this for Danny after the small neat brick house in Stovington？ The people living
above them on the third floor weren't married； and while that didn't bother her；
their constant； rancorous fighting did。 It scared her。 The guy up there was Tom；
and after the bars had closed and they had returned home； the fights would start
in earnest — the rest of the week was just a prelim in parison。 The Friday
Night Fights； Jack called them； but it wasn't funny。 The woman — her name was
Elaine — would at last be reduced to tears and to repeating over and over again：
〃Don't； Tom。 Please don't。 Please don't。〃 And he would shout at her。 Once they
had even awakened Danny； and Danny slept like a corpse。 The next morning Jack
caught Tom going out and had spoken to him on the sidewalk at some length。 Tom
started to bluster and Jack had said something else to him； too quietly for
Wendy to hear； and Tom had only shaken his head sullenly and walked away。 That
had been a week ago and for a few days things had been better； but since the
weekend things had been working back to normal — excuse me； abnormal。 It was bad
for the boy。
Her sense of grief washed over her again but she was on the walk now and she
smothered it。 Sweeping her dress under her and sitting down on the curb beside
him； she said： 〃What's up； doc？〃
He smiled at her but it was perfunctory。 〃Hi； Mom。〃
The glider was between his sneakered feet； and she saw that one of the wings
had started to splinter。
〃Want me to see what I can do with that； honey？〃
Danny had gone back to staring up the street。 〃No。 Dad will fix it。〃
〃Your daddy may not be back until suppertime； doc。 It's a long drive up into
those mountains。〃
〃Do you think the bug will break down？〃
〃No； I don't think so。〃 But he had just given her something new to worry
about。 Thanks； Danny。 I needed that。
〃Dad said it might；〃 Danny said in a matter…of…fact； almost bored manner。 〃He
said the fuel pump was all shot to shit。〃
〃Don't say that； Danny。〃
〃Fuel pump？〃 he asked her with honest surprise。
She sighed。 〃No； ‘All shot to shit。' Don't say that。〃
〃Why？〃
〃It's vulgar。〃
〃What's vulgar； Mom？〃
〃Like when you pick your nose at the table or pee with the bathroom door open。
Or saying things like ‘All shot to shit。' Shit is a vulgar word。 Nice people
don't say it。〃
〃Dad says it。 When he was looking at the bugmotor he said； ‘Christ this fuel
pump's all shot to sbit。' Isn't Dad nice？〃
How do you get into these things； Winnifred？ Do you practice？
〃He's nice； but he's also a grown…up。 And he's very careful not to say things
like that in front of people who wouldn't understand。〃
〃You mean like Uncle Al？〃
〃Yes； that's right。〃
〃Can I say it when I'm grown…up？〃
〃I suppose you will； whether I like it or not。〃
〃How old？〃
〃How does twenty sound； doc？〃
〃That's a long time to have to wait。〃
〃I guess it is； but will you try？〃
〃Hokay。〃
He went back to staring up the street。 He flexed a little； as if to rise； but
the beetle ing was much newer； and much brighter red。 He relaxed again。 She
wondered just how hard this move to Colorado had been on Danny。 He was
closemouthed about it； but it bothered her to see him spending so much time by
himself。 In Vermont three of Jack's fellow faculty members had had children
about Danny's age — and there had been the preschool — but in this neighborhood
there was no one for him to play with。 Most of the apartments were occupied by
students attending CU； and of the few married couples here on Arapahoe Street；
only a tiny percentage had children。 She had spotted perhaps a dozen of high
school or junior high school age； three infants； and that was all。
〃Mommy； why did Daddy lose his job？〃
She was jolted out of her reverie and floundering for an answer。 She and Jack
had discussed ways they might handle just such a question from Danny； ways that
had varied from evasion to the plain truth with no varnish on it。 But Danny had
never asked。 Not until now； when she was feeling low and least prepared for such
a question。 Yet he was looking at her； maybe reading the confusion on her face
and forming his own ideas about that。 She thought that to children adult motives
and actions must seem as bulking and ominous as dangerous animals seen in the
shadows of a dark forest。 They were jerked about like puppets； having only the
vaguest notions why。 The thought brought her dangerously close to tears again；
and while she fought them off she leaned over； picked up the disabled glider；
and turned it over in her hands。
〃Your daddy was coaching the debate team； Danny。 Do you remember that？〃
〃Sure；〃 he said。 〃Arguments for fun； right？〃
〃Right。〃 She turned the glider over and over； looking at the trade name
（SPEEDOGLIDE） and the blue star decals on the wings； and found herself telling
the exact truth to her son。
〃There was a boy named George Hatfield that Daddy had to cut from the team。
That means he wasn't as good as some of the others。 George said your daddy cut
him because he didn't like him and not because he wasn't good enough。 Then
George did a bad thing。 I think you know about that。〃
〃Was he the one who put the holes in our bug's tires？〃
〃Yes； he was。 It was after school and your daddy caught him doing it。〃 Now she
hesitated again； but there was no question of evasion now； it was reduced to
tell the truth or tell a lie。
〃Your daddy 。。。 sometimes he does things he's sorry for later。 Sometimes he
doesn't think the way he should。 That doesn't happen very often； but sometimes
it does。〃
〃Did he hurt George Hatfield like the time I spilled all his papers？〃
Sometimes —
（Danny with his arm in a cast）
— he does things he's sorry for later。
Wendy blinked her eyes savagely hard； driving her tears all the way back。
〃Something like that； honey。 Your daddy hit George to make him stop cutting
the tires and George hit his head。 Then the men who are in charge of the school
said that George couldn't go there anymore and your daddy couldn't teach there
anymore。〃 She stopped； out of words； and waited in dread for the deluge of
questions。
〃Oh；〃 Danny said； and went back to looking up the street。 Apparently the
subject was closed。 If only it could be closed that easily for her —
She stood up。 〃I'm going upstairs for a cup of tea； doc。 Want a couple of
cookies and a glass of milk？〃
〃I think I'll watch for Dad。〃
〃I don't think he'll be home much before five。〃
〃Maybe he'll be early。〃
〃Maybe；〃 she agreed。 〃Maybe he will。〃
She was halfway up the walk when he called； 〃Mommy？〃
〃What； Danny？〃
〃Do you want to go and live in that hotel for the winter？〃
Now； which of five thousand answers should she give to that one？ The way she
had felt yesterday or last night or this morning？ They were all different； they
crossed the spectrum from rosy pink to dead black。
She said： 〃If it's what your father wants； it's what I want。〃 She paused。
〃What about you？〃
〃I guess I do；〃 he said finally。 〃Nobody much to pl