“I don’t want to hear anything,” I whispered. “I want Regina. I want her now.”

“You’ll get Regina, but first you’ll hear me.” She sipped on the drink Virgil gave her, hesitated, then nodded approvingly. “Five minutes ago, you wanted the truth, so now you’re going to get it. First, I had to see how far you’d go, and you went far enough. Didn’t she, Frank?”

He was sitting on the steps with his head in his arms. He did not look up or answer.

“I had your number a long time ago,” she said, “that night before your wedding. I could tell you had your whole life set up like some goddam dance card. The first step was the big wedding, the big cake, the big degree from college sticking out all over your big smile. And you were big on manners too. You were so anxious to please, even when you saw how Frank felt about me. And later, when I came to see Regina when your friend here was with you—” Frank’s head snapped up and he looked at me with huge eyes that made me turn away. Vivian smiled at him. “That’s right, Frank, you didn’t know about that. Even back then, she was riding the fence.” She turned to me. “The truth is I am Frank’s mother. That night before your wedding I told him to tell you. And I told him again that day at the hospital when you took Regina home. But he’s always been stubborn and now he’s paying for it.”

“You don’t need to say anything more.” My stomach was filling up with disgust for both her and myself.

“Yes, I do, for your own benefit, so you’ll know what not to do when you get Regina back. You see, you’re going to have her for a very short time and I don’t want you tampering with her. She’s made her choice, the choice Frank should have made a long time ago. Instead, he chose to knock his head against a wall.” She turned to Frank. “And it hasn’t been worth it, has it, Frank? She doesn’t understand you, she never could understand you. You’re a different breed; it’s as simple as that. No matter how hard you try, no matter how many degrees you get, you’re still my son. You’re still one of us.”

“I’m going to be sick,” I mumbled. Gloria slipped her arm around my shoulders.

“You’re going to be sick? Well, go right ahead, because now you’ll know how I felt watching you and your little family at that wedding party dinner. You’ll know how you turned my stomach that night you let me in to see Regina and then again when we met at the restaurant. I know your kind, Irene. I grew up watching them. So smug in their position, so complacent with their dusted and simonized skeletons tucked away in their closets, so quick to point their fingers at someone else’s misfortunes. Stupidly, I was jealous of them until my father taught me not to be. He taught me they weren’t the only army in the world; we could make our own. And we have, haven’t we?”