He looked up and looked away. He wasn’t even going to challenge me.

“If you don’t leave her alone, she’s going to turn her back on you entirely.”

No answer.

“The Frankenstein monster turned on his creator.”

“I don’t think that’s amusing.”

“It’s not supposed to be. She’s growing up and you had better start accepting that. You always wanted her to have everything, but now that she’s found something she wants, it seems you’re going out of your way to sabotage it. I don’t understand it.”

“I’m not sabotaging anything. I’m simply concerned.”

“I’m concerned, but I’m not playing interrogator.”

He said nothing. He wasn’t going to talk. But I knew how to get a reaction from him.

“If we had had the baby, you might not be so preoccupied with running Regina’s life.”

“I’m not running her life.” Then: “I’m sorry about the baby, you know that.”

“No, I don’t know that. Maybe losing it was a blessing. Maybe you wouldn’t have had enough love to give it.”

“That’s a rotten thing to say.”

“I can’t help feeling it’s the truth. But since it’s not here, it doesn’t matter, does it? What does matter is Regina. And you. You’re going to be very unhappy if you don’t let her grow up on her own. A five-year-old or a ten-year-old may enjoy being coddled, but Regina is sixteen. She doesn’t want you that way anymore.”

He sat staring at the floor. There was no point in going on.

“I’m going to bed,” I said. “Are you coming?”

“Later.”

As I walked past him, he reached out and grabbed my wrist. “Irene, please be patient with me.”

“It’s not my patience you have to worry about. It’s Regina’s.”

Within three weeks’ time, Virgil Evans was bringing Regina home from school every day. He would stay for an hour, drive off, then return around nine o’clock, after Regina had finished her homework. We let them have the recreation room to themselves until ten-thirty. They went out every Friday and Saturday, and Virgil always had her home by 1 a.m., her curfew time.

There was absolutely nothing in the boy for Frank to criticize. He was bright, personable, considerate, and had a sharp, mature sense of humor. But I could see that Frank was looking for something to criticize. Quietly, he watched the boy like an apprehensive cat, and I found myself watching him watch.

I can’t say exactly when Frank’s nightmares began. I can only say when I first noticed them, between Thanksgiving and Christmas. Several times I awakened to find him thrashing and gritting his teeth. One night he fell right out of bed. When I questioned him about the nightmares, he said he didn’t remember them. But the one I remember—will always remember—woke me early one Sunday morning. There was a mumbling which slowly shaped itself into words, and I heard “Regina, come back.” I heard it twice. I rolled over and saw him twitch and open his eyes. In a daze, he looked right at me and said, “She’s going.” He then closed his eyes and went back to sleep. I got up, sat in the rocker and smoked cigarettes. He slept fitfully for another two hours.