What We Talk About When We Talk About Love: Stories

feet on the floor and leaned forward, elbows on the table, his chin cupped in his hands.
    "Maybe I won't call the kids, after all. Maybe it isn't such a hot idea. Maybe we'll just go eat. How does that sound?"
    "Sounds fine to me," I said. "Eat or not eat. Or keep drinking. I could head right on out into the sunset."
    "What does that mean, honey?" Laura said.
    "It just means what I said," I said. "It means I could just keep going. That's all it means."
    "I could eat something myself," Laura said. "I don't think I've ever been so hungry in my life. Is there something to nibble on?"
    "I'll put out some cheese and crackers," Terri said.
    But Terri just sat there. She did not get up to get anything.
    Mel turned his glass over. He spilled it out on the table.
    What We Talk About When We Talk About Love
    "Gin's gone," Mel said.
    Terri said, "Now what?"
    I could hear my heart beating. I could hear everyone's heart. I could hear the human noise we sat there making, not one of us moving, not even when the room went dark.
    One More Thing
    L. D. ' S wife, Maxine, told him to get out the night she came home from work and found L.D. drunk again and being abusive to Rae, their fifteen-year-old. L.D. and Rae were at the kitchen table, arguing. Maxine didn't have time to put her purse away or take off her coat.
    Rae said, "Tell him, Mom. Tell him what we talked about."
    L.D. turned the glass in his hand, but he didn't drink from it. Maxine had him in a fierce and disquieting gaze.
    "Keep your nose out of things you don't know anything about," L.D. said. L.D. said, "I can't take anybody seriously who sits around all day reading astrology magazines."
    "This has nothing to do with astrology," Rae said. "You don't have to insult me."
    What We Talk About When We Talk About Love
    As for Rae, she hadn't been to school for weeks. She said no one could make her go. Maxine said it was another tragedy in a long line of low-rent tragedies.
    "Why don't you both shut up!" Maxine said. "My God, I already have a headache."
    "Tell him, Mom," Rae said. "Tell him it's all in his head. Anybody who knows anything about it will tell you that's where it is!"
    "How about sugar diabetes?" L.D. said. "What about epilepsy? Can the brain control that?"
    He raised the glass right under Maxine's eyes and finished his drink.
    "Diabetes, too," Rae said. "Epilepsy. Anything! The brain is the most powerful organ in the body, for your information."
    She picked up his cigarettes and lit one for herself.
    "Cancer. What about cancer?" L.D. said.
    He thought he might have her there. He looked at Maxine.
    "I don't know how we got started on this," L.D. said to Maxine.
    "Cancer," Rae said, and shook her head at his simplicity. "Cancer, too. Cancer starts in the brain."
    "That's crazy!" L.D. said. He hit the table with the flat of his hand. The ashtray jumped. His glass fell on its side and rolled off. "You're crazy, Rae! Do you know that?"
    "Shut up!" Maxine said.
    She unbuttoned her coat and put her purse down on the counter. She looked at L.D. and said, "L.D., I've had it. So has Rae. So has everyone who knows you. I've been thinking it over. I want you out of here. Tonight. This minute. Now. Get the hell out of here right now."
    One More Thing
    L.D. had no intention of going anywhere. He looked from Maxine to the jar of pickles that had been on the table since lunch. He picked up the jar and pitched it through the kitchen window.
    Rae jumped away from her chair. "God! He's crazy!"
    She went to stand next to her mother. She took in little breaths through her mouth.
    "Call the police," Maxine said. "He's violent. Get out of the kitchen before he hurts you. Call the police," Maxine said.
    They started backing out of the kitchen.
    'Tm going," L.D. said. "All right, I'm going right now," he said. "It suits me to a tee. You're nuts here, anyway. This is a nuthouse. There's another life out there. Believe me, this is no picnic, this nuthouse."
    He could feel air from the hole in the window on his face.
    "That's where I'm going," he said. "Out there," he said and pointed.
    "Good," Maxine said.
    "All right, I'm going," L.D. said.
    He slammed down his hand on the table. He kicked back his chair. He stood up.
    "You won't ever see me again," L.D. said.
    "You've given me plenty to remember you by," Maxine said.
    "Okay," L.D. said.
    "Go on, get out," Maxine said. "I'm paying the rent here, and I'm saying go. Now."
    "I'm going," he said. "Don't push me," he said. "I'm going."
    What We