“No.”

“Come, let’s wash your hands.”

“Why are you going out?”

“Just for fun. Come on.”

“Where are you going?”

“Oh, stop, will you?”

That night the air was still. The heat spread over one immediately, like a flush. In the thunderous cool of the Laundry, past the darkened station, they sat near the bar which was lined with men. It was noisy and crowded. Every so often someone passing by would say hello.

“Some zoo, huh?” Robbie said.

Gloria came there often, she knew.

“What do you want to drink?”

“Beer,” she said.

There were at least twenty men at the bar. She was aware of occasional glances.

“You know, you don’t look bad in a bathing suit,” Robbie said.

The opposite, she felt, was true.

“Have you ever thought of taking off a few pounds?” he said. He had a calm, unhurried way of speaking. “It could really help you.”

“Yes, I know,” she said.

“Have you ever thought of modeling?”

She would not look at him.

“I’m serious,” he said. “You have a nice face.”

“I’m not quite a model,” she murmured.

“That’s not the only thing. You also have a very nice ass, you don’t mind me saying that?”

She shook her head.

Later they drove past large, dark houses and down a road which unexpectedly opened at the end like the vista she knew was somehow opening to her. There were gently rolling fields and distant lights. A street sign saying Egypt Lane—she was too dizzy to read it—floated for an instant in the headlights.

“Do you know where we are?”

“No,” she said.

“That’s the Maidstone Club.”

They crossed a small bridge and went on. Finally they turned into a driveway. She could hear the ocean when he shut off the ignition. There were two other cars parked nearby.

“Is someone here?”

“No, they’re all asleep,” he whispered.

They walked on the grass to the other side of the house. His room was in a kind of annex. There was a smell of dampness. The dresser was strewn with clothes, shaving gear, magazines. She saw all this vaguely when he struck a match to light a candle.

“Are you sure no one’s here?” she said.

“Don’t worry.”

It was all a little clumsy. Afterward they showered together.

There was almost nothing on the menu Gloria was interested in eating.

“What are you going to have?” she said.

“Crab salad,” Ned said.

“I think I’ll have the avocado,” she decided.

The waiter took the menus.

“A pharmaceutical company, you say?”

“I think he works for some big one,” she said.

“Which one?”

“I don’t know. It’s in Saudi Arabia.”

“Saudi Arabia?” he said doubtfully.

“That’s where all the money is, isn’t it?” she said. “It certainly isn’t here.”

“How’d she meet this fellow?”

“Picked him up, I think.”

“Typical,” he said. He pushed his rimless glasses higher on his nose with one finger. He was wearing a string sweater with the sleeves pulled up. His hair was faded by the sun. He looked very boyish and handsome. He was thirty-three and had never been married. There were only two things wrong with him: his mother had all the money in a trust, and his back. Something was wrong with it. He had terrible spasms and sometimes had to lie for hours on the floor.

“Well, I’m sure he knows she’s just a babysitter. He’s here on vacation. I hope he doesn’t break her heart,” Gloria said. “Actually, I’m glad he showed up. It’s better for Christopher. She’s less likely to return the erotic feelings he has for her.”

“The what?”

“Believe me, I’m not imagining it.”

“Oh, come on, Gloria.”

“There’s something going on. Maybe she doesn’t know it. He’s in her bed all the time.”

“He’s only five.”

“They can have erections at five,” Gloria said.

“Oh, really.”

“Darling, I’ve seen him with them.”

“At five?”

“You’d be surprised,” she said. “They’re born with them. You just don’t remember, that’s all.”

She did not become lovesick, she did not brood. She was more silent in the weeks that followed but also more settled, not particularly sad. In the flat-heeled shoes which gave her a slightly dumpy appearance she went shopping as usual. The thought even crossed Gloria’s mind that she might be pregnant.

“Is everything all right?” she asked.

“Pardon?”

“Darling, do you feel all right? You know what I mean.”

There were times when the two of them came back from the beach and Truus patiently brushed the sand from Christopher’s feet that Gloria felt great sympathy for her and understood why she was quiet. How much of fate lay in one’s appearance! Truus’ face seemed empty, without expression, except when she was playing with Christopher and then it brightened. She was so like a child anyway, a bulky child, an unimaginative playmate who in the course of things would be forgotten. And the foolishness of her dreams! She wanted to become a fashion designer, she said one day. She was interested in designing clothes.

What she actually felt after her boyfriend left, no one knew. She came in carrying the groceries, the screen door banged behind her. She answered the phone, took messages. In the evening she sat on the worn couch with Christopher watching television upstairs. Sometimes they both laughed. The shelves were piled with games, plastic toys, children’s books. Once in a while Christopher was told to bring one down so his mother could read him a story. It was very important that he like books, Gloria said.

It was a pale blue envelope with Arabic printing in the corner. Truus opened it standing at the kitchen counter and began to read the letter. The handwriting was childish and small. Dear Truus, it said. Thank you for your letter. I was glad to receive it. You don’t have to put so many stamps on letters to Saudi Arabia though. One U.S. airmail is enough. I’m glad to hear you miss me. She looked up. Christopher was banging on something in the doorway.

“This won’t work,” he said.

He was dragging a toy car that had to be pumped with air to run.

“Here, let me see,” she said. He seemed on the verge of tears. “This fits here, doesn’t it?” She attached the small plastic hose. “There, now it will work.”

“No, it won’t,” he said.

“No, it won’t,” she mimicked.

He watched gloomily as she pumped. When the handle grew stiff she put the car on the floor, pointed it, and let it go. It leapt across the room and crashed into the opposite wall. He went over and nudged it with his foot.

“Do you want to play with it?”

“No.”

“Then pick it up and put it away.”

“He didn’t move.

“Put… it… away…” she said, in a deep voice, coming toward him one step at a time. He watched from the corner of his eye. Another tottering step. “Or I eat you,” she growled.

He ran for the stairs shrieking. She continued to chant, shuffling slowly toward the stairs. The dog was barking. Gloria came in the door, reaching down to pull off her shoes and kick them to one side. “Hi, any calls?” she asked.

Truus abandoned her performance. “No. No one.”

Gloria had been visiting her mother, which was always tiresome. She looked around. Something was going on, she realized. “Where’s Christopher?”

A glint of blond hair appeared above the landing.

“Hello, darling,” she said. There was a pause. “Mummy said hello. What’s wrong? What’s happening?”

“We’re just playing a game,” Truus explained.

“Well, stop playing for a moment and come and kiss me.”

She took him into the living room. Truus went upstairs. Sometime later she heard her name being called. She folded the letter which she had read for the fifth or sixth time and went to the head of the stairs. “Yes?”

“Can you come down?” Gloria called. “He’s driving me crazy.

“He’s impossible,” she said, when Truus arrived. “He spilled his milk, he’s kicked over the dog water. Look at this mess!”