At last, she drove into the gravel drive of her own home and was surprised to see the battered Chevie belonging to her son. Her heart leaped into her mouth and a wave of relief fell upon her. It would be so good to see him even though she had to break some terrible news. For some reason she couldn't understand, she was looking forward to his knowing. Well, she didn't blame herself. Enough had happened this morning to turn any woman's mind into an insane tangle of contradictory desires and thoughts! She entered the house by the back door into the kitchen, half expecting him to be putting a sandwich together for an early lunch, but he wasn't there. She tried the dining room and the living room and then started upstairs. The house was a bastardized ranch style with only three little stairs to the hall from which a bedroom opened on either side. The door to his room was wide open, so it never occurred to Liz to look the other way. Since she was looking for him, in fact, it was quite natural for her to look in! She had so much trouble believing what she saw that she was rooted to the spot and unable to move her eyes from the bed.
He was lying on the bed, completely naked, a drink in hand, his face turned up toward the ceiling. The radio was on and playing some rock piece, totally foreign to Liz. His nakedness in the flesh here reawoke the sounds of his lovemaking last night. It was startling. She didn't want to confront him like this, but she couldn't seem to pull away.