Read Online Menage by Alix Kates Shulman - Free Book Online Page B

you, Zoltan?”
    â€œThat is somewhat early.”
    â€œWe’ll be the ones waking him,” said Heather.
    â€œNo, no. Nothing will disturb me.”
    Chloe watched Zoltan tear his bread into little bits, roll them into balls and pop them into his mouth, leaving a residue of crumbs on the cloth. The way he held his fork upside down in the wrong hand and pushed his food onto it with his knife, then washed it down with swallows of wine—violations for which she and Jamie would be corrected—kept her own jaw slack and her mouth empty.
    Unable to attract attention by foot, Jamie decided to see how many noodles he could pile onto his fork before the candle dripped onto the tablecloth.
Ready, get set, go
, he buzzed softly to himself, and at
go
began racing.
    â€œJamie!” whispered his mother. “Please, honey. Finish up nicely and you can help me serve the salad.”
    â€œWe’ve discussed the whole arrangement,” continued Mack. “One more person in a house this size will hardly make any difference. Heather sees to the meals anyway, with or without you.”
    â€œThat’s true,” said Heather with a certain pride, starting the fettuccini around again.
    â€œHeather is a remarkable woman,” said Mack.
    â€œYes, I can see that already,” agreed Zoltan.
    â€œI don’t know how she does it all.”
    Self-conscious, Heather stood up. “Would anyone like more lamb? Maybe you should carve some more?”
    â€œNot for me, thank you,” said Zoltan, “though very delicious.”
    â€œYou see? Didn’t I tell you?” beamed Mack.
    â€œPlease, Mack. Enough!” said Heather, heading toward the kitchen. She never knew how to respond to Mack’s pimpy speeches, which felt demeaning, like being complimented on your makeup, and seemed to reflect more credit on him than on her. Why this was so was not clear; she knew only that when she tried to speak to him about it, he claimed not to know what she was talking about. He would accuse her of being hypersensitive or ungrateful or difficult to please, and she would back down. Nevertheless, in the presence of others he frequently embarrassed her.
    â€œShe’s just being modest,” said Mack when she was gone. “But you’ll see for yourself.” He started to clear the table.
    â€œI see already. I congratulate you, Mack. She is quite a number, your wife,” said Zoltan, affecting to rise.
    â€œNo, sit still. We’ve got a system.”
    While Mack carried out the platter, Heather returned from the kitchen with the salad bowl intime to catch Zoltan’s last remark. “Ready to help me with the salad, Jamie?” she asked brightly, pretending not to have heard.
    â€œWhy Jamie?” asked outraged Chloe. “What about me?”
    â€œBut sweetheart, you still have to eat. Finish either your meat or your noodles and I’ll let you help me serve dessert, okay? Want me to help cut it up?”
    Chloe shook her head. The guest, she noticed, hadn’t finished his food, either. At last she began discreetly crumbing her bread on the tablecloth.
    Heather dished assorted leaves onto blue-and-white china plates. “Guest first,” she whispered, handing a plate to Jamie. Jamie noticed for the hundredth time the two birds hovering above a bridge in the china pattern and wondered why they never landed. With two hands he carried the plate slowly around the table. He stopped beside Zoltan and stood waiting to be relieved of his burden, but Zoltan, energetically reducing a second piece of bread to crumbs and speaking in what sounded to Jamie like a foreign tongue, failed to notice him. While he waited, Jamie studied the bearded jaw bobbing up and down, like the jaw of a steam shovel, until, transported, Jamie began to growl softly from deep in his throat, imitating a motor and after a bit adding a soft high screech ofa shovel, loaded, turning on its swivel. Only