Originally published in Fence

1. Tuesday Morning

"This one got nine," he says, dipping his spoon into Blueberry Morning.

"Ten if you count the wife," she says. She has already read the paper because she gets up first. She likes things in the traditional way. She does not cook his breakfast, but she still gets up first, to make his coffee, or to simply see that his clothes are ironed and correct and to be with him while he eats the breakfast.

"Did you feed Doctor?"

"Yes," she says, refilling his coffee, "I did."

"Because he's not acting like you fed him. He's acting bad."

"Doctor!" she says, "Kiss kiss!" Doctor comes to her and she pulls his face.

He shakes his head. "Why can't people learn to use them responsibly?"

"Honey," she says, locking his briefcase, "don't forget tokens."

He looks at her.

"You asked me to remind you," she says. "You always forget."

"I don't always." He pushes the bowl back.

"And could you also," she says, removing the bowl from the table, "please pick up my cardigan at the cleaners on your way down Ninth? You forgot last week."

"Yes," he takes the briefcase, "Yes, all right."

He is halfway down the driveway when he hears the door open behind him.

"Honey?" she calls. He turns around. "Do you want a power bar for the train?" she asks.

"No," he says.

"Okay," she says, brightly, "but yesterday you said you got hungry on the train."

"Oh, all right." He glances at his watch. "I'll take one."

She carries it down the drive, kisses him, says, "Will you be late again tonight?"

"I don't know." He looks at his watch. It is the watch she got him because he was always late for things. "How can I tell you that," he says, "now, in the morning? How can I tell you that now?"

She folds her hands. They are beautiful hands, long and white and thin. She looks down at them carefully. "I only asked because if you are going to be late I am going to the movies with Carrie and William."

"Honey," he says. "Of course you should. Go to the movies with Carry and William."

She smiles. "Okay. If you really don't mind. I'll leave you a dinner in case you're on time."

2. Love

She has brought the hot cloth and the water. He sits up to drink while she washes him. "Honey," she says, "can I have a cute-ster?"

"Yes," he nods. "You can have as many as you want."

"I want one," she tells him. She has the ceiling, the sheet, his body, the stars.

"Okay," he says. "Okay." He takes the towel from her hand. "That's good," he says. "I'm clean now."

3. The Adoption of a Cute-ster

He is reading the paper and touching his chin. "Do you think we should get another?" he asks.

"I don't know. What do you think?" She is eating a power bar. She has taken to eating the power bars. She does not lift irons or watch her weight, she just enjoys eating the power bars.

"Probably not," he says. "No, probably not. One works as well as two."

"You're right," she says. She is polishing the stove. This is affectation on her part since the stove is a self-polishing one. She is swiping the top of the stove with his old T-shirt. "Especially," she adds, "if we're going through with what we agreed on." They have agreed on adoption. It seems a feasible way, after a generous number of unsuccessful attempts. They agreed, when she pointed it out, that it would cause them both pain to have tests to determine which one of them is the cause of the failure. They both suspect it is him.

"What did you put in this coffee, vinegar?" He tilts the cup towards the light. "Have you been cleaning the machine again?"

"I made it like I always make it," she says. "I made it the way you like it. Six scoops."

He peers into the cup, frowns, puts it down on the table. "Doctor!" he says, "Kiss kiss!"

Doctor looks up from yesterday's paper and does not rise.

"Jesus Christ," he says, "the coffee tastes like shit today."

"You're just having a bummer." She gives the stove a satisfactory sweep.

"Doctor!" he says.

Doctor opens one eye.

"Jesus," he says. "I'm sick of this Marlowe case."

"Why do you take the contingencies, then?" she says, reasonably. She is stroking Doctor's beard.

"It's complicated, Honey," he says. "There's a lot of things involved."

"I wish it wasn't so complicated," she says. She pinches Doctor's nose. Doctor whimpers. She told him he would not win the Marlowe case. She tells him whether he will win all his cases and she has always been correct. He stopped asking her some time ago whether he would win. Now he tells her nothing of the details but she knows, anyway, what they are. At night, when she does not want to sleep, she sits downstairs in Doctor's chair and reads the papers in his briefcase. She understands them all. She has taught herself to understand. It came very quickly to her.

"What are you doing with Carry and William today?" He says their names in a nasal tone.

She shrugs. "How can I know? It's not lunch-time yet."

He limps to the pantry. "Why do you get oatmeal-raisin? he says. I hate oatmeal-raisin."

"It was a sale." She hands him the houndstooth. "You asked me to look for sales."

As he is walking down the driveway, her head emerges from the door.

He waits.

"Will you please get my cardigan at the cleaners?"

"Okay," he says, "all right."

"Honey?"

He waits.

"Do you think it's time we get you a new briefcase? You know yours looks a bit doggy now."

"No." He clutches the briefcase. "I don't want a new briefcase. I like my old briefcase. Okay?"

"Yes honey," she says.

4. Love (II)

He opens her twilight-gown and finds a nipple.

"What's this?" he says.

She giggles. "It's a brushed-teeth button," she says. "Brushed-teeth like to bite it."

He thinks this over. "I'll be right back," he says. When he comes back from the bathroom, she is clearly asleep, the sheet wrapped around her. "Doll-baby," he whispers. "Pistachio-bottom."

"A cute-ster," she says loudly. "That's what I want."

5. The Winning of the Marlowe Case

He hunches over the paper, his cereal, untouched. The flakes, milk-laden, disintegrate among each other. "Four," he laughs. "This one only got four."

"Well," she says, "it's really five, if you count himself."

"Oh." He stares at a spoonful of Honey-Squirrel-Dreams.

She wipes the counter with a fine flax cloth. "William says it's a malaise," she says. "William says we're existing in the crotch of juxtaposition."

He puts down the spoon. Its portion of nuts and flakes splashes onto the floor. Doctor inches, tile-bellied, toward the milk.

"By the way," he says, "you know that William just wants to rub your pussy for you."

"Oh no, I don't think so," she says, drying the counter with a silk necktie. "William's very intellectual."

He sits and considers this.

"How is the Marlowe case?" She does not look up from the counter, which she is polishing now with a velvet shirt.

"It's going well. Extremely well. In fact," he says, "I'm giving Tracy a raise. She's been extremely helpful to me during this case. I think she deserves a raise."

"That's a wonderful idea," she nods, moving the cereal bowl from underneath his spoon in order to wipe with the velvet rag. "I think you should not only give her a raise, I think you should give her a generous raise."

He looks at her to see whether she is being facetious. "That's what I meant," he says, finally, able to detect no trace of irony in her smooth cheeks and narrow white nose. "I meant a generous raise."

"Oh good," she says.

He clears his throat. "You may get the license in the mail today. I hope you'll be home to receive it."

"Oh," she glances at the clock, "I may. The mail comes so early these days."

"Good." He gets up. "I'm glad you'll be home." He limps upstairs and gathers his papers from under the office chair where he has hidden them. He files them carefully into the new briefcase which they have picked out together for him. He cannot remember what the special order in which he left the papers was. Are they different, now? He gives up. He contents himself with managing the combination lock -- whose combination he always forgets -- of the new briefcase in under five minutes.

In the kitchen he goes to the pantry and places four oatmeal-raisin power bars in his briefcase. "It may be a long day at the office," he says.

"I know." Her voice is faint, from a distant room. "I know it may be."

"Honey?" He turns back, from the middle of the driveway.

"Yes?" She is there, waiting, in the door, for him to leave.

He cannot think of what has forgotten. "I'm sorry I forgot your cardigan," he says.

"It's all right." She is beautiful in her day gown. "I only want you to have a good day at the office and do your best on the Marlowe case. If you remember my cardigan..." she shrugs. "That's just an added bonus."

He nods. He decides he will lick her in the night while she sleeps. If only he could win the Marlowe case. He decides to win the Marlowe case. He has decided this before. He is not at the end of the driveway before he unlocks the new briefcase, attentively running his hands along the beautiful suede inset, and unwraps a power bar.

6. Love (III)

"Honey?" she says. He is almost asleep. She bites his ear.

"Sleep-time," he says.

"William's writing books," she whispers. "Children's books."

"No," he says, "sleep-time."

"They're from a dog's point of view." She tugs the comforter. "He wants to feature Doctor on the cover."

"Doctor?" He opens one eye. "Why?"

"One book is called, 'People are Salty,'" she says. "The other is, 'Why Lick Bums?'" She tucks the comforter across her night-gown.

"Jesus," he says.

She closes her eyes. "He's the handsomest dog he knows," she says.

7. The Missing Leaf

He is looking for a reason in his coffee that the coffee tastes bad. His cereal sits unsugared beside him next to the morning paper and the new 45.

"Honey," she says, "at the gallery with William and Carry yesterday I saw a Chinese. It looked very nice. It was lovely."

"Maybe it's time to clean the coffee machine," he says.

She shrugs. "What do you think? A Chinese?"

"I think I'd rather have a Puerto Rican," he says.

"Let's look at everything and see how we feel. Also," she pauses lightly, "Puerto Rican ones get fat when they're bigger, and that's not attractive." She looks at him. Rather than the thirty-eight pant they once bought, they now buy him a forty-four. He is really, he reminds her, a forty-two, but they buy the forty-four because they both know he will certainly gain ten pounds in the winter.

"Terry thinks we're going to win," he says. "Terry thinks it's a sure thing. Terry's seen a lot of cases come and go."

She shrugs. "How do you like your new pants?" Her shoulders move smoothly up and down underneath the blue morning gown.

"They're fine." He struggles to get up and she hands him the cane.

He thumps into the pantry which is stocked, top to bottom, with oatmeal-raisin power bars. They have heard the alteration rumor and thought it best to stock up now, in case the alteration should not be a good one.

"You didn't eat your breakfast," she says, following him into the pantry. She puts a hand on his shoulder. "Are you okay?"

"Fine." He thumps out of the pantry.

"Well," she says, "I'm giving it to Doctor, then."

"Fine," he says. He stands in the doorway, watching the dog move its large rose tongue.

"I hate to waste," she says, "now that the Marlowe case isn't looking so good."

"I said fine." He opens the door.

"Honey? Do you have yours with you?"

"Yes," he says impatiently, "I have it with me." He is halfway down the walk.

"Check your briefcase." She squeezes the dog's ears. "Check, to be sure." The dog whimpers but does not move away from the bowl of Sugar-Sugar-Oats!

He opens the case and lovingly explores the soft suede interior, filled with his papers, his unworn watch, extra ace bandages, pain medication, Q-tips, small wrapped chocolates and a dozen power bars. "It's not here," he says. "Someone must've took it."

"Hold on." She wraps her morning-gown around herself. "I'll go look." A minute later she returns, the folds of white silk swinging neatly. "Here," she says. "You forgot it in the study." She gives it to him, carefully, nuzzle first.

He looks at the gun. Is it responsible? He points it at the sky. "See that leaf?" he asks, "the red one?"

"Yes," she says. The wind gusts her robe. One black squirrel, caught by that motion, becomes a statue on the lawn. "The red one," she says, "the one with three flat prongs."

He shoots. Two golds and a brown weave down to the sidewalk.

She smiles slowly and claps her white hands. The small applause goes away, down the sidewalk, in the wind. "It was very, very close," she says.

8. The Malaise

He is reading the paper. He is especially enjoying the intelligent article by a Japanese writer, entitled, "The Malaise."

"I see you're enjoying the paper," she says. She is holding Truman, rocking Truman back and forth in her arms.

"Twenty-two!" he says. "This one got twenty-two before they got him."

She burps Truman carefully against her shoulder. "It was nice of William and Carry to renew the subscription for us," she says.

"I guess so," he says. He stares at Truman.

Truman drools back.

"Where's Doctor?"

She shrugs. "Probably asleep in his chair. You know his hip gives him pain."

"Doctor!" There is no response. "Doctor!" he yells.

Truman fists her hair and yanks. A viscous pool runs down her day-gown. "Please don't yell," she says. "Not with Truman in the room. It's a bad atmosphere."

"Doctor!" he yells.

"What's upsetting you?" She sits down, pushing the baby's face into her robe. "Is it because you're losing the Marlowe case?"

"The Marlowe case is going great," he says. "It's going great. Tell William and Carry not to pluck their turkeys. Tell Carry and William their horse is necking other horses. Tell those good-fence-neighbors it's just going to be a few weeks now till their cock is kicking the other cocks and I want them to get at least twenty percent."

"You know they don't want that." She shakes her head delicately, watching him attempt to struggle out of his chair, and lays Truman, face down, on the table, so that she can give him his cane. "But they would like it sooner rather than later," she says, "if you could settle. . .I've a feeling the other side might settle, if you asked." She hands him his briefcase, along with a snackpack of power bars.

He thumps to the door.

"And please pick up my cardigan at the cleaners," she says.

He is halfway down the driveway.

"Honey?" she says.

He turns around. She is also in the driveway, in her day-gown. She gestures lightly at the three-pronged leaf, lifts the new bridal revolver, and shoots. The three-pronged red floats slowly down, turning over and over in the light fall breeze.

9. Doctor, Doctor

"Fatty," Truman smacks the tray, "Fatty."

He is eating his cereal. "Truman," he says, "please give Fatty the paper."

Truman moves towards the bedroom with the paper.

"Truman," he calls, "bring Fatty the paper."

"Truman," Truman yells, "Truman!"

"Honey," she walks in, dressed for the position she has taken at William and Carry's firm, "I wish you wouldn't be so insistent with Truman. It's emotionally restrictive. Or," she adds, "if you must be restrictive, I wish you would be better at it."

"Doctor," he calls. His ass lifts awkwardly in his chair. "Doctor!"

"Honey." She frowns. "Doctor's dead."

He moves his head up and down. Her mother's antique Colonial creaks underneath him. It is far too small for his body. He can barely walk. He looks out the window to see whether or not his car has come.

"It's almost here," she says.

"Honey?"

"What?" She does not turn around. She remains, in her apple-colored suit, one hand poised upon the glass.

"Do you think of me when I'm gone?"

She continues to look out the window. She can hear Truman playing in the other room and this brings a smile to her lips. "It may be time to get you a new pair of chinos," she says.

"Yes," he nods, "it probably is. But do you think of me when I'm gone?"

She turns around. "If you were me, she says, then you would know what I thought."

10. The Losing of the Marlowe Case

The morning after losing the Marlowe case, he wakes feeling strangely well. She is lying asleep, one arm flung up over her head, pulling taut the skin across her ribcage. Her breasts loll neatly toward the left. He knows she has been up all night, secretly and futiley researching appeal possibilities, and feels a pleasant satisfaction in knowing this. He climbs onto her body without waking her. When she feels his front teeth on her nipple she opens one eye and slowly closes it again. A blue vein moves in one mostly-shut lid. He pulls her legs apart and kneels on top of her, on his knees, without pain for the first time in years, and licking two fingers for moisture, firmly rubs first her outer fold, then her center. Her long white hands, laid down, gently clench and unclench. He continues. He sees Truman, in his some-bunny suit, standing, alert, in the doorway, and he continues, and she shuts her eyes, and Truman goes away.

11. Happiness

She is eating her cereal.

"Do you like it?" he says. He has made the coffee, six scoops, creamed and sugared her cup.

"Oh yes," she says, admiringly. "It's very good." She has read the paper, the Sports section, because she likes to learn new things. The bridal briefcase which they have bought her, quadrangular and black with a little gold handle, sits ready on the table, with several blank papers inside, for note-taking. On the front of the Sports section is a photograph of a man, poised, in the middle of playing a sport. She sips her coffee and studies this. "Sometimes," she says, "I look at other men."

He nods.

"And I realize," she continues, "that those men are not you."

"I know," he says. He refills her coffee and stirs it with a tiny silver spoon. "I know they're not me."

"Well," she says, "shall I see you at five? Shall we see the new movie, the one with the girl?"

"It's not a movie for Truman," he says. "Why don't we see the other movie, the one with dogs. Truman likes dogs." This thought makes him happy -- Truman liking dogs!

When she is halfway down the drive she stops.

"Yes?" he asks.

"I'll think of you today," she says. "I'm planning on thinking of you."

"That's fine," he says. "I'll think of you too."

She frowns. "But how will you manage that, with Truman?"

"I don't think as intensely as you do," he says.

"Oh," she says. She considers this. And although she has not often felt this way, she is pleased, and as she makes her way to work, she is almost thrilled.