“No,” Jenna said, feeling the tiniest twinge of regret. “But let’s move on.” She felt uncomfortable talking about herself even when she pretended to be talking about someone else.

O

At a newsstand, Jenna picked up her latest ration of tabloids, although recently she’d found it easier to track Malik through the business pages of respect- able newspapers and magazines, where she’d read of the leveraged buyout of a British automaker and the purchase of a German movie-theater empire.

A different kind of story caught her eye. An unemployed Syrian had killed his estranged wife and fled with their children, apparently back to the Middle East. It was a terrifying reminder of how deadly a determined man could be. Even an ordinary man without the kind of power Ali possessed. Jenna didn’t want to think about it—no more of that tonight. She hurried home, slipped a blank tape into the VCR, and settled in her favorite chair.

The phone rang. Jenna hesitated for a moment, then picked up the receiver with a sigh. The caller was Toni Ferrante who, after years of intermittent therapy and emotional struggle, had divorced her husband. “I’m sorry to call you at home,” she said. “I know this number is supposed to be for emergencies. But, Jenna, I don’t know how long I can go on like this.” Her voice broke, and Jenna could hear her pain. “I thought to myself: ‘Maybe this weekend I’ll finally tell the boys I’m gay. And maybe they’ll try to understand because they love me.’ But today, they came home from school talking about fags and dykes in the crudest, ugliest way. And I knew I’d just been trying to kid myself. They won’t understand if I tell them I’m one of those dykes. They’ll hate me.”

Jenna said nothing.

“Tell me I’m wrong, Jenna. Please.”

Jenna sighed. “I can’t, Toni. You’re an intelligent woman. You know the boys will be angry. Maybe they’ll even think they hate you for a while. But …”

“But what? They’ll get past that? They’ll love me the way they do now?” “You know better than that. Nothing stays the same. But what’s the alter- native? You’re miserable now.”

“I know you’re disappointed in me, Jenna.”

“This isn’t about pleasing me. It’s your life, Toni. I just want to help you live it the best way you know how.”

“And honesty is the best way.” “You said that, I didn’t.”

There was a long silence. “I’ll see,” Toni said heavily. “I’ll just have to see if I can find the courage.”

“I’d be happy to schedule a family counseling session if you need one,” Jenna offered. But she hung up feeling like a hypocrite. How could she urge Toni to be honest when she’d been lying to her own son for years?

O