Diane laughed. "I can believe the second one."
"The toilet's in there, isn't it?"
"You mean you haven't . . . ?"
Kinsman walked past her, carefully. "Nobody owns beer, you know. You merely rent it."
It was a narrow cubicle with an old-fashioned tub that stood on four rusted swans; the toilet was equally ancient. No roaches in sight. No sink. He bent over the tub and splashed cold water on his face, then patted it dry with a limp towel hanging on the back of the door.
He came out and saw Diane still standing in the middle of the room, eyeing him quizzically.
"How do you get a cab around here?" he asked,
"You don't. Not at this hour. No trains or buses, either."
"I'm stuck here?"
Diane nodded.
"A fate worse than death," he muttered.
The room's furnishings consisted of a bookcase crammed with sheet music and a few paperbacks, the water bed, a Formica-topped table with two battered wooden chairs that did not match, the water bed, a pile of books in the corner by the windows, a few colorful pillows strewn across the floor here and there, the water bed, two guitars, a sink and small stove with some cabinets above them, and the water bed.
"We can share the bed," Diane said.
He felt his face turn red. "Are your intentions honor- able?"
She grinned at him. "The condition you're in, we'll both be safe enough."
"Don't be so sure."
But he fell asleep as soon as he sank into the soft warmth of the bed. His last thought was an inward chuckle that he did not have to spend the night under the same roof as his father.
It was during the misty, dreaming light of earliest dawn that he half awoke and felt her body cupped against his. Still half asleep, they moved together, slowly, gently, unhurried in the pearl-gray fog, touching without the necessity to think, murmuring without the need for words, caressing, making love.
Kinsman lay on his back, smiling peacefully at the cracked ceiling. Diane stroked the flat of his abdomen, saying drowsily, "Go back to sleep. Get some rest and then we can do it again."
It was hours later by the time Kinsman had showered in the cracked tub and climbed back into his wrinkled, sweaty uniform. He was peering into the still-steamed bathroom mirror, wondering what to do about his stubbly chin, when Diane called through the half-open door.
