Девять рассказов

           Sheinturnbroughtherleftarmoutfromunderthesheet,asifbentonencirclingTeddy’swaistwithit,butbythetimeshehadgotitoutfromunder,Teddyhadmovedon.Hehadcomearoundtheothersideandenteredthespacebetweenthetwobeds.Hestooped,andstoodupwithhisfather’spillowunderhisleftarmandtheglassashtraythatbelongedonthenighttableinhisrighthand.Switchingtheashtrayovertohislefthand,hewentuptothenighttableand,withtheedgeofhisrighthand,swepthisfather’scigarettestubsandashesintotheashtray.Then,beforeputtingtheashtraybackwhereitbelonged,heusedtheundersideofhisforearmtowipeoffthefilmywakeofashesfromtheglasstopofthetable.Hewipedoffhisforearmonhisseersuckershorts.Thenheplacedtheashtrayontheglasstop,withaworldofcare,asifhebelievedanashtrayshouldbedead-centeredonthesurfaceofanighttableornotplacedatall.Atthatpoint,hisfather,whohadbeenwatchinghim,abruptlygaveupwatchinghim."Don’tyouwantyourpillow?"Teddyaskedhim.

           "Iwantthatcamera,youngman."

           "Youcan’tbeverycomfortableinthatposition.Itisn’tpossible,"Teddysaid."I’llleaveitrighthere."Heplacedthepillowonthefootofthebed,clearofhisfather’sfeet.Hestartedoutofthecabin.

           "Teddy,"hismothersaid,withoutturningover."TellBooperIwanttoseeherbeforeherswimminglesson."

           "Whydon’tyouleavethekidalone?"Mr.McArdleasked."Youseemtoresentherhavingafewlousyminutes’freedom.