He saw her frown. “It’s so horrible, Joe. I have my memories of him, specific, solid, clear memories. We did things, went places. I told you that we flew down to the Caribbean. We enjoyed driving—we rarely talked in the car. He was a handsome man. I knew the way his fingernails were shaped. I can remember how he smelled and felt and how strong he was. These other things that I asked you to learn hurt and confused me on a level I don’t understand. It’s as if I never existed. He hid these things from me, so of course I played no part in them, but I feel conspicuous by my absence. Who was I to him? Don’t give me a pep talk. I was his wife and he loved me and I do know all that, but the things you’ve found out are like a new way of seeing something. I have to wonder if I’ve been blind. I have an excellent memory and I know just the way he was when he was with me. I have no doubt that he was being himself. Do you understand the way I feel?”

“He did do these other things,” he said.

“He loved me,” she said. “He forgot himself with me.”

“Maybe you’re learning how important you were.”

“Oh, yes. Important, but not important enough to live for.”

“That’s a particularly cruel thing to say even about yourself.”

She was quiet. Suddenly she threw her head back and looked at the ceiling she could not see.

“What is it?”

“I am really something. Oh, yes.”

“All right.”

“I’ve been thinking about a thing you said. You said that you found her appealing. Downstairs, when you were telling me what she told you, you went right over that.”

“Is that what makes you think you’re something?”

“No, no, of course not. I’ve caught you, haven’t I? What happened between you?”

“She was tense. Forget it.”

“You said something to me, too, you louse. In Wendell’s kitchen. Remember?”

“No.” He didn’t.

“You would fool around with me first. What a liar. I don’t even want to know what happened, you so obviously prefer a certain type.”

He laughed. “What type is that?”

“Redheads, damn it.”

“Karen has brown hair.”

“I thought she had red hair.”

“Light brown hair and freckles,” he said. “The freckles mislead a lot of people.”

She was quiet again. “I was thinking before of a way of making trouble.”

It took a moment. “Forget that, too.”

“Why? You know what had me thinking it. I don’t even think it’s possible, in my condition.” She looked at her belly, patted, then rubbed it. “I’m too far along. I wouldn’t want you to see me for the first time this way.” She looked at him. “I can go pretty far with my imagination.”