"Don't worry. I'll take this bullet for you."

I winked, walked. I was not a winker. This worried me.

"Milo," Purdy called from the fireplace. "Come back over here. I want you to meet somebody."

He stood with a generically stunning woman in a black silk dress. There were thousands, or at least several hundred, just like her in this part of the city, on Hudson and Chambers and Franklin and Worth, perfect storms of perfect bones, monuments to tone and hair technology. Around here she was almost ordinary, but you could still picture small towns where men might bludgeon their friends, their fathers, just to run their sun-cracked lips along her calves.

"Melinda, this is Milo. I told you about Milo."

"Yes. Welcome."

"Great to meet you at last," I said. "I've heard so many wonderful things."

"By all means, begin transmission."

"You look beautiful. Purdy said you'd been having a hard few weeks."

"Oh, it's fine," said Melinda. "I'm not the first woman to get knocked up and puke."

"Well, I think it's very exciting. The home birth, all of it."

"I always dreamed it would be like this. Purdy has been so fantastic about meeting my desires. I'm afraid I've been really demanding. But we worked so hard to get here. I'm not ashamed to say how many times we tried, how many ways. But finally I'm pregnant, and I've never been happier in my life. Really. You are the best, baby. And we are going to have the best baby! Ha!"

"But not at the Best Place," said Purdy.

"I'm just so excited," said Melinda. "And I'm learning so much. I won't bore you with it all. But the doctors and midwives have been tremendous."

"So have you, Mel," said Purdy. "You've been tremendous, the tremendousist, the tremendousiast, of them all. And I speak as a husband and a grammarian."

"Is it weird to say how much I love this man? You have a wife and son, Milo, don't you? You know this feeling."

"Sure," I said. "The feeling. Absolutely."

"Why don't you two enumerate my amazing qualities," said Purdy. "I'll be right back."

We watched Purdy walk away, join Charles Goldfarb at the bar. He glanced back at us, waved.

"Would you like to feel?" said Melinda, tilted the tight swell of her belly.

"You're barely showing."

"It's okay. Touch it."

"Really? Most women I've met hate that convention."

"I never knew this."

"They don't understand why any man would feel entitled to-"

"Just put your fucking hand on it." Melinda smiled.

I laid my palm on her stomach.

"So tight," I said. "You could bounce a dime off that."

"Sounds fun. So, tell me, Milo, how is it all going?"

"Well, it's going great. I'm sure Purdy told you about the new arts pavilion and I just have to say-"

"Not that," said Melinda. "The kid. Purdy's other darling child."

"Excuse me?"

"What do you think, I'm just some clueless bitch? Ever been to Elizabeth, New Jersey?"

"Driven past it."

"Exactly. But it's where I'm from. Now I'm here. You want to know something? I really do love Purdy. I was always going to marry for money, but I had choices. I chose Purdy. I wanted Purdy's child. I wanted his first child, but I guess I'll have to settle. He could have told me from the beginning, I would have been fine with it. I would have made a place for that kid in our family. Theoretically. Now that I've met him I'm not so sure."

"You met him?"

"We had a chat. I was sick of his stalkery phone calls. I only told Purdy about one of them, the first, before I started to figure out what was going on. But after a while, I called the boy's bluff. I met him for coffee. He's in bad shape. Still a real spaz on those prosthetics. I gave him the name of a physical therapist."

"That was nice of you."

"I thought it was patriotic. After all, this boy gave his legs so my husband could enjoy the freedom to fuck his trashy mother behind my back."

"So you guys really talked."

"We had a cell phone slide show, too."

"Look," I said. "I don't know what to say."

"You're not to say anything. And you can take your hand off my stomach now. I just don't understand it. Hookers are one thing. We know how these guys have to work off some steam. But what the hell? She's not even that pretty. Wasn't even pretty. I feel bad for her. I have this sense I knew who she was, kind of. I don't blame her, I really don't. It's just, like, she's this black hole in my understanding of the universe. Why her? It must have been something."

"What do you mean?"

"What did they have together? What was it?"

"I don't know."

"The way they talked. Maybe that was it. Purdy and I talk, but I know there's a part I can't get to. I want to know what it was with them. Purdy will never tell me. I'll never ask. Who else is there who knows? Florida? That thug. Lee Moss? Well, not Lee Moss. He died yesterday. Did you know that?"

"I heard," I said.

"I'm just trying to understand, and it hurts all the time. And it makes me worry. About what will happen to us."

"Like I said, I really don't know."

"I didn't think you did," said Melinda, looked down at her belly. "Or maybe I thought you might."

"I'm sorry."

"That's what they all say."

"I don't know if this helps," I said, "but I'm going through something similar."

"You're a man," said Melinda. "You're not going through anything remotely similar. Just tell me this. Everything's going to be fine, right? That boy is going to leave us alone? Because I can't handle this right now. I'm having a goddamn baby."

"It looks that way."

Melinda waved past my shoulder, blew a kiss.

"Idiot," she said. "Thinks it's about trust."

Purdy announced we would be eating family-style at a cluster of tables in the main room. Servants, or, in the argot of this crowd, caterers, set our places, decanted the wine. Were they indentured caterers? I found a seat at a table with Charles Goldfarb and the women from the building, Lisa and Ginny. I couldn't decide if they were sisters, or lovers, or just friends. The way they picked food from each other's plate signaled all three possibilities. Every few minutes another platter would arrive, each with its menagerie of dehydrated food. The figures dissolved in your mouth like sugar lumps, but none tasted like sugar. There were olives in the shape of lobsters, lobster in the shape of gazelles, mahi-mahi in the shape of bonobos. Purdy's silliness surprised me. This was Vegas sideburn food, what the Apollo astronauts should have gotten in their shiny pouches along with freeze-dried banana splits. Maybe we'd still be on the moon if they had. We'd have time-shares on the moon, as so many otherwise visionary thinkers always assumed we would. I shared this timely thought about the time-shares with the table.

"But we went there already," said Ginny.

"One small step," said Lisa.

"I guess I'm just nostalgic for the future," I said.

"Funny you should say that," said Charles. "There's a bit about that in my new book."

"What's your book about?" said Ginny.

"Oh, a bunch of things really. I try to advance a new approach to transcendentalism in the face of technology and interconnectivity."

"Sounds amazing," said Lisa.

"Sure," I said. "But it's still the rulers and the ruled."

"Not sure how you mean that."

"I think you're very sure."

"Okay," said Charles. "Should we talk about the controlled demolition of the towers now?"

"That's not what I meant," I said.

Ginny and Lisa popped cockatoos into each other's mouth.

"Hummus!"

"Maybe. Saltier."

"Ladies," said Charles.

"Women," said Ginny.

"Dames," said Charles, and the women giggled. I knocked back my double.

"Think I need a refill," I said, steadied myself on the table.