“He’s gone with Billy Fosnacht to Brewer to look at mini-bikes.”

“I don’t want him looking at mini-bikes. He’ll get killed.” The other child his daughter was killed. The world is quicksand. Find the straight path and stick to it.

“Oh Harry, it won’t do any harm to look. Billy has one he rides all the time.”

“I can’t afford it.”

“He’s promised to earn half the money himself. I’ll give him our half out of my money, if you’re so uptight.” Her money: her father gave her stocks years ago. And she earns money now. Does she need him at all? She asks, “Are you sure you closed the door? There’s a terrible draft suddenly. There’s not much privacy in this house, is there?”

“Well Jesus how much privacy do you think I owe you?”

“Well you don’t have to stand there staring, you’ve seen me take a bath before.”

“Well I haven’t seen you with your clothes off since I don’t know when. You’re O.K.”

“I’m just a cunt, Harry. There are billions of us now.”

A few years ago she would never have said “cunt.” It excites him, touches him like a breath on his cock. The ankle she is reaching to shave starts to bleed, suddenly, brightly, shockingly. “God,” he tells her, “you are clumsy.”

“Your standing there staring makes me nervous.”

“Why’re you taking a bath right now anyway?”

“We’re going out to supper, remember? If we’re going to make the movie at eight o’clock we ought to leave here at six. You should wash off your ink. Want to use my water?”

“It’s all full of blood and little hairs.”

“Harry, really. You’ve gotten so uptight in your old age.”

Again, “uptight.” Not her voice, another voice, another voice in hers.

Janice goes on, “The tank hasn’t had time to heat enough for a fresh tub.”

“O.K. I’ll use yours.”

His wife gets out, water spilling on the bathmat, her feet and buttocks steamed rosy. Her breasts sympathetically lift as she lifts her hair from the nape of her neck. “Want to dry my back?”

He can’t remember the last time she asked him to do this. As he rubs, her smallness mixes with the absolute bigness naked women have. The curve that sways out from her waist to be swelled by the fat of her flank. Rabbit squats to dry her bottom, goosebumpy red. The backs of her thighs, the stray black hairs, the moss moist between. “O.K.,” she says, and steps off. He stands to pat dry the down beneath the sweep of her upheld hair: Nature is full of nests. She asks, “Where do you want to eat?”

“Oh, anywhere. The kid likes the Burger Bliss over on West Weiser.”

“I was wondering, there’s a new Greek restaurant just across the bridge I’d love to try. Charlie Stavros was talking about it the other day.”

“Yeah. Speaking of the other day—”

“He says they have marvellous grape leaf things and shish kebab Nelson would like. If we don’t make him do something new he’ll be eating at Burger Bliss the rest of his life.”