"O.K., O.K., I lost it," Ronnie admits to Janice. "There was no reason to be rude, people can't help how they got born."
"You should call and apologize." This incident has given her an edge, and anger enough to use it. He had seen in the girl this dead woman he had fucked, and moved toward her, and made an assault in his frustration1. This did not speak well of what his wife meant to him. What she meant, she saw when she cleared her head, was a kind of revenge on Harry2, and the possession of this house. This is my house, he had said, but it was not, it was her house, the house she had been raised in, the house her mother's pride had cleaned and polished and her father's money had maintained. They were surrounded by Koerner and Springer things; the Angstroms and the Harrisons had contributed hardly a stick of furniture, they were nobodies in the county, they would leave nothing behind but their headstones.
"I'm not ready," Ronnie tells her. "I can't trust myself to do the right thing. She's a Clinton-lover, for Chrissake. She must hang around with a bunch of North Brewer3 weirdos."
He wanted to fuck the girl, Janice perceives, and is wife enough to feel sorry for him, thinking of his burdensome prick5 that hangs at such loose ends below his furry6 pot belly7, a prick with a flat upper side, a heavy mournful club, circumsized, unlike Harry's. Nowhere to hide its head. "Then call Nelson at least," she says.
"We don't know where he is, do we?" He is correctly guessing that she knows more than he. A long weekend has gone by since Thanksgiving. Nelson came over while Ronnie was at church Sunday. Ronnie faithfully goes to that no-name fundamentalist church beyond Arrowdale that he and Thelma used to attend. Once when Janice asked him why he bothered, he snapped, "The same reason anybody goes. Because we're all sinners." Janice felt this as a slap in her face. Harry would never have said it; he never thought he sinned. She tries not to hate Thelma now that she is dead but she shouldn't have to share both husbands with her. Janice has inherited Episcopalianism from her mother but without Bessie Springer's habit of attendance. There has been for years too much to do on a Sunday morning, her women's tennis group at the Flying Eagle in the summer and in the winter her sessions on the Stepmaster at the Fitness Center at the dying mall on the way to Brewer. She is determined8 not to get fat like Mother. Her trim little figure is the thing she likes best about herself. Anyway, Mother had friends to go with after Daddy was gone—Grace Stuhl, Amy Gehringer—and Janice has none. So she stays home Sunday mornings with the Brewer Standard in all its color-printed sections while her husband communes with the dead.
Knowing this, Nelson called five minutes after Ronnie stepped out the door and was there in his car fifteen minutes later. He took away two armfuls of clothes and said he'd be back for one of the television sets and a couple of upstairs chairs when he had a place of his own. He was sleeping on Annabelle's floor over on East Muriel Street until he could begin to look for a room on Monday. She was fine, just cried a lot because all of the Harrisons hated her. He had told her that Georgie didn't hate her, and the others were out of touch with their true feelings. Anyway, it had been his mistake. Another mistake, he realized, had been hanging on in this house so long, for lack of a better idea and having the delusion9 that his mother needed him. "You don't need me, Mom. You're doing fine. Ronnie's fine, for being a fat-headed bozo. Tell him sometime that he was good to put up with me so long."
She couldn't argue, really. She loved Nelson for all they had been through together but she was past the age when she could oblige his neediness10. She and Ronnie left alone tended to each other's needs, one of which, never stated, was getting ready for death, which could start any time now. A pain in the night, a sour number on the doctor's lab tests, and the skid11 would begin. They had seen their spouses12 go that way. She had felt her baby slip from her soapy hands and for some few seconds be unfindable in the tub's opaque13 gray water. If there was any truth in what the churches said she would be reunited with her baby, not so far from now. Death had that to offer her.
She had given Nelson a piece of mince14 pie that she had saved in the freezer for him and said how sorry she was about what had happened. Everybody felt terrible about it, except Deet and the three children, she guessed. "No," Nelson said, "it was clarifying. It showed me what a pipsqueak leech15 I tend to be. There was no reason to drag you all in, my sister is something that concerns Dad and me, not you."
That was yesterday. She tells Ronnie now, "You could call him at work." He understands it as a command, for his having overstepped.
It is not an easy call to make, but no worse than hounding a prospect16 into buying insurance. You construct a shell for yourself, and speak from within it. "Nelson, got a minute?"
"A minute, yes." He has the Relationships group in ten minutes.
"Listen, I feel rotten about the way I spoke18 to Annabelle."
His using her name offends Nelson, but he listens.
"I must have been drunk," Ronnie goes on.
"Were you that drunk? Mentioning her mother's cunt?" The clients at the Center may be dysfunctional but they have rabbit ears. Through the open door of his tiny office Nelson sees several heads out in the milieu19 turn, including that of Rosa, who talks to Jesus. She is with a new client, a forty-seven-year-old female obsessive-compulsive. During the intake20 he was struck by the new client's hands, so painfully scrubbed and chapped, and the fingernails nibbled21 down to the pink parts. Pru had had such long red hands, he remembers—gawky in the wrists, tender at the tips.
"Look," Ronnie's voice presses on, "I'm calling to say I'm sorry, you're not supposed to make it harder."
"I'm not? Some would say that you owe the apology not to me but to Annabelle."
"I don't trust myself to talk to her. Her being such a bleeding heart for Clinton still pisses me off."
"Was it really Clinton that pissed you off? Tell me, Ronnie, when you looked at her, what did you see?"
"I saw a bleeding-heart broad too big for her miniskirt."
"Anything else? Come on. Help yourself. Think."
"I saw Ruth Leonard back in the Fifties. She'd fuck anybody."
"More. Who else did you see?"
Ronnie is silent, but his silence conveys less animosity than an attempt to think. This is the best conversation Nelson has ever had with Ronnie. His moving out has done that, in just four days. For the first lime, Ronnie owes him some respect. "You want me to say your father," he comes up with.
"Only if it's true."
"It's true. She has more of him in her than you do. Stop asking all these questions trying to make me spill my guts22. You're sore at me and always have been because I ball your mother."
"Are you sure about that? Maybe I like you for it; I can't do it. The fact is, I don't dislike you, Ronnie. You don't threaten me the way you did Dad, for some reason. I like you. I like the way you take care of Mom and care about that big homely23 barn of a house. You're a caring guy. Insurance salesmen are caring guys, worrying about the loved ones when the breadwinner packs it in. You try to make the dead effective just like I try to make the crazy effective. We're not hotshots but we're responsible citizens. What bugs24 you about Clinton is that he seems to get away with everything. The same with my father. Let me tell you something, Ronnie, something I've observed: nobody gets away with anything. Those that escape punishment inflict25 it on themselves. We all do it. We keep our own accounts."
Ronnie is silent, weighing this, looking for the hook. "What b.s.," he says at last. "Nellie, you've become a bullshit artist."
"Another reason I like you, Ronnie," Nelson rushes on, the insight having just come to him with a force that needs to be vented26, "is that you and I are about the last people left on earth my father still bugs. He bugs us because we wanted his good opinion and didn't get it. He was worse than we are but also better. He beat us out. You look at Annabelle and see living proof that he beat you out— you may have fucked Ruth but he knocked her up and he stares out of her face at you. Right?"
"You've lost me," Ronnie admits. "Tell me, what does this kid do for you?"
"Me, it's like she's something my father left me to take care of, and I don't have a clue how to do it. Thanksgiving wasn't the answer. Your sons sure weren't the answer."
Ron Harrison's voice becomes pious27. "Nellie, I'm going to speak the truth in love. What I say is going to help you. She's a slick little twat and can take care of herself. Let me tell you something that will shock you. Back in the kitchen, I turned her on. She wanted me to ball her. I felt it, and I had to get ugly, for everybody's sake. I sacrificed myself."
"Talk about bullshit," Nelson says, and hangs up. While he has been on the phone so long, Rosa and the new client have been scared off, horrified28 by what they have overheard. He ventures out into the milieu after them, to find out what they wanted, and to show them how sane29 and normal and trustworthy he basically is.
From: Dad [[email protected]]Sent: Friday, December 10, 1999 5:11 PMTo: [email protected]: change of address
Dear Roy—Sorry to let your messages and jokes accumulate. The one about how many Texas A & M students does it take to screw in a light bulb is funny but it seems a little heartless, seeing that twelve young people were killed making that bonfire pile and most were freshmen30 who had just been told to do this by people who should have known better. Remem-ber when you get to college to trust your own judgment31. I wasted a lot of time at beery frat foolishness at Kent State until your mother took me in hand. She was a little older than I and had more of a realistic upbringing.
The reason I have been slow to answer lately is that I moved out of the house where your grandmother and Mr Harrison live, so I don't have daily access to this computer and am using it now on the sly when they are both out at the mall doing Christmas shopping and then maybe a movie, either the new James Bond or new Tom Hanks. Some rude words at Thanksgiving prompted my departure but I've been thinking of it for some time. Your mother and I used to discuss it while you and Judy were growing up there but we never got around to it, the rent was too good ($0.00).
For somewhat more than that amount ($85 a week, so tell your mother I have this new expense) I have rented a big front second-story room on Almond Street, just off Elsenhow-er Avenue three blocks from the underpass, where you and Judy and Mom if she wants can stay when you come east after Christmas. We can put mattresses32 on the floor and borrow sleeping bags from the two girls who live in the other half of the second floor here. They are both in their twenties and what we used to call secretaries but have titles like administra-tive assistant and corporate33 input34 organizer. I hardly ever see them but can hear them with their obnoxious35 dates sometimes late at night.
I have been living on Almond Street only a week but am pretty happy. The apartment comes with a cable television set and other essential furnishings and a bathroom with shower. There's no kitchen but your grandmother stood me to a little microwave, a 1.2-cubic-ft. Magic Chef, for coffee in the morning and a TV dinner at night. There's a 7-Eleven just down the street. This used to be the landlady's daughter's room until she married and moved away, so there are a lot of frilly nice touches left over.
When you come you must meet your new aunt, a half-aunt if there is such a thing, Annabelle. She is shy but very nice, and knows all about you. Those protests in Seattle reminded me of when I was about your age and people were protesting everything, rioting in the streets. Policemen were called pigs and the President was called worse, just like now. I suppose things move in cycles.
I'm glad your birthday went nicely and I'm sorry it slipped my mind. Let me know what you would like for a present and we can get it when you visit. Your own cell phone seems a bit much even if other kids have them. There is a monthly charge, you know, that you would be responsible for. You can keep using this for your e-mail to me but as I say I can't answer easily. At work they don't want you to use the comput-ers for private e-mail. But I have a phone in my apartment: 610-846-7331. Call me when you feel like a chat. Love to you and all those fabulous36 Akron Angstroms, Dad.
He is not surprised when Pru calls the next evening. Her voice is
lighter37, more girlish than he remembers. "Nelson, what got into
you to leave your mother's at last?"
"It felt crowded. Ronnie's a prick, like my father always said."
"This so-called sister—did she put you up to it?"
"No, Annabelle would never apply pressure that way."
"Well, she got you to do something I never could."
"Oh? You were never that clear. You were ambivalent38, like me. It was a free ride, with a built-in babysitter."
She pauses, checking her memory against his. He can picture her lips, drawn39 back in thought in her bony face, like an astronaut's when the G's of force begin to tug40. She says, "Maybe it was Pennsylvania I needed to get out of. It's all very dear and friendly, but there's this thick air or whatever, this moral undertone. I think Judy is better off without all that to rebel against."
"And Roy?"
"He's scary, of course, spending so much time at the computer, but a lot of his friends are like that too. Where you and I see a screen full of more or less the same old crap, they see a magic space, full of tunnels and passageways and pots of gold. He's grown up with it."
He is being invited, he realizes, to talk as a parent, a collaborator41 in this immense accidental enterprise of bringing another human being into the world. "Yeah, well, there's always something. TV, cars, movies, baseball. Lore42. People have to have lore. Anyway, Roy has always been kind of a space man."
"He masturbates like crazy, though. There's all this porn on the Internet. And he doesn't have the housekeeping sense to wipe up the sheet with a handkerchief."
Nelson sighs, seeing sex loom43 ahead for Roy as a dark and heartless omnivore. "Well, yes. He thinks it doesn't show. I thought the same thing, I guess. How's your life, by the way, in the romance department?"
He wouldn't have dared ask a week ago, but moving out has given him a fresh footing with not only his stepfather but his estranged44 wife. Pru is a year older than he and that year has figured in their relationship from the start, making her seem a greater prize when they dated at Kent State, enlarged by adult features like a secretary's salary and a car (a salt-rotted tan Valiant) and an apartment of her own up in Stow and knowing how to fuck, muscling her clitoris against his pelvic bone and coming matter-of-factly as if it was her woman's plain right. But then once they were married that year's difference became an embarrassment45, as if he had just switched mothers. No wonder she and Dad got together. Then in recent years the year's difference had swung back to mattering less, a slightly awkward fact like her also being left-handed, once they outgrew46 the year when she was forty and he only thirty-nine. He was forty-one when she left him, leaving in the muggy47 heat of August to enroll48 the children in Akron schools. She had complained for years about living with his mother and Ronnie and about his dead-end job babysitting these pathetic dysfunctionals, boosting his own ego49 at their expense, caring more about them than he did about his own wife and children, but what it boiled down to in his baffled mind was something she once shouted, her green eyes bright as broken glass in her reddened face: My life with you is too small! Too small. As if being a greaseball lawyer's input organizer and easy lay was bigger. But the size of a life is how you feel about it. Pru was one of seven children and, though her father, a former steamfitter, is dead of too many Buds and her wispy50 little lace-curtain-Irish-Catholic mother sits in assisted-living housing, she has six siblings51 and their broods to give her a big noisy theatre to do an aunt act in. Whereas Aunt Mim had only him. And now Annabelle.
"It's great, Mr. Nosy," says Pru. "Actually, I've given Gekopoulos notice, beginning next year. I'd like something more having to do with people, maybe in public relations. Slapping up injury claims and divorce settlements out of glossarized boilerplate isn't exactly non-repetitive."
He suppresses the insight that life as a whole isn't exactly non-repetitive. "It doesn't sound as if the job uses all your abilities."
"Well, thanks, but what abilities? somebody might ask. Still I have this crazy idea I must be good for something. I mean, I can be pleasant. People like me, at least at first. Maybe I should enlist52 with Judy in stewardess53 school. Except my palms get all sweaty whenever I fly. I hate how long it takes to land, skimming in over all these highways and cemeteries54."
She is spending Christmas with her mother and siblings and then driving to him, all the way across the great Commonwealth55, its mountains and quarries56, its mills and farms, along the Turnpike for eight or nine hours, Judy spelling her at the wheel, Roy playing video games at every rest stop. "When you come here after Christmas, where do you all want to sleep?" he asks. "I have only this one room. You could stay with Mom and Ronnie and I'll have the kids here in sleeping bags. Or is Judy too old for that?"
"Let's think about it," Pru says. "The basic thing is they see their father."
"Right. But can I say something? It'll be nice for me to see you, too."
"Uh-huh," she says, her tone Akron tough-girl flat.
"Let's try to have some fun when you come," he urges. "Life is too short."
"I'll put on Roy," she says. "Judy's out."
"How's it going?" he asks his son.
"O.K., good," is the guarded answer. Roy has always had this strange deep voice that takes Nelson by surprise. Judy he had no trouble loving from the start—her solemn hazel gaze, little square feet, her ankles flexible as wrists, the little split bun between her legs. Roy with his stern stare and upjutting button of a penis had a touch of the alien invader57, the relentless58 rival demanding space, food, attention.
"You got my e-mail, I guess."
"Yeah. Thanks."
"How's school going?"
"Good."
"Are you learning anything exciting?"
"Not really. The teacher in Computer Skills showed us some faulty programming in Windows 98. He thinks Bill Gates is holding the Net-surfing technology back at this point and the government is right."
This may have been the longest utterance59 he has ever heard from Roy. He says, "Well, you're way ahead of me. You're more at home with this stuff than I'll ever be."
"It's easy. It's all Boolean logic60."
"Is there anything you want to do in Diamond County? Shop at the outlets62? Eat at the restaurant on top of Mt. Judge? Go visit that limestone63 cave again? They may close it in the winter, actually." As he runs through this bleak64 list it occurs to him that there is nothing to do in Diamond County—just be born, live, and die.
But Roy's grave, resonant65 voice has picked up speed and purpose. "Dad, you may not know this but one of the greatest new biotech companies in the world is in Diamond County. In Hemmigtown, you know where that is?"
"Yes, I know." Nelson is wearying of being an attentive66 father. His son is a nerd, he realizes, a bore to his classmates and a nag67 to his teachers.
"Genomics dot com. They're famous on the Internet. They're learning how to transplant genes68 so you can make viruses that will eat people's diseases. And counteract69 the parts of a cell that cause aging. And all this neat stuff."
"Roy, it sounds horrible, frankly70. If nobody dies, where will all the new bodies go? But I'll check into it. You want to visit?"
"Well, I'd like at least to go look at the outside of the building."
"If you go inside, you might catch a virus."
"They wouldn't let you into that part of it."
"As I say, I'll look into it. I'm thrilled they're doing something here that you've heard of."
The boy is warming up. "Dad, did you know that eventually computer chips won't be manufactured at all, they'll be grown, like bacilli in a petri dish? Single ions will act as transistors71."
"Roy, I don't want to keep you from your homework."
"Yeah. O.K. Goodbye." And the receiver rattles72 down before Nelson has time to say, "I love you."
Christmas lights are up in Brewer, from a string of multicolored miniature twinkle-bulbs swagged in the window of the 7-Eleven on Almond Street to the green-and-red-floodlit concrete eagles at the top of the twenty-story county courthouse. Nelson can see this top, with its red-lipped flagpole, from his apartment's side window if he presses his face against the glass. In the commercial area around the Center, Discount Office Supplies has arranged conical stacks of reams of paper and automatic pencils and boxes of computer disks in its display window and drenched73 them with tinsel and confetti, and PrintSmart has duplicated a picture of a wreath on one sheet each of all the colored papers it can supply and hung these on a long string like wash, like laundry for a rainbow world. Within the Center, the clients, under staff supervision74, have made a brave attempt to keep the holiday blues75 away with cotton snow and lo-glo electric candles in the windows and a seven-foot tree as overloaded76 with handmade decorations as a disturbed mind is with inappropriate thoughts.
Nelson can walk home from work now, and enjoys these ten blocks west from Weiser Street past the old cough-drop factory, deserted77 but still smelling of menthol after all these years, and through the blocks of row houses put up, a block at a time, by workingmen's savings-and-loans associations in the century before this one, which is down to its last days. Some of the present residents have decorated their little porches and fanlighted doorways78 and front windows with a Catholic or Pentecostal fervor79 —doubled and tripled strands80 of gaudy81 colored bulbs and thick fringes of tinsel and here and there a plaster creche or an oleograph image of the adult Jesus as if to say this is what the starlit baby came to, the bearded God-Man born to be crucified.
Already they know Nelson at the 7-Eleven, and he knows the people who man the counter and guard the till: the slangy, hefty bleached82 blonde who sometimes has her little brown boy doing homework over in the corner behind the ten-cent photocopy84 machine; the frowning white girl with indifferent skin and close-cropped hair and a single tuft dyed green, always reading a fat college textbook and acting85 annoyed if you say anything friendly; the oldish man with a pleading, watery-eyed look and a very modest command of English, some kind of refugee from Communism's evaporated empire; the alarmingly big black guy, his head shaved, who has a rap and hip-hop station turned loud on the radio and is usually on the phone talking unintelligibly86 in Caribbean English; the tiny Hispanic girl with frizzy hair and a silver tongue-stud. They hardly notice now when Nelson comes in around five-thirty and buys his microwave dinner for the night and a half-pint carton of milk for his cereal, to sit overnight on the windowsill. The December nights have been so unseasonably warm, the milk quickly sours.
Nelson finds TV stupid but likes the technicolor fire of it, the way it flares87 up within a few seconds of his coming in the door and punching the remote. A genie88 when you rub a lamp, a multitude of genies89. He watches until he feels his intelligence being too rudely insulted or his patience being too arrogantly90 tested by the commercials, which interrupt at an ever-greedier ratio whenever the program gets interesting. Yet some commercials he waits for eagerly. There is the Nicoderm commercial that features this neat-looking woman about his age, with a slight crimp in her chin indicating maturity91 and experience, in a straight-shouldered dress, telling you what a sensible, efficient method this patch provides for quitting smoking. He loves the level, not-quite-smiling way she looks at you, implying that once you quit she and you will go on together on a purified basis. And he loves even more the younger woman advertising92 Secret Platinum93, "the strongest deodorizer you can buy without a prescription94." She is dark-complected and with utterly95 no fat on her except in her quite full lips, and as her pitch progresses, and her body jigs96 and jags across the screen, she sweats in growing torrents97 and at the commercial's climax98 pops a muscle, cocking her arm with a devilish sideways look right out at him. She works out hard and would fuck hard, the implication is. He needs a woman, Christ. Some nights, like in the joke his son e-mailed him, there isn't enough skin left to close his eyes. He tries to analyze99 himself: why do these two women in the commercials get to him? Both are strong, he sees. He wants a woman who will take over. The possibilities at work for him are poor: clients are off-bounds and your colleagues should be, even if they were more appealing than plain, earnest Katie Shirk, or pouty100, snotty Andrea, the art therapist, or Elenita, the Dominican receptionist, with her hair dyed orange and heaped on her head in woolly skeins like Sideshow Bob in The Simpsons, or Esther, who is Jewish and older than he and married to a downtown lawyer and too strong. In the bars he used to go to, the girls have gotten too much younger than he, so young they seem silly, like those two on the other side of the wall. They really do say "like" and "you know" and come down funny on the ends of their words like Valley Girls, tucking the "r"s down deep into their throats. He thinks they are putting him on, imitating Lisa Kudrow, but it's just the way they naturally talk. When one of the two girls on the other side of his wall stops giggling101 and her voice and the rumbly one of a date entwine with fewer and fewer words into silence and animal sounds, he cannot feel too jealous; it's like undressing a Barbie doll in his mind, and finding her smooth and stiff, no nipples and the legs don't bend.
He is waiting for some woman to call. Mom calls, to check on how he is, but there is more and more space between her calls. Local real estate is lively, as if at the end of the year—the century, the millennium102, the world as we've known it—people are agitated103 and looking for some sort of renewal104 by changing shelter. She herself is looking forward to Florida, where she still has the condo in Deleon, once Christmas and the visit from her grandchildren is over. "To be frank, Nelson, I almost dread105 it, it will seem so peculiar106, with you not in the house."
He is firm. "Ronnie acted like a prick to my sister, and those other Harrisons weren't much better. You were O.K., but just barely. After all, you were married to Dad for thirty-three years."
"Well, his having a love child doesn't sweeten my memories necessarily."
He smiles at the quaint107 phrase "love child." Nelson has always been close to his mother. It was drummed into him that he took after the Springers—little and dark-eyed, and something of a smooth operator like his grandfather, and he wonders now if he shouldn't let go of that. This sudden sister, this love child, is a chance to draw closer to Dad, the Angstrom side within him.
Yet his third lunch with Annabelle at The Greenery feels like a pull-back. Elm Street is bleak in December, and part of the bleakness108 is the uncanny warmth, over sixty today, wiping out any anticipation109 of a white Christmas and rousing the same fear of global warming as this summer's drought. The planet is being cooked. The oceans will rise, the croplands will become deserts. The Greenery seems demoralized. The only Christmas decorations up are some flattened110 white spheroids of a glimmering111 ersatz material in the window and against the mirrors behind the counter: not round real Christmas balls but ones in two-and-a-half dimensions, like some computer graphic112. Once again he apologizes to Annabelle for his extended family's bad behavior.
"It was bound to be awkward," she says. "I never should have gone."
"My mistake. I couldn't imagine anybody's not seeing you as I do."
"And how is that, Nelson?"
"As a lovely person," he says. A love child. He has an impulse to put his hands on hers where they rest, short-nailed and broad, on the Formica tabletop. She pulls her hands back as if reading his mind.
"I'm not such a lovely person, Nelson," she says. "I've done things, and had them done to me."
"We all have," he says. As the words leave his mouth they sound lamely113 big-brotherish to him. 'That's life," he adds, which is also dumb. But what was she talking about, exactly?
"I think," Annabelle says, "we should rest easy for a while. You're living alone and have things to sort out with your family. I'm not really your family."
Like those white Christmas balls that aren't really balls. "You are, dammit."
"I'll be going away before Christmas and some days after. That girl I mentioned, we were at St. Joe's together, she and her husband have invited me to go with them to Las Vegas, and, you know, I figured why not, I've never been there or hardly anywhere. They say if you don't gamble everything else is pretty cheap. There are all these fantastic new buildings you can wander around in for free."
"Hey, you must look up my Aunt Mim. Your Aunt Mim. Your father's sister. Seriously. I told her about you and she was enthusiastic. She's a real card, honest. She runs a beauty parlor114 out there. I don't know what name she uses now, she's had husbands, but Miriam Angstrom is her maiden115 name and I'll give you her number to call. I'll call her and warn her. Please do it. Please. It won't be awkward, I know. Aunt Mim is a real sport." It relieves him to think of Annabelle taken care of on the holiday, so he can sneak116 over to Ronnie and Mom's without a bad conscience. He wonders if everybody has a conscience like his, crimped early and always uneasy.
'I don't want to, Nelson. It'll be one more thing."
"Suit yourself," he says, sharply. She has rejected one of the few things he could give her, a treat and treasure out of his own genes. 'I'll leave her number on your machine but not tell her you're coming." The dispirited atmosphere inside The Greenery is getting to him. He and this half-stranger keep running out of things to say. Finally he asks her, resorting to television news, "So what do you think? Should the little Cuban boy be sent back to his father in that miserable117 country or kept in Disney World?"
"Sent back to his father."
"I agree." It was as uncanny as the weather, the way he and she agreed about everything.
The phone does ring one evening, while he's watching a Star Trek118 rerun. It's not a woman but a male voice from the past, Billy Fosnacht. "I got the number from your mother. I heard from little Ron Harrison you moved out. His wife is one of my patients."
"What a bitch she is. She's far Christian119 right."
"If you knew her jawbone like I do, you'd feel sorry for her. It's chalk. I've done three implants120, with my fingers crossed."
Billy went to dental school in Boston, near Boston, Tufts it was called. He and Nelson, friends in childhood, saw each other around Brewer in Nelson's bad-boy days, up at the Laid-Back and other local hangouts, but since Nelson got clean ten years ago there's been a fading away. "What's an implant121?" he asks.
"Nellie, how can you not know what an implant is? It's what I do. It's an osseous-integrated artificial tooth. The best ones are made in Sweden. You pull the real tooth, which is rotten by now right down to the root, otherwise you'd set a gold post in the root and crown it, and you open up the gum and insert a titanium screw with an inner thread as well as an outer, and if the bone bonds with it in five or six months you screw a fake tooth into it and the bite is as good as new. Better than new. I do three, four a day. It's the only time I'm happy, when I'm doing implants."
"You're not happy, Billy?"
"Forget I said that. I'll fill you in later. Let's have lunch. On me. I'm flush, and no wife to spend it for me."
Billy has learned a new way of talking—punchy, self-mocking, rapid. In their shared boyhood he had been four months older, a few inches taller, and the one to get the latest kiddie-fad for a present first. His mother and Dad had a little episode in the sexual mess of the Sixties, everybody splitting up back then. Since then Mrs. Fosnacht has died of breast cancer and Billy's father—a weedy little guy who used to run the music store above the old Baghdad movie theatre on Weiser Street, where the great hole in the ground is now—faded south to New Orleans, where jazz came from. The old playmates' conversation reveals that, though their clienteles rarely overlap122, they both work at giving fresh starts to members of the Brewer population, and that in middle age both are at personal loose ends. "Sure," says Nelson, of lunch.
They agree to meet downtown, at the restaurant on Weiser Square that was Johnny Frye's Chophouse many years ago and then became the Café Barcelona and then the Crêpe House and then Salad Binge and now under new management has been revived as Casa della Pasta, pasta supposed to be good for your arteries123 while having a little more substance than salads or crêpes. The day they meet, as it turns out, is the one after the day when Charles Schulz announced he was ending Peanuts and Jimmy Carter went down to Panama to give them the Canal.
"He got to give it away twice," Billy points out. "Once when he was President and now when he's a has-been. You notice Clinton's too smart to show his face. In ten years the Red Chinese will control it, just you watch. Those spics'll sell it off."
Nelson's father within him winces124 when anyone threatens to disparage125 Clinton or any sitting President. Dad had never much liked Billy, complaining about the boy's fat lips. Yet, seeing him, Nelson cannot but warm: here is a partner in his childish dreams, the conspiracy126 of imagined speed and triumphant127 violence that boys erect128 around themselves like a tent in the back yard under the scary stars. Billy, who used to be heavy like his wall-eyed, doomed129 mother, has become weedy like his father, though taller. His hair, a curly black like neither of his parents', has thinned back from his brow even more decidedly than Nelson's straight hair, its convict cut. Billy has a bald spot at the back of his head the size of a yarmulke. There was always something about Billy that kept people from taking him absolutely seriously, and that light something has become Jewish, quick-tongued and self-mocking and hypochondriac, caught from his teachers and colleagues in prosthetic dentistry. Yes, he says, his dad is still alive, filling in on clarinet in so-called Dixieland bands, though being white is a big disadvantage, and making ends meet in various fishy130 ways. Yes, he, Billy, has been married—twice, in fact, once to a nice girl from Newton he met up there in New England and then to one of his assistants in his practice down here. The second marriage broke up the first and then developed its own twinges. She was twelve years younger and he didn't want to go out as much as she did and she got tired of his night sweats and yelling out in his sleep and his moods.
"Moods?" Nelson asks.
"Depressed131, irritable132, could't sleep. Weekends I'd be so beat and bored I'd pray for an emergency to call. Tooth-structure loss I could handle. Wives," he goes on. "They shut down without even knowing they're doing it. The fancy stuff goes and then even the basics are cut back to once a week, then twice a month, and then just holidays and trips abroad. Portugal, Austria, Acapulco—all that way just to get a little nooky from my lawful133 wedded134."
"Well, in my case," Nelson begins, but Billy overrides135 him: "And then when you suggest maybe this marriage isn't working, they act stunned136 and tell their lawyers to go for all they can get, this isn't their idea."
Years of dealing137 with people with their mouths immobilized has made Billy an easy conversational138 partner, needing very little prompting. "Yelling out in your sleep?" Nelson asks.
The waitress, who looks just a little like the sweaty olive-skinned beauty in the Secret Platinum commercial, interrupts with the day's specials. Billy orders bowties with diced139 shrimp140, and Nelson the mushroom ravioli. Both decline wine in favor of water. "Have the sparkling Pellegrino, it's hyper expensive," Billy says. "This is on me, remember." He tells Nelson, "Yeah, awful dreams. In one of them I'm crammed141 into the trunk of a car, my face right up against the jack142, and I can see the car—you know how in dreams you can see things from inside and out both—being slid into a river, like that mother did to those kids in South Carolina years ago. In another dream I'm in one place and my house is burning in another, and I can't get to it, even though I can see the flames burning through the floor right at my feet." He pauses. "So—what do you think?"
So—this is why he's asked Nelson to lunch, to get free therapy. It wasn't just those good old days tenting out in the back yard. Nelson grudges143 being a wise man outside the treatment center. He says, "We don't do dreams much in therapy any more. There's no time. The insurance companies want fast action—in because of some crisis, 'Here, take these pills,' out. The second dream, though, has an obvious reference. The night I was staying over at your apartment with your mother and puppy and our house burned down in Penn Villas144 a mile away."
Billy puffs145 his lips out suspiciously, and his eyes pop a little, too. "When was that? How old were we?"
"Twelve, maybe you were thirteen. Are you serious, you've forgotten it?"
"Well, when you mention it, it kind of comes back, but as a news item mostly. Listen, Nelson. Forget the dreams. I have attacks in the middle of the day. I break out in a sweat like I'm on a treadmill146, I can feel my heart doing double time. I think about death, about being sealed in a little lead box and the whole universe going on, rotating, exploding, whatever the hell all it does, on and on and eventually pooping out while I'm still in there, totally forgotten. I'm going to die, I can't get it out of my head. You have to wear these latex gloves now and I have the fantasy a little drop of blood is going to seep147 through from some gay guy's gums and give me AIDS. All it takes is one little drop from a micro-abrasion. It's taking the pleasure out of doing implants."
Nelson has to laugh, his old friend is so self-obsessed, so solemn in his mental misery148. Does he want his fingernails, his nostril-hairs, to last forever? "By our age, Billy, we should have come to terms with this stuff."
"Have you?"
"I think so. It's like a nap, only you don't wake up and have to find your shoes." He is being hard-hearted; there is agony here, even if Billy is a comical old friend. Not only are his lips fat, his nose has gotten fat; it sits there in the middle of his face like something added, its flesh faintly off-color. Nelson advises, more compassionately149, "Believe in God and the afterlife if that would help. There's some evidence—people who've gone through an NDE are absolutely convinced and can hardly wait to get back to the other side."
"God," Billy sneers150. "How can you believe in God after the Holocaust151? What did God do to help my mother? They cut off her tits and she still died."
Nelson remembers Mrs. Fosnacht, her helpless outward-turned eye, her wide-open look and big friendly untidy body with a slip usually showing and shoes that bulged152 at the sides as if they hurt. She had been nice; she had thought Nelson was a good influence on Billy. "Anxiety disorders," he offers, "level off, usually. The human organism gets tired of sustaining them and finds a distraction153."
"Nellie, I can't do tunnels. I'm not that crazy about bridges, either, especially the Running Horse, the way it arches up. But how can I go to conferences in New York if I can't do a tunnel? I have to go all the way up to Fort Lee and sweat it out on the George Washington."
"You're lucky," Nelson tells him. "There aren't any tunnels around Brewer."
"No, but there are underpasses. I have to force myself to drive through that one at Eisenhower and Seventh. I have zero tolerance154 for being enclosed. Even here, you notice, I had to get the chair nearer the exit. Airplanes—I haven't been on one since Moira and I split up. They're tin tunnels that go five miles high."
"How did you handle these fears," Nelson asks, "when you were married?"
Billy lifts his hands, superclean and with wrinkled tips from being so much in latex gloves, to let the waitress put his mound155 of bowties and diced shrimp in front of him. "Shoshana," he answers, "was kind of jittery156 herself, and I was the stabilizer. With Moira, like I said, we flew all these places to get her to put out, and I would take a couple of stiff belts in the airport lounge."
The waitress sets down Nelson's hot ravioli, the steam fragrant157 of mushrooms, of secretive gray-black fungoid growth, of damp earth, of greenhouses.
Billy talks on: "Maybe I was too young in my married period to think I was really going to die. I mean really, totally—zip—zero. You will be nada. I can't eat." He puts his fork down.
Nelson picks up his own fork, saying, "It's a concept the mind isn't constructed to accept. So stop trying to force it to. Come on, eat. Enjoy. Have I told you, Billy, I've discovered I have a sister? No, I'm not kidding."
Christmas for Nelson feels least phony at the Center. These unsettled psyches158 and unwashed bodies, burdens to society and to their families, who in many cases have abandoned them to a life of shelters and halfway159 houses, respond to the dim old tale—the homeless couple tainted160 by a mysterious pregnancy161, the child born amid straw and dung, the secret splendor162 sensed by shepherds and donkeys and oxen standing163 mute in their stalls. Glenn, he of the blue eyelids164 and glittering nostril-stud, can play the piano, a skill left over from a closeted adolescence165; he extracts the sturdy standard carols from the out-of-tune upright's keyboard while obese166 Shirley displays a small silvery voice and Dr. Howard Wu a brassy, enthusiastic baritone. The doctor's joining in, with Esther Bloom a conspicuous167 good sport beside him, singing the Christian words, emboldens168 the clients: the substance-dependent and delusional169, the phobic and borderline, Rosa with her new friend the compulsive nail-biter, whose name is Josephine Foote, and Jim the lusty, swag-bellied addict170, who belts out every first line from memory, but then his brain lets go. Nelson is pleased to see Michael DiLorenzo here, letting his cool be thawed171, sharing a song sheet with little black Bethleen, a bipolar. The boy's lips move but his ale-dark eyes beneath their handsome brows are elsewhere, muddled172 and shuttling out of rhythm; he has not shaved this morning, which Nelson takes as a good sign, that his mother's nagging173 is letting up. All in their ragged174 fashion get with it, taking comfort in the organized noise, the approach to melodic175 unison176, the illusion of a happy family here before the tree crammed with artifacts produced in Andrea's art sessions. There are cookies and cake and ice cream after the sing, and little presents from the staff, all bought at Discount Office Supplies—phallic four-color ballpoint pens for the men and vaginal pocket diaries for the women. In turn there filters up from the clients to this and that staff member shy tokens, enigmatic thanks for care given. Nelson receives from Josephine an intricate collage177, mounted on a lacquered black board, of smiling faces cut from magazine advertisements and arranged, bodiless, as thick as flowers in a bouquet178. Or is it more of a snowflake scissored together of smiles? Dr. Wu receives a pagoda180 made of matchsticks, and a lumpy arch of colored clays which Jim explains is a rainbow, pointing to the "pot" at one end. Everyone, onlooking181, laughs. The basement floods with the warm faith that the world beyond these old elementary-school walls is friendly, remembers them, wants them to be well and to rejoice.
This is Christmas Eve, a Friday. Next day, Christmas at Mom and Ronnie's seems perfunctory. Nelson drives over to Mt. Judge in the morning, retrieving182 the Corolla from the curb183 on Almond Street, where it sits parked for days. The 7-Eleven is open, even as children are opening the presents brought by an omniscient184, omnipresent Santa Claus. Weiser Square and the city park are deserted but for a blowing plastic bag and a vagrant185 stooped pedestrian studying his shadow on this wanly186 sunny holy day. The mall before the viaduct is a dead-empty lake of striped asphalt. GREEN MILE TOY II ANNA KING GALAX QUEST.
Mom is hard to give to and always was. He used to give her candy, knowing she'd right away let him share it. As he got older his mind had to keep darting187 away from dainty things, underwear and stockings for her legs that he knew she was proud of. In his childhood they were held up with garters attached to a girdle and had darker widths at the top that were stirring to glimpse. Pantyhose on the other hand had that darker patch in the crotch, shaped like a big lima bean. Once in his teens he gave her some L'eggs and even they, pulled filmy from their egg-shaped containers, made him blush. This year he is strapped—eighty-five a week for his room, three sixty a month to Pru as child support, extras like the mini-fridge he bought to keep his milk from going sour don't leave much from a weekly salary hardly four C's after everybody's tax bite—so he settles on a dozen Top-Flites for Ronnie, even though Dad always said he had a sledge-hammer swing, and for Mom a Better Your Bridge computer program, imagining her up there using the machine in the little room that used to be Mom-mom Springer's sewing room. But Ronnie says, here in this living room where everything has been pushed around to make room for the Christmas tree, that he doesn't want to risk overloading188 his hardware and crashing the whole memory with all his financial records in it, back to the Seventies.
To ease this rejection189, Mom says, "Honestly, Nelson, I doubt if I could use the program, it looks too complicated, I have trouble following even what Doris explains to me, so patiently every time."
"All right, I'll take it back," he snaps, "and get you something else. How about a sexy nightie?" To him she has given flannel190 pajamas191 and a cable-knit maroon192 sweater, as if to keep him warm away from her presence.
Ronnie has come up with a strange gift, some kind of a needle:
The Art of Happiness, by the Dalai Lama and an American doctor. Nelson is startled because, in unwrapping, the saintly Asian on the jacket at first peek193 suggests his late father, not so much physically194 as in the aura of sly alertness, a tentative tricky195 lovable something in the guarded smile. Ron explains, in his insurance-selling voice, "I thought since you disdain196 the Christian religion maybe something along other lines would appeal to you. It's very important, Nelson, to have a spiritual outlet61 in our lives. There's a tremendous, worldwide upwelling of spirituality to greet the new millennium."
He sounds like he's quoting somebody. Nelson checks the book for any mark to indicate it had been remaindered, and sees none. Ronnie paid full price for this odd gift. "The Dalai Lama," Nelson says. How kindly197 the tentative, watchful198 face, in its tinted199 square glasses, smiles out at him: a father he might have had. "Thanks, Ron," he says. "I'll look into it during my lonely nights." Maybe it's a peace offering but there's no need; after that phone conversation after the Thanksgiving blow-up Nelson feels right with Ron, as right as he'll ever get. Ron is just one more or less well-meaning American bozo, balling Mom or not. Once the testosterone goes, you're left with a limp and a spiritual outlet.
He wants to get out of the house before Ron Junior and Margie and the three kids arrive for the midday feast. He's feasted enough with these people for one year. Alex is staying in Virginia with his broken family but Georgie is coming over from New York on the Bieber bus. Ron and Mom tell Nelson again he would be more than welcome to stay, they'll set another place, but after Thanksgiving he knows that wherever he's at home it's not with his stepbrothers.
At the door, his mother says, "Oh, I nearly forgot. Some woman called early this morning. That Esther who runs your clinic. I said to her, didn't she know this was Christmas morning? She said she did, but she'd like you to call her nevertheless. She was quite short with me; these Jews are so touchy200."
"I can't imagine why. I'll call her from my place. Thanks, Mom. Merry Christmas. My love to all those other Harrisons." He kisses her little dry cheek and thinks how she seems to be shrivelling. Osteoporosis, like they keep advertising on television. Everything leaches201 our bones. The neighbor couple are out in the side yard with their boy and his new, red-runnered sled, though there's not a flake179 of snow on the grass. The sun makes all the decorations on the way back to Brewer, all the lights and tinsel and the plastic Santa Clauses and red-nosed reindeer202, look washed-out, leached83 of joy. He stops at the 7-Eleven and picks up a frozen shepherd's pie and coffee in a seasonal203 plastic cup with a holly-leaf-and-berry pattern. They make pretty good coffee, actually. Drawing on his slender social-work Spanish, he says "Feliz Navidad" to the frizzy-haired girl behind the counter. She responds with a smile, dazzling in her dusky face, and a ribbon of responding Spanish of which Nelson only understands "Muchath graciath, theňor, "the "s"s thickened by her tongue-stud.
Back in his room, Nelson sips204 the coffee and dials Esther's home number. He gets the husband—a mellifluous205, condescending206, lawyerly voice. He is rich; Esther doesn't need the money; she runs
the Center because she loves mankind. When she comes on she sounds subdued207, even shaky. "Nelson, I thought you should know, since you worked with the DiLorenzo boy."
"Know what?" But the flutter of premonition has already risen in his chest. He just saw Michael yesterday, at the fringe of the crowd around the piano, trying to join in. He had wished him a happy holiday. The boy had responded, "O.K., sir," and looked away. He had neglected to shave. But he had begun to participate in groups, overcoming his distaste for the other clients. He wanted to get better.
"He committed suicide. In the night. They found him this morning. DiLorenzo himself called the Center. He was in shock but talked about suing us and Birkits."
That inner space where he had once felt a knife sliding as he tried to empathize with Michael turns more slippery; Nelson feels he is reaching down to bring something back but his hands are soapy and he cannot bring it back, it sinks. You will be nada. "Oh my God," he tells Esther. "No. How did he do it?"
"With a plastic suit-bag. Tied around his neck with a necktie. Sending his parents some kind of message, you could theorize. 'You want dry-cleaning, here's dry-cleaning.'"
"We lost him. I feel I lost him."
"Nelson, don't be egotistical. We do our best, but we can't do it all. I just wanted you to hear about Michael before it's in the Sunday papers. Everybody uses Perfect; it'll be news." She is brave and crisp but her Center has taken a blow, a black mark.
"How serious do you think the father was about suing?"
"Who knows? The man is a doer, he needs to act."
"He kept an appointment with us the day of the hurricane. He trusted us. I should have spotted208 something, I did drop a note to Howie about the meds. The Trilafon wasn't quieting the voices."
"Don't do this to yourself, Nelson. It is not your fault."
That's what they all say. That's what he said to them. But when she hangs up the boy is still dead. Sealed under black glass, gliding209 feet first to nowhere. Nelson pictures Mrs. DiLorenzo lying in a darkened room, the daughters flying in from their disrupted Christmases, the girlishly handsome young face smeared210 on the inside of an adhesive211 bubble like an astronaut's helmet. The strength it must take not to rip the smothering213 plastic with your fingernails, the furious determination to smother212 the voices and silence their obscenities.
He feels too sick, too sunk, to eat. He needs to call somebody, but Annabelle is in Las Vegas and Pru is in Ohio and should be allowed to have her Christmas with their children and her family. Mom is entertaining her born-again step-children by now. Celebration has stifled214 all but a little of the traffic noise that usually permeates215 the city, though out on Eisenhower Avenue a few scoffers and loners roar by. The end of this very short day has begun to darken his windows before he has the heart to microwave the shepherd's pie and turn on the Oahu Bowl. Hawaii beats Oregon, twenty-three to seventeen, and on the six-o'clock news Jerry Seinfeld has married at last, the Hubble Space Telescope is back in working order, and some Sikhs have hijacked216 an Indian plane for no clear reason and are jerking it all around the sky. Michael DiLorenzo is not mentioned. He is strictly217 local news.
"Hi. You're back. How was Las Vegas?"
"Nelson, it was a blast. It's the future or something. My girlfriend and her husband talked me into gambling218 and I won two hundred dollars one night and lost it the next, of course."
"I bet you didn't call my aunt Mim."
"Well—surprise, surprise—I did, and she couldn't have been sweeter, or funnier. She remembered my mother dimly, from some encounter in a bar that used to be down on Running Horse Street, and had a lot to say about my father. Our father."
"Yeah? What?"
"Oh, what a caring older brother he was, and how hard he worked to perfect his basketball skills. I mean, it didn't just come to him naturally. And how supportive and non-judgmental he always was of her, even after she became a hooker."
"She said that?"
"Sure, why not? She said my mother was never a real hooker, because she wasn't organized in her approach. She even got us into O, at the Cirque du Soleil, if that's how you pronounce it. It beats anything you could ever see in New York—underwater ballet and bungee jumpers and a boat that rises right up into the air! I was absolutely riveted219."
"Well," he complains, "while you were having such a great time, I ate Christmas dinner alone and had a young client over at the Center commit suicide."
"Oh, Nelson, no! How terrible! Was he one of yours?"
"We don't divide them up that way, but I had counselled him. I thought he was getting better—more engaged, and reporting no auditory hallucinations. Shows how little I know."
"Well, you shouldn't blame yourself," Annabelle went on in her practical, kind, slightly out-of-focus voice. "We're caregivers, not miracle workers. Just before I went away Mr. Potteiger died. He was eighty-six and terribly frail220, with hardly any use of his legs, but such a sharp, frisky221 mind. He used to flirt222! One morning I showed up at his rooms, he was in elderly housing over toward Oriole, and a little Post-it note on the door said he'd passed away. Just those words. 'Passed Away.'"
"It's not exactly the same," Nelson begins to explain, but she cuts him short.
"How's your lovely family? Did they arrive?"
"Yeah, sort of."
"Sort of?"
"Judy didn't come. She wanted to stay with her boyfriend in his apartment, the roommate is off for the holidays skiing in Colorado, and then go with him, the boyfriend, to this big millennial223 blast in formal clothes in some fancy home the boyfriend knows the son of up in Silver Lake, old rubber money. The guy sounds like a real sponge."
"I knew you'd say 'sponge'!"
"She and Pru had a big fight about it and finally Pru gave up. After all the kid will be twenty next month, and she didn't ask to go to Akron, she's just trying to make the best of the situation her messed-up parents handed her. She drove all the way herself, Pru, just with Roy; she was beat when she arrived, about nine o'clock Monday night, they had kept stopping at what used to be Howard Johnson'ses." It makes him weary just to think about his aging, uncontrollable family.
"Where are they staying?"
"What's with all these questions? At Mom's. It's too small and crummy here, and the morning traffic out on Eisenhower shakes the place." He does not tell her that last night, Tuesday night, he went over after work for a dinner Pru had made in Mom's kitchen and stayed the night in his old room at the back of the house, while Pru took Judy's old room in front and Roy the little room with the computer, on a cot. They all just fell into place, except that he wanted to be in bed with Pru, or at least see her in her underwear, and had tossed and turned. There were too many people in his head, like that Christmas plaque224 Jo Foote had made him. Among other things he was afraid if he fell asleep he would see that man practicing chip shots in the back yard again.
"That's sad, Nelson," his sister was saying. "Roy at least should be over with you."
"Yeah, but I have to work, the Center is shorthanded this week, the suicide has driven the clients crazier. And Roy and Ronnie get along oddly great. They talk about megabytes and RAMs225 and sit up there at the computer all day, cruising the Internet for God knows what. Filth226, probably. Last night Ron took him to a high-school basketball game. I guess there's this holiday tournament on in the county, a big deal, girls' and boys' teams both."
"And how do you feel about your daughter's not coming to visit? Are you hurt?"
"Relieved, in a way. She's gotten to be a handful. She's a redhead, like her mother."
"But she needs to see her father."
"Pru told her that, and Judy said if he doesn't care enough about me to come out here why should I go there and miss an event that only comes once every thousand years? She doesn't seem to think it'll happen in Brewer, only in Akron."
"Well," Annabelle says primly227, "it doesn't sound very satisfactory. When am I going to meet Pru, and my dear little nephew?"
"That's what we need to talk about. What are you doing Friday night?"
"That's the—"
"I know. The last of the last."
"I was just going to go to bed and let it all wash over me."
"Yeah, me too, but Pru is as bad as her daughter. She wants to do something. I didn't want you to come to Mom's house ever again, not after Thanksgiving, but maybe we could swing by that evening and pick up Pru and say hello to Roy and go out to a meal and a movie. I don't want to go to any dance or anything."
"You with two women? That's weird4, Nelson."
"No kidding. I agree. But there's this guy I used to play with as a kid, my best friend you could say, now he's a dentist who does Swedish implants, who called me up for lunch the other week and really seems a kind of lost soul. He was married twice but isn't now. Suppose he joined us? His name is Billy Fosnacht."
"It still sounds weird. Two people I never met, and you."
"Listen, do you trust your brother or not? You'll have no problem with Pru, everybody likes her, she used to be beautiful, and Billy's a kind of loser—my father used to call him a goon—but it's not like it's a date, he'll just be along. He makes great money, by the way. You have any better plans? Like with that girlfriend and her husband? Or have they seen enough of you lately?" This is cruel, perhaps.
She doesn't say yes or no. She says, "They say there may be terrorist attacks."
"In Brewer? On what, the pretzel factories?"
"The mayor of Seattle cancelled their celebration today."
"He has the Space Needle to worry about."
"Nelson, I hope you know what you're doing." This is Annabelle's way of agreeing.
"No," he says, feeling cheerful for the first time this terminal week, "I don't, frankly."
"And this is my son, Roy."
Annabelle says in auntly fashion, "What a tall boy! It's wonderful to meet you, Roy."
They are all, including Billy Fosnacht, bunched awkwardly in the living room, crowded in the insufficient228 space between the cut-plush sofa and cobbler's-bench coffee table on one side and the Christmas tree and the Zenith television with its jumbly crown of knickknacks on the other. Pru and Annabelle have shaken hands like two big cats brushing whiskers, and Ronnie and Mom have been excessively friendly to this round-faced girl who first appeared at the door in September. Annabelle is wearing a short red dress with a high collar and a diagonal zipper229 across the bosom230, and dark net stockings on her prominent legs—all a little whorish, Nelson thought when he picked her up in his Corolla on East Muriel Street. Maybe Ronnie sensed something. Pru has found a dove-colored shot-silk dress with a boxy jacket that makes her hips17 look not too wide and sends out zigzags231 of shimmer232; the gray goes from silver to a kind of purple when she moves. She has thickened in the
收听单词发音 |
1
frustration
|
|
| n.挫折，失败，失效，落空 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
harry
|
|
| vt.掠夺，蹂躏，使苦恼 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
brewer
|
|
| n. 啤酒制造者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
weird
|
|
| adj.古怪的，离奇的；怪诞的，神秘而可怕的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
prick
|
|
| v.刺伤，刺痛，刺孔；n.刺伤，刺痛 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
furry
|
|
| adj.毛皮的；似毛皮的；毛皮制的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
belly
|
|
| n.肚子，腹部；(像肚子一样)鼓起的部分，膛 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
determined
|
|
| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
delusion
|
|
| n.谬见，欺骗，幻觉，迷惑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
neediness
|
|
| n.穷困，贫穷 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
skid
|
|
| v.打滑 n.滑向一侧；滑道 ，滑轨 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
spouses
|
|
| n.配偶，夫或妻( spouse的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
opaque
|
|
| adj.不透光的；不反光的，不传导的；晦涩的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
mince
|
|
| n.切碎物；v.切碎，矫揉做作地说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
leech
|
|
| n.水蛭，吸血鬼，榨取他人利益的人；vt.以水蛭吸血；vi.依附于别人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
prospect
|
|
| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
hips
|
|
| abbr.high impact polystyrene 高冲击强度聚苯乙烯，耐冲性聚苯乙烯n.臀部( hip的名词复数 )；[建筑学]屋脊；臀围（尺寸）；臀部…的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
spoke
|
|
| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
milieu
|
|
| n.环境；出身背景；(个人所处的)社会环境 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
intake
|
|
| n.吸入，纳入；进气口，入口 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
nibbled
|
|
| v.啃，一点一点地咬（吃）( nibble的过去式和过去分词 )；啃出（洞），一点一点咬出（洞）；慢慢减少；小口咬 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
guts
|
|
| v.狼吞虎咽，贪婪地吃，飞碟游戏（比赛双方每组5人，相距15码，互相掷接飞碟）；毁坏（建筑物等）的内部( gut的第三人称单数 )；取出…的内脏n.勇气( gut的名词复数 )；内脏；消化道的下段；肠 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
homely
|
|
| adj.家常的，简朴的；不漂亮的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
bugs
|
|
| adj.疯狂的，发疯的n.窃听器( bug的名词复数 )；病菌；虫子；[计算机]（制作软件程序所产生的意料不到的）错误 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
inflict
|
|
| vt.(on)把…强加给，使遭受，使承担 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
vented
|
|
| 表达，发泄（感情，尤指愤怒）( vent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
pious
|
|
| adj.虔诚的；道貌岸然的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
horrified
|
|
| a.(表现出)恐惧的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
sane
|
|
| adj.心智健全的，神志清醒的，明智的，稳健的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
freshmen
|
|
| n.（中学或大学的）一年级学生( freshman的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
judgment
|
|
| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
mattresses
|
|
| 褥垫，床垫( mattress的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
corporate
|
|
| adj.共同的，全体的；公司的，企业的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
input
|
|
| n.输入(物)；投入；vt.把(数据等)输入计算机 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
obnoxious
|
|
| adj.极恼人的，讨人厌的，可憎的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
fabulous
|
|
| adj.极好的；极为巨大的；寓言中的，传说中的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
lighter
|
|
| n.打火机，点火器；驳船；v.用驳船运送；light的比较级 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
ambivalent
|
|
| adj.含糊不定的；(态度等)矛盾的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
drawn
|
|
| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
tug
|
|
| v.用力拖(或拉)；苦干；n.拖；苦干；拖船 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
collaborator
|
|
| n.合作者，协作者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
lore
|
|
| n.传说；学问，经验，知识 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
loom
|
|
| n.织布机，织机；v.隐现，(危险、忧虑等)迫近 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
estranged
|
|
| adj.疏远的，分离的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
embarrassment
|
|
| n.尴尬；使人为难的人(事物)；障碍；窘迫 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
outgrew
|
|
| 长[发展] 得超过（某物）的范围( outgrow的过去式 )； 长[发展]得不能再要（某物）； 长得比…快； 生长速度超过 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
muggy
|
|
| adj.闷热的；adv.（天气）闷热而潮湿地；n.（天气）闷热而潮湿 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
enroll
|
|
| v.招收；登记；入学；参军；成为会员（英)enrol | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
ego
|
|
| n.自我，自己，自尊 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
wispy
|
|
| adj.模糊的；纤细的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
siblings
|
|
| n.兄弟，姐妹( sibling的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
enlist
|
|
| vt.谋取(支持等)，赢得；征募；vi.入伍 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
stewardess
|
|
| n.空中小姐，女乘务员 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
cemeteries
|
|
| n.（非教堂的）墓地，公墓( cemetery的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
commonwealth
|
|
| n.共和国，联邦，共同体 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
quarries
|
|
| n.（采）石场( quarry的名词复数 )；猎物（指鸟，兽等）；方形石；（格窗等的）方形玻璃v.从采石场采得( quarry的第三人称单数 )；从（书本等中）努力发掘（资料等）；在采石场采石 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
invader
|
|
| n.侵略者，侵犯者，入侵者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
relentless
|
|
| adj.残酷的，不留情的，无怜悯心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
utterance
|
|
| n.用言语表达，话语，言语 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
logic
|
|
| n.逻辑(学)；逻辑性 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
outlet
|
|
| n.出口/路；销路；批发商店；通风口；发泄 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
outlets
|
|
| n.出口( outlet的名词复数 )；经销店；插座；廉价经销店 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
limestone
|
|
| n.石灰石 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
bleak
|
|
| adj.(天气)阴冷的；凄凉的；暗淡的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
resonant
|
|
| adj.(声音)洪亮的，共鸣的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
attentive
|
|
| adj.注意的，专心的；关心(别人)的，殷勤的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
nag
|
|
| v.(对…)不停地唠叨；n.爱唠叨的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
genes
|
|
| n.基因( gene的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
counteract
|
|
| vt.对…起反作用，对抗，抵消 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
frankly
|
|
| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
transistors
|
|
| 晶体管( transistor的名词复数 )； 晶体管收音机，半导体收音机 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
rattles
|
|
| （使）发出格格的响声， （使）作嘎嘎声( rattle的第三人称单数 )； 喋喋不休地说话； 迅速而嘎嘎作响地移动，堕下或走动； 使紧张，使恐惧 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
drenched
|
|
| adj.湿透的；充满的v.使湿透( drench的过去式和过去分词 )；在某人（某物）上大量使用（某液体） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
supervision
|
|
| n.监督，管理 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
blues
|
|
| n.抑郁，沮丧；布鲁斯音乐 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
overloaded
|
|
| a.超载的，超负荷的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
deserted
|
|
| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
doorways
|
|
| n.门口，门道( doorway的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
fervor
|
|
| n.热诚；热心；炽热 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
strands
|
|
| n.（线、绳、金属线、毛发等的）股( strand的名词复数 )；缕；海洋、湖或河的)岸；（观点、计划、故事等的）部份v.使滞留，使搁浅( strand的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
81
gaudy
|
|
| adj.华而不实的；俗丽的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
82
bleached
|
|
| 漂白的，晒白的，颜色变浅的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
83
leached
|
|
| v.（将化学品、矿物质等）过滤( leach的过去式和过去分词 )；（液体）过滤，滤去 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
84
photocopy
|
|
| n.影印本；v.影印 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
85
acting
|
|
| n.演戏，行为，假装；adj.代理的，临时的，演出用的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
86
unintelligibly
|
|
| 难以理解地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
87
flares
|
|
| n.喇叭裤v.（使）闪耀( flare的第三人称单数 )；（使）（船舷）外倾；（使）鼻孔张大；（使）（衣裙、酒杯等）呈喇叭形展开 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
88
genie
|
|
| n.妖怪，神怪 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
89
genies
|
|
| n.（阿拉伯神话故事中的）神怪，妖怪( genie的名词复数 )；（形容将对人们的生活造成永久性的、尤指负面影响的事件已经发生）妖怪已经放出魔瓶了 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
90
arrogantly
|
|
| adv.傲慢地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
91
maturity
|
|
| n.成熟；完成；(支票、债券等)到期 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
92
advertising
|
|
| n.广告业；广告活动 a.广告的；广告业务的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
93
platinum
|
|
| n.白金 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
94
prescription
|
|
| n.处方，开药；指示，规定 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
95
utterly
|
|
| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
96
jigs
|
|
| n.快步舞（曲）极快地( jig的名词复数 )；夹具v.（使）上下急动( jig的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
97
torrents
|
|
| n.倾注；奔流( torrent的名词复数 )；急流；爆发；连续不断 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
98
climax
|
|
| n.顶点；高潮；v.(使)达到顶点 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
99
analyze
|
|
| vt.分析，解析 (=analyse) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
100
pouty
|
|
| adj.撅嘴的，容易生气的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
101
giggling
|
|
| v.咯咯地笑( giggle的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
102
millennium
|
|
| n.一千年，千禧年；太平盛世 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
103
agitated
|
|
| adj.被鼓动的，不安的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
104
renewal
|
|
| adj.(契约)延期，续订，更新，复活，重来 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
105
dread
|
|
| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
106
peculiar
|
|
| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
107
quaint
|
|
| adj.古雅的，离奇有趣的，奇怪的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
108
bleakness
|
|
| adj. 萧瑟的, 严寒的, 阴郁的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
109
anticipation
|
|
| n.预期，预料，期望 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
110
flattened
|
|
| [医]（水）平扁的，弄平的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
111
glimmering
|
|
| n.微光，隐约的一瞥adj.薄弱地发光的v.发闪光，发微光( glimmer的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
112
graphic
|
|
| adj.生动的，形象的，绘画的，文字的，图表的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
113
lamely
|
|
| 一瘸一拐地，不完全地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
114
parlor
|
|
| n.店铺，营业室；会客室，客厅 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
115
maiden
|
|
| n.少女，处女；adj.未婚的，纯洁的，无经验的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
116
sneak
|
|
| vt.潜行(隐藏,填石缝)；偷偷摸摸做；n.潜行；adj.暗中进行 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
117
miserable
|
|
| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
118
trek
|
|
| vi.作长途艰辛的旅行；n.长途艰苦的旅行 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
119
Christian
|
|
| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
120
implants
|
|
| n.（植入身体中的）移植物( implant的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
121
implant
|
|
| vt.注入，植入，灌输 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
122
overlap
|
|
| v.重叠，与…交叠；n.重叠 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
123
arteries
|
|
| n.动脉( artery的名词复数 )；干线，要道 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
124
winces
|
|
| 避开，畏缩( wince的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
125
disparage
|
|
| v.贬抑，轻蔑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
126
conspiracy
|
|
| n.阴谋，密谋，共谋 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
127
triumphant
|
|
| adj.胜利的，成功的；狂欢的，喜悦的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
128
erect
|
|
| n./v.树立，建立，使竖立；adj.直立的，垂直的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
129
doomed
|
|
| 命定的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
130
fishy
|
|
| adj. 值得怀疑的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
131
depressed
|
|
| adj.沮丧的，抑郁的，不景气的，萧条的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
132
irritable
|
|
| adj.急躁的；过敏的；易怒的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
133
lawful
|
|
| adj.法律许可的，守法的，合法的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
134
wedded
|
|
| adj.正式结婚的；渴望…的，执著于…的v.嫁，娶，（与…）结婚( wed的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
135
overrides
|
|
| 越控( override的第三人称单数 )； （以权力）否决； 优先于； 比…更重要 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
136
stunned
|
|
| adj. 震惊的，惊讶的 动词stun的过去式和过去分词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
137
dealing
|
|
| n.经商方法，待人态度 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
138
conversational
|
|
| adj.对话的，会话的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
139
diced
|
|
| v.将…切成小方块，切成丁( dice的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
140
shrimp
|
|
| n.虾，小虾；矮小的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
141
crammed
|
|
| adj.塞满的，挤满的；大口地吃；快速贪婪地吃v.把…塞满；填入；临时抱佛脚( cram的过去式) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
142
jack
|
|
| n.插座，千斤顶，男人；v.抬起，提醒，扛举；n.（Jake）杰克 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
143
grudges
|
|
| 不满，怨恨，妒忌( grudge的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
144
villas
|
|
| 别墅，公馆( villa的名词复数 )； （城郊）住宅 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
145
puffs
|
|
| n.吸( puff的名词复数 )；（烟斗或香烟的）一吸；一缕（烟、蒸汽等）；（呼吸或风的）呼v.使喷出( puff的第三人称单数 )；喷着汽（或烟）移动；吹嘘；吹捧 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
146
treadmill
|
|
| n.踏车；单调的工作 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
147
seep
|
|
| v.渗出，渗漏；n.渗漏，小泉，水（油）坑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
148
misery
|
|
| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
149
compassionately
|
|
| adv.表示怜悯地，有同情心地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
150
sneers
|
|
| 讥笑的表情（言语）( sneer的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
151
holocaust
|
|
| n.大破坏；大屠杀 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
152
bulged
|
|
| 凸出( bulge的过去式和过去分词 )； 充满； 塞满（某物） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
153
distraction
|
|
| n.精神涣散，精神不集中，消遣，娱乐 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
154
tolerance
|
|
| n.宽容；容忍，忍受；耐药力；公差 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
155
mound
|
|
| n.土墩，堤，小山；v.筑堤，用土堆防卫 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
156
jittery
|
|
| adj. 神经过敏的, 战战兢兢的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
157
fragrant
|
|
| adj.芬香的，馥郁的，愉快的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
158
psyches
|
|
| n.灵魂，心灵( psyche的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
159
halfway
|
|
| adj.中途的，不彻底的，部分的；adv.半路地，在中途，在半途 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
160
tainted
|
|
| adj.腐坏的；污染的；沾污的；感染的v.使变质( taint的过去式和过去分词 )；使污染；败坏；被污染，腐坏，败坏 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
161
pregnancy
|
|
| n.怀孕，怀孕期 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
162
splendor
|
|
| n.光彩；壮丽，华丽；显赫，辉煌 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
163
standing
|
|
| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
164
eyelids
|
|
| n.眼睑( eyelid的名词复数 )；眼睛也不眨一下；不露声色；面不改色 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
165
adolescence
|
|
| n.青春期，青少年 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
166
obese
|
|
| adj.过度肥胖的，肥大的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
167
conspicuous
|
|
| adj.明眼的，惹人注目的；炫耀的，摆阔气的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
168
emboldens
|
|
| v.鼓励，使有胆量( embolden的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
169
delusional
|
|
| 妄想的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
170
addict
|
|
| v.使沉溺；使上瘾；n.沉溺于不良嗜好的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
171
thawed
|
|
| 解冻 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
172
muddled
|
|
| adj.混乱的；糊涂的；头脑昏昏然的v.弄乱，弄糟( muddle的过去式)；使糊涂；对付，混日子 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
173
nagging
|
|
| adj.唠叨的，挑剔的；使人不得安宁的v.不断地挑剔或批评（某人）( nag的现在分词 )；不断地烦扰或伤害（某人）；无休止地抱怨；不断指责 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
174
ragged
|
|
| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
175
melodic
|
|
| adj.有旋律的，调子美妙的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
176
unison
|
|
| n.步调一致，行动一致 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
177
collage
|
|
| n.拼贴画；v.拼贴；把……创作成拼贴画 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
178
bouquet
|
|
| n.花束，酒香 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
179
flake
|
|
| v.使成薄片；雪片般落下；n.薄片 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
180
pagoda
|
|
| n.宝塔（尤指印度和远东的多层宝塔），（印度教或佛教的）塔式庙宇 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
181
onlooking
|
|
| n.目击，旁观adj.旁观的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
|
182
retrieving
|
|
| n.检索（过程），取还v.取回( retrieve的现在分词 )；恢复；寻回；检索（储存的信息） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
183
curb
|
|
| n.场外证券市场，场外交易；vt.制止，抑制 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
184
omniscient
|
|
| adj.无所不知的；博识的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
185
vagrant
|
|
| n.流浪者，游民；adj.流浪的，漂泊不定的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
186
wanly
|
|
| adv.虚弱地；苍白地，无血色地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
187
darting
|
|
| v.投掷，投射( dart的现在分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
188
overloading
|
|
| 过载，超载，过负载 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
189
rejection
|
|
| n.拒绝，被拒，抛弃，被弃 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
190
flannel
|
|
| n.法兰绒；法兰绒衣服 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
191
pajamas
|
|
| n.睡衣裤 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
192
maroon
|
|
| v.困住，使（人）处于孤独无助之境；n.逃亡黑奴；孤立的人；酱紫色，褐红色；adj.酱紫色的，褐红色的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
193
peek
|
|
| vi.偷看，窥视；n.偷偷的一看，一瞥 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
194
physically
|
|
| adj.物质上，体格上，身体上，按自然规律 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
195
tricky
|
|
| adj.狡猾的，奸诈的；(工作等)棘手的，微妙的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
196
disdain
|
|
| n.鄙视，轻视；v.轻视，鄙视，不屑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
197
kindly
|
|
| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
198
watchful
|
|
| adj.注意的，警惕的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
199
tinted
|
|
| adj. 带色彩的 动词tint的过去式和过去分词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
200
touchy
|
|
| adj.易怒的；棘手的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
201
leaches
|
|
| n.（将化学品、矿物质等）过滤( leach的名词复数 )；（液体）过滤，滤去 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
202
reindeer
|
|
| n.驯鹿 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
203
seasonal
|
|
| adj.季节的，季节性的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
204
sips
|
|
| n.小口喝，一小口的量( sip的名词复数 )v.小口喝，呷，抿( sip的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
205
mellifluous
|
|
| adj.（音乐等）柔美流畅的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
206
condescending
|
|
| adj.谦逊的,故意屈尊的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
207
subdued
|
|
| adj. 屈服的，柔和的，减弱的 动词subdue的过去式和过去分词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
208
spotted
|
|
| adj.有斑点的，斑纹的，弄污了的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
209
gliding
|
|
| v. 滑翔 adj. 滑动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
210
smeared
|
|
| 弄脏； 玷污； 涂抹； 擦上 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
211
adhesive
|
|
| n.粘合剂；adj.可粘着的，粘性的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
212
smother
|
|
| vt./vi.使窒息；抑制；闷死；n.浓烟；窒息 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
213
smothering
|
|
| （使）窒息， （使）透不过气( smother的现在分词 )； 覆盖； 忍住； 抑制 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
214
stifled
|
|
| （使）窒息， （使）窒闷( stifle的过去式和过去分词 )； 镇压，遏制； 堵 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
215
permeates
|
|
| 弥漫( permeate的第三人称单数 )； 遍布； 渗入； 渗透 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
216
hijacked
|
|
| 劫持( hijack的过去式和过去分词 )； 绑架； 拦路抢劫； 操纵（会议等，以推销自己的意图） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
217
strictly
|
|
| adv.严厉地，严格地；严密地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
218
gambling
|
|
| n.赌博；投机 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
219
riveted
|
|
| 铆接( rivet的过去式和过去分词 )； 把…固定住； 吸引； 引起某人的注意 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
220
frail
|
|
| adj.身体虚弱的；易损坏的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
221
frisky
|
|
| adj.活泼的，欢闹的；n.活泼，闹着玩；adv.活泼地，闹着玩地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
222
flirt
|
|
| v.调情，挑逗，调戏；n.调情者，卖俏者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
223
millennial
|
|
| 一千年的，千福年的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
224
plaque
|
|
| n.饰板，匾，(医)血小板 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
225
rams
|
|
| n.公羊( ram的名词复数 )；(R-)白羊（星）座；夯；攻城槌v.夯实（土等）( ram的第三人称单数 )；猛撞；猛压；反复灌输 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
226
filth
|
|
| n.肮脏，污物，污秽；淫猥 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
227
primly
|
|
| adv.循规蹈矩地，整洁地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
228
insufficient
|
|
| adj.(for，of)不足的，不够的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
229
zipper
|
|
| n.拉链；v.拉上拉链 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
230
bosom
|
|
| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
231
zigzags
|
|
| n.锯齿形的线条、小径等( zigzag的名词复数 )v.弯弯曲曲地走路，曲折地前进( zigzag的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
232
shimmer
|
|
| v./n.发微光，发闪光；微光 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |