DVD slide down his oversized jeans’ leg and land on the floor with a clatter.
The kid yelled, “Eat me, bitch!” and ran for the exit.
Tracy, shaking her head, said, “You initiate a conversation and he runs away screaming.”
Peg said, “I think I’m getting the hang of it.”
Wal-Mart was a bust, in terms of social interaction with strangers. But Peg made a few major connections with the sales staff, and managed to buy kitchenware, outdoor furniture and a full entertainment system for her new home. She even arranged a delivery date. Peg had never been inside a Wal-Mart before, but from now on, it was her favorite store in the whole wide world. Tracy made a minor connection with an older woman at the magazine rack. And Gloria easily met her quota cruising the cosmetics aisle.
As they filed out of the store, Linus said, “Tonight, you’re going to pair off and go to different meeting places in the area. Same assignment. Initiate conversation with strangers. I’ll go with Ben. Ray and Luke. Tracy and—”
The Girlfriend Curse Page 22