As Jason held the gauze to his cheek, he wondered if he could ask not to have his birthday party tomorrow, or at least to postpone it. He already knew there would be no discussion. The decision was obviously already made and speaking at all right now was just not worth the effort. Which is why he had not explained exactly what had happened to either of his parents very well. His father, not being able to stand the boredom of the waiting room any longer reached for a finance magazine, even though Jason knew he'd read it cover to cover once already. His dad was here only until his mother returned with the birthday cake from the bakery (which closed at 5:00 and wouldn't be open tomorrow). Then his dad was headed back to the office for an intercontinental conference-call.

Jason touched his numb lip with his index finger and thumb. It was fleshy and cold. It should be a complete circuit of touching, the fingers feeling the lip and the lips feeling the fingers, but the circuit was broken. Only one sensation was returned. He thought it should be more like feeling someone else's lip.

"Don't play with your lip," said his father. Jason resumed exploring the numbness with his tongue. Finally he dared to lick the stitches inside his cheek. He hoped Robert would at least decide not to attend the party. He wished he never had to talk to Robert ever again, but since they were both in the same neighborhood, school and Cub Scout den, that would be difficult. Difficult, but not impossible. It was clear to Jason that their friendship, which had grown deep over the past year and a half since his parents moved here, was over.

• • •

Mrs. Laffont put the Chrysler in park and turned off the ignition. She lowered her sunglasses and turned to Robert. "Do you want to wait in the car or come inside?" she asked. The quiet solitude of the ride had been broken. Robert stared into her brown eyes. With the sunglasses removed, they seemed huge -- alive. Robert felt a warm smile rising as he gazed into them, but knew he was supposed to be sullen, contemplating what had happened.

In reality, he had been thinking about Mrs. Laffont's perfume. During the ride from the hospital, he had been debating whether the sweet smell he'd noticed since sitting up front was actually perfume or just some car air freshener. Eventually, he'd concluded there were two smells. The lighter and more refined of the two, however, was probably a scent Mrs. Laffont was wearing. It reminded him of peaches, even though he couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten a peach, let alone smelled one. He felt like asking her, just so he could be sure. As his lips began to prepare a response, he knew this was not the time. His aloofness persisted.

"Why don't you just come inside," said Mrs. Laffont pulling the keys from the ignition. "I need to get a few things from the Safeway and then I need you to help me pick up the cake." Robert adjusted his glasses and said "Okay." He made a grab for his bookbag. "You can just leave that here in the car, dear." said Mrs. Laffont. She opened the car door and her long tan legs slid out of the air-conditioned sedan and into the hot August heat.

Robert was unsure about leaving his bookbag in the car, but he did. As he followed Mrs. Laffont and her perfume, he felt strange not having a strap to grab on to, the weight of the bag's contents to balance his uneven gait. Robert became painfully aware he had no idea what to do with his hands as he followed Mrs. Laffont. He began to gaze just below the edge of Mrs. Laffont's beige dress with the floral print on the subtle curves in her calves. He decided that Mrs. Laffont must have nice legs. It was a weird decision. But it made him feel good to think it.

He distracted himself from staring by examining the others walking to and from the grocery store. There were old men in yellow shirts walking very slowly. There were teenage girls looking very serious and then cackling suddenly. There was a man who looked Korean in a gas station's attendent's shirt pulling out a cigarette. He saw he was losing ground against Mrs. Laffont's long strides. As Robert increased his speed, the events of the afternoon spun back into his head.

He was trying to trace the emotions now, searching for absolution. What was his exact state of mind as he pushed Jason from the ladder? Mrs. Laffont's apparent nonchalance over the past two hours suggested, at the very least, a lack of accusation. She had been just as nice to him since the accident as she had before, when she made them both fresh-squeezed lemonade. That's when he began thinking Jason must be lucky to have her as his mom.

• • •

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