Rock, Paper, Scissors

by Naja Marie Aidt

  “One time I visited her we did something fun,” Kristin says. “God, it was actually really hysterical. Let’s have a glass of wine!” She goes off and returns with glasses and a bottle of Bordeaux. She pours. Jenny takes a big swig, tossing her head back. She smiles. The role of victim, Thomas thinks bitterly, it’s a rehearsed grimace, a bad habit of hers. Jenny sniffles. Kristin leans back elegantly in her chair, glass in hand: “We’d dressed up in men’s clothes and gone to a huge party, the opening of some exhibition. She used to hang out in artist circles, and I’m sure you’ve already figured out that I was the one who most looked like a man. By the time we arrived we were pretty drunk, and the whole time I had to keep forcing Agnes’s hair back up under her bowler.” Kristin sniffs her drink.

  “You were wearing hats?” Jenny says.

  “Of course we were wearing hats. Well, but anyway, we were very giddy and pretty self-absorbed. But then there’s this very attractive woman who was basically blitzed. She’d probably snorted some coke too—pretty much everyone at that party did—and it seemed like she really believed we were men. She buzzed around us, and then she began hitting on Agnes, in a drunk and sweetish way. We tell her that we’re brothers, and I grab champagne for the three of us, and this girl, have I mentioned that she’s super hot?” Kristin drinks, laughs. “At some point people begin to dance, and we ask the girl to dance. We have a really great time pretending to dance just like men do, and the girl, she’s just crazy about these two gallant brothers she’s run into. Then it happens: She wraps her arms around your mother’s neck and kisses her.”

  Jenny: “Kisses her how?” And then, shocked: “With her tongue?”

  Kristin: “Oh, yes. And there’s nothing left to do but to continue the joke, so your mother gives me a look of desperation, but she needs to kiss her back. Meanwhile I’m howling with laughter inside. It was just too funny. Your mother’s arms are rigid with fear. But what’s worse, as the night wears on the girl wants to come home with us. Naturally, I’m really interested in her, so your mother and I squabble in the men’s room. She doesn’t think it’s a good idea at all, but I always won those kinds of arguments, even though I was the youngest. And I won in this situation, too. We managed to get the girl maneuvered to a cab.”

  Thomas and Jenny hang on Kristin’s every word, riveted. From the kitchen Helena calls out, “Are you telling the Chaplin and Chaplin story?”

  Smiling, Kristin nods.

  “Chaplin and Chaplin?” Thomas says.

  “Because of the hats,” Kristin says. “Helena thinks we must have looked like two Charlie Chaplins.”

  “What happened next?” Jenny’s mouth is set grimly now.

  “Well, we take the girl home. I’ll spare you all the intimate details. But after a lot of fuss, I’m the one who tries to seduce her. We’re all lying on Agnes’s mattress. But in the dark the girl can’t tell the difference between us, so she’s willing enough at first. By this point, your mother has long since fallen asleep in her fancy suit.”

  “And she realizes that you’re not Mom?” Jenny asks.

  “You can bet your bottom dollar on that. But most importantly she realizes I’m not a man! So she shoots out of bed like a rocket and gets dressed.”

  “Was she ticked off?”

  “Oh, yeah. But she was so drunk that it wasn’t an especially convincing anger. And even though I was disappointed, it was just so funny that I had to wake your mother. For the rest of the night, we sat there bawling with laughter. Ha! Agnes definitely had a sense of humor when she felt like it. I can still see it clearly. The girl’s name was Denise. We were constantly making Denise jokes after that.” Kristin shakes her head, laughing, and drains her glass.

  Thomas doesn’t know what to say. Jenny’s folded her arms on the table and dropped her head onto them. She sighs. “Well!” Kristin says, standing. “Is it time to set the table, Helena?” They call the twins downstairs, and they begin to set out the plates and silverware. Luke places a large bowl of salad in the center of the table. “Where can I smoke?” Thomas asks.

  “It’s okay if you smoke in the sunroom,” Helena says.

  “Come,” Thomas says to Jenny, pulling her along, first through the kitchen then through the enormous living room, with its wood-frame couch and beanbag chairs. Hanging on the wall over the couch is one of Helena’s tapestries. Its color scheme is olive-green, yellow, and reddish-brown. Jenny pauses. “Is this a new one? Do you think it’s made of wool from the sheep?”

  “No doubt,” Thomas mumbles, rooting around in his pants pocket for his cigarettes.

  “I bet she dyed it herself with plants and bark or something.”

  Jenny throws open the sunroom doors and sits in a wicker chair. She’s surrounded by geraniums. Her salmon-colored dress is stretched tightly across her chest. She crosses her legs and looks at him. “Well?” she says.

  Thomas lights a cigarette and sucks the smoke into his lungs. “Why in the world is Luc here?”

  She shrugs. “Ask Alice. And his name is Luke.”

  “He has no business being here, whatever the hell his name is.”

  “You don’t get to decide that. Let me have a drag.”

  He hands her the cigarette, but she does nothing more than shift the smoke around in her mouth before blowing it out.

  “Are they dating?”

  “No idea.”

  “So what then?”

  Jenny yawns. “I really don’t know, Thomas. Does it even matter?” They can hear the wind in the trees. A breeze. For a moment they both relax and are silent. The weak soughing of the leaves is calming. But then Jenny says, “It’s incredibly upsetting for me to hear about Mom. Kristin’s so brutally honest. She’s totally insensitive.”

  Thomas ashes his cigarette in a potted plant. “There’s no point getting so upset. Can you please stay calm?”

  “You be calm!” she says sharply, turning toward the twilight and the towering black pine trees outside. “After all, you’re completely paranoid about Alice’s random friends. It actually seems like you can’t let go of her, Thomas.”

  She stretches her legs languidly and leans back. “Am I right? You can’t let go of her. But you need to.” Thomas wants to raise his hand and slap her across the cheek; he clenches his fist in his pocket.

  “I think what you’re doing now is a massive projection, dear sister.”

  “A what?”

  “As far as I recall, you called bawling only a short time ago because she’d moved out. Your life was over, you said. Is your life over?”

  “You’re so mean, Thomas. So totally mean. You know what? I wish I was an only child.”

  “I just wish you weren’t such a child. You act like one. It’s really unbecoming at your age.”

  She straightens up and stares angrily at him.

  “Here you are, you two!” Helena stands smiling in the doorway, dressed in a loose-fitting linen dress. “Time to eat. Come join us.”

  Jenny gets to her feet. As she passes Thomas she hisses, “Mean selfish bastard.” He stubs the ashes from his cigarette in a jar filled with withered chives.

  The wonderful aroma of something that has simmered for hours drifts from the kitchen. Herbs, meat, sweet and sour: a thickly condensed scent that instantly relaxes the body, makes it long for food and warmth. And it almost causes Thomas to forget his argument with Jenny; he feels welcomed into the fold, seduced by this fragrance that fills his nose and throat, and he realizes just how hungry he is. When he enters the kitchen, the first thing he sees is Luke and Patricia squatting and talking beside the oven door, which is open. Patricia probes at whatever’s inside the oven with her fork. Then he looks right into Helena’s alert, gentle eyes. He turns his head and sees the long table, now set. And there, at the table, with a glass of red wine in his hand, is Maloney. Maloney, here, in this kitchen. Thomas halts and simply points at him. Maloney waves. “I told you I’d see you soon!” He stands up and approaches Thomas, grinning from ear to ear. “Gotch
a, didn’t I?” He taps Thomas on the shoulder. “Jenny invited me. I thought I’d surprise you. We drove up here this afternoon, and I just returned from a quick trip to the neighbor’s. Though quick may not be the right word. There’s a helluva long way between houses up here. They sent me to borrow some coffee.” Jenny leans against Maloney, smiling. “In this house they drink only tea,” she says, “and that’s not good enough for this gentleman.” She beams at him. Now her face seems totally open, and this lazy sensuality seems to pulsate in her supple body. The fabric of her salmon-colored dress shines with the same brightness as her eyes. Maloney wraps his arm around her. “You should’ve seen the man who opened the door at that farm. Hell, it looked as though he hadn’t seen a living person in years. He freaked me out!” Thomas has nothing to say; he simply stares at the two, blinking. Has to back away and lean against the kitchen table. “But Thomas,” Patricia says, “It’s just Maloney.” Then she laughs resoundingly. And Kristin says, “A lot of men we’ve got here now! Usually it’s just you, Thomas. And of course the dog.” Thomas feels everyone’s eyes on him, feels the discomfort, the sweat, his blushing face. A dull rage. Manically he brings bottles, bowls, and baskets of bread to the table. Alice giggles. “He’s completely pale,” Kristin snorts, “give that poor man a glass of wine!”

  They take their seats, and Helena brings the bulky iron pot over from the oven. “Coq au vin!” she says, blowing hair off her face. Patricia carries oven-grilled potatoes and parsnips, and there’s bread, hummus, baba ghanoush, and olives. Kristin ladles up the food. Thomas glances miserably at Patricia; she tugs him down next to her. Across from them sit Maloney and Jenny, Maloney with one hand firmly planted on Jenny’s thigh. Luke sits like a king at the head of the table, as if he had the right. Kristin takes a seat at the other end. The twins pick at their food and are given strict orders to at least try it. Conversation commences. Silverware clinks against the glazed ceramic plates. Luke and Alice have decided to get up early and go fishing on Sunday. But tomorrow they want to go hiking, Alice announces proudly. “You’re not usually a nature lover,” Jenny says. “Quite the opposite. When she lived at home with me she could lie on the couch for days. But apparently that’s changed. Now it seems you can’t get enough fresh air.” Alice pushes her fork through her hummus. “We are actually in nature now, Mom, so why not see what it’s got to offer?” Jenny gives her daughter an arrogant look. Then she seems to change her mind and nods, smiling kindly. Thomas is amazed they don’t begin to argue; everything feels wrong to him. Patricia beams at Luke when he raises his glass and they toast. The coq au vin is as tender and delicious as Thomas had hoped. The meat slides easily from the bones, and the sauce is dark and strong. Still, after a few bites he loses his appetite. Maloney tells them about the break-in, and the more wine he drinks, the more colorful are the details. Thomas doesn’t say a word. Kristin shouts, “Cheers! Welcome all of you!” She gets to her feet. The twins clink glasses and giggle. Kristin takes a deep breath and looks warmly at each of the guests. “Our family has always been too small. So I’m especially happy to see so many at the table tonight. I hope we’ll have a couple of truly wonderful days together. Please make yourselves at home. You are home with us.” Helena smiles at Kristin, who’s clearly moved. “Thank you for the invitation!” Maloney cries out. “My family’s extinct, so I’m happy there’s room for me.” They laugh. Thomas scrutinizes Luke. He eats with careful, regulated movements, scraping the meat from the bones, pushing sauce and meat onto his fork, lifting the fork with a sure hand to his mouth and chewing slowly, mouth closed. His face reveals nothing, no openings. “It’s delicious, Helena,” Patricia says. “What are we having for dessert?” one of the twins mumbles, biting her frayed sleeve. “Rumor has it that Maloney brought us a frozen custard,” Kristin says, smiling at Maloney. “Were you afraid you’d only get carrots and bran crackers up here?”

  “A little.” Maloney gives a jolly laugh and pours more wine.

  “Be happy you’re not here during the summer when we only eat vegetables, it’s terrible,” one of the twins mutters.

  “With dirt still on them,” the other says.

  “From the garden?” Patricia asks.

  They nod.

  “Your self-sufficiency is impressive.”

  “There’s no one else to provide for us out here in the sticks,” Kristin says.

  “No, but they also taste better. And it’s cheaper. You love our tomatoes, don’t you Maya?” Helena wipes her hands with her napkin.

  Maya doesn’t respond. She gnaws at her sleeve.

  “Did you know they raised these cockerels themselves?” Patricia asks.

  “Oh my God!” Jenny nearly swallows something down the wrong pipe. “How do you have the heart to do it? Cute little chickens, living and breathing . . .”

  “You bet they were living and breathing, hon. Do you think it’s any better for hens in cages?” Maloney gulps his wine. “Do you hunt, too?”

  “Of course,” Kristin says. “I do.”

  “You actually have a hunting license? And a gun?”

  “I sure do. We’ve got four hares and a deer in the freezer.”

  “Not to mention a dozen pheasants,” Helena adds, nodding proudly at Kristin. “Kristin’s famous for hitting the target on every shot.”

  Alice glances brightly around, from one to the other. “I’m so excited to be here with all of you.” Her voice is subdued and delicate.

  “Oh, Alice, that’s so sweet of you,” Helena says, reaching out to stroke her cheek. “We’re excited to have you here with us. To Alice!” They toast, then dish more food onto their plates. They pass around the salad. “Great dressing, Luke,” and the bread—what an incredible texture. Kristin lights a candle on the windowsill, and Thomas is sent to the utility room to get more wine. He uses the opportunity to go outside and smoke. It’s pitch dark. The lamplight is dim, yellow. How dare Maloney show up unannounced. And Luke. What the hell’s he to make of Jenny and Maloney dating? Are they really dating? He called her hon. Thomas feels a faint anger, but only as a sad ripple through his body. Then the grief: No one told him anything. Not his sister, not his best friend. No one wants to confide in him. No one wants to share anything with him. He shivers in the evening cold. I’m lonely, he thinks. I am a lonely fool disconnected from reality. I’m an old, lonely fool who pushes everyone away. I’ve apparently pushed everyone away. Even Patricia. I’m a complete fuck-up. Here comes the self-pity, and it’s ugly. Damn, how it reeks. He grabs two bottles of wine from a shelf in the pantry, where it smells vaguely of onions and earthy potatoes. The kitchen is warm, humming with laughter and conversation. Thomas slides into his chair. Patricia rubs his knee under the table. “Are you okay?” she whispers. He nods, thankful for this little caress, and her smile. He spits an olive pit into the palm of his hand. “Time for coffee!” Maloney rises. “Precious coffee from ‘the neighbor.’”

  “Let me help you,” Jenny chirps, wriggling after him. Alice and the twins collect the dirty plates and set them in the dishwasher. The two girls seem captivated by Alice. They admire her tattoo, and she lets them touch the tiny stud in her nose. They run their fingers over her bracelet. Thomas observes the skinny girls, Alice’s young woman’s body, their trim waists, their straight backs, Alice’s perfectly formed breasts under her T-shirt, the girls’ small mounds. They’re growing, he thinks, they’re transforming. But I’m not.

  “Well, Thomas,” Kristin says. “Tell me how you’ve been.”

  “I’m doing all right.”

  “You look like a drowned cat, to put it bluntly.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Honestly, you look terrible. Have you been working too much?”

  “No more than usual.”

  “Is it the break-in?”

  He shakes his head.

  “Or did Jacques’s death affect you more than you thought it would?”

  He shrugs his shoulders, irritated.

  “But you’ve been mo
re down in the dumps than usual,” Patricia says.

  “What do you mean by that?” Even Thomas can hear how tense he sounds.

  “You had to go to the doctor and all that. He had to go to the doctor. He was depressed. I can tell Kristin about that, can’t I, Thomas?”

  “I’m sorry to hear that, my friend.” Kristin sizes him up. “Life isn’t for the faint of heart.”

  “I’m not faint of heart. C’mon. You of all people know what it was like for us, what things were like. You know very well I couldn’t stand Jacques. I’m not shedding one tear over him, if that’s what you think. On the contrary.”

  “Thomas . . .” Patricia gives him a hard look. Kristin drains her glass and calmly puts it back on the table. “What I mean is that life is always full of challenges. Disappointments. Piss and shit. Pardon my language. But what I mean is, you might as well get used to it. No one will throw you a pity party. And especially not at your age. You’ve just got to get back in the saddle.”

  “Back in the saddle!” Thomas leans back, shaking his head.

  “We’ve been thinking about having a baby.” Patricia sounds suddenly drunk and shrill.

  “That sounds really lovely,” Kristin says. “I didn’t think you even wanted to have children, Thomas.”

  He mumbles something incomprehensible.

  “When Helena said she wanted children, I was up in arms. I was terrified. I didn’t want kids. Even though I was a midwife and delivered newborns every day, I didn’t want any of my own. Now I can’t imagine my life without the responsibility. All at once I understood why I must die someday. It’s so simple: I’ll die so that they can live. And so their children can live. I know that sounds terribly clichéd, but it’s the truth.”

  “It sounds holier-than-thou,” Thomas mutters.

  Kristin flashes a resigned smile and exchanges a glance with Patricia. She gets up to help out in the kitchen. Patricia’s voice is friendly and firm. “You’re acting like a grumpy teenager. If you don’t get your act together, I’m going home. This is your own family, here, and yet you act like this. Why? I just don’t get it. And how can your mood shift so suddenly? We just fucked in the car. This is your last chance, Thomas.” She opens her eyes wide: serious, mouth closed. He nods. “Yes,” he says. She stands and walks to the kitchen, to the others. He pours more wine, all the way up to the rim of his glass, and drinks the tart, cherry-red liquid in big gulps. “Goddamnit, how can they serve this shit,” he grumbles, pushing his chair back. Then he goes out to the barn.