6

DEBORAH UNRUH

July 1963

For the next three months, the mother-to-be ate so poorly, she gained fewer than fifteen pounds. Her diet consisted largely of beans and rice—a perfect protein, she proclaimed, completely disregarding her unborn baby’s need for proper nutrition. She didn’t believe in prenatal vitamins, claiming that women since the beginning of time had managed to conceive and bear children without the interference of the pharmaceutical companies. Patrick found her attitudes infuriating, but there was no arguing the point. She interpreted any opposition or rebuttal as an assault on her autonomy. He finally threw his hands up and took to leaving the room the minute she walked in.

Most of the time, she kept a sullen distance, but there were moments when she made a minor effort to get along, thus fostering Deborah’s hopes that a bond could be forged, however limited it might be. Her optimism was always short-lived. Shelly’s mood would darken. The unstable elements in her personality would combine, setting off the inevitable explosion. Once she blew up, Greg stepped into the role of mediator, traveling back and forth between the bus and the house. He made excuses, soothing and mollifying first Shelly and then his parents. Deborah almost preferred Shelly’s hysteria to Greg’s pathetic attempts to broker a peace.

Patrick and Deborah took to eating dinner with friends on Friday nights at the Horton Ravine Country Club. According to the gossip, many couples in their social set were experiencing the same dismay, as their offspring, now young adults, got caught up in “alternative lifestyles,” which meant dope, secondhand clothes, long, unkempt hair, and a neglect of personal hygiene. The nights out were their only relief from the tensions at home and their only opportunity to blow off steam.

They’d known Kip and Annabelle Sutton since they’d joined the country club, shortly after moving to Santa Teresa from Boulder, Colorado. The Unruhs were in their forties, while Kip and Annabelle were ten years younger, with school-age children who took up a major portion of their time and energy. For the Suttons, the Friday-night get-together was a welcome respite from parental responsibilities.

Kip was an architect who specialized in commercial properties—office buildings, banks, department stores. Annabelle was a stay-at-home mom, just as Deborah had been in her day. The Suttons’ four children were two, six, eight, and ten, the oldest a girl named Diana. During the first round of martinis, the subject of Greg and Shelly came up, as it did most Friday nights.

Patrick said, “Take a lesson from us. These kids are malcontents and they’re spoiling for a fight. Our accomplishments are worthless as far as they’re concerned. You two have the same trouble coming up only I’m betting it gets worse.”

Annabelle said, “Don’t say that. I have my hands full coping with the terrible twos. Michael was a doll until his second birthday and now here we are, turning to drink.” She plucked an olive from her martini, popped it in her mouth, and then drained her glass.