a big old house like this,” I suggest. I wish I hadn't said “maybe,” but I feel uncertain of the future. Tory and I have talked about marriage, though everything seems to be changing. I don't really know what I want. Everything has become so gloomy and difficult lately.
“I don't want a big old house,” Tory says. “A big old house needs kids in it.”
“Don't be so pessimistic. The doctor said that was a worst-case scenario.”
“Doctors have been treating women like children for centuries.”
There's a knock on the door, and Bunny comes in.
She throws herself down on the bed beside Tory. “And now the graduate, exhausted from rehearsal in the hot sun, takes a load off her feet,” Bunny says. “Also, by avoiding her own room, she hopes to escape interrogation at the hands of the mother of the graduate.”
“What interrogation?” Tory says.
“She wants to know whether Bill's going to be at the ceremony.”
“Is he?”
“Of course.”
“You could introduce him as the father of the graduate,” Tory says. “He's even older than Dad. Is he going to bring his wife with him?”
“He's not older than Dad. They're the same age.”
“That makes it perfect.”
“He's in terrific shape. He works out and plays tennis every day.”
“You're going to ruin the graduation for Mom if she sees him there.”
“She won't see him.”
“Is Dad coming?”
“I didn't invite the bastard.”
The sisters fall silent, both bouncing lightly on the bed, as if responding to some signal I can't hear. The resemblance of the two sisters lying on the bed is eerie and exciting. They seem to lend each other beauty, their juxtaposition creating a context for appreciation. In silence, they exercise a lifetime of intimacy. I hear the clop-clop of a horse outside on the road. Dust swarms in the wedge of sunshine coming in through the curtains; a shaft of yellow light catches the edge of Bunny's hair and appears to ignite it. Both women have their eyes closed. I watch them. They seem to be asleep.
When I go downstairs, Ginny is sitting at the kitchen table, reading a magazine. The TV is on, a game show. Ginny looks up and smiles. “My Gourmet arrived, so I'm happy,” she says. “I hardly ever cook anymore, but I love to read the recipes.” I take a seat at the big round table that is the hub of family activity. The house has dens, living rooms and I'm not sure what else, but everyone hangs out in the kitchen. I wonder if it was always this way.
Ginny closes the magazine and looks up at the television. Then she looks at me. “Do you think in this day and age it's possible to win an alienation of affection suit?”
“I believe it's very difficult,” I say. “But I'm afraid it's not my area.” I wish I could tell her something encouraging, save the farm, stay the execution. I imagine myself flat on my back while a hostile jury piles stones on the beam across my chest. I went into law school with a vague notion of righting wrongs. “I don't know much about divorce law,” I say. “Corporate marriages are my field. But I could look into it for you.”
“No, that's okay. I've got a lawyer. I shouldn't be bothering you for advice.” She reaches over and pats my hand. “It's good to have you here. I'm so pleased that Tory has someone like you to take care of her. You're great together.” She lights up a cigarette. “Carol—I'm just relieved that she's not in jail or the nuthouse. If Jesus is what it takes, fine. Although I must say having those two around makes me want to curse and smoke and drink just out of spite.” She looks at her watch.
“How about a drink, Ginny? I picked up a bottle of vodka.”
“Well, I suppose, since it's the weekend. …”
“It's an occasion,” I say. “I think we're well within our rights here.” I fix the drinks. We were pleased to discover, last night, that we both like vodka on the rocks with a splash. Tory, less pleased, thinks her mother drinks too much.
“I'm so glad you're a sinner,” Ginny says. “I can't tell you what a relief it is. Carol and Jim were here for two days before you arrived, and it felt like two weeks. Cheers.”
The phone rings. Ginny jumps up and catches it on the second ring. She says hello three times and hangs up. “That could've been one of three people,” she says after she's back at