by Dan Pope
“Right,” he said. “Got it.”
“Say it back to me.”
“Don’t bust my balls, Judy.”
“And as long as you’re in Wintonbury, drop off those presents at your dad’s house. Hanukkah’s over and you haven’t even given him a card yet,” she reminded him. “I know that doesn’t mean much to you, but for Leonard it’s a big deal.”
“Anything else?”
“Yeah. Don’t wreck the car.”
He inched along with the traffic, the windshield wipers slapping away the snow. After he passed through Hartford, the lanes opened up. He exited in Wintonbury and made his way along the unplowed roads to the food store.
As he pushed the shopping cart down the narrow aisles, he noted two distinct types: the wild-haired bohemians who worked there and the middle-aged yuppies who shopped there. Organic food was healthy, yes? So how to explain the unsightly appearance of the patrons—their sallow complexions, their thin and frizzled hair, their shuffling gaits? Many looked like recent victims of accident or disease, limping and wheezing, loading their carts with every sort of vitamin known to the natural world. In Benjamin’s opinion they would do better getting a steak and some frozen peas at the Stop & Shop down the street. How much granola and broccoli could one tolerate? Hitler was a vegetarian, he’d learned on the History Channel, and a compulsive farter.
He took his two bags from the cashier and was heading to the door when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned to see Audrey Martin standing before him. “Oh, hey, it’s you,” he said, startled, stumbling on his words. “Wow, what a surprise. I’ve been meaning—”
To his astonishment, she wrapped her arms around him. She held him tightly, her head pressed against his chest.
“Thank you,” she said. “Thank you so much.”
She held him like that, and after a few moments he returned the embrace. They stood in the front of the food store, people passing by them, holding each other.
He would never know what he did for her. Emily had gotten to the hospital in the nick of time, the doctor had told her. A matter of minutes, and it might have been too late. Audrey had replayed the events of that night in her mind countless times since it happened, and it all came down to the phone call. Benjamin’s call. That had made the difference. Otherwise she wouldn’t have been awake to hear her daughter’s faint cry for help. She had taken her Valium and gone to sleep, oblivious. Emily could have died in the next room, not thirty feet away, with Audrey snoring in her bed. But he had called and let the phone ring—and ring—until she woke. He’d called her in the middle of the night, seeking what? Companionship? Sex? Someone to say good night to? It didn’t matter why, only that he had done so. Nothing else mattered but for the enormity of this simple act. He had called at midnight and he had saved her daughter, and Audrey too.
“Thank you,” she said again, finally releasing him, and before he could respond, she hurried off.
* * *
THE SNOW was falling harder, the temperature dropping. It took Benjamin a half hour to travel the two miles across town.
On Apple Hill Road, the houses seemed lifeless at this unsettling time of day, too early to turn on the lights but not yet dark. Bamboo reindeer and plastic Santas stood on lawns, like ghostly sentinels, brushed white by the storm.
In his father’s driveway he found Franky DiLorenzo, wearing a furry-hooded parka, shoveling three inches of fresh snow off the asphalt.
“Let me help you with that,” said Benjamin, getting out of the car.
Franky looked up, breathing smoky-cold air, and shook his head. “I’m retired, remember. This gives me something to do.”
“You should at least let my father pay you.”
He waved away the notion. “I’m happy to lend a hand. Your dad would do the same for me.”
Benjamin nodded. His father would indeed. That was Leonard’s primary impulse, to help out his family and friends where he could. It came naturally to him, that sort of generosity. Benjamin knew that he’d failed to live up to his father’s ideal. He’d always taken care of himself above others.
“How’s it going back at your old place?” asked Franky DiLorenzo.
“Ups and downs, to tell you the truth,” said Benjamin. The night before, during an after-dinner argument, Judy had yelled, You’re acting like a selfish jerk, Benjamin. Haven’t you learned anything? When are you going to grow up? Yes, Benjamin figured, he would have to try harder, or at least pretend to. He would have to learn to please or placate Judy, if he didn’t want to get kicked out of his house again.
Franky leaned on the shovel and stared into the down-falling snow. “I almost got married once, but it didn’t work out. I figure it’s better for my blood pressure in the long run, to stay single.”
“You’re right about that. Without a doubt.”
Franky DiLorenzo leaned in close. “Did you hear about that Stacks kid?”
Benjamin frowned. “No.”
Franky grinned. “I don’t mean to pat myself on the back or anything. But I was right all along about that kid. Last week the cops nabbed him, red-handed. They got him breaking into Jimmie’s Pizza Palace at two in the morning wheeling a jukebox into the back alley. Seventeen years old. That’s the least of his crimes, I bet. You should follow up with the cops, see if they can nail him on your break-in too.”
Benjamin shook his head. “Doesn’t really seem worth the trouble.”
“I suppose not,” said Franky, although Benjamin could tell he didn’t agree with him.
Franky gestured toward the bottom of the street. “Did you see the sign outside the farmhouse?”
“What sign?”
“The place is back on the market.”
“Really? When did that happen?”
“Couple of days ago. I just got back from three weeks in Boca, so I’ve been out of the loop. But from what I’ve heard, it’s a bit of a mystery. The guy who lives in the house across from them saw an ambulance pull into their driveway late one night, a few weeks back. A fire engine too. But since that night, they’ve pretty much disappeared. No one’s home, as far as I can tell. Not a peep. And yesterday the posthole diggers showed up and planted that sign.”
“Was there a fire?”
“No. They always call out the fire department as first responders. I’m guessing a domestic.”
“A what?”
“Some kind of marital incident.” Franky DiLorenzo wiped his nose, his black eyes flashing. “You’re friends with her, right?”
Benjamin shrugged. “Not that close. I didn’t even know they’d moved out.”
He didn’t tell Franky about seeing her in the food store a half hour earlier, her long and warm embrace. He didn’t know what to make of that. He was surprised that she would even say hello to him, the way he’d dumped her without a word and ducked her phone calls until they stopped coming. But she had hugged him like a loved one, and thanked him with true sincerity. For what, he had no idea.
Franky pursed his lips. “I was hoping you could clear up the mystery.”
“No idea.”
“The house is listed at nearly the same price they paid for it,” said Franky. “That’s after all that money they put into renovations. I’m guessing they split up and are trying to get rid of the place, fast.”
“You could be right.” Benjamin pondered whether any of this might have something to do with him. Had the husband found out about their affair? Was that why Audrey had thanked him, for giving her a reason to get divorced? The way she’d described her husband, he was a man accustomed to getting his way. If he found out that Audrey was screwing around on him, he wouldn’t take the news well. Sure, that could lead to some yelling, a call to the cops—a “domestic.” Although Audrey hadn’t looked hurt or upset. She’d looked as lovely as ever, so much so that he still felt a faint longing from seeing her. So mayb
e something else entirely had caused their departure. Maybe it had nothing to do with him.
“Well,” said Franky DiLorenzo. “I guess it’s a mystery.”
“I guess so.”
Franky raised his shovel toward the darkening sky, a low cover of gray. “I better finish up while it’s still light.”
* * *
IN THE KITCHEN Benjamin shrugged out of his overcoat and checked the hallway thermostat: eighty-six degrees. He felt woozy, coming in from the cold to the hot, airless kitchen. Why did old people like to be so warm?
“Is anyone home?”
He went down the hallway and checked the den. Leonard was asleep on the couch, an afghan tucked around his legs. Next to him, Terri Funkhouser lay sprawled in the recliner chair, knitting needles crossed on her lap, her head back. His father wheezed, she snored, a sort of conversation going back and forth. The Weather Channel played on the TV with the sound off. The floorboard radiators hissed softly. Outside a tree branch scratched against the window like a cat.
The two seemed innocent in their slumber, as if they’d been married for fifty years. Benjamin felt a mixture of emotions—sadness and love, too jumbled to clarify. Terri Funkhouser was a godsend, he knew. For the last couple of weeks, ever since Leonard came home from the rehab center and she moved into the spare bedroom, she did everything for his father. Fed him, bathed him, cooked for him. Leonard seemed almost childlike in his need for her; he became anxious when she was not near, the same way he used to act with Myra, and Benjamin wondered whether his father, in his reduced state, truly understood the difference between the two women. Did he realize that she was not Myra, not his wife?
Benjamin backed out of the room, careful not to wake them. He left the gifts on his father’s desk and softly closed the door behind him.
Outside, he brushed the fresh coat of snow from his windshield. At the bottom of the street he stopped and rolled down the window to look at the farmhouse, shuttered and snowbound, the driveway and lawn untrodden. He noticed the Realtor’s signpost near the stone well, the FOR SALE board swaying soundlessly in the wind. The windows were dark, the chimney cold. It looked eerily familiar, like a vision from his own unlived future, and he shivered and closed the window against the storm and drove away.
Acknowledgments
TOWARD THE creation of this book I would like to recognize the assistance of the Connecticut Commission on Culture and Tourism, the Greater Hartford Arts Council, the Millay Colony for the Arts, my editor at Simon & Schuster, Millicent Bennett, who provided invaluable guidance through multiple drafts; and the following individuals, in alphabetical order: Samantha Atzeni, Luke Blanchard, Kim Brooks, Ethan Canin, Brian Clemments, Rand Richards Cooper, Kevin Dowd, Elizabeth Ferris, Laura Fish, Katie Rose Guest, Jennifer Haigh, Esmond Harmsworth, Deborah Hornblow, Sara Lewis, Andrea Lipsky-Karasz, Rinku Patel, Darryl and Dede and Doris Pope, Shelby Smith, Don Snyder, Sally Stamos, Brian Thiem, Jennifer Vanderbes, and finally, Lynn Wilcox.
Simon & Schuster Reading Group Guide
Housebreaking
By Dan Pope
Introduction
A PITCH-PERFECT, smartly told, and completely gripping drama, Housebreaking explores the dark realities of modern suburbia as two families are on the verge of unraveling. Presented with the opportunity for a fresh start or a second chance, they’ll have to overcome adultery, divorce lawyers, and drugs among other threats to find their way and come out on the other side. Through the intersecting narratives of these troubled, funny, and highly sympathetic characters we are presented with a picture of life today that can be both disturbing and reassuring and forced to think a little more carefully about the mistakes we make and the secrets we keep.
Discussion Questions
1. How would you interpret the significance of the title for this book? Why do you think the author chose that title?
2. The novel is broken into parts focusing on the Mandelbaum family and the Martin-Murray family. What did you think of the shifting perspectives and the structure of the story? How might the reading experience have been different with an omniscient narrator telling everyone’s story simultaneously?
3. Benjamin is back living in his childhood home when he comes across his high school crush, Audrey Martin. In a way, Benjamin’s separation from his wife puts him in a situation that may feel like he’s gone through a time warp, but also presents him with an unexpected second chance. Discuss this concept of a second chance as it applies to Benjamin’s story. How does it evolve and change for him? How is the idea of a second chance or fresh start relevant to other characters in the story?
4. Leonard reflects on his grief over losing Myra. For him, it seems as if moving on is impossible. His children can’t understand because, “For them, life was about looking ahead, about what would happen next.” At what point in life do you think you transition from looking ahead to looking back? Should you ever stop looking ahead?
5. Benjamin and Audrey’s lives took off in different directions after high school but then brought them both back onto the same street. How do you think Benjamin’s life has been affected by staying in and around Wintonbury? Do you live close to where you grew up, or would you want to? If not, have you been back? How has your perspective on your hometown changed as you’ve grown up?
6. Benjamin wonders, “Wasn’t lying to someone you loved sometimes the right thing to do? Who could bear to know the truth of what went on, day in, day out, in the other’s mind?” Do you agree? How important do you think total honesty is in a relationship?
7. Compare the grieving process for each of the Martin-Murray family members. Can you relate to any of their coping methods? How much do you think grief is at the root of each of their actions and behaviors?
8. Andrew “pondered Sampson’s proclivities for men and women. Odd, that lack of preference. Andrew could understand being gay a lot easier than being bi.” Discuss Andrew’s perspective here both in general and in light of his eventual “relationship” with Sampson. What do you think Andrew’s sexual orientation was?
9. Emily is coming down from a high as she looks into the mirror: “Her face stared back blankly from the dresser-top mirror. . . . Curious, this mask. How strange that people considered it Emily. She had been outside her body for four days.” Discuss the idea of one’s face being a mask. Have you ever felt that what you saw in the mirror was different from what other people were seeing?
10. Emily admits that “Later, she would look back and say that when she was seventeen, she tried to commit suicide but ended up killing only the parts of herself she no longer wanted.” Do you think Emily consciously tried to kill herself? Was it a cry for help? An accidental near-overdose?
11. Most of the characters are holding on to a secret at some point in the story—some secrets come out, some threaten to, others remain tucked away. What do you think the story suggests about how well we know our neighbors, our colleagues, and even our own families?
12. Discuss the image presented in Housebreaking of a modern family. How well do you think Wintonbury represents life in the suburbs today?
13. At the end of the book there is a sense that everything and nothing has changed. Discuss what may appear to be the same on the surface though perhaps irrevocably altered deeper down.
14. What do you think becomes of the Martin-Murray family after putting their house up for sale? What do you imagine happening for Audrey and Andrew?
15. Who, if anyone, do you think has a happy ending in Housebreaking?
Enhance Your Book Club
1. After hearing that Audrey Martin just moved in nearby, Benjamin digs out his high school yearbook to look at her senior photo and take a trip down memory lane. Do you have any of your high school yearbooks? If so, bring it in and share some of your high school photos, crushes, and memories with your book club.
2. When Emily is in the hospital, she has a near-dea
th experience and believes she sees her brother in heaven. Do you know anyone with stories of near-death experiences or glimpses of afterlife? Have you ever felt a presence of someone who passed? Share your stories and any ideas you may have about the possibility of an afterlife.
3. Were you surprised at how easy it was for Emily to access prescription pills? National studies show that a teen is more likely to have abused a prescription drug than an illegal street drug. To learn more about prescription drug abuse, visit www.drugfreeworld.org/drugfacts/prescription-drugs.html.
Author Q&A
What was your inspiration for Housebreaking?
A dog. She appeared by the back door of my parents’ house one evening over the holidays, howling. This happened about twenty years ago. I was home from graduate school. She was a malamute, a bit overweight, with heavy gray and white fur. She had somehow escaped from her home by breaking the link of her thirty-foot vinyl dog line, which was trailing behind her. Instinct—well, love—brought her to seek out my brother’s akita (the dog’s name was Saki). We let him outside to romp around with her for ten or twenty minutes, which ended with him making a half-hearted attempt at mounting her. She growled and hissed and they had to be separated. Then he came inside and happily went about his business, while the malamute stayed outside, sleeping on our front porch, apparently lovelorn. We let her into the house to warm up, but she immediately ate all the cat food and started on the dog bowl, which didn’t sit well with Saki the akita. So we had to put her out again. She stayed all night. The next morning, her owner appeared, a perfectly lovely woman with her son, who was in his teens. They lived two streets over. They’d been searching the neighborhood for their runaway. They gathered their dog and took her home.
A few days later, the malamute was back. The same interactions occurred: dog roughhousing, attempted humping, separation, reunification the next morning with rightful owner. This happened often—more than a handful of times, over a few years. The malamute had a talent for escape.
