“Just tonight? … please … I promise, I'll be good.”

Oliver smiled at him, and stooped to kiss the top of his head. “I'd be a lot happier if you'd done your homework.”

“I forgot.”

“Apparently.” He took off his coat and tie, set down his briefcase near the desk, and sat down on the bed next to Sam, wondering if Sarah had called, but not daring to ask him. “What'd you do today?”

“Nothing much. Aggie let me watch TV when I got home.” They both knew Sarah had never let him do that. Things were changing rapidly without her, a little too much so for Ollie.

“Where's Benjamin?”

“Out.” Sam looked unconcerned.

“So I gathered.” And he was going to have to handle that too. He was not allowed to go out on weekday nights, even if this was his senior year. He was only seventeen, and Ollie wasn't about to let him run wild without Sarah. “Tell you what, champ. I'll let you sleep here tonight, but that's it. Tomorrow you go back to your own bed. Deal?”

“Deal.” They shook hands on it as the child grinned, and Oliver turned off the light.

“I'm going to go downstairs to get something to eat. Get some sleep.”

“G'night, Dad.” He looked happy as he snuggled into the big bed, taking over the half that had been Sarah's.

“Sleep tight …” Oliver stood looking at him for a long moment from the doorway. “I love you.” He whispered the words, and then went to check on Mel. She had dragged the hall phone into her bedroom, and there was disorder everywhere, clothes, books, hot rollers, shoes. It was a wonder she could get into the room at all, and she looked up at her father with a curious look as he waited for her to end the call. But she only covered the receiver with her hand.

“You want something, Dad?”

“Yes. Hello and a kiss might be nice. Have you done your homework?”

“Hello. And yes, I have.” She sounded annoyed even to be asked the question.

“Want to keep me company while I eat dinner?” She hesitated, and then nodded, looking none too pleased. She would have preferred staying on the phone with her friend, but her father had made it sound like a command performance. The truth was, he didn't want to eat alone, and she was the only candidate in the house, other than Aggie.

“Okay. I'll be right down.” He picked his way gingerly across the room, and went downstairs to find the dinner Aggie had left him. She had wrapped the plate in tinfoil and left it in the oven to stay warm, but when he uncovered it, there wasn't much there he wanted.

The lamb chops were overcooked, the baked potato was still hard, and the broccoli had died hours before. Even the smell of it didn't appeal to him, and he threw it all out and made himself fried eggs and fresh-squeezed orange juice, waiting for Mel to join him. He gave up eventually and by the time she came down, he was finished eating.

“Where's Benjamin?” He thought she might know, but she only shrugged.

“With friends, I guess,”

“On a weekday night? That's not very smart.” She shrugged again, and looked pained to be baby-sitting for her father. “Are you spending any time with Sam when you get home?” He worried about Sam most of all, especially when it was hard for him to get home on time. The child needed more in his life now than just Aggie.

“I have a lot of homework to do, Dad.”

“That didn't look like homework to me just now, in your bedroom.”

“He's in bed, isn't he?”

“He wasn't when I got home. He needs you now, Mel. We all do.” He smiled. “You're the lady of the house now that Mom's gone.” But it was a responsibility she had never wanted. She wanted to be free to be with her friends, or at least talk to them. It wasn't her fault her Mom had gone. It was his. If he hadn't done whatever he did that she still couldn't figure out, Sarah would probably never have left them. “I want you to spend time with him. Talk to him, keep him company for a little while, check his homework.”

“Why? He's got Aggie.”

“That's not the same thing. Come on, Mel, be nice to him. You always used to treat him like your baby.” She had even cradled him the night Sarah told them she was leaving. But now, it was as though she wanted no part of any of them. Like Sarah, she had divorced herself from all of them. And Oliver suddenly wondered if Benjamin was having the same reaction. He seemed to want to be out all the time, and that was going to have to stop too. He just wished he had more time with all of them, to help them cope with their reactions and their problems. The phone rang as he was talking to her, and he almost sighed when he heard his father on the line. He was too tired to talk to him now. It was after ten o'clock, and he wanted to shower and climb into bed with Sam. It had been a brutal day at the office, and coming home at night was no longer easy either.

“Hi, Dad. How are you?”

“I'm all right.” He seemed to hesitate, and Oliver watched Mel escape while he talked to his father. “But your mother's not.”

“Oh? Is she sick?” For once, Oliver was too tired to be very worried.

“It's a long story, Son.” The older man sighed as Oliver waited for the news. “She had a brain scan this afternoon.”

“My God … what for?”

“She's been acting confused … and she got lost last week while you were gone. I mean really lost this time, and she fell off some steps and sprained her ankle.” Oliver felt suddenly guilty for not calling from Vermont, but he had had his hands full too. “She's lucky, I suppose, at her age, she could have broken her hip, or worse.” But it couldn't be much worse than what they had told him.

“Dad, they don't do brain scans for a sprained ankle. What is it?” His father seemed to be wandering too, and Oliver was too tired to listen to a long story.

He seemed to hesitate again. “I was wondering if … could I drive over to see you?”

“Now?” Oliver sounded stunned. “Dad, what's wrong?”

“I just need to talk, that's all. And our neighbor Margaret Porter will keep an eye on her. She's been a great help. Her husband had the same kind of problems.”

“What problems? What are you talking about? What did they find?” Oliver sounded impatient with him, which was rare, but he was so tired and suddenly very worried.

“No tumors, nothing like that. That was a possibility, of course. Look … if it's too late …” But it was obvious that he needed to talk to someone, and Ollie didn't have the heart to tell him not to come over.

“No, it's fine, Dad, come on over.”

He put a pot of coffee on and made himself a cup, wondering again where Benjamin was and when he was coming home. It was too late to be out on a school night, and he was anxious to tell him just that. But his father arrived first, looking worn and pale. He looked years older than he had just a week before on Christmas, and it reminded Oliver again of his father's weak heart. He wondered if he should be out driving alone at night, but he didn't want to upset him now by asking.

“Come on in, Dad.” He hoped the doorbell hadn't woken Sam, as he escorted his father into the big, friendly kitchen. His father declined the coffee, but took a cup of instant decaf, and let himself slowly down into one of the kitchen chairs, as Ollie watched him. “You look worn out.” He probably shouldn't have let him come, but he had thought his father needed to talk, and he was right. He slowly told Oliver the results of the brain scan.

“She has Alzheimer's, Son. Her brain is visibly shrinking, according to the scan. They can't be sure of course, but that and her recent behavior seem to confirm the diagnosis.”

“That's ridiculous.” Oliver didn't want to believe it. “Get another diagnosis.” But George Watson only shook his head. He knew better.

“There's no point. I know they're right. You don't know the things she's been doing lately. She gets lost, she gets confused, she forgets simple things she's known all her life, like how to use a phone, the names of friends.” Tears filled his eyes. “Sometimes she even gets confused about who I am. She's not sure if I'm me, or you. She called me Oliver for days last week, and then she flew into a rage when I tried to correct her. She uses language I've never heard her use before. Sometimes I'm embarrassed to take her out in public. She called the bank teller we see every week a 'fucking asshole' the other day. The poor woman almost fainted.” Oliver smiled in spite of himself. But it wasn't funny. It was sad. And then suddenly George looked around with a puzzled air. “Where's Sarah? In bed?”

For a moment, Oliver thought of telling him she was out, but there was no point hiding the truth from him.

He had to find out sometime. The odd thing was that he felt ashamed of it, as though he had failed to keep his wife, as though it were clearly all his fault. “She's gone, Dad.”

“Gone where?” His father looked blank. “Gone out?”

“No, gone back to school. To Harvard.”

“She left you?” George looked stunned. “When did that happen? She was here with you on Christmas …”It seemed impossible to comprehend, but he suddenly saw the sorrow in his son's eyes, and now he understood it. “Oh God, Ollie … I'm so sorry … When did all this come up?”

“She told me about three weeks ago. She enrolled in their master's program last fall, but I think there's more to it than that. She says she's coming back, but I'm not sure of that. I think she's kidding herself more than she's kidding us. I don't know what to believe yet. We'll have to wait and see what happens.”

“How are the children taking it?”

“On the surface, pretty well. I took them skiing last week, and it did us all a lot of good. That's why I didn't call you. She left the day after Christmas. But in reality, I think we're all still in shock. Mel blames it all on me, Sam has nightmares every night, and Benjamin seems to be handling it by hiding out with his friends day and night. Maybe I'm not sure I blame him. Maybe if that had happened to me at his age, I'd have done the same thing.” But the idea of his mother leaving them was inconceivable to both of them, and it brought their thoughts back to her, after Oliver's astounding revelation. “What are you going to do about Mom?”