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"You are so," Duncan said.
"Go get in the car," Garp said. "And stop fighting."
"You were fighting," Duncan said, cautiously; no one reacted and Duncan tugged Walt out of the kitchen. "Come on," he said.
"Yeah, the movie!" Walt said. They went out.
Garp said to Helen, "He's not to come here, under any circumstances. If you let him in this house, he won't get out alive. And you're not to go out," he said. "Under any circumstances. Please," he added, and he had to turn away from her.
"Oh, darling," Helen said.
"He's such an asshole!" Garp moaned.
"It could never be anyone like you, don't you see?" Helen said. "It could only be someone who wasn't at all like you."
He thought of the baby-sitters and Alice Fletcher, and his inexplicable attraction to Mrs. Ralph, and of course he knew what she meant; he walked out the kitchen door. It was raining outside, and already dark; perhaps the rain would freeze. The mud in the driveway was wet but firm. He turned the car around; then, by habit, he edged the car to the top of the driveway and cut the engine and the lights. Down the Volvo rolled, but he knew the driveway's dark curve by heart. The kids were thrilled by the sound of the gravel and the slick mud in the growing blackness, and when he popped the clutch at the bottom of the driveway, and flicked on the lights, both Walt and Duncan cheered.
"What movie are we going to see?" Duncan asked.
"Anything you want," Garp said. They drove downtown to have a look at the posters.
It was cold and damp in the car and Walt coughed; the windshield kept fogging over, which made it hard to see what was playing at the movie houses. Walt and Duncan continued to fight about who got to stand in the gap between the bucket seats; for some reason, this had always been the prime spot in the back seat for them, and they had always fought over who got to stand or kneel there--crowding each other and bumping Garp's elbow when he used the stick shift.
"Get out of there, both of you," Garp said.
"It's the only place you can see," Duncan said.
"I'm the only one who has to see," Garp said. "And this defroster is such junk," he added, "that no one can see out the windshield anyway."
"Why don't you write the Volvo people?" Duncan suggested.
Garp tried to imagine a letter to Sweden about the inadequacies of the defrost system, but he couldn't sustain the idea for very long. On the floor, in back, Duncan kneeled on Walt's foot and pushed him out of the gap between the bucket seats; now Walt cried and coughed.
"I was here first," Duncan said.
Garp downshifted, hard, and the uncovered tip of the stick-shift shaft bit into his hand.
"You see this, Duncan?" Garp asked, angrily. "You see this gearshift? It's like a spear. You want to fall on that if I have to stop hard?"
"Why don't you get it fixed?" Duncan asked.
"Get out of the goddamn gap between the seats, Duncan!" Garp said.
"The stick shift has been like that for months," Duncan said.
"For weeks, maybe," Garp said.
"If it's dangerous, you should get it fixed," Duncan said.
"That's your mother's job," Garp said.
"She says it's your job, Dad," Walt said.
"How's your cough, Walt?" Garp asked.
Walt coughed. The wet rattle in his small chest seemed oversized for the child.
"Jesus," Duncan said.
