of his own, laughingly called his good looks the family curse; Brett only hoped the boy would remember to finish his education and not run off to get married, and leave him alone.
An hour, and he kept glancing over his shoulder at the shade, at the dark window. Seeing the girl standing —
“Jesus, will you stop it, for god’s sake?”
He got up, slapped the back of the chair and strolled into the kitchen, switched on the light and opened the refrigerator. His stomach told him he had better eat something soon or he’d start in earnest with the snacks and blow his diet all to hell. But nothing he saw appealed to him, nothing prompted his taste buds to wake up and demand. The cupboards were the same, and so was the pantry.
“But I’m hungry,” he insisted.
No, you’re not, you’re bored, he answered with a sour grin, and decided to cure it by getting the hell out and going for a walk.
He took his windbreaker from the hall closet, turned on a few lights in case Les came home before he did, and left, testing the door twice to be sure it was locked. Another grin, this one quick and bright, and he stepped down to the walk, looked up at the moon.
Out here, under the elm that had taken over the front yard, it seemed perfectly normal. Huge, almost white; and he couldn’t understand why something so lovely had bothered him tonight, and had bothered him every night for at least the past week.
Not true, he thought then; not true at all.
He could mark the moment it began from the first time he had seen his son in what they used to call action.
It was last Friday, and he had taken Denise Quarell to the movies, to the Regency Theater, newly constructed on an old parking lot east of the Mariner Cove. It was a beautiful place, in brick and white trim, and the only indication it was a theater at all was the ticket booth in front. There was no marquee, no posters, the walls flanking the entrance broken only by curtained windows that looked into the lobby.
After the show ended, he had waited for her on the sidewalk, smoking a cigarette and watching with quiet amusement the other customers leaving. There were, in his eavesdropping, the usual arguments and discussions about the film, the refreshments, the price of a babysitter, the time someone promised a mother to be home, July’s weather, school, and work. Then, as he turned away to drop his cigarette into the gutter, he heard his son pleading with a girl not to be that way, for god’s sake, it was only a movie and why shouldn’t he appreciate what he was seeing?
“And I suppose you weren’t appreciating that hulk in the jockstrap.”
“Well, for god’s sake, he’s a man!”
They passed him, and he turned his head just enough to see them, hip to hip, heads together, the girl gesturing angrily with both hands. He stared at her back, then looked away and closed his eyes, trying to bring a name to the short brown hair, the slender body, the voice that sounded too young for her age. He snapped his fingers just as Denise joined him.
“You call?” she said.
“Amy,” he said.
“No, Denise,” she told him, half turned him and grinned. “Do you remember me? I’m your date.”
He laughed. “No, not you.”
Frowning, she stepped back with hands on her hips. “Not me? You mean you’re out with two women tonight? Is that where you went when you said you were going to the men’s room, right in the middle of the nude scene?”
The tease was there, in her eyes, in the set of her lips, and he felt himself blushing. He hadn’t left because of the naked woman, though he supposed his timing could have been better.
She saw how flustered he was and laughed quietly, slipped her arm through his and started them walking. “What, if I may ask, were you talking about?”
“Them.” And he pointed quickly at his son and the girl now a full block away. “I just remembered her name.”
“You could have asked me.”
“You know her?”
“Sure.” They passed the
An hour, and he kept glancing over his shoulder at the shade, at the dark window. Seeing the girl standing —
“Jesus, will you stop it, for god’s sake?”
He got up, slapped the back of the chair and strolled into the kitchen, switched on the light and opened the refrigerator. His stomach told him he had better eat something soon or he’d start in earnest with the snacks and blow his diet all to hell. But nothing he saw appealed to him, nothing prompted his taste buds to wake up and demand. The cupboards were the same, and so was the pantry.
“But I’m hungry,” he insisted.
No, you’re not, you’re bored, he answered with a sour grin, and decided to cure it by getting the hell out and going for a walk.
He took his windbreaker from the hall closet, turned on a few lights in case Les came home before he did, and left, testing the door twice to be sure it was locked. Another grin, this one quick and bright, and he stepped down to the walk, looked up at the moon.
Out here, under the elm that had taken over the front yard, it seemed perfectly normal. Huge, almost white; and he couldn’t understand why something so lovely had bothered him tonight, and had bothered him every night for at least the past week.
Not true, he thought then; not true at all.
He could mark the moment it began from the first time he had seen his son in what they used to call action.
It was last Friday, and he had taken Denise Quarell to the movies, to the Regency Theater, newly constructed on an old parking lot east of the Mariner Cove. It was a beautiful place, in brick and white trim, and the only indication it was a theater at all was the ticket booth in front. There was no marquee, no posters, the walls flanking the entrance broken only by curtained windows that looked into the lobby.
After the show ended, he had waited for her on the sidewalk, smoking a cigarette and watching with quiet amusement the other customers leaving. There were, in his eavesdropping, the usual arguments and discussions about the film, the refreshments, the price of a babysitter, the time someone promised a mother to be home, July’s weather, school, and work. Then, as he turned away to drop his cigarette into the gutter, he heard his son pleading with a girl not to be that way, for god’s sake, it was only a movie and why shouldn’t he appreciate what he was seeing?
“And I suppose you weren’t appreciating that hulk in the jockstrap.”
“Well, for god’s sake, he’s a man!”
They passed him, and he turned his head just enough to see them, hip to hip, heads together, the girl gesturing angrily with both hands. He stared at her back, then looked away and closed his eyes, trying to bring a name to the short brown hair, the slender body, the voice that sounded too young for her age. He snapped his fingers just as Denise joined him.
“You call?” she said.
“Amy,” he said.
“No, Denise,” she told him, half turned him and grinned. “Do you remember me? I’m your date.”
He laughed. “No, not you.”
Frowning, she stepped back with hands on her hips. “Not me? You mean you’re out with two women tonight? Is that where you went when you said you were going to the men’s room, right in the middle of the nude scene?”
The tease was there, in her eyes, in the set of her lips, and he felt himself blushing. He hadn’t left because of the naked woman, though he supposed his timing could have been better.
She saw how flustered he was and laughed quietly, slipped her arm through his and started them walking. “What, if I may ask, were you talking about?”
“Them.” And he pointed quickly at his son and the girl now a full block away. “I just remembered her name.”
“You could have asked me.”
“You know her?”
“Sure.” They passed the
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