Chapter 10
It was the end of the week. Friday night. June Reynolds came home from work, walked right to the bar and mixed herself a drink.
"Would either of you like to join me?" she asked her daughters.
Liz spoke right up. "Yes, thank you, Mother."
"No, thank you," Barbara said, giving her sister a puzzled look. June noticed the expression. She knew this was rather unusual behavior for her. She rarely drank, and then only on social occasions, but today she simply had to have one. There was nothing else to be done about it. After a week like the one she'd had, she needed something-anything. First that damned Liz had come home for the summer. June had hoped she would travel or work somewhere else. Why hadn't she gone to stay with her father? They could have had a lovely time together. But no, he probably had all the women he could handle in New York. And now, she couldn't be sure, but it seemed that Barbara was spending more and more time with her, probably picking up some of her dirty ideas. But the worst problem of all was Larry Aldrich. June had finally broken it off. How could she build a relationship with a fully impotent man? Why should she be expected to even try? Was she so unattractive that a normal man wouldn't want her? It had been a bad year for June Reynolds: the deeply wounding separation from her husband after his incestuous behavior with their daughter, and then the humiliating affair with Larry Aldrich. She was beginning to feel she had lost all her value as a woman.
"Are you eating with us tonight, Mom?" Barbara asked.
Her mother sat on the living room sofa. She took a long sip of her manhattan before answering her. "Yes, of course I am, why?"
"Is there anything wrong?" Barbara asked. "No," June answered simply.
Liz sat on the other end of the sofa and thought to herself: This is the couch where two days ago I was blowing Bobby just before his girlfriend came over, and I took her upstairs and fucked her with my vibrator. A warm flush went through the dark-haired girl. She looked to her side. Her mother was sitting on just the spot where Liz had taken her little brother's prick in her mouth and sucked it. If she only knew, thought Liz. She smiled as she drank.
During dinner June opened a bottle of wine and finished most of it herself. When the meal ended the first thing she did was head straight to the liquor cabinet. She weaved slightly as she crossed the room and returned with a decanter of cream sherry. She poured a glass for Liz as well as herself.
Barbara excused Bobby and herself right after supper with the statement that they were going to the movies. Since it was Friday night Bobby was allowed to go. Liz had planned to join them, but it was obvious from the conversation that her mother had something she wanted to discuss. Liz felt annoyed that her mother had not spoken to her all week, and now that she wanted to go out, it was impossible. It especially irked Liz because she knew that the other kids had really no intention of going to the movies. The plan had been for them to say that to get Bobby to go with them, and then head for the beach, find a secluded spot, and ball their brother till his brains fell out. He had been depressed lately and certainly needed some cheering up..
Now the plan had been spoiled, so Barbara had to do it alone. Still, Liz snickered to herself, she doesn't seem to mind at all.
Liz took her sherry and joined her mother in the living room. They sat again on the lush sofa-this time their positions were reversed. Liz crossed her long legs, nursed her sherry, and waited for her mother to speak. She was expecting a lecture on staying away from Barbara.
"Don't you ever wear any clothes," June suddenly demanded.
Here it comes, Liz thought. She was scantily dressed as usual in blue jeans which were cut off so close to her crotch a few pubic hairs showed. She also wore a brief halter top of some flimsy material.
"Oh Mother, for Christsake! It's summer. Do you expect me to run around in slacks when it's eighty-five degrees outside? When you sit out by the pool you wear a hell of a lot less than this."
Her mother was not prepared for this quick comeback. Had she been more sober she would have made a mental note that Liz had picked up more than good grades at college-she had obviously returned a much more self-assured young woman. But in her present condition June was not up to a fight. She did not have it in her anyway; it was not her intention to argue, and she silently reprimanded herself for starting off on the wrong foot as well as being half bombed.
"I know it, Liz. I'm sorry I jumped at you."
Now it was Liz's turn to be surprised. This wasn't her mother talking; maybe there was more to this conversation than met the eye.
"What is it, Mother. What's wrong?"
When June lifted her head to answer, Liz could see that tears had already begun to form in her eyes. She moved over next to her mother and put her arms around her. Her mother was crying. In a few moments her wracking sobs had contorted her face into a mask of misery.
"It's all right," Liz soothed, "don't cry now. Come on."
In what was obviously a brave attempt to salvage her sinking pride, June wiped her eyes and sat up straight. But it wasn't that easy to control the force of sadness that gripped her.
"Maybe if I talk about it," she said.
"Of course," Liz said. She felt genuinely sorry for her; no matter what had gone down between them the woman was still her mother after all.
"I've been so sad about your father," June said heavily, sniffling.
Liz froze. She feared a new war was about to break out. June noticed her discomfort.
"Oh, no," she reassured her daughter, "I know now that if what happened hadn't happened then and with you, it would have happened sooner or later with someone else. It wasn't your fault, and I want you to know I don't hold you responsible any more."
Liz didn't know what to say so she just nodded and kept silent. Her mother said nothing for a few moments and then continued.
"Don't you see?" she said desperately, "it was me, my fault. If I had been better for him it wouldn't have happened."
"Now, Mother, we don't know that."
"Of course we do, at least I do." June took a deep breath and began again. "It was the same with Larry, the same cause anyway."
"I don't understand what you're talking about."
June followed her with her eyes; they pleaded with her to understand. Liz wasn't sure she wanted to.
"It's simple," her mother said. "Your father wanted you because I didn't excite him any more."
Liz shook her head. She knew what she had to say.
"Now, Mother-" "No, listen. I had the same problem with Larry, with Mr. Aldrich, except that he was impotent right from the start. I couldn't do anything for him."
"But that's not your fault," Liz said. "There are plenty of guys running around that can't get it up. It's not your fault if the guy you're dating has problems."
"Of course it is," her mother insisted. "Don't you see that if I were really attractive to him his problems wouldn't matter? If I were desirable he would have been able to show it, but he couldn't. We went together for four months and he couldn't. Not once."
"Then why did you go out with him? There was obviously something wrong-" "With me," June finished.
"No!" Liz protested. "Oh, Mother," she said with a long sigh, "what have I done to you."
June had finished her sherry and poured herself another. Half of the glass ended up spilled on the coffee table. Liz looked at her mother as she wiped up the puddle with her handkerchief. Very close to her fortieth birthday, she still did not look a day over thirty-five. She took good care of herself, and it showed. She had kept her figure slim throughout the years and, even though there were more angles now than curves she still, after three children, maintained an appearance at once mature and vivacious. Her face had aged well. As in all attractive older women it had deepened rather than deteriorated. Her dark, almost black hair was streaked with gray and she wore it long to her shoulders. Liz thought she was quite a prize for a mature man or, for that matter, a young man who enjoyed older women. That's when Liz got an idea.
Her mother, having opened her heart, was quiet now as she sipped her sherry. Liz congratulated herself on her wickedness and the plot fell into place in her mind. This would be the most dangerous scheme yet, and it all depended on the extent of her mother's desperation.
"May I ask you a question," Liz said, breaking the silence.
Her mother looked up from her drink. Liz wasn't sure how drunk she was. Drunk enough to confess her troubles, but was she drunk enough to do something about them?
"Why did you tell me all this?"
"Because I knew you would understand. Barbara is too young. She doesn't know anything about sex.'J If you only knew, Liz thought.
"All right," she said aloud. "Then since you value my presence would you value my advice? I think you're wrong. I think you're attractive and I think most men find you attractive and I can prove it to you if you really want to find out."
"I do," June said.
Here it comes, Liz thought.
"What do you think of Carl Aldrich?" she asked.
Her mother looked puzzled. "Barbara's boyfriend?"
"He's not Barbara's boyfriend, Mother, at least not as far as Barbara is concerned."
"He is a nice-looking boy. He seems bright." She was obviously finding it difficult to concentrate on their conversation after a full evening of drinking. , "Well, I happen to know that he's crazy about you, that he thinks you're fantastic and that he's dying to get you in bed."
"Elizabeth!" her mother gasped.
"Well, you asked for my advice. I think you should try him. He may just give you back your self-esteem."
June said nothing. Liz couldn't tell whether she was considering the proposition or simply speechless with surprise.
"You really think he wants me?"
Liz nearly fell over with surprise. In truth, she hadn't really expected her mother to go along with it. She knew now that the woman was very low.
"I know it," Liz assured her. She poured another sherry for her mother and lit a cigarette for each of them.
"I'll have to think about that," June said.
To hell with that, thought Liz, if she thinks about it she'll never go through with it. "Okay, whatever you want," she said. "Will you excuse me for a minute? I have to get more cigarettes from my room."
Her mother made an exaggerated gesture of dismissal as Liz went upstairs. She hurried to the telephone in the master bedroom. She dialed Carl's number. The clock on the wall read eight o'clock.
The phone rang at the Aldrich home and was answered by a male voice.
"Hello, Carl?" Liz said immediately.
"Uh, no. This is Carl's father. Hold on please." It was the first time Liz had ever heard Larry Aldrich's voice. He certainly doesn't sound impotent, she thought. The voice came back on the line. "Can you hold on please? I think he's down in the playroom with his sister."
"Certainly, just tell him it's Liz, please."
"Fine, just a minute."
Again the line was silent. Then Carl's voice came through.
"Hello, Liz?"
"Well, well, well. Down in the playroom with Holly, eh? What's going on over there?"
"Nothing. At least till Dad goes to sleep. I wish to hell he'd take your mother out more often."
"You can forget about that, handsome. They broke up, which brings us to the reason I called."
"They did? Oh, well. What's up?"
"I need your help," Liz said. "You've got to come over right now and make love to my mother."
"What?"
"You heard me. She's very upset and she needs a man."
"You've got to be kidding," Carl said.
"I'm not kidding, I'm asking you to do me a favor."
"No way," Carl said.
"Why not?"
"Why not? Why should I? Why should I go all the way over to your house to ball a forty-year-old woman when I've got a cute little fifteen-year-old right here at home?"
Liz could not believe he was serious. Had she been more rational, she would have realized that Carl had simply fallen into the trap she had succeeded in helping Bobby escape.
"You bastard! If it weren't for me you'd still be chasing my sister, getting nowhere, and beating your own pud in the bathroom to pass the time." "So?" he said calmly.
"So you can forget about ever getting near Barbara or me again," she spat into the phone.
"That's all right. I've got my little Holly to keep me happy."
Liz was furious. All right, she thought, you ungrateful little prick. Here's something that'll take the blood out of your penis.
"And I've got all your grass to keep me happy!"
There was silence on the line.
"What?" Carl said.
"That's right. Check your room. If there aren't six ounces of dope missing I'll eat my vibrator." She heard him throw down the phone and charge up the stairs. Two minutes later he was back, panting.
"You bitch. You goddamned bitch-I'll be right over." He slammed the receiver down and cursed. He went downstairs to the playroom. Holly was bundled up in a terry cloth robe on the studio couch watching television. When she saw Carl she smiled broadly, then frowned as she noticed the look on his face.
"What's wrong?" she asked, brushing her blonde hair carelessly out of her eyes.
He knew he could not tell her the truth; if he did she would insist on going with him, his father would get suspicious, and the whole thing might blow up in his face. "I've got to go out." He winced when he saw her crestfallen expression. "I'm sorry, babydoll, but it's business. A big deal that wasn't supposed to happen until tomorrow. Fucker showed up a day early. I've got to go."
"But Carl," she said, "I was going to put some pills in Daddy's tea again. I thought we could be alone. Billy will be in bed in an hour." Her full lower lip protruded in a provocative pout.
"I know," he said sadly as he pulled on his boots. "Tell you what, I'll see if I can't get back in a couple of hours."
Her face brightened. "Oh, good. I'll wait up for you."
"Good idea," he said, smiling. He stooped and kissed her lightly on the lips. "Keep it warm for me, okay?" He pinched one nipple through the heavy cloth.
Her cheeks blushed around a sweet smile. "I can hardly wait."
Carl went up the stairs and out of the house. As he walked to the Reynolds' home through the tree-lined street, he thought about what he was about to do. Balling with other kids was one thing, but trying to include grown-ups was risky business. Their ideas about things were a lot firmer, and their behavior was strongly set by years of conditioning. There was no way of predicting how they would react to an obvious assault on their so-called values. Carl didn't trust Mrs. Reynolds. And he certainly didn't trust Liz. That horny cunt would probably try to join in. Well, all he could do was make the most of it if it happened. Actually the prospect was not so bleak. He had never screwed a woman as old as June, but he had always wondered what it would be like. Now he was about to find out. At least that was something to look forward to.
He pictured June Reynolds in his mind's eye. He tried to recall every detail he could about her, every line, every curve. By the time he reached her home he'd forgotten all about the marijuana. Liz answered the doorbell.
"Carl, hello. What a nice surprise."
"Hello Liz."
"No, she's not home," Liz improvised. "She took Bobby to the movies. Why don't you come in and have a drink with us?" She spoke as loudly as she could without shouting. She wanted to be sure her mother heard every word. As Liz held the door open for him, Carl passed close by her and whispered, "You bitch." She smiled wickedly and led him into the living room.
"Look who dropped in to see Barbara," Liz said as they entered the room.
June looked up from the sofa. She was totally drunk. It was evident that she had no idea what was happening as Liz poured Carl a drink and engaged him in conversation. After fifteen minutes of Liz and Carl talking to each other politely Carl said, "Ah, shit," and rose to go.
Liz gave him a blistering stare and said, "Aren't you forgetting something?"
Carl knew he was trapped. He turned on Liz violently; he had really been ready for a good time. Now all his frustrations came pouring out. "All right," he said vehemently, "But we do this my way."
Liz shrugged. He walked over to June and said, "Come upstairs, Mrs. Reynolds. There is something I want to show you."
"What? .. . huh? . . ." That was all June could manage.
The young man took her by the wrist and half dragged her up the stairs to her bedroom. Liz followed quietly, amused at the absurdity of the situation.
It was terrible for Carl. He undressed the intoxicated woman himself as she sagged all over the bed. He used cold cream from her nightstand to lubricate his prick. And when he entered she was cold as a clam.
All the value in the experience-the woman's age and maturity, her unquestionable attractiveness, the fact that she had been his father's mistress-all those elements that would have made this one of the most memorable sex acts in his life were spoiled by her humiliating drunkenness. When he came it was only by fantasizing he was in his own bed with his own sister. June had long since passed out.
Carl hadn't even taken off his shirt. After he pulled on his pants Liz handed him his grass and he left without a word.
Four hours later, around midnight, Liz was reading a slim volume by a single lamp in the living room when her mother came down the stairs. She put down her book as her mother sat beside her on the sofa. June had put on a sheer dressing-gown to cover her nude body, but her hair was still disheveled from the episode.
"What time is it?" June asked, brushing her hair back with one hand.
"Around twelve," Liz said quietly. "I didn't expect to see you until morning."
June grimaced at this reminder of her suffering. She had a massive hangover.
"What are you reading?" she asked her daughter.
Liz smiled to herself. Mother always tried to instill a sense of culture into her children, she thought. "A short novel by Andre Gide. The Immoralist."
June's lips formed a smirk. "Sounds like a good title for my behavior tonight," she said.
The conversation lulled. Liz lit a cigarette. "I'm having coffee, would you like a cup?" she asked.
"Please."
Liz went into the kitchen and returned with two cups of black coffee. "Feeling guilty?" she asked.
"A little," June admitted. "But mostly I feel-I don't understand it-relieved."
Liz raised her eyebrows as she drank.
"I know," June continued. "I'm surprised myself. Actually I'm confused, too. What really happened?"
Liz was prepared for this. "I don't know all the details, of course, but after Carl came over I went into the kitchen for another glass. When I came back you had taken him upstairs. I was down here the whole time so I really can't say, but it sounded as if you both had a very good time."
"I wish I could remember," June said, shaking her head.
Liz put her cup down and took her mother's hand. In spite of her lies she had never felt this close to her mother in her entire life.
"It's over now and done with. It's best to forget the past and just be happy with whatever it has given you. By deliberately going against what you thought you believed, you have earned a measure of freedom that is invaluable. We should never feel guilty for sinning against laws that others set down for us to live by."
June looked lovingly into her daughter's eyes. "I was very wrong about you," she said. "You have grown up a great deal. And, do you know, I haven't felt this close to another woman in years. I only wish your father were here to enjoy what we have now."
Liz smiled and kissed her mother's soft lips. Then she led her, arm in arm, up the staircase.
That night June Reynolds learned many things from her daughter, including the touch and taste of another woman.