Middle Men by Jim Gavin Page B

lived north of Wilshire in a house with a bright Mediterranean facade. Fountains, pillars, cypress trees. The Teague boys, six and eight, were handsome and earnest, just like their mother, Andrea, who wasn’t much older than Karen. They had become friendly, and Karen often stayed at their house for dinner. As Karen gave the boys their lessons, Andrea showed me around the house and pointed out the kitchen window to the pool, a peferct square of turquoise surrounded by sharp green hedges. It was a picture of the future I wanted. I would live with Karen and we would have a pool.
    â€œYou and Karen can come swimming anytime you want,” she said.
    â€œThanks,” I said, but I knew I didn’t want to swim in their pool.
    â€œShe’s been through so much,” said Mrs. Teague, like she was talking about a refugee. For a moment I hated this woman,her dramatic, condescending tone. But then, opening a bottle of wine, she said, “She’s told me all about you, Brian.”
    â€œReally?”
    â€œShe says you’re good to her.”
    This felt like a letdown, but later, as we sat in traffic on the 10, Karen absently took my hand. The sky had turned pink behind the Hollywood Hills.
    â€œYou’re the only thing I’m good at,” I said.
    I waited for her to laugh, but instead she curled her fingers into mine.
    A few weeks later we drove out to my parents’ house in Pomona. My mom had sounded worried when I told her how old Karen was, but not long after we arrived, I became totally redundant to the proceedings. Karen immediately started telling my mom about her mom, dead now for six years. She talked about her mom’s fight against cancer in the same tone she had told me about the sexual exploits of her youth. Spilling it all out and waiting for my mom to flinch in disgust. My mom, who had lost her brother and several close friends to cancer, never flinched. They talked and talked, and I just sat there, listening as they eventually moved on from the topic of death to the topic of me. They formed an instant consensus about my shortcomings as a human being. My mom pointed to my baggy shorts and T-shirt.
    â€œHe walks around like he’s shipwrecked,” she said.
    â€œHe’s a bigger slob than me,” Karen said, looking thrilled. It was an ambush.
    My dad, who had been outside most of the day working the grill, looked at me with sympathy. But I didn’t want it. I had never felt happier. I imagined Karen and my mom running errands together, buying dishes at Target. My mom eventually did this, just a few weeks ago, with another girl, my fiancée.
    That night we rented a movie. Karen sat next to my mom on the love seat. My dad sat in his recliner and I had the couch to myself. Halfway through, Karen had fallen asleep with her head on my mom’s shoulder. The next day I called my mom and asked if she could loan me some money for us to put a deposit on a place, but she refused.
    â€œShe’s a sweet person,” she said. “But you’re too young to be involved with her.”
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    In late August, through the good offices of the mod freak whom Nathan had chatted up a couple months earlier, the Map got a chance to open for Stereolab at the Troubador. I told Karen about it, reluctantly, and she was excited to go. She wanted to meet my friends. When I picked her up, she was wearing a tight black dress. I hardly recognized her. Driving down Santa Monica Boulevard, I started to get knots in my stomach. She had already copped to some youthful starfucking and now, grimly and pathetically, I anticipated her reaction to Nathan. Though not a star, he qualified as some form of cosmic debris. I took a few wrong turns, my goal to make us late for the Map’s set.
    â€œYou just went in a circle.”
    â€œI’m a little lost.”
    â€œWhat’s wrong with you tonight?”
    â€œNothing.”
    â€œIt might be nice if