suffer with your loneliness.
I finally fell asleep only to be woken by a
gentle and then loud knock on my door. At first I
thought it was part of a dream. Then I sat up and
heard it again.
"Yes?"
Daddy poked his head between the door and
jamb. "I hate to bother you, Olivia, but . . . well, your
mother's worried, too."
"Worried? Why?"
"It's nearly three in the morning and Belinda
has not come home."
"That never worried you before," I said sharply.
He hesitated.
"Yes, well, considering what happened . ." "We aren't supposed to talk about it, Daddy," I
snapped. I wasn't feeling very charitable.
"Please, Olivia."
"What do you want me to do, Daddy?" "Could you go look for her?"
"At the beach?"
"Yes," he said. "We don't want her to get into
any more trouble."
"I can't believe she would do anything like that,
Daddy," I said. He remained in the doorway. "I'm more worried about your mother," he said.
"All right," I said. "I'll go find her."
"Thank you, Olivia."
I rose and put on a pair of slacks and a sweater.
I grabbed my light jacket on the way out and hurried
down the corridor and stairs, driven mostly by anger.
How could she be so insensitive and selfish? She
knew what Daddy and Mother had suffered. No