A. Homes - Music for Torching

"I hope we're not late," Elaine says.

"No, you're it, though. The Montgomerys couldn't make it. Something happened," Joan whispers.

"How are you folks?" Ted asks, coming up behind Joan, giving her a squeeze. "What can I get you to wet your whistle?"

"White wine," Elaine says.

"Scotch," Paul says.

"Water?"

"Rocks," Paul says.

The weather is starting up again. Joan opens the front door and takes a peek. "I know it's crazy," she repeats to no one in particular. "But I thought it would be fun." She closes the door.

"Strong front pushing through," Ted says.

"Clear flying tomorrow," Joan says.

"Glasses, glasses," Ted says.

"In the cupboard," Joan says.

Joan leans in and whispers to Elaine, "The Montgomery boy tried to kill himself. Or something. Catherine and Hammy had to take a ride up and meet with the people at the school." Joan pauses and looks out the window. "God, I hope they're not caught in the storm."

Ted is down on his knees in the foyer in front of the cabinet where they keep extra wineglasses, dishes, crockery. He is holding three wineglasses in each hand, and he can't get up. "Joan," he bleats softly. "Joan, Joan."

Ted is a former football player. He works for one of the sports networks in the business office. He used to get everyone great seats to games at the Garden; now he gets them nothing, and Paul can't tell if he's been moved up or moved over.

Joan goes behind Ted, slips her hands under his arms, counts, "One, two, three, push," and lifts him enough so that he can get his footing. She turns to Elaine and shrugs. "He just folds up sometimes, and you have to unfold him," she says.

"My damn trick knee," Ted says, embarrassed.

Paul nods. He thinks he sees the date in the distance, walking from the dining room into the living room. He thinks he must be hallucinating.

"Are Pat and George here?" Elaine asks.

"Of course," Joan says.

Elaine is nervous about seeing Pat out of context, Pat with George, Pat with other couples, Pat with clothes. Will Pat speak to her? Will it be strained? She is nervous and excited-the way you get when you have a crush.

Ted hands them their drinks. They gulp. Paul leans back against the frame of the kitchen door, and Elaine goes in search of Pat.

"Hors d'oeuvres," Joan says, coming out with a trayful. "Mini- blinis." Paul pops one and then another into his mouth, swallowing them whole.

"Good, aren't they?" she asks. "Beluga."

"Ummm-humm." He blots his lips with a cocktail napkin. Again, he thinks he sees her, moving from room to room, back and forth in front of him, a hypnotic tease.

"Surprise, surprise," Henry says, sideswiping him.

"I thought you were away."

"Just flew in-and boy my arms are tired," Henry says, teasing. "I hopped the last plane." He takes Paul's glass. "You look like you could use a drink."

The date slides in next to Henry. "You remember my friend, don't you?" Henry says, winking. His wink is so strange that it looks like an overextended blink, it looks as if Henry's got something in his eye and is flapping his lid furiously trying to clear it.

She is stalking him, setting out to ruin him. She has no judgment, no limits. She is wearing a skirt that is more like an elbow patch, a Band-Aid. Bile rises in his throat. He makes a run for the powder room. The two mini-blinis he swallowed fly up and out as if jet-propelled. They land in the toilet intact, staring up, two eyes in a sea of yellow foam. He rinses his mouth, washes his face, and rejoins the party.

"We waited for you two," George says. "Finally I said to Pat, 'We've got to go on without them. They're smart, they'll catch up.'"

"Sorry," Paul says, hating the paternalistic tone, the rap-on- the-knuckles reprimand. "The kids, the storm, the house-we ran late. We called you," he says.

George cuffs him on the shoulder. "Forget it," he says, handing Paul his empty glass, disappearing into the bathroom and locking the door behind him.

Paul feels drugged, depraved. His wound burns. The date is dangerous; she could kill him. He looks for Elaine. He needs protection. He stands next to her, listening to her talking to Ted. "I've started fixing things," Elaine says. "Yesterday I fixed the disposal, and today I'm working on the toilet. Wouldn't it be great to be able to fix everything? Wouldn't it be wonderful to be an auto mechanic? Or an electrician? Or even a plumber?" She pauses. "I need to believe I can do some good, and it's too late to go to medical school."

"Fine thing," Ted says. "It's never too late."

"Sometimes it is," Elaine says. "The moment passes. It comes and goes."

"Soup's on," Joan announces. "Your places are marked."

Paul circles the table. He finds his name between Liz's and the date's-her card simply says GUEST OF HENRY.

Elaine is across the table between Pat and George.

"Odd woman out," Pat says, settling in.

"I threw up all afternoon," Paul whispers to the date as he's putting his napkin in his lap. "And the adhesive on my bandage isn't holding well-right now my pants are rubbing against a horrible mess."

"You're turning me on," she says, almost loud enough for someone to hear.

"How's the house?" Ted asks, divvying up the fish. "That's what we want to know. Do you know what caused the fire? More importantly, are you covered?"

"We're covered," Paul says, looking at Elaine, checking to see if he's allowed to tell the stupidity bit.

"Instead of just patching things back together, we're using it as an opportunity to expand. We're adding French doors and a deck," Elaine says.

"Oh, I love French doors," Joan says, putting beans on a plate and passing it down.

"Wonderful beans," Pat says.

"I just want to tell everyone," Joan says, "I was at the office all day. This dinner was whipped up in sixty minutes or less."

"And it tastes like it," George spits into Elaine's ear.

"Beautiful flowers," Elaine says.

"It's what I do," Joan says, passing plates. "It's my therapy." Actually, Joan is a financial whiz. When she was home with their first child, she started tinkering with their investments. Last year she told Elaine that she pulled in half a million, and that was when the market was slightly down.

"What about the Fourth? Does everyone have plans for fireworks?" Liz asks.

"We're already planning Christmas vacation," Joan says.

"Do we have plans?" Paul asks Elaine.

She shakes her head.

"Not to worry," Pat says. "You'll do whatever we do."

"We are so boring. I don't even tell the travel agent where we want to go anymore," Joan says. "I tell her, 'You pick it. Pick a place I would never dream of, and book us in for two weeks.'"

Outside, thunder rolls. Wild branches scratch against the house.

Joan rings her spoon against her glass. "It's a real treat to see everyone tonight. I've been instructed to tell you how very sorry Catherine and Hammy are not to be joining us, but they're looking forward to seeing everyone Saturday night."

Ted, Liz, and Pat applaud.

When dinner is done, Ted tries to get up and help Joan clear but has trouble with his legs; he stands and falls, stands and falls, and finally sits back down.

"Stay," Joan says, patting his shoulder. "Sit and stay."

An enormous crash of thunder and lightning shakes the house. "Now, that had to have hit something," George says, racing to the window.

Again, there is thunder, and the power goes off.

Taking the electrical interruption as her signal, the date reaches into Paul's lap and grabs him. He whimpers.

"What?" someone says. "What happened?"

"Nothing," Paul stammers. "I just-the chair-my toe."

The lights come back on.

"I've got cheesecake for the brave among you, angel food cake for anyone afraid of fat, and a bowl of berries for the faint of heart. What'll it be?" Joan asks. "Menage a trois? A little bit of everything?"