Kim’s overreaction was clearly a pretext, the drugs a metaphor for all the other problems in their marriage. She had griped for years about their lack of connection, the “distance” between them, his constant state of distractedness. She resented his obsession with his work, though not the work itself, as if that even made sense. Jeff’s wife had a vision for their life: beautiful house; nice cars; polite, well-educated children; and a partnership that the neighbors envied, no matter what was going on beneath the surface. Kim should have married a politician.
But Jeff had to put the kids first. He knew from experience that growing up with divorced parents was no picnic, so he had agreed to Kim’s conditions. The trust was gone; he’d killed it. She didn’t want to treat him like one of the children, but apparently, she would have to. His extracurricular activities would have to be curtailed: straight home after work, no more drinks with the guys or weekend golf tournaments that invariably led to the bar. Business trips presented a problem that they would have to work around. He would check in before going out for dinner in the evening and once he returned at night. She would then call the hotel and ask to be transferred to his room to ensure he was where he said he was. Of course, there was no way she could know if he went out and got “all tripped out” later, but he told her she could call him at any hour of the day or night if she wanted. A year later, the system was still in place. She’d finally stopped rifling through his pockets every night. . . . Or he was pretty sure she’d stopped.
At least he had his triathlon training. Kim grudgingly accepted the time he spent at the pool, on his bike, or on the pavement. It gave him a goal, something to strive toward. It was also a means of escape from the palpable resentment pervading his home. That, and work kept him sane. And the kids. They were worth it.
He was reaching for the greasy handle of the liquor store door when he became aware of a presence to his right. He turned, a little panicked given the dodgy neighborhood. It was a boy, about Hannah’s age, with dark eyes and artfully shaved hair. “Hey . . . ,” he said, a cheeky grin spreading across his face. Jeff heard distant giggling and glanced over to see two boys with a similar look, lurking at the side of the building. There was a girl with them, too. She was wearing short shorts, her legs a bit too pale and a bit too chubby to successfully pull off the look. But he knew boys that age weren’t expecting supermodels. The kid near him blushed and continued. “You look like a cool guy. Would you buy my friends and me some beer?”
Jeff paused for the briefest of moments. Did he look like a cool guy, sweaty and disheveled in his expensive running gear? Driving his cool electric car? Was he a cool guy? He used to be pretty cool, back in the day, but things had changed. He had changed—thanks, mostly, to Kim. “Sorry, kid.” He said, pulling the door open and cementing his uncool status. He caught a whiff of the kid’s words on the air as the door closed behind him. They weren’t complimentary.
As he moved toward the beer fridge, he felt a twinge of something . . . like regret. He wanted to be the kind of guy who bought those kids beer. He wanted them to wander off with their six-pack and talk about how great he was, instead of calling him an uptight asshole or whatever the kid had muttered in his wake. Twenty, even ten years ago, he might have been that guy. But he wasn’t stupid. He wasn’t about to bootleg for a bunch of underage strangers. He knew what could happen.
When he was a teenager, there had been plenty of drinking and partying and general carousing . . . and he’d survived it, even thrived because of it. Mischief and troublemaking built character. When he got together with his friends from school they laughed themselves sick remembering the antics they got up to. Even Kim had a wild side, once upon a time. When they were first dating, they’d spent plenty of nights at crazy parties or in bars. Once, they’d gone to Mexico and Kim had downed tequila shots and danced on the bar in her bra. And then Kim became a mother and it was like flicking a switch. Overnight, Kim became responsible, earnest, doting . . . boring.
He grabbed a six-pack of low-carb, light beer and headed for the counter. He thought about his own kids as he moved. What would they have to look back on when they hit forty? Soccer practice and piano recitals? Debate club and French lessons? Hannah and Aidan were growing up sheltered, overparented, dull. . . . His wife was turning them into plastic, perfect Disney Channel kids. What kind of adults would they turn into? God, he shuddered to think.
He placed his piss-weak beer on the counter, a funk of dissatisfaction clinging to him. The clerk, a bland guy in glasses, waved the wand over the UPC code. “That everything?”
Jeff was about to reply yes, when he spotted the display at his right elbow: pink champagne . . . well, sparkling wine. It had a girly label and festive pink foil wrapped around the easy-pop top. It screamed “bachelorette party” or “sweet sixteen”—without actually screaming it and therefore being pulled from the shelves. It was right there, like some sort of sign from above. He grabbed the bottle and plunked it on the counter. “And this,” he said.
hannah
THAT NIGHT
Marta and Caitlin were the first to arrive. They bustled in with their cargo of various bags: sleeping, overnight, gift. . . .
“You look beautiful,” Caitlin complimented.
Hannah smiled. “Thanks.” She had straightened her dark-blond hair and meticulously applied her makeup. She wanted to look mature and sexy, but not so mature and sexy that her mom noticed and made her go wash her face.
“You look like a model,” Marta contributed, “so tall and skinny.”
Hannah was happy to see her two friends, but their arrival wasn’t exactly thrilling. Marta and Caitlin had been coming to her birthday parties since she was eleven. Ronni had attended a few, too, back when they were kids. But Lauren Ross had never been to Hannah’s birthday, never even been to her house. Hannah swallowed the fear that the popular girl wouldn’t show, but she couldn’t deny that her birthday would be ruined without Lauren’s attendance.