The Smart One Read Online Free PDF Page B

kitchen to look for something to dust with.
    “I meant to take a ride over here during the week to do this,” I explained as I wiped down the countertop. “But I got a little behind.”
    He looked at my backside. “That’s true,” he said, stroking his face, “but you make up for it with your sparkling personality.”
    I stifled a laugh. “Save that for your TV show.” I had readthat Kenny was writing for an awful situation comedy about a teenaged robot.
    “If I ever wrote something that funny they would have fired me instantly.”
    “Oh, right. I forgot. You Burbank types are all frustrated geniuses muzzled by the corporate machine.”
    “Not me. I’m thrilled to be surrounded by moronic sycophants who can suck all the creativity from a room faster than you can say ‘target demographics.’” He opened a cabinet and retrieved a bottle of glass cleaner, which he sprayed on the bay window. “What about you? I heard you’re going to be a teacher. I think that’s perfect for you.”
    Did he mean for a priggish, uptight prude like me? Or was he being genuine? I looked over to try to read his face, but his back was to me.
    “Your parents must be proud,” he added.
    “Ha.”
    He turned to look at me, scratching his chin as if it would help him understand. “What do they think you should be doing?”
    “I don’t know. Marrying a rich guy like Clare did? Perfecting nuclear fusion?”
    “There’s the rub. If you’d been a fuckup in high school like I was, they’d just be happy you were pursuing a career that didn’t have its own section in the penal code.”
    I took the Windex from Kenny and sprayed the Formica kitchen table. “How’s your father?” I asked as I wiped it clean. My parents had told me that Kenny’s father, Sam, had rapidly progressing Alzheimer’s disease, and I wondered if he was aware that his son had emerged from his adolescent rebellion to become a successful adult. I was curious about Kenny’s insights but also wanted to know if he still hated the man.
    “He has more bad days than good ones now,” he said.
    “I’m sorry.”
    “Couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy.”
    And there it was.
    “How are your parents?” he asked.
    “Same as always,” I said, and braced myself, sure he was leading up to a question about Joey. I wouldn’t have minded it coming from someone else. In fact, everyone asked about Joey. But I didn’t even want to hear Kenny say her name.
    “And the rest of the gang?”
    I have to admit, the guy had good instincts.
    “Clare is Clare,” I said. “She has the whole perfect soccer mom life going on.” I paused, deciding whether or not I should say something about Joey. I glanced over at him. He was silent, trying to scrape something off the bottom of the window with his fingernail. Outside, the dogwood tree was in full bloom.
    “I’ll dust the table in the foyer,” I said, and walked out of the room.
    He followed after me. “Bev,” he said, putting a hand on my shoulder.
    I knew something heavy was coming and didn’t want to deal with it. I kept my back to him and started dusting the hall table.
    “I don’t think I ever apologized to you,” he said.
    “You have nothing to apologize for.” I paused. Why were we even talking about something that happened so long ago? “I had no claims on you.”
    That much, I figured, was true. I had no reason to think that passion in my living room meant anything. He was stoned and drunk and I was a warm body next to him. So why did I still feel so enraged over the scene I walked in on several days later in Joey’s bedroom?
    “But you were hurt.”
    “Don’t flatter yourself.”
    Kenny sighed. “Here’s the thing. I was a self-destructive kid. My impulse was to run the other way from anything that could possibly be good for me. You understand?”
    Charity. Ugh. I noticed a cobweb above the mirror and flicked it with the rag. I saw his reflection behind me, waiting.
    Why did he need my forgiveness?