Ann stood on the porch and watched Michael work. She’d only seen him this focused when he ran—he had a sort of zen concentration she admired. He cut the grass in a perfect diamond pattern, cleaned up every clipping, and snipped away all the stray grass that grew around the base of the trees. Maureen joined her on the deck and offered her a glass of water with a wedge of lime hanging off the rim. “Anthony thinks your brother isn’t bad. High praise coming from him. You’ve probably noticed that my husband isn’t easily pleased,” Maureen said. “It drives me crazy sometimes, but that’s why he’s so successful at running the business.”
What was this “business” Maureen referred to? She liked to imagine they worked on something really important and interesting, like a blood test that could detect cancer, or a computer chip, or some dot-com business like GeoCities.
Maureen took a drink out of her own glass. “Tony says ‘Jump’ and his workers say ‘How high?’ He’s really got a remarkable gift for leadership, for encouraging people to do well. Of course, like any of us, he has his vices.” Maureen’s voice trailed off.
Vices? Ann wanted to know more; she was dying to get inside their marriage, figure him out.
“Your brother is a sweetheart,” Maureen said, gesturing for her to join her at the bistro table. “I think it’s wonderful what your family has done for him. It’s gotten me thinking that maybe we should look into adopting a needy child. We tried to have a third, you know. I wanted a daughter, someone I could talk to the way I talk to you.” She pressed her hand on Ann’s knee and smiled. Her fingers felt long and cold and hard, like the chilled shrimp she’d left on the kitchen counter for guests earlier that day. “Then I had female problems. Cysts, fibroids.”
Oh God, no. No! Ann wished she could put her fingers in her ears. She didn’t want to hear this, didn’t want to know, didn’t want to be Maureen’s female friend. Her gal. Especially since she’d been daydreaming about Anthony.
“I have this theory,” Maureen said, “that women should be born with zippers, and once we’re done having babies we should just unzip ourselves and get rid of all that stuff we don’t need anymore.”
“That would be cool,” Ann said. She stood up. “I should go check on the boys.”
“Look at them, they’re fine.” Maureen pointed at the patio doors that opened to the family room. Through the glass, Ann could see the boys sitting on the couch, absorbed in whatever it was they were watching on the television. “There are so many children who need homes. I was thinking we could adopt a child from Nicaragua or Vietnam, but then again there are children just like Michael right here in our own backyard.” She looked out at the rich green landscape and conveniently saw Michael bent over a pile of cedar chips. “Everything is so out of balance in this world. I mean, look at me, here in this huge house. Your family has really gotten me thinking about my own family, Ann. About how we can be better, do more.”
We. That word sounded funny to Ann.
“Do you know,” Maureen said, “that I sent a note to your mother and father telling them what lovely young people they are raising?”
Oh God, now she was sending notes to her parents?
“Your upbringing seems so simple. So good. I’m jealous of you Gordons, all of you. So wholesome, like a television family.”
Ann thought of her dad’s bong hidden in the linen closet, the way he swore like a sailor, her mother’s stash of Valium, the way she felt when she’d barged into Michael’s basement bedroom back home and caught a glimpse of him without his clothes on, and the secret, forbidden fantasies that moment had produced. “We’re just like anyone.”
“No, no. That’s not true. I hope Toby and Brooks turn out to be half the young people you and Michael are. Tony thinks it’s because you’re from the Midwest.”
She thought it was both shameful and exciting that there was so much that Maureen didn’t know. The other day, while Maureen was out, she was cleaning up after the boys in the family room. When she looked up, she saw Anthony in the hallway, watching her. He was headed to the beach, and wore just his swim trunks and a towel around his neck. She stood up straight, blushed, and pulled her shirt down, because it had slid up while she was bent over to pick up the LEGOs. “You have great legs,” he’d said.
“You’re so dear,” Maureen said.
Their conversation made Ann feel like she’d entered into the kind of fake friendship that she had with some of the girls at her high school. Maureen tucked her wild burnt hair behind her ears. It was hot and still. Her forehead and nose were beginning to glisten with sweat. She shook her head, as if to shake an unwelcome thought out of it. “You have such a nice family, which is why I feel so terrible asking you to spend more time away from them. But I’ll be busy the next two weeks. Shhhh!” She put her finger to her lips and winked. “I’m taking an acting class in Provincetown, isn’t that something? Please don’t breathe a word about it to Tony. He thinks actors are kooks. Despite his flair for drama, he has zero appreciation for the stage. And next Saturday we have an oyster party to go to. Could you—”
“Sure,” Ann said. She knew her parents would be upset if she missed out on another weekend with them. “You’re more of a nanny than a babysitter with those hours,” her father had said. “We don’t haul ass halfway across the country so you can spend time with someone else’s family.” But with Anthony around, the Shaws’ house was a lot less boring. His presence was as intimidating as it was enticing. Her memories of that afternoon in the bedroom were on autoloop and took on a fantasy life of their own.