“He has green eyes and black hair.”
“What else?”
“No mommy and no daddy.”
“What else?”
“No freckles.”
“What else?”
“A sword.”
“What else?”
“I don’t know,” said Ramona, and began to scratch herself again.
“He sounds beautiful!” Mary Jane said, and leaned even farther forward in her chair. “Ramona. Tell me. Did Jimmy take off his galoshes, too, when you came in?”
“He has boots,” Ramona said.
“Marvellous,” Mary Jane said to Eloise.
“You just think so. I get it all day long. Jimmy eats with her. Takes a bath with her. Sleeps with her. She sleeps way over to one side of the bed, so’s not to roll over and hurt him.”
Looking absorbed and delighted with this information, Mary Jane took in her lower lip, then released it to ask, “Where’d he get that name, though?”
“Jimmy Jimmereeno? God knows.”
“Probably from some little boy in the neighborhood.”
Eloise, yawning, shook her head. “There are no little boys in the neighborhood. No children at all. They call me Fertile Fanny behind my—”
“Mommy,” Ramona said, “can I go out and play?”
Eloise looked at her. “You just came in,” she said.
“Jimmy wants to go out again.”
“Why, may I ask?”
“He left his sword outside.”
“Oh, him and his goddam sword,” Eloise said. “Well. Go ahead. Put your galoshes back on.”
“Can I have this?” Ramona said, taking a burned match out of the ashtray.
“May I have this. Yes. Stay out of the street, please.”
“Goodbye, Ramona!” Mary Jane said musically.
“Bye,” said Ramona. “C’mon, Jimmy.”
Eloise lunged suddenly to her feet. “Gimme your glass,” she said.
“No, really, El. I’m supposed to be in Larchmont. I mean Mr. Weyinburg’s so sweet, I hate to—”
“Call up and say you were killed. Let go of that damn glass.”