there?” she asks him.
“Oh, fair to middling.”
“Yeah?” Meaning she wants to hear more.
“I’ve been in school so long.”
“Garvey.”
“I’m just saying. I was in boarding school for four years before this. Everyone else runs around like they’ve been let out of a cage, and I feel like it’s just another cage. A less interesting cage, actually.”
“Three and a half more years. That’s all. Then it’s over forever.”
“Yeah.” He slumps to the sofa and puts his boots up on the coffee table. Mom doesn’t tell him to take them off. He pulls out a new pack of cigarettes, smashes both ends into his palm a couple of times, unwraps the cellophane, then slides one out and lights it. “Then I get to go out and find my perfect career that will swallow up the rest of my promising life.” He blows out a long streamof smoke. “It all may be quite moot. I wasn’t able to register this week for next semester’s classes. Dad’s a little late on the payments, it turns out.”
My mother sits down on the couch beside him. “You’re joking, right?”
“I am not joking.”
“You need to talk to him about that. Tomorrow.”
Garvey taps the ashes onto his jeans and rubs them in. My mother brings him an ashtray but he doesn’t use it. “I don’t need his money.”
“Garvey, you need this degree.”
“I can pay for it myself. Brian Foley pays his own way. He works in the library I think. I visited him a few weeks ago.”
“UMass only costs three hundred dollars a year. Of course he can work it off. Harvard is several thousand.”
“So I’ll go to UMass. Harvard is a bunch of self-inflated morons. They all walk around in tuxes on the weekend. I’m not kidding. I met this bartender last weekend and he’s starting a moving company, furniture and crap, and he asked me to do some jobs for him. Might have to miss a few classes, but it’s good money.”
“Please talk to your father.”
“No.”
“I’m worried now.”
“I’m worried too.”
My mother gets up and rinses off the plate in the kitchen. She takes her time. Eventually the dishwasher squeaks open and the plate is slotted in. I know there’s nothing else for her to do in there but she stays in there, thinking.
I watch Garvey smoke.
“Dad and Mrs.—I mean
Catherine
—are married now,” I say.
“I heard. A little Nassau combo platter: divorce, wedding, and a nice golden tan for the holidays.”
“Frank’s got your room.”
Garvey snorts. “I’ll have to show him my
Playboy
stash.”
“He already found it.”
“Really? Cagey bugger.”
“He’s weird. “
“With a mother like that.”
“How’s Heidi?”
“Who?”
I give him a look.
“She’s got a new boyfriend. He’s very dependable.” He says the word
dependable
with nunlike primness, tilting his head, pursing his lips.
I laugh and that eggs him on.
“He shows up at precisely the right time, he says precisely the right things, and he always, always has a condom.”
Frank has condoms. When we’re really bored, Patrick and I sneak them out of his room and fill them with water and lob them at Elyse. She calls them greasy balloons and shrieks whenever she sees one.
“Do you have a new girlfriend?”
“Not really.”
“What about Deena?”
“Who?” This time he really doesn’t know who I’m talking about.
“That girl in your apartment in Somerville.”
A grimace, as brief as a gust of wind, passes across his face. “I never had anything to do with her.” He’s a bad liar. He keeps talking to cover it up. “She’s a very fucked-up young woman.”
That’s what she said about you, I want to say but I don’t. I don’t want to push him any lower than he already is.
“And you, my little hermitoid. What is going on in your sixth-grade world?”
I knew he’d ask this and I know just the kinds of thing he likes to hear so I prepared just the right story. “Funny you should ask,” Isay, warming up. He smiles and I continue.
“Oh, fair to middling.”
“Yeah?” Meaning she wants to hear more.
“I’ve been in school so long.”
“Garvey.”
“I’m just saying. I was in boarding school for four years before this. Everyone else runs around like they’ve been let out of a cage, and I feel like it’s just another cage. A less interesting cage, actually.”
“Three and a half more years. That’s all. Then it’s over forever.”
“Yeah.” He slumps to the sofa and puts his boots up on the coffee table. Mom doesn’t tell him to take them off. He pulls out a new pack of cigarettes, smashes both ends into his palm a couple of times, unwraps the cellophane, then slides one out and lights it. “Then I get to go out and find my perfect career that will swallow up the rest of my promising life.” He blows out a long streamof smoke. “It all may be quite moot. I wasn’t able to register this week for next semester’s classes. Dad’s a little late on the payments, it turns out.”
My mother sits down on the couch beside him. “You’re joking, right?”
“I am not joking.”
“You need to talk to him about that. Tomorrow.”
Garvey taps the ashes onto his jeans and rubs them in. My mother brings him an ashtray but he doesn’t use it. “I don’t need his money.”
“Garvey, you need this degree.”
“I can pay for it myself. Brian Foley pays his own way. He works in the library I think. I visited him a few weeks ago.”
“UMass only costs three hundred dollars a year. Of course he can work it off. Harvard is several thousand.”
“So I’ll go to UMass. Harvard is a bunch of self-inflated morons. They all walk around in tuxes on the weekend. I’m not kidding. I met this bartender last weekend and he’s starting a moving company, furniture and crap, and he asked me to do some jobs for him. Might have to miss a few classes, but it’s good money.”
“Please talk to your father.”
“No.”
“I’m worried now.”
“I’m worried too.”
My mother gets up and rinses off the plate in the kitchen. She takes her time. Eventually the dishwasher squeaks open and the plate is slotted in. I know there’s nothing else for her to do in there but she stays in there, thinking.
I watch Garvey smoke.
“Dad and Mrs.—I mean
Catherine
—are married now,” I say.
“I heard. A little Nassau combo platter: divorce, wedding, and a nice golden tan for the holidays.”
“Frank’s got your room.”
Garvey snorts. “I’ll have to show him my
Playboy
stash.”
“He already found it.”
“Really? Cagey bugger.”
“He’s weird. “
“With a mother like that.”
“How’s Heidi?”
“Who?”
I give him a look.
“She’s got a new boyfriend. He’s very dependable.” He says the word
dependable
with nunlike primness, tilting his head, pursing his lips.
I laugh and that eggs him on.
“He shows up at precisely the right time, he says precisely the right things, and he always, always has a condom.”
Frank has condoms. When we’re really bored, Patrick and I sneak them out of his room and fill them with water and lob them at Elyse. She calls them greasy balloons and shrieks whenever she sees one.
“Do you have a new girlfriend?”
“Not really.”
“What about Deena?”
“Who?” This time he really doesn’t know who I’m talking about.
“That girl in your apartment in Somerville.”
A grimace, as brief as a gust of wind, passes across his face. “I never had anything to do with her.” He’s a bad liar. He keeps talking to cover it up. “She’s a very fucked-up young woman.”
That’s what she said about you, I want to say but I don’t. I don’t want to push him any lower than he already is.
“And you, my little hermitoid. What is going on in your sixth-grade world?”
I knew he’d ask this and I know just the kinds of thing he likes to hear so I prepared just the right story. “Funny you should ask,” Isay, warming up. He smiles and I continue.
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