Robert, with a gruff and hearty false laugh, said, "The landscaping was due for a makeover anyway. You get tired of the same old fountains."
Peter said, "We still feel terrible about the whole thing. You two have always been such dear friends, I'd hate to think of something like this coming between us."
Martin, with his sweetest smile, said, "Peter, please, don't think another thing about it."
Smiles; air-kisses; waving farewells. Peter and David climbed into the red Ford Taurus, which seemed smaller and nastier than on Friday, in a more garish and plebeian red. In silent misery, they put on their yachting caps.
David was driving, for the return to the city. He steered out to Quarantine Road, made the turn, and Peter said, "That Martin. What a slimy creep he is. Nurse Martin indeed. Did you hear him? At least Robert comes out and tells you what he thinks."
"No, he doesn't," David said.
"You know what I mean. "Don't think another thing about it,'" he simpered, mimicking Martin. "You know what that's all about. Don't think you're ever coming back here."
David sighed, but saw no point in discussing their ouster from Eden any further. They were on County Route 14 now, and he looked at the remains of a bicycle by the side of the road; it must have been in a truly ghastly accident. I'd hate to have been riding that bike, David thought, trying to find somebody in the world worse off than himself.
"And now the story's out," Peter complained.
"Oh, not really," David said. "That part doesn't worry me. Already it's just an anecdote. People who weren't there won't really believe it, they'll think it's just another of those urban legend things."
Peter brooded. "I'd like to see that Freddie now," he growled.
David sighed. "Well, that's the problem in a nutshell, isn't it?" he asked.
48
Sunday afternoon. No more stalling. It was time to leave. "Freddie," Peg said, looking mournfully at Frankenstein's monster, "I wish you'd chosen another head."
"This didn't seem like anybody else's moment, Peg."
She should have left here yesterday, after she'd done the test spin with Freddie in the green Hornet and he'd pronounced himself pleasantly surprised with its comfort and handling. But somehow neither of them could permit it to end there, just like that. They stood on the driveway blacktop beside the new car, Freddie at that time, yesterday, still in his Dick Tracy mode, and they hemmed and hawed together for a while, and at last Freddie said, "I have a little idea, Peg. Come on to the pool."
"What for? I've seen you swim, it's the only time I can see you, or something like you."
"Just come along, okay?"
His Playtex hand took her hand, and she allowed him to lead her around the house and up the slope to the pool, where he carefully closed the door in the fence and said, "Come on in the pool, Peg."
"In?" That would truly be exposing herself to sunlight, with no protection at all. Water was no protection. "I didn't bring my suit," she said.
He laughed, as he peeled off his own clothing. "You don't need a suit," he told her.
That was so strange, to watch him disappear like that, to watch a complete human being turn into nothing more than a pile of clothing on the deck. Then there was a giant splash as he cannonballed into the water, and there it was, the ghost dolphin again, coursing through the pool.
"Come on in, Peg!"
It was along the lines of a last request, after all, she told herself, so she decided to go along with it, stepping out of her clothing, leaving it all more nearly on a chair than he had on the deck, and then stepping gingerly into the pool to find it not cold at all, the water first warmed by the pool heater and then by the sun. She descended into the sparkling water, and the giant dolphin swept toward her through the pool, and put his warm wet arms around her, and kissed her on the mouth.
"Mmmmm," she said.
"It's nice, isn't it?"
"Mmmmm," she said.
Sex in the swimming pool, in the buoyant warm water, languorous and slow. This was the first time since Freddie's transformation they'd been together like this when it wasn't pitch black, and it was kind of terrific. Very sexy, very loving that was, to be turned and stroked by a giant ghost dolphin in the water, someone you couldn't really see, but almost, and finally, when all was said and done, it didn't matter. Peg and Freddie and the warm moving water flowed together into one being, loving and content.
Well, after that she couldn't just put her clothes on and go home. They spent the afternoon together, for a while with Freddie in a terry-cloth robe — one size fits all, as Martin had pointed out — and espadrilles, with a white towel tossed over his head. That wasn't so bad, seeing the spaces where there ought to be a person. Maybe, if she had small doses of it like this, particularly with pleasant interludes like the one in the swimming pool as part of the arrangement, maybe eventually she could begin to get used to this new Freddie. In small doses.
It was Peg's idea they try a candlelight dinner at home, with only two candles. That made it a bit hard to find the food, but Freddie was now in a short-sleeved polo shirt and slacks, no gloves or head, and in the dimness she hardly minded the fork as it moved in and out of the candle glow, or the lack of anything at all above the shirt's soft collar. They had wine with dinner, and it was impossible for Peg to leave after that, and in any case the pool experience and the romantic dinner, and the protected solitude of their hideaway house here in the country, suggested a different ending for the evening, so that was what they did.
But now it was Sunday afternoon, and they could stall no longer. Peg could not bring herself to kiss Frankenstein's monster's cheek, but she patted the cheek, and that was no good either: cold, and not at all lifelike. "Freddie," she said. "I'm going to close my eyes now, and I want you to kiss me good-bye."
"Hell and damn," he said, but she closed her eyes, and she heard the rustle of latex, and then he kissed her for a long time. Then she opened her eyes, and the morose monster was back. "I'll call you tonight," she told it, and got into the van quickly, before she would start to cry in front of him.
Which was another advantage he had, she told herself, as she tried to be hard and cold. If he cried, who would know?
The monster stayed in her rearview mirror, waving its Playtex hand. She honked as she went around the curve that put him out of sight.
Driving south, she thought furiously but profitlessly about herself and Freddie and their problems and their options, and nothing seemed to make sense, nothing at all. She drove much faster than usual, because she was upset, and it was lucky she didn't get a ticket. At one point, on the southern part of the Taconic, she zipped past a red Ford Taurus poking along moodily in the right lane, with two long-faced guys in white yachting caps inside it, illuminated like a stage set because of their sunroof, but she didn't even give them a glance. She had troubles of her own.
The apartment was hot and stuffy and dusty and empty. There was a window air conditioner in the bedroom closet, which she lugged out and installed in a bedroom window, sweating gallons along the way. After she showered, the bedroom was a little cooler, but the rest of the apartment was still hot.
She called Freddie from the bedroom phone, but it turned out they had very little to say to one another. Both felt extremely awkward, and both were happy to end the call, with, "Talk to you tomorrow." Then Peg went out to a deli to get some necessities, went home, called a Chinese take-out place, carried the TV set into the cool bedroom, and spent the evening eating anonymous foods in front of anonymous reruns.