The Weekend: A Novel Read Online Free PDF

sounds nice,” said Robert.
    “Does it? I suppose it does. I’m not really looking forward to it.”
    “Why not?” asked Robert.
    “Oh, it’s a long story. It’s complicated.” Lyle rested his chin on Robert’s shoulder, so that his mouth was beside Robert’s ear. “It was nice to sleep with you,” he said.
    “Thank you.”
    “You’re welcome,” said Robert.
    “I haven’t slept with anyone in ages,” said Lyle. “It’s awful how nice it can be.”
    “Why awful?” asked Robert.
    “Because then you miss it,” said Lyle. He strummed Robert’s
bare chest, feeling for his nipples. “Would you do it again?” he asked.
    “Sleep with you? Yes,” said Robert. “I would.”
    Lyle waited a moment, his thumb reading, over and over, the simple Braille dots on Robert’s chest. “Would you sleep with me now?” asked Lyle.
    Robert arched his back a little. “Now?” he said. “Yes.”

4
    JOHN HAD MADE BREAKFAST and was bringing it down into the garden. They had an old round table beneath the mulberry tree, which in the morning they dragged out into the sun. John had hung a bassinet from a limb of the tree, in which Roland was very content to have his naps.
    Marian strode up the lawn from her morning swim. “Oh, good,” she said. “I was hoping we could have breakfast outdoors. It’s such a beautiful morning.”
    “Yes,” said John, “one in a series.” He was shaking the mulberry-stained tablecloth. It was damp and smelled of the night.
    Marian took Roland out of his basket, which swung back and forth in the air, buoyed by his removal. He had been a weak and sickly baby yet everyone had said what a good baby he was—how
little he cried, how content he was—but now as he got older his goodness and docility began to alarm Marian. Secretly she worried that perhaps he was not quite right in some way, although the doctor did not share her alarm: she told Marian to thank her lucky stars that she had a quiet baby. But Marian would have been delighted if Roland had screamed or thrown things. She spent hours with him, reading or singing or talking nonsense, and though he did not seem to get bored, he never seemed to be particularly engaged. Sometimes he would smile, faintly, as if he remembered something, from another life, that was amusing.
    “What time did he wake up?” asked Marian.
    “Just a while ago,” said John. He replaced the cloth on the table, smoothing it out. “We should really get a new cloth. This one’s a mess.”
    “It’s fine for breakfast,” said Marian. She put Roland back in the basket. A woodpecker clung to the tree trunk. “Look,” she said to Roland, pointing: “bird.” Roland looked. “Bird,” she repeated. “Birdy.”
    “What?” asked John.
    “There’s a bird in the tree. A woodpecker, I think.”
    John looked up. The bird flew away.
    “Gone,” said Marian. “Bye-bye.”
    “Are you going to take a shower?” asked John.
    “Yes. But quickly. I’m starving.”
    “Will you bring the coffee out? And the paper, if it’s come?”
    “Yes,” said Marian.
    She went upstairs. Their bed was unmade and the room needed to be straightened. Later. She took off her nightgown, which was damp from her swim. From the bathroom window she looked down to see John feeding Roland. He was talking to the baby; she opened the window and leaned out to hear what he was saying
but John heard her and looked up. He stopped talking. She waved and shook her nightgown out and draped it over the windowsill. As she got into the shower she could hear the telephone ringing down in the kitchen.
    When she came back out with the coffee, John was digging weeds from the lawn. He had a pronged tool to assist him, and the vehemence with which he drove this into the ground often concerned Marian. Roland was crawling about the lawn beside his father.
    “Did you get the telephone?” asked Marian.
    “Yes,” said John. “It was Lyle.”
    “What did he want? He’s still coming, isn’t