The Royal Family by William T. Vollmann Page A

inconvenient it was for John to get away at all, so naturally he would rearrange his schedule as needed. It was a rare sunny day. Mrs. Tyler had installed herself in her hotel room for a nap. Irene lay sleeping on the sand, and her hands met at an apex beyond her head, there by the chair and the empty soda bottle. She had not yetreached that sluggish, langorous, trusting stage dwelt in by so many pregnant women, when the heavy belly makes every breath a burden, and independence must be traded for resignation, with or without hope, depending on temperament. Why not hope? Too late now to kill the fetus, if one ever thought of it. Why not assume the best of the father, and maybe even of the world? The only other course, aside from denial and distraction, would be a despair compounded by its own passivity. C’est sera sera, and so . . . The sun glittered on her watch. Beside her, John lay very still on his back. He was gold from head to toe. The breeze strained patiently inside his swim trunks, and the golden lion’s down on his arms seethed like seaweed in the waves. His chest barely moved. As Tyler watched, busily recording nonexistent license plate numbers in the surveillance report, Irene opened her eyes and looked up at the stubble on her husband’s chin. John seemed to feel her gaze, because his hand slowly rose to touch that very place. His eyes opened also, and he sat up. —I’m getting sunburned, he said. I think I’ll go in and put my shirt on. I need to shave, too.
    As soon as her husband had gone, Irene’s eyes widened, and she turned her face slowly toward Tyler’s. Tyler’s heart began pounding.
     

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    And how’s the home life? Tyler was saying to his brother.
    Great, said John, drumming his fingers on the edge of his beer glass. —Which reminds me. Mother, you’ll want to hear this. We’re expecting.
    Oh, John! their mother cried. What fabulous news! When is Irene due?
    September.
    Where is Irene? their mother said.
    She went to lie down.
    Has she been having morning sickness?
    I don’t think so, Mom, but I’m not a hundred percent sure. Irene’s not a complainer.
    John, you are very lucky to have her.
    Yeah, I know, Mom. How’s your blood pressure?
    It was normal today. Henry, aren’t you going to congratulate your brother?
    Congratulations, Tyler choked out.
    I think this calls for champagne, boys, don’t you think?
    Well, let’s wait until the baby’s born, said John sullenly.
    They sat there, and Tyler said: How’s the Peterson case coming along?
    We stopped that conviction dead, said John. Irene and I can count on a good bonus this year. So they’ve asked me to take the T-scam reclamation case. I haven’t refused, although it means I’ll be pretty busy for the rest of the year.
    Well, you do have to think of your career, their mother said. You certainly couldn’t have refused. I’m sure that Mr. Rapp and Mr. Singer are to be trusted. You’ve put up with so much for them. Oh, John, I’m so proud of you, and now you’re going to be a father, too! But you won’t leave Irene too much alone, will you? It’s difficult, a woman’s first time. I remember when I was pregnant with you, John, and then your father . . . Henry, you’ll have to look in on Irene even more often than you do. It’s a mercy that you and she are so fond of each other.
    Tyler began very slowly to clean his spectacles. —I’ll certainly visit, he said, if I’m invited.
    And what about you, Mom? said John smoothly. Irene loves you, too. I’m sure she’d appreciate it if you found time to help her.
    I certainly shall. When Irene wakes up I must find out if she needs anything. Has she had a good appetite?
    She’s going to eat me into the poorhouse, laughed John. Tyler thought it a brutal laugh.
    The fog’s coming in again, Tyler said, gazing out the window.
    Well, we were lucky all day with that wonderful sunshine, weren’t we? their mother said. Mugsy certainly enjoyed her walk. Henry, you need