It was a long night of drinking, and when they got back to the house Vicki tugged Waldo aside and jerked her head towards the back porch. He followed her, after glancing at Wanda. She smiled, and Waldo guessed she'd known this would happen.

Waldo sat down on the swing, pulling his jacket closer around him, and he motioned for Vicki to sit down next to him. She wavered for a minute, then almost fell onto the swing. He put his arm around her narrow shoulders.

She'd drunk as much as Waldo had, was twenty years younger and weighed half as much, so he was sure she was feeling it more than he was, and he was feeling plenty.

"What's up, Stick?" he asked.

She shook her head. "Can't say. I never should have gone out with you guys. Of course we had to run into Sal and Nadine. Fucking bitch is pregnant again, too. God, I hate her!"

He squeezed her shoulder. "Stick, you've got to stop hating her just because she's married to Sal. Even if she wasn't around, he's way out of your league. He's ten years older than you are, and-"

"I know all that!" she said, almost ready to cry. "I know all that..." she whispered this time, now crying. He put both his arms around her as her fragile form heaved with sobs.

After a while, she rallied and looked up, her face smudged. "Got to go throw up," she said calmly, them jumped off the porch and ran into the woods.

Waldo sat for a minute, then stood up. He strolled around the side of the house to the front, where he found Wanda, a sleeping bag and ground cover hanging over the railing next to her. She smiled.

"Would you say that I know you too well if I suggested that you might like to sleep down at the beach tonight?"

He shook his head. "How can you know what I want to do before I do?"

"Lucky guess." She came into his arms and they kissed.

roots lodged in our memory

down at the beach