Courtney McDermott - How They Spend Their Sundays

How They Spend TheirSundays

stories

Whitepoint Press

San Pedro, California

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Copyright 2013 by CourtneyMcDermott

All rights reserved.

A Whitepoint Press First Edition2013

Cover design by MoniqueCarbajal

Cover photo iStockphoto.com/gdagys

Author photo by LauraMcDermott

Grateful acknowledgment is made tothe original publishers of the following stories in thiscollection: A Bottle Full of Nothing, The DailyPalette (November 2008) and The Secrets of Mothers andDaughters, Sliver of Stone Magazine (October 2012).

Published by Whitepoint Press atSmashwords

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For

My family: Patrick, Laura, Maggieand Quinn

My Peace Corps family

My Basotho family: the Makaras ofMaluba-lube and Me Makabi

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Contents

How They Spend TheirSundays

PARTONE

FagHag in Fuchsia

JOHANN

Johann was throwing a dinner partywithout his wife and sons. Mainly because they didnt know aboutthe party, for Johann had left them to live this other life. He nowmanaged the Sun Hotel in Maseru, close enough to the South Africanborder that he could still smell his old life.

He had picked up the Americansearlier in the day. Cici and Adam he knew from the club, where blowjobs were conducted in bathroom stalls. Heather was a surpriseaddition. She had dined at the hotel restaurant before, and withher auburn hair, she was hard to forget. She laughed a lot, andthough she was straight, she seemed like a good person to invite.This was a party of celebrations, and Johann knew the more people,the better the celebrations. Besides, she was stranded in the citywith nothing to do.

Johann crammed the Americans intohis car next to his boyfriend Z and Belinda, the petite, homelyMosotho who had lived in England for years and only recentlyreturned with an insatiable desire for women. They drove up thewindy road to the Dutch ambassadors house where Johann stayed.Through the hotel he made friends with all the ex-pats and wriggledhis way into house sitting for them when they went onholiday.

The guests were a collage of peoplefrom Johanns history and present life. They all drank champagneand went through the achingly awkward motions of introducing andreintroducing each other. This is how I know so-and-so and we worktogether, or were just together.

The gardens around the pool hadbeen tended with hoarded water, and they shone in waxy greens underthe pool spotlights. Spiky red flowers and a pomegranate tree fromsome other exotic locale pierced the green. Two cars were in thegarage and a third in the driveway. A baby grand piano in theotherwise empty music room, and ice in the freezers, things whichJohann used to impress Z. Z, twenty years younger than Johann, wasthin and beautiful with a large mouth and a round Adams apple. Hewore a pink shirt, sleeves rolled up, and crisp white pants andsandals he had kicked off. Johann massaged hisshoulders.

The Americans mingled easily, andJohann saw the movement of Zs forearm along the edge of the table,his hand hidden. Z sat next to Adam.

The latecomers were the Misters:Mr. Themba and Mr. Porter. Mr. Themba liked to tell jokes. Do youknow what you get when? he said and burst out in raucous laughter.Mr. Porter just smiled and held his hand.

Where are everyones costumes?Mr. Themba said thunderously when he came out onto the patio. Ithought this was a fancy dinner party. Only the very glamorousattire.

Or the very gaudy, Mr. Portersaid under his breath, with the subtle pinched smile of reservedOxford men.

Johann slapped his hands on thetable. Precisely. Its time that I tackle the menu, and the restof you doll up. Well eat in one hour.

They all knew that in African timethis translated into two, so no onebesides Johannmade any motionto move. Even the Americans sat awhile longer. Adam dealt anotherhand of euchre (which he had spent the last twenty minutes tryingto teach them).

Heather slipped into the kitchenwhere Johann was getting a rack of lamb out of the refrigerator. Henodded towards the spice rack. You want to help me mix some thingsup?

Sure. She took down rosemary,basil and black pepper, and they rubbed the spices onto the maroonflesh. Thanks, Johann, for inviting me.

You having a nicetime?

The house is beautiful, and yes, Iam having a nice time.

Johann was not. He was an ugly manwith a double chin, narrow shoulders and a large belly that hungover his Boer shorts (the too-too-short khaki shorts of Afrikanermen, their hairy legs sticking out from underneath the cutoffs,blasted tan from the intense sun). His head was shaved and his skinpockmarked. It was hard seeing him with gorgeous Z.

You making some new friends outthere tonight? he said with a grin as he squeezed lemon over thelamb and put it into the oven.

Yes. Though she soundedunsure.

Im glad you came, Johann toldher.

What was the dinner party incelebration of? Johann told them each to come with their ownpersonal, invented celebration or just to celebrate celebrationssince there werent enough of them, or rather, so many of them thatthey had lost any meaning whatsoever.

Johann beckoned Heather into themaster bedroom, an L-shaped monstrosity that peeled open onto asitting room and a bathroom. His bed was on a dais, and there wereshelves of CDs and books and sculptures. He had an assortment ofcrystals on a nightstand, because he dabbled in that sort of thing,and selected a thin, purple crystal no bigger than hispinky.

Here you go. I always like to givenew friends a token, and this is a South African crystal from nearwhere I used to live.

Heather took it with a smile.Thanks, Johann.

He was forty years old and lonely.Maybe thats why he assembled all of these people together, toentertain in a house that wasnt his own. He reminded himself thathe had been lonely as a married man too.

The kitchen began to fill with thesmells of ginger and ambrosia and seared meat, and the card playerswere getting restless. Z undid his shirt and threw it onto Adamslegs. I think its time to get undressed.

In the master bedroom Z went tochange, and Johann came in to get his vibrant orange suit coat andto pat Z on the butt. Looking good. They embraced in front of thefull-length mirror.

Johann sat to the left of the headof the table. He had put together a beautiful meal, and he knew it.He liked to watch Z eat, because he lifted each morsel delicatelyto his mouth, because he had never gotten food like this before.Johann cooked to show Z that he loved him.

He asked them to all dress up incostume. Heather blazed in the center, and Johann couldnt stopstaring. In the scope of the evening, with the drought a faint cryin the background and the talk of election troubles hushed in thehills, Johann could playact that there were no problems. He wore ablack costume to work, but here he would wear a different costume.For werent they all masquerading the different parts ofthemselves?

When he told his wife he couldntlove her, because he loved men, the sinking of her chin was themost shocking reaction of all. Her face fell, and it was then thatJohann realized that her assumption of his love was the only thingthat had kept it up.

After the dishes had been stackedin the dishwasher and the guests drunk and tucked in bed, Johannslipped into his room. Z was already waiting for him, naked on topof the sheets. He didnt try to think about his own sononly fouryears younger than Z. He forgot about how his wife felt when heslid beside her in bed and kissed her. Z was almost frantic in hiskisses, tender in his hugs. They had never made love before; otherthings they had done plenty of. He spooned into Z. I saw you touchAdam.

So? Friendly touch.

Americans leave. Dont trust themto stick around. And the young ones kiss everyone.