no way of dealing with the equally strange people around him. The only solution, he knew, was to forget about Julie, to forget that she had ever existed, and somehow to go back to the time before she had been conceived, when there had been only Sally and Jason and himself. If he could do that—if they could do that—then things would be all right again. They would be a family again.
But every day, every hour, something happened, or something was said, that reminded him of his little girl, and the scabs were ripped from his wounds and he began to hurt all over again.
And then he would lash out.
Lash out at Sally, lash out at Jason, lash out at anything or anyone that was available. The worst of it was that even though he understood what was happening to him, he could do nothing to stop it, nor could he bring himself to try to explain it to Sally.
He no longer knew what to do about Sally. He had thought that time would take care of her wounds, as he hoped time would take care of his own. But then, late this afternoon, he had had that call from Dr. Wiseman.
Wiseman was worried about Sally. His conversation had been filled with words and phrases of which Steve had only a vague understanding.
“Obsessive behavior.”
“Paranoid tendencies.”
“Neurotic compulsion.”
All of it, Steve knew, boiled down to the fact that while he was trying to forget what had happened, his wife was refusing to face it. Instead, she was grasping at straws, looking for plots where there were no plots. And if it continued, according to Wiseman, Sally could wind up with serious mental problems.
Dinner, when it finally was on the table, was an unhappy affair, with Steve at one end of the table, Sally at the other, and Jason caught in the middle, understanding only that something had gone wrong—something connected with his sister’s death—and his parents didn’t seem to love each other anymore. He ate as fast as he could, then excused himself and went up to his room. When he was gone, Steve carefully folded his napkin and set it next to his plate.
“I think we have to talk,” he said.
Sally, her lips still drawn into a tight line that reflected the anger she had been feeling since before dinner, glared at him. “Are you going to apologize for the way you spoke to Jason and me?”
“Yes, I am,” Steve replied. He fell silent, trying to decide how to proceed. Finally, as the silence grew uncomfortable, he made himself begin. “Look, Sally, I know both of us are under terrible strain, and I know we both have to handle this in our own way. But I’m worried about you. Dr. Wiseman called today—”
“Did he?” Sally cut in. There was a coldness to her voice that Steve had never heard before. “Somehow, that doesn’t surprise me,” she said. “Did he tell you he thinks I’m a hysteric? He does, you know.”
“Sally.” Steve made his voice as soothing as he could. “He didn’t say anything of the sort. He’s worried about you, and so am I. We can’t go on this way. We’re tearing ourselves apart Look at us. Barely speaking to each other, and when we do, it’s not very pleasant And what about Jason? We’re hurting him too.”
The words stung Sally, for she knew they were true. Yet she couldn’t keep from thinking about Julie and what might have happened to her. She had to find out, had to know that whatever had happened to Julie had not been her own fault. If she couldn’t do that, how could she go on living, go on being a mother to Jason? How could she ever know a moment’s peace if the thought was ever-present in the back of her mind that she might have done something that killed her own baby. And yet, Jason was still there, and Steve, too, and she loved them both very deeply. For tonight, at least, she would put her problems out of her mind and take care of her family.
“You’re right,” she said out loud. “Steve, I’m sorry.” She leaned back in her chair and toyed with her fork. “That sounds hollow, doesn’t it? Our world is falling apart, and all I can do is say I’m sorry.’ But what good does it do?” Without waiting for an answer, she stood up and started toward the stairs. “I’ll go try to make up with Jason. Can