Chapter Nine

--December, 1968

Van Morrison – “The Way Young Lovers Do”

One afternoon after Christmas shopping, the Benson’s Cadillac came up the stone drive and the family piled out, bustling into the house with groceries. Bill slowly made his way out of the car. He took his time, holding his hands out defensively in front of him.

Inside the kitchen, Sandra opened the liquor cabinet to restock it, remarking to William, “We must have gone through nearly three bottles of rye since the last party we had, but for the life of me I can’t remember any of us drinking it...”

William shrugged and headed back out to grab the last grocery bag. On his way inside, he passed Bill who was moving at a glacial pace. Closing the door behind him, William accidentally locked his oldest out.

Bill knocked, but by then the family was in another room. He saw them down the hall around the Christmas Tree, too far away to hear his delicate pounding. He tried again, but they were all smiling, unaware that anyone was missing. Bill knew in his heart that they only had time for happy people anyway.

Bill hurried across the backyard, past Bludgeon’s doghouse, towards the tool shed. Like Bludgeon, he was to be kept outdoors, an untamed beast not suitable for the house. Inside the shed, he paced back and forth, upset and breathing heavily. When he calmed some, he reached behind a cabinet and came out with a dusty, cobwebbed bottle, spoils of one of his parent’s parties. He looked around to make sure he was clear, then downed it fast.

**

That night, shoes in hand, Janet closed her bedroom door and crept down the upstairs hallway to a nearby window. She knew every creaking floorboard in the house, knew the ones to avoid if she didn't want to be heard. With a deep breath, she eased the window open and slid out onto the roof.

Downstairs, her father was watching “Star Trek” in the den by himself, the sound, as usual, at a deafening level. He was sitting in his Eames lounge chair, his hand with a lit cigarette in it, hovering over a sterling silver side table ashtray.

On screen, the Captain had a black woman in his arms. He looked like he was being forced to kiss her. When William realized what was happening, he grimaced.

Behind him, Bill staggered in from the kitchen, still drunk from the afternoon. He took a minute to get himself together, then coughed to be heard. “Dad?” he asked.

William didn’t hear him, so Bill tried again. “Dad, I wanted to talk to you...”

By the side window, Janet dangled from the gutters. She hung there for a moment before dropping. Getting to her feet, she wiped dirt from the back of her pants then looked around to see if she was spotted.

Through the den window, she spied Bill trying uselessly to get their father’s attention. She shook her head and ran to an idling Camaro around the block. It took off into the night.

Bill tried to make himself heard over his father’s television. “I wish I was a better son,”

he finally eked out.

William craned to get a look at his firstborn. “What is this nonsense?” Bill seemed to be swaying on the spot. His father smelled the air between them. “Have you been drinking?”

Bill tried to answer but stumbled his next couple words. William waved him off. “We’ll talk about this later. Go to bed. We won’t be telling your mother about this.” Sandra had taken a pill and gone to bed early.

Bill nodded, accepting his fate. He turned to leave and only then seemed to find something to say. “At least I go to bed when I’m told…”

William watched his son go, thinking about what Bill had said. Getting up, he headed into the kitchen, leaning into the fridge as Lynn, in a floral pair of footie-pajamas, came down the stairs. “Daddy, where’s Janet?” She smelled like Jean Nate after bath splash.

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

“What, sweetie?”

“I wanted to sleep in Janet’s bed, but she’s not there.”

“Of course, she’s in her bed - where else would she be?”

**

Across town, Glen Tonche showed Janet his parent’s house. It was a brown and crème Tudor revival with an expansive lawn and fountain out front. It was well-appointed, but cavernous. “This is it...” he said, his voice echoing off the walls. He led her into the white carpeted living room where there was a Steinway in the corner for entertaining.

“I like it.” Janet smiled.

Glen wore a buckskin vest with fringe and Cuban heels. He took a cocky step towards her. “I like you.”

Janet grinned. She kneeled on the couch to get closer to him. They kissed with tongue and when it was over, Janet appeared so overjoyed she had to catch her breath.

“You’re sweet, little girl.”

Janet frowned, mock hurt. “Little girl? Come here...” She pulled him down to her and gave him a hickey on his neck. “There,” she said. “You're mine now. You carry my mark.”

“What’s your quarterback gonna think of this?”

“He’s a mid-fielder. He plays lacrosse. And he’s not gonna know about this.”

Glen nodded, placating her. “Yeah, sure…”

Janet picked his head up off her chest. “Hey, do you hear me? Never. Okay?”

Glen thought about it for just over a second. “Whatever you say, doll…”

**

Tiptoeing through the back door hours later, Janet was almost up the stairs when her father spoke. “Before you go to sleep...” he said, turning on the lights to see her better. “Maybe you could tell your father where you’ve been?”

Janet remained frozen. “The, uh... nun convention?”

He rose slowly from the chair he’d been sitting in, smoking cigarettes. “Oh, you’ll wish you were a nun when this is over.”

“Dad, I can explain--”

“Oh, I’m sure you could! Not even a call, Janet? Your brother would have called--”

“My brother has no life!”

“And yet, he’s not the one in trouble!” As her father started screaming about how much of a disappointment she was, Janet noticed the oddest thing. Some ways behind William, there stood her older brother. He was dancing, drunkenly celebrating her grounding. Janet would have laughed, if it wasn’t so devastating...

“Why would you tell him, Billy?” she asked over her father’s tirade.

Bill stopped dancing for just long enough. “He was gonna find out sooner or later!”

When her father finally stopped yelling and her punishment had been handed down, Janet was banished to her bedroom. As the door closed behind her, she threw herself down onto her bed. What had started as such a promising night had ended in betrayal. She was just about to go to bed when there came a familiar knock at her window. She started briefly, only to discover it was Matt Learner. He had climbed up the rose trellis to her bedroom. Janet slid the window open. “What do you want, Mattie – I just got in trouble.”

Matt smiled adoringly at her. She could tell he was drunk, but in a charming way. Not depressed like her brother.

“Isn’t this romantic?” he said, his eyes bleary. “I keep thinking of “Bookends” by Simon & Garfunkel.”

When Janet laughed, Matt took it as a good sign. “I just wanted to tell you I’m going to be a big deal someday.”

“Oh, yeah?” Janet leaned in her window frame and let him talk.

“You know that house on Hobart Ave? I’m gonna buy that for you...”

She smiled until she noticed movement behind him on the front lawn. Matt watched the pall that overcame her face as her eyes darted past him. “What’s wrong? You seem distracted…” It was her father going out to smoke a cigarette. She shooed Matt away and slammed her window shut.

Matt sat crouched on the tiny ledge, unsure of what to do, until a tiny voice whispered, “over here!” Matt turned to see Janet’s sister, Lynn, two windows down, waving him over. It seemed weird, but he was out of options. He hurried across the roof and ducked into her bedroom.

Once he was safely inside, Lynn closed the window and shut her blinds, adding “if he’s having his outdoor cigarette then he’s going to bed soon. You can sneak out then.”

“Thanks, Lynn.”

“No problem. Just, next time, tell me in advance so we can plan it better.”

Matt laughed. What a funny kid...

He looked about her pink room. It was perhaps the neatest room Matt had ever seen. There was an entire wall of stuffed animals arranged by size. Raggedy Ann & Andy figured prominently. Opposite them, Lynn had a crafting desk with an orange dymo label maker that she labeled all her possessions with, a Sears catalogue Christmas wish book, and a shelf full of Nancy Drew mysteries. Matt’s eyes landed on a trunk that was half in and half out of her closet. “What’s that,” he asked.

Lynn was only too happy to answer. She flicked her desk lamp on and cleared a couple skirts he recognized as belonging to Janet, off the top of it. “It’s my hope chest. It has everything for when I get married and have a house.” She showed him her picture book with cut out photos from bridal magazines. “Did you see the President’s daughter got married? I want a big wedding like that...”

Matt nodded, marveling at the detail of it all. “You’ve really put a lot of thought into this...” He flipped through the pages, kind of impressed.

Lynn watched him, intently. His interest wasn’t faked. He wasn’t just being nice. Which made her want to tell him the truth...

“You know... she was out tonight.”

Matt nodded, his face betraying nothing. “Does she do that a lot?”

Lynn shook her head, adamantly, and Matt seemed to calm. “Thanks for telling me that, Lynn. None of my other friends did.”