A. Homes - This Book Will Save Your Life

"They took the car," Richard says when she's off the phone. "I have no way out, no means of escape."

"We're fine," Cynthia says. "We can always call a taxi or you can just rent a car." Seeing that he's upset, she adds, "It'll be nice; we'll make dinner, and we can play a game."

"Like what?"

"I saw Scrabble in the cupboard."

"We don't have to make dinner — it's here. I picked up a supply from the nutritionist this afternoon; we've got food for a week."

"Why aren't you married?" she says, intending it as a compliment. "Do we have to both eat the same thing?"

"Whatever you want."

"I want us to each eat something different, I don't want to be the same, eat the same, live the same. The salmon looks good."

"Fine, you have salmon and I'll take the turkey meatloaf," Richard says, taking out the salmon, the meatloaf, the ginger green beans, a beet salad, and some mesclun mix. "I don't like this business with them coming to get the car without talking to me; I feel like a kid who just borrowed it from Dad."

"I guess that's the way it goes when you lease."

"Well, I'm not doing that again."

"Hopefully you won't have to run anyone off the road again either."

He finds Scrabble. "Do you want to play while we eat, or eat first and then play?"

"Let's be civilized; we'll eat and then play." He pours them each a glass of wine, she lights some candles, and they sit down to dinner. The sliding glass doors to the deck are open, there is the soft crash of evening waves, and the wind carries in the delicate sounds of neighbors talking.

"How come I can't do this with my husband?" she asks.

"Did you ever?"

"I can't remember. If we did it was a long time ago. Is it strange too that you and I haven't…"

"We're not in a position to."

"That doesn't stop most people."

"I like to think we're being mature."

"Or monkish. I haven't slept with anyone new in eighteen years," she says. "Do you find me… Forget it," she says, interrupting herself. "I shouldn't have asked." Cynthia seems annoyed. "That was the one thing with Andy that was still good; we did it all the time, even if we didn't speak all day or we got into bed hating each other, we always did it."

"Really?" Richard is surprised. "Did you want to?"

She nods. "It was the only way I didn't hate him."

"I would have thought you wouldn't want him anywhere near you."

"As bad as he was, there was something different at night; he was like a little boy — it used to drive me crazy — he was so needy, clingy, but eventually I kind of liked it."

Hearing this is confusing for Richard, almost exciting: the idea of Cynthia and her husband screwing. He imagines the children asleep down the hall, cool blue nightlights glowing in the electric sockets, Cynthia with her long nightgown hiked up, getting it from Andy.

She clears the dishes off the table; Richard watches her, looking at her in a different way. He thinks about his wife's body. She didn't really have much of a body: small, thin, flat-chested. He always liked her body; when he thinks about it, he remembers in detail: nipples like snow caps, the curl of her pubic hair… He stops.

"Tell me about your children," Richard says, pouring the last of the wine.

"Why don't I tell you about the minivan, what I keep in the minivan: change of clothes, one full set per kid, shoes included, each in a plastic bag, and then just a few spare pairs of socks; some old sneakers; maxi-pads for the girl, who lives in fear of one day getting her period; a laundry bag — I got tired of fishing dirty jockstraps out from under the seat, or, worse, when they get caught in the seat controls and you have to cut them free; bottles of water, Gatorade, snack bars, cheese sticks, and if it's a long day, meals, whole meals, sandwiches, salads — the girl won't eat bread, fresh fruit — they're perpetually constipated except when they eat Doritos and then they get diarrhea. And not only do I have to have enough food for my kids, but if I'm carpooling, it's like Meals on Wheels, or some sort of a soup kitchen. I feed them, drop them off, and literally have to shovel debris out of the car. I rigged a curtain around the third row so they can change clothes back there if they have to. How many hours a day am I in the car? On a good day three, on a bad day could be six. Carpooling, I'm like an airline — if I don't get them where they're going on time with all their luggage, it's my fault."

"What are they like as people?"

She shakes her head. "I don't know. I must have given them the wrong impression about how you treat other people. I just hope they figure it out, learn to take care of themselves, and, maybe one day, they'll notice that they're living in a world with other people and not everything is about what they want."

"Are you going to invite them to the apartment in Santa Monica?"

"Not yet, I need to keep it for myself for a while." Cynthia opens the Scrabble box. "What's the story with your boy?" she asks.

Richard picks his letters. "He doesn't want to talk to me."

"He's coming out here but not talking to you?"

Richard nods. "I assume it's a good thing he's coming, he wants something, some form of contact, but there's a lot to get over. I left him; parents aren't supposed to leave their children. I don't know that I can expect anything — he's a tough nut. He gets that from his mother."

"And you."

Richard starts the game with cascade .

Cynthia builds sorrow off of it.

Richard goes with wince .

Cynthia tops with excel. "Will you visit me at the new apartment and bring Scrabble with you?"

"Yes. You know, you're really good. When did you last play a game?"

"I used to have to play Candy Land with the little one because no one else would. And you?"

"My wife and I would do the crossword together in bed — she'd say, 'What's another word for buffet?' and I'd give her 'credenza.' That was one of our better moments."

THE ELEVEN O'CLOCK NEW is dominated by another in a series of sightings of what is being described as a saber-toothed cat.

"According to experts, the cat has been extinct for eleven thousand years — but in recent months there have been sightings, with some very clear descriptions. Authorities are struggling to determine if the recent increase in sightings is of significance or a form of 'copycat' hysteria. In a similar case, police are investigating the apparent murder of a horse earlier in the week, and expect to know soon if it is linked to the alleged big cat. Channel 4 reporter Elizabeth Olsen spoke with experts at Los Angeles' Paige Museum.

"What is the reality — is there a saber-tooth among us?"

"Highly unlikely; if they're seeing anything, it's a mountain lion."

"Is there such a thing as an animal coming back from extinction?"

"Any species that's been extinct for eleven thousand years would be hard-pressed to resurface. However, there is the possibility that someone — say, an animal trafficker in South America, where a few cats have been sighted — smuggled one into the country. We've seen a lot of that in recent years: exotic animals brought in for domestic purposes and then released when the owner can't handle the animal. We've had snakes, lions and tigers, monkeys, the occasional gorilla."

"There must not be any news," Cynthia says.

Richard shrugs — the idea of the cat, rising again after being extinct for eleven thousand years, appeals to him. Even if it's not possible, it should be.

At eleven-thirty-five, Leno kicks off with a joke about Richard: "Did you hear about the guy who ran that car off the road the other day — you know, the one that was blinking SOS with the girl in the trunk? Well, his was repossessed — apparently the charge of reckless driving violated the lease. Save a life, lose your car — makes sense?"