Burning House by Ann Beattie

lonesome.”
    He dialed his house. Ilena picked it up.
    “Reconsider,” he said. “Come to dinner. We’re going to Mr. Chow’s. You love Chow’s.”
    “I’ve got nothing to say to her,” Ilena said.
    “Come on,” he said. “Go with us.”
    “She’s always stoned.”
    “Go with us,” he said.
    llena sighed. “How was work?”
    “Work was great. Exciting. Rewarding. All that I always hope work will be. The road manager for Barometric Pressure called to yell about there not being any chicken tacos in the band’s dressing room. Wanted to know whether I did or did not send a telegram to New York.”
    “Well,” she said. “Now I’ve asked about work. Only fair that you ask me about the doctor.”
    “I forgot,” he said. “How did it go?”
    “The bastard cauterized my cervix without telling me he was going to do it.”
    “God. That must have hurt.”
    “I see why people go around stoned. I just don’t want to eat dinner with them.”
    “Okay, Ilena. Did you walk Fathom?”
    “Manuela just had him out. I threw the Frisbee for him half the afternoon.”
    “That’s nice of you.”
    “I can hardly stand up straight.”
    “I’m sorry.”
    “I’ll see you later,” Ilena said.
    He went out of the phone booth and walked up the stairs. Pretty women never liked other pretty women. He rang the buzzer outside Benton and Olivia’s room.
    Benton opened the door in such a panic that Nick smiled, thinking he was clowning because Nick had told him earlierthat he was too lethargic. It only took a few seconds to figure out it wasn’t a joke. Benton had on a white shirt hanging outside his jeans and a tie hanging over his shoulder. Olivia had on a dress and was sitting, still as a mummy, hands in her lap, in a chair with its back to the desk.
    “You know that call? The phone call from Ena? You know what the message was? My brother’s dead. You know what the hotel told Ena days ago? That I’d checked out. She called back, and today they told her I was here. Wesley is dead.”
    “Oh, Christ,” Nick said.
    “He and a friend were on Lake Champlain. They drowned. In November, they were out in a boat on Lake Champlain. Today was the funeral. Why the hell did they tell her I’d checked out? It doesn’t matter anymore why they told her that.” Benton turned to Olivia. “Get up,” he said. “Pack.”
    “There’s no point in my going,” she said, her voice almost a whisper. “I’ll fly to New York with you and go to the apartment.”
    “Elizabeth would hate not to see you,” Benton said. “She likes to see you and clutch Jason from the hawk.”
    “Elizabeth is at your mother’s?” Nick said.
    “Elizabeth misses no opportunity to ingratiate herself with my family. They’re not at my mother’s. They’re at his house, in Weston, for some reason.”
    “I thought he lived on Park Avenue.”
    “He moved to Connecticut.” Benton slammed his suitcase shut. “For God’s sake, I’ve made plane reservations. Will you pack your suitcase?”
    “I’ll drive you to the airport,” Nick said.
    “God damn it,” Benton said, “I don’t mean to be ungracious, but I realize that, Nick.” Benton was packing Olivia’s suitcase. He looked at the bedside table and sighed and held the suitcase underneath it and swept everything in. He put a sign about the continental breakfast the hotel served back on the table.
    “I really love you,” Olivia said, “and when something awful happens, you treat me like shit.”
    Olivia got up and Nick put his arm around her shoulder and steered her toward the door. Benton came behind them, carrying both suitcases.
    “You were lucky you could get a plane this close to Thanksgiving,” Nick said.
    “I guess I was. Forgot it was Thanksgiving.”
    “Maybe people don’t go home for Thanksgiving anymore,” Nick said.
    Nick was remembering what Thanksgiving used to be like, and the good feeling he got as a child when the holidays came and it snowed. One Christmas his