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herself carefully, slowly, sometimes because he or she
didn't remember these things until something stirred
up the remembrance. Maybe we go through our whole
lives and never really get to know the people we love
or think we love. Look at how much I had learned
about Karen in just the last few months.
My father mistook my deep thinking for
sadness.
"We'll try to do something this weekend," he
promised after we left the restaurant. "Maybe we'll
take a ride to the city and see a show. I think your
mother gets this weekend off. That'll be fun, won't it?" "Yes," I said. I juggled my sadness about Karen
missing all the fun with the realization that she would
have the house to herself and wouldn't be so restricted
in her movements. She could even watch television,
play music, anything, if she was just careful about not
leaving any traces. We'd have to go over that, I
thought. We'd have to be sure that was followed
strictly.
There was so much preparation to do and so
little time to do it. An idea occurred to me.
"Daddy, I'd like to stay home from school
tomorrow."
"You would? Why?"
"It's going to be terrible for me to go back right
after all this. They'll gang up on me to tell them everything I know, and they won't leave me alone all day. I
need a little time. Please," I pleaded.
"Sure, I understand," he said. "I'll call your
mother at the hospital and let her know. No problem,
honey."
