Ordinary Life (20 page)

“Oh, I know.” I thought, I’m going to kill him.

“Ma, you must be tired. I just wanted you to meet Susan, say hello. We can talk more later.”

She nodded. “Young lovers! You two go right ahead. I’m so glad to meet you, Susan.” She looked at me significantly. “Me too,” I said.

Laurence kissed her. We started to leave the room and she called me over and asked in a low, conspiratorial tone, “Do you like roast beef, honey?”

“Yes, I do,” I said. “Roast beef is just fine.” I was speaking in a low voice too, although I had no idea why.

“I could roast a chicken, too.”

“Either one. But you go ahead and just rest, now.”

“Larry
loves
apple pie,” she whispered. “Do you?”

“Oh yes, who doesn’t?” I raised my voice. “Well, it was very nice meeting you.”

“Okay, dear. Before you go, hand me my phone, will you? I’m going to call my sister. Wait till she hears that I’ve just met my
future daughter-in-law!” I handed her the phone and she waved gaily to me as we left.

In the hall, I squeezed Laurence’s arm and said between my teeth, “I thought she was on her
death
bed!”

He whispered back, “Oh fine, wish my mother the worst!”

“You know what I mean! Now what? I’m not going to her house for roast beef and apple pie, I’ll tell you that.”

“
I
know!”

“Well, what are you going to say? That we broke up on the elevator?” As if on cue, the elevator arrived. We stepped in and I said, “I’ve had it. I want to break up. We’re through.”

The doors closed. Laurence stared straight ahead and said sadly, “Finished. And so soon!”

Back in the car, I punched him on the arm. “She’s not even sick! She looks better than both of us.”

He looked at himself in the rearview mirror. “Do I have those bags under my eyes?”

I imitated him in a nasty, whiny voice. “Do I have those bags under my eyes?”

“All right, I’m sorry!” he said. “She looked much worse yesterday!”

“Oh, never mind. I got to get out of the house, anyway. Let’s go eat. Want some pie?”

“No.”

“Okay, let’s go get some.”

“Okay.”

At our favorite downtown diner after two slices each of banana cream, I said, “I can’t believe she
bought
all that!”

“Oh, it’s because she never believed me when I told her the truth. She’s just been waiting for this. Now she’s happy.”

“But what about you? Look what you’ve done! She’ll probably live to be a hundred and be asking you every day about your upcoming wedding. Why did you do this, Laurence, seriously? Did you really think she was going to die?”

He fingered his coffee cup. “I don’t know, maybe.”

“I think it was a subconscious desire on your part. I think you wanted to think about being married to me, ’cause for a woman, I’m pretty swell.”

“Maybe you’re right.”

I stopped my cup at midpoint. “Really?”

“Maybe we should have an affair.”

“Oh, stop.”

“Maybe we should,” he said. “Don’t tell me you’ve never thought about it.”

“Only when I first met you, five hundred years ago, and I didn’t know you were gay.” I remembered meeting Laurence for the first time in our acting class in college, admiring his wonderful looks, his sense of humor. He’d told me soon after that, “Look, I think I should tell you something. I’m not interested in women … that way.”

“Well,
I
know!” I’d said. “I know that!” But I hadn’t. And I was disappointed. I’d been thinking, Oh boy, a man with clean nails who loves theater and books, a man who’s emotionally available. But then we became good friends and I thought, Well, this is better anyway. Now we won’t get sick of each other. And we didn’t.

“You’ve never thought of it since then?” he asked.

“No! Have you?”

“Oh, sometimes. Sometimes when things are going badly with someone, I think, Maybe it would be easier to be more of a majority
type. You know, pull the Saab into the garage each night, hug the kids, eat supper, and watch television with the wife.”

“God, you make it sound so boring.”

“Well, isn’t that pretty much what you do?”

“Yes. And it is boring. But it’s nice, too. I don’t know—sometimes you think you’re going to scream with the sameness of it all, with the unending chorus, with having to see everyone at their worst, and vice versa. But you always have a date for the prom. You don’t have to eat alone. And then every once in a while John will sort of collapse onto me and say how much he loves me and hold real still and I’ll look out over the top of his head and think, Yes, well, this is all right. And I love Lyn so much! It’s a different kind of dimension in love, kids. Sometimes I really feel sorry for you, that you won’t ever know that kind of love. Do you feel bad about missing it?”

“I see Lyn a lot. She feels like my kid.”

“No, it’s different when they’re really yours.”

“That’s what everybody says. I guess I am sorry I won’t have that. But we all have major regrets about things we’ve missed. I’m sure you do too. Don’t you?”

I thought for a while and then said, “I’m sorry I didn’t take acid and explore the sewers with these friends of mine in college.”

“Who, Ron
Shenk
man and those guys?”

“Yeah, they came to get me to go with them one night. They were these really huge pipes. They said it was … well, what they said was that it was far out. Remember? ‘Far fuckin’ out, man.’ ”

“I didn’t like those guys.”

“Oh, they were all right. They were fun!”

“Exploring the sewers on acid. Really a compelling idea. This is your major life regret.”

“You had to know them. I did take acid with them once. It was at Ron’s house. I really liked looking at his dog, at the plants in his house. They seemed filled with a kind of primordial knowledge; they seemed like
the answer
. I looked down into a flower on one plant, and it was so complex and beautiful and I kept saying, ‘See? It’s all right
here
.’ And then I remember I went outside. It was really dark, and I wasn’t afraid at all, which is really unusual for me. I looked up in the sky and all the stars seemed connected by these white lines, like constellation maps, and I thought, Aha,
that’s
how those guys came up with those things! They ate some LSD and then forty-five minutes later, they were saying, ‘Hey, look! Do you see a
winged horse
up there? How about a bull? Oh wow—he has a red eye! See that? Far fuckin’ out, man! Psychedelic!”

Laurence smiled. “Where did twenty years go?”

“I don’t know. Want to go?”

“Yeah. Let’s leave the waitress a big tip. She had a hanky sticking out of her breast pocket.”

We drove in silence for a while. Then Laurence said, “Well, what do we owe our parents? I just wanted the rest of my mother’s life to be peaceful.”

“Oh, maybe I
should
go to dinner with you, and be really obnoxious—talk with food in my mouth, bang on the table with my spoon while I make obscure political points–and then she’d be happy for you to get rid of me.”

“That would only make you fit right in. She’d probably give you some of her best Tupperware at the end of the evening—a little starter set to officially welcome you into the family.” He sighed, pulled the car over to the side of the road. “I’m depressed. I don’t know what I’m doing.”

I touched his arm. “Well … Laurence. What
is
it?”

He leaned back, stared at the ceiling. “I don’t know! I feel like this voice is saying, ‘Lauuurrrreeence! It’s ten o’cllloooock. Do you know where you are?’ Is this a midlife crisis?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. Want to get out? Walk a little?”

“Sure.” We went into the woods by the side of the road. Laurence looked over at me. “It’s really dark out here. Are you scared?”

“Nah.”

“I’m scared,” he said.

“I know. I’ll help you if I can.”

“I don’t know what I need.”

I sat down on the low branch of a tree, and Laurence sat beside me. I said, “You know, I think when you face the prospect of losing a parent, all kinds of things get shaken up. Maybe you have to sort of redefine yourself, only this time on your own terms.”

“I don’t know. Maybe.” He stood and looked down at me. “For a boring suburban housewife, you’re pretty smart. And you are so beautiful. Still.”

“Laurence
.” I felt my heart rate quicken, and I found it profoundly confusing. I laughed, and it was too loud. Then I cleared my throat.

“You’re nervous!”

“Well, yeah, aren’t you?”

“Yes. Because I would like to kiss you.”

“Laurence, I think you’re taking this whole thing too seriously. I mean, you don’t have to live up to your mother’s expectations, even if she is dying. And by the way, she’s not. She’s getting ready to make a roast beef.”

“I know. It’s just that … I don’t know …”

“Didn’t you ever have a girlfriend?”

“No.”

“So you never kissed a girl, even?”

“No.”

I was incredulous. “Spin the
bottle
?”

“No!”

“Boy!”

He was irritated. “Well, did you ever kiss a girl?”

“Of course! How do you think we practiced for the real thing?”

“A real, sexual kiss?”

“Well, no. It was through a pillow.”

“Right. That’s not it, and you know it.”

I picked up a blade of grass, began to peel thin, supple strips from it. “I’ll kiss you if you want.” He didn’t answer. “Of course, you don’t have to.”

“No, it’s … I do want to.”

“Okay,” I said. “Do you want to be serious? Should I do my best stuff?”

“Yes,” he said, and I heard a slight tremor in his voice. “I want to be serious.”

“Okay,” I said, and closed my eyes.

“I mean it!” he said.

“Okay!” I closed my eyes again. My lids were jerking wildly.

He took his jacket off and spread it on the ground. “Lie down.”

I opened my eyes. “Laurence! That’s your four-hundred-dollar Italian blazer from Mr. Eric’s!”

“You have to be lying down. We have to relax.”

I shrugged. “Okay.” I lay down and smoothed my skirt beneath me.

“You look nice in a dress. I hardly ever see you in a dress.”

“Thank you.”

“And … you smell nice, too.”

I swallowed, and watched as he lay down next to me. He turned on his side, put one hand along the side of my face, pushed his fingers into my hair, and kissed me. His lips were slightly rough, but nice. He was a very sensual kisser. I felt my stomach start to soften, and I kissed him back. It was a long kiss, deep, and when he pulled away I was breathless and full of desire. I thought, Oh, I’ve been married so long. We’re in a kind of rut. Affairs can actually make marriages better. He’s such a good friend, he’s so handsome. I’ll do it. I looked over at him. He was on his back, looking up into the sky. “Are you okay?” I hoped he would rise up and kiss me again soon.

“Yes,” he said. “I’m okay. God, I didn’t feel anything.” I was quiet, and he turned his head to look at me. “I mean,
noth
ing!”

“Fine!” I said. “I
heard
you!”

“Oh.” He touched my arm. “I’m … sorry.”

“It’s okay.” I sat up. “So. So much for thinking maybe you’d make a major change for real. Of course, maybe I’m just not your type.”

He put his hand on my back. “No, if I went for women, you’d be the one.”

I looked at my watch. “I’d better go home. I need to help Lyn with some French.”

“Her teacher’s an asshole, you know.”

“Her French teacher?”

“Yes. Did she tell you what he did to the kid who forgot his homework twice in a row?”

“No, what?”

“He had to stand at the blackboard with his nose in a circle. It was high up—the kid had to stand on his tiptoes.”

“Jesus!”

“She didn’t tell you?”

“No. She tells you everything. I just clean her room.” We walked back to the car. Laurence turned on the radio, then turned the volume down low. “Do I need to say I’m sorry again?”

“I don’t think so. No, you don’t need to apologize.”

“I’m sorry, Susan.”

“Okay.”

“Do you think you should come to my mother’s house for dinner?”

“No!”

“You’re right, this was a stupid idea. But I can undo it all gradually.”

“Yeah, don’t tell her the truth all at once. It can be hard to take.”

“I know.” He reached for my hand.

He drove me home and I told him to go slowly down the neighborhood streets so I could look inside all the houses we passed. I liked seeing people being themselves, walking around in T-shirts or robes, eating something they held in their hands. I liked seeing what was up on all the walls, especially if I hated it. “Look at that
painting
over that couch!” I told Laurence as we passed one ranch-style house.

“Oh, Jesus, look at the
couch
!” he said.

“I can’t believe some people,” I said. “I can’t believe what some people like.”

He drove even slower. He drove so slowly I thought maybe we’d get pulled over for looking suspicious. But we needed to do this. We needed to make sure we weren’t missing anything.