“We’re going to get married.” She didn’t smile as she said it.

“How come?”

She frowned slightly. “Sam’s parents wrote asking us to. They want us to come to New York and be married in their house.”

“I didn’t know they’d heard about the kid.”

“Sam wrote to them a while ago. They’d stopped sending money since he wasn’t going to school. I wrote to my mother, too.”

“So are they sending money now?”

“No. Just two plane tickets to New York.”

“You don’t look very happy. Do you dislike being pressured into it?”

“I just think getting married is a cheap thing to do.”

“Sally! Come in and get stoned! I’m getting married!” Sam called cheerfully from the living room. The music stopped suddenly. I looked at Carlotta. She stared down at her belly.

The room was full of people in denim pants, nodding their heads. Rennel sat in a corner, puffing strenuously on a joint, trying to catch up. Sam got up from a large, black silk pillow and took my hand.

“Did Lotta tell you?”

“Yes. Congratulations.” I hugged him and kissed his cheek.

“Isn’t it a great idea?”

“Sure.”

“Think of all the money you’ll get,” a man with curly hair contributed.

A round-faced girl in a mink pea jacket and torn Levi’s nodded and winked. “I’ll come to your wedding. We’ll all come. We’ll charter a plane.”

Sam nodded. “It’s true, we’ll probably get a lot of money. When my sister got married she got ten thousand dollars in cash and a lot of pawnable goods.”

Carlotta entered and crouched next to the cold stove. She had tied the leather thong around her head and slung a shawl over her head and shoulders. Our Lady of the White Wickiup.

“You know, Socrates was a very wise old man. He once said, ‘By all means, marry. If you get a good wife, you’ll be happy. If you get a bad one, you’ll become a philosopher.’”

The rustling cushions and the smell of sweet smoke. Carlotta lunged up, her belly swaying. She went into the kitchen and I heard the outside door slam. I got up and went after her.

She lay flat on her back in the tall grass at the edge of the trees, her hands on her belly. Her eyes were closed, her face passive.

“Are you all right?” I sat down near her head and chewed blades of grass. When she spoke, her voice was nasty and sharp.