Other People's Houses(78)
Sara stepped between them. “Hi, guys, how about you take this outside?”
Anne looked apologetic, but Charlie was past it. “How about this bitch just leaves, if her legs come together sufficiently for walking?”
“Wow,” said a voice from across the room, although it wasn’t clear who had said it.
Sara firmed up her voice a little. “Charlie, this isn’t the place for this. We’re all here to celebrate Iris’s birthday, and there are lots of little kids here, including yours, so let’s just table this discussion for now.” She touched his arm, but he shook her off.
“You broke my heart, Anne.” He leaned forward and poked his wife in the throat, making her step back. “I’ve loved you ever since we met, and we have kids, and they love you, too, and you just. Don’t. Give. A. Shit. Do you?”
“I do,” Anne whispered, her face pale, as she turned to leave. “I’m so sorry, Sara, I shouldn’t have come.”
“It’s OK, Anne,” said Sara. She turned as she felt Iris’s hand on her elbow. Her wife was right behind her, not a hell of a lot less drunk than Charlie. “What the heck’s going on?” she whispered in Sara’s ear. Sara turned up her palms, watching Charlie’s face carefully.
“It’s not OK. It’s so fucking messed up, it’s beyond comprehension,” he said loudly, grabbing Anne by the arm.
Bill showed up, having just diverted a set of children who were heading in this direction. “Hey, guys, you can be heard in the garden, and the kids are getting worried.”
“Fuck off, Bill. Your wife left you, too, right? Maybe there’s something wrong with the water on the street. It turns wives into whores.” Charlie wavered slightly, but wouldn’t let go of Anne. “Hey, Anne, maybe we could go home for another guilt fuck like the other day, before I found out why you were suddenly so hot for me.” Tears came into his eyes. “I was so happy.”
“Let me go, Charlie,” said Anne, pulling away. “You want me to leave, and I want to go. We’ll talk later when you sober up.”
“No, let’s talk now,” he said, and started dragging her out of the front door. “I want to talk now.”
Bill looked over at Michael, who had appeared with Frances, and all of them followed Charlie and Anne out into the street, with Iris in tow. Sara closed the front door behind them, although several faces appeared at the windows. Now all the neighbors were outside, with all their kids inside. What could possibly go wrong? Sara and Frances both kept looking back at the house, torn between competing responsibilities.
Bill tried to reason with Charlie. “Charlie, let her go for now. You guys can talk another time. Come in and have some coffee, and something to eat.”
Charlie turned on him. “You’re such a nice guy, Billy, why did your wife leave, eh? Why did Julie run off? Maybe we’re too nice, that’s our problem.”
Bill ignored him. “Yeah, we’re awesome, Charlie. Let’s go get something to eat, yeah?”
“No, but really, where did Julie go, Bill? She was here and then she wasn’t. Is she fucking some other guy, Bill, is that it? Or some other woman? Or two other women? Or did she just get sick of the same old cock, was that the problem?”
“Jesus, Charlie, get a fucking grip,” said Michael, who could see Bill was starting to get angry. “You and your wife are having a problem right now, don’t drag us into it.”
“Shut up, Michael. Just because you and your fat wife have it all together, everything perfect. Of course you never have sex anymore . . .”
Anne pulled away from Charlie, suddenly, and started down the street, tears streaming down her face. Frances walked quickly after her. “Anne, let me drive you home.”
“No!” shouted Charlie. “Let her walk! Let her stumble into traffic right under a tractor trailer! I wish you were dead, Anne. I really fucking do.” He turned to Bill. “Don’t you wish your wife was dead, too, Bill? Better dead than in someone else’s bed, right?” He began to laugh. “That rhymes.”
Bill suddenly stepped forward and punched Charlie with enough force to lift him right off his feet. He landed on his back and lay there, stunned and suddenly sober.
“My wife is nearly dead, you asshole,” hissed Bill, his fist still clenched. “My wife has been in another state for three months getting treated for cancer and it’s killing her.” He was furious. “And I’m stuck here, trying to hold it together for Lucas, because he’s only four years old and Julie wanted to go face her shit alone, because she thought he needed me more than she did. He thinks she’s working on a movie somewhere, and twice a day she drags herself into clothes and puts on a fucking wig and props her ass up on a pillow and Skypes him so he knows how much she loves both of us. We’re doing our fucking job, like you should be. Don’t you think I’d rather she was with some other man? I would give my fucking arm for Julie to be having an affair, instead of fighting for her life all alone in fucking Minnesota . . .”
“Daddy?” A small voice came from the doorway, and they all turned to see Lucas heading out of the house. “You said the F word!” He looked shocked, but had clearly only heard the last few words.
Bill looked at his son. His face relaxed, and those close enough could see the effort it took. Lucas had no idea. Bill held out his hand. “Hey, chief. What’s up?”