Finny

by Justin Kramon

  “I have to move the car,” Carter said to Garreth. “Just remember Yvonne gets the dry food, and Curly the mix.” Carter looked at Finny. “Dogs,” he said.

  “Which one gets the dry?” Garreth said. “Kidding. You really are becoming my mother.” Then he kissed Carter goodbye, told Finny again how nice it was to meet her.

  “You have dogs?” Finny said to Carter when they rounded the corner.

  Carter took a set of keys out of his pocket and pressed a button, causing the blue minivan in front of them to chirp and flash its lights. “And if you say anything about the minivan,” Carter said, “I’m going to lock you in the doggy cage and you’re not coming out till we get to Westhampton.”

  Once they’d settled into their lane on the Long Island Expressway, Finny said to Carter, “It seems like there’ve been some changes on your end.”

  “You mean the hair?” Carter said.

  “Among other things,” Finny said. “Have you joined a mahjong club?”

  “It’s the damn married life. Turns a decent couple into the gay version of the Partridge Family. Maybe that’s redundant.”

  On their right some strip malls flashed by. Finny saw a fried chicken restaurant, an adult movie store with blackened windows, a defunct Shell station with boarded-up gas pumps. The sky was still gray, but not as ominous, more like a thin milk shake than batter. It seemed the storm might pass without rain.

  “What about you?” Carter said. “What ever happened to that cute boyfriend of yours I met in New York? I thought you were on the slow boat to marriage, too.”

  “You mean Earl? I think that boat stopped off on some Caribbean island and never got going again. We’re not in touch anymore.”

  “Anything happen?”

  Finny shrugged. She didn’t know exactly what to call it.

  Carter sighed. “So what are your projects nowadays?”

  “Work, mostly.” She was going to say something about the magazine job she’d been offered, just float it, but she couldn’t think of how to do it without inviting questions.

  Carter wrinkled his eyebrows. “Are you kidding me? I’m as sober as Nancy Reagan at a MADD meeting, driving a fucking minivan to a Memorial Day barbecue, and you’re not going to tell me about getting your buzz on and titty-fucking a stranger in the bathroom of a club called Nerve? What the hell am I driving you around for anyway? Don’t you know that when a married person asks a single friend what’s going on, it’s the equivalent of buying porn?”

  “Are you and Garreth really married?”

  “In spirit,” Carter said. “We call it ‘committed.’ I think of it as a life sentence, with only the very dim possibility of parole. And not for good behavior.”

  “Can I ask you, though, seriously,” Finny said, “what made the change? I mean, I didn’t really expect you to settle down so soon.”

  “Yeah, well,” Carter said, and then twisted his hands on the steering wheel, like he was wringing out a soaked towel. He seemed to be considering what to say next. It might have been the first time Finny had ever seen him hesitate.

  Then he said, “I found out I have the bug, Finny.” She must have looked confused, because Carter went on. “HIV. Not the grand prize. But a solid runner-up.”

  “Oh God, Carter,” Finny said. “I’m so sorry.” Her vision went blurry for a second, then came back, like she’d been shaken. “What happened?”

  “I’d just been swinging for too long. It catches up with you. I can’t even tell you the life we were leading, Finny. I know Garreth looks tame. But trust me when I tell you that our first night together I was snorting a line of coke off his dick and he was fucking me senseless while I vomited in the toilet. I don’t mean to say this to gross you out. Well, maybe a little. But what I’m trying to tell you is that we were out of our minds. Possessed. I don’t know if it was love or what, but it went crazy.

  “Anyway,” Carter went on, “we had this party. Drugs, booze. Both of us getting fucked left, right, and sideways. It’s the way we lived. Our only agreement was that we’d use condoms. So this one time I didn’t. I don’t remember if we were out, or I was too lazy. But of course I got it. One mistake, and I had doctors telling me my life expectancy.”

  “It’s hard to imagine—” Finny said.

  “And that’s not the worst of it,” Carter interrupted. He was as serious as she’d ever seen him. He wouldn’t look at her while he spoke, but kept staring ahead through the windshield, almost like he was summoning the story from the gray sky. “Garreth kicked me out. It was the one thing we’d agreed upon—the one thing we both did for the other person, for us—and I’d broken his trust. He said he couldn’t forgive me.

  “I found this little rat hole, deep in Hell’s Kitchen, and just started going really hard at the drugs and the booze. I had these days I called ‘missed days,’ which were times when I woke up and started drinking, and the next thing I knew it was tomorrow. It went on for a couple months like that. I think I was trying to kill myself. I lived next to a strip club, and I made some money selling drugs to the dancers and running little errands for them. Buying them tampons and whatnot.”

  Carter took a long breath, like a drag from a cigarette, and then exhaled it slowly. “Then one day Garreth showed up at my door. At first I didn’t even recognize him. I didn’t believe it could be him. I thought my life was over.” Carter sniffed, and Finny saw that he was blinking away tears. “He came in and sat me down at my kitchen table. I only had one chair. But he made me sit while he cooked me an egg. It was the only thing in my refrigerator. He sat there on the counter and watched me eat it. Then he asked if I was eating okay, if I was getting out. He was concerned. He said that since I left, things just didn’t feel right.”

  Carter sniffed again, then sighed. He rolled his shoulders like he’d been sitting in the same position for too long.

  “He loves you,” Finny said. “I can tell by how he looks at you.”

  “Eh,” Carter said, waving Finny off. “I feed his dogs.”

  “Everyone needs a dog feeder.”

  “Anyway, now we have our place near Ditmas Park with our little backyard. I’m taking all the drugs my measly Healthy New York policy can afford, and doing pretty well. I have a flower business. I actually do the flowers at Garreth’s restaurant. I would have shown you if I hadn’t been feeling sick from all the doggy planning.”

  “I admire you,” Finny said.

  “But my point,” Carter said, as if Finny hadn’t spoken, “is that it is up to you to provide the drama, Finny Short. I cannot deal with a boring weekend. And I think you and I have both seen enough of Judith’s drama. She’s probably as bored and horny as I am, anyway. So you better think quickly of some interesting stories, or else make some Memorial Day resolutions to find some.”

  “I’ll do my best,” Finny said.

  “And one more thing,” Carter said as they were rolling into the pine barrens. There had been a fire here a couple summers ago, Finny knew, and beside the highway the new trees, bright as grass in the early spring, were beginning to peek through the dull forest floor. “I haven’t told Judith about the whole being-sick thing. I don’t exactly see her as a shoulder to cry on, if you know what I mean. So maybe keep that quiet?”

  “You can trust me.”

  “I know I can, Finny Short. It’s one of the many reasons I like you.”

  Carter took the turn into Judith’s U-shaped pebble driveway, and Finny listened to the stones crunch beneath the tires. The clouds had parted, like curtains unveiling the late-afternoon sun. Dune Road was simply a strip of land—wide enough for only a two-lane road with a house on each side—shielding a portion of the south shore of Long Island from the ocean. The houses on one side of the road backed onto the ocean, and on the other side the bay. Judith’s property was on the bay side, sandwiched between a large white modern-looking house that was shaped like a bullet, and a gray house that looked like something a child might make out of blocks. The Hollibrands’ house i
tself was all on one floor, beach-bungalow style. Finny could see through the front windows that there was a large living room in the center, and then a wing on each side, where she assumed the bedrooms were. Behind the house was the bay.

  Judith must have heard the minivan in the driveway because she came out of the front door waving both hands, saying something Finny couldn’t hear. Carter pressed a button to lower the passenger-side window, and Finny caught the words “… my best friends.”

  They got out of the van. The air was warm and salty. Judith was wearing a purple dress with a swath cut out of the neckline, revealing an extensive view of her suntanned breasts, which seemed impossibly larger to Finny, round and brown as two cantaloupes. Judith had put on makeup—some eye shadow, blush on her cheeks—though she seemed to have applied it with a heavier hand than she used to, like she was about to walk onstage. Finny could see a crinkly border of cover-up around her eyes. Judith hugged Carter and Finny in the driveway, and again Finny felt that old creeping discomfort, like she’d been asked to give a speech she hadn’t prepared for. She felt herself hunching, and she tugged at the little black sweater she was wearing. Carter pressed the button to make the minivan chirp.

  “What is that?” Judith asked, laughing.

  “That,” Carter said, “is your future. You laugh now, but no one can escape the minivan. It’s like wrinkles and nursing homes.”

  “It even has a doggy cage,” Finny offered, “which you get locked in if you make fun of it.”

  “By the way,” Judith said to Finny, “your brother’s already here. We’re having drinks on the patio. Why don’t you stick your stuff inside. I’ll show you your rooms. Then you can meet us out there. Prince is driving out with his sister. Unfortunately, she’ll be spending the weekend with us, too.” Judith seemed out of breath when she finished these announcements. Finny could tell she was excited to have her friends back.

  “Just show me the hookers and the hot tub,” Carter said.

  “You have an entirely mistaken idea about the Hamptons,” Judith said.

  “Sorry,” Carter said. “Do the hookers prefer saunas?”

  Outside on the patio, Sylvan was lying on a chaise longue, with a red fruity-looking drink in his hand. Unlike Carter, Sylvan had kept his thin shape into his thirties, though he’d been less successful at keeping his hair. For a while he’d tried to hide the coin of scalp at the back of his head, combing and growing his hair in different ways—including a brief, ill-advised bout with a ponytail—but as his hairline eroded, Finny convinced him that the only sensible route was to face the music and shave his head. Actually, it didn’t look bad on Sylvan. It made him seem older than he was. But that was how Finny thought of him anyway. And the brushstrokes of gray in the stubble at the sides of his head only contributed to a look of distinction.

  Judith told Carter and Finny to have a seat while she brought out some more strawberry daiquiris.

  “Make mine a virgin,” Carter said. “I never thought I’d say that.”

  “Are you kidding?” Judith said.

  “Does that goddamn minivan look like I’m kidding?” Carter responded.

  Judith slipped into the kitchen through the sliding glass door. Everyone said hi. Hugs and kisses all around. Sylvan and Carter knew each other from when Sylvan used to date Judith. The chairs on Judith’s patio, which extended the length of the house, were faced toward the inlet behind the house. The chairs were all made from the same unfinished wood, which Finny knew was calculated to give a rustic effect, and the furniture would have been a chore to move. Around the patio were some reeds and dune plants, and farther down, a strip of beach and the lapping water. It was late afternoon, and the sun spilled its colors across the water. There was a boat doing laps around the inlet, dragging a water-skier. Every once in a while Finny could hear the boat’s driver give an excited shout. She smelled smoke in the air from someone’s barbecue.

  Judith came back out with the drinks for Finny and Carter, and then sat down next to Sylvan. Finny sipped her drink, and winced at the amount of rum in it.

  “Is it okay?” Judith asked Finny. “I make them a little sweeter than Prince does. He likes to really taste the alcohol.”

  “Oh,” Finny said. “It’s good, then.”

  “So,” Judith said, “Sylvan was telling me you’re teaching in Boston.” When she said this, Judith brushed Sylvan on the arm with her fingertips. Finny saw her brother start, like he’d gotten a static shock.

  “I am,” Finny said.

  “So how’s that?”

  “It’s pretty good,” Finny said. “I only hit the kids when they don’t shine my shoes properly.”

  Judith laughed. Finny could see she was having a good time, and Finny found it endearing that her friend could be so thrilled just to sit around and talk with her. It’s what Finny had always liked about Judith—how much fun they could have together, how genuinely Judith enjoyed the company of her friends.

  “What about you?” Finny asked Judith. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m boring the heck out of myself,” Judith said. “It seems like Prince and I are out to dinner or at someone’s party every night. I’m getting my real estate license. The course is a joke. I think I’m ready to have kids. I’m horny as hell, and I keep telling Prince we should take advantage of it.”

  Finny looked at her brother when Judith made this comment, and she saw his eyes dip to Judith’s cleavage for a moment. Judith must have noticed, and been pleased by it, because Finny saw her smile, as if in response to a compliment. It all happened in an instant, but suddenly Finny was worried. She saw that it might have been a mistake to get everyone back together, as if they could just go on as friends. And there was something else Finny saw in that moment. It was something teasing in Judith, something Finny had only glimpsed that summer after she’d left Thorndon, when Judith had talked all the time about “fucking” and how good or bad it was, and who was fucking whom. That summer, Judith had seemed to grow up and become more bitter both at once, and somehow, the woman who sat before Finny now, with her blushed cheeks and swollen breasts, seemed the fruition of a seed that had been planted all those years ago.

  But maybe Finny was wrong. Maybe she was taking it too far. She looked at Carter, and saw that he was practically asleep, probably cursing himself for having driven all this way to listen to other people talk about how boring their lives were.

  Then Prince arrived. He opened the sliding door and walked onto the patio, trailed by a petite woman with frizzy blond hair who was wearing an oversize T-shirt and patched-up jeans. She looked a decade older than Prince, and if Judith hadn’t mentioned before that the woman was his sister, Finny would never have known. Prince’s sister had a large brown and black dog on a leash, who sniffed at the boards of the deck.

  “How’s everyone?” Prince said, waving, smiling his famous smile. Everyone greeted him, and he leaned down to give Judith a kiss, which Finny noticed her brother observing with special interest. For Prince’s part, he looked more clean-cut and professional than he had when he was in college. His dark hair was slicked with gel. He wore a polo shirt and khaki shorts, and appeared just as muscular as he always had, only with maybe a bit more of a belly from all the daiquiris. He seemed comfortable in his role as host, happy to share his good fortune with his wife’s friends. Finny was pleased to note that he no longer doused himself in cologne.

  “This is my sister, Korinne,” Prince said.

  “And this is Homer,” Korinne said, presenting the dog as if he were a guest. “He’s part Doberman, but don’t worry. He is the best and sweetest dog in the world.”

  “I hope no one’s allergic,” Prince said. “I asked her to leave him in the city.”

  “He doesn’t shed,” Korinne said sharply. “And besides, there’s no way I could leave him. He gets depressed when I’m not around.”

  “How do you know he’s depressed?” Finny said.

  “He just mopes and droops. Mopes and droops.” />
  “So would you like a drink?” Prince said to his sister. He already seemed a little exasperated by her. “Or are you all hungry?”

  “Well,” Korinne said, “it’s not that I’m hungry or thirsty. I don’t matter. But when I look at this poor sweet dog. When I look into his dear little eyes”—and here she got on her knees and performed this very task—“he’s telling me he not only wants to eat, but he needs to eat. I can’t deny such a darling creature.” She scratched Homer on the head, lifted his left ear then his right. The dog raised one eyebrow at her.

  “Do you want me to pick up some dog food?” Prince asked.

  “Ha!” Korinne said. “You must be joking. Are you joking? Because it seemed like you were joking, knowing what you do. You said we were going to grill tonight. Homer likes his burger medium-rare, a little pink in the middle.”

  “I can just make it for him now,” Prince offered. “Then we could all enjoy a drink.” He smiled at everyone, which appeared to take some effort.

  “You’d have to be crazy if you think he’s going to eat alone,” Korinne said to her brother. “That would just be sad.”

  “Then he might mope and droop,” Carter offered. Finny could see that he found Prince’s sister funny, and he was going to take full advantage of the tension. Carter seemed to have come back to life, roused by the first hint of entertainment in this crowd. “We don’t want to keep the puppy waiting,” he went on. “Maybe he enjoys a little drink before dinner? A glass of wine?”

  But Korinne didn’t seem to see the humor in this. “He only drinks tequila,” she said. “Don Eduardo. One shot on special occasions. He’s not a lush.” She flattened her mouth and shook her head at Carter.

  “Of course not,” Carter said. “In fact, maybe he’d enjoy some of this strawberry milk shake Judith made me. I can’t finish it without the booze.”

  “The only fruits he likes are mangoes and pomegranates,” Korinne said, and then went inside with Prince to change for dinner.

  “Prince,” Carter called, “I think you might have to go to the market!”