They would sit and talk and he would make her laugh. Claire was normally quiet, often subdued. She spoke with a soft voice. But when he got her going, when he worked in all her favorite routines from stupid movies, Claire would laugh so hard she'd start to cry. Myron wouldn't stop. He loved her laugh. He loved to see the pure joy when she let go like that . Claire stared at him. Every once in a while you try to trace your life back to a time like that, when everything was so good. You try to go back and figure out how it started and the path you'd taken and how you ended up here, if there was a moment you could go back to and somehow alter and poof, you wouldn't be here, you'd be someplace better . Tell me, Claire said . He did. He started with the party at his house, overhearing Aimee and Erin in the basement, the promise, the late-night phone call. He went through it all. He told her about the stop at the gas station. He even told her about Aimee talking about how things weren't great with her parents . Claire's posture stayed rigid. She said nothing. There was a quake near her lips. Every once in a while she would close her eyes. There would be a slight wince, as if she spotted a coming blow but was unwilling to defend herself from it . Neither spoke when he finished. Claire did not ask any follow-up questions. She just stood there and looked very frail. Myron took a step toward her, but he could see right away it was the wrong move . You know I'd never hurt her, he said . She did not reply . Claire?Do you remember that time we met up at Little Park by the circle?Myron waited a beat. We met up there a lot, Claire . A t the playground. Aimee was three years old. The Good Humor truck came along. You bought her a Toasted Almond Fudge . Which she hated . Claire smiled. You remember?I do . Do you remember what I was like that day?He thought about it. I don't know what you're trying to get at . A imee didn't know her limits. She would try everything. She wanted to go on that high slide. There was a big ladder. She was too young for it. Or at least that's what I thought. She was my first child. I was so afraid all the time. But I couldn't stop her. So I let her climb the ladder, but I would stay right behind her, remember? You made a crack about it . He nodded . Before she was born, I swore I'd never be one of those overprotective parents. Swore it. But Aimee is climbing up this ladder and I'm right behind her, my hands poised behind her butt. Just in case. Just in case she slipped because wherever you are, even someplace as innocent as a playground, all a parent imagines is the worst.