LATER THAT DAY, a truck pulled up and guys unloaded six chaise longues for the new pool that wasn’t there yet. They were going to start work on the pool very soon. My brother walked out with the phone on his ear and pointed the men to the back of the house. I put my magazine down and tried to talk to them in Spanish. We pulled the plastic wrap off the pillows. The new chaises were made, I believe, of wrought iron, which had an intentionally aged look to it. These chairs weren’t from any K mart. They were beautiful. The armrests had dainty patterns engraved in the metal. Each one weighed about a thousand pounds. There were big white cushions that went on top.

Dave had them set the chairs up in a row—along one side of the pool, I guess—all facing toward Denise’s minitrampoline. The only other thing back there was a bird feeder. Now, though, six people could recline in the sun and watch Denise bounce up and down. She’s lovely, my sister-in-law. My brother would kill me, but I’ve got to say it: He’s always had amazing taste. Denise was a full-time aerobics instructor the first time I met her. That was a couple of years ago, but she’s still very athletic. She has a narrow face and high cheekbones. Her skin is dark and tan, her hair is long and thick, shiny black. And she’s got tits like in a dirty video, and a beautiful, round, heart-shaped ass—oh, man! Anyway.

I went out and sat in one of the chairs. I brought a magazine with me, but for that entire weekend I was so exhausted that every time I sat down I felt it—as if someone had sewn lead weights into my clothes. I was tired from stress. So I opened the magazine and passed out in the sun.

When I woke up the sun was farther down in the sky. Dave was beside me, with his laptop and his phone, reading through some papers. He had on his baseball hat and sunglasses. Denise was a few chairs down, in a crocheted bathing suit. I yawned and stretched. The afternoon sunlight came streaming through the trees. Pollen dust drifted in the light, and it made sunbeams. It looked magnificent—a person could contemplate the entire universe from here. I said, “God, this is so neat.”

He said, “We like it pretty quiet.”

I said, “Look at the light.”

“I looked,” he said. “Particles.” He was reading, holding his chin.

I said, “Wow—it’s like a postcard.”

“Yeah, postcard,” he said. “You snore.”

“I only snore when I’m really tired.”

“You always snored. How can anybody stand that? It sounds like you’re drinking a milk shake through your nose.”