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He
watched
her
fumble
the
metal
top
off
the
ice
-
cream
freezer
and
manipulate
the
scoop
,
packing
the
cardboard
pint
chock
-
full
with
"
chocolate
on
top
,
yes
!
"
He
gave
the
money
,
received
the
chill
,
icy
pack
,
and
rubbing
it
across
his
brow
and
cheek
,
laughing
,
thumped
barefootedly
homeward
.
Behind
him
the
lights
of
the
lonely
little
store
blinked
out
and
there
was
only
a
street
light
shimmering
on
the
corner
,
and
the
whole
city
seemed
to
be
going
to
sleep
.
Opening
the
screen
door
,
he
found
Mom
still
ironing
.
She
looked
hot
and
irritated
but
she
smiled
just
the
same
.
"
When
will
Dad
be
home
from
lodge
meeting
?
"
he
asked
.
"
About
eleven
or
eleven
-
thirty
,
"
Mother
replied
.
She
took
the
ice
cream
to
the
kitchen
,
divided
it
.
Giving
him
his
special
portion
of
chocolate
,
she
dished
out
some
for
herself
and
the
rest
was
put
away
,
"
for
Douglas
and
your
father
when
they
come
.
"
They
sat
enjoying
the
ice
cream
,
wrapped
at
the
core
of
the
deep
quiet
summer
night
.
His
mother
and
himself
and
the
night
all
around
their
small
house
on
the
small
street
.
He
licked
each
spoonful
of
ice
cream
thoroughly
before
digging
for
another
,
and
Mom
put
her
ironing
board
away
and
the
hot
iron
in
its
open
case
cooling
,
and
she
sat
in
the
armchair
by
the
phonograph
,
eating
her
dessert
and
saying
,
"
My
land
,
it
was
a
hot
day
today
.
Earth
soaks
up
all
the
heat
and
lets
it
out
at
night
.
It
’
ll
be
soggy
sleeping
.
They
both
sat
listening
to
the
night
,
pressed
down
by
every
window
and
door
and
complete
silence
because
the
radio
needed
a
new
battery
,
and
they
had
played
all
the
Knickerbocker
Quartet
records
and
Al
Jolson
and
Two
Black
Crows
records
to
exhaustion
;
so
Tom
just
sat
on
the
hardwood
floor
and
looked
out
into
the
dark
dark
dark
,
pressing
his
nose
against
the
screen
until
the
flesh
of
its
tip
was
molded
into
small
dark
squares
.
"
I
wonder
where
Doug
is
?
It
’
s
almost
nine
-
thirty
.
"
"
He
’
ll
be
here
,
"
Tom
said
,
knowing
very
well
that
Douglas
would
be
.
He
followed
Mom
out
to
wash
the
dishes
.
Each
sound
,
each
rattle
of
spoon
or
dish
was
amplified
in
the
baked
evening
.
Silently
they
went
to
the
living
room
,
removed
the
couch
cushions
and
,
together
,
yanked
it
open
and
extended
it
down
into
the
double
bed
it
secretly
was
.
Mother
made
the
bed
,
punching
pillows
neatly
to
flump
them
up
for
their
heads
.
Then
,
as
he
was
unbuttoning
his
shirt
,
she
said
,
"
Wait
awhile
,
Tom
.
"
