"Nice," she replied. "Actually I expected him to be a little conceited, but he wasn't." She was careful to place the volumes with the front covers facing upward. So Gavin's photograph would not stare up to remind her of what almost happened yesterday.
"What did you have for dinner last night?" she asked, hoping her daughter would not notice the blatant shift of subject.
"We had fun."
"And what else?"
"Dad took us out for pizza. It was fun," and then, realizing her lapse in tact, she added, "Of course, it woulda been better if you were there too, Mom."
"Thanks." Sheila laughed and kissed her on the forehead. Just then the front door slammed.
"Mom, where are you?" Jessie shouted.
"In here, Jess. I just got back this instant—"
Jessica entered the room, her face flushed and sweating.
"What's the matter, honey?" Sheila asked.
"Is it true?'' Jessie demanded, her voice quavering.
"What?''
"Is it true about Daddy?"
"Uh—I don't know, Jessie." At least I hope I don't, she thought.
"Then it is true. I can see it on your face."
"What's going on?" inquired Paula, anxious to participate in the family crisis.
Jessie turned to Paula. "Davey told me that Jean-Claude is Daddy's sonr
"What? You're crazy!"
Paula was wide-eyed. She could not quite fathom what she was hearing but vaguely sensed that it was terrible.
"Please," said Sheila, frantically trying to preserve all of their sanity, "let me try to explain. . .."
Jessie turned angrily on her mother.
"First admit it's true. Tell me Dad is really Jean-Claude's—" She couldn't bring herself to say the word.
"Yes," Sheila said quietly, "it's true."
Now Paula began to cry.
"No." She shook her head. "It's some big lie. He's our daddy. He's oursr
Jessie exploded at her sister.
"Don't you understand, you little idiot? He had an affair with Jean-Claude's mother."
"What's an 'affair'?" said Paula, wanting desperately not to understand.
"He went to bed with her and made a baby," Jessie shouted.
Paula looked helplessly at her mother.
"Is Daddy gonna leave us?'' she asked, voicing her deepest fears.
Sheila took the two frightened girls in her arms. "It'll be all right," she murmured, hoping to make herself believe it.
"How could you let him come here," Jessie sobbed, "into our house?"
Just then the front door slammed again. They froze. And Jean-Claude, book in hand,'walked into the room.
"Good afternoon," he smiled. He was especially happy to see Sheila again.
"He's our daddy," Paula exploded at him. "He's ours, he's ours!"
Jean-Claude was confused.
"What do you mean, Paula?" he asked.
"Our daddy is your father, and you want to take him away," she screamed.
"But no—" Jean-Claude protested.
"I'll bet your goddam mother isn't even dead," snarled Jessica, wanting to hurt him. To make him go away. To rescind his very existence.
Paula rushed toward the boy and began to pummel him. He did not raise a hand to defend himself from her blows. For he was beginning to feel that he was, in some inexplicable way, guilty of a crime.
"Paula, stop hitting him this instant!"
Sheila rushed to pull the two children apart. Jean-Claude was crying softly. As soon as they were disengaged, he glanced fearfully at everyone and retreated, first tentatively, then more swiftly, up the stairs.
In a moment they heard the sound of his bedroom door closing.
Sheila looked at her traumatized daughters. This was all Bob's fault. They were innocent victims
whose lives had just been permanently disfigured by the shrapnel of his infidelity.
And I was wrong too, she thought with anguish. I made the wrong decision. Now I see that I was only thinking of myself.
Just then a car pulled up outside. It was Bemie, dropping Bob off from their tennis match. Sheila watched her husband leap out, wave to his friend and start toward the house.
"It's Daddy," Sheila said. As if they hadn't sensed it from her face.
"Fll never speak to him again!" cried Jessica, who turned and started quickly for the stairs.
"Me either," Paula added, following her sister, leaving Sheila all alone.
She sighed as she watched her husband stride closer and closer.
She heard the door swing open.
"Sheila honey?"
"Fm in here, Robert," she said quietly. And knew she sounded like a stranger.
±HEY SAT FACING ONE ANOTHER.
"How did she find out?'' Bob as"ked.
''I don't know. Did you tell Bernie?"
He lowered his head. "Yeah."