The Story of Us (22 page)

“Jesus, you guys!” I said. I covered my eyes. “This is neither
the time nor the place.” I sounded like somebody’s mother. “Your father wants to see you.”

“I didn’t know what I was missing all these years!” Hailey said. Her cheeks were flushed. The boyfriend back home had obviously been forgotten in the thrill of the high score.

“Stick with me, baby,” Gavin said.

“We’re
eating
,” I said. My voice had turned prim. My mouth felt pinched together in some church-lady way. “You both need to head up to the house,
now
.”

“Okay, okay,” Hailey said. She stood, pulled a handful of shorts from her butt crack.

“I’m not all that hungry after astronaut pot roast and mashed potatoes,” Gavin said.

“I’m stuffed too. All those
chocolates
,” Hailey said. She made the word sound sensual. The top button of her shorts was unbuttoned. Maybe Gavin had done it, or maybe she had, needing more room after all those M&M’s and sour gummy worms and—wait, nacho cheese Doritos—partied in her stomach.

“Gavin, jeez,” I said. “This place is a mess!”

“We’re having fun. Isn’t that the idea? What are you so pissed about?” Gavin said.

“The idea is …” I didn’t know. Not this. Not the kind of disaster upon disaster that could lead to frantic cab rides to airports.

“Come on, Gavin,” Hailey said. She was outside already.

Gavin was rushing me along. “She’s never had chocolate, so she’s a little—”

“I love technology!” Hailey shouted.

“Never?”

“Carob,” Gavin said. He mimed sticking his finger down his throat in a gag. “She really pounded those M&M’s.”

“I’ve decided something!” Hailey said. Great. Terrific. “No more fucking
organic
. No more diets.
Die yet
, get it? They’re trying to kill us.”

We caught up to her. Maybe pro athletes should give up those pesky steroids, because by the look of it, M&M’s could work magic. Hailey was cruising, fast. She could probably lift a car with one finger. She leaped over a large rock. “Hey, I like a real woman,” Gavin said. “I don’t do bones.”

Well. Who knew he had preferences? Before that day the thing Gavin looked for most in a female was one that would say hi to him after he said hi.

“I
love
it!” she said, as sugar and fat and monosudiolgludo-somethings rose in her like a roller-coaster car up a rickety ramp.

I needed an aspirin. I left them at the party and headed upstairs to hunt through Mom’s purse for the bottle. I went into their room, found her bag on the bed. I rustled around in there, trying to hurry.

But, wait. Wait just a second. What was this? A glossy pamphlet folded in half. I opened it. It was wrong to snoop, but what did that matter when you actually
found
something? I sat down on the edge of the bed. I held that thing in my hands.

There was a picture of a beach, a grass-roofed umbrella, a
shadowy bikini-clad woman taking a solitary walk. My eyes stopped on the words.
Enjoy the blessed isolation … Escape to sunny …
Escape.

I knew it.

Daughters and ex-wives and arguments—bad signs. They could press and press you to the breaking point. A person might want … options. But you could have an invitation sitting there at your fingertips and not take it, right? The beach and the thought of escape and tropical drinks, of peace, it could all sit there with its finger crooked, beckoning, and it didn’t mean you’d follow. It didn’t mean there was enough reason already. Maybe you just wanted to look at the picture. Maybe you just wanted to know you
could
leave.

I shoved the pamphlet back into my mother’s purse and headed back downstairs, forgetting all about the aspirin. I hurried back down. Dan had wanted us all there for dinner, and it seemed crucial to cooperate as much as possible. Things needed to go
right.

In the hall I ran smack into him. Ash. He was just out of the shower too, same as Dan. His hair was wet. He took my arms.

“Well,” he said. “How’s that for timing.”

God, he smelled good.

“Coming to dinner?” I said. My voice was hoarse.

“Let’s try that again, the whole crashing-into-me thing,” he said.

“Later?” I said.

“Later,” he said. “Soon, later.”

Janssen, Janssen, Janssen, my heart said. But the voice sounded so far away.

“Now that we’re all here,” Dan said.

Dan’s black hair was shiny in the light of the lanterns, as black and glossy as a rainy street at night. His eyes were black too. Deep black and sincere. His face was serious. Everyone was gathered around on the back deck overlooking the sea. Gram wasn’t paying attention. She had her eyes locked on Grandpa and George. Hailey wasn’t paying attention either. I saw her run her pinkie along Gavin’s thigh. He started to cough; he pounded his chest with one fist.

“I just wanted to take a moment,” Dan said. “We’ve all been here, but scattered different places. I can’t wait until
everyone’s
together—my parents, Daisy’s sister … But now. Tonight. Great food, great music, family, friends … And my beautiful bride.” He held his hand out to her, my mother. And she went to him. Pamphlet or no pamphlet, she took his finger tips and beamed.

He kissed her cheek. It was … It was so damn sweet, and I felt choked up. You could see how much he loved her, and there she was, my mother, and she’d been through so much shit, she and Ben and me, all of us, and now here we were, and the night was beautiful. I could see Ted take Rebecca’s hand. Ash stood by the barbecue, smiling. Ben was next to me, with Jupiter tucked under one arm. She loved being up high, and
Ben was watching out for her, making sure she wasn’t overlooked down there in the crowd, as she watched everything with her shiny eyes. And Jane swayed back and forth with Baby Boo on one hip, as John looked on, loving them both. I could hear Gram sniff. She was feeling it too—family and love and all the crazy stuff you go through together in a life. But the point was, you went through it together, and you all stood there as witnesses and allies, and you gave your love over. During the bad times, but in the moments that were this good, too.

“I just want to say …” Dan’s voice cracked. “I am a blessed man.”

Ben’s eyes were wet.

“Jesus,” Grandpa said. He sniffed, and wiped his eyes with a handkerchief.

My mother, our mother, set her head on Dan’s shoulder. I felt my heart squeeze. Gold lantern lights danced in her hair. Love felt like magic.

And then it happened. The metallic, urgent song of a phone. It stopped. Started again. Amy fished into her pocket, turned her back, and plugged her other ear with one finger. “’Lo?”

She listened. Dan started to speak again, but Amy stopped him. She held the phone out to him. “It’s for you,” she said.

“No,” Dan said.

“Dad!
Please …
”

His teeth were clenched. “I’ll call back.”

Amy spoke into her phone and shut it, but the moment was
broken. Ted shouted a hearty “Let’s eat!” and slapped Ash’s back, as my mother’s face turned stormy.

“What now?” I said to Ben.

“Amy’s all upset because people are
doing drugs all around her
,” Ben said.

“What?” I said.

“Rebecca,” he said. “I heard Mom and Dan talking. Amy smelled pot smoke, told her mother
everyone’s doing drugs
.”

“Oh, my God,” I said.

“It’s a great big drug orgy,” Ben said.

“Where?” Hailey said. She and Gavin and Oscar appeared next to us.

“How ’bout just an orgy for two,” Gavin said, and pinched Hailey’s butt. He was really pissing me off.

“Then it wouldn’t be an orgy, idiot,” Oscar said. Oscar had always been a master at pointing out the obvious.

I watched Ash help his Dad with the salmon, moving it to big platters which they set on the table. They joked around together, enjoying each other’s company. Gram and Aunt Bailey made a beeline for a dish of grilled vegetables. The music went back up again, but somehow Rebecca still heard the doorbell. She disappeared inside, skirts swaying, bracelets clinking, and came back out again.

“Look who’s here!” she chimed.

A little old lady stood next to her. The ancient woman was barely five feet tall, as if the years had shrunk her. She wore purple “slacks” (wasn’t that what old people called them?), and
a purple flowered blouse. Her hair was a neat silver bubble. Rebecca held her elbow.

“Mom!” Dan said. He rushed over. He hugged her, but gently. It looked like she could fall over with rough handling. “Where’s Dad? I thought you two were coming tomorrow.”

“Your father,” she said. Her voice was the sound of eggshells cracking.

“What?” Dan said. “Hey, Sis! Daisy! Come on over!” he called.

Oscar and Ben and Gavin and Hailey headed toward the food table, but I was still standing there, and so I heard everything.

“Son, I have some news,” Mrs. Jax said.

Dear Janssen—

Wait—another one for your list. “Dog eat dog.” You’re right, though—the expressions are mostly negative. Yeah, “She’s a dog.” I don’t get it. Here’s Bella and Gracie and Buddy and Lucy doing their own innocent thing, and we slam them. What’s “dog eat dog” all about anyway? Dogs in a dog park are pretty reasonable with each other, if you ask me. They play nice, and when someone doesn’t, they basically tell them to knock it off, and all is well. Unlike us.
Think mall parking lots during the holidays, for one example.

And what about people who say “It’s just a dog” when a pet dies? They would never say “It was just your friend.” Or “It was just a member of your family.” But
of course
a dog is your friend and family member. All pets are. You share things. Over the years, you love each other and get mad and laugh and take care of each other and have memories. There they are, in your Christmas pictures.

Maybe I do get it. It makes some people a little nervous to have so much in common with a creature that licks himself, you know? We need to feel superior, and fast. So we say, “Hey, they eat grass and throw it up. We don’t!” We say, “How smart can they be? They only understand a few words!” Gotta be at the top of the food chain, fine. And, yeah, it’s true. They can’t seem to hear music or recognize themselves in a mirror, and they try to bury a bone in the floor, pushing against the carpet with their nose, when it’s obvious that the bone is right there. But we
drink
too much and throw up! And how much of
their
language do
we
understand?
We
can’t see ourselves very clearly, in
a mirror or in general! We can’t seem to hear
other people
! We pretend not to see things that are clear as day all the time!

You’re not supposed to say that you can tell what an animal
feels
either. This really gets people going. He’s not feeling love! He’s just watching his food source! He’s not afraid of that stranger,
you’re
afraid of that stranger! Whatever. When you have a dog—well, you know what you experience. You do.

So:

A Few People Feelings Dogs Definitely Show, Like It or Not (And There Are Plenty More, Too)

       1. Fear: Turn on a vacuum, right? Also, there was that time that Jupiter became very afraid of a large potted houseplant Mom got at Fred Meyer. She walked wide circles around it and eyed it suspiciously, and why wouldn’t she? If you were that small and something that big appeared in the living room out of nowhere, you’d be nervous too. Fear comes along with a beating heart.

       2. Hope: If the car door is open, even
for a minute, Jupiter hops up into the passenger seat and waits. Hope is what you’ve got when you can’t drive yourself.

       3. Anticipation: Deer, in our very own yard some nights. Oh, the thrill and anxiety. And the next morning? She’d barely have her eyes open before running over to the window where we saw them last. Christmas morning, dog version.

       4. Love: A million examples, but how about one? A chin, resting on your leg. The eyes that say,
You’re there, I’m here, and we’re both better for it.

       5. Willfulness: A million examples, again. Jupiter, barging into the bathroom. Butting her nose against any door that shuts her out with a distinct I-have-a-right-to-be-here shove. Standing by the treat jar and barking. Standing by her bowl and barking. Standing by the door and barking. Barking her head off on purpose when I’m on the phone.