Kevin's Korner w wersji do nauki angielskiego ebook

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Kevin’s Korner to pełna humoru i ciepła, ale też gorzkiej refleksji opowieść o młodym nauczycielu szkoły średniej, który od niedawna znowu jest singlem. Tytułowy Kevin, który po ostatecznym fiasku krótkiego i nieudanego małżeństwa postanawia chociaż przez chwilę traktować relacje z kobietami czysto rozrywkowo, niespodziewanie spotyka kobietę, o której nie potrafi zapomnieć. Nowa znajomość komplikuje życie bohatera, a przede wszystkim jego i tak napięte relacje z bratem.

Opracowany przez nas podręcznik oparty na oryginalnym tekście powieści został skonstruowany według przejrzystego schematu:

PART I

BEFORE YOU READ

Check your vocabulary

Match:

A) the informal forms (1–10) with the formal ones (A–J).

1. crash

2. cook

3. dog

4. get laid

5. shinding

6. meh

7. gotta

8. crap

9. hop

10. hot

A. have sex

B. you say it when you want show you don’t care about something

C. party

D. sleep

E. man who likes casual sex with women

F. have got to

G. perform well (e.g. a concert)

H. rubbish

I. be full of partying guests having fun

J. sexy

B) idioms (1–10) with their definitions (A–J).

1. have the run of the house

2. out of the blue

3. up and coming

4. larger than life

5. wind to a close

6. strike home

7. be a sucker for something

8. have work done

A. likely to succeed in the future

B. come to an end

C. have a weakness for something

D. used to say when somebody is excited or nervous

E. be able to move freely around a house

F. unexpectedly

G. achieve a desired effect

9. my heart skipped a beat

10. have a quick bite

H. have a small meal quickly

I. have plastic surgery

J. attracting attention

C) the words (1–10) with their definitions (A–J).

1. figure

2. fish

3. nudge

4. venue

5. spar

6. lamely

7. dorky

8. snort

9. groggy

10. self-deprecating

A. fight, argue

B. unconvincingly

C. undervaluing oneself

D. breathe noisily through one’s nose

E. faint and confused

F. place (e.g. for a meeting or concert)

G. think

H. try to gather information

I. prompt

J. silly

Answers

A) 1. D, 2. G, 3. E, 4. A, 5. C, 6. B, 7. F, 8. H, 9. I, 10. J

B) 1. E, 2. F, 3. A, 4. J, 5. B, 6. G, 7. C, 8. I, 9. D, 10. H

C) 1. G, 2. H, 3. I, 4. F, 5. A, 6. B, 7. J, 8. D, 9. E, 10. C

Phrasal Verbs

Read the sentences (1–10) and decide what each phrasal verb means (A–J).

1. If you’ve got any new idea, I’m up for it.

2. I saw in the darkness a couple making out on the couch.

3. I sent her clear signals but she didn’t seem to catch on.

4. Hold on a second. I need to check in on my daughter.

5. Her eyes darted away to the other end of the room.

6. She was sipping some red wine and soon drifted off.

7. The door of her car was badly beat up.

8. We were good friends once but we’ve grown apart.

9. When we arrived at the club, the band was wrapping up a set.

10. As she was standing there alone in the bright sunlight, I took her all in.

A. gradually fall asleep

B. have a good look

C. be willing

D. understand

E. make sure someone is doing okay

F. kiss and caress each other

G. dented and scratched

H. finish a part of a concert

I. gradually become less intimate or friendly

J. move quickly and suddenly

Answers

1. C, 2. F, 3. D, 4. E, 5. J, 6. A, 7. G, 8. I, 9. H, 10. B

1.

She came into my life like a completely unexpected and unasked-for gift on your birthday. And actually, it was close to my birthday, so it was exactly like that. Anyway, she was the best surprise that a guy could have wished for. I was a broken man – I’d been married and divorced and in a couple of unhappy relationships in the previous year or two, and I met Maryann through my brother Michael. They came down to Saint John from my hometown of Williamstown, to see a show at the Imperial. I went out with them that evening and was charmed beyond all reason by this lovely creature with a broken hand on my brother’s arm. The broken hand proved significant for me – it would require specialized therapy that was not available in Williamstown, so she’d have to come back to Saint John again a few more times. It was also significant for her because as a professional musician, a violinist, she needed the full use of her fingers.

I knew nothing about her. Didn’t even know if my Mikey was dating her or what their story was, since he and I weren’t really that close. He’d call me up whenever he was coming to town, but that was rare – his life kept him at home in Williamstown teaching at the university. I was “only” a high school teacher, so I’d had to move to find a job. He got his M.A. and Ph.D. and was able to stay in our wonderful hometown. I hardly ever went there anymore. There was nothing for me there.

They seemed like maybe they were dating from the way Mike was talking to her and being extra nice to her, like opening the car door for her like a real gentleman, which he wasn’t, but then she did have a broken arm, so maybe that was why he was doing it. I figured I needed to find out more about her and about their relationship.

So, just a week after I’d first met her, and on my actual birthday, I took the hour-long drive down the Fundy coast to Williamstown. It was my first time back home in over a year. I asked Mike if I could stay with him. He couldn’t say no – he was living in our parents’ house rent-free. There was plenty of room in the house since there had been six of us kids in the family. Mike, the prodigy, was the youngest, and the only one who had stayed in town, so he had the run of the house.

We drank beer in the hot tub on the back deck. It was a Friday in late May and definitely warm enough to be outside, but the hot tub made it even nicer.

“When’d you get this?” I inquired. The last time I’d been to the house the deck had been as it had been when our parents were still living: a barbecue grill, a table, and some deck chairs. No hot tub.

“Last year. It’s awesome, don’t you think? I justify it by saving money on baths.” “What?”

“I like baths better than showers. I figured having a hot tub that has hot water in it all the time has to be cheaper than having a bath every day, right?”

My brother was an environmentalist. In theory, anyway. He’d led the Green movement in Williamstown. The town council eventually instituted green bins and recycling with curbside pickup. His advanced degrees were in environmental science, but at St. Augustine’s University, Canada’s best small liberal arts school at least eight years running, he taught “The Ethics of Environmentalism and some other pseudo-scientific crap” courses.

“Sure,” I said. I wasn’t.

“What do you want to do tomorrow night for your actual birthday party?” “Surely you didn’t plan anything for me?”

“I figured you’d want to celebrate at the Red Dragon.” The Dragon was everyone’s favourite hangout in our little town. Correction, it had been my favourite hangout there while I was at SAU, but then it became everyone’s favourite after that. The bar actually had a plaque installed for me – Kevin’s Korner – on one of the benches where I always used to sit, because I’d brought them so much business over the years. And yes, I did always sit in that seat. Unless we were on the patio.

“Of course,” I said. Then, “did you invite anybody?”

I was fishing. “Yeah, did you?”

“Yes. Facebook is a wonderful thing.”

I’d made an event a few days earlier. I figured that would be enough to get any of my friends who were still in town to come out to the Dragon. I was not there that often anymore and yet I was still a local celebrity. Who knows, maybe even some of my Saint John and Fredericton friends would come down?

“Yeah. I’m bringing Maryann,” he said, very casually. It was just the opening I’d been waiting for.

“Who?” I said.

“The girl I came to the show with last week.”

“Oh yeah.” I pretended like I was just remembering. “The cellist with the broken arm.”

“Violinist. Hand.”

“What?”

“She plays the violin, and only her hand is broken, not her arm.” “Sorry! Touchy.”

“Nah, I’m just detail-oriented.”

“Yes. You always were.” I paused what I thought was just the right amount of time. “So, what’s the story there?”

“What do you mean?” “You and this Maryann.” “What about us?” “Exactly.”

He sighed and there was a long pause while he sucked his Moosehead bottle dry.

“It’s complicated,” he said at last.

“Go ahead, you can tell me. I’m your brother.”

It was a phrase from our childhood. We were the only two boys in a family that also included four girls and where Dad was hardly ever home.

“Well, to start, she’s married.”

I almost spat out my beer, but I managed to control myself. “Oh yeah?”

“I mean the marriage is over, it’s been over for a long time, but they’re not divorced yet. Separated, not divorced.”

I could feel there was more. He twisted the cap off another Moosehead bottle.

“And,” I nudged.

“She has a kid.” “Wow.”

“Yeah. Not ideal in any way, shape, or form.” “How old?”

“Five.”

“Tough.”

“Yeah.”

We each sipped our beers and thought back on all the people we’d known in childhood who’d gone through divorces. Their lives had been way tougher than ours. I mean Mom and Dad had come close to divorce several times – he was really hardly ever there – but then sometimes he had been home and things had been good. And they’d stayed married until Dad’s untimely death seven years ago.

“So, what are you gonna do?” “I don’t know.”

I was dying to know if he’d slept with her yet. Mike was a bit of a dog that way; he slept with lots of women and was never in a serious relationship with anyone since early on in his university days. And he always slept with the hottest women, too!

“You know that you do know.” “What?”

“You can’t do anything about it. Not until she’s divorced.” “Yeah. I guess you’re right. But you don’t understand.”

I sure didn’t. We’d been raised to not have affairs with married women. That’s why my divorce had been so acrimonious and so bloody tough for me.

“I do understand. You do too. You can’t do anything about this, Mike.” And, of course, I realized that neither could I.

2.

A few weeks passed, the school year wound to a close, and suddenly I got a text, completely out of the blue, from a number I didn’t recognize. It was from Maryann. She thanked me for the wonderful evening when she and Mike had come to see the show a few weeks ago, and she said she was coming to Saint John for some rehab and did I want to grab a drink sometime. I didn’t even remember giving her my cell number.

I texted back cautiously. “Glad you had a good time. Sure, I’m always up for a drink. Name the time and place.”

We exchanged a few more messages and settled on the Friday night at the end of June that was actually the last day of school for me. We met at the Alehouse which always seemed to be an up and coming place Uptown Saint John in those days, at seven o’clock.

“Hey,” she said, bright smile on her radiant face, her dirty-blonde hair a little messy, but on purpose, her right hand still bandaged up.

“Hey Maryann! How are you?”

I gave her a hug because I’m a hugger. I hug everyone. I think I had hugged her the first time we’d met as well, and that probably was the moment that the surprise and delight had really struck home. This time the hug was different. It was longer, more intimate somehow. She was shorter than me – quite a feat since I’m only 5’4 and that’s in shoes, and she fit into that hug perfectly. My heart, to be cliché, skipped a beat.

She sat down across from me, took me in with her green eyes, and started talking, but talking about me. She wanted to know how I was doing. She was curious, alive, intelligent, witty, funny, warm, and generous. I was falling for her hard.

Before we knew it, we’d had a few drinks and eaten a fine meal. We’d laughed, we’d been serious, we’d exchanged stories that we probably had never exchanged with relative strangers on what was really a first meeting, and suddenly it was eleven-thirty.

“Holy shit,” I said, when I finally noticed it checking my phone and I’d only done it because she was checking hers. Checking in on Joey. The kid. It didn’t occur to me then that eleven was an awfully late hour to be checking in on a five-year-old.

“What?” she asked, when she was done texting. “I had no idea it was so late,” I said.

“Yeah! Me neither. I’m just having such a great time.” “I know. Me too. Is that weird?”

“How can it be weird?” “No reason, I guess.”

“So.”

“So.”

“What now?”

“Well, do you have to be somewhere anytime soon?”

“Nope. I’m crashing at a friend’s house, but I have a key, and a separate entrance. I’m free and easy.”

I didn’t bite, though I was tempted.

“So, I have this crazy idea. Do you want to go to a secret party?” “What?”

“I heard about this last week when I was in Williamstown, of all places, but apparently, there’s this secret party going on today in a building just down the street from here. It’s the old Post Office or something. Anyway, the party is supposed to be awesome, and you have to have a password to get in.”

“What? Seriously?” “Yeah.”

“And you have the password?” “Yeah.”

I had to check my phone because the password was something really bizarre, and I’d had to write it down when I learned about it at the Red Dragon at my birthday party.

“Yeah, I have it.” “What is it?”

“The dead of midnight is the noon of thought,” I read from my iPhone screen. “Ah,” she exclaimed. “Barbauld. She’s one of my favourites.”

“Oh,” I said, not understanding. “I’m a gym teacher, remember?”

She laughed. Not in a derogatory way. And I was being self-deprecating. Sure, I taught Physical Education, but I was well read. I had two degrees, including one from a Liberal Arts school. But I’d never heard of this Barbauld, whoever he was.

“You should read her work. It’s amazing. I think that one is:

... or is there not

A tongue in every star that talks with man,

Andwooes him to be wise? nor wooes in vain;

This dead of midnight is the noon of thought,

And wisdom mounts her zenith with the stars.

I think it’s called ‘A Summer Evening’s Meditation’.” “Wow, you’re a poet.”

“I’m not. Barbauld was.”

“A friend of yours?” I was joking. She caught on.

“A friend of all women. But she lived some time ago. Maybe I was her in a past life.”

“You really think so?” “I wish.”

“So, what do you think?” “About the secret party?” “Yeah.”

“Oh, we’re going.”

She laughed the laugh that I already adored. And that was contagious.

We strolled down Water Street to the Old Post Office and I eventually found the door which was hidden down a little alley, the main doors having been blocked off since the building was for sale. At the door there was a bouncer. He looked at us inquiringly. We could hear music from somewhere inside the building.

“The dead of midnight is the noon of thought,” I said. The bouncer stepped aside.

“I guess that’s the right phrase.”

We went past him and Maryann thanked the large man who told us to go up two flights.

We did. We couldn’t really miss it since it was the only thing happening in the building, and the music was quite loud.

The room was white. It clearly had just been painted in preparation for the sale of the whole building, but what remained was just this large empty white space with gorgeous windows on three sides overlooking the harbour and the city. It was quite a venue for a secret party.

There was live music. A band that had played on the Boardwalk earlier that night was just wrapping up a set. It was incredible, because there were maybe only 50 people in the place. I had never been to a concert quite that exclusive, even though I’d attended some pretty small shows back in my university days at SAU.

“This band is cooking!” Maryann said, and she started dancing.

I was entranced. I’ve always been a sucker for a dancer. And she moved like a pro. Her body swayed, hips first, then she raised her arms, and her long hair flowed with the movement of her sensuous body. Have I mentioned her breasts yet? I mean these were spectacular breasts, and they moved well. I couldn’t believe this lady had a kid.

I joined in the dance, and we had a wonderful time. After a few tunes when the band took a break and the room had become sweltering, we wandered out onto the landing and she went up the stairs instead of back down, to the next landing where a window overlooked the one side of the building that couldn’t be seen from the white room.

And just as we stood by that window, fireworks started over the harbour. I don’t know what time it was and I have no idea whether I’d known there were supposed to be fireworks or not, but there they were.

I moved close to her and could smell her hair.

“Oh wow,” she said, mesmerized by the lights from the fireworks. “This is magical. Thank you, Kevin.”

She turned to face me and we were so close that it was almost uncomfortable, but not, we’d danced already after all, but then there was the fleeting thought of a kiss on both our minds, I’m sure, and just as suddenly Maryann turned away, back to the window, and I could see the bright colours on her face.

“This is wonderful.” “It is.”

“It must be late.”

I checked my phone. I couldn’t help it. “After midnight.”

“That’s when I turn into a pumpkin.” “I thought that was just the carriage.” “Yes. Well… Thank you.”

“No, thank you. Really. This has been a wonderful evening.” “Yes.”

“You need to go?”

“Yes.” There was real regret in her green eyes. “More therapy in the morning.” “Right.”

We touched hands for just the briefest moment and her fingers felt like electricity in the palm of my hand.

“I’ll walk you to your car.” “Thank you!”

I did. It was the longest walk it seemed. We walked quietly, and tried not to ruin the moment. “Thank you,” she said again at her beat up Corolla’s door. “I had a wonderful night.”

“Good-night.”

I drove back to my place in despair. Why hadn’t I kissed her? And why was I even thinking about kissing a married woman?

When I got back to the Lower West Side, I had a text from her. Another thank you. She’d had a magical evening and she listed some of the things that we had done, and how wonderful they were. She hoped we could see each other again.

“When do you leave?” I texted back. “Tomorrow, after my appointment.”

“Damn.”

“Yes. Well, I’ll be back. I do play with the Symphony, you know.” “They don’t play here till fall.”

“You must come to Williamstown in the summer? To visit friends?” “I must. I mean, I will.”

“Good. I will be in touch. Thank you again. It was truly wonderful. In the original sense of the word.”

I looked it up. I think she meant the meaning of amazing and astonishing rather than just great. I agreed.

3.

School was out for the summer and I had chosen not to do any summer camps that year, so I decided instead that I would travel around the Maritimes a bit. I had friends to visit in cities all over this corner of the world, and a friend of mine from Ottawa was coming to spend part of her summer with me, exploring this part of the country that she’d never visited before.

Truthfully, she was actually more of a friend of a friend. I had met her several summers before when I was travelling around Ontario with one of my cousins who lived in Toronto. He brought this woman, his friend Ayida, along on the trip. We got along famously – she had a sharp tongue and quick wit, and we sparred frequently and fervently. According to my cousin, who had dated her a few years before, but was no longer interested, we pretty much split the fights evenly between us. I had enjoyed that trip immensely and thought that the exotic and exciting Caribbean beauty was a good travelling companion. She and I had stayed in touch via email, and when she told me that she was coming to Atlantic Canada I decided to travel around with her.

I met her at the Halifax airport and we set out from there on a looping tour of Nova Scotia, then crossing the ferry to PEI and finally returning to New Brunswick and just doing the south of my home province. She had never been to the East Coast except for St. John’s on a layover once, so it was all new to her. She was very critical of the comparatively poor restaurants and low key historical offerings, but really enjoyed the beauty of the landscape and the ocean vistas. And Green Gables. Everyone always loves Green Gables.

For our first night, we had booked two rooms at a hotel in Halifax, but as we arrived in the Nova Scotia capital and resumed the banter we’d shared two years before, we realized that it was kind of foolish to waste our money on two rooms each night.

“You probably snore, though,” she said after we’d spent the first night in separate accommodations and we were discussing arrangements for the rest of the trip.

“Maybe you snore.” “Maybe I do.”

“You’d never know because nobody ever sleeps with you to tell you.” “Oh yeah, and you’d know because you’re just getting laid every night.” “You don’t know if I do.”

“And you don’t know if I don’t.”

The second night, in Lunenburg, we rented only one room. As it turned out, it only had one bed. “You know,” she said as we tried to decide whether to switch rooms or not, “I just started dating someone in Ottawa.” “Oh?”

“Yeah. We went out on one date before I flew to Halifax.” “I see.”

“He hasn’t texted me since I’ve been here, though.” “One date and he’s had enough.”

“Possibly.”

“I just started seeing someone too, you know,” I lied. In my head I was seeing Maryann, but in real life we were just casually texting even during my trip with Ayida. She was asking me about the trip and all the places I was visiting. She had said on our “date night” that she loved traveling and was really curious about how my trip was going. She missed the travel, she said. She had been all over the Maritimes in her touring days with the Williamstown String Quartet, a classical music ensemble she was in when she’d first graduated from SAU. Before marriage. Before Joey. I was asking her about her hand healing and giving her more details of the places we saw. We exchanged several dozen messages a day, even when Ayida and I were out of cell coverage. When it returned I’d always have three or four texts.

“Sure. Is her name Palmela Handerson?”

I was impressed that a woman would know that joke. “Ha ha.”

“So, what do you want to do?”

“I don’t know. One bed. We’re adults. We can probably restrain ourselves.”

“I know I can restrain myself, but I’m afraid I’m probably too hot for you to handle.”

She was hot, but not too hot. That first night there was a lot of awkwardness. We had clearly not been with anyone in some time, but once we got going, and as our cross-Maritimes journey continued for ten days, we got used to each other’s rhythms and needs. We had sex every night, so by the end of it I would have had to say that this was my most sexually rewarding relationship ever. And that included the brief engagement I’d had back in college, and my short and unhappy marriage when I’d first started teaching.

At the end of the trip, back at Stanfield International Airport, it was hard to say goodbye.

“Did that guy ever text you?” I asked as we were packing up Ayida’s Nova Scotia wines into her luggage, padding it with all her clothes in the Tim Horton’s parking lot just before getting to the terminal.

“What guy?”

“Your one date boyfriend.”

“Oh. Yeah, a couple of times. He’s picking me up at the airport. Take me for dinner. Probably go back to my place after.”

“Wow. Cold.”

“Yup. You? How’s Palmela? You’ve been texting her an awful lot.”

I hadn’t realized she’d noticed, but I guess I hadn’t been actually hiding it that much. At various meals or picture stops, or pretty much any time I wasn’t driving, I was corresponding ever more with Maryann. She was having some problems at a summer music camp she was teaching on campus and since I was an experienced teacher she figured I might have some tips. I did. I also made many excuses for inquiring how everything was going. She made many excuses for asking me ever more ridiculous teaching related questions. There was no way in hell for example that she possibly could have had the wheelchair bound, Autistic, Tourette’s syndrome sufferer who was also a flute prodigy in her music camp at SAU. There was something going on between us all the while I was on the road with Ayida. I figured after I returned to Saint John I’d have to make a trip to Williamstown to check on the situation.

“She’s fine.”

“Remember, she can’t possibly be as good as me.” “I suppose not.”

“Suppose? After last night, you still have doubts?”

The previous night had been extra special since both of us knew very well that it was our last night.

“No. No doubts. It’s been a great trip.” “Yeah, I had a good time.” She winked.

She had me drop her off at the Departures level and not come in to the airport with her.

“I’m a nervous flyer. I’d hate to have you see me go through my pre-boarding routine,” she lied lamely.

“Thanks for a wonderful time.”

“Anytime. I’m thinking of Newfoundland next summer. Wanna join me?” “How can I say no?”

And she was away.

I stepped on the gas and made it to Saint John in three hours, and then to Williamstown in about 45 minutes after a brief pit stop at my place to get some new clothes. I’d been away for ten days and had a suitcase full of laundry after all.

4.

Our family home, or I should say Mike’s place since Mom’s death, was hopping when I arrived, especially for a Tuesday night. The bastard was having a party and hadn’t even invited me. Not that I would have gone anyway, but it’s always nice to be invited. I even double-checked Facebook for an event invite.

There was none.

As soon as I walked in through the screened porch and saw all the people of various ages and in various stages of inebriation lounging all over my parents’ house, I was intrigued. I instantly scanned the room for people I knew, but I soon discovered that I was really only looking for one person. She didn’t seem to be there, at least not on the ground floor. Neither was Mike anywhere to be seen. I did find several old friends, though.

“Kevin!” I heard. This could only be the bellow of the larger than life Jamie Stevenson, my formerly best friend in the whole wide world, but a guy who’d never left Williamstown, despite having the second highest GPA in our graduating class. He was driving cab in our small town. Well, he owned his own small taxi company, he’d often reminded me, so he was doing pretty well, but I was personally disappointed with his relatively low achievements. We’d grown apart even though Saint John was only an hour away from our hometown. In the first few years of my life in the Port City I’d occasionally seen Jamie when he had customers to bring to the Saint John airport or business people to pick up and deliver to the Algonquin or something, but after a while we weren’t even seeing each other then. Life got in the way. He’d grown a large belly to go along with his large frame, and had let his hair grow long and his beard all scraggly.

“Kevin!” He repeated, opening his big arms wide into a giant hug. I let myself be bear-hugged by this beast of a man.

“What’s up, Little Brother?” he continued.

“You haven’t called me that in years, Jay.”

“Ah, but brothers are never strangers, right?”

“Sure.”

“So, what’s going on?”

“I don’t know, man. I guess not much. You know, summer break.”

“Yeah, I don’t know anything about breaks in summer. That’s my busiest time. Tonight’s my night off because it’s Tuesday. Your brother decided to throw this shindig in my honour.”

“Yours?”

“Yeah. I’m getting married!” “Really?”

“You hadn’t heard?”

I guess I’d seen something or other on Facebook, but couldn’t remember many details.

“Yeah,” I mumbled. “Congrats.”

“There she is,” he practically screamed, looking towards someone who was coming in behind me. “The woman of my dreams!”

I turned to look hoping it wouldn’t be Maryann. To my utter shock, it was. Luckily, there was another woman with her, and since I remembered Mike telling me Maryann was married I knew she couldn’t be engaged to Jamie, so it had to be the other woman.

Indeed, as I turned to look at them, both of the women broke out into big smiles. Maryann’s, I quickly realized, was for me, but the other woman’s was for Jamie. She ran into his arms and was smothered by the bear hug from which I’d just recently escaped. Jamie stumbling towards her and her falling into his grasp kind of forced Maryann and me towards each other as well and we practically fell into one another in trying to get out of the engaged couple’s way.

“Hey!” she exclaimed, a look of utter delight on her face.

“Hi!” I tried to mirror the excitement. Not that I wasn’t feeling it, I was, but I just didn’t know where we were. I had no idea what her relationship was with my brother, her husband, and certainly not with me.

“How are you? How was the trip?”

“Good, Maryann, Good! I’m great. Even better now,” I tried to sound cool, but knew very well it was dorky. “How are you doing?”

“Good.”

“How’s the workshop?”

“Oh, it’s over. That was last week. This week I have off. Next week I have another group. Older kids.”

“Right.”

Jamie and his girlfriend had forgotten about us and wandered off in the direction of the bar which was near the kitchen, so Maryann and I had a little moment of solitude just inside the door from the porch. I took her all in. She looked fantastic. Her jeans were tight and her simple black top was cut in such a way that it revealed and hid what it needed to.

“You look fantastic,” I started and then I was interrupted by the very loud and overbearing voice of my idiot brother coming out of the shadows deeper in the house from the direction of the stairs.

“My two favourite people! Together at last!”

He came out of the shadows carrying two bottles of beer, and stumbled towards us. He was very drunk and Michael didn’t tend to drink very much as a rule.

“How are you two?” he asked, jovially.

“Fine, Mike,” Maryann replied, somewhat coldly it seemed to me. Mike didn’t notice.

“Good. Great. I’m so glad you’re here. And you, Little Brother! I’m glad you made it too. You got my invite?” I hated that he called me that. True, I was smaller than him, but he was younger.

“No.“ I started, but he wasn’t listening.

He handed one of the beer bottles to Maryann and gestured for me to go grab one from the kitchen.

“I gotta go entertain my guests, but you should feel at home. This is your house too, after all!” He laughed in a very loud and fake way. Then he draped his arm around Maryann and dragged her with him into another room in the house.

I withdrew to the kitchen where I had a quick bite and a Moosehead, and where I had a chance to properly meet Jamie’s fiancée. Her name was Ola and she was from one of the several Polish families in town who had arrived in the 80s. I couldn’t remember her last name, but she said I’d gone to school with one of her brothers, or at least that Jamie had so she assumed I did too. She was younger than us, but just by a couple of years. She was a very attractive, short haired brunette with a petite figure and slight stoop. Her face looked like she’d had work done, but you could never be sure with Eastern European women. We had a pleasant conversation for an indeterminate period of time.

Eventually, I made my way into the living room where there was loud music playing on my parents’ old stereo, but by the time I came in, there was hardly anyone in that room. I saw in the darkness one couple making out on the couch, and so I figured it was no big deal to interrupt them. The music that was playing was some shit I didn’t recognize so I made my way over to my parents’ extensive CD collection and I put on The Beatles White Album, always a favourite of mine, and sat down in my Dad’s old chair. The couple’s moans and groans were a bit of a distraction, but I blocked them out as best I could.

I must have drifted off during “Dear Prudence,” I guess I was tired from the ten day and eight-night road trip, and needed some rest. By the time I came to around at “Why Don’t We Do It In The Road,” the moaning couple was gone and instead Maryann was sitting on a footstool in front of me, staring at me.

“Hey,” I said, sleepily. “Hi.”

I wanted again to just lean forward into her and kiss her with all my might, but I was too groggy, and I just stared at her, and she started singing along with Paul: “no-one will be watching us, // Why don’t we do it in the road! Wheeeeeeee--”

And then I did it. I leaned in, put my lips on hers, my arms around her shoulders, and I kissed her to the best of my abilities.

The kiss lasted until almost the end of “Julia.” And time seemed to stand still and stretch into infinity for the duration of “I Will” and at least half of John’s lament for his mother.

Finally, when we separated, and she leaned back ever so slightly and wiped her lips with a finger that was no longer bandaged, her eyes grew big in the darkness and seemed to pierce into my soul.

I was about to say I’m sorry, but she spoke first.

“Wow.” She said. Just that simple and unoriginal mono-syllable. “Yeah. I’m sorry.”

“Why?” “Well, you.”

“Is it Mike or my husband that’s making you feel sorry?”

This wasn’t said unkindly, but rather inquisitively, I thought. Still, I was taken aback. “Both,” I said after a moment.

She got up and went to change the CD. I prayed silently that she would put on Disc 2 and she did. I thought she’d start singing Birthday, but she didn’t. She sat back down at my feet as it were, and turned her head to the side and continued to stare at me with those otherworldly emerald eyes.

“You are so beautiful,” I said, since she wasn’t saying anything. This drew a smile.

“Hardly,” she said after a sort of snort. “No, I mean it. Your eyes…”

“Emerald eyes” she whispered. “Yes.”

“That’s what everyone says.” “Then I won’t.”

“Don’t.”

She leaned in, and it seemed that she was going to kiss me this time, but then she withdrew and her body got tight and rigid and she looked past me, behind me, clearly towards someone else.

“Mike,” she said.

I sighed quietly. Of course, it had to be him.

“Hey,” he said, a little less belligerent and effusive now, it seemed than he’d been just a couple of hours ago. “There you are.”

I don’t think he could see me from where he was standing. He probably assumed the chair was unoccupied, because it was a big wingback and I’m a small guy, and nobody tends to sit in Dad’s chair. It sort of has a position of respect, like a throne, or the Pope’s seat on an altar. All our friends know this is Mr. Malone’s seat and nobody sits in it, even though Dad’s been gone seven years. Family members sit there sometimes, but no strangers ever do.

“Here I am,” she smiled. “Where did you go?”

“I needed a drink.”

She stood up and walked to my left and towards my brother, as if she was trying to prevent him from seeing that I was in that chair.

“You didn’t get one?” “Not yet.”

“Well, let me go and get you one. Or come with me.” “I’m listening to The Beatles.”

“Ah. I didn’t know you were a fan.” “How can you not be?”

“Meh. Take it or leave it,” my crazy brother shrugged. I never understood how he could have come from the same parents as my sisters and I and not have a love of The Beatles. It was one of many reasons we always thought he was adopted. “Come on.”

Maryann gave me a quick look as she walked by me, and she leaned on the armchair a little, managing to squeeze my arm with her small strong hand. It was like she was sending me a signal. I’ll be back, it seemed to say.

She went with my brother to the kitchen. Moments later she was back with a drink. He wasn’t with her. She crouched down in front of me again. “Everybody’s Got Something to Hide (Except for Me and My Monkey)” was playing. Why did it feel like the song was telling me what was going on in my world?

“Hey,” she said. “He wants me to go upstairs with him, of course.” “Why?”

“Kevin!” She gave me a look like I was the most naïve and innocent boy in the world. Of course. “Why do you think?”

“And you’re going to?” “Well, we are kind of dating.”

“You are?”

“Yeah. I thought you knew.” “I guessed.”

“Not for long, though. I’m going to break it off with him. I can’t really date anyone while I’m still married. That shouldn’t be too much longer, but it turns out divorces do take time.”

“I know.”

“Of course. I’m sorry.” “It’s fine.”

“You understand?”

I grabbed her hand above the wrist, just about where she’d grabbed mine a few minutes before. “You won’t sleep with him again, will you?”

“No.” She said very quickly, a little too quickly, and her green eyes darted away just for a fraction of a second, and I knew she was lying.

“That kiss--”

“--was magical,” she finished my thought perfectly. “Like the fireworks.” “Yes.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow. Are you staying here?”

I didn’t want to be in the same house where I knew she’d be fucking my brother. “No, I’m going to Jamie’s.”

“Jamie’s? I think he might be busy tonight.”

“He’s always busy, but he said I could crash there.” “You can stay here.”

“I know, it’s my house. I won’t.”

“OK.” She sighed. She knew that I knew. And she didn’t do anything about it.

“Goodnight.” She said.

“So long, Maryann,” I said, somewhat melodramatically. She didn’t seem to catch on.