Edgar closed the door and leaned against it, against the door of his M-17 castle.
Wanda sank to the couch. "The place looked nice, I think," she said. She said it whenever a visitor - Amy Glock, Gladys Pelrine, the Shah of Bratpuhr, anybody - left.
"Yep," said Edgar. And he felt evil and damned as he looked at Wanda, good, good soul, who'd never done anything to offend him, whose love for him was as big as all outdoors. He fingered the three ten-dollar bills in his pocket, his take-home pay - cigarette money, recreation money, small luxury money the machines let him have. This tiny atom of the economy under his control he was going to spend, not on himself or Wanda or the kids, but on Marion. Edgar's troubled heart had gone out to the crazy man in Halyard's story, the guy who'd bought himself an electric organ. Expensive, impractical, strictly personal - above and beyond the goddamned package.
But deceit was another thing. "Wanda," said Edgar, "I'm no good."
She knew what he was talking about, all right. She wasn't in the least surprised. "Yes, you are, Edgar," she said lamely. "You're a fine man. I understand."
"About Marion?"
"Yes. She's very beautiful and charming. And I'm not exactly a girl any more, and I expect I'm pretty dull." She started to cry, and, good soul that she was, she tried to keep him from seeing it. She hurried into the kitchen, took four suppers from the deep freeze, and thrust them into the radar range. "Call the children, will you please, Edgar?" she said in a small, high voice. "Supper will be ready in twenty-eight seconds."
Edgar shouted the children's names into the twilight, and returned to Wanda. "Listen, Wan - it isn't you. The Lord knows it isn't your fault." He hugged her from behind, and she twisted away and pretended to adjust dials on the range, though there was no adjusting to be done. Clockwork was doing everything.
Chimes rang, the clockwork clicked, and the range's humming stopped. "Call the children before everything gets cold," she said.
"They're coming." Edgar tried to hug her again, and she let him this time. "Listen," he said passionately, "it's the world, Wan - me and the world. I'm no good to anybody, not in this world. Nothing but a Reek and Wreck, and that's all my kids'll be, and a guy's got to have kicks or he doesn't want to live - and the only kicks left for a dumb bastard like me are the bad ones. I'm no good, Wan, no good!"
"It's me that's no good to anybody," said Wanda wearily. "Nobody needs me. You or even little old Delores could run the house and all, it's so easy. And now I'm too fat for anybody but the kids to love me. My mother got fat, and my grandmother got fat, and guess it's in the blood; but somebody needed them, they were still some good. But you don't need me, Ed, and you can't help it if you don't love me any more. Just the way men are, and you can't help it if you're the way God made you." She looked at him lovingly, pityingly. "Poor man."
Delores and Edgar, Jr., bustled in, and Edgar and Wanda composed themselves and told their children all about the Shah.
The subject was soon exhausted, and at dinner only the children spoke and touched their food.
"Somebody sick?" said Edgar, Jr.
"Your mother isn't well. She has a headache," said Edgar.
"Yeah? That's too bad, Mom."
"Just a little thing," said Wanda. "It'll pass."
"How about you, Pop?" said Edgar, Jr. "You well enough to take in the basketball game at the pavilion tonight?"
Edgar kept his eyes on his plate. "Like to," he mumbled. "Promised Joe I'd go bowling with him tonight."
"Joe Prince?"
"Yeah, Joe Prince."
"Why, Daddy," said Delores, "we saw Mr. Prince over to the Glocks', and he said he was going to the basketball game."
"He did not!" said Edgar, Jr., fiercely. "Just be quiet. You don't know what you're talking about. He didn't say that at all."
"He did, too!" said Delores stubbornly. "He said -"
"Delores, honey," said Wanda, "I'm sure you misunderstood Mr. Prince."
"Yes," said Edgar, Jr., "I remember now he said he was going bowling with Pop. Sis got it all wrong, Mom." His hands were trembling, and, clumsily, he knocked over his milk glass. Both he and his father jumped to their feet to catch it before it toppled all the way. Young Edgar caught it, and when his eyes met old Edgar's they were full of hate. "Guess I'm too tired to go to the ball game after all," he said. "Guess I'll stay home and watch television with Mom."
"Don't miss any good times on my account," said Wanda. "I get along just fine by myself."
There was a series of sharp taps on the picture window, and the Hagstrohms looked up to see the Shah of Bratpuhr rattling his ringed fingers against the glass. He had just returned from the pavilion to the limousine, which had been left in front of the Hagstrohm's M-17 home.
"Brahouna!" cried the Shah cheerfully. He waved. "Brahouna, Takaru."
" 'Live!' " translated Krashdrahr.
Chapter Eighteen
WHEN Wednesday came, Paul stopped by his farm early in the morning and gave Mr. Haycox his instructions. Mr. Haycox made it clear that he wasn't a parlor maid.
Reluctantly, Paul gave Mr. Haycox to understand that he could do the job or clear out, and that the job had better be well done. It was that important to Paul that everything be perfect for the delicate transformation of Anita.
"You think you can just go around buying anybody to do anything you damn please," said Mr. Haycox. "Well, you're mistaken this time, Doctor. You can take your doctor's degree, and -"
"I don't want to fire you."
"Then don't!"
"For the last time, as a favor to me - "
"Why didn't you say so in the first place?"
"Say what?"
" 'As a favor -' "
"All right; as a favor -"
"As a favor, just this once," said Mr. Haycox. "I'm no parlor maid, but I try to be a good friend."
"Thanks."
"Nothing at all. Don't mention it."
During the day, Anita called Paul to ask what she was to wear.
"Old clothes."
"A barn dance?"
"Not quite, but close. Dress as though it were."
"Paul, with the Meadows so close and all, do you think we should be going out and tearing around?"
"The Meadows isn't a funeral."
"It could be, Paul."
"Just for tonight, let's forget the Meadows. Tonight it's going to be just Paul and Anita, and to hell with everybody else."
"That's very easy to say, Paul. It's a sweet idea and everything, but -"
"But what?" he asked irritably.
"Well, I don't know; I don't want to nag, but it does seem to me that you're being awfully slap-happy about the Meadows, about the Blue Team."
"What should I be doing?"
"Shouldn't you be training or something? I mean, shouldn't you be getting lots of sleep and eating the right foods and jogging around a little after work? And cutting down on cigarettes, maybe?"
"What?"
"You've got to be in shape if the Blue Team's going to win."
Paul laughed.
"Now listen, Paul, you needn't laugh. Shepherd says he's seen careers made and broken by how men made out as team captains at the Meadows. Shepherd's given up smoking completely."
"You can tell him I've taken up hashish to speed up my reaction time. His fast ball will look like a toy balloon blowing over home plate. We are going out tonight."
"All right," she said gloomily. "All right."
"I love you, Anita."
"I love you, Paul."