“Why don’t you tell me?” he said.
“Don’t you want to go to the Westacotts’?”
“Do you?”
“I don’t care,” Janey said. “Why should I care?”
And later: “Maybe the Westacotts want to come over here?” she said.
“Do you want them to?”
“It might be fun,” she said, “considering you’re in such a bad mood.”
“I’m not in a bad mood,” he said.
“Could have fooled me,” she said.
“Besides, I don’t think Helen would like to.”
“She’s come over here before,” Janey said.
“That’s not what I mean,” he said.
“Are you going to cook pasta for dinner?” she asked.
On Sunday morning, they got into an argument about the messy kitchen.
“Fuck it!” he screamed.
Janey came running out of the bedroom. “What’s wrong?” she said.
“Look at this mess!” he shouted. He was holding a roll of paper towels in his hand.
“So?” Janey said.
“So don’t you ever clean up?”
“Redmon,” Janey said coolly. “You know what I am. I don’t clean.”
“That’s right,” he screamed. “How could I have been so stupid? You’re a modern woman. You don’t cook, you don’t clean, you don’t take care of a husband and children, and you don’t work. You just expect some rich guy to take care of you because you’re . . . a . . . a . . . woman! And the whole world owes you,” he finished, throwing a damp sponge at her.
“Golly, Redmon,” Janey said calmly. “You sound just like Bill Westacott.”
“Oh yeah?” he said. “Well maybe there’s a reason for that. Since you’ve been fucking him.”
“I have not,” Janey said, injured.
“That’s what he said. He told me.”
“He only told you because he’s jealous. He wanted to fuck me and I wouldn’t.”
“Oh Christ,” Redmon said. “Do I need this?” He put his head down in his arms. “I always knew I should never have gotten involved with a girl who can’t even read a newspaper.”
“I can read a newspaper,” she said. “But I choose not to. They’re boring, okay? Like you and all of your friends.”
Redmon said nothing. Janey drummed her fingernails on the counter. “What else did Bill say?”
“He said you were a whore.” He picked up his head and looked at Janey. “He said you have no money . . . you’re just looking for a rich guy . . . you’d never stick around.”