mom sucked in her sobs. her chalk-white cheeks were still streaked with rivulets of tears.

"i'm sorry, david. i've never told anyone—not even ronnie. i haven't read a book, haven't even looked at one since we were married. i've tried to be a good wife—"

"a good wife." dad sneered. his face was so ugly that ronnie looked away.

mom continued, "i—i learned when i was just a girl. i was young like ronnie. you know how young people are—reckless, eager to do forbidden things."

"you lied to me," dad snapped. "for ten years you've lied to me. why did you want to read, edith? why?"

mom was silent for a few seconds. she was breathing heavily, but no longer crying. a calmness entered her features, and for the first time tonight ronnie saw no fear in her eyes.

"i wanted to read," she said, her voice firm and proud, "because, as ronnie said, it's fun. the video's nice, with its dancers and lovers and indians and spacemen—but sometimes you want more than that. sometimes you want to know how people feel deep inside and how they think. and there are beautiful words and beautiful thoughts, just like there are beautiful paintings. it isn't enough just to hear them and then forget them. sometimes you want to keep the words and thoughts before you because in that way you feel that they belong to you."

her words echoed in the room until absorbed by the ceaseless, ticking clock. mom stood straight and unashamed. dad's gaze traveled slowly to ronnie, to mom, to the clock, back and forth.

at last he said, "get out."

mom stared blankly.

"get out. both of you. you can send for your things later. i never want to see either of you again."

"david—"

"i said get out!"

ronnie and mom left the house. outside, the night was dark and a wind was rising. mom shivered in her thin house cloak.

"where will we go, ronnie? where, where—"

"i know a place. maybe we can stay there—for a little while."

"a little while?" mom echoed. her mind seemed frozen by the cold wind.

ronnie led her through the cold, windy streets. they left the lights of the town behind them. they stumbled over a rough, dirt country road. they came to a small, rough-boarded house in the deep shadow of an eucalyptus grove. the windows of the house were like friendly eyes of warm golden light.

an instant later a door opened and a small boy ran out to meet them.

"hi, kenny."

"hi. who's that? your mom?"

"yep. mr. davis in?"

"sure."

and a kindly-faced, bearded young man appeared in the golden doorway, smiling.

ronnie and mom stepped inside.

the end