Vivian had cut her hair short and the blonde curls now rested near her
earlobes. The earrings he'd bought her were gone; '08 or '09, an off year, he
remembered, a kind of second honeymoon. The dimples were still there, even
without her smiling, which of course she didn't when she saw his black
Chevrolet slide in between two cars across the street. She had her gardening
gloves on--like oven mitts on her tiny, china-like hands--and in a moment she
stood and shaded her eyes from the strong sun. Her upper lip was tucked in and
her slight overbite caught the sunlight and fused into one bar of teeth.

He tore his eyes off her and finished parking. Sadie, sitting in the
passenger's seat, patted her forehead with a wad of tissue, checking herself on
the side mirror. He kept the engine running and switched on the A/C for her.
"Stay in the car," he said. She reached for the handle anyway, and he told her
again. "I said stay in the car."

"She gonna get mad again?" It was mocking talk, only half-serious, but not
playful. He felt the air coming out of the vents with his palm. It was hot and
heavy like bad breath. Sadie folded her arms and sat back, pressing the tops of
her lips together like women do after they put on lipstick--though she was
wearing none. He swatted a bead of sweat crawling down the back of his neck and
looked at his wet palm.

"You're so afraid of her, Christ," said Sadie. He continued to stare at his
hand, wondering what it would be like to wipe it on Sadie's face. A schoolyard
prank, spit on your hands and clap the first girl you see.

"What do you want from me?"

"You just eat her up don't you?" she said, pushing her finger into his thigh.
"You just eat her up."

"Eat her up? What?"

"You think about her when we're making love, I know."

He had, in fact, thought about Vivian, though never intentionally. She just
drifted into his psyche sometimes, like a fly through a half-open window.
Snippets of intense clarity, like the slow moments before a car crash. At any
rate, he would not call what they did making love. With Vivian he was gentle,
slow, but Sadie was a biter and a scratcher and the pain she inflicted often
inspired caveman antics.

"I've never said her name in my sleep, though," he said, bringing up an old
argument he felt he had won and hoping to run through its rails again.

"Well go on, then. She's waiting for you," she pouted, which made him want to
stay and hold her. He was weak for her, for all their kind, and felt proud of
such a compassionate, lustful check to his strength. It made him feel young.

"You don't have to be angry," he said, touching the side of her throat with his
thumb, moving aside a strand of hair. She didn't turn, but he felt her tense.

"I am livid," she said, with no energy, barely audible above the gale of the
A/C.

"What if we did it right here? Is she watching? What if we just went at it like
a couple of ex-cons?"

She smiled and tried to hide it. "Like Bonnie and Clyde," she said. He was
already kissing the side of her mouth and her hand had crawled up the back of
his shirt like a spider with nails.  When she spoke, he hadn't heard her
properly and broke off.

"What?"

"Like Bonnie and Clyde-- you know, criminals? It's what you said."

"Oh, yeah." And he remembered the first shot of the movie, the girl with her
head on the metal bars of the bedframe, looking mournful and Vivian with those
same eyes the day he'd told her about what happened at Laguna beach. And him
digging into her, turning it into an obscene lie until she ran away into the
bedroom sobbing, pulling clothes out of every drawer. He'd followed her and
pulled her arm out from the chest, bruising her tiny wrists. She fell back on
the bed, but never cried out and he stood over her awkwardly, like over an
insect he'd stepped on.

Sadie tried to shimmy onto his lap, but he shook his head and grabbed the door
handle. "I'll be right back."

"What? What did I do?"

"I'll be right back, just stay in the car."