Suburbia Read online

Suburbia

  by

  Jim Dayton

  PUBLISHED BY:

  Suburbia

  Copyright 2011 by Jim Dayton

  To my neighbors

  Suburbia

  I wonder if I looked as stupid as I felt. The lights were glaring into the dark glasses, and I could feel the cheap black wig shifting on my head. The stage manager popped up, “we’re back in five, four, three…” The lights steadily got brighter as the crowd went nuts for the flashing, red applause sign. The host walked out from the middle of the crowd,… and that’s when I went blank.

  * * *

  The houses all stood in perfect rows. They all looked as if they were the exact same house except for exterior color. Some had bushes, some had trees, some had children in the yard, and others looked abandoned. The sun was out, the sky was blue, and the birds were singing. It was another “Pleasant Valley Sunday.” The neighborhood was the perfect stereotype right down to the father mowing the grass in his Bermuda shorts, black socks, and sandals.

  We pulled up to 1532 England in our beat-up station wagon. The moving van blocked most of the driveway. “Well, here we are, Lizzy, the suburbs,” I laughed and shot her an uneasy smile. I knew this was the last place she wanted to live. She scowled back at me, and reached for the door handle.

  “You sure know how to pick ‘em, Drew,” she half-screamed when she saw the house.

  She lit up a cigarette and started toward the front door. All the neighbors stared as we walked past the perfectly trimmed shrubbery, and into the house. They were all staring at the two most unlikely suburbanites. True, Lizzy was an up-and-coming book editor that worked way too hard for what she earned. She loved the city and hated the fact that I had decided to move in next to June, Ward, Wally, and The Beaver. But, she humored me because she loves me. Me, I had to get away from the noise of the city. I’m a computer network consultant, so I do all my work from home. I don’t have to get up early, I don’t have to shower to go to work, and I made seven figures last year sitting in front of a computer monitor. But, that’s all irrelevant now.

  The first weekend we lived in the house, we were invited over to the neighbor’s for a barbecue. Ed, the neighbor, sent his wife over to ask if Lizzy and I would like to come over and mingle with them and some of the other neighbors. I told her we’d love to, even though Lizzy hated the idea. We walked up to Ed’s front door where there was a small note telling us to come around to the backyard. We opened the gate and were immediately attacked by the smoke from Ed’s grill.

  “C’mon in!” Ed yelled. “Grab a cold one from the cooler, buddy.” Lizzy’s face turned pale white. I could tell she was going over every suburban stereotype in her head. “How do you like your burger, pal?” I walked over to the cloud of talking hickory smoke.

  “The name’s Drew, and you must be Ed,” I laughed. Ed was dressed in the traditional Sunday barbecue garb, right down to the apron with the saying, “If you don’t like my cooking call 1-800-EAT-SHIT.” I grabbed a beer and struck up a less-than-sparkling conversation with Ed. Lizzy sat down at the redwood picnic table and opened her beer.

  The sliding glass door to the house opened, and Ed’s wife stepped out. She was wearing a pink bikini top and white shorts. I decided that she was much younger than Ed based merely on the fact her ass looked like she was still in high school. “So, Ed, how long you lived here?” I asked with my eyes glued to his wife.

  “Only five years. We love it here. See, we got married straight out of high school, and I went to work for my old man… insurance. It took me five years to save up for this place. So, what do you do?” he smiled, even though he knew I was staring at his wife.

  “Computers. I consult companies on their networks,” Ed looked confused. “Lizzy, she works in the city. She edits books,” Ed looked even more confused.

  “So, you both drive to the city every day. Why the Hell’d you move here?” he laughed.

  “I work at home. Lizzy’s the only one that commutes,” I knew this was going to get a weird reaction. Ed said nothing. He just stood there and looked dumb-founded, which, I guessed, was quite normal for Ed.

  Two more couples arrived, there was Neil, Mike, and their wives. Everyone was borderline thirty. Lizzy and I were the oldest at thirty-two and thirty. She and I compared notes, later, and found out that the husbands and wives had grilled us both with the same questions. What do you do? What does your wife do? Why’d you move here, if you both work in the city? We answered, and received the same dumb-founded looks. These people just couldn’t grasp that I stayed at home and Lizzy drove to the city every day. But, they were nice people, for conservatives. It made us laugh for at least an hour when we got home and thought about our new-found friends.

  Six months went by, and Lizzy and I got used to suburbia. I would get up around six and fix breakfast. Lizzy would get up around six-thirty, shower, and then come downstairs. “So, what’s up for today?” she asked. I would explain to her that I would be on-line all day with clients, and what their specific needs were… blah, blah, blah. She’d stand up, still half asleep I think, and say, “well, see you at dinner.” She’d laugh thinking about how mundane our lives had become, stumble out the door to her car, and then drive away.

  In reality, I would get most of my work done before noon, so I could go over to Mike’s house. At Mike’s, I would sit with the wives, smoke cigarettes, drink coffee, and gossip. We would talk about our relationships, past and present. The women would complain about their husbands, while inquiring how Lizzy and my’s relationship got so perfect. Hours would pass without a break in the conversation, but right before the husbands, and Lizzy, came home we would break our conference and make it home right before them. Lizzy would get home. We’d eat dinner, talk or read, and then go to bed. Occasionally, we would go clubbing just to make sure we weren’t as old as we were feeling.

  * * *

  “So, tell us how the day started,” the stage lights viciously glared off the host’s glasses. The cheap, black wig made another attempt to slide off my head. I looked out over the silent audience.