Dinner was pasta in some kind of creamy sauce. Jimmy sat at the head of the table, Laurie at his right and Lacey at his left, Steve and Jean across from each other down the table. Steve was regaling them with a mishap involving his contractor and their new house. Jimmy smiled and nodded. Had Steve always been such a bore? Laurie was alright, a little too round for his tastes. She had the kind of haircut women over 30 get when they decide they don’t care about getting fucked anymore. An “easy care” haircut, mark of a woman who thinks she’s got her man completely tied down. Still, she had a nice smile. Her glass was near empty and he offered her more wine. He topped off Lacey’s glass while he was at it. Get her loose, that was the plan.
“Laurie conks out after a couple glasses of wine,” Steve had told him. “She’ll be in bed by 10, even if we are on vacation.” Jean was the same way. She made a virtue of it, like an old lady. “I don’t have the stamina I used to have,” she’d say, and he’d nod inside while kissing her goodnight. Free time. That was the prize for a married man. Free, unsupervised time. He had nothing to complain about.
He looked at Lacey again. She was wearing the dress he’d bought her, dark green like her eyes, a clingy knit turtleneck with a high waist like she’d outgrown it. He couldn’t see the skirt under the table but he could picture it, falling in loose pleats over her thighs and revealing knobby, childish knees. She’d worn knee socks and mary janes tonight, the perfect schoolgirl outfit. Look away. “It’s started to snow,” said Lacey, and his eyes focused where they’d been resting at random, big flakes outside the window, grey against black where the porch light hit them. “Maybe we can go for a walk after dinner,” he said to the table at large. Lacey kicked his foot in secret agreement while the woman protested that were too full to move an inch, then started talking about dessert.
