“Screwing in bushes is not a new thing,” said Chance. “Remember the Garden of Eden?”
“You never screwed me in bushes.”
“I didn’t know you wanted me to.”
“It’s not the sort of thing a lady should have to ask for. Anyway, it was a very interesting article. These art students are some lucky bunch, I’ll say.”
“Do you suffer the artistic impulse?” Eileen asked.
“Not at all. It was more the social aspect of the school I found intriguing. The article made it sound like a perfectly civilized four-year orgy. But here I’ve never been with another man besides Chance.”
“I think we’re all about the same, though, no?” said Chance.
“I feel doubt about that,” Chicky admitted.
“Has it ever occurred to you that I’m the best there is?”
“That hadn’t occurred to me, no.” Chicky turned to Connie. “Understand, please, my fondness for the man. I adore him, yes?”
“Of course,” said Connie. They were nodding at each other and Bob became uneasy because it seemed that they were drawing unflattering parallels.
Chance asked Connie, “Bob ever screw you in bushes, honey?”
“He never did, no.”
“Some men, these men of ours,” Chicky said.
Eileen said, “Ethan screwed me in bushes in Acapulco.”
“Okay, wow,” said Chicky, rolling up imaginary sleeves. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”
Connie said, “I thought you’d said it was in the cane.”
“It was in the cane as well as in bushes.”
Chicky slowly raised her glass in salute. “Best of goddamned luck to the both of you, and a long life to boot.” Now she saw her glass was empty, and reached for Chance’s, which also was empty. “I guess we should switch to wine, Chancey, what do you think?”
Chance was frowning; he told Bob, “She wants me to screw her in bushes, all she’s got to do is ask. But I’m not a mind reader.”
Dinner arrived and was consumed. Everyone praised the meal other than Eileen, who had made a long and thorough investigation of her plate before eating only half of what she’d been served. Chance and Chicky volunteered to clear the table, stacking and shuttling the dishes from the dining room and into the kitchen. Bob heard the soft squeak of the screen door opening and closing. Connie, meanwhile, sat watching Eileen. “I hope you were satisfied with your supper?” she asked. Eileen said, “It was very interesting, thank you. I’ve heard of meat loaf’s existence, but this was my first experience with it in person.” Connie took the blow, rallied, and announced that the dessert course would come next. She made for the kitchen to plate it and Ethan jumped up to help, leaving Bob alone with Eileen, who held her wineglass to her cheek, looking vaguely away. As though replying to something Bob had said, she told him, “It is a shame, that he’s not wealthy into the bargain.”
“Oh?” said Bob.
“Yes. If he was rich he would be, absolutely, the perfect man.” She took a long drink of wine. “I keep telling my mother ‘But Mother, once he’s married, he will be rich.’ ‘Not like we are,’ she says. ‘Exactly like we are,’ I say. ‘And by the same money.’ But no, she insists it isn’t the same.”
“No, I suppose it’s not.” In looking at Eileen, Bob felt he could say anything in the world to her, that he could admit to some enormous sin and that it would have no effect whatever. “It must be nice, wealthiness,” he said.
“Oh, I like it very much. Of course it has its own problems, like anything.”
“Yes,” said Bob. “And what are the problems?”
“Well, to fight for something, if and when you win it, it becomes more yours than if you’re simply given it. This ranges from little things to much larger.”
“And so,” Bob said, “when one doesn’t have to fight, then what?”
“To not have to fight may lead to — complacency.” She spoke the word as if it represented a state of depravity.
“Have you ever succumbed to complacency?”
“I’ve not known it in the first hand,” she said. “But it would be a bald lie to claim never to’ve seen it in others.”
Connie and Ethan returned and distributed the dessert portions, cherry pie with a thick wedge of Neapolitan ice cream.
“Oh, I love cherry pie,” said Eileen. “Is it homemade?”
Connie performed a small collapse. “It was homemade by the woman in the supermarket, and God bless her crampy little hands.” Ethan laughed hard at this; Eileen made a face of not seeing what was funny.
Ethan and Connie had returned to the same state as that first day they’d met, when they’d entered the library together, happy with themselves and each other. Bob watched as Ethan reached out to touch Connie’s forearm. He was only making a punctuative gesture, but it continued for such a duration, and Bob believed that this contact pleased Connie, so that he felt a quick queasiness. No sooner had Ethan and Connie finished their desserts than they began stacking dishes and gathering the cutlery, and again they went away to the kitchen, this time to do the washing up together. Eileen watched them leaving with a glazed expression; she’d drunk too much, too quickly. Reaching up to draw a lock of hair away from her face she toppled her wineglass, afterward contemplating the liquid as it soaked into the lace tablecloth. Bob sat there thinking of what it would be like to be married to this person, and decided it would be partly but not thoroughly terrible. It would be lonely. He didn’t understand Ethan’s decision to marry her, and he didn’t understand why she was in his home. Connie’s laughter sounded from the kitchen, and Eileen and Bob were looking in the direction of the noise. Again the screen door opened and shut and Chicky came in correcting her dress and picking pieces of grass from her hair. “Well, he screwed me in bushes,” she announced as she sat down. Chance entered the dining room smoking a cigar.
“How was it?” Bob asked.
Chicky made the half-and-half gesture; Chance said, “What are you talking about? It was great.” The chatter and laughter from the kitchen continued and Bob wondered how it was possible the dishes weren’t done yet. Eileen’s face had gone pale and she told Bob, “I’m going to lie down for a little while, if you don’t mind.” She moved to the living room; Bob heard the couch groan. He went into his head for a time and when he returned he decided he was ready for his guests to leave his house. He called out to Ethan that Eileen was ill.
“What did he say?” Bob heard Connie ask.
“That Eileen is ill.”
“Eileen is not well?”
“She has suffered a spell.”
“Has she toppled and fell?”
“Shall we give her a pill?”
Their laughter was a raspy cackling and Chicky sat watching Bob with a look imparting, he thought, condolence. He forced his face into a smile, to show he was not bothered, that there was nothing to be bothered by; but Chicky’s eyes were cold and staring. Connie still was laughing and Bob was no longer smiling and Eileen started retching, then loudly throwing up wine and meat loaf on the carpet in the living room, and everyone came into the room to watch, and after she was done then the dinner party also was done.
THE ENGAGEMENT WITH EILEEN DIDN’T LAST OUT THE MONTH. BOB found out from Ethan, who called him at work and told him, “I’m at the hospital.”
“Has someone been hurt?” Bob asked.