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refused
to consider the idea of working again herself until Natasha was old
enough to go to school. Neal actually admired Annie’s resolve to
devote all her time and attention to the baby—he didn’t think that
leaving infants in day care centers, with total strangers, was a
good idea. But he didn’t think it was smart to raise kids in
substandard conditions, either. And what about money for Natasha’s
education? Where would that come from? Out of the sky? But Neal had
grown tired of that discussion, and he knew Annie had, too.
Whenever they got into it, he always ended up feeling like the
“selfish prick” insurance salesman who had knocked up his
sister.
    “I have to find something that pays more,”
he said. “And something that’s more mentally stimulating. If I
don’t, I’m going to go fu—I mean, I’m going to go stir crazy.”
    At that instant, Natasha let out a
“gaaaaa-oooooh” that was loud enough to drown out the sizzling and
popping of the chicken. Neal and Annie both laughed.
    Annie picked Natasha up out of her baby seat
and brought her back to the doorway.
    “What did you tay, honey?” Annie said,
tickling her chin. “Tay tometing for Mommy and Daddy.”
    Natasha smiled and worked her mouth, but no
sound came out.
    Annie looked at Neal sympathetically. “Don’t
you think you might have just imagined that she said ‘I love you’?
That sounded a lot like it a minute ago.”
    “I didn’t
imagine
it,” Neal said
defensively. “She said it loud and clear, all three words:
I—love—you.”
    Annie nodded, but Neal could tell she no
more believed him than if he had told her that Natasha had played
duplicate bridge with him that afternoon.
    Neal saw a flicker of light behind Annie,
and he smelled something burning. “Annie, I think your chicken’s on
fire.”
    “Oh!” she said, rushing back into the
kitchen.
    Neal got up from the couch and followed her.
Annie quickly set Natasha down in her baby seat, then reached for
the handle of the flaming skillet.
    “Don’t!” Neal said. He took a dishtowel off
the counter and moved the skillet over to the sink.
    While Annie tried to save the chicken, Neal
went over to Natasha. The little baby looked up at him and slowly
kicked her feet, like she was riding a tiny bicycle. Neal didn’t
touch her very much, but now, he had an impulse to grab her bare
foot. Which he did. The tiny foot felt strange in his hand, hot and
clammy, like the paw of some furry animal.
    Natasha’s eyes remained fixed on Neal’s
face. He watched her for a long moment, feeling a little uneasy. He
relaxed a little and smiled at her.
    Her mouth opened.
    At first, Neal thought she was going to
speak to him again. Instead, some yellowish goo bubbled out and ran
down her chin.
    Neal backed away. “Annie, Natasha’s—”
    Annie turned around, saw what was happening,
and scooped Natasha up into her arms. She picked up a dishtowel and
cleaned the baby’s face with it.
    Natasha’s tiny brown eyes remained with
Neal’s, her expression oddly distant.
    He took another step back from her,
wondering if the yellowish goo had been served up especially for
him.
     
     

C HAPTER 4
     
    Neal awoke sometime in the middle of the
night, his bladder full. This had always been a normal occurrence
for him, but now, he was drinking a beer (well, sometimes two or
three beers) every night, and he was waking up more often.
    He peered in the direction of the night
stand to check the time. As always, Annie had left the telephone
off the hook, and the receiver was blocking the view of the alarm
clock. But Neal was sure it could not have been past 2:00 am. The
baby woke up every night around that time to be nursed, and Neal
had never managed to sleep through the clamorous process.
    He lay there for a couple of minutes,
debating about whether to get up and go to the toilet or try to
ignore the dull ache in his groin and go back to sleep. He finally
opted for the latter. But as soon as he closed his