Possible Side Effects by Burroughs Augusten

Author:Burroughs, Augusten [Burroughs, Augusten]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9780312426811
Google: 5Q4J3N80eLMC
Amazon: 0312315961
Publisher: Picador
Published: 2007-04-17T05:00:00+00:00

Peep

Almost nothing thrilled me more as a child than to share dinner with the family down the street, the Hendersons. Mrs. Henderson was a bleached blonde who always had a cigarette dangling from her lips when she brought the ham or the meatloaf or the shepherd’s pie to the table. And she, herself, never sat at the table, but on a tall stool pulled up next to the counter, a plate balanced on her knees. Mr. Henderson always sat at the head of the table and the two Henderson kids—who were both younger than my eight years—sat on either side. They almost never said anything at all. Because Mr. and Mrs. Henderson spent the whole dinner yelling at each other.

I always had the same seat—a rock about forty feet from the sliding glass door of the dining room, in their backyard at the edge of the woods. But with my brother’s binoculars, it was almost as though I was there. Better, even. Because if I had been in the actual room, there is no way it would have been okay to really get in close and watch Mr. Henderson chew a piece of ham, to see the mashed potatoes blending in his mouth with the peas, the glint of silver from one of his many fillings sparkling through the chewed paste. And then to watch a partially chewed pea shoot out of his mouth and hit his daughter on the forehead when he screamed “Fuck you!” at his wife.

The Henderson children were shy and quiet at school. Sometimes, I was tempted to reveal that I knew more about them than I ought to. I fantasized telling Sally, “You look like a girl who eats a double helping of carrots. Your skin is so orange I bet you glow in the dark.” Because I knew that her brother hated carrots and always let her eat his serving, which she did, happily. Or maybe I could whisper in Sean’s ear, “You know, your mom is a slut. Everybody knows it.” Because that’s what Mr. Henderson called her, a slut. Sometimes he even called her a “dirty” slut. But he always ate her candied ham, even sucking on the cloves. So how much of a slut could she really be? I had no idea, of course, what a “slut” was, but I knew it was bad because he only said it when he was screaming.

I also knew that my knowledge of the Hendersons’ most intimate lives must remain my secret. And if there was one thing I was good at, it was keeping secrets.

For example, even though I was just dying to tell somebody, I never breathed a word about Mr. X, who lived up on Highpoint Hill and read Playgirl magazine while he sat in his car, parked in the garage. He kept a copy tucked under the seat. I was just itching to come up to him and his wife when I saw them in town and say, “Hey, Mrs. X! You’re so lucky! I wish my father would read Playgirl.

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