Machine Dreams

desperate, too. But a hard case like Katie has to have exactly what she
needs
—” Gladys paused for emphasis “—to forget what she
wants
, and have her desperation satisfied.”
    “Well, what does she want?” Danner asked.
    “Something else besides what she has,” Gladys answered.
    “But that’s human nature, Gladys,” Jean said. “Everyone wants what they don’t have.”
    “Not as bad as Katie does.”
    “Gladys,” Jean said sarcastically, “maybe you’d better have a talk with Katie right away.”
    “Not me. You can’t talk to a hard case.” Gladys placed the bowl of beans in her lap with deliberation, pleased with herself.
    “What do you mean by ‘satisfied?’ ” Danner sat hugging her knees, gazing down the expanse of lawn to the fence. Billy was rounding the bottom boundary of the grass, pedaling evenly. The whispering radio swung, veering its music closer in a shimmered falsetto:
in the jungle, the mighty jungle, the lion sleeps tonight©.
The high-pitched words were not loud across the distance, but carried audibly; Billy passed the flaming barbecue in a stop-time and moved out of sight as a shuffled
wee mah wettah, wee mah wettah
faded with him.
    “And they call that music,” Gladys said, brushing at the front of her skirt. “As for
satisfied
, I’m not saying people
stay
satisfied. You’d be crazy to stay satisfied in this life.”
    “I’ll sugar these berries,” Jean said, and she took Danner’s bowl. “Danner, go ask your dad what time we’ll eat.”
    “Jean and Gladys will just have to wait. These coals are still burning down.” Mitch held the clean grill of the barbecue in one hand and looked into the fire.
    “How long does it take?” Danner asked, studying the heat. She stared into the coals as the fire flickered in jagged orange pieces, then disappeared. The briquets glimmered, disintegrating slowly, each piece growing a white ashen fur that looked as though it would be soft to the touch. How could he have danced with Katie? Danner’s eyes burned from looking at the warmth.
    “Stand back a little,” her father said gently, and touched her shoulder.
    Danner moved back as music approached, and she saw Billy riding fast across the bottom of the lawn. “Daddy, I want my radio. Will you tell Billy to stop and give it to me?”
    “I don’t know if he can stop, Miss. He’s glued to that bicycle.” But he put the grill down and walked a bit to the side, gesturing to Billy. He wore his khaki work clothes when he cooked on the barbecue; from behind he looked big and blockish, and Billy swerved near him, showing off. Mitch walked back toward Danner, shaking his head good-naturedly as Billy stopped.
    “You shouldn’t go in my room unless you ask,” Danner said loudly.
    Billy kicked the kickstand down in the soft grass and tilted the bike at a safe angle as the radio swung perilously; Billy caught it as it dropped from the handlebars, and he turned the volume down. “You know you go in my room,” he said. His white T-shirt was stretched and grass-stained; he was sweaty and smelled of grass. His lips were slightly swollen and his eyes teary; every spring he had allergies that lasted into summer.
    “You’re better off if he keeps that radio,” Mitch said to Danner. “Doc Reb tells me that crap they play is bad for your mind.”
    “I’m not hurting her radio,” Billy said, walking close. “How could I hurt it?”
    “Give your sister the radio.” Mitch reached out and took it, then tousled Billy’s hair. “You need yourself a crewcut. Hungry?”
    Billy nodded. “Why can’t I have my own radio?”
    “You could have had,” Danner said. “You asked for a new bike instead.” She opened her palm for the radio, then held it close to her ear and shook it. She turned it off and on. “So don’t complain,” she said softly.
    Billy moved next to her. “Can I give her a little shove?” he asked Mitch.
    “You give her a shove and I’ll give you a crack on the head. You don’t horse around near these hot coals. How many times do I have to tell you?” He frowned and shifted his weight, holding the long meat fork.
    “You have to tell him one hundred times, for one hundred years.” Danner held the radio to Billy’s cheek. “You have to tell him from an airplane.”
    “I’m talking to both of you,” Mitch said. “Billy, put your bike away and go wash up. And I don’t want you riding out to the airport again tomorrow. It’ll be busy before the