Social Science

H enry can see her shaking her head like a robin tearing a worm from the ground. She's holding the phone on her hip, collecting her thoughts. The song "Psycho Killer" is playing on the old phono she bought years ago at a yard sale so she could listen to music whi]e she worked in the garage stuffing envelopes. Through the telephone lines, the singer sounds like poultry. "You promised you'd leave town," she finally says into the mouthpiece.

"How do you know I haven't left?"

"Your friend told me."

"Forget it. I didn't say anything."

"Turn off the record. I can hardly hear you."

"I said I hope he buys that house. Maybe then you'11 leave." Her voice is lean and aggressive. He can picture her mannerisms: raking her hand through her long hair, sniBing her fingertips, shifting her weight, cradling the phone between cheek and shoulder. This was how she ran her direct-mail advertising service out of the garage; stuff- ing envelopes, licking stamps, while talking to printers and clients over the phone.

Because the house is on her mailing lists, he still receives mail from her almost every week.

"Why'd you think l agreed to meet this Brinkley character? Because he's a chum of yours? Not in a million. I'm gonna see to it he buys that house. If he needs cash, I'll sell part of the business and I'll give him a loan, cheap. Then maybe you'11 leave."

They hang up without the conversational equivalent of a concluding paragraph that marks a resolution of conflict. Henry turns to his students' papers for solace. He reads one by a Vietnam vet who, writing about his experience as a POW, tells how he was unable to remember during captivity a single detail of his wife's face.

Mrs. Steiner is standing by the F O R S A L E sign. She looks as squat and round as its red letters. A man in madras slacks and green sports coat joins her on the lawn. He is carrying a briefcase. Together they admire the sign.

They enter the house where Henry is sipping coffee in the kitchen. Mrs. Steiner says, "This is Mr. Escrow."

"No, ma'am," the man says, with a chuckle. "I work for the escrow company. My name's Mooney."

"How silly of me."

"Happens all the time, ma'am." The escrow man then reaches his hand out to Henry and says, "And you must be Mr. Brinkley."

"Oh my, no," Mrs. Steiner says, giggling. "Aren't we a pair! This is Henry, my tenant. I would never have imagined anyone confusing Henry with good Mr. Brinkley."

The escrow man sets his briefcase on the table and removes a manila envelope that he hands to Mrs. Steiner, who in turn hands it over to Henry. She says, "You must perform this duty faithfully or not do it at all. Henry, I want you to give this to Mr. Brinkley when he comes here on Sunday."

Henry looks at the escrow man, who shrugs his shoulders and says, "Mr. Brinkley's intrigue, I assure you. This is highly irregular practice for a firm such as ours."

Using a roll of packing tape she pulled from her purse, Mrs. Steiner tapes the envelope to the refrigerator. "So you don't forget," she says. "And so you don't peek and spoil Mr. Brinkley's surprise."