“Dad! Helen!” She went into her father’s bedroom and found no one. She pushed open the door to the bathroom frightened she’d find them both headfirst in the bathtub.

Now racing through the apartment, she opened the door to the terrace and found Abraham nude on the porch.

“Dad! Dad!” She took him under the arm.

“Mommy. Mommy.” He looked at her.

“Dad, it’s me, Frankie. Where’s Helen?”

“Mommy, it’s cold.”

Frankie brought her father inside and wrapped a blanket around him.

“Mommy. That hurts!”

“What hurts?” Frankie asked him.

“It hurts.”

Frankie touched his arm. “Tell me what hurts. Does this hurt?” Frankie ran her hands up and down his ribs.

“Mommy, it hurts.”

“How about this?” Frankie touched his leg.

“Stop!” he screamed at her.

“What are you doing to him?” Helen walked into the room.

“He says he’s in pain,” Frankie snapped at her, not mentioning that she suspected a possible recurrence of prostate cancer that was operated on ten years ago.

“He doesn’t know if he’s in pain or not.” Helen stared at her with terrified eyes.

“Helen, he’s in pain. Where were you?”

“I went downstairs to get the laundry. Our machine is broken and I can’t get anyone here to fix it on the weekend.”

“You shouldn’t leave him alone.” Frankie lowered her voice with a professional chill. “That’s completely irresponsible. He was out naked on the goddamn porch. Helen, I’m getting you help.”

“I don’t want you coming here and telling us what to do!” Helen slammed the porch door shut.

“Mommy! Mommy!” Abraham looked at Helen and she took his hand.

“Yes, baby. Mommy’s here. Everything’s going to be fine.” Helen kissed his forehead like a baby. “Why did you go out of the house? Mommy told you not to go outside.”

“Mommy.” Abraham put his head on her shoulder. “It hurts.”

“C’mon, honey. Mommy will get you dressed.”

Helen sat Abraham down and began to slowly put on his pajamas like he was four years old. She pulled each pant leg up slowly and whispered, “Pull your tushy up, honey, so Mommy can get the rest up. That’s right.” Helen turned to Frankie. “I don’t want to lose him. He’s my life.”

Helen began to cry as she gently pulled his pant leg over his thigh. “I know if you take him to a doctor they’ll start shooting him up with God knows what. He doesn’t deserve to be in pain.”

Frankie watched as Helen buttoned his top.

“Don’t take this personally, Frankie, but I really hate doctors. Even the supposedly good ones like you.”

When Helen finished dressing Abraham she sat him down in front of the television between Frankie and herself.