Kiss of the Wolf

I called the police three different times in the last two days and I haven’t stayed on the phone yet. The guy answers and I hang up. The phone’s busy and I hang up. The phone’s ringing and I hang up.

I called Information in Seattle, Tacoma, and Sacramento, trying to find my father. They found a G. Muhlenberg in Tacoma, but no Muhlberg. I called it anyway.

The guy who answered told me there was no Gary Muhlberg in a three-hundred-mile radius. I musta woke him up.

I called Father Cleary back. I figured I could stay anonymous. Then, when he answered, I hung up, because I figured I couldn’t.

I called another parish. I called St. Ambrose in Bridgeport. The woman at the rectory told me that their Father didn’t have phone-in hours, and I said what if it was a spiritual emergency, and she said I could come in. I said I couldn’t come in, because I was a handicapped guy and the motor on my wheelchair was broken. She said Father could come out to me, what was my address. I told her I lived in another parish. She asked why I didn’t go to the priest in my parish. I hung up.

I gave up calling. I couldn’t think of anyone else to call. I couldn’t think of a single other person to call. There was a radio advice guy, but that was long distance and would cost money and my mother would see the bill. There was no one to talk to. I felt like putting a note in a bottle and dropping it out my window. I started writing letters to my dad.

Then I scratched that out, too. It sounded too desperate. Maybe that was why he left us, because we needed him so much.

I ended up staying up all night. At about two, I snuck downstairs and watched cable. I watched for about an hour. The TV screen was the only light in the house.

Then I thought there might be something about where my father went after Colorado upstairs in all his stuff in the attic. After he left, my mother and my grandmother piled everything of his that didn’t get thrown out into a big chest with a lid in the attic. So I went up there.

I didn’t even know what I was looking for. A map with a dotted line going from Colorado to some other place? A card from a friend of his saying, If you ever leave your family, come stay with me? Even not knowing what I was looking for, it’s amazing how little I found. A bunch of letters he wrote to my mother a thousand years ago. They were wrapped together with electrical tape! I had the feeling she wasn’t planning on reading them again anytime soon.

Also at the bottom of the trunk, in a little flat box like you keep Christmas cards in, a satin book that said OUR WEDDING.

I spent the rest of the time I was up there just looking through that. It got light out in the little crappy window covered with cobwebs over the stairs. I found photos of the reception, photos of everyone getting ready. My father looking jokey with two other guys, and a flat metal bottle in his pocket. I found their wedding ceremony they wrote for themselves. With the priest, I guess. Some of the prayers and stuff they didn’t write. The rest of the time I was up there, I read along in their ceremony, trying to figure out which words were my father’s.

Of course she was going to the funeral. She barely knew the family, saw the deceased twice a year, if that: of course she was going to the funeral.

She’d talked her mother out of picking her up. She was going; that was enough. This way she could come and go on her own, and her parents could stay afterward as long as they wanted.

Todd was staying home. He didn’t need to go through that, and not all the kids were going. The official story was that he had a fever.

She’d been up the whole night before. She felt like she was dreaming on her feet. When it got light, she made a pot of coffee, six cups, and drank it all. It didn’t seem to have an effect. She stood in front of the mirror at 7:00 A.M., putting on makeup. She tried to work up a little determination. This was her day to become presentable. To look alive. To start to take control of her life. Her eyes seemed half closed.

She put down her blush applicator. She ran her hands through her hair and pulled it back so tight she Chinesed her eyes.

Todd was snoring upstairs in his bedroom. She wiped her hands on her robe, and long hairs spiraled and floated to the floor. She left everything where it was and went up to check on him.

He was across his bed sideways, his feet and arms hanging off. It was already warm, but she pulled the sheet a little more over him. He turned in his sleep and said in a kind of delirium, “It was Wednesday.”

She looked around the room. He’d taken his posters down. Pieces of Scotch tape spotted the walls. There was a framed magazine photo of a Minnesota Viking, but that was it. The clean clothes she hadn’t folded were in one pile and his dirty clothes were in another. The piles overlapped. There was a map of the western United States taped to the wall by the phone. Colored pins were stuck in various cities. Whether they represented places he thought his father might be or had been, she didn’t know.

She went back downstairs and waited for more energy, or for time to pass. She felt thwarted and useless in her own house. She let the dog out.

She must’ve fallen asleep, or at least into some kind of daze. Hearing the upstairs shower brought her out of it, and she shook off the grogginess by making another, smaller pot of coffee, decaf for Todd. The phone rang.

It was Bruno. He wanted to know if she wanted a ride to the funeral.

She rubbed her eyes for a while before answering. “I don’t,” she said. “I want to be able to leave early.”

“So do I,” he said. “You think I wanna hang around there all day?”

The line was silent. She understood he was waiting her out.

“C’mon,” he said. “We can cheer each other up. You’re ready to go, we’re outta there.”

She leaned against the wall, wedging the receiver between her ear and the plaster. “All right,” she said. “I won’t be ready till the last minute.”

While she spoke she wrote notes to herself on the TO DO pad stuck to the refrigerator:

Coward
Asshole
Liar

“Be over in a hour,” Bruno said. He got off.

Despite the half-makeup job, she thought she’d better shower. Todd was finished and thumping around his room. She took a shower. He’d gotten water everywhere. When she got out, feeling a little better, he was in the kitchen, buttering a bagel. She sat at the kitchen table, her hair still wet, and combed it out. He brought over the two bagel halves and gave her the bottom. Recently he’d started keeping the best part of the food they shared for himself, as if life without his father made him selfish.

He put marmalade on his half. His face was closed off and concentrating, as if he was counting to himself.

She pulled at a knot in her hair. She had a headache. She thought, Is this what it’s going to be like from here on in?

“Do you know where Dad might be now?” he said. His lips were chapped and his wet hair looked like a modified punk haircut.

“You mean what city?” she asked.

“Where he is, what city,” he said. She could hear the weariness in his voice.

“I know as much as you,” she said. “Last I heard, he was heading somewhere in Washington. He never said what city.”

Todd tore off some bagel and chewed while squinting at the kitchen window. It was gray out.

“No guarantee he ever got to Washington,” she said.

A sports merchandising catalogue was on the floor under the window, swollen and frilled from having been rained on. She could see the circled Minnesota Viking helmet from there.

“You thinking of telling him about what happened?” she asked.

He shrugged.

She got up and went into the downstairs bathroom. While she dried her hair and put on makeup, she tried to think of what to say.

When she came out, he was gone.

She put the dishes in the sink. She got dressed.

She heard him in the living room. She stood on one leg, wrestling with the heel of one of her flats, and peeked in.

He sat on the sofa, bending a spoon into odd shapes. He had the TV on. She couldn’t tell what he was watching. It looked like a nature show on rodents. Brown things (beavers? woodchucks?) were rooting around a riverbank.

“You gonna be all right?” she asked. It sounded like she meant, You gonna tell? She felt, suddenly, like an old guard at a tired museum.

“Yeah,” he said. He didn’t look up. He had the spoon in an S shape.

She heard Bruno’s car in the driveway. She said she’d be back soon and headed out the door. It looked like rain. She grabbed a folding umbrella leaning against the wall near the dog’s dish.

The dog was sitting there when she opened the door.

“How long was Sewer Mouth out?” Bruno called, getting out of his car. He’d pulled up on the grass next to the garage instead of parking in the driveway. “All night, I hope?”

“I just let her out,” Joanie said. She moved aside to let the dog through and then shut the door behind her.

He watched her walk toward him. “Kid sick?” he asked.

“He’s got a fever,” she said. She ran a hand through her hair. “What’d you park there for?”

“He looks all right,” Bruno said. He gestured up at Todd’s second-floor window. Todd was looking down at them.

She could feel herself blush. “What’re you supposed to see, fever germs?” she asked. “You ready?”

“You look like you got a fever yourself,” he said.

She came around the back of his car and opened the passenger door.

“Can we take your car?” he asked. “Mine’s fucked up.”

“Why? How?” She hung on the door handle like there was a strong wind.

“How do I know how? It stalled four times comin’ over here. Is there a problem?”

“No problem,” she said. She turned toward the garage. She felt as if she could not sound, or be, less convincing.

She edged past all the junk inside the garage on the driver’s side and opened the door.

Bruno was still outside.

“Well, let’s go,” she said.

“Back it out,” he said. “What am I, gonna squeeze by all that shit?”

She tried to keep her eyes away from the front fender. She got in. All the coffee she’d had came back now, thrumming around inside her. She started the car. It died. She started it again. It died again.

“What is it, going around from car to car? Pop the hood,” Bruno said. He came into the garage and edged down the passenger side, his hands on the car body, leaning away from the wall to protect his suit. Shovels and hoes hung on nails, blades outward.

Please please please, she thought. She twisted the ignition once more. The engine turned over.

Bruno stopped, then opened the passenger door as far as he could and wedged his way in.

“Jesus God,” he said as a general complaint. She murmured in agreement.

She backed down the driveway, a little fast, she thought. She slowed for the main street. Bruno sighed.

“Things are getting worse and worse,” she said. She wasn’t even sure how she’d explain the comment if he asked.

“Tell me,” he agreed.

She was sweating. She rolled down the window. She thought about where she’d park at the church to hide the front end.

“So how you been?” Bruno asked. He put his arm across the seat and spread out. He loosened his collar. “You been okay?”

“I been okay,” Joanie said. She peered ahead like the visibility was bad.

“You talk to the police yet?” he asked.

She took a curve a little wide and overcorrected. “Talk to the police?” she said. “Why would I talk to the police?”

He shrugged and looked back at the road. “Just wondering,” he said.

They passed a sign on the side of a parked panel truck: REMEMBER: BEHIND A ROLLING BALL COMES A RUNNING CHILD. It was illustrated with one of those moment-before-the-disaster tableaux: a kid, a red ball, a nonalert motorist.

“J’ou go home One-ten the night of the confirmation party?” he asked.

She looked over at him. He was looking out the window. “I mighta,” she said. Her underarms were instantly wet. She was sweating at her hairline, too. “I think I did,” she said.

“Yeah, I told the police that,” he said. He was still looking out the window. They headed up onto the Devon bridge, and he was looking upriver toward the I-95 overpass. “They’ll probably come talk to you pretty soon.”

It took her a minute to get hold of herself. She stopped at a light on the other side of the bridge and put her turn signal on. “Thanks a lot,” she said. “Just what I need.”

“Yeah. Really,” he said.

They got going again. She didn’t know whether to ask questions or not.

“Hot in here,” Bruno said.

She reached awkwardly behind her with one hand and cranked the back window down as best she could. Her arm hurt from the angle and the vehemence of her cranking.

They rode along. She couldn’t decide what to say.

“You see anything that night, driving home?” Bruno asked. “A car? Anything?”

She made a show of thinking about it. “No, I didn’t,” she said.

He made a “that’s-too-bad” face.

“Do they think he was robbed, or something?” she blurted. She had no idea if what she was saying was disastrous, but she had to say something. “Did they find anything missing?”

“Actually, they did,” Bruno said. “A lotta money.”

She looked over at him, both hands on the wheel.

“Keep your eyes on the road,” he said.

“He was robbed?” she asked. She couldn’t keep the shock out of her voice.

“And you know what?” Bruno said wistfully. “It wasn’t his money.”

“It wasn’t his money?” she asked. “Whose was it?”

“The people whose money it was?” Bruno said. “Very unhappy. Very property-oriented, and very unhappy.”

“Whose money was it? How do you know all this?” Joanie asked.

“Whoa, take it easy,” Bruno said. “What’s the problem?”

She tried to quiet herself down. They stopped again, at a stop sign. She released the steering wheel and flexed her hands. “How much money was it?” she asked.

“This is stuff you’re better off not knowing,” he said. He looked back over the hood of the car like that was the end of that. “It’s clear.”

She drove through the intersection.

She didn’t know what to do. She had to do something. She had to say something. Did somebody think she robbed this guy? Did he? Was somebody going to come after her for that?

Say something, she thought. You must look like the guiltiest person on earth.

“Be good to get back to church, huh?” she joked. Oh, God, she thought.

“I can’t go to church, because I’m a cripple,” Bruno said. He watched Spada’s Blue Goose Restaurant go by on the left and seemed to check out the cars in the parking lot. “Instead I go to bars.”

“You look okay to me,” Joanie said.

“My goodness is crippled,” Bruno said. “My soul is crippled.”

The funeral was at Our Lady of Peace. They were coming into Lordship. They passed Avco-Lycoming, and then Sikorsky Airport.

Bruno sang about being a traveling man all over the world. He had his arm along the door and his hand on the side mirror.

“Ricky Nelson?” Joanie asked.

“Ricky fucking Nelson,” Bruno said.

They drove past Rose Park, which had no roses in it. The church was across the street. A guy in raggy long pants and a filthy ORLANDO: WATCH US GROW! sweat shirt was urinating behind a narrow tree. It was a pretty small park; he was exposed on just about all four sides.

“Look at that,” Bruno said. “I don’t think he ever got it out.”

“Speaking of that,” Joanie said, trying for something like banter, “you gonna behave yourself at this funeral?”

“My ass,” Bruno said.

She stopped at the corner and turned into the church parking lot. The place was jammed. There was a spot right up front, but she passed on it. She wanted someplace where she could nose the car’s bumper up against a wall.

“What was wrong with that?” Bruno asked.

“Didn’t think I’d fit,” she said.

“What’re you driving here, the USS Iowa?” he asked.

They circled the back of the church. He made a noise between his lips, like a tire losing air. They turned a corner. It was beginning to look as if there might not be another spot.

“Lotta people here,” she murmured. He didn’t answer.

“The car’s still in good shape,” he said.

They turned another corner. She was driving slowly, hoping the funeral would end before they parked.

“C’mon, c’mon,” Bruno said. “Grab that other spot and let’s go. Somebody else probably already got it.”

She accelerated a little. She had to go back out onto the street to circle the building completely. She stopped and put her turn signal on.

“How was it, talking to the police?” she said. “That scares me.”

He snorted.

They pulled into traffic and circled around. “It’s still there,” Bruno said. “Let’s go. Grab it.”

She turned back into the lot and eased into the space. She had about three feet of clearance on either side. Bruno looked at her.

“I didn’t think I’d fit,” she said.

Their front end faced the church doors. When Bruno got out she said, “Bruno,” to stop him where he was. She circled around to the back of the car. “Look at this.”

“What?” he said. He waited and then walked around to meet her. “What? What’m I looking at?”

“You think I’m gonna lose this license plate?” she asked. “The bolts are all rusted.”

He lowered his chin to his chest and looked at her.

“Oh, come on,” she said. She hooked his arm and led him down her side of the car. “You’ll be my escort.”

She tried not to pull when she got past the bumper. He put his hand on the small of her back. “So when’re you gonna ask me out again?” she said.

She could feel his eyes on her. She kept hers on the church doors. “Today,” he said. “Very soon.”

At the entrance she let his arm go and held the door for him. Once he was inside, she glanced back at the car. You could see the dents from there. What she was going to do on the way out, she had no idea.

She followed him into the entryway. Her eyes took a minute adjusting. It sounded like things were just starting. The late arrivals in front of them were dipping two or three fingers into the holy-water font and making the sign of the cross before heading to the pews.

She could tell him she’d hit something. But then why hadn’t she mentioned it before?

He’d never go for it. She had to get past this and get it fixed before he saw it.

The church was packed. Everyone was standing for the opening hymn. Bruno pointed out her parents in the last row on the right. They shoved in next to them, nodding their hellos. Her father leaned forward so he could make eye contact and gave her a big smile, as if trying to cheer her up. What did she look like?

She ended up between Bruno and a woman with a newborn baby. The baby opened its eyes wide and closed them. Joanie smiled at the mother, and the mother rolled her eyes.

It started to rain. They could hear it.

Was he playing with her? Had he figured something out? She stood and sat and knelt at everybody else’s cue. Could Todd have told him? What was this thing with the money?

“Where’s Todd?” Nina whispered.

“Fever,” Joanie said.

Nina gave her a look.

Just tell, she thought. It was an accident.

She had to go to the police.

A wind blew through her from some central point. It was just fear of embarrassment that had done all this.

She put her face in her hands.

Someone looking at her would have thought it was grief for Tommy.

When the service was over, they held up at the entryway to talk to Nina and Sandro. Bruno was four feet from the front doors and from seeing her car, and was clearly anxious to get going.

A lot of people were standing around, pulling up collars and buttoning jackets. It was still raining.

“We’re gonna go out the other way,” Sandro said. “We’re all the way around the back.”

“You going to the grave?” Nina asked.

“Yeah,” Joanie said, though they hadn’t talked about it. “Could we get a ride with you? No sense taking two cars.”

Sandro pointed. “Then we gotta bring you back here.”

“Is that such a problem?” Joanie asked.

“She’s having some people over, afterwards,” Nina said, meaning Mrs. Monteleone.

“Well, we could go over there with you, too,” Joanie said. “And then you could drop us off here.”

Bruno put both hands up, palms out. “Whatever,” he said.

“Sure, fine,” Sandro said. “Let’s go.”

They headed back through the church against the flow, relief blooming in Joanie all the way down the aisle.

The burial was horrible. It was raining, and people slipped around on the soapy soil near the grave. Sandro almost went down. Somebody in the group behind her was holding an umbrella half over her so that no matter how she moved, the water seemed to be draining down her neck. The priest did everything with thick, sad gestures that took so long that even Nina, shooing mosquitoes with a handkerchief, started to get impatient. It started to really pour. By the time they got back to the car to head for the Monteleones’ they were soaked.

“I didn’t see Tommy Senior there,” Nina said as they headed out of the cemetery. “You see Tommy Senior there?”

Nobody answered. Joanie imagined him still at home in his robe, too broken up to go to his own son’s funeral.

They didn’t see him at the house, either. They poked around saying hello to some people and introducing themselves to others. Bruno exchanged looks with two guys standing near the TV and nodded. He didn’t introduce them.

He followed Joanie into the kitchen. Mrs. Monteleone was supposed to be relaxing, but she was doing a lot of the work. She flexed an ice-cube tray, spread her hand across the top, and turned it over. The cubes fell out onto the floor.

One sister, in from Jersey, escorted her from the room. Another sister picked up the ice.

Bruno was shaking out his suit. He looked like he’d been hosed.

“Fucking day,” he said quietly to Joanie, flapping his sleeves. “You want something to eat?”

She looked over at one of the platters. “What is it?” she asked.

“It’s Italian, it’s meat, and it’s free,” he said. “That’s all you gotta know.”

She looked around the kitchen and couldn’t believe she was back here again. “You know what?” she said. “I don’t think I can take this anymore. I’m gonna go out for like a walk or something.”

“It’s raining,” Bruno said.

She stood up and ran her palms over her wet hair. “Yeah, well,” she said.

It turned out the back porch had a little overhang you could sit under and not get drenched. The front porch was out because that was the way everyone was coming and going.

“You go ’head out there,” Bruno said, once she was already outside. “I’ll bring some coffee or something. You want coffee? Warm you up.”

She said coffee’d be great. She sat on the top step so the door had enough clearance to open without hitting her back. The toes of her shoes were in the rain. She had her elbows on her knees and her hands rubbed her arms.

Bruno came back out with two cups of coffee rattling and tipping on saucers. He held the door with his foot. She took one from him. He’d put cream in hers and added an apricot cookie on the saucer.

He sat next to her. “Get close,” he said. They moved together so at least that side would be warm.

“Was that Tommy Senior’s brother, with the thing? The harelip?” Joanie asked. “He looked real sad.”

“Yeah, he’s in mourning,” Bruno said. “He just downed a slab a beef coulda served the Flintstones.”

Mrs. Monteleone opened the door behind them. She handed forward two lined Windbreakers, one canary yellow and the other white. “You’re gonna catcha cold out here,” she said. “I got you coats.”

“Thanks, Lucia,” Bruno said. “We’ll be in in a minute, anyway. We just wanted to get some air.”

“I got you sandwiches, too,” she said. She passed out two packages wrapped in foil. “Eat something.”

They took the sandwiches. She shut the door. “You believe her?” Joanie asked. “So good-hearted.”

“She wraps ’em in foil,” Bruno said.

Joanie put on her jacket and buttoned it up. She helped Bruno with his.

“Thanks,” he said.

“Don’t want you getting a cold,” she said. She smiled at him.

They could hear Sandro in the kitchen right above them: “You kidding me? He charged fi’ dollars an hour to build that fence. You could throw your hat through some of the holes in it.”

Bruno slurped his coffee and looked around for someplace to put his saucer. He unwrapped his sandwich and took a bite.

She knew she was flirting with him. She knew he was responding. She was trying to figure out how to get more information.

He was peering at his sandwich. “There’re like nuts and shit in here,” he said. “What’m I eating?”

She looked at her watch. They didn’t have anything at home for lunch. She turned over her unwrapped sandwich. Maybe she’d bring it back for Todd.

“So who’s the guy you were talking with after church? The guy with the hair?” Bruno asked.

“You jealous?” Joanie asked.

“’M I jealous. Acourse I’m jealous. You know me this long, you don’t know that? I see something I want, I don’t have it: knife in my side. Knife in my side. You know that.”

“I’m flattered,” she said.

“Miss Coy,” he said.

She nibbled her apricot cookie. He was pressing against her from her knee to her shoulder. The rain was letting up a little.

“Great sin, jealousy,” he said. “I run on jealousy.”

“Funny hearing you talk about sin,” she said.

“Why?” he said. “What am I? Jack the Ripper?”

She gave him a polite smile.

“He’s ascared, that’s why,” Sandro said from inside. “That’s why. He knows they’ll come after him.”

“I think about sin,” Bruno said. “What happened to Tommy Junior: that was a sin.”

She closed her eyes. Hail, Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with Thee, she thought. Blessed art Thou among women and blessed is the fruit of Thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death. Amen.

Bruno dropped his sandwich half on the step below him. He put his hand on the exposed arch of her foot, which was cold, and warmed it up. “It’s religion I got no use for,” he said. “You know? Religion? It’s like, ‘Repeat after me.’ You know what I say? I say, Why am I repeating after you? Who the fuck are you?”

She was quiet.

“Sin, I believe in,” he said. “The rest of it … You hear people talking about be a good this and good that. You hear ’em talking but you don’t see it. You know? You want to see an example. Mother Teresa? Fine. Where’re the rest? I hear about saints. All I see are Irishmen with red noses passing collection plates.”

Joanie cleared her throat and rubbed her nose.

“Don’t get me going on religion,” he said.

She flexed her toes under his hand. The shoes weren’t good, and the rain was going to ruin them. Watch the blue come off on my feet, she thought. She was beginning to feel more depressed than scared, which was saying something.

A police car pulled up the neighbors’ driveway. The dog in the house started barking.

A young cop with longish sideburns sat in the car and wrote something on a pad for a minute before turning the ignition off. Joanie was too frightened and surprised to say anything.

The rain picked up again. The cop finished what he was doing and got out of the car. He smiled over at them. He was wearing an elasticized clear-plastic covering on his cap for the rain.

The dog was still barking inside the neighbors’ house. She remembered it was the dog from when Todd was out sitting under the tree.

The cop fumbled with the gate in the fence and then came through into the Monteleones’ yard.

“Joey. How are you,” Bruno said.

Joanie looked at him and then back at the cop.

The cop pointed at her. “You Joanie Muhlberg?” he said.

She was conscious that her mouth was open. She nodded.

“Sorry to bother you here,” the cop said. “I been trying to reach you at home. Nobody answers.”

“My son’s home,” Joanie said. “My son’s home now.”

The cop shrugged like he wasn’t going to explain why the world was so nuts. “Nobody answers,” he said.

“So what’s the problem?” she croaked. She cleared her throat.

The dog was still barking next door. The neighbors’ back door opened. An old woman in a bathrobe leaned out into the rain. “What’s the problem, Officer?” she called.

“No problem,” he called back. “Sorry to bother you. Just want to talk to this lady here.” He pointed at Joanie. The old woman leaned farther out to get a better look.

“Sorry to use your driveway,” the cop called. “With all the visitors they got, otherwise I was parking in Stratford Center.”

“That’s all right,” the woman said. She was still trying to get a good look at Joanie. Joanie leaned forward and waved. The woman went back into the house.

“What a dog that woman’s got,” the cop said.

“Tell me about it,” Bruno said.

The cop stood before them just outside of the overhang. Runoff was splashing his foot. “I don’t mean to intrude,” the cop said. “My name’s Officer Distefano. I just wanted to set up a time we could talk.”

“What’re we gonna talk about?” Joanie said. She clenched her fist at how she sounded.

“This last Thursday night you drove home the route Tommy Monteleone was killed, right about the time he was killed,” Officer Distefano said. “We wanted to go over whether you mighta seen anything.”

“I already told Bruno I didn’t see anything,” Joanie said.

“Yeah, well,” Officer Distefano said. “Sometimes you remember things you forgot. Sometimes you noticed something you don’t think nothing of, we think is helpful.”

She looked back at Bruno. He arched his eyebrows in a “get it over with” way.

“Okay, sure,” she said. “You want me to come down to the police station? You want me to come now?”

“You don’t have to do that,” Officer Distefano said. “We’ll come to the house. Tomorrow all right?”

She flashed on her car, and Todd. “Tomorrow’s bad,” she said. She cast around for when Todd might be out. “Tuesday night? Could you do Tuesday night?”

“No, we got that thing Tuesday night,” Bruno said.

Officer Distefano looked at him, puzzled.

“That thing? We got that thing,” Bruno said.

“Oh,” Officer Distefano said. He looked back at her. “Can’t do Tuesday night.”

She tried to remember: when was Todd’s Ad Altare Dei? “Wednesday night,” she said. “Can you do Wednesday night?”

He said he could. They settled on seven-thirty. Todd was supposed to be at his church thing at seven. The cop told Bruno he’d see him later and then left. He had trouble again with the gate but finally got it. The neighbors’ dog kept barking, even after the car had pulled back down the driveway.

They both sat there looking out into the yard. Low spots were beginning to fill with water. “This weather is something,” Bruno said.

“You told him I’d be here?” Joanie said.

Bruno shrugged.

“He’s a friend of yours?” she asked.

He nodded and kept nodding, like he’d gone on to thinking about something else.

She felt that everyone knew everything but her, and she was the one with the secret. “Is something going on that I should know about?” she said. She was interlocking her fingers and squeezing them together.

He shook his head and stood up. He picked up his half-finished sandwich and threw it over the fence into the neighbors’ yard. Chicken salad flew out of it on the way over. “No,” he said, and turned to go back into the house. “There’s absolutely nothing going on that you should know about.”

When Sandro dropped them back at the car, it turned out that hiding the damage from Bruno was no problem: Bruno seemed preoccupied, and the lot had lousy lighting.

All she wanted to do the next morning was get the car into a body shop. She called around to out-of-town places, garages in Orange, in New Haven, in Hamden, and told them what she needed. She didn’t have a ride, so she’d be stuck there. Could they get the parts and fix it today? Most of the places said they’d call her back.

“Why don’t you bury the car in the backyard?” Todd said. “Just take it out back and bury it so no one ever knows.”

He was sweeping in the kitchen. Every so often he cleaned, to let her know how little she was doing.

She ignored him.

“Or we could like roll it off a bridge into a river,” he said.

She held the receiver out to him. “You wanna call the police?” He looked down. “You wanna call the police?”

He set the broom against the wall and left. She thought this was some kind of new low: humiliating her son because he wasn’t brave enough to do the right thing.

She sat around the kitchen thinking she shouldn’t have told them they should call her back; now she’d have to just sit around and wait. She couldn’t go out; she didn’t want Todd taking the return calls. She should’ve told them she’d call them back.

There was a little pile of dog hair and dust in the middle of the linoleum where Todd left it.

“Hello?” Nancy said. She had the back door open. One of her things was coming into the house without knocking. Upstairs, Audrey barked. Joanie heard her jump down from the bed.

“Hey,” she called, getting up. “C’mon in.” She shook her head bitterly at Nancy’s timing, and grabbed the broom and dustpan and swept up Todd’s pile.

“Long time no see,” Nancy said. “How’re you?”

“Okay,” Joanie said. “I didn’t see you at the Monteleones’.”

“You were out on the porch,” Nancy said. “I saw you.”

Joanie emptied the dustpan into the garbage and banged it to shake the dust free.

“I figured you didn’t wanna be disturbed,” Nancy said.

Joanie opened the linen closet and hung the broom and dustpan on hooks. “You want a cup of coffee?” she asked.

Sure, Nancy said. She opened the refrigerator and took out the coffee. Joanie took it out of her hand and pulled the coffee maker closer to where she was standing at the counter. Nancy sat down at the kitchen table.

“I had to get out of there,” Joanie said. “I couldn’t take it.”

Nancy nodded.

Audrey padded into the kitchen, head down. She sniffed Nancy and then left the room.

“Great watchdog, huh?” Nancy said.

“You see Bruno out there?” Joanie said. “On the porch with me?”

Nancy nodded again.

“You shoulda come out and said hello,” Joanie said. She slopped some ground coffee over the lip of the filter. When she wiped it up with a sponge, it liquefied and produced an unexpected brown smear.

“I didn’t wanna intrude,” Nancy said.

Joanie made a scoffing noise with her lips. She closed the machine up and turned it on. “You see the cop?” she asked.

Nancy looked genuinely surprised.

“Cop came and wanted to talk to me about Tommy,” she said. “’Cause I drove home on One-ten that night.”

“How’d they know that?” Nancy asked. “How’d they find you there?”

“Guy’s a friend a Bruno’s,” Joanie said. “You believe that?”

“Who?” Nancy asked.

Joanie put her head down to think of the name. “Distefano,” she said.

“Joey Distefano,” Nancy said. “He’s nuts about this. He’s like Bruno. He’s on a mission.”

Joanie felt a rising in her chest, like something surfacing. “What does he care?” she asked.

“He was a good friend of Tommy’s,” Nancy said.

Joanie put her fingertips and thumb to her forehead.

“You all right?” Nancy said.

“Headache,” Joanie said. “I’ve had it since last night.”

“Jeez. That’s tough,” Nancy said. Joanie opened her eyes and looked at her. She had sounded a little sarcastic. Her expression looked sympathetic.

“You know anything about Bruno and Tommy?” Joanie asked. She turned back to the counter and got out mugs. “You want Danish or something? We got a little Danish in there.”

“What do you mean?” Nancy asked.

“Were they good friends? Did they, like, work together? I didn’t know they were so close.”

“They both worked for that guy outta Bridgeport,” Nancy said. “Joey D, too. He was moonlighting.

“What guy?”

“That guy, you know,” Nancy said. “Ran the scrap-metal place. What’s-his-name.”

Joanie turned to face her. “I don’t know. What’s his name?”

Nancy shrugged.

“What’re you tellin’ me?” Joanie said, exasperated. “They all sold scrap metal?”

Nancy made a “don’t be a wiseass” face.

They heard a car door. Nancy stood and leaned over the table to look out the kitchen window. Her expression changed completely, and she flopped back into her chair. “Your boyfriend’s here,” she said.

“Oh, for God’s sake,” Joanie said.

“Ho,” Bruno called from the back door. Audrey barked. “Shut up,” he said.

The dog ran up to him, sniffing and swinging her rear end back and forth. “Get away from me, you sack of shit,” he said mildly, rubbing her head. He pushed past her into the kitchen, his thigh sweeping her aside. He noticed the new washer—dryer she’d just put in and he ran his hand over it.

“Thought I’d stop by on the way to the dealership, see how you’re doin’,” he said. He looked over at Nancy. “Well, isn’t this nice,” he said. “The girls’re havin’ coffee.”

“Hi, Bruno,” Nancy said.

“Joanie? Hello?” Bruno said. He lowered his head to peer up at her.

“Bruno, how are you,” she said.

“I’m not gonna take up your time, here,” he said. “You got things to talk about, girl things. Feminine hygiene. I just wanted to remind you about what you said.”

Joanie looked at him. “What’d I say?”

“You wanted to know why I wasn’t asking you out. And I never did. So now I am.”

Nancy looked down at the floor. Joanie looked away.

“’Less you changed your mind,” Bruno said. “Came to your senses.”

Joanie didn’t answer. Bruno stood there with his hands out, like he was waiting for something he was due. The coffeepot finished bubbling and spitting.

“Bruno, your timing is something,” Joanie said quietly.

“No, it’s all right,” Nancy said.

Joanie brought the coffeepot over and poured Nancy coffee.

“I got a boss waitin’ on me, here,” he said.

“Bruno,” Joanie said.

He put his hands wider apart. “I’m a slave for love. I admit it. I humiliate myself in front of other people—I admit it.”

“You want cream?” Joanie asked. Nancy shook her head.

“You think about it,” Bruno said. “You get back to me.”

Joanie put the coffeepot back into the maker. The phone rang. Bruno picked it up and handed it to her without saying hello.

“Hello?” Joanie said.

“This is J and L Gulf,” a voice said. “We can get the parts two a clock, two-thirty this afternoon.”

Joanie cupped a hand around the mouthpiece. Bruno dropped his mouth and raised his eyebrows in a comic way. “Look at Secret Spy over here,” he said.

“So it’s okay?” Joanie asked.

“Yeah. Yeah, you bring it in, we’ll get it done,” the guy said.

“I don’t think I want any coffee,” Bruno said. “I gotta get going, anyway.”

“Nobody offered you any,” Nancy said.

“No kidding,” Bruno said.

“Though you take it away today, you’re gonna take it away wet,” the guy on the other end said. “Long as you know that.”

Joanie pursed her lips, thinking.

“Hello?” the guy said. “You comin’ in or not?”

“Yes,” she said. “That’s all right.” She hung up.

“Ask Bruno about that guy,” Nancy said.

“Nancy,” Joanie said.

“What guy?” Bruno asked. He opened the pastry box on the counter near the refrigerator and looked inside.

“Joanie wanted to know about that guy you and Tommy worked for.”

Bruno looked immediately at Joanie.

“I was curious how you knew Tommy, that’s all,” she said.

Bruno shook his head. He lifted something in the pastry box and let it go again.

“Why, is he a mob guy or something?” Joanie asked.

Bruno made a disgusted noise and shook his head again. “Movies,” he said.

“Is that it?” Joanie asked.

He turned to face her and scared her a little. “’Mob guy’? What is this, the cinema? What are you, the G-man? You asking me if this guy is legitimate, one hundred percent? I say: No, he’s not. I say to you: Not many people are.”

“I’m just asking,” Joanie murmured.

“You’re not ‘just askin’. You say to me: What does he do that’s not legitimate? I say to you: None of your business. Here’s a good rule of thumb if you want to do something that’s not legitimate: Keep it quiet.”

The phone rang again. Joanie answered it. It was a garage in New Haven: they’d found the bumper but not the grillwork. She told them it was all taken care of, anyway.

“Gettin’ a lotta short phone calls,” Bruno said when she hung up.

Todd came into the room and opened the refrigerator.

“Man o’ the house,” Bruno said.

“Hey, Bruno,” Todd said, his head in the refrigerator.

“Hello, Todd,” Nancy said.

“Hello, Nancy,” Todd said.

“Todd know his mom’s bein’ questioned by the police?” Bruno asked.

Todd froze behind the door. The shifting and sliding sounds of his search stopped.

He stuck his head up and looked at Joanie.

“A friend of Bruno’s,” she said. “That’s all. He just wants to go over what they already know.”

She was about to say something else to reassure him, but the phone rang again. She made an enraged sound and snatched it up. Bruno chuckled.

It was the Orange garage. They couldn’t do it today, or tomorrow, either.

“So how’s your memory about drivin’ home that night?” Bruno asked quietly.

Todd spooned vanilla yogurt from the tub into a dish. He shrugged. His face flushed.

Joanie told the garage it was already taken care of.

“Todd,” she said. When Todd looked at her, angry, she said, “See if anyone else wants some.”

“None for me,” Bruno said. “Yogurt? Holy God.”

“Lemme make sure we’re canceling the right party here,” the voice on the phone said. “This is Mulenberg?”

“Muhlberg, yes,” she said. Bruno looked at her, and she rolled her eyes and circled her index finger near her temple.

“Muhlberg?” the guy said. “Not Mulenberg?”

“Poor Tommy. Terrible thing,” Nancy murmured to Todd. He nodded, but he couldn’t look at her.

“Muhlberg, Mulenberg, cancel them all,” Joanie said. She had to go; thank you. She hung up.

“Subscriptions,” she said to Bruno.

Todd stood in the doorway to the hall and ate his yogurt. “So when are you gonna be questioned by the police?” he asked.

“Sit at the table,” Bruno said. He was leaning against the wall with his arms folded. “You’re gonna get indigestion.”

“These kids don’t care,” Nancy said.

“Nobody gave Bruno any coffee?” Todd said.

“We never got Todd’s side of the story,” Bruno said. “You’re a passenger, you see a lotta things the driver misses.”

The phone rang again. Joanie swore.

“Get me a copy of Field and Stream,” Bruno said. “And get a copy of Modern Bride for Nancy here.”

“Fuck you, Bruno,” Nancy said.

It was Nina. “Who’s over there?” Nina said.

“What happened to ‘Hello,’ Ma?” Joanie said.

“What’s your problem?” Nina said. “I just asked who’s over there.”

“Nancy,” Joanie said. “And Bruno.”

“Who’s that? That your mother? Send her my love,” Bruno said.

“What’d he say?” Nina asked.

“He said he’s sorry he’s always rude to you,” Joanie said.

“Tell him not to get fresh,” Nina said.

“Don’t you hafta be at the dealership?” Nancy asked. “Shouldn’t you be cheatin’ some widow out of her life savings at this point?”

“Yeah, I gotta go,” Bruno said. “Todd, Yankee game: tomorrow night?”

Todd blinked, still holding his yogurt dish. “At the Stadium?” he asked.

“No, at my house,” Bruno said. “I’ll buy chips. Acourse the Stadium.”

“When did this come up?” Joanie asked, a little panicked. “When’d you get this idea?”

“When did what come up?” Nina asked.

“Hold on, Ma,” Joanie said.

“What?” Bruno said. “Just now. You heard it.”

“I got Ad Altare Dei Wednesday,” Todd said.

Bruno shrugged and turned his head slightly to the side. “And I’m busy Christmas Eve. But I’m talking tomorrow night here.”

“Okay. That’d be great,” Todd said.

“I’ll pick you up six o’clock,” Bruno said. “We’ll get something down there.”

“Are you still there?” Nina said. “Hello?”

“I’m not sure about this,” Joanie said, trying to get Todd’s attention.

“Thanks for your input,” Bruno said, heading for the door. “I’m outta here. Tell your mother she drove me out of the house.”

“She’ll be thrilled,” Joanie said. “Ma, you just drove Bruno out of the house.”

“I’m thrilled,” Nina said.

Bruno pointed to Joanie. “You think about where you wanna go. Remember, the date was your idea.” He had the door open and he pointed to Nancy. “Nancy. Hang in there.”

“Fuck you, Bruno,” she said again.

Bruno spread his hands wide for Todd. “I come in, I’m polite, I get shit on,” he said. He went out the door whistling.

“Nancy,” Joanie said.

“Well, he pisses me off,” she said. “Rubbing my face in it.”

“I know,” Joanie said.

“Rubbing your face in what?” Todd asked.

“Todd, leave it alone,” Joanie said. He tossed his empty dish and spoon onto the counter with a clatter, and turned and stalked off.

“Is he getting fresh?” Nina said.

“Ma, come over if you wanna talk,” Joanie said, exasperated. “Between you on the phone and everybody, I’m goin’ nuts here.”

“Pardon me for living,” Nina said. “Good-bye and good luck.” She hung up.

Joanie looked at the phone and blew out some air before hanging up.

She turned to face Nancy. She wanted to get rid of her so she could talk to Todd. She didn’t want to imagine Bruno working on Todd for four hours at a baseball game, and they had to figure a way to get out of it.

“So what d’you got planned for today?” she asked Nancy. “You want more coffee?”

“Sure,” Nancy said. “Pisses me off when he does that.” She handed her mug to Joanie.

“Bruno’s Bruno,” Joanie said.

“Well, that’s helpful.”

“Well, it’s true.” She poured what was left in the coffeepot. “There’s only half a cup here.”

“Make another pot,” Nancy said.

Joanie closed her eyes, her back to Nancy, and rubbed her face. “I think I’m out,” she said.

“No, you’re not out,” Nancy said. “I felt the can.”

Joanie grabbed the can and ripped off the lid.

She heard Todd on the stairs and then at the front door. “I’m goin’ out,” he called.

“Todd?” she called back. “Todd?” She leaned sideways to see down the hallway. “Where you goin’?

“Out,” he called. The front door slammed.

“Ah, they’re something, aren’t they?” Nancy said. She sighed.

“Hold on a sec,” Joanie said. She hurried to the front door. She swung it inward and looked both ways down the street. He was already gone. Had he gone around the side of the house?

“How could he disappear that fast?” she said, coming back down the hall.

She sat at the table, after starting another pot of coffee.

Nancy was the last person she needed to deal with right now. “I’m real busy,” she said.

Nancy looked down.

Come on, Joanie thought. This is your best friend.

“Hey,” she said. “How’re you doin’?”

Nancy leaned forward in her chair and put her elbows on her knees. She gave Joanie a little smile and looked down the hall toward the living room. “You heard anything from Gary?” she asked.

Joanie wanted to help, but she didn’t have time for this. And she was worried about Todd. “Don’t worry about Bruno,” she said. “He’s all talk.”

“I didn’t just bring it up because a Bruno,” Nancy said. “I been thinking about you.”

“Thanks,” Joanie said, but she didn’t sound as touched as she felt.

They both were staring down the cluttered hallway.

“You’re really letting the house go,” Nancy said. She sounded sad rather than judgmental, but Joanie was still a little offended.

Joanie got up and poured their coffee. She pushed the half-and-half closer to Nancy’s cup with two fingers.

“We gonna talk, or what?” Nancy said.

“What’re we doin’ now?” Joanie asked.

Nancy snorted.

They went all the way back to junior high. Joanie remembered a night before a Spring Fling dance, the two of them improvising to disguise the little cycle of good dance clothes they owned.

“The Gary thing got me down, and …” She searched around for something else. She was terrible at this, even when she was telling the truth. “Bruno’s been a pain.”

Nancy looked away.

“I’m sorry,” Joanie said. “You know what I mean.” What she meant was, I’m sorry about the way you feel about Bruno.

Nancy nodded. Joanie thought, This is a woman who never got one break.

She had another memory, from after high school: the two of them showing each other their diaries. She remembered thinking it was their way of proving to themselves that someone in the world might be interested. She remembered Nancy used little symbols, a code for herself. To make it more exciting? To save time? As a kind of modesty? Joanie couldn’t tell. She remembered some of the bigger ones: Three wavy lines meant depression. A skull and crossbones meant sex.

“I put up with so much shit from him,” Nancy said. “Like just now. He has to do that in front of you? He has to ask you out in front of me?”

Joanie gave her a sympathetic look, but she could feel her concentration slipping back to the car in the garage, Todd wandering by a police station.

“I should get one of those books,” Nancy said. “Women Who Love Guys Who Love … whatever. I went to a bar the other night. Mr. P’s. I called you but you were out. The night a Todd’s party, after we all went home. I just thought, you know, I don’t need anybody to go out with. I took a booth, I’m minding my own business, Bruno comes in with Joey Distefano and two other guys.”

Joanie sat up. “Joey Distefano?” she said.

“The cop,” Nancy said. “You met him. Bruno sees me, you think he comes over? You think he introduces me? He just starts joking.” She was lifting her mug and setting it down with her middle finger and thumb.

“What’d he joke about?” Joanie finally said quietly.

Nancy lowered her head, ashamed, and Joanie felt a pang for asking.

“Like he thought I couldn’t hear him,” Nancy said. She lifted her mug and set it down again. “So I drank three beers so I could make my own jokes,” she said.

From the living room they heard the jingle of Audrey’s tag as she scratched herself and the grunt when she collapsed back onto the carpet.

Joanie touched her hand to Nancy’s upper arm. “Sweetie,” she said.

Nancy stood up. “You know what? I’m gonna let you do whatever you have to do today.”

“You want another cuppa coffee?” Joanie said.

“You’re busy, I’m busy,” Nancy said. “Gimme a call sometime. I gotta roll.” She squeezed Joanie’s shoulder. When she opened the back door, she called, “Audrey. Break-in in progress,” and waved to Joanie before shutting it behind her. Audrey didn’t bark.

She washed out the coffee cups and put them in the dishwasher. It was already eleven-thirty. She made a nice sandwich for Todd, pepperoni and cheese. She cut it in half and sat next to it for a moment, like it was her accomplishment for the day. She covered it with a napkin.

She was all jittery. She had a three-hour wait before she could take the car in. If she left a little early, two and a half hours.

At some point she should eat. She made herself a half sandwich, of provolone only, and fed it to the dog.

She cleared out the hall. She swept upstairs in the spare room and found on the floor a half-filled mug of coffee that had to be a week old.

She called Brendan’s house. Todd hadn’t been there.

Audrey followed her from room to room.

She went out to the garage and squeezed past all the junk up to the front of the car. She studied the dents. She was trying to think of what to claim she hit. First she thought a pole. Then she realized there’d be scrapes, that the paint would look different and the dents would be less gentle. A bush? A deer? Did they even ask when you brought a car in? Still, she had to have something ready, even if they just asked casually. What would she say? None of your business? She got impatient with herself and left the garage.

She wrapped Todd’s sandwich in foil and put it in the refrigerator at the front of the top shelf.

She sat back down at the kitchen table. Did he have any money for lunch?

The phone rang. When she answered, nobody was on the other end.

She thought about how unhappy Nancy was, how little help she’d been. “When was I ever any help?” she said aloud.

Audrey pattered into the kitchen, assuming she was being talked to.

Those things they put near highway exits. Those barrels filled with sand: she could say she hit one of those. She tried to anticipate ways in which someone could figure out she hadn’t.

The kitchen clock made a small clicking noise. She scratched her instep with her heel. Her stomach was churning. On a scratch pad on the table she drew an oval, and put two dots inside it and gave it a smile. She drew a parody of her hair. She wrote JOANIE underneath it and crossed it out with a single huge X.

She went back out to the garage and checked the roof of the car. He’d hit the roof of the car. She got her eyes low to the roofline and saw the dents: wide and shallow, at least two. They were hard to see, maybe because the car was a dark color.

She put her hand on one, like she could still feel body warmth.

There was nothing she could do about those. What was she going to say? She hit one of the barrels and it bounced over her head?

She squatted beneath the junk on the wall. She was never going to be able to relax. The roof was always going to be like this. A year from now she could see Bruno running a hand over it and suddenly looking at her.

She calmed herself down. He hadn’t seen them yesterday. Neither had she.

She went back inside and watched TV, trying to figure out what to do. She was waiting for Todd and two o’clock. “The Andy Griffith Show,” “The Dick Van Dyke Show.” Rob’s boss had a toupee and something funny was going on with their not wanting him to know they knew. Two o’clock came first.

She tore off the top page of the scratch pad. On the page underneath, she wrote, Todd—Back soon—Sandwich in Frige. She swore and jammed in a d, making it Fridge. She added, Want to go to a movie tonight? Love, Mom, and centered the note on the table.

Want to go to a movie tonight? she thought acidly, backing down the driveway.

She wandered around Hamden for twenty minutes looking for the garage, unwilling to ask directions, as if that were the clue that would give her away. When she finally found it, the guy came out to see her, rubbing his hands with an oily black rag. He flapped the rag toward one of the bays, and someone else guided her in over the lift. She sat in a paneled waiting room while they worked. No one talked to her. New radial tires on stands were angled around as decorations. She sat near a table covered with People magazines that looked like they’d been dumped out of a box.

While they were still working on her car the guy she’d talked to on the phone called her over to the cash register. The bill was four hundred and something. She took out her checkbook. It occurred to her that she should’ve paid cash, so that no one could trace the check. But maybe paying in cash would’ve been suspicious to this guy.

He took her check and thanked her and told her the car’d be out in a few minutes. He reminded her that it wouldn’t be completely dry and that she’d probably get grit in the finish.

She sat back down. It was almost four.

One of the guys who’d worked on the car looked into the waiting room. When he saw her, he came over and dropped a quarter in her hand.

“What’s this?” she asked.

“Good-luck quarter,” the guy said. “We found it when we pulled off the bumper. Musta dropped down where the grill work got pushed against the chassis.”

She stared at it in her hand.

“Car’s all set,” he said. “If you’re sure you don’t wanna leave it overnight.”

“Thanks,” she said. When he left, she slipped the quarter inside one of the People magazines and burrowed the magazine deep inside the pile.

Todd wasn’t back when she got home. She called Brendan, and Brendan’s mother still hadn’t seen him. Was everything all right? Everything was fine.

She sat staring at the phone. He didn’t have a lot of friends.

She called another kid he’d gone to the movies with once. The kid was out, but his mother was sure he wasn’t with Todd.

She didn’t know what to do while she waited, where to look. The kitchen had a faint cinnamony smell. She called Bruno. She wanted to tell him she’d go out with him.

“Hey, there. Todd’s over here,” he said.

“Todd?” she said. She was standing, and she leaned back against the counter. “Over there? How’d he get over there?”

“I saw him wandering around, I picked him up. Why? Were you worried?”

“Of course I was worried,” she said. “I didn’t know where he was. Where’d you pick him up?”

“So anyway, what’s up?” Bruno said. “You callin’ to look for him?”

“No,” she said. “Put him on for a second.”

There was some muffled fumbling and talk. Todd gave a low laugh.

“Hello?” Todd said.

“Hey, you,” she said. “Why didn’t you tell me you were going over there? I was worried.”

“I didn’t know,” he said.

“Why didn’t you tell me, once you were over there?”

He didn’t answer.

“Did you eat anything?” she asked. It was all she could think to say.

“Bruno says we’re gonna go out,” Todd said. The receiver was muffled again and Bruno said something and they both laughed.

“What d’you mean, out? You mean for dinner? It’s four-thirty,” she said.

“Hold on a sec,” he said.

“Todd?” She clapped an open palm on her thigh in frustration.

“What’s up?” Bruno said.

“What’s up? You got my son all day, I don’t know where he is, and now you want to go out. I gotta feed him dinner,” she said.

“Yeah, we’re goin’ out, get something to eat,” he said. “We’d ask you along, but it’s a guys’ trip.” Todd said something she couldn’t hear. “The guys’re gonna do some talkin’,” Bruno said.

“Bruno, let me talk to him,” she said.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he said. “Everyone remain calm here.” His voice got faint, and she imagined he was holding the phone out to Todd. “Your mother wants to say good-bye.”

“’Bye, Ma,” Todd said in the same faint voice.

“He says ’bye,” Bruno said.

“Bruno—” she said. She was holding the receiver with both hands.

“You said you weren’t calling about Todd,” Bruno said. “So what were you calling about?”

She raised her toes and insteps so that she stood only on her heels, and then flopped her feet back down again. “I wanted to let you know we could go somewhere sometime,” she said. “Lemme talk to him again.”

“Your mom and I are going on a date,” she heard him say. She winced. “That’s great,” he said. “How about this Saturday?”

She thought about it, distracted. She still wanted to head off the baseball game. “How about tomorrow night?”

“Tomorrow night? Tomorrow night I can’t. Tomorrow night I got the baseball game with my pal Todd here.” He coughed. “She wants me to go tomorrow night,” she heard him say to Todd.

She waited. Out the kitchen window, she could see a neighbor hefting a huge black trash bag into a can.

“For you, we’re flexible guys,” Bruno said. “Also, because we haven’t bought the tickets yet. But it’s gonna cost you. Todd says you gotta show me a good time.”

“I didn’t say that,” she heard Todd say.

“Put him on,” she said.

“I’ll pick you up tomorrow night, six o’clock,” he said. “I don’t know what we’ll do yet, but I’ll think of something. I got connections.”

“Bruno, put Todd on,” she said.

“See you tomorrow,” Bruno said.

There was the woolly sound of another phone exchange. “I’ll be back around six,” Todd said.

“You gonna be all right?” Joanie said. “You got any money?”

“No,” Todd said.

“Well, you keep track of what Bruno spends so I can pay him back,” she said.

“Yeah,” he said. He waited.

“You mad about giving up the baseball?” she said.

“We’re not givin’ it up. We’re goin’ on Tuesday,” he said.

“Tuesday?” she said. A headache she’d been aware of for a few minutes felt worse. “I thought it was tomorrow.”

“It is tomorrow. And Tuesday. It’s a three-game series,” Todd said.

“Put Bruno on,” she said, gritting her teeth.

“He says he’s already out the door,” Todd said.

“Todd—” she said.

“We gotta go,” he said. “See you soon.” He hesitated and then hung up.

She held the receiver away from her and pitched it toward the kitchen table. The cord pulled it off the table and across the floor. It ended up near the dog’s dish, swinging back and forth on one end. The off-the-hook beep started.

Audrey furtively climbed the stairs, probably assuming she’d done something wrong. Joanie stood there with her arms folded until the beeping noise annoyed her enough. Then she replaced the receiver, poured herself a glass of orange juice, and ate the sandwich she had made for Todd.

Todd didn’t come home at six. He came home at eight. Joanie was watching videotaped footage of her wedding on the VCR when he came in. She’d been digging around looking for a tape they’d made of Todd as a baby—Gary holding him on his lap when he was eight months old and drumming his arms at high speed to Benny Goodman’s “Sing, Sing, Sing.” They called it “doing his Gene Krupa.” She loved the way he looked up at the camera and laughed his big, short, baby laugh.

But she hadn’t found it, digging around on the closet floor. The tape she’d found that she thought might be it turned out to be her wedding tape, made by a relative with shoes so squeaky it sounded like someone was playing with a child’s toy throughout the ceremony. Once it was on, she let it go, a little stunned by the unpleasantness of watching it again. It opened with a misspelled greeting from the filmmaker: BONA FORTUNA GARY AND JOANIE. Then there was snow and a glimpse of something involving a knife that had apparently been on the tape first. Then guests arriving. A champagne bottle. Her own back while she flounced comically for her friends. Gary’s father standing by a tree, looking glum. The guests inside the church, the video golden and grainy. Gary and his best man waiting in the priest’s chambers, holding up a hip flask and mugging. Jagged pans, a disorienting swoop past something, overexposed stained-glass windows, someone’s feet. A group of Gary’s relatives who’d come from Pennsylvania. Behind them, off by himself, Bruno, looking grim.

“What’re you watchin’?” Todd said behind her.

She hit the stop button on the remote like she’d been caught with pornography. The regular programming appeared, a sitcom. He looked at her suspiciously.

“Where’ve you been?” she asked. She’d coached herself on her tone while she waited: casual but concerned. It came out a little higher pitched.

“I told you,” he said. He left the doorway.

She got up and followed him upstairs.

“We went out to eat,” he said, without looking back. Audrey was following her now, too, the three of them trooping up single file. He walked into his room and swung the door half shut behind him. She pushed it open.

“Ma,” he said.

She had her hands on her hips. “You were eating all this time?” she said.

“I was with Bruno.”

“I was worried,” she said. The dog sidled by her into the room and walked over to Todd.

“Because I was late, or because I might tell someone?” he said.

The dog lowered her head and walked back out of the room.

He looked away. Joanie was staring at him. “Don’t you talk to me like that,” she finally said.

“I’m sorry,” he said. He turned on the stereo atop his dresser and sat at his desk. There was already a record on the turntable.

She watched the tone arm go up, over, and down. Some music she didn’t recognize started.

“Did you talk about that at all?” she said. “Did he ask you questions about that night?”

“No,” he said.

“Todd.”

“He didn’t. I’d tell you. Okay? I’m as guilty as you are.”

“Todd,” she said, shaking her head.

“I wanna listen to this.”

She stood there. The music was turned way down.

“Where’d you go?” she asked.

“Spada’s.”

She folded her arms. “You were eating all this time?”

He turned up the stereo. She crossed the room to it and hit the cue button. The tone arm lifted.

“Ma,” he said.

“I said, were you eating all this time?”

“I had to wait while he talked to this guy.”

Outside the window, somebody’s starter motor made a grinding noise. “Who?” she asked. She was afraid she already knew.

“Joey Distefano,” he said.

She sat down on his bed. “Todd,” she said. “Listen to me. Something’s going on. I don’t know what.”

“Are you gonna do this every time I go out now?” Todd shouted.

She stared at him, her hands together in her lap. She closed her mouth.

He shook his head and wandered around his room. “Could I have my room?” he said. “Could I have my privacy?”

“Todd,” she said. “This guy and Bruno are trying to find out what happened that night. I’m not sure why.”

“Maybe they just wanna know who killed their friend,” Todd said.

She was shaking. She took a breath. “Something else is going on. You can’t talk to them about it. You understand?”

He went to the window and leaned on his outspread arms and lowered his head.

“Do you understand?” she said, raising her voice.

“Yes.”

She sat there, unsatisfied. She wanted to let him alone. “You didn’t talk to him about that night at all?”

He started to cry.

She went to him immediately and tried to get an arm around him, but he pulled away. “Okay, honey, okay, I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m sorry, honey,” she said, and backed out of the room. She was in the hall only a second before he shut the door behind her with a bang.

He was gone the next morning when she got up. His bike wasn’t in the garage. She thought about calling Brendan’s house but imagined getting his mother again. The dog apparently had eaten something outside and had thrown it up on the living-room rug, a discreet greenish mess. She spent a half hour cleaning it up.

Her mother called and invited her out to the mall. She didn’t want to go. Nina stopped by, anyway, and talked her into it. For three hours they wandered around. Joanie sniffed her hand occasionally, sure she could smell both the ammonia and the dog barf. They had lunch at Taco Bell. Across the atrium, she spotted Joey Distefano out of uniform, sitting by himself and having an ice cream.

When they got home Todd was still out, but he’d been back. A plastic knife covered with peanut butter was in the sink. Otherwise, he’d cleaned up after himself. Nina asked where he was. Joanie said she didn’t know.

They sat around talking for an hour. Joanie made coffee. Her mother sniffed the air and looked around uncertainly. You could still smell a little of the vomit. She sniffed her coffee cup.

She asked what Joanie was up to tonight. Joanie shook her head, like it wasn’t even worth talking about. She didn’t mention the date with Bruno. She didn’t need to go through that. If her mother called later, let her find out.

Her mother talked about what a pain in the ass her father had been lately. She asked whether Joanie had made any progress with the lawyer about Gary. She meant about instituting divorce proceedings and getting some child support in the meantime. Joanie answered with shrugs and grunts and sat there preoccupied until her mother finally left, saying she had things to do.

Yet she went to the window and watched her mother’s car back into the street and felt nostalgic for her visit. She caught her reflection in the window glass: an unfriendly face, eyes she didn’t recognize.

She made pasta fagioli for Todd and left it on the stove. All he’d have to do was warm it up.

She went upstairs to get ready. She was tired, and defeated by her inability to even decide on what to worry about most. She held her hand in front of her to watch it shake and understood she was also a little excited.

In the shower, she gave the conditioner extra time to work. It seemed to make a difference when she was drying her hair. She used a little mascara on her eyes and Coty Softest Pink on her lips. She decided on the black zip-up with the culottes and the pink flowers. She couldn’t find her shoes.

She was ready by quarter to six. She went downstairs carefully, like the way she looked could be jarred loose.

Todd was sitting in the kitchen. She walked in and sat down opposite him. He looked at her dress and makeup.

“You see the pasta fazool?” she said.

He nodded. She could feel a bleakness gathering around their day. They sat opposite each other with their hands on the table, like cardplayers without cards.

They heard Bruno’s car pull in. This was what her life with her son had become, she thought: the two of them sitting in the kitchen, waiting for whatever happened next to happen.

Todd’s shirt was dirty. His hair looked like a rat’s nest.

Bruno looked great. He stood just inside the back door, like her date for the prom. She let her eyes work from his feet up, the way movie cameramen tried to be tantalizing. He was wearing a granite-colored Italian sports jacket. He was holding a bouquet of yellow roses in a white paper bag. “They were outta the red,” he said.

“They’re great,” she said, getting up. She pulled a vase out of the cabinet for useless stuff and dumped the roses in it with some water.

“How are you?” Bruno said to Todd. Todd sat there at the table with his back straight and his hands folded, as if to say, I’m good.

“Let’s go,” Bruno said. “We gotta move.”

“Where’re we going?” Joanie asked. She was trying to arrange the flowers.

It turned out they were going to a B.B. King concert in Hartford. Bruno knew somebody who knew somebody, pulled a few strings at the last minute. First they had to go to the dealership and pick up the tickets; the guy was dropping them off there.

“Why didn’t you go pick ’em up from the guy?” Joanie asked.

“He owes me a favor,” Bruno said.

They said good-bye to Todd. He was still sitting at the table, the roses spread out in front of him.

“Don’t wait up,” Bruno said.

“We won’t be that late,” Joanie said.

But in the car she thought about it: the concert would probably go past eleven, and they had an hour’s ride back after that.

“Everybody’ll still be there,” Bruno said. They climbed the ramp onto I-95. “You can meet the guys. There’s a treat.” She figured he meant at Goewey Buick.

After he merged into traffic, he looked over at her.

“You look very good,” he said.

She murmured a compliment back. They went by an old Coppertone ad painted on the side of a building, a little girl’s bathing suit bottom pulled down by a terrier. The terrier’s head was missing.

Bruno turned the radio on and then off. “Took a long time,” he said.

She could see what a big deal this date was for him and she was touched. “Well, you blew your opportunities,” she said.

“Ho.” He put his hand out. “Let’s back up here. Wait a second. I did not blow them. I did not blow them. What opportunities?”

She shrugged. “Oprah says women have ways of letting you know.” Why was she saying this? What was the point of teasing him?

“Where’d you hear that?” he asked.

“Oprah,” she said.

“Oprah,” he said grimly.

“Oprah knows everything.”

“Oprah knows dick. Pardon my French.”

They got off 95 at the Kings Highway exit. At the bottom of the ramp a woman was peering at the stop sign from a few feet away through a camera with a huge lens.

“This woman’s takin’ pictures of the stop sign,” Bruno said as they pulled up alongside. He looked at Joanie, and she shrugged. He rolled his window down. “Excuse me. What’s the interest here?” he asked the woman. She ignored him.

“I’m sure I don’t know,” he said. “I’m sure I can’t say.” She looked at him briefly and went back to her camera, moving around to get different angles. “Maybe you see something I don’t,” he said. “Maybe it’s me getting jaded. This is possible.” He waited for her to say something, and then he drove off.

“You like B.B. King?” he asked her.

She said she did.

At Goewey Buick three or four guys were standing and sitting around waiting for customers. She was introduced. One of them arched his eyebrows when he was shaking her hand and said, “Va-va-va-voom.”

“Somebody leave an envelope for me here?” Bruno asked. The guys said Cifulo had it. Cifulo was out. “Maybe he left it in your office,” one of them said.

They went to look. His office was partitioned with glass off the showroom floor. While he rummaged through his metal desk Joanie looked around. Someone had pinned a Goewey Buick circular to the bulletin board next to her. She read a correction printed in a box under the headline, OOPS!: “Last week’s circular incorrectly states, ‘Free leather travel case with any test drive.’ The correct copy should read, ‘Free daily calendar with any purchase of a Skylark Executive Edition.’”

The office was a mess. There was a big Mr. Coffee on the file cabinet, with a couple of mugs and torn blue packets of Equal around it. The garbage can was spattered with something and piled with little metal-handled Chinese takeout boxes. One still had the chopsticks sticking out of it. She straightened a framed poster with the title MY FIRST MILLION. It was a photograph of stacks of money. “That’s the previous guy’s,” Bruno said when he saw her looking at it. “I never took it down.”

One of the guys she’d been introduced to poked his head in while Bruno searched. “Listen,” he said. “The Korean was back. He said you promised him ten percent.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Bruno said. He lifted the blotter on his desk and shook it. “Some people say one thing, some people say something else. The hell did he do with those tickets?”

“This guy said he was gonna call the Better Business Bureau. What happens, he comes in with them?”

Bruno pulled one drawer out of his desk and dumped it on the floor. Joanie jumped. “If he does, we deal with that then,” he said.

They watched him turn his office upside down.

The guy folded a piece of gum into his mouth. “Cifulo moved two Rivieras yesterday,” he said. “He tell you? He said to tell you he was gonna match your totals. He said he was gonna be making that trip with you.”

“Tell him not to buy any new luggage,” Bruno said, distracted.

“Is that it?” the guy asked. He pointed at an envelope on the floor.

Bruno picked it up, checked inside, looked at the guy, and walked out. Joanie followed.

“Hey,” the guy called after him. “You gonna leave your office like this?” Bruno waved, like he’d wished him a good trip.

In the car he said, “Morons.”

They were quiet on the way back to the highway. Bruno turned the radio on.

She formulated questions about Joey Distefano.

“So how you been?” Bruno asked.

She searched his expression, but he was watching the road. “I been all right. How good’re you gonna be?”

“I don’t know. It’d drive me crazy.”

She pulled her eyes to her lap. “What would?”

He looked at her. “What do you think? Your husband takin’ off.”

A police car went by the opposite way, its lights going.

“Lemme ask you something,” Bruno said. “He leave you fixed at all for money? It’s none of my business, I know.”

She shook her head.

He made an exasperated noise. “Joanie, you gotta get after him. The man owes you a little bit here.”

She nodded.

A Yardbirds song came on. Joanie turned it off.

“You hear from him at all? You think he’s comin’ back?”

She put her face in her hands. She was suddenly near tears.

“Hey. Whoa. Ho. Sorry. I’m sorry,” he said.

She was crying. “This whole thing is so bad,” she said.

He flipped his turn signal and threw a look over his shoulder and cut across the right lane to the exit. They bumped down the ramp and pulled over once they reached the stop sign. Someone behind them leaned on the horn and swerved by.

“Hey,” he said, and he put his hand to her hair. “I’m here.”

She leaned over to him, her head on his shoulder, and cried. “It’s all right,” he said. He cleared his throat. “It’s okay.”

She sniffed noisily and got hold of herself. She sat up and straightened her back and took a deep breath. “Sorry,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey,” he said, meaning, It was nothing.

She was looking at him. It was as if with that “Hey,” he had touched a finger to her feelings for him. He kissed her. She put a hand to his throat. She moved her lips, trying to communicate tenderness. He pulled back from the kiss, and his fingers were on her cheek.

She smiled, and thanked him for being sweet. She wiped her face.

“I’m not sweet,” he said.

“We should get going.” She ran her spread hands down her thighs like she needed to dry them. “We gonna eat?” She sniffled again and wished for a Kleenex.

He pulled across the street and up the entrance ramp. He said he figured they’d get into Hartford first, get situated. Eat ginzo on Franklin Avenue, a nice place called Carbone’s.

When she didn’t say anything, he added that the concert wasn’t until nine.

“I didn’t think that was gonna happen,” he said a little while later.

She thought maybe she could press this as an advantage. You are one cold bitch, she thought. She put a hand to her hair, as if to remind him where his hand had been. “So tell me about Joey Distefano,” she said.

He made squeaking sounds with his cheek. “He talk to you yet?” he asked.

“Wednesday night,” she said. “You were there when we worked it out.”

“Ah,” Bruno said.

“Bruno,” she said. “What is the mystery here? I mean, what is the big deal? You guys all work for the CIA? What?”

“We’re fuckin’ Russian agents,” he said tiredly. “We want Milford’s secrets.”

“He shows up everywhere. I mean, like today I went to the mall, he was at the mall.”

“Stop the presses. Joey Distefano’s at the mall. What was he doing at the mall?”

She looked out her window. “How should I know? Eating ice cream,” she said.

“Ho, boy,” Bruno said.

She rubbed her face and settled farther down into her seat. She turned on the radio.

She counted exits. After three she asked, “How long did he know Tommy?”

“Look. Me and him and Tommy, we worked together, okay? We had some things going on the side.”

Again they were quiet. But every time she wanted to let it go she pushed herself: what had she come for in the first place?

“You said some money was stolen,” she said. “From Tommy. How’d you know that?”

“Joanie,” he said. “This is not a fucking joke. This is not gossip. You don’t need to know this stuff. You understand what I’m sayin’?”

She smoothed each of her eyebrows with her index finger and gave up.

“You been talking to people about this?” he asked. “Hey.”

“No,” she said. “I haven’t been talking to anybody. Not a soul.”

They ate at Carbone’s. Bruno was preoccupied through all three courses, watching the waiters across the room like they’d already cheated him. She worked her way unhappily through her fettucine abbacchio, surprised at herself, because she was still thinking about their kiss and not focused enough on her disappointment at having found out almost nothing.

Bruno left a ten-percent tip. “The guy slopped coffee around like he had Parkinson’s,” he said when she noticed.

The concert turned out to be outside, at Bushnell Park. Bruno didn’t seem to have known that and was unhappy about standing around on a lawn. He kept sneaking looks up at the sky and shaking his head. There were about a thousand people crammed into a space that she figured should hold fifty. Half of them annoyed Bruno. A guy next to her had a baby that kept taking off his Orioles cap and hitting Bruno with it, and a little red puppy on a leash that kept winding and unwinding around their legs. In the crush, they were pressed together. Bruno made a jerky motion and the dog yelped.

Another guy pushed into them holding a little black dog up high, like the dog needed to see. The guy was calling for B.B. It had to be forty-five minutes before the warm-up act.

“Hey. Dan Blocker,” Bruno finally said. “He can’t hear you, pal.” When the guy looked at him he added, “Somebody’s lookin’ for you over that side of the park,” and pointed.

They stayed like that, shoved back and forth by the crowd. She saw Bruno gauging the distance to the street, to see if it was worth the fight to just leave.

Finally there was cheering, and a kid with long blond hair got up onstage and announced the opening act: Alberto.

“What the Christ is Alberto?” Bruno muttered.

Alberto climbed up onstage in black tights and white pancake makeup. He had a red dot rouged on each cheek and black eyebrows painted in a mournful expression. He was carrying an easel and an armful of placards.

“You gotta be kidding me,” Bruno said.

Alberto stood up the easel and set a placard on it. The placard read: THE PICNIC. Alberto sat cross-legged onstage and began pulling things from an imaginary box. A flute began to play.

“A mime,” Bruno said. “They’re opening for B.B. King with a mime.”

An old black man twenty feet away stood open-mouthed. “What’re you doin’, fool?” he called.

Joey Distefano was right behind the old man. He turned when he saw her and disappeared.

“There ain’t nothin’ in your hands, fool,” the old man called out.

“Whatchu doin’?” a black woman behind him called. “You at a picnic? You gonna go hungry.”

“Bruno,” Joanie said. She had his arm. “He’s here. Distefano.”

He looked where she was pointing and pushed a guy aside to see more clearly.

She couldn’t tell if he was faking shock or not. “Bruno, what’s goin’ on?” she demanded.

“Where was he? You sure it was him?” He was right in her face.

“This sucks,” someone next to her called. “You suck.”

“Pal,” Bruno said to him. “I’m trying to talk here.”

The guy gestured to the mime onstage. “What, is he drownin’ you out?”

“It was him,” Joanie said. “I know it.”

He turned without saying anything and pulled her through the crowd.

She excused herself and said she was sorry whenever she could to the people who got shoved as he yanked her along. They were both looking, but with the size of the crowd and the fading light, it was hopeless.

He stopped so that she bumped into him, halfway to the street.

“No big deal,” he announced. “You wanta stay? See the concert?”

She gaped at him.

“Or let’s go,” he said. “We’ll grab a movie.”

He looked back and forth casually, giving the search one last shot. “What?” he said. He mimicked her open mouth.

She put her hands on her hips, trying to look like she was tired of this nonsense. She had no idea what to make of his actions.

“Has nothing to do with him,” Bruno said. “You like it out there?”

The crowd roared, and Joanie looked back toward the stage. Alberto’s easel had collapsed. He was trying to pick it up, and placards were fanning out from under his arm like an oversized hand of cards. People were shouting out guesses, as if he were still doing mime.

She turned and headed out of the crowd. She had no notion of whether it was toward the car—it probably wasn’t—but she couldn’t put up with this anymore and was tired of letting Bruno lead.

He caught up with her at the edge of the grass, near a Polish-sausage vendor. He asked if she knew where she was going, and she said she wanted out of Hartford, now. She led him around the park, back to the car. “Nice-lookin’ Polish sausage,” he said from behind her. Otherwise they didn’t talk.

In Meriden she said, “You’re not gonna explain anything about what’s going on.”

That stretch of 91 was dark, and the dashboard lights weren’t much help in reading his expression. Every now and then, oncoming headlights swept over him. “I didn’t expect to see him up there,” he said. “He didn’t tell me he was going up there.”

“So? What, does he tell you everywhere he goes?”

“Apparently not,” Bruno said.

“Is he following me?” Joanie asked.

“Following you?” Bruno said. The car lifted and pancaked slightly over a rise, the sensation unpleasant. That sense she’d been suppressing that Bruno already knew what she’d done was coming back.

“You work together,” she repeated glumly, as if she couldn’t believe he’d saddle her with such a lame story. When he didn’t answer, she got frustrated. “When does he work as a cop? Every time I see him he’s wanderin’ around doin’ nothing.”

“He’s workin’ Wednesday night,” Bruno said.

It shut her up. She gave the lights outside her window great attention and tried to systematically run down the ways in which he or they could have possibly guessed what happened. They’d seen her there. They’d seen her near there. He’d seen the damage to the car.

She was trying to calm herself. She pinched her lower lip with her thumb and forefinger.

“We’ll go down to New Haven,” he said. “They got some nice bars there. Sedate.”

She released her lower lip and gave him a single, flat wave, as if to say, Whatever.

But as they approached the New Haven exit she roused herself.

“I’m not sure this baseball game with Todd is a good idea,” she said.

“And why is that?” Bruno asked. He sounded bored.

“Because I don’t know what you’re involved in,” she said. “I don’t want Todd mixed up in anything.”

He didn’t answer.

“Don’t get off here,” she said when he slowed for the exit. “I don’t wanna go to a bar. Just take me home.”

The car accelerated so smoothly she wasn’t sure it had slowed down. “You don’t want Todd getting mixed up in anything,” he repeated softly. The way he said it chilled her.

She watched the tall highway lights roll by as yellow cones and ovals on the hood.

“Am I gonna have to tell him he can’t go?” she asked.

Bruno seemed to be just driving. He opened his mouth wide, stuck his tongue out, and closed it again. She shifted her weight and pulled at the armhole seams of her top.

An image came to her of Gary hiking some trail out west, with the sun on his hair. It made her miserable and angry.

No warning, she thought. How clueless do you have to be to have no warning your husband’s about to walk out on you?

I shoulda had more fun, she thought sadly, as if looking back on a life that was over.

The rest of the way home, Bruno sat there like he was alone in the car and she stared morosely out her window.

A block from her house, he pulled into the back of a Laundromat and parked. He rolled down his window a little and the breeze came in and lifted his hair. It was pretty where they were. The streetlight spread the shadows of leaves across the car.

He shifted so his back was against the door and he was facing her. She couldn’t see him very well. Her stomach had that unsettled caffeine-y feeling. She waited for him to say something. She touched the tip of her tongue to her upper lip.

Something prowled across the parking lot, in the distance. She guessed raccoon.

“Lean forward,” he said. “I wanna show you something.”

When she did he touched his finger to her bottom lip. She opened her mouth slightly.

He took her hair between his fingers and turned them gently and pulled her farther forward. Their noses grazed. She could smell a faint scent she hadn’t noticed before, his shaving cream, maybe. He turned his head slowly to hers and kissed her. She was conscious of the awkwardness of her pose and of breathing very slightly. Late in the kiss, he outlined her upper and lower lips with his tongue.

She kissed the side of his mouth, and then his cheek, and eased back.

They sat there, a foot or so apart. Because of the brightness of some areas under the streetlight, her eyes weren’t getting very used to the dark. “Come over my house,” he said.

She kissed him again, a little kiss.

“You don’t wanta come over my house,” he said quietly.

She looked down and shrugged, and then looked back at him, unsure if he could even see her.

He put his hands on both sides of her head, pulling her hair outward. She could feel it fall to her ears. “Tell me if you want to. Open up to me only if you want to. You don’t want to open up, don’t open up,” he said.

“Like you open up to me,” she said.

“Hey. This is business. This is what business is. People taking care of themselves. The freedom of the individual to fuckin’ make somethin’ of himself. Am I out of line on this?”

She eased sideways against the seat, a more comfortable position.

He ran his hands over his face. “Whaddyou think time it is?” he asked.

She didn’t know. A car turned around in the parking lot and its headlights blinded them.

He sighed. “Knowing what the fuck you’re talking about. It’s rare, Joanie. So rare.”

She put her hand to her mouth. She wanted to kiss him again. Do you have any idea what you’re doing? she thought. She shifted all the way around and sat back against her door.

“How’re you doin’ for money, really?” he said out of the darkness.

She pulled a leg up onto the seat between them and folded it under her. “We’re all right,” she said warily.

“I think you got a little more ready cash than you think you do,” he said.

She felt saliva in her mouth, and she swallowed so that he could probably hear it. Something ticked in the dashboard. “Where?” she said. “You know something I don’t?” She tried to sound jaunty.

Some kids rode by on bikes, circling and screeching. They swerved near the car, and one of them lost his balance and thumped it with his hand. The sound seemed to come from her chest. They cut through the parking lot to the street. Each of them banged the dumpster on the other side of the lot on the way past.

“Where?” Bruno said. “I’m talkin’ about Mr. Gary. Who’s probably got a steady job, a little something stashed away, a coupla bucks nobody’s touched?”

She didn’t know what to say, or if that was what he was really getting at.

He held up one finger. “We never know until we ask. What’s the worst that can happen when we ask? What’s the worst that can happen?”

He seemed to be waiting for an answer. She cleared her throat and swallowed again.

“You know what the hard part is?” he asked. He waited. “Am I coming through out there?”

“What’s the hard part?” she said. She sounded scared.

“The hard part is doing it. Doing anything.”

She sniffed. “Obviously.”

“Obviously my ass. My ass, obviously.”

“I don’t even know what we’re talking about here,” she said.

His head leaned forward in the darkness. “You say, I am going to do this. That’s what we’re talking about. Otherwise you wander around—you know what you do? You wander around in thrall to somebody. That’s what you do. You’re in somebody else’s fucking thrall.”

Her face and stomach felt as if she were going down in an elevator. Her neck prickled. “What if he’s not willing to do what I want?” she asked.

“Then you know what you do? You do something to hurt him,” Bruno said softly. “Where he lives.”