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figuring out the connections between her dreams and reality. She’d learned that from Richard. But maybe her nightmare had to do with Frank. Maybe he was the old man on the ship beckoning her while she struggled with her footing. Gestalt therapists believed that every part of a dream was a part of yourself. Maybe it would help to talk to Richard about it, but he could be such a jerk. He had this pompous way of lecturing her, as if he had all the answers. No, she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of lording it over her again.
    “Alex,” Richard shouted through the open door. “Breakfast is ready!” He took his apron off. “I won’t say anything more, but it’s perfectly reasonable to be afraid.”
    “Afraid of what?” said Alex, as she came running into the room, her skinny legs propelling her into Catherine’s arms.
    Catherine chuckled. “I swear you have the ears of an elephant.”
    “I do not.”
    “Honey, I was admiring how well you hear.”
    Alex pursed her lips. “You always change the subject.”
    “I know.” Catherine sighed. “We were talking about Mama’s old bug-a-boo.”
    Alex looked at her quizzically. “What’s a bug-a-boo?”
    “It’s something that’s a little scary. Like for me, it’s the deep . Now, sit down and eat before your pancakes get cold.”
    Richard met Catherine’s gaze. “You’re avoiding the issue.”
    “Because I don’t want to talk about it?”
    “You’re still as obstinate as you always were.”
    “Aren’t you glad we’re not together?” As soon as she’d said it, Catherine realized she’d spoken in haste. Alex frowned and folded her arms. “Oh honey, Mama and Papa just couldn’t live together. But the best part was having you. That’ll never change.” Alex looked from one to the other. Catherine wished Richard didn’t look so pained. “Now Papa and I are good friends.”
    “I guess.” Alex pushed pieces of pancake around her plate.
    Catherine put her fork down. “Alex, your pancakes’ll get cold.”
    “I don’t care.”
    “Papa worked hard making those for you.”
    “It’s okay,” said Richard.
    Catherine shot him a look— it’s not okay— then turned back and said, “Alex...”
    Alex scowled before picking up her fork to jab a pancake.
    “I’ll talk to you about it later, okay?”
    “Pinkie promise?”
    Catherine interlocked her pinkie finger with Alex’s and said, “Pinkie promise.”
    Satisfied, Alex took a bite of her pancake. “That’s a pretty ring, Mama.”
    “It is, isn’t it?” She twisted the Claddagh ring so the heart sat in the middle of her finger. At one time, someone wore this wedding ring and also made a promise. She wondered if the woman regretted her promise just as Catherine regretted the promise she’d just made Alex. Her divorce wasn’t easy to talk about. She should’ve known it would come up again. Alex had been so distraught over the break-up that it had taken her two years to feel comfortable without her mother nearby.
    Catherine reached for the sugar bowl and took two teaspoons for her coffee. She sighed. They were eating in silence again. It was as if nothing had changed. She and Richard used to sit for long periods, with nothing to say to one another.
    Richard seemed to notice, too, as he said, “We’re very quiet this morning.”
    “We’re probably jet-lagged.” Catherine didn’t want to say that they’d never had much to talk about in the old days anyway. Back then, she’d be the one who would share something she thought was interesting, and Richard would listen but look bored. Sometimes she had the feeling he was treating her like one of his patients. She guessed he was so used to listening and not responding, it had become second nature to him, even when he was at home.
    “So,” said Richard to Alex, “we’ll go visit Grandma soon. She can’t wait to see you.”
    Seeing Alex brighten, Catherine smiled. She was grateful for his help, but she wasn’t as sure about her