The Wonder Bread Summer (7 page)

Roger banged the felt-tipped pointer on the word YES that was prominent in the upper right corner of the board. NO was on the other corner, MAYBE in the middle, the alphabet in the center, and then a few simple word combinations on the bottom:
I need
,
I would like
,
Please
,
Thank you
,
Help.

Bud ordered two pitchers of beer for the table. When the waiter brought out the bumpy orangey glasses, Bud poured a beer for each of them and raised his glass for a toast.

“To old friends and new,” he said. “And to this foxy little lady!” He leaned over and kissed Kathy on the mouth, his fat lips completely concealing her face below her nose. Kathy had her hands on his shoulders, as if to push him away, yet she stayed with the kiss. Allie was impressed. Kathy had never been demonstrative. She would have sighed or rolled her eyes had Allie kissed someone like that in public.

“Okay,” Kathy said, when she pulled away from the kiss. She straightened her already straight hair.

“You need to help him drink,” Bud said abruptly, pointing at Allie with his cup.

“Oh!” Allie laughed, picked up Roger’s beer, and put it to his mouth. Roger chugged, his mustache dipping into the cup, then rocked his head back in what seemed like glee. Allie wondered if she should wipe the beer foam off his mustache. She lifted her napkin once, hovered it for a moment, then put it back down without touching it to Roger’s face.

Bud and Kathy turned to each other and talked with their faces only inches apart. At first, Kathy was wearing her stern mother face, as if she was scolding Bud. Then she seemed to relax. Allie wondered if love was one of those things, like drugs, that made you behave in ways you wouldn’t normally. She decided to make the best of the situation and turned to Roger.

“So,” Allie said. “How do you know Bud?”

Roger spent a good twenty minutes tapping out that he’d just met Bud. Bud was defending him in a case that was a matter of mixed information and not any wrongdoing on his, Roger’s, part.

“What do the cops think you did?” Allie asked. She fed Roger another sip of beer before he could answer. The waiter returned for their order.

“I’m going to order for you, Roger,” Bud said. “Enchilada platter all right?”

Allie jerked the beer back so Roger could slam down on the YES or NO. He chose YES.

“Me, too,” Allie said, and she turned back to Roger, whom she was finding far more interesting than lovey-dovey Bud and spoony Kathy. “I’m dying to know,” Allie said, as she fed Roger more beer, “what were you accused of doing that you needed a lawyer?”

Allie pulled the beer back and Roger tapped down on the letter
I
. Then the letter
M
.

“I’m—” Allie started. Roger emitted a howly yowl and dropped his head from side to side. Then he tapped down on NO.

“Not you.” Allie sipped some beer. She liked beer but it made her so full she always felt the need to unbutton her pants when she drank it, which before tonight had been only a few times with Marc.

Roger plopped down on the NO again.

“Okay,” Allie said. “Let’s start over.”

Roger tapped on the letter
I
, then pulled himself up and swayed from side to side.

“I,”
Allie said. “Just
I
, right?” Roger squalled like a kazoo and Allie laughed. She liked this. It was like doing the word jumble in the paper, or the crossword puzzle.

By the time the enchiladas had arrived, Roger had tapped out that he made movies for a living.

“Right! You’re a producer!” Allie said, and Roger tapped YES, YES, YES.

Allie fed Roger a bite of his enchilada before each of her own bites. She forked it up just the way she liked it, with a bit of rice and lots of the sauce smeared in. Every now and then Roger’s head would jerk just as she was reaching his mouth, and enchilada sauce would smear across his mustache or on his chin. Allie wiped him up, the red enchilada sauce staining his face and facial hair, and carried on.

Eventually, Kathy and Bud made an effort to include Allie and Roger in their conversation. Allie was sorry about this, as whenever Bud spoke he made sure not to ask any questions or leave any open-ended ideas that might inspire Roger to try to tap out an answer. The one time he did put forth a question, he caught himself immediately and said, “Well of course you think
The Godfather
is the best movie made in the past ten years—or I guess I should say eleven years since it came out in ’72, right, Roger? Yes, that’s definitely right, it was ’72.”

“So, Roger was telling me about his case,” Allie said, as the waiter was clearing their plates. Two more pitchers of beer had arrived moments earlier. Allie had that swimmy feeling in her head that came when she drank too much. Her eyes felt like they’d been weighted with tiny silver beads. She imagined using toothpicks to prop her eyelids open, like Bugs Bunny or the Road Runner.

“It’s open and shut!” Bud said. He was shouting slightly. Allie wondered if he were drunk, too.

“What’s the case?” Allie asked. She felt her tongue slipping up on the letter
S
. Normally she’d stop drinking at this point, or even far before this point, but this day had wound her nerves so tightly she needed the unraveling brought on by alcohol.

Roger squealed and rocked back against his chair. The wheels slipped a little and Allie reached out, grabbed the board, and pulled Roger forward.

“Open and shut! Open and shut!” Bud slammed a lazy fist on the table. His beer splashed onto his wrist. He lifted his arm and licked the beer off.
Okay,
Allie thought,
definitely drunk.
Kathy looked as sober as she had when Allie had picked her up.

“Yeah, Bud said it was all a mix-up.” Kathy spoke as if she were intimate with the case. “And that Roger is no more a criminal than you or me. Or maybe just me.” Kathy looked at Allie and gave a little laugh.

“What?” Allie said. She could feel beer in her ears. It was making the noise in the room wobbly.

“I think you’ve done a little more criminal activity than I have.” Kathy squeaked out a tense laugh.

Allie wasn’t sure if she were hearing correctly. Did Kathy think Allie was a criminal because she had smoked pot twice? Or was it because she had done the cocaine? Allie hadn’t even told her about the bag of stolen coke in the car, but certainly she couldn’t confess to that now.

“I have?” Allie asked.

“Let’s just say you’ve changed a lot since high school,” Kathy said, and she pushed her mouth into the closed-lip smile.

“You’re committing a crime tonight!” Allie wished her words weren’t so mushed together. “You’re not twenty-one and you’re drinking!”

“We didn’t get carded,” Kathy said.

“You’re still committing a crime,” Allie said.

“I’m just saying I’ve never deviated as far as you have,” Kathy said, and Allie knew then that the drift she was feeling from Kathy might be permanent.

“What about Roger? Are you okay with what he did?” Allie turned to him. Roger’s head had dropped to one side and his eyes were shut. Was he actually sleeping?

“Roger is not a criminal in the slightest!” Bud said with a spray of enthusiasm. “The girl looks thirty. I saw for myself.” He laughed. “She’s got stretch marks and everything hanging down.” Bud held his palms below his ribcage and lifted them up and down as if he were weighing something.

“Who?” Allie asked. “What are you talking about?”

“Roger’s case! The girl! It was all low and hanging!” Bud shut his eyes as he laughed.

“Hanging boobs?” Allie felt as though popcorn was exploding in her head. She wanted to clear out her brain, eliminate this frustrating confusion.

“Of course he’s not talking about boobs!” Kathy glared at Allie. Allie tried to roll her eyes.

“Yeah, I am,” Bud said to Kathy, and he refilled everyone’s beer, even sleeping Roger’s. How many was that now? Allie had lost count long ago.

“Wait, so what about the girl’s boobs?” Allie picked up her glass and sipped. She really wanted to stop but it felt like she was defying Kathy if she drank more.

“She had these sad, droopy-eyed boobs,” Bud said. “I mean, there is no one who would ever think that she was only seventeen. Especially since she had an Alaska driver’s license that said she was twenty-four. And it’s not like Roger had ever gotten a girl from Alaska in one of his movies before! How the hell was he supposed to know what a real Alaska license looks like?”

“Oh, did she need parental permission to be in his movie?” Kathy asked. “Or, like a mother on set, right? I would love to put my kids in movies! I mean, it would be so interesting to be on the set and see how everything works, but not to have to be in front of the camera and worry about having movie-star looks, you know what I mean?” She stared at Bud, then Allie. Allie figured Kathy wanted them to shout out that she
did
have movie-star looks, but she kept her mouth closed. She didn’t think Kathy deserved her support after insinuating that Allie was a criminal.

“I don’t think you want your kids in one of Roger’s movies!” Bud laughed again and pulled Kathy into his shoulder as if he were going to give her a head noogie. He didn’t give the noogie but he did kiss her on the forehead. Roger woke up. He lifted his pointer in the air like a walrus lifting his nose, and trumpeted. Allie lifted her chin and trumpet-squealed with him.

Kathy and Bud stared at Allie as if she’d just insulted Roger. “Will you
please
stop that,” Kathy said. Roger trumpeted more and more, panting with a smile between his efforts.

“Fine,” Allie said, and then she turned to Bud. “Why wouldn’t you want your kid in Roger’s movies? I love Roger’s movies! Roger makes the best movies in the whole wide American world!” After trumpeting with Roger, feeding him his dinner and beer, and wiping up his mustache numerous times, Allie was feeling a protective affection for him.

“You’ve seen Roger’s movies?” Bud was grinning so big Allie could see his fillings.

“Maybe!” Allie said. “Name one.”

“
The Summer of Naked Sin Parties
!
The Year of
Licking
Dangerously
!
Star Whores
!” Bud laughed, lifting his mug as if he were toasting each title.

“You’re kidding, right?” Kathy asked. She was wearing her nervous line-grin again.

“No, I’m not kidding!” Bud almost looked offended. “Roger makes porno movies.”

Allie burst out laughing. “Seriously?!”

Roger banged the pointer multiple times on YES, YES, YES, YES. Then he and Allie threw their heads back and trumpeted once together.

“That’s disgusting,” Kathy said. She was leaning away from Bud, her eyes darting around but never landing on Allie. Allie felt a drunken, shameful joy in seeing Kathy’s straight and narrow ideals challenged by the upstanding lawyer boyfriend who they all now knew was defending a porno movie producer in a child porn case. Surely this was worse than smoking pot twice!

“It’s not disgusting!” Bud said. “Those girls make a lot of money! And Roger treats them well!” They all looked at Roger. He tapped on the YES again. Kathy turned her head toward the wall. The waiter approached with the dessert menu.

“I’ll order for all of us,” Bud said.

“I don’t want dessert.” Kathy’s mouth appeared to be made from cardboard.

“Well then three of those fried ice cream thing-a-ma-jigs,” Bud said to the waiter.

“I’ll share mine with you,” Allie said to Kathy, and she reached her hand out across the table as if to tell her that even if she was a bitch, Allie was forever grateful for the friendship they’d had and was still on her side. Kathy leaned away from the extended hand.

“And another pitcher of beer!” Bud said, and Roger squealed again.

A
llie was finding it difficult to wipe the fried tortilla with ice cream off Roger’s face. She wasn’t sure if he was shifting out of reach, or her hand was missing the target. It was like playing darts with a moving board.

“How do you drive?” Allie asked.

Roger tapped out D-R-I-V-.

“You have a driver?” Allie asked.

“Oh, Roger’s driver!” Bud said. He and Kathy had been tensely whispering to each other. “He said he’d be here with the van at eleven.”

“It’s eleven ten.” Kathy scowled at her gold watch.

“I love your watch,” Allie said.

“You’ve seen it before,” Kathy said. “I got it for graduation.”

“I know,” Allie said. She was just trying to warm things up between them. And she really did love that watch, although it forced her to recall how painful it had been to have dinner at the Sims Surf and Turf with Kathy’s parents after graduation while Allie’s father worked at the restaurant and her mother was out of the country. Since there had been no one to watch her get the diploma, Allie had skipped the ceremony, but Kathy had begged her to go to the dinner. After Kathy had opened the box with the watch, her mother handed Allie a wrapped present. It was a book about how to survive your first year of college. That weekend, Allie read the book straight through and then, later, found that college was nothing like the book anticipated it would be and none of the advice seemed pertinent. Certainly there were no chapters on what to do when you accidentally stole a bread bag full of cocaine.

“You want to roll Roger out while I get this lovely little lady home?” Bud stood and tried to pull out Kathy’s chair for her, but Kathy didn’t budge. Bud pulled and pulled, as though he was attempting to move a stone sculpture.

“I’ll drive your car,” Kathy said, and she finally stood. “You’re drunk.” She looked at Allie. “And you’re too drunk to drive, too.”

“I don’t even know if I can walk!” Allie said. “I’ll get a ride with Roger.” Allie wasn’t sure where she’d go, but going with Roger seemed like a good place to start.

Bud and Kathy walked ahead as Allie tried to push the wheelchair through the restaurant. There was greasy-looking carpet on the floor, which somehow made it hard for the wheels to move. Allie started and stopped several times. Then, just as she got some momentum going, she missed the door being held open by Bud and pushed Roger into the door frame. Roger squeal-laughed.