Parcheesi, just as we've done a hundred times. But I
want to shower first and wash my hair and put on
some makeup and perfume. I want to feel normal and
happy again."
She charged down the stairs ahead of me. If she
could get herself to forget it all, I should be able to, I
thought, and quickly followed. I waited for her to
shower. We talked while she dried her hair with a
towel. She wanted to know everything I had said to
my father and mother and all the questions they had asked. I explained how I answered everything so
carefully.
"You were great," she said. "I couldn't have
done any better if the roles were reversed."
Roles reversed? I would have a better chance
walking on the moon. There was no way the roles
could have ever been reversed. I wanted to tell her
that, to be sure she understood that we were birds of a
feather only in some ways. No matter how many halftruths or clever answers I came up with, I was not
standing in the same shoes and never would. As I watched her brush her hair and do her
makeup, I thought how weird it was that she could
still be so beautiful and care so much about her looks
under these circumstances and after what had
happened. It was truly as if she could step out of the
person she had been the day before and become
someone else today. Did that come from inner
strength or inner madness?
She chatted on, planning our days and nights as
if she believed we would go on like this for months
and months, maybe even years.
"After a while, the police will stop running all