The Early Stories by John Updike

a boat on smooth water,” he told his two passengers. The simile pleased him.
    Mr. Lutz squinted ahead. “Like a what?”
    â€œLike a boat.”
    â€œDon’t go so fast,” Thelma said.
    â€œThe motor’s so quiet,” John explained. “Like a sleeping cat.”
    Without warning, a truck pulled out of Pearl Street. Mr. Lutz, trying to brake, stamped his foot on the empty floor in front of him. John could hardly keep from laughing. “I see him,” he said, easing his speed so that the truck had just enough room to make its turn. “Those trucks think they own the road,” he said. He let one hand slide away from the steering wheel. One-handed, he whipped around a bus. “What’ll she do on the open road?”
    â€œThat’s a good question, John,” Mr. Lutz said. “And I don’t know the answer. Ninety, maybe.”
    â€œThe speedometer goes up to a hundred and ten.” Another pause—nobody seemed to be talking. John said, “Hell. A baby could drive one of these.”
    â€œFor instance, you,” Thelma said. That meant she had noticed how well he was driving.
    There were a lot of cars at the liquor store, so John had to double-park the big Buick. “That’s close enough, close enough,” Mr. Lutz said. “Don’t get any closer, whoa!” He was out of the car before John could bring it to a complete stop. “You and Tessie wait here,” he said. “I’ll go in for the liquor.”
    â€œMr. Lutz. Say, Mr. Lutz,” John called.
    â€œDaddy!” Thelma shouted.
    Mr. Lutz returned. “What is it, boys and girls?” His tone, John noticed, was becoming reedy. He was probably getting hungry.
    â€œHere’s the money they gave me.” John pulled two wadded dollars from the change pocket of his dungarees. “My mother said to get something inexpensive but nice.”
    â€œInexpensive but nice?” Mr. Lutz repeated.
    â€œShe said something about California sherry.”
    â€œWhat did she say about it? To get it? Or not to?”
    â€œI guess to get it.”
    â€œYou guess.” Mr. Lutz shoved himself away from the car and walked backward toward the store as he talked. “You and Tessie wait in the car. Don’t go off somewhere. I’ll be only one minute.”
    John leaned back in his seat and gracefully rested one hand at the top of the steering wheel. “I like your father.”
    â€œYou don’t know how he acts to Mother,” Thelma said.
    John studied the clean line under his wrist and thumb. He flexed his wrist and watched the neat little muscles move in his forearm. “You know what I need?” he said. “A wristwatch.”
    â€œOh, Jan,” Thelma said. “Stop admiring your own hand. It’s really disgusting.”
    A ghost of a smile flickered over his lips, but he let his strong, nervous fingers remain as they were. “I’d sell my soul for a drag right now.”
    â€œDaddy keeps a pack in the glove compartment,” Thelma said. “I’d get them if my fingernails weren’t so long.”
    â€œ
I’ll
get it open,” John said. He did. They fished one cigarette out of the old pack of Old Golds they found and took alternate puffs. “Ah,” John said, “that first drag of the day, clawing and scraping its way down your throat.”
    â€œBe on the lookout for Daddy. They hate my smoking.”
    â€œThelma.”
    â€œYes?” She stared deep into his eyes, her face half hidden in shadow.
    â€œDon’t pluck your eyebrows.”
    â€œI think it looks nice.”
    â€œIt’s like calling me ‘Jan.’ ” There was a silence, not awkward.
    â€œGet rid of the rette, Jan. Daddy just passed the window.”
    Being in the liquor store had put Mr. Lutz in a soberer mood. “Here you be, John,” he said, in a businesslike way. He handed John a tall, velvet-red