I'm like them, she thought. I never knew it before, but I am. There are lots of us. People hate us or make fun of us—or else they're sorry for us, that's the worst of all. Why? Why is it anybody's business?

She was sure now that she would never find a job. Two strikes against me already, she thought miserably. The employment records, all the places I've left without giving notice—and now this. They can tell.

Even if I got something, it wouldn't last. I thought maybe it would. Maybe things would be different this time. But it would be the same old story over again. What's the use?

Ahead of her reached an endless line of days, plodding from place to place looking for work, meeting that look everywhere she went. That bored, amused look people turn on those who are different.

Erika, help me.

Erika was in a classroom she had never seen, teaching music appreciation to a lot of tone-deaf kids who wanted to get home and watch television. Forcing order on a roomful of adolescents in return for a miserly check at the end of the month. She stood in the middle of the sidewalk, letting herself think about Erika. Her easy walk, her gentle hands, her warm mouth, her sudden passion. But out here in the busy light of day, with other people around, she couldn't make it seem real. She began walking briskly.

The clock on the bank said ten forty-three. More than five hours until the school day was over. She couldn't live that long.

Maybe if I had a drink, she thought. Just one little drink. When you're home with a bottle you can't stop, you keep pouring more because it's there and handy. But if you go into a bar and order one drink, nothing can happen.

It sounded good, but one fact stood in the way: she was afraid to go into a bar and order a drink. Someone she knew might see her. She might get out of control somehow. The terrible crying might start or the black unreality cover her before she could get safely on the other side of a locked door. No amount of reasoning could change the way she felt. She was simply not capable of going into a tavern like anybody else, of sitting down and ordering a drink.

There was a chain drugstore on the corner, one wall plumply lined with bottles. She walked slowly in that direction, mentally adding Erika's dollar bill to the change in her pocket

CHAPTER 10

“Never mind, darling. It had to happen some time."

She was no longer able to control her face. She felt it growing sullen and heavy, as though it were made of something denser than flesh. "I said I'm sorry."

"Don't ever say sorry to me. Sorry does no good."

"Are you angry at me?"

Erika shrugged. "Hurt yes. But not surprised, because I knew it would happen sooner or later. This is sooner."