The field, which had been filling the room with its figures almost to the extent that the room had receded into a sketch of itself—as if the field, which was imagery, and the house, which was material, had swapped ontological roles—now allowed itself to be outshone by the living room’s interior, which meant that the interior, its rug and cushions, stack of books, and tangle of miniature lights, but also its narrow upright shelving, its three framed pieces of art and one unframed poster tacked up with pins, its faded floral curtains and its gloss-painted door, became itself again, but did so anxiously, unreassuringly, less (E thought) like the return to sepia Kansas in The Wizard of Oz than like the perilous sunlit past in Bonjour Tristesse. The field almost immediately reclaimed its prominence, as if to remind E and S—if they needed reminding—that reality was playing out in the field now. That the field is the room.

EIGHTH FIGURE

E: Well, this one’s easy. If that was a house, this is a broken home: with a hole in the roof like that, what kind of protection can it provide?

S: Well, I never experienced my home as protection.

S downed the glass of rum and poured another; E kept her distance with everything but her eyes. When she spoke, she invited S to elaborate, and after a moment of hesitation, S did.

NINTH FIGURE

E: This one reminds me of what just happened. It’s a tongue, and it’s also an eye. The tongue is yours, telling me about your childhood just now. The eye is mine, a focusing machine, and a factory of tears.

S: I don’t mind that you cried. You’re a crier. It’s one of the differences between us, I’m starting to understand.

E: I’ve never been embarrassed about being a crier. Though there have been times when it’s been used against me.

TENTH FIGURE

E: Do you want some more food? This one made me think about hunger. What I mean is that it made me think about how much I want an avocado. And given where we are and the state of the supermarket shelves, we’re a long way from the nearest avocado.

S [letting out a laugh that set Splice to barking again]: It’s funny the kinds of things we don’t know about each other. I can’t eat avocados. I’m allergic. But let’s get a snack. Splice wants to go out. Let’s go look at the stars—the field and its figures will be here when we get back.

ELEVENTH, TWELFTH, AND THIRTEENTH FIGURES