The Good Life

by Susan Kietzman

  As instructed, the boys walked around the side of the enormous brick house and down a snow-covered slope into the backyard. Through the floor-to-ceiling basement windows, Nate and Josh saw a crowd of people, drinking beer, smoking cigarettes, dancing, laughing, talking, and shouting to each other over the thumping beat of the music. “We’ve arrived,” said Nate, smiling as he opened the sliding glass door to an instant blast of party sounds. Josh followed Nate inside, where Steve, the host, approached them immediately. “Welcome, gentlemen,” he shouted. “Your beer is in the fridge—bottom shelf, Budweiser.”

  “Cool!” Nate shouted back. “Have you seen Jenny?”

  “Yeah,” yelled Steve, pointing to the other side of the room. “She’s over there, making out with Tom.”

  Nate twisted his smile. “Fuck you, man,” he said, moving in the direction of the white refrigerator at the end of the hallway. As promised, he and Josh found two six-packs of Bud among several six-packs of imported beer. Nate grabbed two from Josh’s, marked with a black Sharpie, and handed one to his friend.

  “I saw that,” said Josh, smiling.

  “Yeah, yeah,” said Nate. “You can get them from mine next time.”

  Beers in hand, Nate and Josh walked into the party room and stood, with their backs against the wall, surveying the scene. To their right was a sitting area, two couches and two chairs arranged in a crooked oval. On the couch, Tom really was making out with someone, but it wasn’t Jenny. It was Tiffany from their chemistry class, the girl who asked dumb questions and laughed at whatever the teacher said. Josh shook his head; Tom was such a smooth operator. He could talk almost anyone into a make-out session. Next to them, Andy had on his lap a girl Josh recognized but couldn’t name. He rubbed her back with one hand while he sipped a beer with the other. She held a Coors Lite in her hand but didn’t appear all that interested in it. In fact, after Andy had taken the last sip of his beer, she leaned into him and gave him a long drink from her can. Andy moved his hand down and began to caress her lower back. Sitting in the chairs and on the other couch was a group of girls from the field hockey team. They were gorgeous, all five of them, and dressed exactly alike: extra skinny jeans, little pastel tops with words written across the chest—Patti’s said BABY—and generous slices of flat, toned tummies visible between the top of their low-rise pants and the bottom of their short shirts. They all had long hair—three blondes and two brunettes—that they had twisted up at the back of their heads. They talked and laughed; Ashley smoked a cigarette. Soon, they were joined by their soccer-team boyfriends, who circled them like stagecoach settlers. Josh turned his attention to the dance floor and saw Jenny on the other side. “There’s Jenny,” he said to Nate. Nate wove through the dancers like a determined laboratory rat working a maze. When he reached Jenny, she smiled and kissed his lips, surely a better reward than a piece of stale cheddar. Nate immediately put his arm around her shoulder, a high school code of possession more than an act of passion, and said something into her ear. She laughed. Josh gulped the last of his beer before working his way back to the fridge for another. Trying to fit her wine coolers onto the overcrowded top shelf was Jenny’s friend, Allison Haynes. “Oh, hi, Josh,” she said, giving him a big smile. “Great party.”

  “Yeah,” said Josh, already thinking of ways he could extract himself from her company. If he didn’t come up with something quickly, he’d be listening to her babble all night.

  “How long have you been here?” she asked.

  “A while,” said Josh, looking beyond her into the fridge for his Budweiser.

  “Same here,” she said. “Jenny was wondering when you’d get here. She was thinking that maybe you’d changed your minds and were doing something else. But I told her, ‘Oh no, Jenny. They’ll be here.’ ” Josh glanced back at Allison. “She’s crazy about him, you know,” she said. “Then again, I guess I don’t have to tell you that—you have eyes, don’t you? Anyone who looks at the two of them can see how crazy they are about each other. How nice it would be to feel that way about someone, you know? And to have him feel that way about you, too.”

  Josh nodded his head. “I’m going to grab a beer,” he said. “Do you want one?”

  “Sure,” said Allison, setting her wine cooler down on the floor. “I don’t really like these anyway.”

  “They’re on the bottom shelf,” he said. “Let me just get by you.”

  Allison moved to Josh’s right, propping the door wide open with her body. When Josh bent down to get to his beer, she put her hand on his head. He looked up at her. “Sorry,” she said. “Lost my balance for a moment.” Josh looked back at the bottom shelf: no Budweiser. He checked the other shelves: Coors Lite, Heineken, Sierra Nevada, and St. Pauli Girl. Josh stood. “Did you drink it all?” asked Allison. Josh quickly surveyed the hallway and spotted several Budweiser-sporting girls. One of them had her hand wrapped around a can with NATE written on the side. He left Allison at the fridge and strode up to the gaggle. “Where did you get that beer?” he asked.

  “From the fridge,” one of them said. “Steve told us to help ourselves.”

  “Well, I think that’s my beer you’re drinking.”

  “Oh,” she said, looking at the can. “Actually, it’s Nate’s beer. But hey, sorry. There’s lots more in there, though.”

  “Yes,” said Josh. “And it belongs to other people.”

  She took another sip. “Well, hey, I don’t think anyone would, like, care.”

  “I do,” said Josh, turning to leave.

  “What happened?” asked Allison, scurrying after him.

  “My beer’s gone,” said Josh. “I’m going to find Steve.”

  “What?” asked Allison, having trouble keeping up with Josh, who moved through the crowd like a bouncer at a bar.

  “I’m going to find Steve,” Josh shouted back at her.

  “I’ll wait here,” she yelled.

  Working his way through the mass of warm bodies crowding the dark hallway adjacent to the party room, Josh lost his enthusiasm for being there. Parties were great when everything went his way, he thought, as he passed another girl drinking Budweiser: when no one touched his six-pack, when a cute girl flirted with him, when his mother didn’t wait up and sniff his breath like a bloodhound when he got home. But they could turn from sweet to sour in an instant. An ember of hope presented itself when Josh found Steve, Todd, and Nick, illuminated by a red lightbulb hanging over the hot water heater at the end of the hallway, smoking pot. “Dude!” said Steve when he saw Josh. “What’s up, man?”

  “Someone drank my beer,” said Josh.

  “Shit,” said Todd. “That is such a drag.”

  “Take someone else’s,” said Nick. “With all these chicks here, there’s got to be a huge supply of, like, Amstel Light, dude.”

  Steve and Todd cracked up. Josh looked at the three of them and waited for someone to ask him if he wanted a hit off the roach. Even though they all knew one other, it was considered poor form to ask for it. They all stared back at him. “You are so fucking tall,” said Todd, breaking into laughter. Steve and Nick joined him and Josh knew it was a lost cause. They were all too stoned to realize what pricks they were. Josh turned and walked through a doorway, finding himself on the far side of the dance floor, where Nate had been standing earlier. He was no longer there; he was slow dancing with Jenny. Josh found a piece of wall and, folding his arms across his chest, leaned against it to wait. As soon as the music stopped, Josh approached Nate, whose heavy eyes and rubbery lips broadcast his alcohol-induced relaxation. “I’m out of here,” he said.

  “Oh man, don’t go,” said Nate, hooking Jenny’s trim waist with one arm.

  “Jenny, can you get him home?” Josh asked.

  “Yeah,” said Jenny. “I need to drive Allison, too, but I can drop her off first.”

  The music started again and Nate groped for Jenny. “Are you drinking?” shouted Josh.

  “Nursing one,” Jenny shouted back, showing Josh her
beer can.

  “Cool,” said Josh. “Thanks.”

  Josh cut a path through the middle of the room. He grabbed his coat from the pile on top of the washer and dryer and walked out the sliding door, pulling it closed behind him. The relative quiet soothed him, as did the cold, clean air. He walked back along the crunchy trail of footprints to his car and started the engine. It was just ten o’clock; he had no interest in going home. He pulled out onto the road and drove; ten minutes later, he was in front of Nate’s house, Lauren’s house, and the lights were on. Josh drove up the driveway and parked in front of the garage. He got out of the car and walked along the shoveled path to the back of the house. Almost to the back door, he could see into the kitchen. Lauren, wearing pink gingham pajama pants and a Nike T-shirt, was sitting at the kitchen table eating a bowl of ice cream. Her hair was down, framing her face before spilling over her shoulders. At school, she wore it up in a tight ponytail Josh was always tempted to tug whenever he passed her in the hallways. He hesitated for only a moment before knocking on the thick glass panel separating them. Visibly startled, Lauren shifted her attention to the door. When she saw Josh, she got up, deactivated the alarm, and opened the door. “You scared me,” she said, one hand covering her heart.

  “I’m sorry,” said Josh. “I didn’t really think you’d be here. Didn’t you go to the movies?”

  “I was supposed to go to the movies,” said Lauren, shutting the door behind Josh. “My idiot friends got last-minute dates and blew me off.”

  “That sucks,” said Josh. “I would have gone with you.”

  “Oh yeah,” said Lauren, sitting back down at the table, “and not gone to the party.”

  “Yeah, well, the party sucked, too,” said Josh, pulling off his coat.

  “Where’s Nate?”

  “Still there,” said Josh. “Jenny’s going to give him a ride home.”

  “So, why didn’t you stay?” asked Lauren, putting a spoonful of ice cream into her mouth.

  “Because someone drank my beer and there was no way I could talk to Allison Haynes all night without some kind of buzz.”

  Lauren laughed and held up her bowl. “Do you want some?”

  “Sure,” said Josh. “Thanks.”

  Lauren got up and got the Brownie Batter ice cream her grandmother had bought out of the freezer. She scooped some into a bowl, put the carton away, and set the bowl in front of Josh. Josh looked at the ice cream, then looked back at Lauren. “Can I have a spoon?” he said, smiling. “I know where they are, but you’re already up.” As Lauren walked back across the room for a spoon, she considered her outfit. Being seen in pajamas wasn’t the best option, but it was far better than being seen in sweats or mismatched home-all-day-on-the-weekend clothes. She thought about pulling her hair back and wrapping it with the coated elastic around her wrist, but decided to leave it alone. Josh never saw her this way. “So,” said Josh, taking the spoon from Lauren when she returned and scooping up some ice cream, “why don’t you go on dates?”

  “Because nobody asks me?” said Lauren.

  “And why’s that?”

  Lauren shrugged, putting a small spoonful of ice cream into her mouth.

  “Because everyone knows you’re wild about Judd Acker?”

  Lauren’s face got hot and pink. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

  “It’s got everything to do with everything,” said Josh. “If boys know you’re interested in someone else, why in the world would they ask you out?”

  Lauren took another bite of ice cream. “Because I’m cute?”

  “You are very cute.”

  Lauren cocked her head at Josh, wondering if he was teasing her, but he looked very serious. Never breaking eye contact, Josh switched chairs and sat next to Lauren. He smiled at her, then lightly kissed her forehead. Lauren shut her eyes. He kissed the tip of her nose. Lauren breathed in deeply. He kissed her mouth, and then kissed it again. “Oh God,” said Lauren, barely above a whisper.

  “Oh God, what?” whispered back Josh, inches from her face.

  “That felt so good,” said Lauren, opening her eyes.

  “Well, good,” said Josh, “because there’s more where that came from.”

  Lauren laughed, which make Josh laugh. “Why did you kiss me?”

  “Because I wanted to,” said Josh. “Did you want me to?”

  “Oh yeah,” said Lauren. “I wanted you to. This is just so weird. I mean, you’re my brother’s best friend.”

  “I don’t talk about you with him.”

  “You want to keep it a secret?”

  “Keep what a secret?” asked Josh.

  “This,” said Lauren.

  “What?” asked Josh.

  “Don’t tease me.”

  Josh put his hand under Lauren’s chin. “When I ask you to go somewhere and you say yes—if you say yes—it will no longer be a secret.”

  “Are you going to ask me to go somewhere?”

  “Yes,” said Josh, pulling back. “Let’s go into the den and watch TV.”

  “I’m in my pajamas,” said Lauren.

  “Consider yourself lucky,” said Josh, standing. “I wish I were in mine.”

  They walked down the short hallway at the back of the house and into the Baronses’ den, a room Josh had been in many times, watching TV with Nate. Even though Nate had a television in his room and an extravagant entertainment center in his basement, Josh preferred the den’s comfortable leather furniture and close atmosphere. “Are you cold?” he asked.

  “A little,” said Lauren, arms crossed over her chest.

  Josh took a blanket out of the antique wood chest at the end of the couch and then sat down. “Sit with me,” he said to her. She sat down next to him and he covered both of them with the blanket. He reached for the remote on the glass coffee table, turned on the TV, and then wrapped his right arm around Lauren’s shoulders and drew her to him. He brushed her hair from her face with his fingers.

  “What do you want to watch?” asked Lauren.

  “Anything,” said Josh. “I’ll watch anything you want to watch.”

  An hour later, Josh heard a knocking sound. “What’s that?”

  “Someone’s at the door,” said Lauren, getting up.

  They walked through the hallway to the front door. Jenny’s face was framed in the beveled glass, her breath fogging the lower half. Lauren opened the door. “I need help,” said Jenny. “Nate’s had too much to drink.”

  Lauren looked past Jenny to the front driveway, where Nate, with his head at an uncomfortable-looking angle against the headrest, was slumped in the passenger seat of her car.

  “Can he walk?” asked Josh, moving through the doorway.

  “Not very well,” said Jenny, following him. “It took two guys to get him into the car.”

  Josh walked the short distance to the car and leaned down to talk to his friend. “Nate,” he said. “You’re home, buddy. Let’s go.”

  Nate opened his eyes and looked up. Unable to focus on Josh’s face, his eyes gave up and rolled back in their sockets. “I’m fucked up, man,” he said.

  “I know,” said Josh, bending down and putting his arm around Nate’s shoulder to ease him out of the seat.

  “Everything is fucking spinning,” said Nate.

  “Let’s get some air,” said Josh. “What you need is some fresh air.”

  “No,” said Nate. “What I need is a large pizza. Will you call for me?”

  “Yes,” said Josh. “We’ll get you inside, and then I’ll call.” Josh pulled him out of the car easily enough but, not expecting to completely support 160 pounds, lost control. Nate sank to the ground. “Maybe you’re the one who drank my beer,” said Josh, teasing his friend as he leaned over to help him up.

  “That’s possible,” said Nate. “I’m quite sure, at this point, that I had more than my share.”

  “Up we go, pal,” said Josh, lifting Nate from behind. “Let’s get you moving.” With Josh half-carrying him
, Nate made it to the front steps.

  “Maybe we can make him some coffee or something,” said Jenny.

  Josh pulled Nate through the front door and into the hallway, where Eileen, in a white terry-cloth bathrobe, was now standing. Nate looked at her and said, “Oh shit,” and then threw up.

  CHAPTER 11

  With a glass of pinot grigio in her hand, Ann lay back on the fluffed pillows of the king-sized bed, admiring her fresh manicure. A ninety-minute massage had taken care of the company jet ride ache in her lower back, and her legs still tingled and glistened from their waxing and conditioning treatment. Tomorrow, she would immerse herself in a rejuvenating body bath, guaranteed to restore youthful oils and nutrients, followed by a butt polish. Finally, some attention to her needs. Ann took another sip of wine and closed her eyes.

  Minutes later, Mike walked in the room from their bathroom, wearing a towel around his waist. That afternoon, he’d spent an hour with the tennis pro, an hour with a massage therapist, and $6,000 in the men’s shop. He smiled at his wife as he stood over the bed. “Don’t you look like a new man,” she said.

  “I feel better than I’ve felt in months.”

  “See?” said Ann. “It’s like pulling teeth to get you away from the office, but whenever I do, you’re grateful, aren’t you?”

  “I am indeed,” he said, removing his towel to dry his hair. “There’s just one more thing that could make me the most grateful man on the planet.”

  “Really?” asked Ann.

  Mike dropped his towel to the carpet, sat down, and stroked one of her exposed legs. “Your thighs are perfect.”

  “They ought to be,” said Ann, finishing the wine. “God knows I work them.”

  “I can work them, too, you know,” said Mike, climbing onto the bed.

  “Mmmm,” said Ann, setting her glass down on the bedside table. “I know you can.” He straddled his naked body over hers, and she wrapped her arms around his neck. “You’re the only man who turns me on,” she whispered.

  “Oh God,” said Mike, entering her.

  It’s so easy, thought Ann as Mike rocked back and forth. A few words, a touch here and there, a well-timed moan; it took ten minutes. Early in their marriage, Ann had tried to inject her own sense of romance into their relationship. She held his hand whenever they walked together. She wrapped his arm around her when they sat on the couch watching TV. She told him how much she loved fresh flowers—all in the hopes that he would realize it was his attention she sought. She wanted him to think about her, for thirty seconds even, think about what she wanted or what would please her. His attention, when he looked at and listened to her with intensity, was much more of a turn-on for Ann than his naked body. They approached their physical relationship from opposite ends: she wanted to feel loved before they had sex, and Mike thought sex was the proof.