“Women and gay boys. Do you think some pretty twenty-year-old is going to fall for a fat bald, middle-aged bastard with not even a bankroll to offer? I’m ugly, Mother. That’s enough of a handicap. When I start looking old, I’ll quit.” “You’re not ugly, Jack,” she said gently, trying to console him. But he took it with a sardonic laugh. “Only a Mother could love me,” he said. “Don’t talk like this. You make me so sad.” “Ahhh, Christ,” he said, and drank. He looked up at Laura, and she could see he wasn’t focusing very well now. “I came here to talk about you anyway, not me. What did your father do to you when you were five years old?” Laura started. “When did I say that? Did I mention my father?” she asked. “Yes. In The Cellar. Probably as good a place as any.” “I—I didn’t mean _my_ father,” she said. “Don’t fib to me, Laura. Let’s be friends.” After a few moments, she said, “I can’t talk about it, Jack.” “What did he do?” “We—we were at a summer resort.” It began to spill out of her. Jack had bared his anguish, and she felt suddenly safe with him, and needed. “We were there for a vacation one summer. We went fishing on the lake—Father and Mother and my brother and me.” Her voice grew soft as she spoke. “The boat capsized. I was the only one he could save. I was the closest to him. Mother and Rod drowned.” She shut her eyes with a little gasp against the old horror, still so sharp in her heart, like a big ugly needle stuck there to remind her she had no right to be alive. “All my life I’ve felt as if I killed them. He says I did. He hates me because I’m not his son. He hates me because I’m not my own mother, his wife.” Jack seemed completely sober for a minute, staring at her with his brows knit. She put her head down and cried quietly. “That’s all,” she said. “I can’t tell you any more.” “You don’t need to,” he said softly. “Jesus.” She took a deep breath and sat up, feeling as if she had lightened the weight of that leaden secret by sharing it. She was somewhat surprised to find that she was able to share it. She felt very close to Jack, as if they were now truly friends. Each of them had risked a little of himself to the other. And neither, now, was sorry. With a sigh, she looked at her watch. It was getting late. “I have to get up early,” she said, her voice still unsteady. “So do you. I know, Burr’s always yelling about the hours. Let’s go.” “One more,” he said, holding up his glass. “I’m not quite through with you yet.” “I don’t get it,” Laura said to him. “We don’t even know each other. This is the second time we’ve seen each other. And here we are talking like old friends.” “You’re wrong, Laura. We know each other a lot better than some people who’ve been acquainted for years. Like Burr and Marcie. We know each other instinctively, don’t you feel that? I wouldn’t have called you otherwise. You wouldn’t have let me drag you out tonight otherwise.”