“I’m not sure.”
“If he could, he could put an ad in the
“I think it was just a car in the background.”
“Then you’ve got to give him something else,” Howard says.
“For what? You want your sister to have a one-night stand?”
“You make him sound awfully attractive,” Howard says.
“Yeah, but what if he’s a rat? It could be argued that he was just cocky, and that he was pretty sure that I’d respond. Don’t you think?”
“I think you should get in touch with him. Do it in some amusing way if you want, but I wouldn’t let him slip away.”
“I never had him. And from the looks of it he has a wife.”
“You don’t know that.”
“No,” I say. “I guess I don’t know.”
“Do it,” Howard says. “I think you need this,” and when he speaks he whispers—just what a girl would do. He nods his head yes. “Do it,” he whispers again. Then he turns his head abruptly, to see what I am staring at. It is Kate, wrapped in a towel after her bath, trailing the long cord of the extension phone with her.
“It’s Frank,” she whispers, her hand over the mouthpiece. “He says he’s going to come to the party after all.”
I look at her dumbly, surprised. I’d almost forgotten that Frank knew I was here. He’s only been here once with me, and it was clear that he didn’t like Howard and Kate. Why would he suddenly decide to come to the party?
She shrugs, hand still over the mouthpiece. “Come here,” she whispers.
I get up and start toward the phone. “If it’s not an awful imposition,” she says, “maybe he could bring Deirdre’s father with him. He lives just around the corner from you in the city.”
“Deirdre’s father?” I say.
“Here,” she whispers. “He’ll hang up.”
“Hi, Frank,” I say, talking into the phone. My voice sounds high, false.
“I miss you,” Frank says. “I’ve got to get out of the city. I invited myself. I assume since it’s an annual invitation it’s all right, right?”
“Oh, of course,” I say. “Can you just hold on for one second?”
“Sure,” he says.
I cover the mouthpiece again. Kate is still standing next to me.
“I was talking to Deirdre’s mother in the bathroom,” Kate whispers. “She says that her ex-husband’s not really able to drive yet, and that Deirdre has been crying all day. If he could just give him a lift, they could take the train back, but—”
“Frank? This is sort of crazy, and I don’t quite understand the logistics, but I’m going to put Kate on. We need for you to do us a favor.”
“Anything,” he says. “As long as it’s not about Mrs. Joan Wilde-Younge’s revision of a revision of a revision of a spiteful will.”
I hand the phone to Kate. “Frank?” she says. “You’re about to make a new friend. Be very nice to him, because he just had his gallbladder out, and he’s got about as much strength as seaweed. He lives on Seventy-ninth Street.”
I am in the car with Howard, huddled in my coat and the poncho. We are on what seems like an ironic mission. We are going to the 7-Eleven to get ice. The moon is shining brightly, and patches of snow shine like stepping stones in the field on my side of the car. Howard puts on his directional signal suddenly and turns, and I look over my shoulder to make sure we’re not going to be hit from behind.
“Sorry,” he says. “My mind was wandering. Not that it’s the best-marked road to begin with.”
Miles Davis is on the tape deck—the very quiet kind of Miles Davis.
“We’ve got a second for a detour,” he says.
“Why are we detouring?”
“Just for a second,” Howard says.
“It’s freezing,” I say, dropping my chin to speak the words so my throat will warm up for a second. I raise my head. My clavicle is colder.
“What you said about kinetic energy made me think about doing this,” Howard says. “You can confide in me and I can confide in you, right?”
“What are you talking about?”
“This,” he says, turning onto property marked “NO TRESPASSING.” The road is quite rutted where he turns onto it, but as it begins to weave up the hill it smooths out a little. He is driving with both hands gripping the wheel hard, sitting forward in the seat as if the extra inch, plus the brights, will help him see more clearly. The road levels off, and to our right is a pond. It is not frozen, but ice clings to the sides, like scum in an aquarium. Howard clicks out the tape, and we sit there in the cold and silence. He turns off the ignition.
