S is for Silence

18

Friday, July 3, 1953

Chet Cramer sat in his four-door Bel Air sedan, smoking a cigarette, a pleasure he relegated to the end of his day. The windows were cranked open, including the two wing windows, which he’d angled in hopes of capturing fresh air. He loved this car. The Bel Air series was top of the line, with four models: the two-door sport coupe, the two-door convertible, and the two-door and four-door sedans. All had automatic transmission, radio, and heater as standard equipment. His was two-toned; the top Woodland Green, the lower portion Sun Gold, a combination he’d personally selected for himself. The colors reminded him of the green and gold of the old Lucky Strike cigarette pack. When World War II came along, the government had needed the titanium used in the green ink and the bronze used in its gold, so Lucky Strike had abandoned the color scheme in favor of a white pack with a red bull’s-eye. When he first started smoking, he’d been attracted to Lucky Strike because of the slogan-Be Happy, Go Lucky-which seemed ironic in retrospect. He hadn’t been happy-go-lucky since the death of his father in 1925. Recently he’d switched brands, thinking to disassociate himself altogether from the notions of happiness and luck. The new Kent cigarette, with its Micronite filter, was billed as “the greatest health protection in cigarette history.” He wasn’t sure why he was concerned about protecting his health, but he didn’t think it hurt to cut down on tar and nicotine.

He popped open the glove compartment and took out the sterling silver flask he’d inherited from his dad. He kept it filled with vodka from his office supply, and he used it to fortify himself before he went home each day. He preferred rye whiskey but couldn’t afford to greet Livia smelling like a loaf of delicatessen bread. He unscrewed the lid and took a slug. He felt the heat of the liquor going down, but it didn’t dissolve the ache in his chest. He checked the clock on the dashboard. 5:22. By 6:15 he’d be having dinner with his wife and daughter, after which he thought he might as well go back to work. He’d taken advantage of the July 4^th weekend to advertise a “Firecracker of a Sale.” During special promotions of this sort he devoted long hours to the dealership as a matter of course, and now that he’d fired Winston, he’d have to shoulder the kid’s load, such as it was. He saw work as a blessing, a way of immersing himself in the here and now. At the moment, he was only going through the motions, knowing it was easier to stick to his routines than to try to make sense out of what had happened to him.

He’d parked facing south on New Cut Road, halfway between Highway 166 and the point at which the road construction ended. The Tanner house was dead-center in his line of vision. To his immediate left was a gravel road leading back to the old Aldrich packing plant. The swing-arm gate across the entrance was padlocked and had been for years, so the spot was the perfect place to unwind. The midsummer air was humid. In his rearview mirror, he could see a breeze undulating across the fields, ruffling the dark green leaves of the sugar beets. A tractor trundled by hauling a bulldozer on a low-boy flatbed, the only traffic he’d seen for the past hour. While he watched, the driver did a clumsy K-turn and positioned his rig in preparation for unloading. Chet took another slug of vodka, dwelling on the trivial while he tried to assimilate the grand.

Wednesday seemed like a lifetime ago, though it was only two days. He hadn’t known how depressed he was until Violet cracked through his life like a lightning bolt. She’d been dazzling, and for the first time in his life he’d been engulfed by desire. He felt like she’d doused him with gasoline and set him afire. The minute she’d proposed a drink, he’d seen where she was headed. Dazed, he’d followed her out to his car, tossing an explanation to Kathy as he left. He couldn’t remember now what he’d said to her, some lame excuse she’d accepted with a shrug. For once, he’d been grateful his daughter was such a dunce. Despite her moony crushes on movie stars, she was sexually backward, too naive to recognize the chemistry that had flashed so suddenly between Violet and him.

After leaving the dealership, Violet abandoned all talk of his buying her a drink. They got in his car and she directed him to the Sandman Motel, which was two blocks away. He hadn’t noticed it before, but Violet was clearly well acquainted with the place. She’d instructed him to check in as a single, under an assumed name. She waited outside while he registered as William Durant, which was actually the name of the man who founded General Motors back in 1908. He was afraid the desk clerk would catch the joke, but she didn’t bat an eye. Having deceived her to that extent, he invented a fictitious home address and a detailed explanation of why he needed a room. He was more imaginative than he’d thought. He went on lying through his teeth, flirting with the girl until she blushed a becoming pink. He paid for the room, took the key, and returned to his car.

Violet was gone, but he spotted her at the far end of the parking lot, leaning against the wire fence that surrounded the swimming pool. She waited until he’d parked outside the room, and then she stepped on her cigarette and ambled in his direction, taking her sweet time. She must have known what a picture she made-sunlight shining on her red hair, her figure fully defined by the tight purple sundress. He was trembling at the prospect of having her.

When she reached him, she held out her hand. He dropped the key in her palm and watched as she unlocked the door. He followed her in, marveling at his calm. He had no idea what she expected of him. She set the key on the bed table and turned to him. “I bought you a bottle of vodka, but then forgot the damn thing and left it at home. Sorry ‘bout that. I thought you might need a couple of belts to soothe your nerves.”

“You planned this?”

“Sweetie, do I look like an idiot? I’ve seen you watching me. You think I don’t know what’s been going through your head?”

“Our paths hardly cross.”

“No fault of mine. If you weren’t so straightlaced, I’d have done this ages ago. I got tired of waiting for you to make a move. So here we are-surprise, surprise.”

“But why?”

She laughed. “Don’t underestimate yourself. You’re a good-looking guy and you’re sexy as hell. I’ll tell you something else. You’ve been working too hard. I can see it in your face. When’s the last time you cut loose and had fun, for god’s sake?”

“I’m… I don’t know what to say.”

“Who asked you to talk? Did I say anything about chatting, Chet?” She was making a little joke of his name, but he found he didn’t mind. She sat down on the bed, patting the place beside her. “Look at you. All tense. Come over here and I’ll help you relax.”

He crossed to the bed, moving as though drugged. When he reached her, she rubbed the palm of one hand against the front of his pants. “My, oh my. This is going to be good.”

She’d been gentle and sweet, guiding him through a process so highly charged and novel he felt his heart would stop. Nothing with Livia had ever prepared him for such heat. Violet thought his shyness was a riot after all the bullshit he’d laid on her earlier. She’d said, “Big tough guy” in a way that made him laugh. How could she mock him and make him feel good at the same time?

Later, under her patient tutelage, she’d murmured. “Right there, Sweetie. Oh, that’s nice. Keep doing that.”

She seemed to enjoy bossing him around, inflicting occasional tiny jolts of pain that sent his pleasure soaring into the stratosphere. She liked being in charge, liked making him groan at certain little tricks she had. They made love for an hour, and at the end of it she pulled away from him, laughing and out of breath. “That’s it for you, Stud.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong. I gotta scoot, that’s all. Daisy’s parked with a neighbor and I can’t be late picking her up. Foley’s a psycho when it comes to how I spend my days. Plus, my neighbor’s a bitch and I wouldn’t put it past her to mention it to him. How’re you doing?”

He laughed. “Fine. I can’t move.”

“Good. I’m glad. Shows I treated you right.”

He remained stretched out naked on the bed as she pulled on her underwear and slipped her dress over her head. She crossed to him and sat down on the edge, holding her hair off her neck so he could run the zipper up the back of her dress. Once her dress was zipped, she continued to sit with her back turned to him. “I know people think I’m cheap, but this is not about that. What happened this afternoon is just between us, something both of us want. I know I could have gone about it some other way, but you wouldn’t have agreed. You’d have been worried about Livia, worried about Foley, worried we’d get caught. I don’t want you to think badly of me. I knew if I didn’t push, we’d never get here.”

She turned to look at him and he could have sworn she was on the verge of tears. He reached up and touched her face. She laughed self-consciously, dashing moisture from her cheeks. She pulled the sheet over him. “Gotta cover you up or next thing you know you’ll get me going again.”

He started to rise, but she put a hand on his chest. “No, no. You stay there. I like your hair all tussled and standing up on end. It looks cute. You ought to wear it like that all the time.”

“Don’t leave.”

“I have to.”

“Give me ten minutes more. An hour. Better yet, let’s just stay here together for the rest of our lives.”

She thought about it briefly. “Thirty seconds, but that’s it.” She sat down again. She took out a cigarette and lit it, passing it to him. “You’re full of surprises, you know that?”

He touched her bare arm, marveling at the silky feel of her skin. “You’re beautiful.”

“I feel beautiful with you.”

“When can I see you again?”

“That’s not such a hot idea. You know it’s dangerous.”

“I like risk. I never knew that about myself until you came along.”

“That’s enough out of you, Stud. I’m out of here.”

She kissed her index finger and pressed it to his lips. She put on her sandals and got up, tucking her purse under her arm. “How about tomorrow at noon? I’ll have less than an hour, but that’s the best I can do.”

“Don’t you want me to drive you to your truck?”

“I can walk. It’s not far and it’s better this way.”

She left, closing the door behind her. He could hear her footsteps fading on the pavement. He wasn’t sure how he’d survive the hours until he saw her again.

When he arrived home late in the day-after his usual meditation out on New Cut Road-he thought he’d be weighted with guilt, but just the opposite was true. He was happy. Something akin to affection resurfaced, and he sat at the dinner table glowing with goodwill. Livia had made jellied salmon for supper, possibly the most disgusting thing he’d ever eaten except for her chicken livers. Nonetheless, he found himself watching her with a kindness rare for him of late. Where had that gone? He thought of himself as a good man, but he realized that as far back as he could remember, he’d been angry and cheerless. Now that had been erased. Even Kathy didn’t seem as tedious. He was secretly amused, knowing she’d never dream what her old dad had been up to. He could hardly believe it himself-the transformation from dead to half-dead to reborn. If she happened to mention his leaving with Violet, he’d invent something on the spot and he knew he’d get away with it. His was a whole new world. That it included lying, adultery, and certain acts that were biblically forbidden only made it all the more titillating. He asked for a second helping of canned lima beans, hoping he wouldn’t laugh out loud at the images still floating through his head.

He endured Thursday morning with his eye on the clock. At 11:50 he left the dealership, saying he was going out to lunch. When Kathy asked where, he said he hadn’t decided yet, but he’d be back in a bit. Feeling worldly, he checked into the same room at the Sandman. It was all so easy now. Violet arrived and moments later, in a flurry of discarded clothes, feverish kisses, agonizing groans, and grabbing at each other, they were both naked and lying on the bed. Her breath smelled of red wine and cigarettes, but he knew better than to ask what she’d been doing at the Moon so early in the day. What difference did it make?

The sex was even better this time, which he hadn’t believed possible. Already he felt comfortable in his skin, sure of himself. This wasn’t the lovemaking of strangers, but the intimacy of two adults. Violet could be rough, and she brought out the bawdiness in him. She was also outrageous, using language that sometimes shocked his staid sensibilities. She could be tender as well, in ways that made him want to weep.

Afterward, they shared a cigarette like lovers in a movie. He couldn’t get over this new sense he had of himself. Violet was tucked up under his arm, her head on his shoulder, face tilted back slightly so she could look at him. He looked down at her, saying, “What?”

She laughed. “How did you know I had something on my mind?”

“You’re not the only one with telepathic powers.”

“That’s good. I like that.” She was quiet, smile fading.

He gave her shoulder a shake. “Come on. Out with it.”

“I was thinking about what you said yesterday. You know, spending the rest of our lives in this room. That was sweet. That made me feel I was special to you, not just a cheap piece of ass.”

“Hey! Enough. Don’t say shit like that about yourself.”

“Well, it’s the truth. You know my reputation. I’m a wild child. I live fast and loose, but you know what it’s about? Under all the trashy talk and screwing around, I’m completely numb, like I’m already dead inside. So at least when I’m crazy drunk and out of control, I feel like I’m alive. Does that make any sense?”

“Jesus, you’ve just described my life. I don’t show it the way you do, but it’s exactly the same with me. You think I’m happy because I make a lot of money and live in a nice house? Doesn’t work that way. All my life I’ve been busy taking care of other people. This is the first thing I’ve done for myself. When I said that about spending the rest of my life with you, I meant it.”

“Thanks. That makes me feel good.” She seemed hesitant. “What happened yesterday, with the car? I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have taken it. I know I was wrong putting all those miles on it, but some thing came over me. It was like I’d just gotten out of prison and the world could be anything. The sunshine and the ocean. It was just so beautiful, flying down the road. I had all the windows cranked down and my hair was whipping across my face. I took it all the way up to forty miles an hour-”

“Shit, Violet. Don’t tell me that. You’ll give me a heart attack.”

“Well, it was an amazing experience and I have you to thank.”

“And for this.”

“Yes, for this.”

He was quiet for a moment. “You know I can make it happen.”

“Make what happen?”

“The car. I can set it up so it’s yours.”

She laughed. “Oh come on. Bullshit. You can’t do that. Are you nuts?”

“I’m serious. Tell Foley to come talk to me. If he shows up tomorrow morning, I can make him a deal.”

“Foley doesn’t have a dime.”

“I know, but we’ll work something out.”

“You’d do that for me?”

“Yes.”

“You’re not just pulling my leg?”

“I’d do anything for you. I mean it. I’m crazy about you.”

“You don’t have to say that just because we ended up in bed.”

“You don’t know what you’ve done for me. Everything’s different now. I’ve changed.”

“Not changed at all. You’re finally yourself.”

“Tell me you’ll see me tomorrow,” he said. “Otherwise, I’ll never make it to next week.”

She was quiet again, making a study of his face before she formulated her reply. “All right. Tomorrow at four. I’ve got something to take care of first so you gotta promise you won’t get your undies in a wad if I’m late.”

Friday at 3:45, he checked into the Sandman. On Wednesday afternoon when he’d registered the first time, he’d told the desk clerk a pipe had broken in his house, badly flooding the downstairs. He spun the story off the top of his head, never realizing he’d be checking in again the very next day. Thursday, he told her he expected the repairs to be under way, but the contractor stood him up. She’d been sympathetic on the first day and skeptical the second. Today, she was snippy, saying if he was going to check in again, why not just keep the room instead of using it for an hour, checking out, and coming back the next day? He hadn’t realized she was keeping track. He felt compelled to elaborate, talking about the smell of mildew, having to put all his furniture in storage. The phone rang in the midst of his recital. She picked up and turned her back to him. She went on chattering with some friend until he realized she didn’t intend to listen to another word. He took his key and left. What a bitch. He was a respectable businessman. It was no concern of hers what he did or didn’t do, or with whom. He wasn’t sure why he’d even bothered to explain himself. There were other motels. Next time around he and Violet could find someplace else.

He returned to his car and drove the length of the parking lot and parked outside the room. On the way over, he’d stopped at the florist’s and bought Violet an armload of flowers that he wanted her to see the minute she entered the room. He took the bouquet with him and let himself in. They’d twice been in room 14. This was room 12, and he noticed it was quite a bit shabbier. Not that she’d care. He knew the car was already in her possession, because Foley had driven it off the lot at 10:30 that morning. He’d come into the dealership at 8:45, and Chet had made him a better deal than he had any reason to expect. He’d been jovial through the process, knowing he’d be bedding the guy’s wife by 4:15. He’d despised Foley previously, but now he pitied him as well. He was too doltish and too much the brute to appreciate what a rare and precious woman he had. She was clearly more than he could handle-young, sensual, beautiful, spirited. Foley’d tried controlling her with his fists, and all he’d done was to drive her away. Chet knew how to treat a lady and he had the wherewithal to do it right. He’d already formulated half a dozen plans for getting her out of Foley’s house and stashing her somewhere close. At first he thought he’d have to leave Livia, which he was perfectly willing to do. A divorce would be messy and painful, but he was forty-seven years old and entitled to happiness. Of course, his daughter would be upset, but kids were resilient-everybody said so. Kids sensed when their parents were unhappy, and you didn’t do them any favors papering it all over and pretending everything was okay. Better to have it out in the open.

On further reflection, he wondered if his initial impulse was wrong. The more he thought about it, the more he realized how cruel it would be to put Livia through that-the public humiliation, the vituperative shouting matches, not to mention the reduced circumstances divorce would entail. After fifteen years of marriage, she’d be devastated. Better to take the high road and spare her the stigma of divorce and abandonment. His relationship with Violet was his to bear and he’d shoulder it like a man.

He’d checked the classified ads for apartments in Santa Teresa and spotted a rental he thought would serve. Clean and attractive, with an ocean view, it said. He could drive down to see Violet every chance he got. He’d fill her life with riches-clothes, travel, anything she wanted. She might resist at first, not wanting to be beholden, but now that the Bel Air was hers, she’d realize how far he was willing to go.

He filled the ice bucket with water and arranged the flowers, already fantasizing what was coming next. Compared to Violet, he was inexperienced and that was humbling. At the dealership, he was al ways on top-figuratively speaking-but here he yielded, allowing her to do with him as she would. Violet was the boss and he found himself giving up all power to her. The change was restful, a possibility that had never occurred to him. With Livia, he sometimes had to talk himself into making love. He had his physical needs, but it was just as easy to take care of them himself. With Violet, he was charged, half out of his mind in anticipation of her.

Oddly enough, he’d caught sight of her earlier in the day. Shortly after noon, he’d driven into Santa Maria to do his end-of-the-week banking, forgetting that the bank would be closed for the Fourth of July. He’d parked near the Savoy Hotel, and as he was passing the tea shop window, he chanced to look in. There sat Violet with her little daughter, Daisy, and Liza Mellincamp, having a gay old time of it. He smiled at how happy she looked, probably because the car was now hers. He was tempted to tap on the glass and wave to her, but he thought better of it. From now on, in public, he’d act like he didn’t have a clue who she was.

4:20. She was late, which she’d warned him about. At 4:26 he checked his watch again, wondering if something had gone dreadfully wrong. If she’d been unavoidably delayed, there was no way she could call because she couldn’t be sure what name he’d used when he was checking in. On the off chance Foley had arrived home unexpectedly, she could hardly excuse herself and go use the phone. Foley was paranoid as it was. Between bouts of lovemaking the day before, she’d let slip some of the things he’d done to her, the threats, promises of retribution if he ever found out she’d betrayed him again. Chet was appalled, but she’d shrugged it off as though it was no big deal. “But I’ll tell you one thing,” she’d said. “Next time he comes after me, that’s it for him. I’m out.”

4:29. Chet could feel anxiety roiling in his gut. What if Foley had gotten wind of their rendezvous? Chet didn’t dare leave. If she finally showed up and he was gone, she’d be furious.

At 4:36, he heard a tap on the door. He pulled the curtain aside, half-expecting to see Foley with a gun in his hand. It was Violet, thank god. He opened the door and in she strolled without a word of explanation. He waited, thinking surely she’d offer an excuse-errands, Daisy, heavy traffic on the road.

“Jesus, what happened? You said four.” He knew his tone was accusatory, but he was so relieved to see her he couldn’t help himself.

“That’s all you’ve got to say to me? I risk life and limb getting here and you’re pissed that I’m late? I told you not to get your shorts up your crack.”

“Of course I’m not pissed. I was just worried, that’s all. I’m sorry if I came off sounding like a jerk.”

“Where’d the flowers come from? You buy those for me?”

“You like them?”

“Sure, but it’s a lot of money for thirty minutes max.” She tossed her purse on the chair and slipped off her heels, which she kicked to one side.

“That’s all the time you have? I thought you said an hour?”

“That’s right. I got an hour and now half of it’s gone, so don’t hassle me, okay? We’ve got better things to do.” She began peeling off her clothes. Dress. Panties. She unhooked her bra, letting her breasts swing free. He couldn’t pinpoint her mood. Under the casual manner, there was an edginess he didn’t like. He waited for mention of the car, but she didn’t say a word. She might be uncomfortable expressing gratitude. She was staring at him. “Are you going to strip or just stand there and look at me all day?”

He undressed quickly while Violet pulled the covers down and got into bed. They made love, but with not quite the ardor he’d experienced the day before. His performance wasn’t all he’d hoped for either, though Violet was nice about it, saying, “Oh, quit fretting. Everybody has an off day. You’re fine.”

Afterward she swung her feet out of bed and sat up. Despite her reassurances, he was wary, wanting to make it up to her. He put his arms around her from behind, nuzzling her hair, kissing the smooth skin in the middle of her back. He could feel himself coming to life again where it counted. “Check this,” he said.

“Quit slobbering. You’re getting on my nerves.”

Teasingly he tugged on a strand of her hair. “So how does it feel to have your very own Bel Air?”

That brought a smile. She said, “Good. It’s great. When Foley came home this morning he parked it out in front and had me look through the window. I could hardly believe my eyes.”

She made it sound like Foley deserved the credit. Chet would have kidded her about it, but he sensed that under it all, she was depressed. “Hey, Henny Penny. What’s wrong? Has the sky fallen in on you?”

“I’m fine.”

“I know you better than that. What is it?”

“I just don’t see how I can keep doing this. Foley and I got into this huge fight last night and the fucker tore up the house. It’s like he can sense something’s off. He hasn’t figured it out, but it won’t take him long. Once he picks up the scent, he’s a regular bloodhound.”

“Has he said anything?”

“No, but there’s this look in his eye and it’s scaring me to death. I’m skating on thin ice. One wrong move and…”

“What?”

“I don’t know, but something bad.”

“Oh, come on. It can’t be as serious as all that.”

“Easy for you to say.”

He felt a whisper of fear. “So let’s take a little break until he calms down again. Tomorrow’s a holiday. I have work to do anyway so there’s no way to meet. This weekend, you can pal around with him. Go to the fireworks, take a picnic supper, do whatever you have to do. You’ll have him eating out of your hand.”

“Oh, sure. Make light of it. Good old Violet. Just hang out and jolly him along, kiss his ass, suck his dick, anything to pacify the guy, who’s been a maniac from birth.”

“I wasn’t making light.”

“Well, you don’t live with him. You don’t know what he’s like. You’re not the one he’s busting in the chops every other day. Lookit this, I still got a bruise from where he threw a friggin’ coffeepot at me.”

“So why not leave?”

“And go where? How far do you think I’d get?”

“As far as you like. If it’s a matter of money, I can help you out.”

“It’s not money, Chet. Is that all you think about?”

“What then?”

“Shit. How can I make myself clear? It’s just this feeling I get… like I’m in this alone. Who cares about me, right? In this town, I’m dirt, lower than the low.”

“I care.”

“Uh-hun.”

“I’m serious. I care deeply about you.”

“I know what you care about. Getting laid.”

“Now wait a minute-”

“I’m just kidding you, okay? I’m trying to lighten up. What good’s it ever done me to feel sorry for myself?”

“Violet, I’m on your side. That’s the point I’m trying to make. I’ve been thinking about it and it’s not a good idea for you to stay under his roof. So what occurred to me was finding you another place to live-”

“Yeah… well, not to worry. I’ll figure it out.”

“But why won’t you let me help when I’m seriously concerned?”

“Come on, Chet. ‘Seriously concerned?’ You think I don’t see what’s going on? This isn’t about me. This is about you and what you want. These past two days, you haven’t asked me one thing about myself except do I use birth control. Now how’s that for concern? Like you’re such a stallion I might get knocked up and ruin the rest of your life.”

He could feel his face go blank.

She caught his look and relented. “Sorry. I didn’t mean that. I don’t even know what I’m talking about. Why don’t we just chalk it up to that time of the month.”

“Is that it? Why didn’t you say so? Come here-”

“Would you quit with the phony tone of voice. That’s not going to solve my problem. Don’t you get that?” She got up and paced once across the room before she sat down again. She leaned forward, with her elbows on her knees, and put her face in her hands. She made a low exasperated moan. “You’re not hearing me, but it’s my fault. I’ll take all the blame. I should have made myself clear. What’s going to keep me safe, Chet, is to stay the hell away from you. You’re a nice guy and a good egg, but when it comes to screwing around, you’re an amateur. If I’m in jeopardy-which I am-it’s because of you.”

“But that’s what I’m trying to say. I can get you out of here.”

“No, you can’t. Look at you, goofy about me and all goofy for love. You think I’m the answer to your prayers, but I’m the quickest road to hell. I know you don’t want to hear it, but I’m telling you the truth. You can’t live this way, with all the sneaking around. It’s not in your nature. Basically you’re a decent man, which means you’ll miscalculate. You’ll make some stupid mistake and there goes my ass. I’m better off calling a halt to it right here.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“You see? That’s what I’m talking about. You’re not listening to me. You’re not only putting me in the path of a train, you’re tying me to the tracks. If you care-if you love me so much-why don’t you give me a fighting chance and keep the hell away. I can manage Foley, but not with you bumbling around. Because here’s how it’s going to go. One night you’ll walk into the Moon with a bullshit grin on your face. Foley will take one look at you and he’ll know everything. Then guess who’s dead meat? First me, then you, then him.”

“That won’t happen. He’s never going to know. Violet, I talked to him this morning. He sat at my desk not even this far away. I swear he doesn’t have a clue.”

“You wanna know why that is? Because it was about money and him trying to get something out of you. Also, because right now, we’ve been together three days and you haven’t had a chance to screw it up yet, but you will.”

“Wait, wait, wait. Let’s just think. No need to do anything rash. Look, how about this? I can rent you an apartment in Santa Teresa… under a fake name. You don’t like that idea, we’ll take off together and settle someplace else. I’d do that for you, I swear.”

She smiled and shook her head. “That’s your solution? You got a great imagination. I gotta hand it to you.” She found her brassiere and hooked herself into it. She bent over and maneuvered her breasts, arranging each in its cup. She retrieved her underpants and stepped into them. She settled her dress over her head and zipped herself up. This was a strip show in reverse. She came back as far as the bed table where she took a cigarette from his pack and tamped it on her thumbnail. “Look at this joint. They don’t even provide a friggin’ pack of matches. Can you give me a light?”

Numb, he flicked his lighter and watched her lean toward the flame, holding her hair out of the way. She took a drag, inhaled, and blew a stream of smoke at the ceiling. “Thanks.” She took the ashtray and her purse and went into the bathroom. Through the open doorway, he could see her putting on her face.

He followed as far as the door and caught her reflection in the mirror. “You’re telling me it’s over.”

“ That’s right. No offense, but let’s bail while we can.”

He was silent for almost a full minute, while he thought about the last three days. “You did it for the car, didn’t you?”

Her mouth came open and she turned. “You said, what?”

“This was all so you could get the car and now that you have it, you’re finished with me.”

“Are you saying that I fucked you to get a car?! Thanks so much. What kind of whore does that make me? You’re the one telling me not to talk shit about myself, and listen to the shit that comes out of your mouth.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry-”

“If you’re so sorry then why don’t you quit pushing me around?” Abruptly she went back to her lipstick, following the outline of her mouth. “You want to be a bully, take a number and get in line. When it comes to abuse, Foley’s got it all over you.”

“Are you crazy? You’re crazy. Don’t stand there bragging about how bad the guy treats you. I came here prepared to offer you a life.”

“Listen, Buster, I have a life. Might not look like much to you, but I’m doing the best I can so don’t you condescend to me.”

“Violet… don’t.” He tried to speak, but his throat closed and his voice cracked.

“Jesus, Chet. Be a big boy about this. It’s been great, but let’s face facts. It’s sex. Right now, it might be firecracker hot, but how long does that last? In two months it’s gone, so don’t make more of it than it is. You’re not going to run off with me. You’re full of shit.”

Chet took the last drag of his cigarette and flipped it out the window. He took one more pull from his flask and put that away. The tractor and flatbed, deck empty now, passed him again, heading back toward the 166. On the Tanner property, the bright yellow bulldozer sat with two others, looking as big as a tank. He hadn’t been on a bulldozer since he was eighteen years old, that ball-busting summer before his father had been killed. He’d worked construction, thinking he could set aside some cash for his freshman year of college. Nowadays the union trained guys to operate heavy equipment, but in those days, you got on a dozer, fired it up, and hoped you wouldn’t drive yourself into a ditch.

He turned the key in the ignition and released the T of the emergency brake. He made a U-turn across the two lanes of deserted road. What he’d been through with Violet was the equivalent of a three-year affair compressed into three days. Beginning, middle, and end. Over and out. He couldn’t help thinking she’d made a bigger fool of him than he knew. He’d been set up, duped. She wanted the car. It was obvious now, but she’d played him well and he half-admired her finesse. She’d crooked her little finger and he’d scampered after her, as frisky as a pup. He didn’t feel it yet, the shame, but he would very soon, once the liquor wore off. He knew his humiliation was commiserate with his joy, but the joy had been fleeting while the rage would burn at his core like the fire in the bowels of a coal mine, year after year. What wounded him was knowing she felt none of his pain. Now every time he saw the car, every time Foley made a payment, he’d cringe, feeling powerless and small. He’d go home to Livia and that would be that. His life had been barely tolerable before, but what would it be like now that he knew the difference?

At the house, he pulled into the driveway and put his car in the garage. Mentally he shook himself off, struggling for control. He had a part to play. He couldn’t let Violet ruin his home life as she’d ruined his work. He let himself in the house. The hall smelled of cabbage that had cooked half a day. He wanted to weep. He couldn’t even look forward to a good meal at home. Livia, with her heavy hand and glum notions about food, served nearly inedible fare-mackerel loaf, creamed chicken on waffles, tapioca pudding that looked like a clot of egg-infested mucilage spawned by a fish. He’d eaten it all, every variation on a theme, sometimes too frightened to inquire what it was.

“Daddy, is that you?”

“Yes.”

He peered into the living room. Kathy was sprawled on the couch, her heavy legs flung over one end. She wore white shorts and a T-shirt, both inappropriate for someone her size. She had a strand of hair in her mouth and she was sucking on the end while she watched television. The Howdy Doody Show. Talk about a waste of time. A cowboy marionette with freckles and a flapping mouth. You could even see the strings that generated his movements, his wobbly boots dangling on tippy-toe as he pranced across the screen.

Chet took off his sport coat and hung it on a peg in the hall. What did he care if the shoulder got pulled out of shape? He undid his collar button and loosened his tie. He had to get a grip. But fifteen minutes later, as he was sitting down for supper, Livia made a half-assed remark, saying how ridiculous it was that the South Korean president, Syngman Rhee, called on Christians and non-Christians to pray for peace.

He stared at her, instantly incensed. “You think it’s ridiculous the war might come to an end? After we’ve lost thirty-three thousand U.S. troops? Where the hell is your head? Rhee’s the guy who released twenty-seven thousand North Korean POWs less than two weeks ago, sabotaging armistice talks. Now he’s softened his position and you want to sit there sneering at him?”

Livia’s lips tightened to such an extent he was surprised she could speak. “All I’m saying is there’s no point in non-Christians praying for peace when they don’t believe in God.”

“Non-Christians don’t believe in God? Is that what you think? Anyone who doesn’t go to your personal church and worship your personal deity is some kind of heathen? Livia, you can’t be that idiotic.”

He could tell she was offended, but he really didn’t care. Cheeks stained with indignation, she snapped his dinner plate on the table in front of him with a force that nearly cracked it in two. He looked down at the meal, which consisted of a main dish and a side of cabbage that had boiled so long all the color had cooked out. He pointed to the entree. “What’s this?”

Livia sat down and arranged her napkin in her lap. “We’re having International Night. The first Friday of every month. Kathy prepared the dish and I think it’s lovely.”

“It’s Welch Rabbit,” Kathy said, happily, already lifting a fully loaded fork to her lips.

“Welch? There’s no such place as Welch. Are you out of your minds? This isn’t rabbit. It’s cheese goo on toast.”

“Would you sample a bite before you judge, or is that too much to ask after Kathy’s worked so hard?”

“This is shit! I can’t work a full day and sit down to a meal like this. There’s no meat.”

“Please watch your language. There’s a young lady present.”

He pushed his plate back. “Excuse me.” He left the table and went into the downstairs powder room, where he pulled out his flask and downed the remaining vodka in six swallows. It wasn’t nearly enough, but maybe he’d managed to survive the next fifteen minutes without going berserk.

He returned to the table and began to eat, trying to imagine how normal men behaved. Husbands all over America must be sitting down to dinners just like this, with wives and daughters like the two he faced. How did they do it? Making small talk? He could do that. Clearly there was no point discussing world peace. He glanced at Kathy, not looking too closely as she tended to chew with her mouth open. He said, “I saw your friend today.”

“Who?”

“Liza.”

“Oh.” She was so intent on stuffing her face, he wondered if she’d heard.

“Whatever happened to her?”

Kathy flicked him a look. “Nothing. Why’d you say that?”

“Six months ago the two of you were like Siamese twins, joined at the hip. She dump you or what?”

“No, Dad. She didn’t dump me.”

“Then how come you don’t see each other anymore?”

“We do. All the time. She was busy today. Is that against the law?”

“She didn’t look that busy to me. Unless a fancy lunch downtown counts.”

“Liza didn’t have lunch downtown.”

“I thought today was her birthday. Didn’t you say something to that effect here at dinner last night?”

“So?”

“So nothing. I thought she’d be spending the whole day with you.”

“We talked on the phone. She said her mother’s been sick and might even be contagious or she’d have come right over to celebrate.”

“Ohhh,” he said, drawing the word out. “Well, maybe that explains it.”

“Explains what?”

“What she was doing all dressed up with Violet Sullivan. The two had their heads bent together over shrimp cocktails.”

Kathy put her fork down and stared. “They did not.”

“Yes, they did. Uh-hum. Yes, indeedy.”

“Where?”

“The Savoy Hotel. The tea room’s on the ground floor. I saw ‘em through the window.”

Livia said, “Chet.”

“Very funny. Ha ha. And where’s Daisy all this time? Did you forget about her?”

“She was sitting right there with a big bowl of buttered noodles she was slurping through her lips.”

“You’re just saying that to bug me because you’re in a bad mood. Liza might have gone out, but it had nothing to do with Mrs. Sullivan.”

“Why don’t you ask her and see what she says?”

“Chet, that’s enough.”

“I can’t call her again. I just talked to her. She’s taking care of her mother, who’s extremely ill.”

“Okay. Fine. If that’s the way you want to play it. I’d feel bad if things went sour between the two of you. That’s my only concern.”

Kathy retreated into silence. Meanwhile, Livia sent him dark, meaningful looks that suggested a serious dressing-down to come. Chet didn’t intend to stick around for that. He wiped his mouth on his napkin and tossed it on his plate. He got up, working to control the urge to run. He could feel the spite rising in his chest. What the hell was wrong with him? He was never going to get back at Violet by making trouble somewhere else. Why put his daughter at odds with her best friend? The pettiness of what he’d done only fueled his rage. He thought he was close to madness, irrational, erratic, out of control.

He took his sport coat from the hook and shrugged himself into it. Livia had followed him into the hall. “Are you going out?”

“Yes.”

“But I’m expecting company. This is my canasta night. The girls are going to be here at eight. You said you’d take Kathy and go somewhere.”

He walked out the front door and slammed it behind him, so choked with fury he couldn’t utter a word.