Bernie. I can fly.” Beau poured Beth a beer into a glass, no doubt fighting off the image of having sex with the both of us at the same time. What would it be called? The Archer Deluxe?
Lou came up from the salon stripping off his hair-dye gloves like Gypsy Rose Lee. He’d recently booked a clutch of teenaged boys from town who all wanted bleached crew cuts.
“Hello, my love. How was the flight?”
“Fast. Nice. Nothing,” Beth said, standing up for one of Lou’s hugs.
“You are thin, Beth Ann. I feel like I’m clutching a bouquet of lollipops.”
“Good. That is the goal, Lou.”
We sat around the table for a few minutes focusing intently on the boys, while Beau wiped down the granite counter top, took out the cutting board, and tenderly laid out chicken breasts he’d marinated in mustard and honey.
“Peachy, after the barbecue, let’s go to the tavern for nightcaps. Beau can babysit,” Beth said, tunneling through Sam’s carefully placed stones to grab my hand. “I’ve got some more news about Marcus.”
I felt my heart leap at the sound of his name.
“I thought that was all over, Beth,” I whispered.
“Who’s Marcus?” Beau asked. I couldn’t tell if he sounded blandly curious or mildly jealous or both.
“Some guy who ripped out my heart.”
“Wow, was there a reward for finding it?”
“Score one for Beau,” Beth said.
Beau turned around holding a sauce brush. It was the first time I noticed he’d been wearing an apron.
“Hey, why is it, Beth, when a dad watches his kids, it’s called babysitting? And when Peachy does it, it’s called parenting?”
“Because, Beau, watching TV with your kids is not parenting. It’s sitting.”
“Oh, like you would know what parenting is? When’s the last time you volunteered to help out around here? You treat this place like it’s a hotel.”
Beth’s eyes widened and she looked at me as though to say,
Do something about your husband
. I too was a little shocked at the tension between them.
“Beau, just cook, okay?” I said.
Sam came over to Beth’s side to straighten up his stones. She put a hand on his head and messed his hair a little, mouthing to me, “How is he?”
I searched for neutral words. “We don’t know yet.”
“What don’t you know?” Jake asked, helping his brother with the stones.
“Anything. We don’t know anything,” I said, looking at Beth, trying to read the weather on her face.
“Well,
I
know something,” she said, a hint of accusation in her voice.
“What do you know?” Sam asked, thinking we were talking in code about him or his condition, something he hated.
“Nothing. It’s about your mother, Sam.”
“What about Peachy?” Beau asked, keeping his back to us. I kicked Beth under the table.
“Nothing, I’m just teasing, Beau,” Beth said. “As if Peachy’s got secrets.”
“Yeah, as if
I
would have secrets,” I said, trying to deflate suspicion by acting exaggeratedly suspicious. She kept her eyes on me. The only person in the room who could tell we had been up to something was Lou.
“Okay, let’s change the subject. Peachy, let’s get drunk tonight, shall we?” Beth said, draining her beer and slamming the glass on the table.
“No driving then,” Lou said. “I’ll happily drop you off and pick you up at Earl’s. Okay, ladies?”
Lou gave me his look that said,
I am not judging Beth’s drinking, but I have been noting its subtle, though unmistakable, escalation, as are you, Peachy. So enjoy yourself tonight, but not that much
.
“Thanks, Dad, but I’m taking it easy tonight,” I said, pointing to my beer.
The gravel driveway announced more arrivals.
“Uh-oh, Lucy and Leo are here. Be nice, they’re having ‘the troubles,’” Beau said, holding the plattered breasts. Beau’s older sister Lucy fought with her husband so often that they indeed made the institution of marriage sound like Ireland, a once lush paradise ruined by messy children, too much
Lou came up from the salon stripping off his hair-dye gloves like Gypsy Rose Lee. He’d recently booked a clutch of teenaged boys from town who all wanted bleached crew cuts.
“Hello, my love. How was the flight?”
“Fast. Nice. Nothing,” Beth said, standing up for one of Lou’s hugs.
“You are thin, Beth Ann. I feel like I’m clutching a bouquet of lollipops.”
“Good. That is the goal, Lou.”
We sat around the table for a few minutes focusing intently on the boys, while Beau wiped down the granite counter top, took out the cutting board, and tenderly laid out chicken breasts he’d marinated in mustard and honey.
“Peachy, after the barbecue, let’s go to the tavern for nightcaps. Beau can babysit,” Beth said, tunneling through Sam’s carefully placed stones to grab my hand. “I’ve got some more news about Marcus.”
I felt my heart leap at the sound of his name.
“I thought that was all over, Beth,” I whispered.
“Who’s Marcus?” Beau asked. I couldn’t tell if he sounded blandly curious or mildly jealous or both.
“Some guy who ripped out my heart.”
“Wow, was there a reward for finding it?”
“Score one for Beau,” Beth said.
Beau turned around holding a sauce brush. It was the first time I noticed he’d been wearing an apron.
“Hey, why is it, Beth, when a dad watches his kids, it’s called babysitting? And when Peachy does it, it’s called parenting?”
“Because, Beau, watching TV with your kids is not parenting. It’s sitting.”
“Oh, like you would know what parenting is? When’s the last time you volunteered to help out around here? You treat this place like it’s a hotel.”
Beth’s eyes widened and she looked at me as though to say,
Do something about your husband
. I too was a little shocked at the tension between them.
“Beau, just cook, okay?” I said.
Sam came over to Beth’s side to straighten up his stones. She put a hand on his head and messed his hair a little, mouthing to me, “How is he?”
I searched for neutral words. “We don’t know yet.”
“What don’t you know?” Jake asked, helping his brother with the stones.
“Anything. We don’t know anything,” I said, looking at Beth, trying to read the weather on her face.
“Well,
I
know something,” she said, a hint of accusation in her voice.
“What do you know?” Sam asked, thinking we were talking in code about him or his condition, something he hated.
“Nothing. It’s about your mother, Sam.”
“What about Peachy?” Beau asked, keeping his back to us. I kicked Beth under the table.
“Nothing, I’m just teasing, Beau,” Beth said. “As if Peachy’s got secrets.”
“Yeah, as if
I
would have secrets,” I said, trying to deflate suspicion by acting exaggeratedly suspicious. She kept her eyes on me. The only person in the room who could tell we had been up to something was Lou.
“Okay, let’s change the subject. Peachy, let’s get drunk tonight, shall we?” Beth said, draining her beer and slamming the glass on the table.
“No driving then,” Lou said. “I’ll happily drop you off and pick you up at Earl’s. Okay, ladies?”
Lou gave me his look that said,
I am not judging Beth’s drinking, but I have been noting its subtle, though unmistakable, escalation, as are you, Peachy. So enjoy yourself tonight, but not that much
.
“Thanks, Dad, but I’m taking it easy tonight,” I said, pointing to my beer.
The gravel driveway announced more arrivals.
“Uh-oh, Lucy and Leo are here. Be nice, they’re having ‘the troubles,’” Beau said, holding the plattered breasts. Beau’s older sister Lucy fought with her husband so often that they indeed made the institution of marriage sound like Ireland, a once lush paradise ruined by messy children, too much
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