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didn’t want to wake her, but he couldn’t let her stay as she was; she could so easily fall out of bed.
    He moved her gently onto her back in the center of the bed and covered her.
    He straightened. Missy sat up.
    “Hi,” he said.
    She didn’t answer. She looked at him. Her eyes were big.
    She was asleep with her eyes open, Warren thought. His realization that she was beautiful came with that familiar feeling of delighted amazement that he’d so often had, and he wondered if every father felt like this about his kid. Missy was Tinker Bell and Alice-In-Wonderland and Alpine Heidi. There were times it was hard to believe this lovely little girl was his, his and Vicki’s, the miraculous result of biology, blind chance and genetic patterns.
    Missy’s lips moved soundlessly.
    “What’s that, baby?”
    She mumbled. He made out only two words. “Love…you…”
    “Love you, too. Go back to sleep now, Missy,” he said. He touched her shoulder, lightly pushing her back onto the pillow. “That’s the girl.”
    She smiled.
    “She loves you,” Missy said.
    She closed her eyes.
     
    — | — | —
     

Four
     
    Melissa?
    Melissa… Melissa!
    Hey, go away and leave me alone ’cause I’m asleep and anyway, nobody calls me Melissa. I told you that. Melissa is nerdy. It’s Missy.
    I like Melissa better. It sounds like my name, Lisette.
    Well, it is not your name, Lisette. That’s ’cause I’m me and you’re you. And besides, you’re not even real.
    I am real, Melissa.
    No, you’re just imaginary, like an imaginary friend. I knew this girl in kindergarten and she had an imaginary friend just like you that wasn’t real. Everyone thought she was real loony tunes.
    You can see me, Melissa. That means I’m not imaginary.
    I can see you but you look real weird, kind of like you’re not even really here. And your clothes are so funny. They’re like old-timey, like in a movie or something.
    You’re being mean, Melissa. Don’t be mean to me. I’m lonely. I’m always so lonely.
    Phooey!
    I need you, Melissa. And I’m nice to you. Didn’t I teach you a funny song? And didn’t I give you a present?
    Yeah.
    Isn’t the paperweight pretty? Don’t you like the rose?
    I guess it’s pretty neat.
    I have other gifts for you. You can have them if you’ll be my friend.
    I don’t know. Dorothy at school said she’d be my friend. I asked her. Amy Lynn, too, and she’s got her own playhouse in her backyard. They’re nice, and they’re real. They’re not imaginary like you.
    Melissa, you’re making me sad. I’m so lonely.
    Hey, stop crying, okay? I don’t want to make you cry.
    Mama?
    Where is your mother anyway? You’re always crying for her like a big, dumb baby.
    Mama’s not here. It’s just me here, and I’m so lonely.
    Will you stop crying, huh?
    Mama?
    Just stop it. You can be my friend. You be my friend, and I’ll be yours.
    Do you mean it?
    Sure, I do.
    Really and truly mean it?
    Yeah. Cross my heart and hope to die.
    I’m happy now, Melissa.
    If you want, you can give me more presents. And I’ll tell you what, I’ll give you presents, too, ’cause you’re my friend.
    Yes.
    Should I give you a Strawberry Shortcake sticker? I have lots of ’em. They’re fun.
    No.
    Well, what do you want? What kind of present?
    You’re pretty, Melissa. I like your hair and your eyes and your ears and your nose and your mouth. I like your arms and your legs.
    You’re being silly. Come on, what kind of present should I give you?
    Your pretty hair. Maybe one, just one hair?
    Phooey! That’s stupid! What a dumb present. You’re just being silly!
    No.
    Hey, I can be silly too, you know. I know something real silly. And it’s dirty, too. Want to hear?
    Yes.
    I’m horny. Are you horny? Isn’t that funny?
    Is it?
    Sure, I think so. Anyhow, I guess we’re friends, okay?
    Yes, and now I want you to let me have one of your hairs.
    Well, take it.
    I will.
    Hey! That hurt.
    We’re friends now, Melissa. You and