The Grown Ups Read online

  Sam shrugged and Suzie laughed without making a sound. “Come on.” She tugged on his hand and before he knew it they were inside her house stumbling down the carpeted stairs to the basement.

  He knew where they were going before they got there, and he knew she would get the box out. This time she set it down on the rumpled bedspread and plopped down beside it in her damp shorts and shirt. Sam had the thought that someone would know they had been down there if they saw the stains left behind by her wet clothes, but then Suzie grabbed his hand again and pulled him onto the bed, the box between them.

  “Go ahead,” she urged. She leaned back against the wall, her eyes half closed, a dreamy look on her face. “Go ahead and open it.”

  The photographs were in the same order as they had been the first time Sam saw them. He searched for something more in the mothers’ faces, but he couldn’t see anything. “What do you think these are from?”

  Suzie exhaled. “I think my father was fucking them and my mother found out.”

  At Suzie’s use of the word fuck Sam felt a twinge in his belly. He swallowed hard but it felt like something was caught in his throat. “I don’t know, Suze” he said, returning the photographs to the box. He had been in the Rosses’ kitchen earlier that evening and Mrs. Ross had given him a Coke. He thought of Mr. Epstein, who worked on Wall Street and made a lot of money. More money, he had heard his father comment to his mother, than probably anyone in the neighborhood.

  Sam heard the box drop to the floor and felt Suzie’s hand on his shoulder. She pushed him back and straddled his left leg, her upper body pressed against his so hard he could feel her breasts, and then their mouths were together again. Sam wondered if she thought his chest felt skinny. He brought his arms around her like he had done this every day of his life. Even though they had only been here once before, it already seemed easier.

  Suzie’s wet T-shirt stuck to Sam’s hands. He searched for a dry place to put them but there was none. He hesitated, but there was no objection from Suzie as his hands found their way under her shirt to her bra strap. His breath caught in his throat as he fumbled with the clasp.

  And then all of a sudden Suzie stopped kissing him and rolled off to the side.

  “I’m sorry,” Sam said quickly. His voice sounded funny to his ears, rough, like he had been coughing.

  Suzie said nothing, and it took Sam a moment to realize she was pulling her shirt above her head and tossing it on the floor. He rolled over on his side and hoisted himself up on his elbow and looked down at Suzie Epstein’s white bra. Her stomach quivered as Sam lowered a hand slowly onto the fabric covering her breast. Sam was grateful for the little bit of distance between their bodies, because the zipper of his jeans was strained tightly and he didn’t know what to do about it. Suzie sighed as he tentatively moved his fingers over the top of her bra and touched her breast, drawing out the small, hard nipple.

  All of a sudden there came a thump from above followed by a scuffle, what sounded like possibly a piece of furniture being knocked over, and then Suzie’s brothers loudly shouting her name. Sam stopped moving.

  Suzie’s eyelids fluttered open. “No,” she groaned. “Damnit.” She sat up and looked for her shirt. Sam rolled onto his back and swept the floor with his hand, hitting the box before finding the shirt. He handed it to her and watched as she jumped off the end of the bed and pulled it over her head. “Don’t move,” she commanded. “I’ll be right back.”

  “But . . .”

  “Seriously, stay.” She turned and ran out of the room. Sam stayed on his back for a moment, remembering the feel of Suzie Epstein’s hard nipple in his fingers, before he slowly rolled off the bed.

  Whatever was happening upstairs wasn’t getting any better. Sam heard several more thumps followed by screaming. He shook his head to clear the images of Suzie on the bed. Sam was standing there so long dreaming of Suzie that he didn’t realize someone had turned into the Epsteins’ driveway. He heard the car door close, keys hit the pavement, mumbling, cursing, and then the retrieval of keys as they jangled together.

  His only choices were to leave through the Epsteins’ driveway and reveal himself or go deeper into the woods to the fort. Without thinking, he put the box away and straightened the bedspread where wet marks crept across the folds of the cloth. He took the pillows and rearranged them so they covered the darker areas before he ran up the cellar stairs and out of the Epsteins’ house.

  Sam’s bike was where he left it and his house was dark. He thought of going back to Peter Chang’s to spend the night, as he had planned, but he didn’t move. He imagined what Suzie would look like when she came back downstairs and saw that Sam was gone. But he didn’t know what else to do.

  When Sam arrived home the next day his father was sitting at the kitchen table staring at the rooster clock on the wall. Sam knew his father hated the rooster clock. “It isn’t even ironic, Elizabeth,” he had said after Sam’s mother insisted on hanging it above the table.

  Sam was sore from sleeping on the floor of the fort and hungry. He stood at the open refrigerator forever, but when his father didn’t even reprimand him he finally said, “What’s up, Dad?”

  “Your mother is out.”

  “Okay,” Sam said, slowly grabbing a piece of cheese and shutting the door. “Is she shopping? ’Cause there isn’t any food.”

  “Huh?”

  Sam rubbed his stomach. “No food.” He pointed at the refrigerator.

  His dad blinked at him and then looked back at the rooster. Sam’s older brother, Michael, was at a science camp at Johns Hopkins for brilliant kids who would one day save the world. Michael had been gone since the beginning of the summer and sometimes Sam felt like their father was just waiting for him to get home.

  Sam went to his room and fell back against the bed. He couldn’t stop thinking about how mad Suzie Epstein probably was about finding him gone. He curled up on his side, his mouth tasting like crud from the cheese. He thought about getting up and taking a shower and brushing his teeth and going to the pool. Then he heard a car door slam. His mother, he hoped, back from the store. Sam peered out his bedroom window, which faced the street.

  His mother was sitting in the car, staring at the house. The engine was off and the driver’s side door was open, yet her hands were still on the steering wheel. She checked something in the rearview mirror, and that was when Sam saw that Mrs. Epstein was out in her front yard, pulling weeds from around the mailbox and planting flowers. Suzie was standing in the driveway in shorts and a bikini top, leaning against her bike and talking to her mother. A towel was wrapped around her handlebars.

  Slowly, Sam’s mother got out of the car. She took several steps toward the end of the driveway and called out, “How are you, Sarah?”

  Mrs. Epstein glanced up, a clump of dirt in her hand. Suzie looked at Sam’s mother and then stared hard at her feet, long and thin in black flip-flops.

  Sam’s mother waited a few minutes, and when neither Mrs. Epstein nor Suzie responded, she turned away. She moved toward the door of her house, Sam’s house, like a heavy person who has to stop to catch her breath between steps. It took Sam a few minutes to realize that wherever his mother had been that morning, there hadn’t been groceries involved.

  At the pool Sam inhaled two hot dogs and an order of fries and listened to Peter Chang and Johnny Ross talk about the munchies. They claimed to have had the munchies so bad the night before that they had eaten three frozen pizzas after Bella, Ruthie, and Mindy had left. They elbowed each other in the ribs and talked about how they had been feeling the love from the girls, and Sam’s fingers twitched thinking of his hand on Suzie’s bra.

  When the girls arrived at the pool Suzie was with them. Sam was in the deep end, hanging out underneath the diving board. She jumped in and swam the length of the pool underwater, grabbing his foot before she surfaced.

  “Hey,” she said when she came up for air.

  “Hey.” Sam paused. “So you know, I’m not so
me kind of jerk who just leaves.”

  “You’re forgiven.” Suzie smiled. “Seriously. It was probably good you left.”

  “Oh, oh. Great.” Sam wondered if she meant she wanted him to leave or that he had done the right thing. His stomach clenched. He had no idea all of this was so complicated. He waited, unsure of what to say next.

  Suzie smiled again. “Great? So, you weren’t having a good time?”

  “Of course, yes. Yes I was. I don’t want you to get in trouble.”

  “I was thinking . . .”

  “About?”

  “Well, you. Us. And how we need to maybe make a plan?”

  “A plan?” It dawned on Sam that maybe Suzie was talking about a date. “Like going out?”

  Suzie sighed. “How about you meet me in the fort tonight? Around ten?”

  “The fort,” Sam answered slowly. He didn’t want to tell her he’d been in the fort the night before because he was scared to walk through her driveway. As he was about to answer, Suzie dove back underwater and swam quickly toward the girls.

  Neither of his parents was home for dinner and both cars were gone. Usually when they went out his mother left a meal in the fridge or money for pizza, but those things hadn’t happened tonight. So Sam went over to Peter Chang’s, where Mrs. Chang was just taking a sheet of Tater Tots out of the oven. Mrs. Chang liked to feed all of them and always welcomed them at mealtimes. She was afraid that Peter was lonely, since he was an only child.

  The three of them polished off cheeseburgers and the Tater Tots, and then Sam and Peter went down to the basement. Johnny Ross came over with a half bottle of vodka. They shared the remains until it was gone, and Sam recalled seeing Mrs. Epstein wince after she drank that juice-glassful.

  At quarter to ten Sam told Peter and Johnny he had to be home early and headed to the fort. He swept the leaves out with his hands and kicked himself that he hadn’t thought to bring a blanket or something soft. He ran his fingers over the initials he and his friends had carved into the sides with a pocketknife and tried hard to remember what it felt like to be ten. S.T., P.C., F.C., S.W., and J.R. Sam recalled how they hadn’t let the girls carve their initials because they hadn’t done any of the work. It felt like a lifetime ago.

  Suzie arrived with a tightly rolled joint, another one from Bella’s mom’s stash. She was wearing a black top that tied around her neck, leaving her back bare. Sam’s mouth was dry at the thought that if he undid that knot, Suzie Epstein would be naked from the waist up.

  They smoked half the joint, maybe less, before Suzie climbed into his lap and they were kissing and touching like the night before. When Sam shifted position because of the situation in his pants, Suzie batted her hand against him and Sam groaned out loud and was immediately embarrassed. “I need to catch my breath, Suzie, okay?” he said.

  Suzie rolled off of Sam, sat up, and leaned against the opposite wall of the fort with her legs stretched out in front of her. Her hair was wild, a tangle of black curls, and her skin looked red from where he had kissed her. “Just so you know,” she said, “I don’t need to stop.”

  Sam laughed. He guessed it was easier in some ways to be a girl. “Well, I do.”

  “I’m aware.” She smiled again and picked up the joint and the matches off the floor. “Want to smoke the rest?” She didn’t wait for his response to light the joint and take the first hit.

  They passed it back and forth until it was a tiny nub burning their fingers. Sam closed his eyes; the pot had calmed him down.

  “So I guess I was wrong. You don’t need the pictures to get excited, huh?”

  “What? Your father’s pictures?”

  “I figured that’s what guys need, right? Isn’t that why they make those magazines with all those girls spreading their legs?”

  “Suzie, come on.” Sam thought of the magazines he and Johnny Ross had found. He thought the smiles on the faces of the naked women had been creepy, especially the ones who had their hands down between their legs. He didn’t want to think of Suzie like that.

  “Okay.” Suzie’s voice sounded small and sad. Sam opened his eyes. She was staring at him in the dark, her face unreadable. “Would you just hold me?” she asked. “I think I just want a hug.”

  Sam nodded and she crawled across the small space between them. Sam opened his arms and she curled up in the hollow, her head on his chest. He held her hard.

  Two weeks before school started the Epsteins sold their house. Suzie and Sam were in the basement on the bed when she told him. Suzie was naked from the waist up and Sam was still distracted by the sight and feel and taste of her breasts even though they had been his for the better part of the afternoon, ever since Mrs. Epstein had taken the boys to Playland. His bathing trunks were stuck to his leg; he would have to jump in the pool to wash up before he went home.

  Sam’s chest was heaving still from the exertion of the afternoon when Suzie told him she was moving to somewhere in Massachusetts.

  “I don’t understand,” Sam said. Massachusetts might as well have been the moon from where he lived in Rye.

  “You knew this wouldn’t last forever.”

  “What? Us?” Sam was confused. He had been beginning to think this might be what it felt like to be in love. He’d been picturing them going through high school together.

  “We’ve had fun.” Suzie ran a finger up his inner thigh. “More fun than I thought we would.”

  “When are you leaving?”

  “Well, my father is coming to get us in a few days.”

  “Your father?”

  Suzie sat up against the headboard. “I think he and my mom are going to try again.”

  “What?” Sam shook his head.

  “My father is going to take me and my brothers on a vacation to Cape Cod while my mother supervises the movers. Then she’s going to meet us out there and I guess we’ll see how it goes.”

  “Wow. I thought he hated her.” Sam swallowed hard. “I thought she hated him too. I guess you never know, huh?”

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  Sam looked over at Suzie’s breasts and wondered how long it would be before he would see them again. He pushed his face between them and inhaled. Suzie put her hand on the back of his head and cradled it before Sam lifted it off her chest and placed his mouth over one perfect brown nipple and then the other. When he pulled away he said, “I don’t want to say goodbye.” But he wasn’t sure if he was talking more about Suzie or her breasts.

  The entire neighborhood heard Mr. Epstein’s Mercedes rumble through the streets. Sam was sitting on his front porch watching the activity at the Epsteins’ and waiting for his last chance to see Suzie. Bella, Ruthie, and Mindy had occupied her entire morning with breakfast and a long, tearful goodbye on the front lawn.

  This Mercedes was a newer model: candy apple red, with a sunroof. If men bought sports cars to signify their single status, Sam wasn’t sure what this car said about Mr. Epstein’s current bid to take back his family. When Mr. Epstein got out of the car he very carefully avoided looking anywhere, even across the street at Sam’s house. He walked with his head down, waved at the gaggle of crying girls, and opened his front door as if he had never left.

  When Bella, Ruthie, and Mindy finally departed, Suzie stood in her front yard and looked across at Sam. She stared a really long time, neither smiling nor frowning, and so Sam stood up, unsure of whether she had seen him. Then she waved and held up her finger, disappearing into her house. When she emerged she walked purposefully down the driveway and across the street.

  “You have to promise me something,” she said as she stood on the top step of the porch, bouncing lightly on the balls of her feet. She was slightly breathless.

  “What?”

  “You won’t open this until I’m gone.” She handed Sam a square white envelope. “Please.”

  Sam was touched that she had written him a letter. He felt stupid for not doing the same. He probably should have gotten her something too, maybe a necklace o
r bracelet. “I don’t have anything for you . . . give me your address so I can send you something.”

  When Suzie smiled she looked like her mother after Mr. Epstein had first moved out: weary, and tired of carrying around so many secrets. “It’s okay. Just promise me. Okay?”

  Sam took the envelope. “Sure. But you have to tell me one thing.”

  “What?”

  “Why did you choose me?”

  Suzie blinked. “Because you had as much to lose as I did.” She threw herself against Sam, her arms tightly wrapped around his neck, kissed him somewhere between his ear and his neck, and then let go. “Goodbye, Sam Turner.”

  “Goodbye, Suzie Epstein.” Sam was confused. Suzie always seemed so confident, and he felt foolish for never quite knowing what was expected. If he asked now what she meant, did it really matter?

  Suzie turned and skittered down the steps and across the grass to her house. She didn’t look back. Sam watched as the Epsteins loaded up the trunk and Suzie and her brothers jockeyed for the front seat, Suzie ultimately ended up sitting in the back with the youngest of her two brothers. Mrs. Epstein came running out of the house with a cooler. She handed it in the window to Mr. Epstein and lingered on his side a moment longer. As she walked backward Mr. Epstein tooted the horn and opened the sunroof. Suzie and her brothers stuck out their hands and waved to Mrs. Epstein.

  Sam stared at the envelope. He had never been good at waiting for anything. He ripped open the seal quickly and the contents—photographs, not a letter—spilled onto the floor. As he bent over to pick them up he caught sight of the bikes carrying Peter Chang, Johnny Ross, Frankie Cole, and Stephen Winters as they rounded the corner, their tires squeaking against the hot pavement as they pedaled to catch up with Mr. Epstein’s Mercedes.

  Sam stood slowly, so it took him longer than it should have to realize that what he was holding in his hand were pictures of his mother smiling widely into the lens of Mr. Epstein’s camera. He looked up just as Suzie, her body half out the sunroof of the Mercedes, began tossing more photos onto the street.