"Why?"
"It's really dusty, you won't be able to breathe." She is intentionally scaring him and hating herself for it.
"Hurry," he says.
"I will."
Elaine scurries across the grass to the split sides of the prefab house. She steps in. Her theme has been elaborated upon. Her FUCK THIS now reads FUCK THIS WHOLE FUCKING THING. And someone has woven string, a deep-red yarn, around the nails, connecting the dots. And someone else-she assumes-
has gone at it circling the phrase with black Magic Marker and, in a wobbly hand, offering the evaluation BAD ATTITUDE B-.
There must have been a party last night, a conclave of youth on the loose. Elaine looks for the hammer, the nails. Gone. All gone. She hopes they are being held in Allied hands. She hopes no one called the cops.
"What were you looking for?" Sammy asks when she gets back into the car.
"Details," she says. "Whenever you do something, you have to be sure to get the details right."
Paul. Paul is home alone. He is in front of the TV watching an extra videotape he bought for himself when he was shopping for McKendrick. Amateur porn: Neighborhood Women. There is something about the cheesy homemade quality of it that he finds appealing. He thinks of the date, and of Mrs. A. He closes his eyes and thinks of Elaine. He pictures himself lying out on the new deck, drinking, listening to the sound of the neighbor's Weed Whacker. He imagines Elaine giving him a little lap dance where the neighbors can see. He thinks of the lap dance, the deck, the warm air of a June afternoon. It's exciting up to a point, and then it isn't. He thinks of Elaine and wonders what's going on with her-has she done something? He swells with generosity. Goodie. Goodie if she did it, goodie for her if she got herself out of the house and got herself laid. He's engorged with the idea, generous to a point, and then he's wondering who it might be-could it be Henry? In a fit of jealousy, mad at Paul for doinking the date, could Henry have taken a dive with Elaine? Paul tries out a few other men-George, Mrs. Hansen's husband, the contractor-and decides that, yes, it's Henry, that's the one who makes the most sense.
When Paul hears Elaine come in, he turns off the TV, he holds the Sunday paper on his lap.
"What are you doing?"
"Reading," he says.
"Anything good?"
"Not really."
He gazes at her. "That was nice with your parents," he says.
She nods. "Things are getting back on track."
"We should try and enjoy ourselves a little," Paul says. "How about an early movie in Mamaroneck with the boys? Or a walk, we could walk down to the water?"
"It smells," she says. "There was an article about it in the paper: bacterial growth, a terrible smell."
"Remember." he says, thinking back to the night when they first moved here, the night they went to the movies and on the way home stopped down by the water, smoked a joint, and the cop came.
"Yes," she says, knowing what he's thinking.
He stands up. He reaches for her hand. He leads her upstairs.
"The boys were in Florida with your mother," she says.
"It's good to have them home," he says.
"Where's Daniel?"
"Somewhere outside with Willy," he says. "And Sammy?"
"Sitting on the front step," she says.
Paul and Elaine are upstairs fucking. A quickie-the kind of thing they used to enjoy.
Elaine is dry.
"Have you got anything? Any kind of lube?"
"Just you," she says.
"Oh," he says.
He licks her.
She sucks him.
They fuck. Elaine is on top.
"Mom," Sammy yells upstairs. "Mom, the people are here." "What people?" Paul asks.
"The people," Sammy shouts.
They keep fucking.
"They're here," Sammy says.
"Hurry," Elaine says.
"Help me," Paul says. His hands are on her hips, he's pulling her down, pressing her against him.
"This isn't about me," Elaine says, panting.
"What do you mean?"
"Just come, so we can find out who's here."
"Dad," Sammy whines.
"Coming," Paul bellows.
He comes. Elaine pops up off him and goes to the window. "It's Joan and Ted," she says.
"Did you come?" he asks, pressing against her from behind. "I don't know."
"You don't know?"
Another car pulls up. "What's going on?" Elaine wants to know. "How could you not know if you came or not?"
More cars arrive.
"Hurry," Elaine says as they're dressing.
"Surprise!" Joan throws her arms up in the air as Elaine and Paul come out the front door.
"Surprise!" Elaine says, imitating Joan.
"It's a housewarming," Joan says. "I planned it last night. We were just sitting there with nothing to do. The whole gang's
coming, isn't that great? Catherine and Hammy are back, and they're desperate to see everyone-they haven't seen a friendly face in a week."
The trunk of the car is open, and Ted is struggling to pull something out. "Joan," he says. "Joan, can you give me a hand?"
"I wasn't sure what you did or didn't have, what might have gotten damaged in the fire, so I brought everything," Joan says.
"The house isn't really ready," Elaine says. "The deck isn't finished."
"You're home, that's what matters," Joan says.
Paul interrupts. "Is Henry coming?" He needs to know. He's been obsessing about Henry, Henry and the date, Henry and Elaine, Henry on top.
"Any minute," Joan says.
The Nielsons' car pulls up. "It's George, one of the little M's, and.. who's that? That's not Pat," Joan says.
An unidentified woman is at the wheel.
"My cousin Lois," George says, opening the passenger door. "She's visiting from Syracuse." He hands over a pitcher of martinis. "She drove. I didn't want to bruise the gin."
A man Elaine doesn't know asks, "Are we staying in front or going around back?"
"The back is full of rocks," Elaine says.
He plunges the sharp stake of a bamboo torch into the ground.
"Our friends from Pelham, I asked them to join," Joan says, nodding toward the slightly younger couple. "We had plans for tonight," she whispers. "And I just couldn't cancel; I hate it when people cancel."
"Drinks? Who would like a drink?" George holds the pitcher high. "When it's empty, it's yours to keep," George says. "A housewarming gift from Pat and me." "Actually, we owe you a gift," Elaine says. She's been thinking that they need to get the Nielsons a really big thank-you present. What would do the trick? Something she can order from a catalog; Pat would appreciate that.
George shrugs. "Whatever feels right."