Chelsea is on her way out through the back door, scattering good cheer and neurotic laughter like iridescent shrapnel.
"What are you doing?" says Carl as he sees me starting to clear the table. With a firm hand on my shoulder he gently shoves me towards the doorway. "You were going to give your Australian friend a phone call. Remember?"
"But after the cleaning up."
"Francois and I will clean up. Now get moving."
"Yes sir." Then, just before I head to the living room, I stop. "Are you really going to get her to dye your hair blue?"
"You betcha. She said she's coming over Saturday night. Remember?"
I am still not ready to leave altogether. "You know something, Carl."
"What?"
"I've always wanted to have purple hair."
"You'd be a picture of loveliness."
"Should I ask her."
"Do it, man. now go make that phone call..."
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