“Are you all right?” He sounded anxious and tense, and she instantly realized why. “I've been calling you all afternoon. Why didn't you answer the phone?” He had been desperately worried about her all day and he had been calling since noon and only getting the machine. He was frantic by seven o'clock when she finally got in9 and it had never dawned on him to call her office. Nor had she wanted to call him. She needed time to think about telling him she hadn't had the abortion.

“I wasn't here,” she said almost remorsefully, realizing that she had to make a quick shift of gears. She had come to terms with everything that was going on in their lives early that morning. But he had no idea what she'd done, and he still assumed that she had had the abortion.

“Where were you? Did they keep you at the doctor's all day? Did something go wrong?” He sounded frantic and she felt sorry for him, but she was also angry. He had been willing to let her go through with the abortion all alone, and he had tried to tell her it was no big deal, which it was, or would have been. And now she was still mad at him for it.

“Nothing went wrong.” There was a long pause, an endless silence, and she decided to tell him right away and not lead him on. “I didn't do it.”

There was an instant of silent disbelief and then he exploded into the phone. “What? Why not? Was something wrong with you that he couldn't?”

“Yes,” she said quietly as she sat down. She felt very old suddenly, and very tired, the emotions she had repressed all day suddenly rushed back at her and she felt drained as she listened to her husband. “Something was wrong. I didn't want to do it.”

“So you chickened out?” He sounded horrified, and now he was furious, too, which upset her even more and made her even more angry.

“If you want to put it that way. I decided I wanted to have our child. Most people would be flattered by that, or pleased, or something a little more human.” But they both knew he wasn't human on this subject.

“I don't happen to be one of them, Adrian. I'm not touched … or flattered … I think you're a fool. And I think you're doing it to try to get at me in someway, but I've got news for you, I'm not going to let you do it.”

“What are you talking about? You sound like a crazy person. This isn't a vendetta, for chrissake …it's a baby …you know, small person, made by you and me, blue and pink, cries occasionally. Most people can adjust to that, they don't act as though their lives are being threatened by a Mafia hit man.”

“Adrian, I'm not amused by your sense of humor.”

“And I am even less so by your sense of values. What is wrong with you? How could you leave me like this and just expect me to go out and get an abortion? It isn't the minor procedure you think it is, it isn't 'nothing.' It's something. It's a big something …and one of the reasons I didn't want to do it is because I love you.”

“That's bullshit and you know it.” He sounded threatened and cornered and extremely frightened by everything she had just said to him, and Adrian realized they weren't going to solve it on the phone, and possibly not even in the near future. He was just going to have to calm down, and see that the baby wasn't going to ruin his life. But first, they were both going to have to stop being angry.

“Why don't we talk about this calmly when you come home?” she said sensibly, but he was irate now.

“There's nothing to talk about. Unless you come to your senses and get an abortion. I'm not going to discuss anything with you until you do. Is that clear?” He was screaming at her in the phone and he sounded like a madman.

“Steven, stop it! Get a grip on yourself!” She spoke to him like a child who was out of control, but he was beyond being able to calm down. In his hotel room in Chicago, he was shaking with fury.

“Don't tell me what to do, Adrian. You betrayed me!”

“I did not betray you.” She almost laughed, he sounded so absurd, but the truth was, it wasn't funny. “It was an accident. I don't know how it happened or whose fault it was. It doesn't matter anymore. I'm not blaming you, or myself, or anyone. I just want to have the baby.”

“You're out of your mind, and you don't know what you're talking about.” He sounded like someone she didn't know, as she closed her eyes and tried to stay calm.

“At least I'm not hysterical. Why don't you just forget about it and we'll talk about it when you get home.”

“I have nothing more to say to you, until you take care of it.”

“What's that supposed to mean?” She opened her eyes again. There was something odd in his voice that she had never heard before, a kind of chill that frightened her, and she had to remind herself that this was only Steven.

“It means exactly what it sounds like. It's me or the baby. Get rid of it. Now. Adrian, I want you to go back to the doctor tomorrow and get an abortion.” A hand clutched her heart for a moment, and she wondered if he was serious, but she knew that he couldn't be. He couldn't make her choose between the baby or him, that was insane. And she knew he couldn't mean it.

“Sweetheart …please …don't be like this … I can't go back … I can't … I just can't do it.”

“You have to.” He sounded as though he were near tears and she wanted to put her arms around him and comfort him and tell him it was going to be all right. And one day, after the baby was born, he would laugh about how upset he had been at the beginning. But right now it was all he could think of. “Adrian, I don't want a baby.”

“You don't have one yet. Why don't you just relax, and forget about it for a couple of days.” She was feeling exhausted, but calmer about it ever since she had made her decision.

“I'm not going to relax until you get rid of it. I want you to have an abortion.” She sat there in silence, listening to him, for the first time in almost three years unable to give him what he wanted. Unable, and unwilling to, which upset him even more. And she just couldn't promise him that she would do as he told her.

“Steven …please …” Tears suddenly welled up in her eyes again, for the first time since that morning. “I can't. Can't you understand that?”

“All I understand is what you're doing to me. You are viciously and maliciously refusing to consider my feelings.” He remembered only too well how depressed his father got every time his mother had gotten pregnant again. He had held down two jobs for years, and finally he had three, until finally, mercifully, he was practically dead of cirrhosis. And by then all the children were gone anyway, and his life was over. “You don't care how I feel, Adrian. You don't give a damn about me. All you want is your goddam baby.” He was crying now, and Adrian wondered what she had done. She just didn't understand it. He had said he might be willing to have children eventually, when they were “well set,” but he had never said he hated them, he had never told her he absolutely wouldn't have them. “Well, you can have your baby, Adrian. You can have it …but you can't have me …” he sobbed into the phone, and she was crying too as she listened.

“Steven, please. …” But as she said the words he hung up, and the phone went dead as she held it. She couldn't believe how upset he had been, how frantic, and for the next two hours she tortured herself wondering if she should have the abortion. If it meant that much to him, if it threatened him so deeply, what right did she have to force him to have the baby? And yet what right did she have to kill the baby because a grown man couldn't cope with the prospect of being a father? Steven could adjust, he could learn to handle it, he would discover eventually that she didn't love him any less, perhaps she would love him more, and his life would not be over. She couldn't give the baby up, she reminded herself. She remembered again what it had been like going to the doctor and preparing to have the abortion, and she knew she just couldn't do it. She was going to have their baby, and Steven was just going to have to accept it. She would take full responsibility for it, all he had to do was sit back and relax and not let it make him completely crazy.

She was still telling herself that when she drove back to work at eleven o'clock. And when she got home after midnight she played back her machine to see if he had called, but he hadn't. And she was still upset about it the next day when she went to work and called his office and asked what plane he was coming in on, and it was perfect. He was due in at two o'clock, and she would have plenty of time to go to the airport and pick him up, and hopefully by that night everyone would have calmed down, and life could begin to get back to normal. As normal as it was going to be for a while anyway. Sooner or later they were going to have to make the ordinary adjustments to the fact that she was pregnant, the way other couples did, buying bassinets and building nurseries, and getting ready for their babies. Just the thought of it made her smile as she went back to work and forced herself not to think of Steven.

Everyone stood on the set and watched Sylvia get killed that afternoon. John visited her in jail, pretending to be her lawyer. “Vaughn” appeared to be utterly amazed when she saw him, and moments later, unseen by the guard who had left them alone in a holding cell, he had his hands around her neck, and she was dead. She made wonderful sounds as John strangled her. It was a great scene, and Bill was enormously pleased with all of them as he watched it. And then the moment came to say good-bye to Sylvia after they were off the air, and suddenly everyone was crying. She had been on the show for a year, and they were all going to miss her. She had been easy to work with, and even the other women liked her. The director had ordered champagne and they handed Bill a paper cup too, as he stood on the sidelines and watched as the soap opera seemed to become real, and Stanley stood there watching them all and feeling awkward. Eventually, Bill tried to slip away, but Sylvia saw him before he went and she went over to him quietly and said something no one else could hear, and he smiled and raised his glass to her, and then turned and raised it to Stanley.