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myself and drank ginger ale and then, after we’d gone to bed, we used to get potted on stingers in the bedroom. Darling, don’t you remember?”
    I shook my head disconsolately. “No, baby, I’m afraid I don’t. Not yet.”
    Selena lay a moment, quite still, holding my hand against her dress. I could feel the strong, healthy pulse of her heart. “All this,” I asked, “was in St. Paul?”
    She nodded.
    “And then a couple of years ago we moved to California?”
    “We didn’t, darling. Not you and I. We stayed in Pittsburg. But the others did.”
    “Why?”
    “Mr. Moffat,” said Selena. “Mr. Moffat’s the head of the California branch of the Clean Living League. He was visiting Mr. Heber and your father fell even more in love with him than with Mr. Heber. Mr. Moffat is even cleaner, you see. So your father sold everything and trailed out here. Fairly soon, he developed a bad heart. I guess all that purity preyed on his organs. A couple of months ago he had an attack of some sort addressing the local chapter. He was supposed to be getting better. Then, suddenly, he died.”
    “And we came out here because of his sickness?”
    Selena shook her head. “No, darling, we came a couple of months ago because we had nowhere else to go.”
    “You mean, Pittsburg was through with us?”
    “With you, dear. You lost your job. We had one hundred and twelve dollars in the bank. Darling, you must remember.”
    I tried very hard. Nothing came. “I’m afraid I don’t,” I said.
    “Oh, dear,” she pushed her hands under her hair to support her head. “Well, baby, I guess that’s all about the Aurora Clean Living League—except Jan, of course.”
    “Jan? Marny talked about him. Who’s Jan?”
    “Nobody knows, but he’s the only gay thing your father ever did. He hired him as a kind of man of all work around the house. Mr. Moffat produced him. He’s Dutch, from Sumatra, wherever that is. Somehow he was in the Dutch Army and then somehow he wasn’t. He’s about eight feet tall and built like something on the cover of one of those health magazines—you know, the ones that are not quite under the counter. He grins all the time and never wears anything but swimming trunks. Father and Mr. Moffat had a passion for him because he doesn’t drink or smoke.”
    “Or have sex?” I asked.
    “That,” said Selena thoughtfully, “we don’t know. You see, he’s kind of simple-minded, in a nice way, of course, and he either can’t or won’t learn a word of English so there’s no point in asking him.” A flat, speculative look came into her eyes. “One day I’m going to find out—with gestures.” She moved her face closer, kissing me almost abstractedly. “Darling, there’s your whole life in a nutshell. Don’t you really remember anything?”
    The shadowy image of a sailor and of an iris spun pointlessly in my mind. I thought the propellers were coming back. But they didn’t. For a moment, the nearness of Selena, the liveness of her bare skin against my hand lost their magic. I felt bleak, uneasy.
    “No,” I said. “I don’t remember a thing—not a solitary thing.”
    “Never mind, baby. “Her voice was low, soothing. “No one really expected you to remember anything yet. Don’t bother about it. Let’s forget it. Let’s relax.”
    We were still relaxing when the door opened. My mother came majestically in, carrying a tray with medicine bottles. She paused, surveying Selena lying on the bed from placid brown eyes.
    “Selena, dear,” she said mildly, “I don’t think we should overtire Gordy, do you?”
    Selena grinned up at her. “I’m not tiring him, Mother. We’re just relaxing...”
    “Relaxing,” said my mother, putting the tray down on the bedside table, “is all very well. But I don’t know that you are quite the relaxing type. Run along now, dear.”
    “But Mimsey, sweet...” Selena pushed herself up on the bed and flashed one of her blonde,