“I'm not sure what I can do. They said that at the rate she's going, she could degenerate pretty rapidly. Eventually, she won't recognize anyone, she won't know me.” His eyes filled with tears again, he couldn't bear to think of it. He felt as though he were losing her day by day, and the thought of it made him feel all the more sharply Oliver's pain over losing Sarah. But he was young enough, he'd find someone else one day. Phyllis was the only woman George had ever loved, and after forty-seven years he couldn't bear the thought of losing her. He took out a linen handkerchief, blew his nose, and took a deep breath as he went on again. “They said it could take six months or a year, or a lot less, before she's in a totally removed state. They just don't know. But they think it will be hard to keep her at home once that happens. I don't know what to do …” His voice quavered and Oliver's heart went out to him. He reached out and took his hand. It was hard for him to believe they were talking about his own mother, the woman who had always been so intelligent and strong, and now she was forgetting everything she had ever known and breaking his father's heart in the process.

“You can't let yourself get too overwrought about this, or it'll make you sick too.”

“That's what Margaret says. She's the neighbor I told you about. She's always been very good to us. Her husband suffered from Alzheimer's for years, and she finally had to put him in a home. She had two heart attacks herself, and she couldn't take care of him herself anymore. He was like that for six years, and he finally passed away last August.” He looked miserably at his son. “Ollie … I can't stand the thought of losing her … of her not remembering anything … it's like watching her fade away bit by bit, and she's so difficult now. And she was always so good-natured.”

“I thought she seemed a little agitated on Christmas Day, but I didn't realize anything like this was happening. I was too wrapped up in my own problems, I guess. What can I do to help?” It was hideous, he was losing his mother and his wife, and his daughter would hardly speak to him. The women in his life were fading fast, but he had to think of his father now, and not himself. “What can I do for you, Dad?”

“Just be there, I guess.” The two men's eyes met and held, and Oliver felt a closeness to him he hadn't felt in years.

“I love you, Dad.” He wasn't ashamed to say it now, although years before, the words might have embarrassed his father. When Oliver was young, his father had been very stern. But he had softened over the years, and he needed his son desperately now, more than he'd ever needed anyone.

“I love you too, Son.” They were both crying openly, and George blew his nose again, as Oliver heard the front door open and close quietly, and he turned to see Benjamin walking swiftly up the stairs and he called out to him.

“Not so fast, young man. Where've you been until eleven-thirty at night on a weekday?”

Benjamin turned, looking flushed from the cold and embarrassment, and then he looked surprised to see his grandfather sitting there. “Out with friends … sorry, Dad. I didn't think you'd mind. Hi, Grampa, what are you doing here? Something wrong?”

“Your grandmother's not well.” Oliver was suddenly stern, and feeling strong again. His father's warmth seemed to give him new strength, at least someone still cared about him. And his father needed him, and so did the kids, even if Sarah didn't need him anymore. “And you know damn well you're not allowed to go out on a school night. You pull that again and you're grounded for two weeks. Got that, mister?”

“Okay, okay … I told you I was sorry.” Oliver nodded. The boy looked odd. Not drunk or stoned, but as though there was something different about him suddenly. He seemed more of a man, and he didn't seem inclined to argue. “What's wrong with Grandma?”

His grandfather looked up unhappily, and Oliver spoke up quickly for him. “Your grandmother's been having some problems.”

“Will she be okay?” Benjamin looked suddenly young and very frightened. It was as though Tie couldn't bear the thought of losing anyone else. He looked worriedly at the two men, and Oliver patted his shoulder. “She'll be okay. Your grandpa needs some support, that's all. Maybe you can find some spare time for him, away from all those friends that are so appealing.”

“Sure, Grampa. I'll come over and visit this weekend.” The boy was fond of him, and George Watson was crazy about his grandchildren. Sometimes Oliver thought he liked them better than he had his only son. He was mellower now and better able to enjoy them.

“Your grandmother and I would like that.” He stood up, feeling tired and old, and touched the boy's arm, as though it might restore some youth to him. “Thank you both. I'd better be getting home now. Mrs. Porter will be wanting to get home. I left your grandmother with her.” He walked slowly to the front door, with Benjamin and Oliver following.

“Will you be all right, Dad?” Oliver wondered if he should drive him home, but his father insisted that he preferred his independence. “Call when you get home then.”

“Don't be foolish!” George snapped. “I'm fine. It's your mother who's not well.” But his face softened again then, and he hugged Oliver to him. “Thank you, Son … for everything … and … I'm sorry about …”He glanced at Benjamin, and his look took them both in. “… about Sarah. Call if you need anything. When your mother's feeling a little better, maybe Sam could come over and spend a weekend.” But it didn't sound as though she was going to be getting any better.

Both men watched George drive away, and Oliver sighed as he closed the front door. Nothing was simple anymore. For anyone. It was sobering to think about the problem with his mother. He turned to look at Benjamin then, wondering what was going on in his life that he wasn't sharing.

“So where are you going these days when you're out till all hours?” He eyed him carefully as they turned out the lights and headed upstairs.

“Just out with friends. Same old crowd.” But something in the way he moved his mouth told Ollie he was lying.

“I wish I thought you were telling me the truth.”

Benjamin gave a start and turned to look at him. “What makes you say that?”

“It's a girl, isn't it?” Oliver was smarter than he knew, and Benjamin looked away with an odd smile that said it all.

“Maybe it is. It's no big deal.” But it was. A very big deal. His first affair, and he was crazy about her. They were spending every minute they could in bed. Her parents were out all the time. Both her parents worked, and they seemed to go out a lot, and she was the last child at home, so they had plenty of free time to themselves, and they knew exactly what to do with it. Sandra was his first big love. She was a pretty girl from his school. They were in the same chemistry class, and he was helping her pass it. She was on academic probation all the time, unlike him, and she didn't really care. She was a lot more interested in him, and he loved the way her body felt when he touched her. He loved everything about her.

“Why don't you bring her around sometime? Does Mel know her too? I'd like to meet her.”

“Yeah … maybe … sometime… G'night, Dad.” He disappeared swiftly into his room, and Oliver smiled to himself as he walked into his bedroom, and saw Sam, just as the telephone started ringing. He hurried into the bathroom with it, with the long cord Sarah had had installed so she could talk on the phone while she was in the tub, and in a hushed voice he answered. He thought that maybe it would be his father. But his heart stopped. It was Sarah.

“Hello?”

“Is that you?”

“Yes.” A long pause while he tried to regain his composure. “How are you, Sarah?”

“I'm fine. I found an apartment today. How are the kids?”

“Holding up.” He listened, aching for her, and then suddenly hating her again for leaving. “It hasn't been easy for them.” She ignored the remark.

“How was skiing?”

“Fine. The kids had a good time.” But it wasn't the same without you … he wanted to say the words to her, but he didn't. Instead, he said the one thing that he had promised himself he wouldn't. “When are you coming home for the weekend?”

“I just left a week ago.” Gone, the promise to return every weekend. He had known it would be like this, but she had so ardently denied it. And now she suddenly sounded so callous and so different. It was hard to believe she had actually cried with him before she left. Now she sounded like a casual acquaintance, calling to say hi, instead of his wife of eighteen years, having just moved to a hotel near Boston. “I thought we ought to give everyone time to adjust. After last week, I think we all need a breather.” That was why she had left them in the first place, for a “breather.”

“And how long will that be?” He hated himself for pressing her, but he found that he couldn't help it. “A week? A month? A year? I think the children need to see you.”

“I need to see them too. But I think we ought to give it a few weeks, give them a chance to settle down.” And what about me? He wanted to shout the words at her, but he didn't.

“They miss you a lot.” And so did he.

“I miss them too.” She sounded uncomfortable, as though she were anxious to get off. She couldn't stand the guilt of talking to him. “I just wanted to give you the address of my new apartment. I'll move in on Saturday, and as soon as I have a phone, I'll call you.”

“And in the meantime? What if there's an emergency with the children?” The very mention of it panicked him, but he had a right to know where she was. He needed to know, if only for his own sake.

“I don't know. You can leave a message for me at the hotel. And after that, I guess you could send a telegram to that address if you had to. It shouldn't take me long to get a phone in.”