Boulder

           Shelookedoutthekitchenwindowandsawhimjustsittingthereonthecurb,notplayingwithhistrucksorthewagonoreventhebalsagliderthathadpleasedhimsomuchallthelastweeksinceJackhadbroughtithome.Hewasjustsittingthere,watchingfortheirshopwornVW,hiselbowsplantedonhisthighsandhischinproppedinhishands,afive-yearoldkidwaitingforhisdaddy.

           Wendysuddenlyfeltbad,almostcryingbad.

           Shehungthedishtoweloverthebarbythesinkandwentdownstairs,buttoningthetoptwobuttonsofherhousedress.Jackandhispride!Heyno,Al,Idon’tneedanadvance.I’mokayforawhile.Thehallwaywallsweregougedandmarkedwithcrayons,greasepencil,spraypaint.Thestairsweresteepandsplintery.Thewholebuildingsmelledofsourage,andwhatsortofplacewasthisforDannyafterthesmallneatbrickhouseinStovington?Thepeoplelivingabovethemonthethirdfloorweren’tmarried,andwhilethatdidn’tbotherher,theirconstant,rancorousfightingdid.Itscaredher.TheguyuptherewasTom,andafterthebarshadclosedandtheyhadreturnedhome,thefightswouldstartinearnest-therestoftheweekwasjustaprelimincomparison.TheFridayNightFights,Jackcalledthem,butitwasn’tfunny.Thewoman-hernamewasElaine-wouldatlastbereducedtotearsandtorepeatingoverandoveragain:"Don’t,Tom.Pleasedon’t.Pleasedon’t."Andhewouldshoutather.OncetheyhadevenawakenedDanny,andDannysleptlikeacorpse.