Jack guided her to a barstool. “Oh, they’re friendly enough. They know you wouldn’t be here if you weren’t gay. They figure, you leave them alone and they’ll leave you alone.” Laura looked around her uncomfortably. “I can’t help thinking I embarrass them.” “Maybe they embarrass you. Would you rather go over to The Cellar?” “No ... I don’t know.” “You don’t want to run into Beebo. She’s usually out making the rounds about now. That’s why I brought you here.” Laura smiled gratefully at him. “Thanks,” she said. “I should have seen it myself.” But she found herself so shaken by the sudden idea of Beebo loose among scores of desirable girls that she couldn’t concentrate for a minute. Jack ordered them a drink. Then he turned to her, pushing his glasses back into place on his nose. They tended to slide down to the halfway mark. “Well?” he said, and paused. “Let’s tear Papa Landon apart.” “I don’t want to talk about him,” Laura said. “Then why am I buying you a drink?” She turned to snap at him and then saw he was kidding her. “Sorry, Jack,” she said. Looking at him brought back her faith in him, and she smiled a little. “I always knew he was a hard man,” she said softly, “but I never dreamed he’d go as far as this. I always thought, in spite of everything, in spite of all the bitterness and misery we’ve had together, that he must love me a little. After all, I’m all he has left ... of my mother, my brother ... his family. I was five when it happened, and I wish to God I could remember what he was like before. But I can’t. I like to pretend he was generous and gentle and kind. And I can remember sitting on his shoulders when we went to a Fourth of July parade. It was that same summer, before our vacation. I remember he hoisted me up and bought me a balloon and held me while the parade went by so I could see. Afterwards he walked around and talked to his friends, and he didn’t make me get down. I felt like a queen on a throne. It’s been my one good memory of him, to this day. But Mother was with us. Maybe he did it for her sake. “I remember her better than him from those years. Sometimes I miss her terribly. She was very loving.” “Maybe,” said Jack, “your father wouldn’t hate you so now if he hadn’t loved you so much before.” “You give him too much credit,” she said. “After what he did to me tonight, I’ll never speak to him again. I’d kill him if I could. But I wouldn’t go near him, even for that. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing my face. He has no daughter, has he? All right, God damn him, I have no father! Two can play at that game.” “Don’t hate me for saying it,” Jack said, “but I think you still love him. I think you’ll see him again.” She turned on him. “You’re crazy!” she said. “You don’t know anything! What makes you think such a thing?” He shrugged. “Only that it matters so terribly to you.”