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He was quiet a moment. "Yeah, I guess I understand that. Well, if you want to talk to anyone about it, don't hesitate to tall me. I'll check on you from time to time."

"Okay."

"Tell Zipporah hello for me."

"I will," I said.

He wished me luck and said good-bye. I felt bad about not being more talkative, but 1 couldn't help thinking about Duncan. I was sorry I didn't insist he call me when he got home, Finally, I decided I would call him. It took me a while to find his telephone number because his mother wasn't listed in the telephone book under Winning. I finally remembered he had told me she had changed her name back to her maiden name, Simon. I found the listing, but I hesitated to call.

Would I get him into some sort of trouble by calling? I tried to occupy myself with reading and with some television, but nothing worked.

The rain was really thumping on the roof by now, and I heard the thunder and saw some more lightning. It had been nearly an hour since he had left. I had to know he was safe. I wouldn't sleep. Memories of my car accident were flashing across my eyes, sending shivers up and down my spine. Would I cause someone else's death, someone else who dared to get close to me?

As I paced about, I thought that my limp was becoming more and more pronounced, as though it were meant to be another reminder--or maybe a prophecy. Soon I was envisioning him sprawled on some highway, the rain pummeling his face and his hand, his body twisted and broken, and then his mother arriving and screaming to the police and to the paramedics, "It's all because of her! My son is dead because he met her!"

Finally, I could contain myself no longer. With trembling fingers, I dialed the number. It barely rang once.

"I'm all right," I heard him say in a deep, hoarse whisper and then hang up. He didn't even say hello; he was that sure he was getting a phone call from me. Or maybe, maybe his mother knew, could see through everything just as he had said. Maybe he had confessed again, told her every detail.

It was as if the lightning sizzling the air outside had shot through the window and sizzled my heart in half as well. I held the receiver and listened to the hum. Then I hung up slowly, just as my uncle and aunt arrived home from the cafe. I heard Aunt Zipporah call for me.

"Wow!" she exclaimed. "This is a real summer downpour," she said, shaking her hair.

"It's a good night for Macbeth's witches," Uncle Tyler added, laughing. "How are things going with the studio?"

"We got a lot done," I replied.

"We?" Aunt Zipporah asked, and I told her all about Duncan's surprise visit, helping me in the studio and then his helping prepare our dinner.

She and Uncle Tyler looked at each other with obvious surprise.

"I hope that was all right," I said quickly.

"Oh, sure it was," Aunt Zipporah replied.

"He got home ahead of this mess, I hope," Uncle Tyler said, indicating the rain.

"Just barely."

"Everything else all right?" Aunt Zipporah asked me, her voice ringing with curiosity and some suspicion.

"Far as I know," I replied.

"Well, this will be a good test of the repairs to the roof we did this year," Uncle Tyler said and started upstairs.

Aunt Zipporah lingered, fidgeting with things in the kitchen. I knew she was still concerned. She walked into the living room, where I was sitting and trying to read one of the books 1 knew I had to read for my upcoming senior year. My eyes continually moved off the page, and my thoughts drifted away from the story and characters so much that I couldn't remember what I had just read.

"So, now that you've spent more time with Duncan," she began, "what's he really like?"

I told her more details about the things he had done at the studio and how he had been so good at helping with dinner. The more I spoke, the wider her smile became.

"You sound like you like him very much, Alice." "Yes, I do," I admitted.

"That's fine. I know his mother is pretty much to herself. I haven't seen her around, at any stores, sho

pping--"

"He does the shopping for them," I said quickly.