The Saturday night neighborhood gathering was winding down. Too many hamburgers and too much potato salad had weighed down the stragglers in chairs on the patio. The citronella torches were burning, and the condensation on the beer cans made little wet rings on the outdoor furniture. Things were going smoothly until Irene asked if anyone had seen “The Help.”

“No, I’m dying to go,” Melanie said. “I loved the book.” Ellen and Trish agreed. They couldn’t wait to see if Minny, Aibileen, Hilly and Skeeter were exactly as they had pictured them.

“Let’s go Tuesday night,” Irene said.

“Yes, let’s all go,” three or four women said at once.

None of the husbands made a sound. Randy suddenly asked Irene’s husband, Sal, how he liked his new four-wheeler. He purposely used his outside voice.

“I really haven’t had a chance to take it out and put it through its paces,” Sal said. “I was planning to go out Tuesday night.” Randy allowed as how he’d like to see that.

“Wednesday night, then,” Irene said. The women all agreed that was good for them. All the men sadly shook their heads. It was a shame, they’d love to, but not on Wednesday, and, by the way, Thursday and Friday were bad for them, too.

“Why don’t you girls all just go by yourselves?” Sal said.