On the opposite side of the house from the voluminous garage were several acres of gardens which ran right up to the border of the woods. A stone pathway led from the side patio out into a garden which held flowers of every color and shape. The flower garden was the border of the vegetable garden, and extended several hundred feet into the property; the vegetable garden, Peter observed, was full of productive plants. Several acres of vegetables were visible from the driveway before it became indistinguishable from the property beyond, and a few men and women were seen tending the produce. Peter guessed that his father’s boss rarely ate vegetables from the grocery store when the garden was in season, and neither must he harvest them himself.
A few acres of recreational area extended up alongside the driveway towards the gate from which Peter and his family were walking. Dotted with high-hanging elms along the borders, the deep green yard could easily host three full football games simultaneously. The lawn was mown in perfectly straight patterns along its whole length, and grass clippings were nowhere to be seen. A gazebo with a picnic table and benches bordering the inner perimeter, perfect for fair-weather luncheons, sat a few yards from the patio.
Black, smooth asphalt covered the entire driveway, and its border was tended and mulched every step of the way. The driveway swelled into a giant teardrop shape, which would provide more than enough room to host a small car show, or a graduation ceremony. Beyond the teardrop’s edge was what seemed to be an orchard. The trees were clearly in season as bulbs of various sizes and colors, hanging down from the branches, were visible from the driveway.
Peter could tell from their faces as they approached the patio closest to them, that Mom and Dad were intimidated. Even after all the fuss about what to wear, how to shake hands, silky smooth hair and fancy rental cars, they were visibly taken aback. Dozens of coworkers and employees, from executives to secretaries to roughnecks, were commiserating and moving about the estate. Most were talking in some informal groups, and a handful of couples were giving themselves a tour of the property.
They made their way up the stairs and through the crowd gathered on the patio and into the house. Inside the home, a distinctly effeminate and motherly touch emanated from the decorum. High ceilings, bay windows, lavish drapery, tables and bars all gave the impression that some collaborative effort was undertaken so as to thoroughly impress and welcome the guests.
Mom and Dad began to exchange pleasantries with some well-dressed men and women gathered about a bar. Peter and Trini were introduced several times and obeyed their prescribed routine for meeting new people, the latter mechanically reciting canned responses through an obviously forced smile. Peter casually pretended to take an interest in some pretentious-looking art hanging from a wall nearby, and slid over to pretend to look at it and Trini followed suit, pretending to be interested.
“We’ve been here for ten minutes and these stupid fake butterflies are already sliding out of my hair,” Trini said to her brother, loud enough to inform a middle-aged couple actually admiring the abstract art.
“Just keep them in for now, Trini-Beanie,” Peter replied. “Mom will lose control if she saw anything less than four shiny insects-clips in your hair before we leave.”
One of Peter’s informal duties as an older sibling was to provide entertainment and distraction for his younger counterpart. This was never an easy task, but since she left the second grade she became less curious and more miserable, so his role shifted from entertainer to that of an arbitrator.
Trini approached a table full of hors d’oevres. She eyed the items on each plate with an adolescent scrutiny. The table itself had a wide, round base and a smaller shelf protruding from the top. Both levels were covered with a scarlet tablecloth, with what appeared to be gold and silver embroidery around the edges and throughout the fabric. After a lap around the table, Trini returned to her brother’s side. Her face wore a common expression of preteen contempt.
“It’s like a thousand degrees out, and this guy is serving the weirdest crap. No burgers, no dogs, no fruit salad. No summer food.” Trini was apparently exasperated at the host’s inability to cater to her simple tastes. “Nobody wants to eat this crap. Everything on that table is a thing wrapped in another thing, and most of it has some kind of weirdo, slimy, sauce on it. There’s not even anywhere to sit down and eat this stuff, even if I wanted to.”
She went over and plucked a small, round, reddish brown article off the table with her fingers, completely disregarding the sterling silver tongs resting on a place beside the tray. She popped it in her mouth. Looking back over at Peter, she rolled her eyes, licked her fingers, and after a moment of perturbed chewing, swallowed.
“That was a freaking shrimp… wrapped in freaking bacon,” Trini shared, promptly extracting another from the plate. “Who comes up with crap like this?”
Peter did not mind the sound of such a concoction, but let the issue slide and instead commanded, “Let’s make ourselves scarce, Trini-Beanie.”
Trini nodded her assent, and tagged along behind him through the crowds occupying the high ceilings and open floors of the Pavlovitch estate. Peter carefully, and his sister indifferently, weaved their way through the other guests while they scoped out other portions of the home. The first level contained the kitchen and dining room, which they had just left. Two rooms with armchairs, sofas and fireplaces, each with its own color and furniture scheme were alongside the kitchen and dining room. Peter speculated that the furniture in these two rooms alone would allow half his class to sprawl out with space to spare.
A TV room was also on the first floor, and featured a step-down into a seating area that could be mistaken for a theater. Upon a fixture in the corner hung a massive TV. The floor was covered in carpet that felt like it soaked up his feet even through his dress shoes, and was easily a quarter inch in foamy thickness. The windows in the room had curled up black blinders hanging over top of them, in addition to the elegant curtains that were drawn off to the side; ideal for full immersion while watching a movie. Peter again speculated, and guessed that the blinders were raised and lowered via remote control. He began to feel slightly jealous…
Trini meandered off and led her brother downstairs. She hit the lights on her way down the stairwell, and Peter noticed that the banister was several inches thick, and made of a dark hardwood. The cushy carpet was replaced by a thinner carpet on the stairs.
The two of them emerged into what appeared to be a basement rec-room. The entire floor was covered in a padding made to soften the impacts of falling and jumping. The whole floorspace was maybe half of what the high school gym was, but was not quite high enough to hold basketball hoops. Several heavybags, of varying lengths and thicknesses, hung from a steel I-beam that ran the length of the room, and a full set of free weights were resting along the furthest wall. A rack of plates was in between a bench and lat-pulldown set, and a mirror was mounted upon the wall. Dumbbells were resting on a rack underneath the mirror. The basement doors opened out onto a porch, but none of the guests were occupying it at that time, which allowed the siblings to explore the basement as they pleased.
“I can’t take these things anymore,” Trini complained to her brother, fiddling with her butterfly hairclips. “I’m sweaty and hot and gross and I can’t stand these stupid things! They’re coming out!” No sooner had she issued her declaration of intent did she dispose of them into one of the wastebins. Her hair fell down to its natural shoulder length, now with a few irregular waves. Nonetheless, her disposition lifted significantly with the disposal of the clips.
Peter strolled about the downstairs rec-room and discovered quite a few articles which piqued his interest: a shelf full of martial-arts combat equipment, weighted vests, medicine balls, resistance bands, balance balls and a pull-up bar. He always held certain esteem for fitness guru types, but never felt nearly enough inclination to act on a desire of his own for bodybuilding or sports training. Having never tried out for a sports team, he decided it would never really be worth all that effort of jumping and running and throwing around great lugs of weight. Neither was