The Cage

There was a dog barking somewhere in the vicinity, though try as he might, Daniel couldn’t quite pinpoint its location. The roads in this, the wealthiest part of town, wound and wove like snakes through an obstacle course, making it next to impossible to know which direction was which, such that even the ball compass in his beat-up sedan, ordinarily reliable, had trouble keeping up. Moreover, the barking seemed to be reaching Daniel’s ears as an echo, not a direct transmission, and was accompanied by an added metallic quality, amplifying its ferocity. But so long as the dog itself, which sounded rather substantial, wasn’t lurking behind the finely-manicured hedge of the address before him, Daniel was moderately certain he’d be all right. And so, after tightening his grip on the wobbly handle of his faux leather briefcase and clearing his throat of a hefty ball of phlegm, he extended his bony finger toward the intercom beside the front gate and pressed the call button.

“Who is it?” a man’s voice, sing-songy and fey, answered after a second press.

“Hello, my name is—”

“Hello?”

Daniel paused, then spoke again. “Hello, my name is Daniel—”

“Dear me, I was pressing the talk and not the listen. These old systems. I haven’t heard a word you’ve said. There, now try again, and please, speak clearly.”

This time Daniel leaned close to the intercom and enunciated his every word. “My name is Daniel Schneiderman. I work for the Cheshire school district. I am here to speak with Mr. Arnold Whitmore about his son’s attendance.”

“Iggy? No, he doesn’t go to school.”

“Yes, I am aware of that. I’ve come to help Mr. Whitmore enroll him.”

“Well, Arnie’s not here right now. But the boy is. Perhaps you’d like to speak with him.”

Before Daniel could refuse the offer, a buzzer clicked, unlocking the gate. He made no attempt to open it, but instead peered through its iron bars and examined the front yard for signs of the dog. The barking had ceased, but that only increased his anxiety, for now he had no sense whatsoever as to where the mongrel might be. But he could divine no urine stains or chew toys lying about, nor any freshly-dug holes for bones, just a well-kempt lawn and a couple of oak trees on either side of a finely-lain brick walking path leading up to the front steps (also made of brick), and a hand-carved mahogany door which presently swung open.

“Oopsy, did you miss the buzzer?” asked a tanned, shirtless, muscular man glistening with sweat from the top of his finely-coifed blonde hair all the way down to his wiggling toes. “Here, I’ll hit it again,” and he leaned back into the house, careful not to spill his red margarita.

“Wait!” Daniel shouted.

“Golly!” the man started. “What’s the matter?”

“I’m sorry, but is there any chance there’s a dog on the premises?”

“A dog? Now whatever put that notion into your head?”

“I heard barking.”

The man listened while taking a sip of his drink. “No, I don’t hear anything.”

“Earlier, when I first arrived.”

“How long have you been standing there?”

Daniel frowned but said nothing. The man leaned over again and pressed the button, and this time, Daniel pushed open the gate. Just as he was entering the yard, however, there was another bark, much closer it seemed, and so he scuttled up the path and into the house as if he were being chased. His briefcase bumped into the doorframe and the handle broke away, obliging him to kneel down and slide it into the house so the man could close the door. When he finally sprang back to his feet, clutching the case against his chest and the handle against the case, the glistening, shirtless man was smiling at him, wiping coconut from off his lips.

“My, now that was quite an adventure, wasn’t it? And look at you? Dressed as if you’re headed off to an important business meeting. And your little briefcase.” He poked the briefcase, amused. “I feel practically naked by comparison.”

You are practically naked, Daniel thought, and took a closer look at the man’s tight pecs, chiseled abs, and skimpy, drawstring shorts. “I’m sorry—”

“Don’t apologize. You keep apologizing. What is there to apologize for?”

“May I ask, are you Mr. Whitmore’s…significant other?”

At this the man doubled over in laughter, and nearly spilled his drink. “Significant other! Now that’s rich! No, dear, I’m his neighbor, Charmides, though most people call me Charm, because of my personality. No, I’m just over to use Arnie’s equipment. That’s why I’m covered in sweat.” He eyed Daniel up and down. “You don’t work out, do you?”

Daniel erected himself more thoroughly. “I jog—occasionally.”

“Well, it doesn’t help any that Arnie doesn’t like to use the air conditioner.”

“It’s better for the environment.”

“So everyone keeps telling me,” Charmides moaned, and wandered into the kitchen. “And what about you? Are you seeing anyone?”

Daniel placed the handle of the briefcase in his pants pocket and adjusted the case such that he now held it under his arm like a bulky, cumbersome book. He looked around the room at the eclectic furniture, all of which appeared to be rather pricey, until his gaze fell upon on a large black cage nestled in the corner next to an abstract painting of a—well, it was hard for Daniel to say, it was exceedingly abstract. Inside the cage there was something like a sofa cushion, perhaps a bed for a pet, and a blue plastic toy in the shape of a helix.

“You’ll have to speak up, dear. I didn’t catch that.”

“I have a girlfriend,” Daniel mumbled. “Sort of.”

“Yes, I’ve had one or two of those myself.”

“No, I meant—”

Charmides returned with a second margarita, this one with a strawberry wedged onto the rim of the glass, rather than a lime, as on his own. “I’ve just finished making these, but if you’d like—”

“No, thank you. I’m sorry, but—”

“There you go again—apologizing.”

“You said Mr. Whitmore doesn’t have a dog.”

“That’s right.”

Daniel pointed at the cage. “Then what is that for?”

Charmides cocked his head to the side. “Are you afraid of dogs, Dan?”

“It’s Daniel, and only the ones that bite.”

Charmides came closer, right up to Daniel’s chest, with only the two margaritas providing space between them. He took a sip from his own, then said, “Well, sometimes I bite. Are you afraid of me?”

“No, I—”

“You do seem rather tense. It must be that suit of yours. It doesn’t seem to fit you very well. And that material. Who’s your tailor?”

“I don’t—it’s store bought.”

“Well, that certainly explains a lot.”

Frowning, Daniel gripped the side of his briefcase with his opposite hand. “Do you know when Mr. Whitmore will be returning?”

“No, dear, I’m afraid I don’t. But he shouldn’t be long. He’s never long, except of course when he is.”

“Perhaps I should go then.”

Daniel made a move for the door, but Charmides brought his leg up and placed his sandaled foot against the wall, blocking Daniel’s path.

“Now? No, but you mustn’t. The party’s just getting started, and I’m dying to introduce you to the family.” Charmides lowered his foot, and as he made his way toward the patio door, he looked back over his shoulder and said, “Come along, dear. Chop, chop.”

#

The first thing Daniel noticed upon exiting the house was the swimming pool, which encompassed nearly half of the backyard, though his attention was quickly drawn to the cushioned sun lounger beside it, which Charmides sidled up to like a male model—although it was the woman lying upon it, at least in Daniel’s mind, who better fit the part. With impeccably-toned thighs, a belly as smooth as an unused cutting board, and a pair of breasts that her string bikini could barely harbor, she checked all his boxes regarding physical beauty. Better yet, she had high, well-developed cheek bones, full, luscious lips, and lots of dark, wavy hair, though because of the tanning goggles covering her eyes, his own reverted back to the body.

“Here’s your drink, darling,” Charmides said, leaning over to hand the woman the second margarita. “I’ve also brought company. Dan, this is Mila. Mila, this is Dan Schneiderman.”

Mila lifted her head just far enough to get a look of Daniel, though Daniel, having never worn tanning goggles before, wasn’t sure just how much of him she could actually see. He smiled anyway, and did his best to look presentable, hoping to make a good first impression.

“Schneiderman?” she said. “Is that German? I don’t care for the Germans. They’re always starting wars.”

“They are awful, aren’t they?” Charmides agreed. He went and sat in a lounger next to her, this one shaded by a rainbow-colored canopy.

“Actually,” Daniel said, “my ancestors came from Russia.”

“Russia!” Mila exclaimed. “And you think that’s better!”

“Tsk, tsk,” Charmides mused.

“Well I—”

“What is it you want anyway?” Mila asked before picking the strawberry off her glass with her blue-painted fingernails. “And would you mind moving to the right? You’re blocking my sun.”

Daniel did as asked, but he was unable to answer her question, for his mind was too absorbed in the way she was passing the fruit through her lips, sucking upon it first, and licking its flesh, before finally biting off the leaves and tossing them into the grass like an overused condom.

“He’s here about Iggy,” Charmides answered for him. “He wants to enroll him in school. I told him he should come back at a better time, when Arnie is here, but he insisted on meeting the boy this instant.”

“Now that’s not true. I—”

But before he could finish defending himself, a small head popped out of the pool, and attached to it, the healthy, growing body of a prepubescent boy. Daniel stepped back, as much from the start the boy’s sudden appearance had given him as to keep his shoes from getting wet.

“¿Cuánto duró eso?” the boy said to Mila.

“I’m sorry, hon,” she responded, taking off her sun goggles and setting them on the small, glass patio table next to her. “I lost count.”

“Pero ese fue el más largo de mi vida,” the boy protested, then looked at Daniel. “¿Quién es este perdedor?”

Both Mila and Charmides laughed.

“Este es Dan Schneiderman,” Mira replied. “Él es alemán.”

The boy gave Daniel another once-over, then exclaimed, “¡Hijo de puta!”—and took off swimming.

“Stay above the water now,” Mila called after him. For a moment, while sipping her drink, she looked on approvingly at the boy, then turned to Daniel with a more neutral demeanor. “So, now that you’ve had plenty of time to soak it in, what do you think?”

“I’m sorry?” Daniel asked, unsure as to what she was referring to.

“Don’t apologize,” Charmides scolded once again. “I told him not to apologize, but he keeps doing it.”

Mila discarded him with a faint smile, then returned to Daniel. “My hole.”

“Your what?”

“Or are you the sort that needs a closer look?”

“What? No, I—”

Mila set her drink on the table next to her and held out her hand. “Would you mind?”

“Really, I wasn’t staring at your, your hole, I swear. I—”

“Take my hand.”

Daniel took her hand and helped her up. She seemed to have some difficulty in acquiring her balance, but it was only when she brought her foot up and rested it on Charmides’ lounger that he saw what the problem was. Toward the rear of her right thigh, just behind the femur, she had hole about the size of a dime.

“So, what do you think?”

Daniel brought his fingers to his lips, astonished. “I, I don’t know, I—”

“It happened when I was in high school. I was practicing my kick for the four hundred when an errant javelin speared me straight through, thus putting an end to my promising track and field career, and any hope of a scholarship.”

Daniel winced at the thought.

“Most men find it appalling for a woman of my beauty to have such an imperfection, and as soon as they see it, they lose all attraction for me. But occasionally I meet someone who finds it rather alluring. That’s the case with Arnie. He considers it one of my greatest attributes. In fact, he makes love to it whenever the occasion arises.”

“Love to it?” Daniel asked.

“Most women only have three workable orifices, double if you count the hands separately and the space between our tits. But I have an extra hole—two, since you can attack it both from the inside and the out, leaving me with a total of eight.” She smiled, proud of herself. “What do you say? Care for a feel?”

“I’m sorry—”

“Don’t apologize.”

“Are you, are you suggesting that I, that I stick my, my penis into your leg?”

Charmides laughed, just as uncontrollably as he had over the suggestion that he might be Arnold’s lover. But Mila was less enthused.

“Your finger, you German buffoon. It’s all right. Even Charm has had a go at it.”

“It tastes like chicken,” Charmides said.

As peculiar as the offer was, a part of Daniel did want to, and so he got down on one knee in order to create a better angle. Through the hole he happened to see the boy swimming by, and waited for him to disappear before trying to fill it. Then, slowly, he stuck his shaking finger into Mila’s hole and held himself there just long enough to get a feel for it.

“So, do you like?” Mila asked as Daniel was getting back to his feet.

“Do you have to ask?” Charmides once again answered for him. “That’s not a banana in his pocket.”

“It’s my briefcase handle,” Daniel snapped, and he pulled out the proof to show Mila. “It broke off when I was coming into the house.”

“He’s afraid of dogs,” Charmides explained; but Mila grabbed the handle and cast it aside. “I don’t care about that,” she said. “I’m asking about my hole.”

“I don’t know, I…. Does it hurt, when someone—”

“On the contrary, it makes me feel whole again.”

“Ugh,” Charmides whined. “Get a room.”

“What’s that?” said a handsome, casually-dressed man exiting the house. “Did I hear that correctly? Is this your new lover?”

“To whom are you speaking?” Charmides answered wryly.

“You know very well whom, you insolent sop,” and the man came over and kissed Mila fully on the lips. “At least we should be introduced if we are to be sharing you.”

“This is Dan. Schneiderman. He’s German.”

“I thought you hated Germans.”

“He doesn’t like dogs,” Mila replied, returning to her sun lounger.

“I’m not her lover, I swear,” Daniel hastened to add. “Are you, are you Mr. Whitmore?”

“Call me Arnie,” Arnold said, and he shook Daniel’s hand.

“Dad,” the boy said, coming up to the side of the pool, “I held my breath for the longest time ever.”

“That’s great, son!”

“Yeah, but Mila forgot to count.”

“That’s all right,” Arnold said. “You’ll best it soon enough—and we’ll be sure to get a clock on it the next time around.”

The boy smiled and took off swimming again.

Suddenly, Arnold snapped his fingers and pointed at Daniel. “Dan Schneiderman? You’re the one who sent me that letter.”

“I’ve also called several times, but I’m always sent straight to your voice mail.”

“Yes, I never pick up for unimportant people. But I do admire persistence. I’ll tell you what,” he said, placing his arm around Daniel’s shoulders, “why don’t we go inside and see if we can’t hash things out? Charm?”

Daniel glanced back at Charmides, who was getting up.

“Actually, I was sort of hoping we could speak in private.”

“Are you denying me the right to counsel?”

“He’s your lawyer? You said you were his neighbor.”

“I’m all sorts of things, dear,” Charmides replied; then, turning to Arnold: “This margarita’s gone straight through me—I’ll have to tinkle first. Please, don’t start the show without me.”

#

“So, you must think I’m a rather neglectful parent, no?” Arnold said after they had all settled themselves in the living room. “To have failed to enroll my son in school.”

He had given Daniel the sofa, which the social worker had chosen to occupy by sitting on the middle cushion, thinking that he would have it all to himself; but when Charmides had returned from the bathroom, he’d come and sat beside him, crossing a bare ankle over the opposite bare knee. Both the closeness and the casualness of the lawyer bothered Daniel, especially the closeness, but he had already placed his briefcase on the other cushion, and worried that switching places now would come across as rude—indeed, doubly rude, for Arnold was also sitting rather close, having moved a plush upholstered armchair directly up to Daniel, such that the men’s knees were practically touching, a proximity exaggerated by the fact that Arnold was leaning forward and staring intently into Daniel’s eyes. No, his position on the couch appeared to be decisive, and the best that Daniel could hope for now was that the meeting would proceed swiftly and smoothly, like a drop of pool water down Mila’s sleek, Mediterranean flesh.

“No, not at all,” he laughed nervously, glancing again at the cage, which sat just over his right shoulder. “I’m sure this is all just a big misunderstanding. In situations like these, where a child has been transferred from one parent to another, and from one city to another, it’s not uncommon for the new parent to be unaware of all the rules and regulations regarding school.”

Arnold leaned back and crossed his legs in much the same fashion that Charmides had, though his white designer slacks made him look more professional. Indeed, everything about him, from his silver collared dress shirt down to his black leather dress shoes made him appear as the epitome of professionalism. “You seem to know a lot about me,” he said, and brought his hands before his chest, tapping his fingertips together. “Tell me, what have you learned?”

Daniel cleared his throat, this time swallowing his phlegm. “Well, I, I know that you’re an entrepreneur, and that you run businesses all over town, including a jiu-jitsu academy over on—”

“Ah, so that’s how you found out about Iggy. One of the mothers ratted me out. Who was it? I’ll bet it was Shirley Jacobson.” He turned to Charmides. “I spurned her advances.”

Charmides nodded. “Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.”

“So,” Arnold said, turning back to Daniel, “was it her?”

Daniel hesitated, placing a hand on his throat, which was becoming a bit dry. “I really don’t think that’s pertinent to our discussion.”

“Go on, tell me anyway.”

“I’m sorry—”

“Don’t apologize.”

Arnold glanced at the briefcase. “Is her name in there?”

They stared at each other in silence, then Arnold lunged for the case, fast, forcing Daniel to do likewise. Soon, the two of them were engaged in a tug of war, which seemed to go on forever, long enough anyway for Charmides to swill the rest of his margarita, set the glass aside, and root for his client to win.

“C’mon, Arnie, get him!”

But Daniel refused to let go. He put everything he had into it, even if it should kill him in the process, and despite being in poorer shape than his adversary, with arms and hands that looked gangly by comparison, he managed to prove the victor: at last, Arnold released the case, propelling Daniel back into the sofa like a rock shot out of a sling. Clenching the briefcase against his chest, the social worker looked over at Charmides, who simply rolled his eyes and sighed.

“Well, you can’t win them all.”

Arnold readjusted the sleeves on his shirt, then sat back and placed his forearms on the arms of the chair. “I imagine it’s not very often that you have to show up at someone’s house unannounced. And I’ll wager the living circumstances when you’ve done so have proven rather harrowing.”

“Well,” Daniel huffed, “no one’s ever fought me for my briefcase before, that’s for sure.”

“I was imagining drugs, substance abuse, that sort of thing.”

Daniel nodded then composed himself, deciding it best to speak, trusting that it would get them back on track. “Last spring, I had a truancy case. The young adolescent had missed two weeks of school—three, by the time I made it over to his mother’s apartment. There was a bong resting on the coffee table, and a needle next to it. She didn’t even try to hide them from me, as if she wanted me to call child services, which I did, as per my obligation, though not until after her pit bull took a bite out of my ankle.”

“Oh dear,” Charmides sympathized. “No wonder you’re afraid of dogs.”

“Of course, that is the least of your fears, is it not, Mr. Schneiderman?”

Daniel looked straight ahead. “I’m sorry?”

Arnold put his hand out to stop Charmides from speaking. He got up and walked around his chair, draping all ten fingers over the top of the back. “I read an article recently about all the cutbacks the district has made over the past several years. Getting rid of teachers, rolling back on electives. How’s your position, by the way? Is it safe?”

Daniel looked up at him. “Well it—”

“I would imagine that your boss is none too pleased that a boy from the richest part of town has failed to enroll in one of his underfunded schools.”

“Private school is an option, Mr. Whitmore.”

“I wonder, how much does it hurt inside to have to cling to a job that sickens you?”

Now Daniel frowned. “How would you know how I feel about my job?”

“What did you want to be, when you were going to school? No, wait. Let me guess.” Arnold began pacing back and forth, rubbing his chin as he did so. “I know. You wanted to be an English professor, correct?”

Daniel turned to Charmides in surprise. “Well, yes, that, that’s correct.”

“But you couldn’t cut it.”

“Now that’s not stric—”

“You couldn’t cut it, couldn’t get into graduate school, so you had to fall back on your second major, which your parents urged you to get in exchange for help with tuition. Only why social work? Was that also their decision, or your own?”

Daniel slumped, relaxing his grip on the briefcase. “There was a girl.”

“There always is, dear,” Charmides said, patting him on the shoulder. “Except in my case, of course.”

“And speaking of women,” Arnold added, “how’s your current relationship?”

“Not good, from what I’ve heard,” the lawyer put in, and after retaking his glass, got up and walked into the kitchen. “Not good at all.”

“Mr. Whitmore,” Daniel said, “if we could get back to your son—”

“What’s she like anyway, your girlfriend? Good-looking, no? Perhaps a bit out of your league? Which worries you, especially because she, too, wishes you’d become a professor, teaching the great Bard at a noteworthy university rather than having to track down delinquent students in order that they might have his words shoved down their throats and ruined forever.”

“Et tu, Brute,” Charmides called out.

“If you’re that concerned about your child’s education, Mr. Whitmore,” Daniel tried once again, “you can always homeschool.”

“Isn’t that what I’m doing?” Arnold asked, and he came around the sofa, around the back of it, and leaned over, placing his face very close to Daniel’s own. “Isn’t this a home?”

“Yes, but in order to clear it with the state, there are forms you have to fill out. I have them in my briefcase, if you’d like to—”

Suddenly, Arnold leapt over the sofa and plopped himself down right where Charmides had been sitting. “But at least you have something,” he went on, picking up where he’d last left off. “At least you have a job, which is more than she can say for the other men she’s dated. What would happen, though, if you lost that job? Hm, I wonder. Would she leave you? Is that what brought you to my doorstep?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Yes, you are. You’re very sorry. A sorry man. You come here pretending to care about my child’s welfare, when in fact what you really care about is your own.” Arnold reached out and grabbed Daniel’s cheeks. “Now listen to me and listen to me good. I have no intention of sending Iggy to one of your schools, public or otherwise, and nor do I intend to fill out any papers. But I am going to do something else for you. I noticed earlier you admiring my cage.”

“IwounsayIwasamiringit.”

“You’re probably wondering what it’s for. Well, I’ll tell you. It’s for sitting in.”

“Sittingin?”

At last, Arnold let go, and while Daniel moved his jaw about in order to regain some feeling in it, the entrepreneur got up and went around to the cage.

“Would you like to try it?” he said, swinging open the door. “You can even play with the toy, if you want.”

“I—”

“Don’t apologize,” Charmides said, returning to the room with three drinks in hand. He tried to hand one to Daniel, but he refused to take it, despite his dry throat, so the lawyer set it aside and walked over to his client, handing him his. Daniel stared at the two of them as they sipped in unison.

Finally, he said, “Are you actually suggesting that I get inside the cage?”

“You see, Danny, while you were rooting around in my past, I had Charm here hire a private eye to do a little rooting into yours.”

“You, you what?”

“And I have to say, based on the information he found, I’d gather you’re about two tics away from a nervous breakdown.”

“You spied on me?”

“Now, if I were in your position, I’d go see a shrink. But you can’t afford a shrink, can you? Not a good one, anyway.”

“And you think sitting in a cage will help me?”

“It can be very refreshing,” Charmides said, retaking his seat on the sofa.

Daniel turned around to him. “You’ve sat in there?”

“Oh, yes, whenever I lose a case, not that it happens very often—”

“He’s a very good lawyer.”

“—but when it does, I just skidoodle my way in and wait until all my problems have melted away. Yes, I’ve spent quite a few hours in there. Of course, with those tight hips of yours…”

Daniel looked down at his hips, not sure what was wrong with them.

“So, how about it?” Arnold asked, jiggling the cage door. “You up for a little therapy?”

Incredulous, Daniel looked back and forth between the two men, searching for a sign that they were joking, but when he did not find one, he got up and said, “I think I’d better leave.”

Just then Iggy and Mila walked in through the patio door. The boy was drying his hair with a colorful towel, which he then wrapped around his waist, though Mila was as scantily-clad as ever, and despite the hitch in her step and the hole in her thigh, still looked marvelous to Daniel.

“Oh good,” the boy said happily, “he hasn’t gotten in yet. That’s the best part.”

“Wait. They know about this?”

Arnold laughed. “I can’t very well lock a stranger in a cage in my living room without warning my family first, now can I?”

Now all four of them laughed—all except Daniel, who was even more appalled.

“You were planning on locking me in?”

Arnold nodded matter-of-factly. “It’s more therapeutic if you know you can’t get out. If you become wholly dependent upon others for your needs.”

“Make sure you play with the toy though,” Iggy suggested helpfully.

“No, because under no circumstance am I crawling in there.”

“You shouldn’t yell at a child,” Charmides scolded.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.”

Fed up, Daniel turned to leave, but Mila had come round and was blocking his path. He bumped into her with his briefcase, and she took it from him and tossed it back onto the sofa. Then she snatched his hand and sat, tugging him down with her. For the first time, he got a good look at her eyes, which were as brown as chocolate and made one want to lick them.

“Do you know, I go into the cage all the time.”

Daniel swallowed. “You do?”

“Whenever the pain from my hole gets to be too much to bear. I just pop in there, and within an hour I feel as good as new.”

“Beats taking pills,” Charmides pointed out. “I’ve seen them ruin people.”

“Plus,” Iggy said, coming forward, “you can pretend you’re a dog and bark. Ruff! Ruff!”

Daniel stared at him, astonished. “You’re the dog.”

“Please, Danny,” Arnold said, still holding onto the door, “it’s for your own good.”

“Get in the cage!” Iggy chanted, pumping his fists. “Get in the cage!”

Now the other three joined him, chanting and pumping their own fists: “Get in the cage! Get in the cage!”

Daniel didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t recall the last time that anyone had been this enthusiastic about him doing anything. Not even his girlfriend got this geared up when they were making love. Still, it was a cage—a dog cage, no less—and the thought of crawling inside of it was just, well, it was just too much.

He turned his gaze back to the front door. No one was blocking him now. If he got up quick and ran, he might be able to make it out of the house and to his car without anyone catching him. Yes, there was the gate, but he was pretty sure he saw a handle on it that someone could use from the inside in order to get out—that’s how security gates typically worked, wasn’t it? They kept people out, but allowed those who were already in to get out. Of course, in a house such as this, with people like these, who could say for sure that theirs worked the same way? Still, it was worth a shot. If need be, he could always try climbing the fence.

And so he got up and ran to the door—but just as he was taking hold of the nob, he realized that he’d forgotten his briefcase. He looked back and there it sat, on the sofa cushion next to where he’d been sitting. No one had touched it. In fact, they’d made no move for it whatsoever, not even Arnold, who had fought so forcefully for it before. They were just staring at him in suspense, as if wondering what his next move would be. It became clear to him that they were done quarreling with him and weren’t going to stop him from leaving, nor even prevent him from returning for his briefcase. They had done all they could to entice him to stay, and it was up to him now to decide what his next move should be.

He came back for the briefcase, and reached for the handle, but there was no handle to grab. He stood up straight and looked at his empty hand. Then he moved his gaze from face to face, from Arnold to Charmides, then Mila to Iggy. Still, they stared at him, until finally, Iggy restarted the chant, more quietly this time, as if they were trying to coax an animal into its—well, into its cage.

“Get in the cage. Get in the cage.”

Daniel got in the cage. He came over to the front of it, looked Arnold in the eye and nodded, then got down on his hands and knees and crawled inside. As he was trying to get situated, he noticed that in fact his hips were quite tight, but in the end he managed to find a comfortable position, with his back against the rear of the cage, his legs crossed Indian-style, and his buttocks resting firmly on the cushion.

“Okay,” he said to Arnold, “you can close the door now.”

“Oh no,” Arnold said, releasing his grip on the door, “you must always close the door yourself. That’s the rule.”

Nodding, Daniel reached for the door and closed it. Now Arnold took out a padlock from a nearby drawer, placed it on the cage, and cinched it closed. As if fireworks had been set off, the other three cheered and applauded.

“Yay!”

Smiling, Daniel said, “You know, I think I’ll have that drink now, if you don’t mind.”

Charmides picked up the drink, but as he was bringing it over, he said, “Oh dear, I’ve forgotten a straw.”

“I’ll get it!” Iggy shouted, and he ran off to the kitchen.

“I’ll hold it for him,” Mila offered, and she knelt down in front of the cage, the hole in her thigh squishing together, making it look more like a scar.

“Do you think there’s also a chance you might turn on the air conditioner,” Daniel asked. “It’s quite warm in here.”

“I’m afraid not,” Arnold said, shaking his head. “There are only so many things we may do for you, and that is not one of them.”

Daniel shrugged. “I understand.”

Soon Iggy returned and gave the straw to Mila, who placed it in the drink and then angled it between the narrow bars of the cage. Daniel leaned forward and took a sip. It was a bit strong, but then again, he had never been much of a drinker. Anyway, he liked it, and took another sip. Then he picked up the toy and just sort of held it, not really knowing what else to do with it. But from the look on the others’ faces, that was enough, and so he continued to hold it, held it tightly, held it for all it was worth.