That was all I could get out of him, and that wasn’t very much. It wasn’t that I expected him to go overboard and tell me everything, but I couldn’t even tell whether he REALLY liked her, or whether he was just trying to keep me quiet.

But he did like her after all because they got married in September. And it seemed like no time at all before she was plodding around the house pregnant. Even after they were married, he didn’t say much to her. It might be he didn’t want to be mushy with everybody watching. But I think it’s nice to have someone tell you he loves you in front of everybody. He didn’t though; he didn’t say anything.

So then I went back to MISS BINFORD’S and I guess that was about the time my parents started to get along really badly. Not that they argued in front of us. In fact, I doubt if they argued at all. It was much beyond that. It was that gradually, going back as far as I can remember, they kept saying less and less to each other until the time came—this is the time I’m talking about—that they didn’t say anything at all to each other…except maybe at night when I guess married people feel most alone, when they realize how little they have in common, and how much they’ve lost.

I don’t think trouble came to them out of nowhere. I think it was there all along, but they didn’t have time to think about it because they were raising Dewey and me. But now that we were mostly grown up, they didn’t have so much to do to hide the trouble behind and it started to show, to come out.

I’d hear them sometimes at night. I’d be going by to the bathroom and hear them, and I’d stop at the door and listen. I guess that’s nosy, but when your parents are having trouble, you can’t go by and put on your cold cream like nothing at all was the matter.

First I’d hear Mother say: “But why, David?” She’d sound very teary and maybe was already crying.

“I don’t know. There’s nothing you could understand.” He never raised his voice.

“But I used to understand. Didn’t I, David?”

There’d be a silence, and you could hear them shifting around. It wasn’t the sound of them making love. They were just trying to get to sleep. Then all at once Mother would say: “David? I love you.”

And he wouldn’t say anything.