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We heard some scuffling and mumbling from the second floor. There was a moment of silence. And then Kloughn rolled down the stairs and landed at the bottom with a good solid thud. We all pushed back from the table and went to assess the damage.
Kloughn was spread-eagled on his back. His face was white and his eyes were wide. “I had the nightmare again,” he said to me. "The one I told you about.
It was awful. I couldn't breathe. I was suffocating. Every time I go to sleep I get the nightmare."
“What nightmare is he talking about?” Valerie wanted to know. I didn't want to tell Valerie about the whale. It wasn't the sort of recurring dream a bride could get all gushy about. Especially since Val had almost gone into cardiac arrest when Mary Alice had called her a blimp.
“It's a nightmare about an elevator,” I said. “He's in this elevator, and all the air gets sucked out, and he can't breathe.”
“All that white,” Kloughn said, sweat popping out on his forehead. “It was all I could see. I could only see white. And then I couldn't breathe.”
“It was a white elevator,” I said to Valerie. “You know how dreams can get weird, right?”
Morelli had Kloughn on his feet, holding him up by the back of his jacket again. “Now what?” Morelli said. “Where do you want him this time?”
“We should lock him up someplace safe where he can't get away,” Grandma said. “Someplace like jail. Maybe you should bust him.”
“What's in his jacket pocket?” Valerie asked, patting the pocket. “It's a candy bar!” She ran her fingers over it. “It feels like a Snickers.”
Some people can read Braille . . . my sister can feel up a candy bar in a pocket and identify it.
“I need that candy bar,” Valerie said.
“It wouldn't be good for your diet,” I told her.
“Yeah,” Grandma said. “Go eat another green bean.”
“I need that candy bar,” Valerie said, eyes narrowed. “I really need it.”
Kloughn pulled the candy bar out of his pocket, the candy bar slipped through his fingers, flew through the air, and bounced off Valerie's forehead.
Valerie blinked twice and burst into tears. “You hit me,” she wailed.
“You're a nutso bride,” Grandma said, retrieving the candy bar, tucking it into the zippered pocket of her warm-up suit jacket. “You're imagining things. Just look at Snoogie Boogie here. Does he look like he could hit someone? He don't know the time of day.”
“I don't feel so good,” Kloughn said. “I want to lie down.”
“Put him on the couch,” my mother said to Morelli. “He'll be safer there. He's lucky he didn't break his neck when he fell down the stairs.”
We went back to the table and everybody dug in again.
“Maybe I don't want to get married,” Valerie said.
“Of course you want to get married,” Grandma told her. “How
could you pass up Snogle Wogle out there? It'll be his job to take the garbage out on garbage day. And he'll get the oil changed in the car. You want to do those things all by yourself? And after we get you married off we gotta work on Stephanie.”
Grandma fixed an eye on Morelli. “How come you don't marry her?”
“Not my fault,” Morelli said. “She won't marry me.”
“Of course it's your fault,” Grandma said. “You must be doing something wrong, if you know what I mean. Maybe you need to buy a book that tells you how to do it. I hear there are books out there with pictures and everything. I saw one in the store the other day. It was called A Sex Guide for Dummies.”
Morelli paused with a chunk of meatloaf halfway to his mouth. No one had ever questioned his expertise in the sack before. His sexual history was legend in the Burg. My sister gave a bark of laughter and quickly clapped a hand over her mouth. My mother went pale. And my father kept his head down, not wanting to lose the fork-to-mouth rhythm he had going.
Morelli sat frozen in his seat for a long moment and then obviously decided no answer was the way to go. He gave me a small tight smile and got on with his meal. Things quieted down after that until Grandma started checking her watch halfway through dessert.
“No,” my mother said to her. “Don't even think it.”
