standing,” Alex said, “but the officials inside have as much power as a McDonald’s branch manager does over the menu.”
Jane slipped her hand from Alex’s. She wanted an intervention. This was
her
night.
“I’ve brought gifts from the city,” Joseph said in a boisterous tone he’d pulled from his quiver of voices. He broughtout the cloth bag he’d stored beneath the bench. “A new tequila from a Mexican fair-trade collective. And a Russian vodka distilled from the tears of former Politburo clerks.”
Mike went to get fresh glasses, and dinner plates were pushed to the centre of the table as Joseph poured drinks, ignoring Alex’s wounded expression. There’d be time to make it up to him later. Time to talk to Franny. Time to figure out his money problems. But now it was drinking time.
He lifted his shot of tequila and said, “Fellow adults, old friends, visitors from enchanted lands: the children have retired, let us talk freely.”
“Oh God, he’s going to get deep.”
“We’ll finally make it into his column: ‘The Splendours of the Dinner Hour.’ A three-part series.”
“A toast!” Joseph said. “To our fat savings accounts!”
Jane let out the first bitter laugh. Personal debt was their generation’s only taboo topic, but the liquor made them brave.
“To our RRSPS! ” she said.
“To our pensions!” Mike said.
“To juggling ’til I’m eighty!”
Liz wasn’t ready to spit in the face of her real estate career, but she poured everyone another shot. “To my sagging ass!”
“We’d all better stay in shape ’til we’re old,” Alex said. Amber agreed. “Fitness is important.”
“Franny gets my maxed-out gold card.”
“She will, actually,” Alex said.
“They’ll have property,” Liz said.
“They’ll have
mortgages
.” Alex was making a last run up his favourite hill. “If we’re
lucky
our kids will inherita half-paid-off property—which they’ll have to divide between them.”
“Our inherited capital spread ever thinner,” Joseph said, “until the Lord of the Manor asserts first-night privileges on our great-great-granddaughters. But this is more of a hangover conversation.”
Amber’s beaded braids and the distant roar of movie pirates dispatching foes with corny tag lines smoothed the silence but not the sight of Alex’s flushed, hurt face.
“When we’re old and poor we can share Julian’s beautiful teeth.”
Julian high-fived Joseph.
“Shit, man!”
“I know!”
“I can’t believe we’re all here!” Liz said.
Jane cackled. “Oh God, remember the football team?”
Of course—a girl fell for Julian at a house party. Turned out she was the quarterback’s girlfriend. Team spirit came in the form of the offensive line chasing Julian into the ravine.
“I thought I’d have to sleep down there. Wouldn’t have been the first time.” Julian’s big smile pinched the creases around his eyes into agreeable bunches. “Those boys were only doing what they thought was right.”
“Remember Linda Cheever’s party?” Joseph let the name hang in the air. “Liz was only doing what
she
thought was right!”
Big laughter.
“You crashed the party,” Jane said, exaggerating Joseph’s former bravado.
“I was invited.”
“Like hell you were!” She fixed on Joseph an expression he recognized from the old days.
Bring it on
, she was saying.
Bring it on
.
B ecause it was still light out, the flaming logs looked artificial, like a video installation commenting on the cultural practice of building bonfires on summer holidays. Joseph was giggling. They’d gone behind the shed to sample the dope Mike had bought from Derek that afternoon, then dragged the lawn chairs to the unnecessary fire. He wanted to tell Jane the thing about the fire, but his thoughts kept floating away like clouds with pleasing shapes. Where had he heard that before? He was giggling again, because after being away from dope for years he found the giggles and the
Jane slipped her hand from Alex’s. She wanted an intervention. This was
her
night.
“I’ve brought gifts from the city,” Joseph said in a boisterous tone he’d pulled from his quiver of voices. He broughtout the cloth bag he’d stored beneath the bench. “A new tequila from a Mexican fair-trade collective. And a Russian vodka distilled from the tears of former Politburo clerks.”
Mike went to get fresh glasses, and dinner plates were pushed to the centre of the table as Joseph poured drinks, ignoring Alex’s wounded expression. There’d be time to make it up to him later. Time to talk to Franny. Time to figure out his money problems. But now it was drinking time.
He lifted his shot of tequila and said, “Fellow adults, old friends, visitors from enchanted lands: the children have retired, let us talk freely.”
“Oh God, he’s going to get deep.”
“We’ll finally make it into his column: ‘The Splendours of the Dinner Hour.’ A three-part series.”
“A toast!” Joseph said. “To our fat savings accounts!”
Jane let out the first bitter laugh. Personal debt was their generation’s only taboo topic, but the liquor made them brave.
“To our RRSPS! ” she said.
“To our pensions!” Mike said.
“To juggling ’til I’m eighty!”
Liz wasn’t ready to spit in the face of her real estate career, but she poured everyone another shot. “To my sagging ass!”
“We’d all better stay in shape ’til we’re old,” Alex said. Amber agreed. “Fitness is important.”
“Franny gets my maxed-out gold card.”
“She will, actually,” Alex said.
“They’ll have property,” Liz said.
“They’ll have
mortgages
.” Alex was making a last run up his favourite hill. “If we’re
lucky
our kids will inherita half-paid-off property—which they’ll have to divide between them.”
“Our inherited capital spread ever thinner,” Joseph said, “until the Lord of the Manor asserts first-night privileges on our great-great-granddaughters. But this is more of a hangover conversation.”
Amber’s beaded braids and the distant roar of movie pirates dispatching foes with corny tag lines smoothed the silence but not the sight of Alex’s flushed, hurt face.
“When we’re old and poor we can share Julian’s beautiful teeth.”
Julian high-fived Joseph.
“Shit, man!”
“I know!”
“I can’t believe we’re all here!” Liz said.
Jane cackled. “Oh God, remember the football team?”
Of course—a girl fell for Julian at a house party. Turned out she was the quarterback’s girlfriend. Team spirit came in the form of the offensive line chasing Julian into the ravine.
“I thought I’d have to sleep down there. Wouldn’t have been the first time.” Julian’s big smile pinched the creases around his eyes into agreeable bunches. “Those boys were only doing what they thought was right.”
“Remember Linda Cheever’s party?” Joseph let the name hang in the air. “Liz was only doing what
she
thought was right!”
Big laughter.
“You crashed the party,” Jane said, exaggerating Joseph’s former bravado.
“I was invited.”
“Like hell you were!” She fixed on Joseph an expression he recognized from the old days.
Bring it on
, she was saying.
Bring it on
.
B ecause it was still light out, the flaming logs looked artificial, like a video installation commenting on the cultural practice of building bonfires on summer holidays. Joseph was giggling. They’d gone behind the shed to sample the dope Mike had bought from Derek that afternoon, then dragged the lawn chairs to the unnecessary fire. He wanted to tell Jane the thing about the fire, but his thoughts kept floating away like clouds with pleasing shapes. Where had he heard that before? He was giggling again, because after being away from dope for years he found the giggles and the
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