A. Homes - Music for Torching

"It's been the longest day," Elaine says.

"Sleep," Pat says, slipping out of the room.

Elaine goes down the hall, closes the bedroom door, and puts a chair against it.

"Everything okay?" Paul asks.

"Fine." She undresses. She rummages through her shopping bags. "I have a present for you," she says, pulling out the nightgowns.

"Wow," Paul says, "matching."

They slip on the nightgowns and climb into Paul's twin bed.

"We have to get the house fixed," Elaine says. "We can't stay here forever; it's too complicated."

"Trust me," Paul says, turning out the light. "They're glad we're here."

"Tomorrow," Elaine says. "We start tomorrow."

Somewhere in the house the phone rings. They ignore it; it is not their house, it is not their problem. There is a tapping on their door. "Phone call," George says. "Your boy is on the line. I think you can just pick up Garfield in there; his tail is broken, but the rest of him works."

"Okay, thanks," Paul says.

Elaine has turned on the light and is looking around the room. There's an orange plastic Garfield the cat on the desk. She points. Paul picks it up and hands it to her.

"Hello," Elaine says, talking into the cat's belly.

"I want to go home," Sammy says.

"Are you breathing all right?" Elaine asks.

"I want to go home," Sammy drones.

"Daddy and I aren't home," Elaine says. "Remember, you're at Nate's house, and Daddy and I are with Pat and George."

"I want to come where you are," Sammy whines.

"Honey, everyone here is asleep. Be a good boy and go back to sleep."

"No," Sammy says.

Paul takes the phone. "Is Susan there? Give Susan the phone."

"Hi, Paul," she says. "Sorry to get you up-he had a bad dream. He wanted to call."

"I want to go home," Sammy demands in the background.

"I'll make him some cocoa," she says, "and then I'll put him to bed again."

"Thanks," Paul says. "That's great."

Susan hands the phone back to Sammy. "You and I are going to make ourselves some hot cocoa, and then I'm going to tell you the most amazing story," she says. "Tell your daddy good night."

"Be a good boy," Paul says. "Love you."

In the middle of the night, the phone rings again. George taps on the door.

"Go and get him," Elaine mumbles.

Paul picks up Garfield the cat. "On my way," Paul tells Susan, pulling off the nightgown, sliding back into his clothes.

The bug light is on, Sammy is waiting outside in his Superman pajamas. She is behind him, in a large white men's shirt, the bug light staining her a jaundicey yellow. She bends to say something to Sammy, and Paul's eyes automatically dip into the crevice of her shirt. She is naked. He can see the whole way down-her full breasts languid against her chest. He is hard. Sometimes it takes so little.

"He's a little disoriented," she whispers to Paul, her breath half fouled by sleep. He moves toward her, his fingers quick-slipping under her shirt, fast-finding her, splitting the lips.

"Oh," she says. "Oh."

He is wishing they could duck inside, wishing he could convince Sammy to stay. "Are you sure you want to go?" he asks his boy.

Sammy, staring at the car, nods.

Paul imagines having her in Gerald's Barcalounger, in the full reclining position, her legs draped over the arms, while upstairs her family sleeps.

"Do you have your things?" Paul asks, pulling his fingers out of Mrs. Apple.

She hands him Sammy's knapsack and a brown paper bag. "I already made his lunch," she says.

There is something slightly romantic about this: a father rescuing his son in the middle of the night, Sammy standing on the steps in his Superman pajamas, his superpowers having failed him.

"He wouldn't wait in the house," she says. "He went running out. I actually had to chase him around the yard."

"Maybe it's the medication. Maybe it made him hyper, it can do that." Paul is embarrassed that Sammy is acting so strangely.

"It happens," Susan says.

Sammy starts walking to the car. "Careful," Mrs. Apple softly calls after him. "Your laces aren't tied."

He kisses her cheek and hurries to let Sammy into the car.

Sammy is shivering. It's June but not terribly warm. His teeth are chattering.

"Hurry," Sammy says. "I want to go home."

As they're pulling out, Paul looks up and sees someone in the upstairs window. "Look," he says. "There's Nate, saying goodbye."

Sammy starts sobbing, wailing. "What?" Paul asks. "What is it?" He tries to comfort him while driving. "Did something happen?"

And then just as suddenly as he started, Sammy stops. "I'm hungry," he says.

Paul doesn't know how to respond. He's never seen someone start crying and stop so abruptly. Is Sammy awake or asleep? Is all of this happening in a dream?

"I'm hungry," Sammy says again.

"Didn't you eat dinner?" Paul asks.

Sammy doesn't answer. Paul pulls out the sandwich from the lunch Susan made, gives Sammy half, and eats the other half himself: his third dinner, a sandwich made by Mrs. Apple. He lingers over it, turning the peanut butter and jelly on his tongue, making it last.

"Tiptoe and not even a peep," he says, leading Sammy down the hall at Pat and George's. "Everyone's asleep."

Paul takes off his clothes and crawls back into the bed, where Elaine is already asleep. Sammy climbs aboard as well; the three of them in a twin bed, Sammy in his Superman suit sprawled across the top, laid out over them, as if he's fallen from a great height and landed with a thick splat. Tender Sammy.

PAUL IS PLEASED WITH HIMSELF. He is up and out. His sip-cup is full. He has remembered his briefcase. He is walking Sammy to school and then will catch the train. Pat has made Sammy a new lunch-with a big piece of yellow cake from the night before. Elaine is still sleeping. All is well.

McKendrick pops out from behind a bush, pushing his walker into the path, nearly tripping Paul and Sammy.

Sammy squeals.

"Scared you, didn't I?" McKendrick says, the wrinkles of his scowl slightly menacing. "I escaped. If I stayed in that house a minute longer, I'd have gone insane. Been out here since five A.M., waiting for something to happen."

"I looked for you yesterday," Paul says. "The light was on."

"Well, there I was."

"This is my son Sammy," Paul says.

McKendrick bends to shake Sammy's hand. He doesn't get down very far. "Pins in my ass," he says, and slowly straightens up. "What train are you catching?"

"Aiming for the seven forty-three."

"Well, get to it, man," he says, pulling his walker out of the path. "Stop by for a drink sometime," he calls after them. "I've got some things I want to show you, good stuff; I've been downloading little girls."