Free The Middlesteins by Jami Attenberg Page B

strip mall; a drive-through hot dog
     stand, which he contemplated visiting, only he didn’t want hot dog breath; the high
     school his grandkids would attend in two years, and where he hoped he would see them
     graduate—they were both so bright, he bragged about them to everyone he knew, they
     were the best thing that had happened to their family in a long time and he was going
     to fight till the end to make sure he got to have them in his life, his daughter-in-law
     be damned—and then, after exactly seven minutes, he turned around and headed back
     to Tracy’s condo, past the sparkling, bubbling fountain in front, parking in a guest
     spot as instructed, and finally hustling his way up to her apartment. He was more
     eager than he had realized, and he found himself out of breath before he reached the
     last flight of stairs. Is this really happening? he asked himself. Yes, it is.
    She greeted him with a kiss on the cheek and a gentle hand on his arm. She was wearing
     this sort of half-slip kind of top. It looked like lingerie but also it could just
     be a really nice shirt—what did he know about fashion? It was pink, and she had blown
     her black hair straight, so it was even longer than usual. The black fell against
     the pink silkiness, and it looked phenomenal. His penis grew slightly hard.
    Inside, a plinky jazz song played. Her apartment was three times the size of his. Can I even afford her? It was done up in a frilly decor, with a hodgepodge of antiques that looked as if
     she had gone from house to house over a series of decades and plucked just one piece
     of furniture from each: There was a long, narrow, modern glass kitchen table with
     plastic white chairs, and a molded plywood chair next to a shag rug, a diner-style
     table in the coffee nook, a club chair, a Mission oak armoire, piece after piece jammed
     next to one another, and that was just in the first room he entered. In the middle
     of it all was a giant red velvet fainting couch, and it was there that Tracy directed
     him to sit. She probably lay on it all the time, he thought, and he pictured her lying
     on it dramatically, little puffs of breath emanating slowly from her mouth.
    “This is a nice place,” he said.
    “Thanks,” she said. “I inherited it.”
    On a tiny bronze coffee table next to the couch, there was a framed picture of her
     with a white dog. Middlestein pointed to it. “Adorable,” he said.
    “She was,” said Tracy. “Mitzi died a year ago.” She jutted out her lower lip and made
     a sad face. “It was sad,” she said. “I’m saving up to buy a new one, but they’re so
     expensive. She was a bichon frisé. I always have bichons frisés. I’ve had three. You
     have to go through a breeder, you know. You should never use a pet store.”
    “Oh, yeah, why not?” he said.
    “They’re so mean to the puppies,” she said, and she looked sincerely distressed. She
     snapped out of it almost instantly. “Let’s not talk about this. It’s depressing. Let’s
     talk about happy things. Like you and me.” She put one hand on his knee and the other
     in his hand. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to stay away. I had a feeling about you.”
     She kissed him.
    This was an out-of-sight kiss for Middlestein for two reasons: one, because he was
     not expecting it, and second, because that Tracy was a phenomenal kisser. She had
     soft but firm lips, and she was good at reading men and knew instinctively what they
     wanted, whether they wanted to be in charge or whether she needed to take control.
     She made gentle noises of joy, or dark dirty laughs, whatever she thought they needed
     to hear. This translated into the bedroom of course, too. She’d be on top, bottom,
     sideways, whatever. She hadn’t enjoyed sex in years, what did she care anyway? Much
     older men had ground that desire out of her since she’d been a teenager. She just
     wanted a new dog. Why hadn’t anyone bought her a dog yet? Maybe this guy would