Peter gave her a half-nod.
“Doesn’t it seem that he’s always off somewhere?” Claire said. “I read somewhere that he’s traveled almost one hundred thousand miles in his presidency.” Of course she knew exactly where she’d read it. Just a couple of hours ago in the new Time magazine.
“Well,” Peter said. “He is the president.”
Claire handed Peter a cracker, admiring the squiggle of cheese on top. Ever since she had first bought cheese in a spray can, she’d gotten better at making even lines or perfect bull’s-eyes. One afternoon, her neighbor Dot had all the neighborhood women over for Grasshoppers and a lesson in how to use the damn spray can of cheese. That had done it, even though the Grasshoppers made her half drunk and Peter came home to find her asleep on the sofa, no dinner made and a tray full of dozens of crackers and cheese.
She watched as he popped the whole thing in his mouth without even looking at it.
“Did you know, darling,” Claire said, “that one third of the nation is living in the suburbs now?”
At this, he looked up at her, impressed or surprised, she wasn’t sure which.
“Is that so?” he said.
Claire nodded.
In the weeks to come, she would hear him repeat this statistic like he knew something about it. Like he had discovered the fact himself. By that time, she had already begun to dislike him, so this boasting made her hate him even more.
It was after dinner that Joe Daniels appeared in their yard, looking worried and hot.
Claire and Peter were still sitting at the patio table, sipping B & B. Claire had already put Kathy to bed, and the evening was winding down in that gentle way June evenings do. Peter’s stockinged foot ran lightly up Claire’s bare calf, a sign that he would want to make love tonight, despite the heat. She thought fleetingly of the fans still up in the attic. The heat had come on suddenly and she’d been unprepared. She wondered if she might convince Peter to get them down. Or at least to put one in their bedroom. The thought of him sweaty on top of her was not appealing.
His foot moved up and down, up and down. His cigarette was almost finished. If she could move this along, they might be done by ten, in time for Hawaiian Eye. With that in mind, Claire inched her chair closer to her husband’s and put her hand on his thigh.
“Hello!” Joe Daniels called into the yard.
Claire jerked her hand back and got quickly to her feet, her face hot as if they’d been caught actually doing something.
Peter got to his feet, one hand already extended to shake Joe’s. But Joe didn’t seem to notice. Instead of looking at either of them, his eyes swept the backyard.
“Joe,” Claire said. “Would you like to join us for a B & B?”
“No, no,” he said. “I’m looking for my boy. For Dougie,” he added.
Claire detected panic rising in his voice.
“He didn’t come home for dinner,” Joe said, “and Gladys is practically hysterical. She’s called just about everybody and no one’s seen him.”
“I saw him,” Claire said. “This afternoon.”
She pointed to the chair where she’d sat and read the Time magazine, which still lay in the grass where she’d left it. Claire made a mental note to bring it inside or it would get soggy and Peter would complain that she was careless.
“He was with a bunch of boys talking about space, about going to the moon,” Claire told Joe.
For a moment, Joe looked relieved. But then his face grew worried again.
“When was that?” he asked.
“Around four,” Claire said.
“Are you sure?”
“It was right before Kathy woke up from her nap,” Claire said. “I came out for a breather.” She pointed to the magazine and the abandoned glass of ice tea.
“All right,” Joe Daniels said, nodding. “All right. But then, where could he be now?”
Claire had no answer for that.
“You know how boys are,” Peter said. He touched the other man’s arm. “He’s probably catching frogs or fireflies or some such.”
Joe nodded again. “It’s just so late, that’s all. Almost nine-thirty.”
“Is it that late already?” Claire said, thinking not about Dougie Daniels but about how she would certainly miss Hawaiian Eye tonight.
“And it’s a school night,” Joe said.
“I hate to bring this up,” Peter said quietly, “but have you called the police?”
Joe gulped air as if he were a drowning man.
“I guess that’s the next step,” he said.
“I’m sure Dougie is fine,” Claire said brightly. “Boys will be boys.”
“It’s just so late,” Joe said again.