The News of the World (19 page)

“He's a good kid,” Mr. Van Vliet said. “You did something right, something special to have such a good kid.”

Glenna tried to sip the wine, but it tasted all wrong and she placed the cup on the end table.

Mr. Van Vliet smiled at her and said, “I'm sorry.”

“No, it's fine wine, really. I'm just not sure if I have the discipline to study, to …”

“French can be a drag,” he interrupted her. “Thank you for coming. I'm glad to see you, but you don't need French. You don't need a French tutor. You've got great kids.”

Three days later, Glenna went to McDonalds. She parked next to the building where she could see Jim through the window. He was the tallest of the counter help. She saw him nodding amiably at the customers as he took their orders. She saw him flip the pencil and catch it and slip it behind his ear. Glenna sat in her car for twenty minutes watching the two little girls behind the counter with Jim smile and laugh and flirt with him. One took his nametag and pinned it on her shirt. Glenna put her hand to her face and felt herself smile. She turned off the radio and drove home.

LANCE
planned a party. “It's what we need for these winter blues,” he said to her.

“I haven't got the winter blues.”

“Well, say I do. Come on. Let's have some people over.”

MARK
and Jim served the party. Lance and Glenna invited everybody they knew from work, the neighborhood, parents of their sons' friends.

“You boys look nice,” Glenna said to her sons. They stood in the kitchen in their church pants and red vests. She reached and adjusted Jim's tie. “It's hard to get it straight because it's so narrow,” she said.

“Want me to wear a tie, Mom?” Mark asked.

“No, I don't,” she said, putting her hands on his shoulders. “I never want you to wear a tie.” She looked closely at his face. “How old are you?”

“Eleven,” he said.

“Going on five,” Jim said, smiling.

“You boys know to serve …”

“From the left, Mom. Don't worry. Your family will not embarrass you.”

AN
hour later, the house was full. The Weymans. Robb Van Vliet came with Maria Del Prete, a Spanish teacher at East. Mimi arrived without Don.

“Mimi!” Glenna greeted her friend.

“Ah, the status quo in action. How's the party?”

“Fair. Nobody's stoned yet. Where's Don?”

“Dull Don will not be here.”

Jim appeared at Mimi's left shoulder with a tray of shrimp. “From the left, properly, comes the shrimp. Madam, care for any?” he said.

“Hi, Jim,” Mimi said. “None for me. I married one.”

“Tut-tut,” Jim said. “Your mouth! The way you talk.” He moved away.

“He's so grown up,” she said to Glenna.

Glenna looked at her friend, and without really thinking said, “We all are.” The words seemed tangible in the air. Across the room she saw Mark hand Mrs. Weyman a glass of wine. For the first time she saw that he had the same fine shoulder-back posture as Lance, and then Lance was at her side, his arm around her.

“No drugs, ladies. There are children present.” He kissed Glenna on the cheek.

Mimi made a little face. “I need a martini,” she said moving away.

The party swelled into all the main floor rooms, shifted, and then sometime after midnight settled back into the living room where Lance was restoking the fire.

Robb Van Vliet and his companion, Maria Del Prete, had hooked up with Mrs. Weyman and Glenna, and they sipped brandy and laughed like old friends as Mrs. Weyman told stories about disastrous faculty parties at the University. Her tales wove back through the fifties and she told them each as little histories that held her listeners rapt. Glenna found herself again conscious of a kind of happiness, and she pressed her fingers to her lips as she smiled. It felt so good to laugh. When Mrs. Weyman finished the episode of “The Department Chairman and the Ice Bucket,” Maria Del Prete said, “We don't have anything like that at our Christmas potlucks.”

“This wicked woman is telling tales out of school,” Mr. Weyman said. He had come up behind his wife's chair. “Don't deny it. I can tell by the scandalized look on everyone's face.”

“I haven't started on you, dear. Don't worry.”

Moments later, Robb Van Vliet rose and Maria Del Prete joined him. He told Glenna, “It's not too late to sign up for Spanish.” He quickly held up his hand and said, “Just kidding. Thanks for the party. It was fun. You have nice friends.”

GLENNA
and Lance walked their last guests, the Weymans, home. “It's the first time we've been the last to leave a party in thirty years,” Jack Weyman said.

“And it was a ball,” Virginia said. The four of them stood in the street in front of the Weymans' in their coats talking for almost half an hour. Finally, Jack Weyman shook Lance's hand and Glenna gave Virginia a quick hug.

“We're going to San Diego Thursday,” Jack Weyman said. “For a month. See if you can't get down for a long weekend. It's been a tough winter, and we'd love to have you.”

Walking back, Glenna took Lance's arm. “That was fun. It
was
a ball. A good party.”

“The Weymans are interesting people.” Lance said.

“I want to see more of them.”

“Really?”

“What do you mean,
really!
”

“They don't seem your …”

“They are!” Glenna said. “Call him tomorrow and tell him we'll come down in a week or two.”

When they arrived home, Lance and Glenna found the boys doing dishes. “Wrong house,” Lance said. “We've got the wrong house, Glen.”

“Thanks, boys,” she said. “Good work at the party. I don't know what I'd do without you.” She walked to the patio door, still in her coat and went out into the backyard. Lance joined the boys in the dish assembly line. “She meant that, guys.”

“Is she feeling better?” Mark asked.

“Check it out,” Jim said, pointing a soapy cup out the kitchen window. There Glenna sat on the edge of the deck with her arm around Tyler. Tyler had his head on her shoulder. Her fur coat made it look like two dogs breathing into the icy night.

“It's a good sign,” Mark said. “But I'm not convinced until she starts wearing her bra around the house. I'd like to bring some friends over again one of these years.”

Portions of this book have appeared, sometimes in slightly different form, in the following: “The Governor's Ball” in
TriQuarterly,
a publication of Northwestern University; “The H Street Sledding Record” and “Blood” in
McCall's
; “The Time I Died” and “Max” in
Carolina Quarterly
; “Phenomena” in Writer's Forum; “Bigfoot Stole My Wife” in
Quarterly West
; “The Uses of Videotape” in
New Mexico Humanities Review
; “The Status Quo” and “Half Life” in NetWork; “Life Before Science” in
Fiction Network.

Grateful acknowledgment is made to Folkways Music to reprint lyrics from © “The Lion Sleeps Tonight” (Mbube) (Wimoweh), new lyric and revised music by Hugo Peretti, Luigi Creatore, George Weiss and Albert Stanton. Based on a song by Solomon Linda and Paul Campbell. TRO Folkways Music Publishers, Inc. BMI.

Ron Carlson was born and raised in Utah. He taught and coached at The Hotchkiss School in Connecticut while writing his two previous books,
Betrayed by F. Scott Fitzgerald
and
Truants.
More recently, Mr. Carlson has made his home in Salt Lake City, serving as an artist-in-schools in Utah, Idaho, and Alaska. He is now writer-in-residence at Arizona State University and lives in Tempe with his wife and two sons and the good dog Max.

ALSO BY RON CARLSON

Betrayed by F. Scott Fitzgerald
Truants

Copyright
©
1987 by Ron Carlson

All rights reserved.

Published simultaneously in Canada by Penguin Books Canada Ltd, 2801 John Street, Markham, Ontario L3R 1B4

First Edition