A. Homes - Music for Torching

She nods. "Things are getting back on track."

"We should try and enjoy ourselves a little," Paul says. "How about an early movie in Mamaroneck with the boys? Or a walk, we could walk down to the water?"

"It smells," she says. "There was an article about it in the paper: bacterial growth, a terrible smell."

"Remember." he says, thinking back to the night when they first moved here, the night they went to the movies and on the way home stopped down by the water, smoked a joint, and the cop came.

"Yes," she says, knowing what he's thinking.

He stands up. He reaches for her hand. He leads her upstairs.

"The boys were in Florida with your mother," she says.

"It's good to have them home," he says.

"Where's Daniel?"

"Somewhere outside with Willy," he says. "And Sammy?"

"Sitting on the front step," she says.

Paul and Elaine are upstairs fucking. A quickie-the kind of thing they used to enjoy.

Elaine is dry.

"Have you got anything? Any kind of lube?"

"Just you," she says.

"Oh," he says.

He licks her.

She sucks him.

They fuck. Elaine is on top.

"Mom," Sammy yells upstairs. "Mom, the people are here." "What people?" Paul asks.

"The people," Sammy shouts.

They keep fucking.

"They're here," Sammy says.

"Hurry," Elaine says.

"Help me," Paul says. His hands are on her hips, he's pulling her down, pressing her against him.

"This isn't about me," Elaine says, panting.

"What do you mean?"

"Just come, so we can find out who's here."

"Dad," Sammy whines.

"Coming," Paul bellows.

He comes. Elaine pops up off him and goes to the window. "It's Joan and Ted," she says.

"Did you come?" he asks, pressing against her from behind. "I don't know."

"You don't know?"

Another car pulls up. "What's going on?" Elaine wants to know. "How could you not know if you came or not?"

More cars arrive.

"Hurry," Elaine says as they're dressing.

"Surprise!" Joan throws her arms up in the air as Elaine and Paul come out the front door.

"Surprise!" Elaine says, imitating Joan.

"It's a housewarming," Joan says. "I planned it last night. We were just sitting there with nothing to do. The whole gang's

coming, isn't that great? Catherine and Hammy are back, and they're desperate to see everyone-they haven't seen a friendly face in a week."

The trunk of the car is open, and Ted is struggling to pull something out. "Joan," he says. "Joan, can you give me a hand?"

"I wasn't sure what you did or didn't have, what might have gotten damaged in the fire, so I brought everything," Joan says.

"The house isn't really ready," Elaine says. "The deck isn't finished."

"You're home, that's what matters," Joan says.

Paul interrupts. "Is Henry coming?" He needs to know. He's been obsessing about Henry, Henry and the date, Henry and Elaine, Henry on top.

"Any minute," Joan says.

The Nielsons' car pulls up. "It's George, one of the little M's, and.. who's that? That's not Pat," Joan says.

An unidentified woman is at the wheel.

"My cousin Lois," George says, opening the passenger door. "She's visiting from Syracuse." He hands over a pitcher of martinis. "She drove. I didn't want to bruise the gin."

A man Elaine doesn't know asks, "Are we staying in front or going around back?"

"The back is full of rocks," Elaine says.

He plunges the sharp stake of a bamboo torch into the ground.

"Our friends from Pelham, I asked them to join," Joan says, nodding toward the slightly younger couple. "We had plans for tonight," she whispers. "And I just couldn't cancel; I hate it when people cancel."

"Drinks? Who would like a drink?" George holds the pitcher high. "When it's empty, it's yours to keep," George says. "A housewarming gift from Pat and me." "Actually, we owe you a gift," Elaine says. She's been thinking that they need to get the Nielsons a really big thank-you present. What would do the trick? Something she can order from a catalog; Pat would appreciate that.

George shrugs. "Whatever feels right."

"Where's Pat?" Joan asks. "We can't have a party without Pat."

"You know how women are," George says, leaving the line dangling.

Elaine wonders, Did Pat tell George? Does he know more than he's letting on?

"Henry's here," Joan says. "Now, where's Paul?"

Paul hates Henry, he hates Elaine, he hates everybody. He meets Henry down by the curb and hands him a drink.

"How was rock climbing?" Elaine asks.

Henry smiles. "It was fantastic."

When the Montgomerys arrive, they all stop talking, they stare without meaning to.

"We're so glad you're here. How are you?" Joan asks before the Montgomerys are even out of the car.

Catherine and Hammy get out; their eleven-year-old daughter climbs out after them, she stares at the ground. Catherine and Hammy smile and wave, their hands traveling back and forth through the air, as if they're washing windows. "How are all of you?" they ask.

"Would you like a drink?" Paul gestures with the pitcher.

"Fill 'er up," Hammy says, closing the car door.

"We're so sorry about canceling last night," Catherine says.

"It's been a hell of a week," Hammy says.

"We missed you all so much," Catherine says. "We couldn't wait to get home."

"Back where we belong," Hammy says.

They've said the right thing; they've said nothing at all.

"How are you really?" Elaine asks again, privately, a few minutes later.

"How could I be?" Catherine says.

"You must be so relieved to have it over with," Joan butts in.

"It isn't over, it's just begun," Catherine says, and stops herself. She shouldn't say more, more would be too much. She sips her drink. "It's a mean martini."

"It's the onions," George says.

"Isn't it surprising none of us have had cancer yet?" Joan says, and no one knows what she's talking about.

Mrs. Hansen and her husband cross the street. "Fruit in vodka," Mrs. Hansen says, handing Elaine a large, foil-covered bowl. "My old standby. I've been soaking it all night."

Mrs. Hansen's husband, the hubcap, circulates through the crowd, presenting himself to everyone as "The Invisible Mister."

Liz, Jennifer, and a friend of Jennifer's cut through the yard. "We walked," Liz says. "It's further than you'd think."

"I haven't walked in years," Joan says.

Jennifer introduces her friend, Robert, a straitlaced kid except for a set of Frankenstein-like bumps or welts across his forehead. She leans toward Paul. "See the ridges above his eyes? He has barbells under his skin. Subcutaneous decorative jewelry-implants. Isn't it great? Way more subtle than piercing. You sort of see it and you sort of don't."