Crow Fair by Thomas McGuane

Pontiac GTO and a home-oxygen supply van with a kayak rack on top. A light rain had begun to fall, and when Nell got out, she danced around, head thrown back, tongue wiggling and palms up. It was crazy but kind of infectious. Jewell caught her eye, raised a warning finger, and her arms dropped to her sides. Then Bruce pivoted toward the front door. “We surf the toppings.” Nell and I followed, and I was startled when she sought my hand, like a child. I thought I’d extract it, then thought I’d just let it ride and watch for Ann’s reaction. Even in the shift, Nell was eye-catching and would remain so until her behavior was observed.
    Looking around the half-filled room, I said, “Let me see if I can spot them.” Rascal’s had turned into something of a sports bar, with armatured TV screens hung all around the room,speakers blaring. Servers in the lavender Rascal’s uniform hunched over beers while keeping eyes on the screens, some of which showed a demolition derby in Wyoming; one was playing an interview with A-Rod as to his health, and yet another displayed a girl weeping in some jungle setting, holding a revolver. I regarded each of these as a distraction, ground clutter keeping me from finding my wife. Jewell was right in front of me, thumbs in his suspenders. “What say we eat?”
    “Sure, Bruce, grab a table. We can always move.”
    “Not once I tuck into a family size. I could eat a horse.”
    “I’m soooooo hungry!” cried Nell.
    They weren’t here, and I was very abruptly frantic. I kept checking my watch as though it could tell me something. I made sure the ring and vibrate features were both activated on my cell phone, probably taking too much time doing so, since before I knew it both the waitress and the Jewells were eyeing me impatiently. I ordered a small house pizza automatically, just to dispel the awkwardness.
    “Not even going to check out the toppings?” asked Jewell.
    “Got it,” said the waitress and sped off.
    Jewell said, “You all right?”
    “Me? Sure. It’s just that I—”
    “Maybe she ran away with the circus! Ha-ha-ha!”
    “Yeah, that must be it,” I mumbled, instantly aware of what must have been my disquieting delivery. In any case, they saw nothing funny and gazed at me quietly, Nell with her own fervor and concern. “The circus,” I added.
    Why was I so preoccupied? Because I had been deceived by my wife and she had invested some serious planning in this deceit. To what end? To meet someone who was not me and asI awaited a pizza I would have enormous trouble choking down while sitting with two idiots. These were not happy thoughts.
    Then it hit me! The Clearys were too good for a pizza joint, and they had changed restaurants. No doubt, one of their children would be happy to tell me which one they had chosen. I excused myself and went outside with the smokers and called the Clearys’ house. Craig Cleary answered. “Oh, Craig, hi, Hoyt here. Wasn’t tonight the night Ann and I were to meet you at Rascal’s?”
    “I don’t eat at Rascal’s. Is that where you are?”
    “No big deal. We’ll just grab something to go.”
    “Rascal’s! How’s Ann taking this?”
    “I think she’s fascinated in a kind of ironic way.”
    “Fascinated! What’s fascinating at Rascal’s?”
    I struggled, finally blurting, “The toppings.” I disliked this treatment by Craig, and so I repeated firmly, as though training a dog, “The toppings, goddamn it!”
    When I got back to the table, Jewell remarked, “Your face could turn wine into vinegar.” I took it in stride. I had to. My head was spinning. There was a numb spot on my leg, and my mouth felt like it had been years since my last cleaning. There was only one thing to do: get home before Ann.
    “Why is the food taking so long?”
    Jewell asked, “First time ordering a pizza, pal?”
    “I just found out on the phone that Ann sprained her ankle—”
    “Oh, how?”
    “Gopher hole.”
    “A gopher