anything resembling firmness. That was' when he, Dusty, was about nine. He had insisted that the boy have his own room and his own bed; he simply had to, he declared, and that was that.
But that, as it«turned out, was not that. Mr. Rhodes was away from home a great deal during those days – lecturing in winter, attending college for doctorate credit in summer. And during these absences, his edict was generally ignored.
They would start off to obey, go through all the preliminaries. She would see him to his room, turn on the nightlamp, tuck him under the bedclothes. She would tuck him in very firmly, moving the bedclothes this way and that, adjusting and readjusting the lamp. She would look down at him, primly, her voice faltering a little as she explained why things had to be as they were. 'You understand, don't you, darling? Dad's so awfully good to us and he knows what's best, and if he asks us to do something even if it doesn't make any sense – well, we simply must! It's not because Mother doesn't love you any more. She l-loves her boy s-s-so much that… Oh, darling, darling!' – a wail. 'I can't! I won't. N-not tonight. Tomorrow but not tonight…'
He liked their bed best. It was larger than his, of course, and he derived a strangely satisfying sense of security from being in it. He did not always feel secure, otherwise, despite the daily demonstrations of her and his father's love. Almost always there was a feeling of unsatisfied want, of something withheld. Of incompleteness. But there with her in the big bed, just the two of them alone, he at last knew absolute safety: the haunting, indefinable hunger was fed. And he wanted for nothing.
He believed he had been about eleven when it happened. It was on a Sunday morning, and she had been awakened early by a rainstorm, and so she had awakened him (not intentionally) with drowsy kisses and hugs. He burrowed close to her. He moved his head, sleepily, feeling an unusual softness and warmth. And suddenly he felt it withdrawn, or, rather, since he did not release his hold, an attempt at withdrawal.
'Bill! Let go, darling!'
'Huh?' He opened his eyes, unwillingly. 'What's the matter?'
'Well, you can see, can't you?' – her voice was almost sharp. 'I mean, Mother has to fix her nightgown.'
She fixed it hastily, blushing. She lay back down, rather stiffly, and then, seeing the innocence of his expression, she drew him close again.
'I'm sorry, darling. Mother didn't mean to sound cross to her baby.'
'I'm not your baby,' he said, and this time it was he who drew away from her.
'You're -? Oh, well, of course, you're not. Now you're Mother's big boy, her little man.'
'I never was your baby,' he said.
'B-but, sweetheart' – she raised up on one elbow, looked down troubledly into his face. 'Of course, you were my baby. You still are. Has someone – did someone tell you that-'
'I know,' he said. 'I know what those are for. They're for babies, what Mamas feed babies with, and you never did so I'm not.'
'But' – she laughed uncomfortably. A faint crimson was tinging the pale gold of her face, spreading down over her neck and into the deep shadowed hollow of her breasts. 'But, sweetheart' – there was a catch to her laugh. 'Of course, I did. You just don't remember!'
'No,' he said, 'I wasn't your baby, so you wouldn't want me to.'
'But I would! I mean, I did! When you were a baby, I always – well, I always did!'
He turned his body, turning his back to her. She tried to put her arms around him, and he jerked away roughly.
'Darling! It's true, darling. You don't think Mother would lie, do you?'
He didn't answer her.
'You've g-got to believe me, dearest. You were Always my baby, no one's but mine. Why whose baby would you be if… if…'
He didn't answer her.
'Now listen to me, Bill! I will not let you carry on like this! It's an extremely foolish way for you to act, and… Oh, darling! My poor darling! What can I say to you?'
Silence.
'Darling… honey lamb… Mother wasn't angry a moment ago. She didn't really mind. She wouldn't have minded a bit if you were still a little baby I-like… You understand, don't you, darling?'
'Silence'
'If I… Would it be all right, darling, would you believe me if I – we – If now…?'
'He was still silent, but it was a different kind of silence. Warm, expectant, deliciously shivery. They lay very still for a moment, and then she sat up, and there was the sound of soft silk against silken flesh.
She lay back down. She whispered, 'B-baby. Turn around, baby…' And he turned around.
Then, right on the doorstep of the ultimate heaven, the gates clanged shut.
She lay 'perfectly still, breathing evenly. She did not need to push him away, not physically. Her eyes did that. Delicately flushed a moment before, the lovely planes of her face were now an icy white.
'You're a very smart boy, Bill. '
'Am I, Mother?'
'Very. Far ahead of your years. How long have you been planning this?'
'P-planning what, Mother?'
'You had it all figured out, didn't you? Your – poor old Dad, sick and worn out so much of the time. And me, still young and foolish and giddy, and loving you so much that I'd do anything to save you hurt.'
'I – you mad at me about somethin', Mother?'
'Stop it! Stop pretending! Don't deceive yourself, Bill. At least be honest with yourself.'
'M-Mother. I'm sorry if I -'
'Not nearly as sorry as I am, Bill. Nor as shocked, or frightened…'
She was frightened. And being unable to live with her fear, she tried to deny its existence. It had never happened, she told herself – and she told him. That rainy Sunday morning was a bad dream, or at worst no more than a misunderstanding, exaggerated out of true and innocent proportion by sleep-drugged minds. It had no reality, she said, and should be forgotten completely. And he did forget-almost. His conscious memory forgot.
He was her son. He understood the importance of believing that, and so he believed. And ostensibly – even in the eyes of Mr. Rhodes – there was no change in their relationship. No untoward change. She was still lovingly affectionate with the boy, absorbed in his welfare. He was still mutely adoring in her presence. True, there was no longer any pouting and arguing about Bill's sleeping arrangements. And, true, the caresses exchanged between woman and boy seemed considerably less fervent. But that, those things, were as they should be. Bill was growing up. Naturally he was pulling away from his mother's apron strings.
Dusty rolled restlessly on the bed, still thinking. His disinterest in girls, his 'lack of time' for them: was she the reason? She was. He admitted it now. She had been the woman, the only one. Until he met her counterpart, in Marcia Hillis, there could be no other.
So the years passed, and everything was forgotten. As far as it is within human capacity to forget. Mr. Rhodes remained active, but his health was failing. Their concern for him, and the necessity to take care of him, drew the two well members of the family closer and closer together.
There were long, almost nightly discussions in the living room after the old man had retired. Conferences held in whispers, lights dimmed, so as not to disturb him. There were cups of coffee shared, and cigarettes passed back and forth. There was an intimacy of silences and sighs. Occasionally there were tears, with Dusty soothing her, drawing her head against his shoulder and stroking the thick lustrous gray hair.
All the awkwardness between them disappeared. The bond of trust and interdependence strengthened. Some nights she fell asleep, and he carried her up to her room… a room no longer shared with her husband.
The first night it happened, she had waked up. She kept her eyes closed but he knew she was awake, and for a terrible moment he was afraid she might scream or strike out at him. Still, since there was nothing to do hut go ahead he went ahead, slipping off her robe, laying the thin-gowned body between the covers and carefully tucking them around its curving richness. Then, very gently, he had given her a chaste kiss on the forehead. And started to tiptoe from the room.
So I knew what I was 'doing. What of it? Was I supposed to make myself look like a heel?
She whispered, 'Bill…' and he went back. She stretched out her
