The Hotel New Hampshire

I wondered about the guy who'd been shacked up with Doris Wales when she had her experiences; where was he now? Had he been the same since?

Doris Wales sang only Elvis Presley songs; when it was appropriate, she changed the he's to she's (and vice versa); this improvisation and the fact, as Junior Jones noted, that she was 'no Negro,' made listening to her almost unbearable.

In a gesture of making peace with his sister, Junior Jones asked Sabrina to dance the first dance; the song, I remember, was 'Baby, Let's Play House,' during which Sleazy Wales several times overpowered his mother's voice with his electricity. 'Jesus God,' Father said. 'How much are we paying them?'

'Never mind,' Mother said. 'Everyone can have a good time.'

It seemed unlikely, although Egg appeared to be having a good time; he was wearing a toga, and Mother's sunglasses, and he was keeping clear of Frank, who lurked at the edge of light, among the empty tables and chairs -- no doubt grumbling, to himself, his disgust.

I told Bitty Tuck that I was sorry I'd called her Titsie -- that it had just slipped out.

'Okay, John-John,' she said, feigning indifference -- or worse: feeling true indifference for me.

Lilly asked me to dance, but I was too shy; then Ronda Ray asked me, and I was too shy to refuse. Lilly looked hurt, and refused a gallant invitation from Father. Ronda Ray swung me violently around the floor.

'I know I'm losing you,' Ronda told me. 'My advice: when you're going to pull out on someone, tell them first.'

I was hoping Franny would cut in, but Ronda wheeled us into Junior and Sabrina, who were clearly arguing.

'Switch!' Ronda cried, gaily, and took Junior away.

Hurricane Doris, in an unforgettable transition of slopped-together sound, crushed instruments, and Doris's strident voice, switched gears and gave us 'I Love You Because' -- a slow, close-dancing number, through which I trembled in the steady arms of Sabrina Jones.

'You're not doing so bad,' she said. 'Why don't you put a move on that Tuck girl -- your sister's friend?' she asked me. 'She's about your age.'

'She's eighteen,' I said, 'and I don't know how to put a move on anybody.' I wanted to tell Sabrina that although my relationship with Ronda Ray was carnal, it had hardly been a learning experience. With Ronda, there was no foreplay; sex was immediate and genital, but Ronda refused to let me kiss her on the mouth.

'That's how the worst germs get spread around,' Ronda assured me. 'Mouths.'

'I don't even know how to kiss anybody,' I told Sabrina Jones, who seemed puzzled at what -- for her -- was a non sequitur.

Franny, who didn't care for the way Ronda Ray was dancing the slow number with Junior, cut in on them, and I held my breath -- hoping Ronda wasn't going to come after me.

'Relax,' said Sabrina Jones. 'You feel like a ball of wire.'

'I'm sorry,' I said.

'Never apologize to the opposite sex,' she said. 'Not if you want to get anywhere.'

'Get anywhere?' I said.

'Beyond the kissing,' Sabrina said.

'I can't get to the kissing,' I explained to her.

That's easy,' Sabrina said. To get to the kissing, all you have to do is act like you know how to kiss: then someone will let you start.'

'But I don't know how,' I said.

That's easy,' Sabrina said. 'Just practice.'

'Nobody to practice with,' I said -- but I thought, fleetingly, of Franny.

'Try it with Bitty Tuck,' Sabrina whispered, laughing.

'But I have to look like I know how,' I said. 'And I don't.'

'We're back to that,' Sabrina said