Chapter Two
--Christmas, 1967
The Doors – “People are Strange”
They lived on Dorchester in a house with good bones. In the cape cod style, it was bright white with pale blue shutters and a big wrap-around porch. They had gotten a company to install their Christmas lights, but the house would have glowed with a warm, inviting radiance anyway because of the party going on inside. The Bensons had a living room large enough for entertaining and Janet’s parents were nothing if not known for their parties. For as long as she could remember, people seemed to flock to her family. They came as soon as the sun went down and like a middle school dance, they would break into groups of men and women. They stood in clumps spread out around the house, a cloud of cigarette smoke hanging permanently above their heads. It diffused the light that came from the yellow glass chandelier, throwing a haze over the rest of the room. The wall art and wood paneling, the conversation pit, and the statement stone fireplace with exposed brick were all barely visible.
Janet walked the party in her Stones t-shirt, the one with the tongue, and looked around the living room. There were fur coats by the door and slung over chairs. Already ancient-looking forty-year-olds sat on army-green couches drinking bellinis. Everyone was there; the Armbrusters, the Marshalls, the Saticoys. She even saw some of her friend’s parents. Marcia’s family started Mattel, El’s dad worked for Merck, and the Bienecke’s were the richest cause they came up with S&H green stamps.
Several of the men were huddled around a rattan bar cart and Janet caught sight of her father holding court. William wore a cardigan, absent-mindedly stuffing a pipe as he spoke. It had been a shitty summer, but he was back now. The official story was that he had been at a retreat for exhaustion. Unofficially though, after Sandra had left him, he spent the last few months fishing in the Keys having a breakdown. Here in his element, he seemed okay. He could be incredibly charming when he wanted to be. The movie star hair helped, always in place, always perfectly parted. But although he inspired confidence, there was still something about him that was barely holding together, something broken in the eyes; a caged animal, perhaps, begging to be let out. “The only reason he’s on the Supreme Court is because there was a summer of race riots. That’s it. They’re trying to pacify them!”
“I don’t know about that...” a man in a sweater vest said.
William waved him off, not through. “I’m serious, everywhere they go it’s one handout after another!”
“You mean you’re not curious about that ‘Guess who’s coming to dinner in the heat of the night’ movie?”
William groaned, loudly. “Sidney Poitier! All it takes is one black man enunciating properly and I’m supposed to fork over my hard-earned money? No thank you!”
Janet rolled her eyes. If her father was already onto minorities, it would be a long night. She returned to filching unattended drinks, disguising her behavior by pretending to clean up. As she downed half of a Tom Collins, she found herself cornered by their neighbor, the one with the toupee. He wore plaid, golf pants and an ill-fitting Lacoste shirt with tiny anchors on it. She could see his belly. “There she is! Janet magoo! Where you headed to college, then?”
She put on a polite smile. “Hey, Connerty. Still got two years to figure it out.”
The man could not stop staring at her tits. “Billy then? Where’s he headed?”
“Oh, Bill’s got his sights on UVA--” Janet had already started backing away, clearing a few cups as a get-away strategy.
“A Cavalier, huh? Well, you tell him to come see me before I jet.”
“Will do.” Janet hurried off, grateful for the exit. She passed somebody’s child who had been left sitting a foot away from their large Sylvania console T.V. He was trying hopelessly to watch the Peanuts Christmas special above the roar of the party. Janet waved to the kid and headed through the swinging kitchen door. Throwing down the holiday cups, she headed back to the basement. Upstairs had been a mistake. She’d tell her mother she made the rounds, so what if the drunks couldn’t remember her?
The timing was fortuitous, the Door’s “Whiskey Bar” was starting and as she descended the furnished basement stairs, she pretended it was playing just for her. If her parents were in black and white, then her and friends were in hi-fi technicolor. On the landing, she saw a torn open case of High Life and, a few feet later, her brother, Bill, swaying drunk.
“You know you’re toast if they call you upstairs, right?” she said as she reached him.
He looked at her bleary-eyed through his thin eyebrows and crew-cut hair. “Oh please, they’re blatto! The same thing happens every time these old people get together - they tie one on, rub up against each other, and try to find a spare room to fool around in. Is Connerty still grabbing asses?”
Janet laughed and nodded. “How many times can you say, ‘whoops?!’”
“How about his wife? You get a load of those life preserver tits?”
“You’ve got such a way with words.”
Bill looked past her. “They’re like sharks… if they just keep moving, maybe they won’t die.”
Janet sighed. So, it was going to be one of those nights. Her brother could be so damn morose sometimes. She decided to say nothing, to just placate him. She left him there on the stairs, passing the tiki bar that William had put in even though he never came down there. This, as much as anything, the children took as tacit permission to drink all they wanted.
Nearby, some friends had co-opted the bumper pool table for a game of Anaconda and the kid seated at the head of the game was rambling. “I’m telling you every goddamn show on television right now takes place on some farm or some backwood yokel’s place.” He started listing them off on his hands. “Beverly Hillbillies, Petticoat Junction, Green Acres, Mister Ed! There’s gonna be a rural purge if someone’s not careful. Mark my words, Americans won’t stand for it--”
John Birch, the wild card in the Bermuda shirt and Birkenstocks sitting next to him, couldn’t keep quiet a single moment longer. “I don’t know how you can talk about this when children are being napalmed!”
Those at the table groaned and threw their cards down as J.B. ranted. “You can shut your eyes and block your ears all you want, but now it’s spreading to Cambodia! Anyone who thinks this war’s gonna have a happy ending needs to have their head examined!”
“We just wanted to play a game, J.B!”
“You know who else is playing a game? Lyndon Johnson! He’s playing with all of your futures! But we’re not gonna let him win!”
“We aren’t?”
“Not a chance. His own party doesn’t think he’s gonna win – he’s got McCarthy challenging him for the nomination!”
“The commie hunter?”
J.B. looked at the kid, disgusted. “Not Joseph McCarthy, you gimp! Eugene!”
As Janet passed, she slapped J.B. on the back of the head. He immediately cried out, “assault!” but Janet was long gone. She took a seat on the burnt orange couch next to her sheepskin jacket-wearing boyfriend, Matt Learner. He may have been a year older than her, but he still couldn’t roll joints for shit. She watched as he did a number on the number. In his eyes, it was finished. “Aw, that’s a really nice try--” she said, pityingly.
He laughed at her charity. “Shut up!”
“How do you think I feel? Having a boyfriend who’s special ed?”
“If you’re so talented, let’s see you salvage it!”
“Fine, give it here.” She dumped the grounds on the table and re-straightened the papers. Matt’s problem was he was trying to roll half of Jamaica and by using just a tad less she was able to seal the thing in under thirty seconds.
“Show off...” He mumbled as Janet popped it in her mouth, looking around for a lighter. “Hold up--” He dug around in his jeans until he came out with a matchbook to light her up.
She took a pull and smiled. “Aww! You lit my joint for me!” She leaned in smiling and planted a kiss on his lips. “I’m gonna miss you come spring break...”
Matt sat back against the couch, the mood ruined. “It’s hard keeping up with you and your friends.”
“I told you I’d lend you the money--”
“And I told you to forget it.”
“It’s forgotten...” Janet moved to kiss him again when Bludgeon, the family dog, suddenly tried to leap up onto the couch. “No, get out of here Bludgeon, this joint’s not for you!”
Matt laughed. “You’re so mean to that dog!” Bludgeon was officially Bill’s dog, but he was so cute as a pup that the others took a liking to him. The odd name was Bill’s idea but now they called it that without connecting it to its morbid connotations. In its old age though, the dog had lost its new car shine. Every accident became just an excuse to keep him out of the house, and now he was only let inside for the occasional party.
Janet looked to Bill to wrangle his mutt but saw him standing alone. “Oh, talk to Bill, would ya’ Mattie? I don't want him to feel left out...”
Matt groaned, wanting to get back to necking. “Come on, he’s good...” He watched as Bill took another slug from his private stash. “He's got his... flask. What is he seventy?!”
Janet hit Matt, playfully. “Stop it--"
“--No, I'm serious. I know the teachers like him, but you ever get the idea that he's kind of a fink?”
“Bill is not a fink!”
As Bill drank on the landing of the staircase, his quiet as a church mouse girlfriend, Amy O’Dell, approached him. She was small with big doe eyes and a tiny cross around her neck. “Hey, Billy!” she said.
He barely noticed her standing there. “Hey.”
If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
“You wanna dance?”
“Why? No one else is?”
You could have knocked her over with a feather. “Oh, I didn’t notice...” She shook her head and tried again. “So, your dad’s back, huh?”
This, Bill heard. He stared straight ahead, trying to keep it together. “For now...”
“Have you tried talking to him--”
But before she could finish, Bill did it for her. “Excuse me.” He brushed past her. Amy watched him go, quietly devastated. His eyes had found someone else...
In what seemed to Bill the slowest of motions, Simone Bono descended the basement stairs, stoned and ethereal. She had a faraway look in her eyes like she wasn’t entirely there. Her infinitely long red hair went past her lavender terry cloth shirt, ending halfway down her high waisted hip huggers. Her alabaster skin was the color of someone who bathed in milk. Bill couldn’t say why exactly he could never be with her, but it was obvious from the first moment he laid eyes on her that she wasn’t a woman at all...
She was a shrine to be worshipped.
As she passed, he reached a drunken hand out for her, but she was gone too fast. He thought about how she loved horses, how they were all she talked about. He remembered a conversation she had with his little sister once, where Simone told Lynn that she did western as a kid but now rode bareback. When Bill heard her say those magnificent words, he spent the rest of the afternoon imagining her riding through their neighborhood naked, like Lady Godiva, her pussy slamming into the horse with every gallop. The words were filthy, but in his head, the images were anything but...
Back on the couch, Janet and Matt were too busy making time to notice Janet’s younger sister, Lynn, scramble up next to them. The little blonde with her horribly knotted pigtails started jumping up and down on the couch cushions, scuffing them up with her sneakers, chanting “Frenchers, frenchers, frenchers!”
Janet broke the kiss off annoyed, wiping spit from the corner of her mouth. “Lynn, do you mind?!”
Her baby sister stopped jumping just long enough to say “nope” then went right back to what she was doing.
Janet noticed a familiar yellow broach in her sister’s hair. “Is that my hair clip, you little worm?!”
Lynn blanched. “No.” She quickly yanked it from her head, yelping when she snapped some hair loose.
Janet grinned when she saw this. “Something wrong, Lynn?”
Lynn shook her head, in obvious pain. “Not at all.”
Smiling, Matt leaned over to whisper something to Janet. Lynn immediately inquired. “What did he say?! I won’t tell on you guys for kissing if you just let me in on it!”
“Go ahead and tell Mom, she’ll just ask you why you aren’t in bed already.”
Lynn became deathly serious. “No, I’m sorry, I’ll be good!”
“You’ll stop spying on us?!”
She nodded vigorously as Janet’s best friend, Maggie Birch, wandered over, drunk. The girl had big hoop earrings on and even bigger hair. She leaned over them, bra-less, in a velvet jumpsuit secured with a leather belt. Janet was used to Maggie dressing in the extreme, but this was overdoing it even for her. “Janet, you were so good in the play--” she said, nearly spilling her drink.
Matt cackled, overjoyed. “See! I told you, you were good!”
Janet clamped her hands over her ears blocking out any reminders of her time on stage. Seeing it was fruitless trying to compliment her, Maggie turned to Matt. “And Matty, I’m sorry, I heard about spring break, they’ll be other trips you can take with us.”
Matt angrily pulled Janet’s hands down. “Just tell the world why don’t you!”
“I didn’t say it was about money!” Janet hissed under her breath.
“I’m actually gonna be busy that week--” Matt began.
Janet cut him off, proudly. “--he’s doing a physics paper for Dr. Marlowe for extra credit.”
Matt became bashful. “They don’t wanna hear about that...”
“Are you ashamed?”
“No, just... I’m sure it’s boring to them...”
Janet smiled. She loved putting him on the spot. He was cute when he squirmed. “You know, you remind me of someone.”
“Oh yeah? Who’s that?”
“Somebody I met over the summer.”
Matt arched an eyebrow. “Should I be jealous?”
She shook her head after a time. Before she could answer though, Maggie cut in. “Hey Jan, is your brother here?”
“Yeah, Bill’s right over there.”
“No, not Bill – Nicky!”
“Ew Mags, he’s like eleven!”
“Oh, he is going to be so handsome when he gets older...”
Janet retched. “Somebody gag me with a spoon.”
**
Upstairs, while the adults mingled, a plucky twelve-year-old named Nick, rose from behind the living room couch where he was hiding. He wore an Indian headdress and held a toy revolver in each hand. Spotting an unattended purse, he holstered his weapons. Looking this way and that to make sure the coast was clear, he quickly made his move, fishing some bills from it. He was on his way upstairs with his winnings, when he passed Eileen Connerty, wearing a fashionable turban. She waggled her fingers at him. “Hi, Nicky!” But Nick was in too big a hurry. He sidestepped her and ran up the floating stairs.
In the avocado green kitchen, Cody Renna entered through the back door, his arms filled with groceries. He had bushy sideburns and a wilted afro atop his head and was dressed unseasonably in Jesus sandals and a baja hoodie. “Hey Mr. Benson, I got those supplies you asked for...”
He handed over the grocery bag, which William noticed was a little light. “Couple beers missing here...”
Cody feigned confusion. “Are they? You know, I’m gonna have to have a word with those jag-offs down at King’s...”
William nodded, skeptically, only then spotting the plus-one Cody had brought in with him: a shirtless, leather jacket wearing biker. Cody explained, “Oh, this is Glen Tonche, Mr. Benson.”
“I see. He’s not wearing a shirt...”
“Nothing gets past you, sir!” Glen Tonche leaned in for a sophisticated handshake that William just barely kept up with. “Thank you for allowing me in your home Mr. B!”
William didn’t quite know what to make of the boy but did what he always did when confused: he introduced his wife. “Say hi to Sandra.” He motioned over his shoulder back into the living room where Sandra Benson, whacked out on Depakote, was eagerly in the middle of telling a story to a bunch of ladies in bouffants and beehives. Her own hair was tightly-coiffed, a dense collection of curls.
“Hi, Mrs. Benson!” Cody called out over the din of the party.
Sandra brightened when she saw him. “Hello, Cody Darling!” She moved to wave at him but leaned a little too far forward and the arm of the couch had to catch her. She merrily wiped spilled white wine off her sleeve and turned back to the other women. “I mean the woman was wearing Shalimar in October, for Christ sakes!” Her raucous laughter filled the room, making up for anyone who wasn’t laughing.
One of the women, who had a sort of Connecticut-ty brogue, smiled amenably. “Corker of a yarn, Sandy. Say where do you summer?”
Sandra wearily rattled off a list of names as the party swam in and out of focus. “Oh, we never know until we know. Could be renting a house in Spring Lake, driving up to Kennebunkport or Lake George…” The Depakote was currently at war with the Dexedrine sulfate she took to curb her appetite and she flitted from conversation to conversation without warning. “Why isn’t anyone eating this?!” Sandra demanded, motioning to a fondue pot that nobody was touching.
Having put the groceries away, William returned from the kitchen. When he saw the sloppy way Sandra was acting, he leaned over to whisper to her, couching it in a loving embrace. “Maybe switch to soda water, hun?”
Sandra smiled to show that there was no bad blood, then told him to fuck off. William stood back up, a sour look on his face. Fortunately, one of the other dad’s saved him from having to think about it for too long. “’Nother one, Bill?” a man in a captain’s hat asked.
William nodded. “Sure, I’ll take a snort.”
**
Nick put his ill-gotten gains in his bureau drawer just as Maggie arrived in his doorframe. She stretched there, languorously like a cat, before speaking up. “Cool room...”
Nick started. He immediately closed the drawer and turned to face her, nervous that she’d seen the money. “Hey, Mags.”
She took a few exploratory steps into the room before giving one of his beanbag chairs a kick. “Yeah, I’ve been meaning to get rid of those.” Nick said, feeling childish.
“Are you kidding? I love beanbag chairs – I lost my virginity on one!” Nick blushed, high on his cheeks. Maggie didn’t seem to notice. She was busy sizing up the room. “Is that a Prisoner poster?”
“It is... are you a fan?”
“Hell yeah, Patrick McGoohan’s a babe.” Nick smiled, glad he could do something right. He didn’t notice the long, circuitous route she was taking towards him. When she finally turned to face him, she was barely two feet away. Before Nick could even think to be nervous, Maggie plucked her chewing gum from her mouth and stuck it behind her ear so she could make out with him, unimpeded. She planted a sloppy kiss on Nick. He took it without closing his eyes. When she was finally done with him, Maggie pulled back. “Thanks, Nick,” she said, wiping a little spittle from his chin. She left him alone with his thoughts.
**
By now, the party upstairs was so tightly packed that William Benson turned from the bar with his Glenlivet rocks only to find himself pushed together with Eileen Connerty. She had a hefty beauty mark and alcohol on her lips. “There he is!” she intoned.
“Here I am!” William agreed.
“It’s good to have you back, Will. Wasn’t the same without you. God how I miss summer: the kids away at summer camp, my husband working... you mowing the lawn with your shirt off...” She pressed her silk, ruffled blouse against him.
William smiled. He moved to take her glass. “I think you've had a bit too much to drink, Eileen.”
“Oh? Well, I tried to stop, but it's just so hard...” She ran her hand lightly over his crotch. “My, what a big boy you are.”
William sighed, shaking his head.
“I couldn't help but notice you're not moving my hand away...”
“Well, I don't want to be rude--”
“William, we need to talk.” As his father-in-law came barreling over, William pulled himself loose from Eileen. By the look on Magnus’s face, it was unclear if he saw or not.
“Sure thing, old sport.” He called Magnus old sport after something he’d read in Gatsby. The man was richer than anyone he knew. Anything William could do to cut him down a peg or two was preferable, seeing as he was nearly 6’7” and still had much of the muscle tone of his youth, even if he moved much slower nowadays.
“I see you’re back.” Magnus said. “Is this for good?”
“I think that’s between me and my family.”
“Sandy’d never tell you this but she had a damn hard time of it while you were gone.”
“Hey, I sent checks--”
“No, I sent checks. If it was up to me, I’d have booted your ass a long time ago--”
“Good thing it’s not up to you.”
“Goddamnit Will, you don’t know what you being gone did to her!” Magnus leaned in, so as not to be overheard. “How deadly thin she became... how she cried every night...”
This last part was news to William, but he tried to pretend it wasn’t. “What do you want from me, Magnus? I’m back now.”
Sandra’s father shook his head. “Just more of your bullshit...” he scoffed. “I don’t know why I’m surprised. Like father, like son...”
“The hell are you talking about?”
“You know I worked with your father, right?” When William said nothing, Magnus continued. “Yeah, and I remember you too. You were such an eager to please little gopher...” He let a smile bloom on his face. “I was there the day he jumped.”
William unconsciously found himself making a fist. “Get to it, old sport...”
“You may be back now, but I know you. You’ll bolt for the door the second it suits you. You have the same kind of low character that he did. And I’ll tell you the same thing I told you when you asked for her hand – you aren’t worth the clothes on your back.”
Magnus pushed his way out of the dense crowd. William watched his father-in-law go, realizing that to somepeople once you were poor, you were always poor.
**
Downstairs, Janet and Matt were necking on the couch when a passing freshman tripped, spilling beer down Janet’s back. “What the fuck?!” she shrieked.
Before she knew it, Matt was on his feet, the guy’s shirtfront clenched in his fist ready to punch him. The freshman wailed, “--heyyyy, what’s your bag, man!”
“What’s my bag?! You’re about to be number one on the hit parade, that’s my bag--”
Janet pulled her boyfriend back at the last second. “Whoa!” she said, trying to diffuse the situation. As the offender staggered away, she turned back to Matt. “You were gonna kill that guy!”
Matt shook the adrenalin off. “Yeah, well... I can’t promise I’ll win, but I’ll always stick up for you.”
Janet smiled, despite herself. She held her shirt away from her body. “I’m gonna go dry this out...”
Matt nodded, “Yeah, that’s probably a good idea.” He added, sheepishly, “Sorry.”
“It’s okay.” Janet climbed over the couch and headed for the bathroom.
Once she was inside, Cody and Glen Tonche descended the basement stairs. Halfway down, Cody proudly announced, “Hey everybody, the Falcon is here!” He clapped Glen Tonche on the back as a nameless partygoer wondered aloud why he was called the Falcon.
Glen turned to the fella and explained simply: “Because I eat chicks.”
Janet walked out of the bathroom, blotting her shirt with a wad of toilet paper. When she looked up, she saw the Falcon. Later, she would recall that he resembled Robert Plant in his “Song Remains the Same” sex-god phase: his hair, flowing and curly; a visible bulge in the jeans; an outie belly-button. Janet locked eyes with him and he nodded towards her.
It was that simple.
Breaking the spell, Janet hurried over to Matt, pulling him by the t-shirt until he followed her over the couch towards the back bedroom.
“I thought you were gonna dry your shirt?” he said.
“I am, but first I need you to help me out of these wet clothes...”
He didn’t need to be asked twice. As they disappeared into the back room, Glen Tonche yelled angrily to whoever was dee-jaying, “would it kill you to play some fucking Cream?!”
As the music switched off, the door at the top of the basement stairs was kicked open and Maggie paraded down wearing several of William’s ties and one of his trench coats. She called out: “I’m throwing an old people party! Who’s gonna be the Harriet to my Ozzie?!”
The party cheered.
In the back bedroom, Janet scrambled onto the guest bed, quickly pulling her Stones t-shirt off and helping Matt with his belt--