Harry looked sad for a long moment and then shook his head. He needed something, but it was nothing they had to give. The gift of his legs. And his father understood and gently touched his arm.

“See you tomorrow, Son.”

“Good night.” Harry's greeting to his father wasn't warm, but his eyes lit up when he looked at the beautiful blonde. “Behave yourself, Tan.”

“Why should I? You don't.” She grinned and blew him a kiss, as she whispered, “Merry Christmas, asshole.” He laughed and she followed his father out into the hall.

“I thought he looked better, didn't you?” They were becoming friends over the disaster that had befallen his son.

“I did. I think he's over the worst. Now it's just going to be a long, slow climb back uphill.” Harrison nodded, and they took the elevator downstairs again. There was a familiarity to it now, as if they had done this dozens of times before, when actually it had only been once. But their talk that afternoon had brought them much closer, and Harrison held the door open for her now, as she saw that the same silver limousine was there.

“Would you like something to eat?”

She started to say no and then realized that she hadn't had dinner yet. She had been thinking about going to midnight mass, but she didn't really want to go alone. She looked at him, wondering if it would mean something to him, too, particularly now.

“I might. Could I interest you in midnight mass afterwards?”

He looked very serious as he nodded his head, and Tana was struck once again by how handsome he was. They went out for a quick hamburger, and chatted about Harry, and their Cambridge days. She told Harrison some of the more outrageous things they'd done and he laughed with her, still puzzled by the odd relationship they shared. Like Jean, he couldn't quite figure them out. And then they went off to midnight mass, and tears streamed down Tana's cheeks as they sang Silent Night, she was thinking of Sharon, her beloved friend, and Harry and how lucky he was to be alive, and when she glanced over at his father, standing tall and proud at her side, she saw that he was crying too. He discreetly blew his nose when they sat down, and as he took her back to Berkeley afterwards, she noticed how comfortable it was just being with him. She was almost dozing as they rode along. She was desperately tired.

“What are you doing tomorrow?”

“Seeing Harry, I guess. And one of these days I've got a lot of studying to do.” She had all but forgotten it in the past few days.

“Could I take you to lunch before you go to the hospital?” She was touched that he would ask, and she accepted, worrying instantly what she should wear as soon as she stepped out of the car, but she didn't even have time to think of it when she got back to her room. She was so exhausted that she peeled off her clothes, dropped them on the floor, climbed into bed, and was instantly dead to the world. Unlike her mother in New York, who had been awake, sitting lonely in a chair and crying all night. Tana had not called, nor had Arthur in Palm Beach, and she had spent the entire night wrestling with the darker side of her soul, contemplating something she would never have thought she would do.

She had gone to midnight mass, as she and Tana used to do, and at one thirty she came home, and watched a little late night TV.

By two o'clock the most desperate loneliness she had ever felt in her life had set in. She was riveted to her seat, unable to move, almost unable to breathe. And for the first time in her life, she began to think of committing suicide, and by three o'clock it was an almost impossible urge to resist. Half an hour later, she went into her bathroom and got out a bottle of sleeping pills she never used, and trembling, she forced herself to put them down. She wanted to take them more than she had ever wanted to do anything in her life, and at the same time she did not. She wanted someone to stop her, to tell her everything would be all right. But who could tell her that now? Tana was gone, and would probably never live at home again, and Arthur had his own life, he only included her when it suited him, and never when she needed him. Tana was right about that, but it hurt her too much to admit it to her. Instead she defended everything he did, and his miserable selfish kids, that bitch Ann, who was always so rude to her, and Billy, he had been so sweet as a boy, but now … he seemed to be drunk all the time, and Jean wondered if Tana was right, if he wasn't the kind of young man she had always thought he was, but if that was true … the memory of what Tana had said four years before came crashing down on her now. What if it were true … ? if he had … if she hadn't believed … it was almost more than she could bear … it was as if her whole life were crashing in on her tonight and she couldn't bear it, as she sat staring longingly at the pills she held in her hand. It seemed the only thing left to do, and she wondered what Tana would think when they called her in California to tell her the news. She wondered who would find her body … the superintendent maybe … one of her co-workers … if they waited for Arthur to find her it could take weeks. It was even more depressing to realize that there wasn't even anyone left who would discover her soon. She thought of writing Tana a note, but that seemed so melodramatic and there was nothing left to say, except how much she had loved her child, how hard she had tried. She cried as she thought of Tana growing up, the tiny apartment they had shared, meeting Arthur, hoping that he would marry her … her whole life seemed to be flashing before her eyes as she clutched the vial of sleeping pills, and the night ground agonizingly by. She didn't even know what time it was when the phone finally rang. It was five A.M., and Jean was shocked when she saw the clock. She wondered if it was Tana, maybe her friend had died … with a shaking hand, she lifted the phone, and at first she didn't recognize the voice that identified itself as John.

“John?”

“John York. Ann's husband. We're in Palm Beach.”

“Oh. Of course.” But she was still stunned, and the emotions of the night had left her drained. She quietly set down the bottle of pills, she could attend to them afterwards. She couldn't understand why they would be calling her, but John York was quick to explain.

“It's Arthur. Ann thought I should call. He's had a heart attack.”

“Oh, my God.” She could feel her heart pound in her breast, and she was suddenly crying into the phone. “Is he all right? Is he … did…”

“He's all right now. But it was pretty bad for a while. It happened a few hours ago, and it's still touch and go, which is why Ann thought I should call.”

“Oh, my God … oh, my God…” Here she had been thinking of taking her own life, and Arthur had almost died. What if she had … she almost shuddered at the thought. “Where is he now?”

“At Mercy Hospital. Ann thought you might want to come down.”

“Of course.” She jumped to her feet, still holding the phone, grabbed a pencil, a pad, knocking over the vial of pills, and as they fell to the floor, she stood looking at them. She was herself again. It was incredible to think what she might have done, and he needed her now. Thank God she hadn't done it after all. “Give me the details, John. I'll catch the next plane.” She scribbled the name and address of the hospital, jotted his room number down, asked if there was anything they would need, and a moment later set down the phone, closed her eyes, thinking of him, and when she opened them there were tears on her cheeks, thinking of Arthur, and what might have been.





“And you really think Harry could do something like that?”