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For all their talking, they’d hardly touched on romance—or maybe there’d been romance in every word. “I’ll walk you to your hotel,” she said. “Hey, that’s really nice of you,” he said. His voice sounded fakey and forced in his ears. All of a sudden, he wasn’t tired at all, instead his heart was hammering in his chest and his blood sang in his ears. There was hardly any talk on the way back to the hotel, just the awareness of her steps and his in time with one another over the cold late-winter streets. No traffic at that hour, and hardly a sound from any of the windows they passed. The town was theirs. At the door to his hotel—another stack of the ubiquitous capsules, these geared to visiting parents—they stopped. They were looking at one another like a couple of googly-eyed kids at the end of a date in a sitcom. “Um, what’s your major?” he said. “Pure math,” she said. “I think I know what that is,” he said. It was freezing out on the street. “Theory, right?” “Pure math as opposed to. Bethany zipped her son's fly and pointed to the door.William left the bedroom and closed the door behind him.Bethany collapsed on the bed and sobbed; wracked with shame and guilt.Valerie woke up and found that she had had a nocturnal emission; thefront of her knickers were soaked. She had had that dream again.Sally was sound asleep beside her and Emily lay on the other side ofSally. They had slept three-in-a-bed for the last three nights andValerie was surprised that she'd had the wet dream. She'd had so muchsex lately she didn't think she had it in her.But that dream. That dream that wasn't really a dream; it was a memory,and it never went away. Not since her mother had died.Valerie lay there and remembered the second part of the dream. WhereWilliam's mother came to his bed that night dressed exactly like she hadthat afternoon. He was naked and his erection was tenting the sheet ashe thought about what had happened in his mother's bedroom.Without a word Bethany had slid under.
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