She was no longer crying, no longer screaming with the pain of her loss. She was numb, now; after the ambulance ride, after the session at the hospital with the doctors and the paperwork—how could they bother with paperwork at a time like that?—after the call to Rod, missing him by minutes. They’d left a policeman at her home, the nurses told her, patting her hand. The policeman would tell him. He would come soon, to help her with all this.

But he never came, and she stumbled through it all alone. Thank God Mrs. Nebles had said she would take care of Ryan and Jill. Thank God the paramedics had reminded her to bring her purse. What she couldn’t remember was in the papers she kept in her purse.

Insurance. Why? she had wanted to scream. People to notify. Recounting it all to the police.

Still Rod did not come.

Surely he would come and take her home.

But he didn’t come, and finally the nurses took pity on her and called the neighbor who had Ryan and Jill, asked Mrs. Nebles to keep the kids overnight, then sent her home with another policeman rather than a taxi. They probably didn’t trust her to remember what her own address was. …

Rod’s car was in the driveway; she walked up to the silent, darkened house, still numb, not knowing what she was going to say to him. Suddenly, she was afraid for him—how could he be expected to bear up under this? Rod was his image, his golden child! He must be half insane; no wonder he hadn’t come to the hospital!

She pulled open the door—and there he was, staring at her. She opened her mouth, the tears starting again.

But as it happened, he didn’t give her a chance to say anything.

He simply dragged her inside, face full of—not the grief she had expected, but silent fury. He dragged her into the living room, to the spot in front of the TV, where Rod had died. He shoved her down on her knees on the spot where he had lain.

He screamed at her, as she knelt there, unable to move or think. Screamed at her that this was all her fault—she was a slut, a whore, an unfit mother—she had caused Rod’s death, to make way for her own favored brats, who were probably bastards by some fancy gigolo, conceived while he was hard at work, trying to make a decent life for them all—

Then, when she didn’t respond except for silent tears, he hit her.