Candyman, to his own astonishment and hers, got a second erection a minute after their intimacies were completed; and so Gabriele went to the car for her sketchbook, and drew him nude. A few minutes after she was done she was again in a confused state of not knowing if she had flown to Ithaca or had driven there. She was fading fast. All earlier utterances that she had to make to Candyman, where she had to pull down some ethereal sense of self in order to have some coherent conversation and some degree of rationality behind her situation, had exhausted her more than the sex act itself. She fell asleep. And when she woke up she smelled cooking and went into the kitchen. Candyman was frying bacon in the skillet and she knew that he was thinking about their experience together as he watched the hardening bacon shrink on a paper towel bedding.. "Well, I guess I need to pay you, Candyman." "Yeah, what'd we say—forty so that you could have ten bucks for gas money." "That's what was said." "I'm wondering something there, Husky. Why'd you come all this ways when you could get drugs anyplace." "Didn't know where to go there, Candyman, and I needed to get out and think about things, you know." She paid Candy Man his forty dollars — a discount price for the sexual services she rendered unto him, and the two shook hands. "Going back to your son?" "Oh, did I tell you about him?" "Sure — you were tellin' to me lots you don't know nothin' about. One time you were spacing out and talkin' 'bout your son and a Russian boy, packing and coming here." She remembered: shortly before she went to bed last night, Nathaniel came into her room. She was packing at the time. He looked at her maliciously. "You bored?" she asked. "Maybe," he said. "Do you miss Rick?" she asked. He didn't answer. "Will you sleep with Cat tonight?" "I hate the smell of that dog." "Hmm…maybe you should give a friend a call." "I don't have any. I don't like people and they don't like me." "I can't believe that. Is there no one at St. Michaels whom you play with?" "It isn't called St. Michaels." "Whatever. Answer my question." "There is a Russian kid who pesters me." "Well, don't look at it as pestering. I'd say that since his language is different than yours and the nuance of the meanings of words would be different he might make a good friend. I don't know him but as nerdy as he might be, his perspective of life would be slightly different than an American and so you might learn about the world anew through exchanging ideas with him. Do the two of you do anything together?" "He plays in the same baseball team." "What's his name?" "Don't know. It is too hard to remember." "A Russian boy with an unmemorable name?" "Yes." "Do you have his telephone number?" "No. I want to know were you are going.." "Don't know. I won't leave for anyplace far away. I think I'll go to Ithaca for a day or two and see a friend." "Rita/Lily?" "No, not her." "Who?"