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he had referred to himself in front of people as a tennis widower, but they were on vacation now, she could spare an hour of tennis for him, couldn’t she?
    The hour was nearly as long as the week for her. Ted had played only a few times in his life. He was like a wild bear on the court. They were next to a mixed doubles game of older players. Ted’s balls kept interrupting their game, he kept forgetting not to cross behind them to get his balls, he was slow in returning theirs, Billy somehow escaped his teenage captor and peered through the fence behind her with his dark eyes, whining for apple juice, they only had Seven-Up, he hated Seven-Up. She chased him back to the sitter, Ted lost a ball over the fence, put a ball in play from the next court. She was humiliated. He was a clod from neighborhood schoolyards, crude. That night, when he pulled at her, she made love to him mechanically, waiting for him to get done.
    The next day, their last, finally, she left Ted and Billy at the pool and wandered down to the bay beach. She sat down on a dock, staring into the oily water. Did they know she was gone? Did they care? She did not care. She could sit there for hours and not miss them. She would call Amy first thing back in the city and play Monday morning, she had lost a week, Ted probably set her back with his clown act. It was very hot. Was this the worst vacation ever? The worst time ever? Rowboats had been set out for guests. She found a dry boat and pushed off. She dipped her oars for a while and then pulled them in and floated. Motorboats would pass and she would be tossed around. She rowed to keep up with the tide, but largely she floated. When was the best time? High school? Having Vicki Cole’s face turn red when Marty Russell asked her out instead of Vicki. Knowing then she was pretty. Where were they now? Was Vicki floating in a rowboat somewhere wondering what happened to her? College was not bad, some of it. The first year in New York was exciting, up and down after that, but all of it, any of it was better than this. It was so boring, and when it was not boring that was only because she was under pressure and fighting with Billy and even the fights were getting boring and Ted was boring and the vacation, a break from the boring, was boring. She could just tumble over the side into the water. Better than sticking your head in an oven. That was not for a hot day like this. Her parents would cry a lot, and chip in for the funeral, which they would see was the best. Billy would be rescued from having her yell at him. Ted would cope beautifully. He would remarry inside of two years, a fat cow from the Bronx, who would cook until he got round like his father and who would make him happy by going down on him more than she ever would.
    When she rowed back to the dock, she saw them standing at the water’s edge, her men. They had a milk bottle attached to a string with bread in it and they were catching little fish in the bottle. They had not realized she was gone.
    “I WENT TO J. Walter today.”
    “You did?”
    “To see some people, ask around.”
    “And?”
    “There’s not much doing.”
    “Of course there’s not. Times are tough. Didn’t I just take a pay cut?”
    “But they said they’d keep me in mind.”
    “Joanna!”
    “I wanted to ask. I didn’t break your balls by asking.”
    “Look, you want to talk about this, then let’s talk. What were you earning when you left? A hundred seventy-five a week? So assuming you get that again, what do you take home? One-thirty, maybe. And how much is a housekeeper?”
    “A hundred.”
    “If we’re lucky. So that’s thirty you’re ahead. And in lunches, say twelve a week, and carfare, five, and snacks, three—so that’s twenty. Now we’re in the black a big total of maybe ten dollars a week from your working. And that has to pay for all your extra clothes so you can work, which means just one sweater or one skirt a month and we’re totally in the