“I just thought maybe …if I rolled over … or touched you …” He was treating her like a piece of glass instead of a woman, and he seemed to go from one extreme to the other. One minute he wanted to pretend there was no problem at all, and the next he wanted to go to the ends of the earth to avoid her. It was more than a little distressing.

“You won't hurt me, Sam,” she said quietly, trying to reassure him. But he slipped into bed as though there were a land mine on her side of it and he was afraid to set it off. He lay there stiffly on the edge of the bed, keeping as far away from her as he could. And doing that made her feel like a pariah.

“Are you all right?” he asked her nervously before he turned out the light. “Do you want anything?”

“I'm fine.” Or at least she wished she were, and she was certainly fine enough to sleep beside him. But it was obvious that he didn't want to. Eventually, he fell asleep clinging to the edge of the bed, as Alex watched him. It was as though, with the absence of one breast, overnight they had become strangers. And once he was asleep, she lay in bed and cried, pining for her husband.

He woke up on Saturday long before she stirred, and by the time she got up, and changed her bed jacket for the dressing gown again, he and Annabelle were dressed and tailing about going to Central Park to fly a new kite he had bought her.

“Want to come?” he asked hesitantly, but she shook her head. She was still very tired, and it would be easier to wait for them at the apartment.

“I'll wait here. Maybe Annabelle and I can make cookies when you come home,” she said, trying to be entertaining.

“Yum!” Annabelle announced. She liked both plans. The cookies and the kite. And she and Sam went out half an hour later, with their kite, in high spirits. He had hardly spoken to Alex since she got up, it was as though now that she was back in the apartment, she was a real threat to him. He was even less communicative than he had been when she was in the hospital. It was very unnerving.

They came home for lunch, and Alex made them soup and sandwiches. Carmen had gone home for a few hours, and Alex insisted she didn't need her, but she said she'd come back anyway. She wanted to be there to help Alex.

Annabelle explained excitedly that they had flown the kite really high for a while, near the model-boat pond, and then it had flown into a tree, and Daddy had to climb way up to get it.

“Well, not as ‘way up' as all that,” he confessed, looking amused. They'd had a good time. And they'd bought chestnuts and pretzels.

Alex had done her hair while they were gone, and she had dressed. She was wearing a full sweater and jeans, and you almost couldn't see anything of what had happened to her. You barely saw the swell of either breast in the oversized sweater. But Annabelle noticed it later when she was sitting on Alex's lap and leaning against her.

“Your hurt boobie has gotten smaller, Mommy,” she said, staring at her chest as though she was surprised. “Did it fall off when you got bumped?”

“Kind of.” She smiled, trying to retain her composure. It had to be discussed eventually and now was as good a time as any. Better sooner than later. Sam was in the other room, and he looked a little startled when he came back and heard what they were saying.

“Will it look different when you take the bandage off? Is it all gone?” Annabelle looked amazed that a part of her mother had actually disappeared. She looked more than puzzled.

“Maybe. I haven't looked yet.”

“Could it just fall off?”

She didn't want to frighten her or mislead her. “No, it couldn't. But it got pretty hurt. That's why they gave me the big bandage.”

“How did it happen?” Annabelle looked surprised at what had happened to her mother on her trip, but Sam looked annoyed at her. Fortunately, Annabelle left the room to get a game, and forgot to listen to the answer to her question, for which Alex was very grateful, because she didn't have one. “How did it happen?” was one question she didn't want to answer.

But Sam had been listening and he didn't like the subject of their conversation.

“Why did you have to explain it to her? Why does this have to be a topic of conversation with her? She's three and a half years old for chrissake. She doesn't need this.” Neither did he, and he was almost fifty.

“Neither do I, Sam, but we're stuck with it anyway. And she asked me. She was sitting on my lap, and she felt the difference.”

“Don't sit her on your lap then. There are plenty of ways around it.”

“So I've noticed. You seem to be finding all of them.” He was avoiding her at every turn, and later that afternoon, he said that he had to go to the office, which surprised Alex. He rarely ever went there on the weekend. But she knew why he was doing it now. He just couldn't stand being near her.

Alex and Annabelle stayed home, making cookies and watching Peter Pan and The Little Mermaid. It was three o'clock by the time he left and the atmosphere between them was so tense that Alex thought it was just as well he'd gone out for a while. She really couldn't stand the tension. The air between them was electric.

“Why is Daddy mad at you?” Annabelle asked as they cut cookie dough, and Alex was astonished at the question.

“What makes you think Daddy's mad at me?” she asked, intrigued by the little girl's perception.

“He's not talking to you. Unless he has to.”

“Maybe he's just tired,” Alex explained, rolling out some more dough while Annabelle picked up big chunks and ate them.

“He missed you while you were away. So did I,” she said gravely. “Maybe he's mad at you for going.”

“Maybe so,” Alex agreed, unwilling to bring their daughter into their problems. “I'll bet he'll be fine when he comes home.” She kissed the tip of her freckled nose, and handed her another lump of cookie dough to munch on.

But sitting in his office downtown, Sam was looking glum. He had very little work to do. His work required people and clients, and deals to make. He didn't have the kind of avalanche of paperwork that Alex constantly lived with. And he had come to the office merely to escape, and now that he was here he felt stupid. He was running away from her, and he knew it. But he was afraid to see her body now, or her pain, afraid that he couldn't live up to what she wanted. It was so much easier to be angry at her, and hard on her, and avoid her.

“What are you doing here?” He heard a voice from across the room and jumped a foot as he looked up. He had been absolutely certain there was no one else in the office. The alarm had been on, and the watchman downstairs didn't tell him anyone was there. She must have just come in. It was Daphne. She was wearing a tight black jersey shirt and a pair of black leggings that made her legs seem endless. Her hair was in a long braid, and she was wearing little black suede boots that looked very English.

“I thought you were in Vermont,” he said, still looking very startled.

“I was supposed to be. But Simon got the flu, and his friends didn't want to go without him, so we stayed here. And I thought I'd use the opportunity to catch up on some work. I hope you don't mind, Sam. I didn't mean to intrude. You looked a million miles away when I saw you.” She said it sympathetically, and she looked very young and very sexy as she stood in the middle of his office. “How are things going?”

“Not so great, I guess, or I wouldn't be here,” he said honestly, as he stretched his legs out under his desk and played with a pencil. It was odd how he could say anything to her, and nothing to Alex. He stood up and walked over to her then. “I don't even know why I came in.” He looked at her unhappily, and then he smiled. “Maybe I just had a sixth sense you'd be here.”

“That's not worthy of you,” she teased, “but I'll accept it anyway. Can I make you a cup of coffee?”

“Sure, I'd like that.” He followed her into their pantry, faintly aware of her perfume. It smelled musky and warm and sexy. “I'm sorry,” he said suddenly as she turned to look at him, “I've been acting like a lunatic this week. I don't know if I'm up or down or sideways. It's been hell, and I have no right to take it out on you.”

“If having dinner with me at Le Cirque, and taking me dancing downtown is ‘taking it out on me,' then please feel free to do so anytime you'd like, Sam.” She smiled at him enticingly, but there was more than just sex appeal to her, there was something very warm and sympathetic. She was mischievous and playful, but she seemed very caring too, and he liked that about her. There were so many things about her that reminded him of the best of Alex. And then she turned his stomach over with the bluntness of her next question. Her voice was very soft as she looked at him, but he wasn't prepared for what she asked him. “Is your wife dying, Sam?”

For a long moment he wasn't sure how to answer her. “She could be. I don't know. She's very sick, I suppose, although I don't completely understand it.”

“Is it cancer?”

He nodded. “She had a breast removed this week, and she's about to start chemotherapy.”

“How difficult for you, and your little girl.” All her sympathies were with them, and not with Alex.

“I suppose it is … or it will be …Chemotherapy sounds like a nightmare. I'm not sure I'd do it.”

“That's what we all say, until we're faced with it, and then we fight like dogs and try anything we can, to cure it. My father died last year, and he tried everything including some sort of magic pills he got in Jamaica that were nothing but voodoo. I can't blame her for trying. But it's hell on you. Poor Sam.” They were standing in the small airless room while the coffee brewed, and her voice was barely more than a whisper.