Posted by PK on December 21, 2001 at 18:50:03:
After lunch, chores all done, Nick decided to spend the afternoon with Cory. It bothered him a
little bit that he hadn't seen Sue or Clara for a while, but not enough for him to do anything
about it. Jill wanted to come along and to his own surprise he didn't mind. They went fishing.
At least, he and Cory did, he in his waders and she barefoot in midstream. Jill stayed on the
bank and amused herself helping out or just lounged. Being with his twin and girlfriend in
such a mood of idle and easy harmony banished his worries for a while. The day was time
out of time. The sun on the water, wind in the trees, Cory's laughter, the sight of her hauling
fish onto the bank, a vision in ragged wet denim...
Dreamtime.
Going home, Cory parted from him with a familar kiss. She was his, or was he hers? Jill
noted it all. They continued down the road, Nick carrying his share of the catch in a burlap
bag Cory had lent him.
"You like her a lot, don't you?"
Nick woke up halfway. "Yeah..."
"Gonna marry her?" She grinned, teasing but not nastily.
"Yes," he said.
"Cool," she said. "I like her too. A lot."
Dinner at home was like coming down from heaven. The cares of the world were all here
waiting. Nobody else seemed to be aware of it, but tension crept back in to Nick's euphoria.
He could sense an atmosphere, but didn't know whether it was just his imagination until his
mother spoke. The meatloaf, baked potatoes and greens had gone down well enough, his
fish were in the freezer ( he'd had to promise to clean them himself) and nothing was amiss.
"Have you thought any more about Thanksgiving?" was alll she said, to Tom. All the kids
froze.
Tom considered this with an elaborate show of indifference.
"I don't know," he said. "I thought we could invite the Johnsons over? And the kids." He
meant their grown up daughters
"Us? I mean..." Janice was flustered. She knew they couldn't afford the traditional
Thanksgiving meal, not if so many guests were coming. "We can't." She burned with shame.
"What could we give them?"
Tom smiled. "I thought we'd roast you," he said.
You could have heard a pin drop, but what you would have heard if you'd been there was the
sound of Janice's fork clattering off the plate and onto the floor. She didn't pick it up. Julie,
being imperturbable, made no sound, Jill gasped audibly and Marcia exchanged a look with
Nick that the others didn't notice.
"But you said...." Janice started. She wanted to say, you always said you'd never roast me
until we could do it in style, but she couldn't, not in front of the kids.
"Come on out," said Tom. "I want to show you something." He led the way over to the
garage, everyone trooping after him. Jill hissed a question at Nick, which he answered with a
shake of the head. Once in there, Tom took up position next to a tarpaulin thrown over a
large object.
"Here it is," he said, pulling it off with a flourish. Everyone stared.
The J-3000 gleamed in the light. Every part of it had been shined, polished and painted until
it glowed.
"It's a Jessica," he said. This was a little like saying 'it's a Rolls Royce'. Old fashioned and
expensive, hard to restore but magnificent when in full working order. Few of the originals
had survived in private hands, they were a commercial flop once cannibalism became
commonplace and cheaper devices were produced. "I got it for...well, less than it was worth.
It was disused and the owner couldn't afford to restore it..." he shrugged off the details, the
weeks of hard work. "It's working now. Nick helped me finish and test it. It's for you." He
beamed proudly, a little shyly.
Janice was caught between awe and doubt. "It really works?" she blurted.
"It works, Mom," said Nick reassuringly. "We've done everything but skewer somebody for
real. Marcy helped. Tell 'er, sis."
"It's true, I did," said Marcia. "I was on it." She was sharing in the glory of the moment. "Mom,
if they'd pushed the button on me I'd'a been shishkebab. It'll work, I bet." She nodded
emphatically, with the conviction of experience.
"You don't have to, hon," said Tom, his confidence wavering just a little. He could have just
told her to, it would have been unthinkable for her to refuse her husband under the
circumstances. She glanced at Jill, knowing what it would mean to her. She was glaring at
her brother, mouthing 'you didn't TELL me' silently until she caught her mother's eye.
"Dad's right, Mom," she said, "It's okay if you don't want to." She was the one who had to say
it.
Janice smiled her thanks. She looked at Tom again, and made her decision. Not because
she felt pressured, but because it was time to simply have faith in him.
"It's beautiful," she said. She went over to her husband and kissed him. "Now, we've got
things to do. We'll need to organise the guest list and the invitations. We'll need extra
potatoes for baking, salad, seasonings, the makings for stuffing....." She was smiling through
tears. "I love you," she whispered in Tom's ear.
The days leading up to Thanksgiving were ones of happy anticipation, and a buzz of
organisation and social activity. It wasn't enough to simply issue invitations, they had to be
accompanied by long phone conversations between the female members of the family and
visits to discuss the upcoming event. Much trading of recipies went on, as if the basics of
preparation weren't already well known. Amelia Johnson dropped round more than once and
was made welcome. Now that Janice had a date for her own roasting, her presence was no
longer a silent reproach. In recent weeks, Amelia had visited less frequently out of tact, a fact
which Janice had not failed to notive and appreciate. Now she could take the opportunity to
groom the younger woman for her new role.
"Don't forget to make sure he comes to meals on time," she said as they chatted over coffee
one morning. "The kids will help if you ask them. If you don't, he'll just fiddle with his gadgets
in the garage until he's hungry and grab anything he can heat up fast. He'd live on pizza,
cookies and coffee if I let him. He needs greens and good red meat, but he won't eat liver."
She fetched her own book of cookery from a shelf next to a kitchen cabinet. "This will help."
"Thanks," said Amelia, but she looked a little absent.
"What's wrong?" Janice asked.
"I dunno," the girl muttered. "I mean, I'm really excited about it but it's all real now. I don't
know if I can cut it. You've been doing this for years, you're gonna be a hard act to follow."
Janice smiled. "Don't worry," she said. "Tom's a good man, he won't expect you to be me.
Just trust him, do your best and take things as they come. You'll do fine."
"You think so?" Amelia brightened.
Janice patted her hand. "I'm sure of it."
"What if he won't have me? I'm pretty sure he likes me, but..."
Janice sighed inwardly. This would all have been much easier if Tom had only had an affair
with Amelia. It wasn't strictly moral to do that, but it was the tacitly accepted practice. Not for
Tom, of course. It wasn't that he didn't find the girl attractive. He just wouldn't bed another
woman while she lived. Of course Amelia was no rocket scientist but she didn't lack a
woman's natural intuition about about relationships, she must know why. It was probably why
she' d been attracted to Tom in the first place.
"He likes you," she said. "Trust me on that. Just come to the party and go with your instincts.
You'll have a good time"
Amelia smiled wickedly. Chancing it, she asked, "What's he like in the sack?", then retracted.
"Sorry, I shouldn't..."
Janice wasn't offended. "Oh, he's good." She remembered with immense satisfaction. "You'll
see. Still, a few pointers wouldn't hurt..."
Happily, they got into girl talk until it was time for Janice to cook dinner.
Nick was watching an illegal channel on TV when Jill finally stopped sulking about being left
out of the plan. It was a BBC world service show on geopolitics, he had personal reasons for
his interest.
Happy, comfortable and complacent, little Middle America had hardly been affected by the
Anglo-Soviet war, despite some empty sabre-rattling by the increasingly powerless Congress.
It was a source of shame to Nick. The British had won, as they always did, with the help of
the New Commonwealth and their Japanese allies. The economic collapse of the European
Union had left them independent again, probably to their relief, and only Germany had
contributed any real help from the continent. The Russians hadn't been stupid enough to use
nukes and start the final war which might have woken America up, so 'The Godless
Commies', as some diehard Americans still thought of them, were now a protectorate of the
British Crown. The West Indies had taken serious damage from the related wars in South
America and after a belated change of Government, some of the dispossessed had moved to
the British Isles, Australia or North America, or what was left of it after the various
secessions. The collapse of the United States had been predicted by doomsayers for years
but nobody had believed it would really happen until Hawaii and Alaska had gone to the
Aussies and the Canadians.
Thank God it couldn't happen here, thought Nick as he suffered through the scenes of
carnage.
"Hey, Bro," said Jill as she slipped through the door.
Nick switched the set off. "Hi, sis," he said.
Corinne watched the sun go down from her treehouse. She rarely slept in the main house any
more. As the light faded she lit her lamps and read by candlelight until her eyes got tired. She
curled up in her nest and slept.
Janice slipped out of bed to visit the bathroom, leaving Tom asleep. On an impulse, she went
downstairs and to the garage. In the artificial light she pored over the machine that would turn
her into meat. She ran her hands over it, pictured herself captured in its embrace. It was an
experience she couldn't put a name to. Shaking her head, she went back to the bedroom and
eased back under the covers, into the warmth of her husband's arms. He let her in without
waking.
Jill's composure crumbled. "It's my fault," she said.
"What is?"
"Mom. What's happening. All of it. I'm a rotten kid." She shuddered in self loathing. Her
selfishness, as she saw it, had hurt her family.
"Come here," said Nick. He drew her down to the bed and hugged her. "It's not you. It's just
the way it is."
Jill gave in and cried while Nick held her and stroked her hair. Eventually she subsided, her
eyes red and puffy. She didn't want to be alone, so she slept with her brother. Chastely, of
course.
Finally, Thanksgiving Day dawned. Janice got moving almost immediately after breakfast,
which she barely touched herself. There were last minute preparations to be made, and all
her housewifely instincts insisted that she had to make sure everything got done, properly
and on time. She had always been the sort of woman to make a lot of fuss about party
preparations, so it was hardly surprising that she should be extra careful about her last one. If
anything went wrong she would simply die of embarrassment. Accordingly, she supervised
the girls as they prepared salad, mixed sauces and washed potatoes. She was so keyed up
she was driving them crazy, until Tom came in. He and Nick had been getting things ready in
the yard and she had left them alone. That was man's work.
"Honey," he said grabbing her gently but firmly by the shoulders, "Slow down. The girls know
what to do, everything is going to be fine. This is your day, relax and enjoy it. Nothing will go
wrong, trust me. Trust all of us."
Janice slumped a little, like an over-inflated tire that's just had a little air let out of it. She
smiled ruefully.
"Sorry, I guess I am a touch keyed up, it's just..." she shrugged.
"I know. But you want to show up this afternoon looking like you've been living on coffee for a
week? Take it easy. Goof off a little, even. Anyway, don't you have an appointment
somewhere?"
"Oh my God..." she tensed up again.
"Easy hon, there's plenty of time. I'll drive you." He showed her his car keys and jiggled them
playfully.
On the way to the beauty salon, Janice did her best to relax. Tom kept up a steady stream of
mundane and quietly amusing chatter, not minding her distraction, and the familiarity of it
soothed her. What the heck, she thought. He's right, it's time I let go. By the time they arrived
she was breathing easily and smiling. Tom sensed her better mood with the intuition acquired
by husbands of long standing. He kissed her quickly on the cheek at the salon door.
"Have a ball," he said. Then he went back to the car to read Popular Mechanics while she
had herself groomed.
Marsha was expecting her, of course, she had booked her appointment for a full body
treatment the day after she'd known she was going to be roasted. It wasn't often she could
afford to do this, and she did enjoy it when she allowed herself the indulgence. She had
offered, half-heartedly, to let the girls do her at home but Tom wouldn't hear of it.
"You of all people should know presentation's an important part of the meal," he'd said,
making a joke of it. In fact he knew that his wife would prefer to make her entrance looking
perfect, and she knew that he did. This time she had ordered the special. Marsha took her to
a private booth where she removed her clothes.
"I think we'll start with the hair," said Marsha, giving her a professional glance. "Spit, pot or
oven? If it's spit you'll want it short..."
"It's the spit for me," said Janice, trying not to sound too obviously proud. Nobody was going
to stew her!
Marsha grinned. "Of course it is, bod like yours." She got to work. First she cut Janice's hair
short and styled it just slightly with the heat resistant gel that would both prevent it burning
and help keep her head cool. The effect was subtle but elegant. Next she shaved her pubis
carefully.
"Don't want any of these in your husband's teeth, huh?"
Wouldn't be the first time, thought Janice and stifled a giggle.
That done, with a series of exotic shavers and skin lotions Marsha removed every last trace
of hair below Janice's neck.
"That's it for the follicles," she pronounced. "Now the nails." Out came another array of tools
and she cut, filed and polished Janice's finger- and toenails to glowing perfection.
Last but not least came the massage. They had a brief discussion on what flavour of oils to
use - Janice had come prepared for this - and then Marsha got started on her. She did not
hurry as this was the deluxe treatment and besides, Janice was an old and valued customer,
even if she did usually get just a haircut or the occasional manicure. Of course, she wouldn't
be coming back, but Marsha took a genuine pride in her work. By the time she was finished,
Janice was relaxed and revitalised.
"Want your nipples rouging? No extra. Edible, of course," she added.
"Thanks, but I don't think so." Janice was too polite to say she thought it a tad vulgar, so she
just said "Not my style, really."
"You're probably right," Marsha opined, eyeing her latest masterwork professionally as she
climbed off the table. "It might be a bit too much. You're a classic. Take a look." She
indicated a full length mirror.
Janice was taken aback by the vision in the glass. It was her, of course, and she had always
known she was nicely made, but now she glowed. She was transfigured, somehow, though
nothing major was different but the shave.
"I guess I'll do,"she said, trying not to preen too immodestly.
"I should think!" said Marsha indignantly. Janice smiled and hugged her briefly.
"Really great job, seriously. You did me proud." They chatted as she dressed.
"What are you having this year, anyway? Or who. Anybody I know?" She knew Marsha's
family only vaguely, but it would have been rude not to ask.
"Cousin Jack's girlfriend, Liz. She volunteered, he said, she's been hot to do it since she
came of age. Gets some of 'em like that. Blonde girl, big hips, not bad looking. Not as good
as you though, don't tell her I said so. I'm doing her next. Family rates."
"I'm sure she'll be lovely." said Janice politely. Back at the car, she got a long drawn out
whistle and a 'Wow!' from Tom.
"Wait till you see me naked," she teased.
So it went driving back, and another round of compliments at the house from the girls. With
the body job, Janice felt she had shed her old persona and her housewife's role, she was
content now to let the others do the scut work. She went out to lounge in a lawn chair while
Tom and Nick built the fire. The first sign of trouble came when Nick came to talk to her. He
offered the compliments she took as her due, then she asked him if Corinne was coming. Of
course she'd been invited, but he hadn't said anything about her lately.
"I don't think so, Mom," he said.
"Why ever not?"
Nick looked uncomfortable. He didn't want to cause trouble but he couldn't lie to her, not
today of all days. He shrugged off a sudden awkwardness. "She thinks you don't like her," he
admitted.