"Whatta you doin' up?" he challenged.

"Where were you?" she asked flatly.

"Out."

"Where?"

"Out."

"Where?"

"Hey look, I was out, that's all you gotta know."

"Out at that motel?" As she stubbed out her cigarette she knocked the ashtray to the floor. Tommy's eyes narrowed. Then he noticed the half-empty fifth of Heaven Hill bourbon.

"You're drunk."

She rose shakily. "You think I'm stupid, don'cha?"

"I'm goinna sleep." Tommy started toward the bedroom, his mellow head burning away into an early hangover.

"I'm gonna cheat on you! Ya bastad!"

"Do whatcha want."

"Does she give you a good blowjob?" she shouted after him.

There was dead silence for about thirty seconds before Tommy reappeared in the doorway. "She gobbles it down like it was from the goddamn fountain of youth."

Marie felt as if she'd been hit full force with a breaker. The red rage drained from her face. She heard the bedroom door slam. She reached for the bourbon, but her hands were shaking so badly that the bottle slipped from her fingers and fell on its side. She watched it roll slowly to the edge of the table, disappear over the edge and crash on the linoleum.

"Cheat on you! Ya bastad," she mumbled as she cradled her head on her forearms and was swallowed up by a terrifying loneliness.

27

MARIE WOKE UP at four-thirty in the morning with a burning headache. She lit a cigarette, took one drag and felt like she was going to vomit. She rose unsteadily, dropped the cigarette in the sink and started down the hallway to the bedroom. She pushed against the walls for support. When she heard Tommy snoring, she clenched her teeth, not knowing what to do. Finally, she wheeled around, staggered back down the hallway, past the kitchen into the living room, and fell face-down on the couch and passed out. She awoke momentarily at seven to the sound of clashing pots and Tommy and Stony arguing in the kitchen. The next time she opened her eyes it was ten-thirty in the morning, the living room was blasted with sunlight. She stumbled to the bathroom and sat on the toilet for half an hour, her head in her hands. Then she took two Excedrin and crawled into bed. She lay there on the rumpled sheets swathed in the odor of Tommy's body. The whole room reeked of his presence, and her rage kept her awake. She ran last night's dialogue over and over in her head.

"Cheat on you!" she heard herself say out loud to the empty room. She thought she was going crazy. She picked up the phone and dialed her mother's number. A male Spanish voice answered. In horror she slammed down the phone. Her mother had been dead almost a year. The rage subsided, replaced by terror. She started to cry, her hands over her face, giving the sobs a muffled echo. She fell into a fretful sleep. Every time she closed her eyes she had a nightmare, although when she awoke she couldn't remember what it was about. Soon she was in a panic, drenched in sweat, battling to stay awake, but even staying awake felt like part of a nightmare. She couldn't tell if she was awake or sleeping. Then the paralysis set in again, her brain was screaming, her body immobile, her lungs collapsed. She struggled to open her eyes, wiggle her toes. Suddenly she lurched from the bed and found herself standing in a fog of panic. A thick cream of nausea rose inside her, and she made a motion to crawl back into bed. Stopping herself, she backed away, violently shaking her head from side to side in an effort to wake up. In the bathroom she ran cold water over her face. Gradually, as the nightmare dissolved and the panic subsided, the rage began to swell again. Tommy came back into focus. Tommy made her go through this hell. Tommy—arrogant cheating bastard. Tommy. Her rage felt like a heavy rain.