By Darren Kaminsky
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Darren Kaminsky's novel, Sugar Spun Sisters, appears in serialized form every Monday right here on Me Three. The story follows the lives of five twenty-somethings living in Washington D.C. As far as the editors are currently aware, none of these characters work in politics.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
August 30
Brenna and John Slater Alcott are one of those opposites-attract type of couples. She’s a nihilist. He’s full of self-belief. She questions everything. He accepts everything. She’s full of cynicism. He’s full of respect. It doesn’t matter to her what she does because it’s all bunk anyway. He does what he should and what he’s supposed to because it’s the right thing to do.
In 200+ years, his family has produced 4 congressmen, 1 congressman who became a senator, 2 governors and 1 governor who became a losing presidential candidate. His family is like the Adams, the Fishes, the Kennedys and every other family that thinks that they have some inherent right to office and power. And people treat them that way as well. As if one Alcott was as good as another Alcott and that there’s something to a person’s genes and name that makes them better. A brand name, like Levi’s pants or Kleenex facial tissues or White Cloud toilet paper.
I haven’t asked, but I’m sure that the Alcotts were on the Mayflower, active in the Abolitionist movement and the Temperance movement and sponsored bills for the Land Grant Universities, to bring electricity to rural areas, to build highways to aid commerce and give food stamps and milk allotments to starving infants. They are just those sort of Puritan, Calvinist, do-good-for-the-sake-of-good sorts of people. He’s boring to talking to, but he’s a pillar of righteousness.
The scandal we’ve brought upon him is a small one, but for his sort, Brenna is scandal as well. The absolutely wrong woman, with no will-to-do-good and a swirl of boyfriends and drinks hard liquor and values her own stories of self-annihilation more than any story of conventional accomplishment. If they were a ship and not a couple then the ship would sink by the heavy end and disappear to the bottom of the ocean or break in half like the Titanic; one end to the bottom of the ocean and the other end precariously floating while doomed passengers cling as long as possible until it too inevitably slides below.
And therein lies the mystery. If two people are so different, why are they so attracted to each other? Why does she respect a man that lets his father forbid him from seeing her despite it being 1995 and he being nearly 30 years-old? Why does he call her every night anyway if his father’s will is enough to get him to stop seeing her? Why is it not enough to get him to stop calling her? Why does she look so happy as she whispers into the phone if her boyfriend is such a cowardly tool? Why are his family’s fortunes and reputation enough to affect his behavior, but not to change it?
* * *
From Dani’s roof, I could see three different places that I’ve lived in DC. I could also see the National Cathedral, the Russian Embassy and most of DC between here and Georgetown.
We held her going-away party tonight. It was more of a barbecue and was not an unrestrained group of whoever showed up, but, instead, just close friends... Bella, Imogen, Teddy, Frank, Jean, and Brenna. Brenna brought Gaff, who invited his roommates, who didn’t show up until late. Up until they got there, all the food had been vegetarian, but Gaff’s roommates brought all sorts of meat products...burgers, bacon, various types of sausage. Jean and Bella were a little put-out that suddenly the meat had to be accommodated. Jean asked that half the grill be made vegetarian-only.
Personally, I didn’t mind the idea of a real hot dog. Even if, as Jean says, hot dogs and other processed meat cause the most virulent types of cancer. (In fact, she postulates a conspiracy and cover up by the meat industry of the harmful effects of processed meat but I’ll save that for another time.)
Soon, the whole rooftop was much smokier, so smoky that we all had to move into one small corner of the roof deck. After the party, Brenna would ask me if I was uncomfortable hanging out with Dani and Bella. I would answer that I didn’t even think about it, it seemed completely natural to me.
And it did, we sat in our little corner, avoiding the smoke as best we could and all, everyone, talked together and it was completely comfortable.
There was quite a bit of reminiscing and, if my life were a television show, this would be the cheap-ass episode that flashed back to all the other episodes over the course of the many long years of the show.
People could see the scene where I met Bella and kissed her for the first time and first went to parties in the backyards of Dupont Circle houses and met congressional staffers, environmental activists and bad aspiring punk rock musicians with good hair and no talent. But, when you first meet those sorts of people, you’re terribly impressed and feel as though you’re all of sudden connected to the dynamo of power and fame, which, in your delusion, you’re sure that you’re soon to join. Just as soon as the bad guitarist who’s, at the moment of your delusion’s apex, trying to steal your girlfriend, manages to make it big himself. Because the lemmings in front of you have to get off the cliff to clear the way, don’t they?
Then there’d be the point where we meet Dani and we become close and Dani dates two of our friends and we all go out as a necklace of couples, before the splitting of some of the couples ruptures all of the couples. The discontent of each set infecting the other sets. Whispers among the women wondering if the men weren’t taking them for granted (some of it with hindsight subtext as some of those women later dated their friend’s boyfriends).
Disconnection among the men. Roving eyes. Silences. More time spent out. Rumors of secondary and tertiary girlfriends.
Relationship flame-outs are much more interesting to watch. There weren’t so many of those. Just slow burns-outs. And all of it leading right to that rooftop where the meat smoke overwhelmed everything, where we all waited to go do something else somewhere else, and soon.
Me too. I’ll do that too. To New York as planned? It all seems so hazy and impossible. You want for the how of a situation to be obvious. How will I pay my rent? How will I get work? How will I find a place to live. All the hows are unknown for me and every time Dani starts asking me about them I have nothing to say.
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Darren Kaminsky is a writer living in Brooklyn. He can be contacted at sugarspun @ bigbagoftricks dot com.
© 2006 Me Three
