“Want me to cook you some breakfast?” she says when they’re done.

“Sure.”

Jim rolls over and begins to wonder what Virginia is doing there. Officially they broke up their alliance at the famous softball game, but since then they have gotten together pretty frequently, for no real reason that Jim can see. Except for some easy sex, and perhaps a stimulating fight or two.… He gets up, feeling uneasy, and goes to the bathroom.

From the shower he can just hear her voice, raised to carry over the sound of the freeway. “You really should try to keep your kitchen cleaner. What a mess!” After a bit: “So where were you last night?”

“San Diego.”

“I know. But I don’t know why you didn’t ask me along.”

“Um,” Jim says, drying off. “Couldn’t find you at Sandy’s, you know—”

“Bullshit, I was there the whole time!” She appears in the bathroom doorway, potholder on one hand clenched like a boxing glove. Jim pulls up his shorts more quickly than usual.

“The truth is,” she says sadly, “you’d rather be away from me than with me.”

Sigh. “Come on, Virginia, don’t be ridiculous please? I just woke up.”

“Lazy bastard.”

Sigh. From endearment, to complaint, to recrimination: it’s a familiar pattern with Virginia. “Give me a break?”

“Why should I, after you skipped off my track last night?”

“I just went with the guys to another party. You and I didn’t have anything on last night.”

“Well whose fault was that?”

“Not mine.”

“Oh yeah? You wanted to go off with your friends that you’re so queer for. Sandy, Tashi, Abe, you’d rather do anything with them than something with me.”

“Ah come on.”

“Come on where? Admit it, you and those guys—”

“We’re friends, Virginia. Can you understand that? Friendship?”

“Friends. Your friends are all heroes to you.”

“Don’t be silly.” Actually that may be true, sure; Jim’s best friends are heroes to him, each in his different way. “Besides, what’s wrong with liking your friends?”

“It’s more than that with you, Jim, you’re weird about it. You idolize them and try to model your life on theirs, and you aren’t up to it. I mean none of you even have jobs.”

Jim has gotten used to Virginia’s logic, and now he just follows wherever it leads. “Abe has a job. We all have jobs.”

“Oh, grow up! Will you grow up? Ever?”

“I don’t know—”

“You don’t know!”

“I don’t know what you mean, I was going to say. Let me finish what I’m saying, all right?”

“Are you finished?”

“Yeah, I’m finished.”

Jim stalks past her to the kitchen, disgusted by the stupidity of their debate. Scrambled eggs have gone black in the pan. “Shit.”