Page 65 of Lucky Night

She shouldn’t be laughing right now! But she doesn’t just want to laugh—she also wants to weep and scream and run out the door and beat him to death with the remote. She needs him, she wants him, she hates his fucking face. Because here she is, marinating in a slew of awful feelings, a witch’s brew, she was justphysically assaulted,they’re in a predicament terrible enough to be the focus of the evening news, not to mention earning one of those dire redBreakingsubheads from theNew YorkfrickingTimes…and he wants to talk about dicks!

Witch’s brew. That’s what Ben calls a soup Tom makes, with tomatoes and beans. The first time he tasted it he hid under the kitchen table and cried. Natey joined him in solidarity.

Oh, Ben. Oh, Natey. Her little weirdos, her menaces. She sits up and opens her photos on her phone, so she can see their sweet faces.

But all she finds are pictures of Jill and a bunch of documents.

Right. Not her phone.

Her phone is gone.

This is all bad, so very bad. She doesn’t want to think about it. So she reaches for her glass and drainsit.

Not that big, she says.

Beg pardon?

Edvin’s dick. I saw it. His robe fell open while we were standing up at the television.

And you looked! he says.You hussy!

I couldn’t help it! It was right there.

She has shocked him, which pleases her. He gets the wine and refreshes their glasses.

I need every detail, he says. Start at the root, proceed to the tip. Or go the other direction. Up to you.

She shrugs.Eh.

Eh? he repeats. You’re a novelist, woman! Use your formidable powers of description.

I don’t know what to tell you. It was a basic pinkish schlong. The hair around it was copper-colored. There was a lot ofit.

Insulation for those Arctic winters, no doubt. But sizewise, you weren’t impressed?

It was normal. Small, even.

Fascinating. Still, imagine when he gets hard. It must smack the ceiling. He must need a special hoist to position it, like in a shipyard.

I can’t believe we’re talking about this, she says. We’re awful.

Ve’re the vorst, he agrees.

—and the force of that wind pushed through the elevator shafts and stairwells of the building, causing smoke to mass on the upper floors.

See? he says. The smoke is rising. The fire is still far belowus.

She picks up his phone and checks her go-to sites. The fire, once nowhere, is now everywhere. People are posting photos and videos on social media, the news sites are buzzing.

I wish he hadn’t left, she says.

He mutes the television. Edvin? He couldn’t helpit.

Why, because there’s no such thing as free will?

I was thinking it was because he’d completely lost his mind, he says, but sure. Also because there’s no such thing as free will.

You just muted the television, she says. You went to law school, years ago. You got married, had a child. Put on a blue shirt this morning. You’re saying all those decisions were completely out of your control?

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