“Billy raped me in his father's room.”

“Tana!” Jean Roberts looked horrified. “How can you say a thing like that? He would never do such a thing!” Her anger was at her own child, not at her lover's son. She couldn't believe a thing like that about Billy, and it was written all over her face as she glared at her only child. “That's a terrible thing to say.” It was a terrible thing to do. But Jean only stared at her.

Two lonely tears rolled relentlessly down Tana's cheeks. “He did.” Her face crumbled at the memory. “I … swear…” She was getting hysterical again as Jean turned and started the car, and this time she did not glance into the backseat again.

“I don't ever want to hear you say a thing like that again, about anyone.” Surely not someone they knew … a harmless boy they had known for half his life … she didn't even care to think about what would make Tana say a thing like that, jealousy perhaps of Billy himself, or Ann, or Arthur.… “I never want to hear you say that again. Is that clear?” But there was no answer from the backseat. Tana just sat there, looking glazed. She would never say it again. About anyone. Something inside her had just died.





“What kind of savages are all of you? I ought to be sending you to West Point instead of Princeton for chris-sake so they can teach you a thing or two about how to behave. My God, in my day, no one I'd ever known would behave like that. Did you see that carpeting? They tore the whole damn thing up.” Billy had looked both subdued and chagrined.