That night in Bennington was the first time Molly and my mom had seen The Kindergarten Man. After the movie, Molly was the first one to say anything. As usual, Molly was the driver—she and Ray were up front, I was with Nora and Em in the backseat. “Those looked like your single-leg lunges and your squats to me, Ray—like the little guy had paid pretty close attention,” Molly said. “How come you didn’t show him the wall sits, too?” Molly asked my mother.

“He was more interested in the sex, Molly—not that the sex took a lot of time. We spent more time on the lunges and the squats than the sex, but we didn’t do any wall sits,” my mom told Molly. “Like I told you, he was just some kid—we only did it once—but everyone said he was a good little skier, and I wanted to see what kind of balance he had. He could really hold the lunges, he really stuck the squats—you can’t tell what kind of athlete someone is from wall sits,” my mother went on and on to Molly.

“No, you can’t—that’s true, Ray,” Molly said. We drove some distance with no one saying anything. “I hate this road at night, deer everywhere,” Molly told us.

“Just to be clear, Ray—you’re saying Paul Goode is the guy, right?” Nora asked her.

“Dear Nora, when I see him pretending to be a kid—when he’s hanging out with other kids, and moving like he’s a kid—he sure moves like the kid I remember,” my mom answered. “But, like I said, we spent more time doing the lunges and the squats than we spent fucking. He was a kid, it was his first time, and you know me—I’m not going to spend more time than necessary with a penis, not even a small one,” my mother told Nora.

“I think that’s clear, Ray—I think you’ve covered it,” Molly said.

“Holy shit—your dad is a movie star, kiddo,” Nora told me. Em was sitting between us in the backseat; she was holding my hand, but she gave Nora a punch in the upper arm with the fist of her other hand. “And a screenwriter—okay, okay,” Nora told Em.