Mac was never quite able to grasp the origin of his exile.
He drove the city in typical patterns, the only unusual aspect being the entirety of his possessions strewn about the car. Cooper had been vehement, rage barely suppressed. He would have advanced to physical means, but Mac was not insubstantially sized.
Sybil had reported to Cooper attempted intimacies on Mac's part. Mac felt deeply confused to find his own denials hollow. Of course he wasn't guilty, and Sybil had done some strange things. But just his being there in the living room made him feel the center of a huge stroke of misfortune. For having seen.
In the middle of the ejection process a visible consideration passed over Cooper's face. He instructed Mac to stand there a minute. He went back inside the trailer. Mac heard shouting. To hell with the money: Sybil's sentiment.
Cooper returned and resumed the eviction.
Mac spent the rest of the night driving, nursing the injustice, showing up for work when the hour came. Cooper didn't appear until after ten and they began their practice of not addressing each other forevermore. Until lunch.
Cooper gave Mac half a barbeque sandwich from Hendrix's on Trenton in the west city. Then he began to kid around in the normal manner, tit jokes for the fourth time, with the same "Mitsubishi!! Mitsubishi!!" punch line. Mac thought he detected a message.
"So can I put my stuff back in the trailer?" Cooper acted like he didn't hear. "Hey Coop. I didn't do anything."
"Of course you did. She told me. I'm just glad you made sure the baby was out of the room. Appreciate it, man"
"She was acting weird, is all I know."
"I believe that. And if she hadn't been my wife, I would have fucked her too, plus worse. I don't blame you."
Nothing Mac said got through. Then, when Meyer was locking up for the day, Mac made one last attempt. "No," Cooper said simply, sullenly. "And don't ask again, man."
In Mac's unsophisticated formulation, the banishment seemed evidence of universal disorder.