“Nobody,” Rafe told the phone, flapping a hand at us to keep our voices down. “The television. I spend my days watching soap operas, eating bonbons and plotting society’s downfall.”
The last card came up a nine, which at least gave me a pair. “Well, certainly in some cases jealousy is a factor,” Daniel said, “but Rafe’s father, if half what he says is true, could afford to live any life he wanted, including ours. What does he have to be jealous of? No, I think the mentality has its origins in the Puritan moral framework: the emphasis on fitting into a strict hierarchical structure, the element of self-loathing, the horror of anything pleasurable or artistic or unregimented… But I’ve always wondered how that paradigm made the transition to become the boundary, not just of virtue, but of reality itself. Could you put it on speakerphone, Rafe? I’m interested to hear what he has to say.”
Rafe gave him a wide-eyed, are-you-insane stare and shook his head; Daniel looked vaguely puzzled. The rest of us were starting to get the giggles.
“Of course,” Daniel said politely, “if you’d prefer… What’s so funny, Lexie?”
“Lunatics,” Rafe told the ceiling in a fervent undertone, spreading his arms to take in the phone and Daniel and the rest of us, who by now had our hands over our mouths. “I’m surrounded by wall-to-wall lunatics. What have I done to deserve this? Did I pick on the afflicted in a previous life?”
The phone, which was obviously working up to a big finish, informed Rafe that he could have a Lifestyle. “Guzzling champagne in the City,” Rafe translated, for us, “and shagging my secretary.”
“What the fuck is wrong with that?” the phone shouted, loud enough that Daniel, startled, reared back in his chair with a look of sheer astounded disapproval. Justin exploded with a noise somewhere between a snort and a yelp; Abby was hanging over the back of her chair with her knuckles stuffed in her mouth, and I was laughing so hard I had to stick my head under the table.
The phone, with a magnificent disregard for basic anatomy, called us all a bunch of limp-dicked hippies. By the time I pulled myself together and came up for air, Rafe had flipped over a pair of jacks and was scooping in the pot, pumping one fist in the air and grinning. I realized something. Rafe’s mobile had gone off about two feet from my ear, and I hadn’t even flinched.
“You know what it is?” Abby said out of nowhere, a few hands later. “It’s the contentment.”
“Who said which to the what now?” inquired Rafe, narrowing his eyes to examine Daniel’s stack. He had switched his phone off.
“The real-world thing.” She leaned sideways across me to pull the ashtray closer. Justin had put on Debussy, blending with the faint rush of rain on the grass outside. “Our entire society’s based on discontent: people wanting more and more and more, being constantly dissatisfied with their homes, their bodies, their decor, their clothes, everything. Taking it for granted that that’s the whole point of life, never to be satisfied. If you’re perfectly happy with what you’ve got-specially if what you’ve got isn’t even all that spectacular-then you’re dangerous. You’re breaking all the rules, you’re undermining the sacred economy, you’re challenging every assumption that society’s built on. That’s why Rafe’s dad throws a mickey fit whenever Rafe says he’s happy where he is. The way he sees it, we’re all subversives. We’re traitors.”
“I think you’ve got something there,” said Daniel. “Not jealousy, after all: fear. It’s a fascinating state of affairs. Throughout history-even a hundred years ago, even fifty-it was discontent that was considered the threat to society, the defiance of natural law, the danger that had to be exterminated at all costs. Now it’s contentment. What a strange reversal.”
“We’re revolutionaries,” Justin said happily, poking a Dorito around in the salsa jar and looking phenomenally unrevolutionary. “I never realized it was this easy.”
“We’re stealth guerrillas,” I said with relish.
“You’re a stealth chimpanzee,” Rafe told me, flipping three coins into the middle.
“Yes, but a contented one,” said Daniel, smiling across at me. “Aren’t you?”
“If Rafe would just quit hogging the garlic dip, I’d be the most contented stealth chimpanzee in the whole of Ireland.”
“Good,” Daniel said, giving me a little nod. “That’s what I like to hear.”
