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defeat。 She had waited； dumbly hoping that a miracle would occur and Jack would
see what was happening； not only to him but to her。 But there had been no
slowdown。 A drink before going off to the Academy。 Two or three beers with lunch
at the Stovington House。 Three or four martinis before dinner。 Five or six more
while grading papers。 The weekends were worse。 The nights out with Al Shockley
were worse still。 She had never dreamed there could be so much pain in a life
when there was nothing physically wrong。 She hurt all the time。 How much of it
was her fault？ That question haunted her。 She felt like her mother。 Like her
father。 Sometimes； when she felt like herself she wondered what it would be like
for Danny； and she dreaded the day when he grew old enough to lay blame。 And she
wondered where they would go。 She had no doubt her mother would take her in； and
no doubt that after a year of watching her diapers remade； Danny's meals
recooked and/or redistributed； of ing home to find his clothes changed or his
hair cut or the books her mother found unsuitable spirited away to some limbo in
the attic 。。。 after half a year of that； she would have a plete nervous
breakdown。 And her mother would pat her hand and say fortingly； Although it's
not your fault； it's all your own fault。 You were never ready。 You showed your
true colors when you came between your father and me。
My father； Danny's father。 Mine； his。
（Who giveth this woman？ I do。 Dead of a heart attack six months later。）
The night before that morning she had lain awake almost until he came in；
thinking； ing to her decision。
The divorce was necessary； she told herself。 Her mother and father didn't
belong in the decision。 Neither did her feelings of guilt over their marriage
nor her feelings of inadequacy over her own。 It was necessary for her son's
sake； and for herself； if she was to salvage anything at all from her early
adulthood。 The handwriting on the wall was brutal but clear。 Her husband was a
lush。 He had a bad temper； one he could no longer keep wholly under control now
that he was drinking so heavily and his writing was going so badly。 Accidentally
or not accidentally； he had broken Danny's arm。 He was going to lose his job； if
not this year then the year after。 Already she had noticed the sympathetic looks
from the other faculty wives。 She told herself that she had stuck with the messy
job of her marriage for as long as she could。 Now she would have to leave it。
Jack could have full visitation rights； and she would want support from him only
until she could find something and get on her feet — and that would have to be
fairly rapidly because she didn't know how long Jack would be able to pay
support money。 She would do it with as little bitterness as possible。 But it had
to end。
So thinking； she had fallen off into her own thin and unrestful sleep； haunted
by the faces of her own mother and father。 You're nothing but a home…wrecker；
her mother said。 Who giveth this； woman？ the minister said。 I do； her father
said。 But in the bright and sunny morning she felt the same。 Her back to him；
her hands plunged in warm dishwater up to the wrists； she had menced with the
unpleasantness。
〃I want to talk to you about something that might be best for Danny and I。 For
you too； maybe。 We should have talked about it before； I guess。〃
And then he had said an odd thing。 She had expected to discover his anger； to
provoke the bitterness； the recriminations。 She had expected a mad dash for the
liquor cabinet。 But not this soft； almost toneless reply that was so unlike him。
It was almost as though the Jack she had lived with for six years had never e
back last night — as if he had been replaced by some unearthly doppelganger that
she would never know or be quite sure of。
〃Would you do something for me？ A favor？〃
〃What？〃 She had to discipline her voice strictly to keep it from trembling。
〃Let's talk about it in a week。 If you still want to〃
And she had agreed。 It remained unspoken between them。 During that week he had
seen Al Shockley more than ever； but he came home early and there was no liquor
on his breath。 She imagined she smelled it； but knew it wasn't so。 Another week。
And another。
Divorce went back to mittee； unvoted on。
What had happened？ She still wondered and still had not the slightest idea。
The subject was taboo between them。 He was like a man who had leaned around a
corner and had seen an unexpected monster lying in wait； crouching among the
dried bones of its old kills。 The liquor remained in the cabinet； but he didn't
touch it。 She had considered throwing them out a dozen times but in the end
always backed away from the idea； as if some unknown charm would be broken by
the act。
And there was Danny's part in it to consider。
If she felt she didn't know her husband； then she was in awe of her child — awe
in the strict meaning of that word： a kind of undefined superstitious dread。
Dozing lightly； the image of the instant of his birth was presented to her。
She was again lying on the delivery table； bathed in sweat； her hair in strings；
her feet splayed out in the stirrups
（and a little high from the gas they kept giving her whiffs of； at one point
she had muttered that she felt like an advertisement for gang rape； and the
nurse； an old bird who had assisted at the births of enough children to populate
a high school； found that extremely funny）
the doctor between her legs； the nurse off to one side； arranging instruments
and humming。 The sharp； glassy pains had been ing at steadily shortening
intervals； and several times she had screamed in spite of her shame。
Then the doctor told her quite sternly that she must PUSH； and she did； and
then she felt something being taken from her。 It was a clear and distinct
feeling； one she would never forget…the thing taken。 Then the doctor held her
son up by the legs…she had seen his tiny sex and known he was a boy immediately…
and as the doctor groped for the airmask； she had seen something else； something
so horrible that she found the strength to scream again after she had thought
all screams were used up：
He has no face！
But of course there had been a face； Danny's own sweet face； and the caul that
had covered it at birth now resided in a small jar which she had kept； almost
shamefully。 She did not hold with old superstition； but she had kept the caul
nevertheless。 She did not hold with wives' tales； but the boy had been unusual
from the first。 She did not believe in second sight but —
Did Daddy have an accident？ I dreamed Daddy had an accident。
Something had changed him。 She didn't believe it was just her getting ready to
ask for a divorce that had done it。 Something had happened before that morning。
Something that had happened while she slept uneasily。 Al Shockley said that
nothing had happened； nothing at all； but he had averted his eyes when he said
it； and if you believed faculty gossip； Al had also climbed aboard the fabled
wagon。
Did Daddy have an accident？
Maybe a chance collision with fate； surely nothing much more concrete。 She had
read that day's paper and the next day's with a closer eye than usual； but she
saw nothing she could connect with Jack。 God help her； she had been looking for
a hit…and…run accident or a barroom brawl that had resulted in serious injuries
or 。。。 who knew？ Who wanted to？ But no policeman came to call； either to ask
questions or with a warrant empowering him to take paint scrapings from the WV's
bumpers。 Nothing。 Only her husband's one hundred and eighty degree change and
her son's sleepy question on waking：
Did Daddy have an accident？ I dreamed 。。。
She had stuck with Jack more for Danny's sake than she would admit in her
waking hours； but now； sleeping lightly； she could admit it： Danny had been
Jack's for the asking； almost from the first。 Just as she had been her father's；
almost from the first。 She couldn't remember Danny ever spitting a bottle back
on Jack's shirt。 Jack could get him to eat after she had given up in disgust；
even when Danny was teething and it gave him visible pain to chew。 When Danny
had a stomachache； she would rock him for an hour before he began to quiet； Jack
had only to pick him up； walk twice around the room with him； and Danny would be
asleep on lack's shoulder； his thumb securely corked in his mouth。
He hadn't minded changing diapers； even those he called the special
deliveries。 He sat with Danny for hours on end； bouncing him on his lap； playing
finger games with him； making faces at him while Danny poked at his nose and
then collapsed with the giggles。 He made formulas and administered them
faultlessly； getting up every last burp afterward。 He would take Danny with him
in the car to get the paper or a bottle of milk or nails at the hardware store
even when their son was still an infant。 He had taken Danny to a Stovington…
Keene soccer match when Danny was only six months old； and Danny had sat
motionlessly on his father's lap through the whole game； wrapped in a blanket； a
small Stovington pennant clutched in one chubby fist。
He loved his mother but he was his father's boy。
And hadn't she felt； time and time again； her son's wordless opposition to the
whole idea of divorce？ She would be thinking about it in the kitchen； turning it
over in her mind as she turned the potatoes for supper over in her hands for the
peeler's blade。 And she would turn around to see him sitting cross…legged in a
kitchen chair； looking at her with eyes that seemed both frightened and
accusatory。 Walking with him in the park； he would suddenly seize both her hands
and say — almost demand： 〃Do you love me？ Do you love daddy？〃 And； confused； she
would nod or say； 〃Of course I do； honey。〃 Then he would run to the duck pond；
sending them squawking and scared to the other end； flapping their wings in a
panic before the small ferocity of his charge； leaving her to stare after him
and wonder。
There were even times when it seemed that her determination to at least
discuss the matter with Jack dissolved； not out of her own weakness； but under
the determination of her son's will。
I don't believe such things。
But in sleep she did believe them； and in sleep； with her husband's seed still
drying on her thighs； she felt that the three of them had been permanently
welded together — that if their three/oneness was to be destroyed； it would not
be destroyed by any of them but from outside。
Most of what she believed centered around her love for Jack。 She had never
stopped loving him； except maybe for that dark period immediately following
Danny's 〃accident。〃 And she loved her son。 Most of all she loved them together；
walking or riding or only sitting； Jack's large head and Danny's small one
poised alertly over the fans of old maid hands； sharing a bottle of Coke；
looking at the funnies。 She loved having them with her； and she hoped to dear
God that this hotel caretaking job Al had gotten for Jack would be the beginning
of good times again。
And the wind gonna rise up； baby；
and blow my blues away 。。。
Soft and sweet and mellow； the song came back and lingered； following her down
into a deeper sleep where thought ceased and the faces that came in dreams went
unremembered。
》
IN ANOTHER BEDROOM
Danny awoke with the booming still loud in his ears； and the drunk； savagely
pettish voice crying hoarsely： e out here and take your medicine！ I'll find
you！ I'll find youl
But now the booming was only his racing heart； and the only voice in the night
was the faraway sound of a police siren。
He lay in bed motionlessly； looking up at the wind…stirred shadows of the
leaves on his bedroom ceiling。 They twined sinuously together； making shapes
like the vines and creepers in a jungle； like patterns woven into the nap of a
thick carpet。 He was clad in Doctor Denton pajamas； but between the pajama suit
and his skin he had grown a more closely fitting singlet of perspiration。
〃Tony？〃 he whispered。 〃You there？〃
No answer。
He slipped out of bed and padded silently across to the window and looked out
on Arapahoe Street； now still and silent。 It was two in the morning。 There was
nothing out there but empty sidewalks drifted with fallen leaves； parked cars；
and the long…necked streetlight on the corner across from the Cliff Brice gas
station。 With its hooded top and motionless stance； the streetlight looked like
a monster in a space show。
He looked up the street both ways； straining his eyes for Tony's slight；
beckoning form； but there was no one there。
The wind sighed through the trees； and the fallen leaves rattled up the
deserted walks and around the hubcaps of parked cars。 It was a faint and
sorrowful sound； and the boy thought that he might be the only one in Boulder
awake enough to hear it。 The only human being； at least。 There was no way of
knowing what else might be out in the nig