Seriously? I thought. First the flight attendants and now her?
I nodded for his benefit but heaved a mental sigh. I didn’t recall him being such a horndog when I was younger. He probably was and I just didn’t know it, but the realization came as a bit of a downer. Then again, maybe he was just congratulating me, although I doubted it. Besides, how was I responsible for what Kim looked like? And what if she’d been a complete airhead? Or a self-centered pretty girl?
I sighed. My father was from a different generation, one where the man got credit for an attractive wife. And he’d grown up with the double standard that men were studs and women were sluts if they had multiple partners. At least he didn’t think of Mom like that. His attitude toward Kim, however, spoke volumes. She was just a score, a notch on the bedpost.
He was a good man in many ways, but his version of the sexual revolution meant more women for him rather than equality for them. At least he and my mom still had a healthy and apparently happy relationship, even though it wasn’t as perfect as I’d always thought. He’d already said as much, that day in the driveway.
“What’s the matter?” Christy asked quietly.
“Nothing. I’ll tell you later.”
She nodded and squeezed my hand for reassurance.
I glanced at her and thought about our relationship. We were still in our honeymoon phase, yet things between us weren’t always simple or painless. Maybe that was part of growing up. The world was complicated, and things on the inside of a relationship weren’t the same as what people saw from the outside. That was the case with my parents.
They were talking with Carter and Kim, so I leaned down to Christy.
“What’s that line?” I asked in a low voice. “I think it’s from the Bible. Something about putting away childish things?”
She concentrated for a moment and then spoke in my ear, “First Corinthians. ‘When I was a child, I spoke as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child; but when I became a man, I put away childish things.’ That one?”
I nodded.
She glanced at my parents and seemed to understand. I’d just put away the childish notion of a comfortable, carefree marriage. Christy gave me a sad, hopeful smile. She squeezed my hand again and stretched toward my ear.
“Do you know who wrote it? That verse?”
I shook my head.
“Paul, the Apostle.”
I straightened and blinked in surprise, and she nodded.
My mom started to invite us to watch the fireworks with them, but my dad stopped her with an expression I never saw. He didn’t gesture, either, so I was a bit surprised when she smoothly changed her question into a polite remark. She’d done it because of him, though. I almost laughed at the irony. My parents had a complicated relationship with flexible notions of fidelity, but they could communicate on a level that even I couldn’t follow.
Then again, Christy and I did the same thing. The thought lifted my spirits enough that I shook off the melancholy before it had a chance to get its hooks in me. My parents made the excuse that they were headed to Susan’s house, so we said goodbye and continued down the hill toward the lake.
The entire population must have come to watch the fireworks. One cheerful couple, full-time residents from Susan’s parents’ day, had to be in their eighties—their late eighties. He was in a wheelchair, and she sat beside him. They held hands on top of a blanket spread across their laps.
I couldn’t help but wonder if the universe was trying to tell me something.
The grass around the lake was crowded but not packed. I saw people I vaguely remembered and many who were new. Mr. Nelson of the wire jewelry was there. He was sitting with a couple of other residents, including the grumpy old man from earlier in the day. We skirted them without saying hello.
Then I spotted Dennis and Elaine Raeford. I called and waved, and we exchanged polite hellos. I saw others I knew but didn’t feel the need to speak to, like Manfred Eriksson’s parents and Dwight and Karen Delozier. Dwight was “Donkey Dick,” of the under-the-counter blowjob fame. They were sitting with Stan and Terri Dunbar, who’d been the other half of the blowjob. Both couples were swingers, part of my parents’ extended group.
I thought of Terri Cortez, even though she looked nothing like her namesake. Terri Dunbar was a regular-sized woman with short blonde hair and smallish breasts. I gazed at her for a moment and then blinked in surprise. She looked exactly like an actress in a couple of the porn movies Brooke had sent us. I nudged Christy and gestured for her to look.
She did a double-take. “Oh my gosh. She looks just like—” She leaned close and finished in a whisper, “The woman in Taboo, the mother’s friend. They’re at her house in the beginning. Of the second one, I mean. And she’s the one who has the orgy in the first one.”
“That’s why I pointed her out.” I chuckled and added, “Remind me to tell you about her and Dwight and the barbecue sauce.”
“Barbecue sauce?”
“Trust me, you’ll understand when you hear the story.”
“If you say so.”
I thought about mentioning Dwight to Carter, but I didn’t know how serious he was. Besides, Kim might not be so enthusiastic about a horse-cock for real. So I kept the thought to myself until I knew them better. Besides, I hadn’t even had sex with her myself.
Priorities, I thought, and the little head agreed.
Carter and Kim had found a spot for our blanket and spread it on the grass.
“Sorry,” I said when we joined them. “I had to say hi to people.”
“No problem. Let’s get comfortable. Do you want me to do the honors?” He gestured to the basket, and I handed it over. He withdrew one of the bottles of wine. Beads of condensation covered it, and he frowned at the bottle still in the basket.
“Oh, Carter,” Kim said, “it doesn’t matter if it gets warm. We’re going to drink it anyway.”
“Right you are, hon.”
He opened the bottle and filled four cups as we settled on the blanket. We made small talk until the fireworks started. They were totally minor-league, just as I remembered. And they were everything I loved about the Pines—small and quaint, a throwback to a simpler time. The crowd oohed and aahed and applauded the grand finale. I glanced at Carter and Kim as the booms and smoke faded into the night.
“Well? What did you think?”
“It was amazing,” she said with wine-fueled enthusiasm.
He wasn’t impressed, but he kept it to himself. Then he studied Kim for a moment. He didn’t want to be a wet blanket on her enjoyment, so he adjusted his attitude.
“Yeah,” he said after a moment. “Yeah, it was. Well, maybe not ‘amazing,’ but it was fun.”
“Oh, Carter,” she said fondly, “don’t be such a snob.”
“I’m not! I said it was fun.”
“Mmm hmm.” She lay back and rested her head on his leg. Then she trailed her fingertips over her incredibly flat stomach. “You’re just saying that.”
“No, I really enjoyed it.”
She let it drop and gazed up at the stars. “So romantic.”
“It is.”
The people around us were gathering their things and folding their blankets, but they respected our little bubble of privacy.
“I like it here,” Kim added. Her fingers moved higher, to the valley between her flattened breasts. She idly circled one nipple with her middle finger. “The people too.”
“Especially the people,” Carter agreed.
“You don’t have to be so cautious, you know.”
His eyebrows rose in mild surprise, but he didn’t say anything.
“I want to do it, to make you happy, like we talked about.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure,” she said immediately.
“Okay,” I said into the silence, “that’s our cue. Head back to the Retreat?”