that she was not just drunk but that she'd seen his newspaper. It made him think of the man who had been murdered.
It made him think she had been there when he'd died, * * *
After Dion dropped her off, Penelope went into the kitchen for a drink of water. She could hear her mothers talking in the living room as she passed, and though she didn't want to disturb them, wanted only to sneak upstairs and into bed, she heard Mother Margeaux call her name. She dutifully walked through the doorway to greet them.
Mother Margeaux was standing near the fireplace. 'Hello, Penelope. How was your date?'
She shrugged. 'Fine.'
Sitting next to Mother Sheila on the couch, she saw a tall blond woman she didn't recognize. The woman wore a short jean skirt and a tight white blouse which accentuated the fullness of her large breasts. The woman smiled at her, and Penelope looked away.
'Where did you go?'
'We just went out to dinner.'
'Did you have a good time?'
'Yes, ma'am.'
Mother Margeaux smiled. 'That's good.' She looked at her watch. 'We're going to be talking a little while longer, but after our guest leaves, we want to talk about your evening.'
'I'm tired. It's late--'
'It's not that late. Take your bath and come back down.'
'I don't--'
'Penelope.' Mother Margeaux's voice indicated that she would tolerate no argument.
'Yes, Mother. I will.'
Penelope retreated upstairs. She got her pajamas out of the dresser, and stole a People magazine from Mother Felice's room, bringing it with her to read in the bathtub.
A half hour later, she went back downstairs. She walked into the living room. The blond woman was gone, but all five of her mothers sat on the overstaffed couches, facing her in a semicircle. The arrangement was somewhat intimidating. None of her mothers were talking, none were smiling. They were all waiting patiently for her to join them. Mother Margeaux was still wearing the business suit she used when meeting potential clients, an ensemble intended to exude an aura of strength and confidence, and its message was coming through to Penelope loud and clear.
She sat quietly down on the love seat.
'We are going to talk about sex,' Mother Margeaux announced.
Penelope blinked dumbly.
'We have never had this discussion before,' Mother Margeaux continued, 'although perhaps we should have had it long ago.'
Penelope's cheeks felt hot. She looked at her shoes, nervously playing footsie with herself. 'I know all this,' she said.
'Yes, but I don't think you know about birth control.'
'I already know.' She wished this agony would end.
'Do you know about the pill? Do you know what an IUD is? A diaphragm? A
condom?'
'Yes,' she said miserably.
'Well, where did you learn all this?'
'I don't know.'
'From school?'
'Yeah, I guess. I just ... I don't know. From reading. Hearing people talk.'
'Have you and Dion discussed this? Have you talked about birth control?'
'Mother!'
'You are a senior in high school, as is Dion. I assume you both have the natural urges universally shared by all young men and women your age.
This means that you are probably going to have sex. Your other mothers and I simply want to know if you have talked about it.'
Penelope looked embarrassedly away, said nothing.
'Have you kissed him yet?'
'It's none of your business.'
'It is our business. Have you thought about having sex with him?'
'Look,' Penelope said. 'It hasn't gone that far. It may never go that far.'
'If it does,' Mother Margeaux told her, 'we do not want you to use any form of birth control.'
'What?' Penelope glanced up, shocked. She looked from one to the other, but though her mothers were smiling at her tolerantly, it was clear that they were totally serious. She felt embarrassed and confused at the same time. Disoriented. She did not know what to say or how to act.
Mother Janine grinned. 'Have you thought about his cock?' she asked.
Penelope stared at her. She had never heard any of her mothers use profanity, aside from an occasional 'hell' or 'damn,' and the sound of such a base word in one of her mothers' mouths sounded disgustingly obscene.
'He has a big one. It's nice and long.'
'That will be enough,' Mother Margeaux said sternly.
Penelope looked around the semicircle. Her mothers were not outraged, as she would have expected. They were calm, unruffled, acting as though this sort of conversation occurred every day.
What was going on here?
'Don't use any contraceptives,' Mother Felice said kindly.
Mother Margeaux and Mother Sheila nodded in agreement.
Mother Margeaux smiled. 'Invite him over,' she said. 'We want you to invite him over for dinner tomorrow. We haven't really had a chance to meet him.'
She glanced from mother to mother, confused. One moment they were being totally crazy, the next they were behaving like typical concerned parents. She shook her head in disbelief. 'Is this some kind of test or what?'
'Test?' Mother Margeaux laughed. 'Heavens, no. And we don't mean to put any pressure on you. But, as you know, we have brought you up in an atmosphere of complete honesty and openness, and we just want to state our position at the outset. I'm sure you will agree that acknowledgement of the reality of this situation is preferable to the clandestine deceit and denial practiced by most families. You are now a woman, faced with a woman's choices, and we recognize that fact.'
'It's big.' Mother Janine grinned. 'His cock is big.'
'Janine!' Mother Margeaux shot her a withering glance which wiped the smile from her face. She turned back toward Penelope.
'Will you ask him to dinner?'
She nodded, still too stunned to know how to react. 'I'll ask him. I
don't know if he'll say yes.'
'He will.'
They were all silent for a moment, looking at one another.
Penelope stood. 'Is that all?'
'Yes. You may go to bed.'
She left the room and started up the stairs. Halfway up, she heard Mother Janine's off-center giggle. A moment later, they were all laughing hysterically.
Even Mother Felice.
The house was dark when Horton arrived home. The bulb in the living room lamp attached to the timer had obviously burned out. He braille-scanned the metal contents of his key ring on the stoop of the unlit porch, feeling for the smooth roundness of the house key. He found it next to the blocky squareness of the key to his long- discarded Thunderbird, and he used it to open the door, automatically flipping on the light switch as he walked
