I was the only male for most of the day as my father had sought sanctuary on the golf course. Freud sat with me on the sidelines. I fed him potato chips, salami, cheese, bagels, and let him lick my ice cream bowls. We watched television together and marveled at the women’s inexhaustible chatter.
Later that evening my folks took my aunts out for dinner, and my sisters, cousins, and I went looking for action. Against all my objections we ended up at Fielding’s party, which was as big as he said it would be.
···
As I feared, Fielding, Wilkinson, and a number of their stable mates, all drooling Christmas cheer, swooped down upon my entourage like a herd of horny reindeer. I made a nuisance of myself roving freely between my sisters and cousins, doing my damnedest to stamp out any kindling desires. For some reason I have always considered women to be vulnerable to smarminess. I thought them easy prey to the likes of these handsome, charming, smiling, college brats. My sisters and cousins were not very appreciative of my good intentions, but I didn’t care. I was their shepherd, their sentry, their Samurai—their conscience.
Doreen seized me by the elbow and hauled me to the corner of the room. She said in a roaring whisper, “What’s the matter with you!”
“What do you mean?”
“Why are you doing this?”
“Doing what?”
“Making an ass out of yourself and embarrassing us, that’s what.”
“I wasn’t aware—”
“Don’t play stupid, Guy. What’s your problem?”
“My problem…?” And then I saw it. I saw it as clearly as the amber in my sister’s beautiful, scorning eyes. “My problem is I idealize women and think most men are creeps. Really, Doreen, those guys make me sick. I know what’s going on in their lecherous little minds.”
“What kind of Puritan BS is that, Guy? What’s gotten into you?”
“Call it what you like, but it’s true.”
“What makes you so sure women aren’t every bit as sleazy as men?” she said, as if speaking from experience.
“Maybe, they, you, are, but it’s nearly impossible for me to accept. I’m not saying it’s right. I’m saying that’s my problem.”
“Let me tell you something, buster,” she said, narrowing her eyes. “No woman can or wants to live up to your ideal. It’s a trap, and if you bothered to think it through for a moment you’d realize that your ideals are very selfish and chauvinistic.”
“How do you know?” I retorted. “You don’t even know what my ideals are.”
“I think I can guess,” she said. But she didn’t try and I didn’t ask her to. Instead she said, “Nobody is going home with anybody tonight, so relax, would you? There’s nothing wrong with a little flirting. Don’t be such a prude.”
I gazed past Doreen’s shoulder at the mingling mob and wondered why I was so hard on people. I was certainly in no position to pass judgment. I was every bit as inept at life as I thought they were. In fact, I was worse because they at least knew how to enjoy themselves at a party.
“Doreen,” I said, “last night I met three of the most fascinating women.”
Doreen smiled, no longer angry. Perhaps she recognized the loneliness in my gaze. “Guy, you say that about every woman you meet.”
“Yeah, but this time it’s different.”
“You always say that too.”
“Okay, but did I ever say they made me want to change my life?”
The look in my eye must have carried some weight because her expression changed from amusement to interest.
“Three? What was so special about them?”
“I can’t say exactly. I’ve been trying to put my finger on it all day.”
“They were pretty, of course,” she said, not bothering to hide her sarcasm.
“Beautiful,” I corrected. “But that’s not it. They were like no women I’ve ever met before.”
Doreen groaned. “Give me a break, Guy. This idealization fixation of yours is getting out of hand, don’t you think? Just a little, huh? It’s not healthy.”
“Yeah, yeah, but I’m telling you, these girls were really unique.”
Doreen folded her arms across her chest, her right foot tapping the floor impatiently. “How?”
“I don’t know…like they were more alive than most people. More real or awake or something.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
“Yeah, well, if you had met them I guarantee you—”
“Guy,” Doreen said, shaking her head, “these women, they poop and pick their noses just like the rest of us.”
“No, they don’t!” I protested. “Gross, Doreen. I mean…okay, maybe they do, but that’s not the point.”
“What is the point?”
“The point is…”
Hold on. Where did that point go? My kingdom for a point. I was without a point. Pointless. Maybe that was my point.
I said, “They made me feel as if I am missing out on something big time.”
“You might have flunked out of college, Guy. You have good reason to feel like that.”
“I want to do something, Doreen.”
“Fine, who’s stopping you?”
I knew the answer to that, of course, as did Doreen, as does everyone. I didn’t reply. Instead I asked her what she wanted to do.
“I’ve told you before, Guy. I’m going to graduate, and then it’s off to law school…probably. I’m going to work, marry, and raise a wonderful family. It’s a full life, I think. Maybe it doesn’t look like much on paper, but I’m sure by the end I’ll be exhausted.”
“Yeah, well, why do you want to do that? Do you dream about it at night? Is it the most important thing in the world to you? Or are you just being sensible?”
“There’s nothing wrong with being sensible, Guy.”
She could have added, ‘You should try it someday.’ I would have. But Doreen was way above such pettiness. In high school she was a cheerleader, a track star, the lead in every play, a prom queen, and an honor student. She had a date every weekend and everyone worshipped her, but it never went to her head. She was nice to everyone. I had never heard her utter a single mean or belittling word, not even behind the back of a freshman. She could get angry, but she never got mean. I did, though.
“Of course not,” I said. “Not if your goal in life is to produce the perfect corporate résumé. You have so many charms and talents, Doreen. Being sensible will only make you dull, boring—ordinary. The world is a screwed up place, in case you haven’t noticed. And who’s running this madhouse? Scores of sensible people just like you. And who’s letting them screw it up? Millions of sensible people, just like you.”
“So it’s my fault the world’s a mess, is it?”
“No, I’m just saying that I think you’re kidding yourself.”
“One might say the same about you, you know?”
“And one would be absolutely correct in doing so, but at least I know I’m kidding myself. But you, Doreen, you think you’re being sensible when in fact, you’re just scared.”
“Scared of what?”
“Lots of things.”
“Name one.”
“Okay, like taking chances. Everything comes easy to you, so you can get away without ever having to really test yourself.”
“If you mean school, I have to study hard. I’m not a genius like Maureen and the others.”
“I don’t mean school. School is just a formula that you follow. Anyone can do well in school if he bothers to. Even me. I’m not putting you down for being a good student, but you and the others have won so many awards, contests, and congratulations over the years that you think that the only challenges that exist are those which end with the approval of some judge, professor, or institution.”
“Well, Guy, what is it you think I should be doing with my life, huh? What kind of challenges do you have in mind for me? What is it that deserves your approval? Tell me, I’d like to know.”
I didn’t k
now, and I was sorry that I opened my big mouth in the first place. Why was I giving Doreen such a hard time? She didn’t deserve it. She was a good person, a really good person. What did I want from her? Something was bugging me and it had to do with the three girls I met the night before, that’s all I knew.
“Hell, Doreen, I’m just cranky. I don’t know what I’m talking about. Sorry. I’m gonna get another beer…”
I made a move to go but Doreen put her hand on my chest and stopped me. She should have been angry, but her eyes revealed only compassion. Even though Doreen was my sister I thought she was about the prettiest creature on this planet. She had a mane of wild black hair, a glowing complexion, and features capable of a thousand expressions. It was a face you could never grow tired of looking at.
“I’ve talked to the others, Guy. We want to help you. We’ve come up with a few ideas. Colleen said that—”
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why should you girls want to do anything for me?”
“Don’t be a dickhead, Guy. Gawd, what a ridiculous question.”
“No, it isn’t. I’m a lousy brother. I’ve never done anything for you girls.”
“Shut up, of course you have.”
I almost dared her to name an instance, but I was petrified that she wouldn’t have been able to come up with one.
“You’re the only brother we’ve got,” she added, “and we love you. Besides, it’s not your fault you have a learning disability.”
“Doreen! I can’t believe you just said that. I don’t have any damn learning disability. Tell me you don’t really believe that crap.”
“I don’t know what to believe, Guy. You’re troubled, that’s all I know. You shouldn’t be flunking school.”
“Maybe I did it on purpose, okay? Maybe I think it’s a crock. Maybe I have a problem with authority. Maybe I just don’t know why I’m even there!”
Doreen said, “And maybe you’re just lazy.”
Hold on. That’s twice in twenty-four hours that someone has called me lazy. Was it just a coincidence? I had the uncomfortable feeling that a mirror was being held up to my face and that my reflection was demanding, well, reflection.
Doreen let out a big sigh. “Oh, Guy…”
“What?”
“Nothing. I just feel bad for you, that’s all.” She put her arms around me and kissed me on the cheek.
Aw, jeez, I thought. Pity. I’ve really hit bottom.
“Do you want to hear what we were thinking?” she asked. “About what you might do if you flunked out?”
“Sure,” I said in surrender. “But not now. Later, okay?”
The rest of the evening I behaved a little better. I drank a few more beers and mellowed. I chatted with my cousins. I made a few luckless passes at some girls I didn’t know. I drank some more beer.
Midnight found me sitting on the kitchen counter watching everybody else having a good time. I saw Fielding ask Doreen what her sign was. She smile coquettishly and answered, “Slippery when wet.” I slapped my forehead and nearly tumbled into the sink.
I thought a lot about Noriko and Johanna. I wondered what they were doing that night. Surely they had finally met up. I imagined them at some swanky coffee house sipping espresso and discussing the pre-Socratics. Boy, what I would have given to be with them instead of where I was stuck. I wondered if one of them would mention my name.
Stars and Gripes
Christmas was fun in spite of myself. Everyone was bubbly and relaxed. By four o’clock when we had opened the hundred plus gifts under the tree, the living room was ankle deep in wrapping paper, tissue, and cardboard. My sisters and cousins had plastered Freud with adhesive bows as the poor fellow sauntered from person to person, dragging tinsel, string, and ribbon behind him in his never-ending quest for something to eat or lick.
I made a killing. I got lots of clothes for starters, and my sisters also went in together and got me some cool camping gear: a sleeping bag, a Swiss Army knife, a backpack, binoculars, and a nice pair of heavy-duty hiking boots. From my aunts and cousins I scored a Cross fountain pen, some iTunes gift cards, another year’s subscription to National Geographic, and a whole lot of other goodies. How could I be depressed after a haul like that?
I did my shopping at the airport—golf tees for my dad, a calendar for my mom, and matching coffee mugs that said ARIZONA for my four wonderful sisters. They were thrilled and smothered me with kisses. Was I the luckiest guy in the world, or what?
Having decided that a sit-down meal was impractical, my mother and her sisters laid a tremendous buffet spread. Some of us ate in the living room, some in the kitchen, some out on the patio, and some in the den. Freud ate everywhere. The booze was plentiful and everyone was tipsy or drunk, including Freud, who eventually barfed on my Aunt Jeannie’s lap.
Later in the evening, as I sat on my bed sorting my Christmas loot, my cousin Debra walked in and put me in a very awkward position.
Debra was Colleen’s age, and my Aunt Sylvia’s youngest daughter. She was attractive in a seductively sleazy kind of way, with short sandy hair, beguiling hazel eyes, and bee-stung lips. She put the ass in nasty, and I had been avoiding her all day; not because I didn’t like her, but because whenever she was around I’d say the dumbest things to distract myself from the lecherous thoughts that were always leaping up weed-like in my mind.
“Whatcha doin’?” she asked, and sat down on the bed beside me, conspicuously close. In her hand was one of her stocking stuffers; a rolled up magazine, one of those fat, expensive, fashion glossies that my sisters were always buying.
“Just checking out my toys,” I said cheerfully. “Thanks again for the gift, Debra. It was very thoughtful of you.” She had presented me with a photo and official certificate stating that a star somewhere in Andromeda had been named ‘Guy’ in my honor. “It’s comforting to know that if things ever get bad enough for me here, there’s a place I can go where I’ll be well known.”
Debra giggled. “Everyone wants to be a star. Now you are.”
“That rhymes,” I said.
“Maybe I should be a poet.”
“You know it,” I chimed.
“You’re cute, Guy.”
“That’s a lie.”
She laughed. “Stop it. I think you’re drunk.”
“Nah,” I chaffed, “I’m a monk.”
She slapped my knee and scooted closer. “I emailed you twice but you never wrote back.”
“That sounds like me. I’m a little slack.”
She slapped my knee again, and nearly hopped onto my lap. “Why didn’t you answer my email?” she pouted. “You said you would write.”
“You gave me such a fright.”
“I don’t regret what we did.”
“I was just a kid.”
“I thought it was sweet.”
“You were in heat.”
Debra gave me a shove and I rocked back smacking my head on the bedpost. “You were scared, that’s for sure.” She giggled again, a look of reminiscence in her naughty eyes. “The first time, anyway…”
“I was scared the second time too, only for different reasons. I thought for sure we were going to get caught.”
“But we weren’t,” she said. She slid a hand under the cuff of my pants and tickled my calf.
“I was a lot younger then,” I said. “I’m a different Guy now.”
“More experienced, no doubt.”
“Not much more, unfortunately.”
“You don’t expect me to believe that, do you? Come on, Guy. Tell me. How many women have you been with?”
“It’s none of your business.”
“Sure it is. I was your first. It’s my right to know.”
I shook my head, astounded by her sense of logic. Debra got up from the bed and walked over to the door and closed it. She turned slowly around, her hands behind her back, lips pursed, a naughty gleam in her eye. She bounced her eyebrows.
“Open the
door, Debra. People might get the wrong idea.”
“Oh, it’s a good idea…”
“You’ve had too much eggnog. Open the door, please.”
“You want to,” she purred. “I can tell.”
“No, I do not,” I said firmly. Oh yes I do. Oh yes I do. “No way, Debra. Uh-uh. It’s too…dangerous.”
“I think danger is sexy.”
I wasn’t sure if it was the silk in her voice, or the way she ran her tongue across her teeth, but I feared that there was some truth in what she said, and the truth was inching down my leg of its own volition.
“Debra,” I commanded. “Open the door.”
She shook her head, no.
“Please?”
“Nope.”
“Fine,” I said. “Leave it shut. I don’t care because we’re not going to be doing anything. You got that?” I picked up Debra’s magazine and pretended to interest myself in it.
Debra leaped back onto the bed and wrapped her legs around my waist and her arms around my chest. She set her chin on my shoulder and then began to nibble on my ear. With a Herculean effort I tried to ignore her, focusing my attention on an article about a new diet where all you eat is raisins. I thought, Why couldn’t you be Melody-slash-Johanna-slash-Noriko…?
Debra pushed my hair aside and began to work like a beaver up and down the nape of my neck. My eyelids slumped shut and my head grew light. I mechanically turned the page to let on that I was still reading, knowing full well that I was only moments from spinning around and pouncing on top of her.
“Fake! Phony!”
“Huh?” I muttered, my eyes closed and in the final stages of meltdown.
“She has no right to be that beautiful. Her skin, it’s too creamy, too perfect. I betcha anything it’s camera filters…”
I didn’t know who or what the hell Debra was yapping about. I just wanted her to shut up and put me down like the sick dog that I was. Then I felt the snap of a finger on the magazine.
“Fake!”
I opened my eyes and there was Noriko in a low-cut, black silk gown, a string of pearls around her smooth neck, looking exquisite.
Say Uncle Page 6
