The next night Bobby and Valerie came over. They had recently moved into my apartment building and now lived across the court. Bobby had on his tight knit shirt. Everything always fitted Bobby perfectly, his pants were snug and just the right length, he wore the right shoes and his hair was styled. Valerie also dressed mod but not quite as consciously. People called them the “Barbie Dolls.” Valerie was all right when you got her alone, she was intelligent and very energetic and damned honest. Bobby, too, was more human when he and I were alone, but when a new woman was around he became very dull and obvious. He would direct all his attention and conversation to the woman, as if his very presence was an interesting and marvelous thing, but his conversation became predictable and dull. I wondered how Katherine would handle him.

They sat down. I was in a chair near the window and Valerie sat between Bobby and Katherine on the couch. Bobby began. He bent forward and ignoring Valerie directed his attention to Katherine.

“Do you like Los Angeles?” he asked.

“It’s all right,” answered Katherine.

“Are you going to stay here much longer?” “A while longer.”

“You’re from Texas?”

“Yes.”

“Are your parents from Texas?”

“Yes.”

“Anything good on t.v. out there?”

“It’s about the same.”

“I’ve got an uncle in Texas.”

“Oh.”

“Yes, he lives in Dallas.”

Katherine didn’t answer. Then she said, “Excuse me, I’m going to make a sandwich. Does anybody want anything?”

We said we didn’t. Katherine got up and went into the kitchen. Bobby got up and followed her. You couldn’t quite hear his words, but you could tell that he was asking more questions. Valerie stared at the floor. Katherine and Bobby were in the kitchen a long time. Suddenly Valerie raised her head and began talking to me. She spoke very rapidly and nervously.

“Valerie,” I stopped her, “we needn’t talk, we don’t have to talk.”
She put her head down again.

Then I said, “Hey, you guys have been in there a long time. Are you waxing the floor?”

Bobby laughed and began tapping his foot in rhythm on the floor.

Finally Katherine came out followed by Bobby. She walked over to me and showed me her sandwich: peanut butter on cracked wheat with sliced bananas and sesame seeds.

“It looks good,” I told her.

She sat down and began eating her sandwich. It became quiet. It remained quiet. Then Bobby said, “Well, I think we’d better go. . . .”

They left. After the door closed Katherine looked at me and said, “Don’t think anything, Hank. He was just trying to impress me.”

“He’s done that with every woman I’ve known since I’ve known him.”

The phone rang. It was Bobby. “Hey, man, what have you done to my wife?” “What’s the matter?”

“She just sits here, she’s completely depressed, she won’t talk!”

“I haven’t done anything to your wife.”

“I don’t understand it!”

“Goodnight, Bobby.”

I hung up.

“It was Bobby,” I told Katherine. “His wife is depressed.”

“Really?”

“It seems so.”

“Are you sure you don’t want a sandwich?”

“Can you make me one just like yours?”

“Oh, yes.”

“I’ll take it.”