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“
Well
…
”
She
still
sounded
grave
,
then
her
voice
became
lighter
.
“
I
suppose
it
’
s
all
right
.
It
’
s
just
that
—
”
Beth
smiled
.
“
I
won
’
t
get
pregnant
,
”
she
said
.
At
noon
she
put
the
rest
of
the
eggs
in
a
pot
to
boil
and
turned
on
the
hi
-
fi
.
She
had
never
really
listened
to
music
before
,
but
she
listened
now
.
She
danced
a
few
steps
in
the
middle
of
the
living
room
,
waiting
for
the
eggs
.
She
would
not
let
herself
get
sick
.
She
would
eat
frequently
and
drink
one
beer
—
or
one
glass
of
wine
—
every
hour
.
She
had
made
love
the
night
before
,
and
now
it
was
time
to
learn
about
being
drunk
.
She
was
alone
,
and
she
liked
it
.
It
was
the
way
she
had
learned
everything
important
in
her
life
.
At
four
in
the
afternoon
she
walked
into
Larry
’
s
Package
Store
,
a
block
from
the
apartment
,
and
bought
a
fifth
of
Ripple
.
When
the
man
was
putting
it
in
the
bag
,
she
said
,
“
Do
you
have
a
wine
like
Ripple
that
’
s
not
so
sweet
?
”
“
These
soda
-
pop
wines
are
all
the
same
,
”
the
man
said
.
“
What
about
burgundy
?
”
Sometimes
Mrs
.
Wheatley
ordered
burgundy
with
her
dinner
when
they
ate
out
.
“
I
’
ve
got
Gallo
,
Italian
Swiss
Colony
,
Paul
Masson
…
”
“
Paul
Masson
,
”
Beth
said
.
“
Two
bottles
.
”
That
night
at
eleven
she
was
able
to
get
undressed
by
being
careful
.
She
had
found
a
pair
of
pajamas
earlier
and
she
managed
to
get
them
on
and
to
pile
her
clothes
on
a
chair
before
getting
into
bed
and
passing
out
.
No
one
had
come
back
by
morning
.
She
made
scrambled
eggs
and
ate
them
with
two
pieces
of
toast
before
having
her
first
glass
of
wine
.
It
was
another
sunny
day
.
In
the
living
room
she
found
Vivaldi
’
s
“
The
Four
Seasons
.
”
She
put
it
on
.
Then
she
began
drinking
in
earnest
.
