The Crash of Hennington (30 page)

—That explains the paranoia, then.

—I am
not
being paranoid.

—You’re certainly not acting yourself.

—Neither are you. You’re playing devil’s advocate because you don’t want to run for Mayor.

—I’m playing devil’s advocate because my saying I don’t want to run clearly isn’t enough to convince you of the fact that
I don’t want to run!

—Why are you making me beg you?

—Are you even listening to yourself? If it’s so all-fired important that someone run against Thomas Banyon, then why don’t
you
run?

—I can’t run.

—Why not? There’s no law. Everyone’s mourning your retirement anyway. Seems like a no-brainer to me.

—Besides the fact that I don’t want to—

—Sounds familiar.

—I can’t run.

—Why not?

—Because.

—'Because'? Even Talon doesn’t let me get away with that.

—Because I think it’s exactly what Jon wants, that’s why. It’s just a hunch, but for some reason, I think he wants me to run again. He’s gotten some bizarre scheme into his head.

—That doesn’t make any sense.

—Nothing he’s done so far has. But I just know, I
feel
it in my heart, that running would be playing right into his hands.

—And that would necessarily be a bad thing?

—Oh, my dear, I don’t think any of us have any idea how bad.

—You’ve no proof of this?

—Only that it’s the one explanation that holds everything together.

—It’s the one explanation that holds everything together that you
know.
It’s also mightily self-centered.

—I have my reasons.

—I can’t change this decision based on a hunch. I can’t upheave my life again based on a feeling.

—But you might if I found out more?

—I didn’t say that. I was just pointing out the faults in your argument to convince me.

—Then I’ll find out more and convince you.

—I said—

—I know, but I need to find out more anyway. I’ll tell you when I do. I don’t think I’m wrong, though. Something bad is on the horizon. I can feel it. Ever since I saw him again, I felt it. Something’s in the works. Something that needs to be stopped.

—You’re talking like a superhero again.

—Oh, Max, if only I
was.

66. Young Man’s Fancy.

—I’m telling you, she
is.

—No, she isn’t.

—Are you blind? Watch the way she looks at you.

—She’s just being friendly.

—Take it from someone much older and much more experienced. She’s interested.

—Why would she be interested in me?

—Why
wouldn’t
she? Look at how handsome you are. You’ve cleaned yourself up. You’re dressing better—

—Thanks to you.

—Your skin is clearer than I’ve ever seen it, and you’ve gotten rid of that awful gauntness that made you look half dead. She thinks you’re attractive. It’s obvious to everyone in the restaurant.

—Give me a break.

—I’ll do no such thing. Here. Miss? Miss?

—What are you doing?

—Is everything all right?

—Perfectly, but I do think we’ve got a potential case of missed opportunity if I don’t say something.

—Jon—

—What’s your name, miss?

—Jill.

She tapped her nametag. It read ‘Jill'.

—So it is. Jill, I’d like you to meet Eugene.

She turned and smiled at Eugene, but all she could see was the back of his head as he stared down into his plate. He mumbled something to his dessert.

—What was that, Eugene?

—I said hello.

—He’s going to require the patience of a saint, my dear girl, but I assure you, he’s worth it.

—Is he your son?

—Yes, why not? Tell me, marvelous Jill, provocative Jill, where are you from?

—I was born here in Hennington.

—Ah, a native! So is Eugene.

—Really? Wherc’d you go to high school?

—Cascade.

—Me, too! When did you graduate?

—I dropped out.

—Only to follow his dream, dear Jill.

—What dream is that?

—Bass player in a band.

—Cool! I play drums in a band down at the Hive on Tuesdays.

—See, a match made in heaven. What are you doing tonight, percussive Jill? Because I know for a fact Eugene has the night off.

—I’m free tonight.

—Perfect. When does your shift end?

—Seven.

—Then he’ll pick you up here at seven. Sound good?

—Sounds good to me? What about him?

—Yes, Eugene, what about you?

Eugene’s response was a blush so crimson both Jon and Jill thought for a moment he might be choking. His response was a whisper.

—If it’s okay by you.

When he pulled up six hours later in the Bisector, he was still blushing. Before he could get out, she opened the passenger door herself and hopped in.

—Hi!

—Hey.

—This is okay with you, isn’t it? I mean, you can just give me a ride home if you want. Your father kind of forced the issue, and I mean, I think you’re totally cute and that shyness thing is really attractive, but you know, I’m only fine with it if you’re fine with it, okay?

—No. No, I want to.

—What’d you say?

—I said I want to.

—Then the first rule is you have to actually look at me once before we go anywhere, okay?

She had a short, black bob of hair that framed an open, smiling face. Her nose was small, perhaps a bit too small, throwing her enormous green eyes into even greater relief. The green was the color of dark moss and gave her a literate air that contradicted the way she smacked her chewing gum. She wasn’t outrageously beautiful. She was better. She was
accessibly
beautiful.

—Sorry.

—Nothing to be sorry about. You’re just shy. This car is incongruent with known reality, you know? I mean, I see it, here it is, I’m sitting in it, and I still don’t believe it exists. It’s like a carnival or something, all on its own.

—So that’s … good?

—Oh, yeah. Points already on the car alone, but trust me, I’m not that shallow. I mean, I am, but there’s depth below the shallows. Where are we going?

They went miniature golfing. By the seventh hole, Eugene had only produced forty-three words of conversation.

—I counted. Look, it’s only a certain amount of fun to do all the work, then it just becomes plain work. You’re cute and all, but I could have this much fun at home with my hand and a mirror, all right?

Eugene took his putt between the swinging arms of the giant wooden gorilla before he answered.

—I’m sorry.

—The eleventh time you’ve said that.

—I’m just … You’re just …

—Ye-esss?

—So much prettier than the girls I usually go out with.

—Oh, your first full sentence and you hit the bullseye.

She smiled at him, and for the first time, it was a pure smile, without bluster. It was even almost bashful. She looked away from him.

—I’m not that pretty.

—What are you talking about? Have you even
seen
yourself?
I’m
the one who’s a pain to look at.

—Are you high? You’re totally handsome. I didn’t think in a million years that you’d even show up tonight.

—You’re kidding. I didn’t think
you’d
be there.

—And yet here we both are.

—I know. So this was all—

—Bravado and girly stupidity. I thought I could brazen my way into a good-night kiss and then you’d never call again.

—I thought you were only coming on the date because Jon asked you to and you were too nice to say no.

—I wouldn’t waste a whole evening out of politeness. I’m not dumb. I thought your father would make you come because otherwise I’d be stranded. You call your father by his first name?

—He’s not my father.

—He said he was.

—He’s my boss. He does stuff like that.

—So we’re both here despite the fact that we each think the other is here only out of courtesy?

—Or that we’re giving each other a pity date.

—How desperate is that? Shit, what does that say about us?

—That we’re both kind of pathetic?

—Or that we’re made for each other.

—I don’t think it’s a pity date. I think I’m lucky that you were there when I pulled up.

—And I think I’m lucky you pulled up.

They stood staring at each other, holding the gaze long past where it should have been uncomfortable. The gorilla’s arms went slowly up and then slowly back down. Eugene held up his club.

—I don’t even like miniature golf.

—Neither do I.

—Want to go get something to eat?

—And talk for a bit, now that you’ve got your tongue back?

—Yeah.

They didn’t even take the equipment back to the clubhouse, leaving their clubs and balls at the seventh hole, joining hands as they stepped back on the path. The gorilla swung its arms in silent protest as they disappeared into the night.

67. Old(er) Man’s (and Woman’s) Fancy.

—Ooh.

—Oh, my heavens.

—With … ouch … with those—

—What was that?

—Shh, just let it happen.

—There, yes, there,
that.

—What?

—Slowly now.

—Who … No … right there …
there.
Who am I touching?

—Me?

—Then who is this right here?

—Me again.

—Good Lord, the
flexibility—

—I’ve got it—

—Hold on, I want to—

—Up, up, up, up, up, up.

—My
God
, that feels … so—

—Here, take hold here.

—Okay.

—And you grab onto here—

—All right, now let’s all of us—

—Moving—

—Slowly, don’t lose it.

—With the … Oh!

—Nice, isn’t it?

—Good God.

—Albert?

—I’m dumbfounded.

—I told you.

—Wow, in fact … in fact—

—Go ahead, it’s what we’re here for.

—Cora?

—Please, Albert, yes, please, I’m ready whenever you—

—Aaaaaahhhhhhhh!

—Yes! Very nice.

—Very nice indeed.

—I’m … wait … I’m going … Unnnnnnhhh!

—Hold her head. There we go—

—Oh, goodness.

—Just—

—With—

—Here—

—Come on—

—Excellent!

—And Kevin makes three.

—Man, oh, man.

—That was—

—I know.

—With the—

—I know.

—Hold on, my arm—

—Where?

—Darling, could you—

—Yes, here.

—Thank you. They lay breathing.

—I think I’m going to have a cold glass of water.

—What,
now?

—Yes, anyone want anything?

—Just a moment’s rest is all.

—I’m with her.

—You two. You’re going to wear me out, and that’s saying something. I’ll be right back.

Kevin smiled that warm smile of his. As he walked away from the bed, they both watched his naked backside, so smooth and compact, with the delightful pattern of hair creeping up his thighs. He turned to them as he went out of the bedroom, smiled again, and closed the door.

—Quite something.

—Isn’t he, though?

—For kind of a little guy, he’s got real oomph. I mean,
what
was
that? Where does someone even learn to do something like that?

—Who cares as long as he does it again?

—Do you think we’re giving him any pleasure?

—I think it’s obvious, isn’t it? Why would he keep coming back?

—You would just think he’d have other, you know, people to meet.

—What does that mean? ‘Other people to meet'. He’s not a public service, Cora.

—Don’t laugh at me. You know. People his own age. People who could give him more than we can. More quality time. More of the things of a proper relationship.

—Oh.

—Surely you concede he deserves it.

—I see what’s going on.

—What?

—I see where you’re headed with this.

—What are you talking about?

—You’ve got a little crush on our dear Kevin.

—What? Well,
of course,
I do. Don’t you? He’s different from the ones we’ve had before. He’s kind. He’s generous. He has a brain
and
a decent job.

—Which he’s really good at, by the way. He’ll be the auction house’s senior art appraiser by year’s end, you just watch.

—And he’s good-looking, too, in just the right way, without being boring about it. I can’t figure out why he’s not setting hearts afire citywide.

—You’re afraid he’s going to dump us.

—Aren’t you?

—No.

—You’d be willing to see him go?

—Of course not. I’m not afraid because I don’t think he’s going to.

—It has to end eventually.

—Why?

—What do you mean ‘why'? You know good and well why.

—Tell me.

—We’re twice his age. Our attractiveness is only going to stick around for a little while even to the most generous of eyes. Plus, we’re a couple. Two’s company and three’s a crowd. Jealous alliances always happen with
trois.
It’s only a matter of time before someone gets hurt.

—Those are all nonsense reasons.

—Not all.

—Just conventional wisdom, nothing more. And if we had ever believed conventional wisdom at any point in our lives, then you and I wouldn’t be together either.

—You’re not suggesting—

—I’m not suggesting anything. I’m only telling you that, yes, I’m terribly fond of him as well and I don’t want this to end, but that I also don’t see why it has to any time soon.

—But—

—No ‘buts', my darling bud. We’ve come all these years and years without sticking to rules and we’ve thrived. Why should we adhere to them now? Why not live in each pleasurable moment instead of forecasting the end? You’ll have more fun that way.

—Life is just getting too strange lately.

—All the more reason to take what pleasure you can.