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"Hey, I was calling you. Are you okay?"

"Oh, sorry. I was daydreaming."

"Let's go home early," Aunt Zipporah told me. "Tyler doesn't need us, and I feel like soaking in a hot bath and kicking back for a change."

"Okay."

We left and started for home. When we made the turn to start down the road my aunt and uncle's house was on, I was sure I saw Duncan off to the side, half in and out of the shadows, leaning on his scooter just the way he would outside the cafe. I didn't say anything, but my heart was pounding. Why was he out there? Why hadn't he called or come to the cafe?

I didn't say anything to my aunt, first, because I wasn't absolutely sure I had seen him, and second, because I didn't want to add any more strange behavior and get her to forbid me from spending any time with him.

"You sure you're okay?" Aunt Zipporah asked. "Yes, I'm fine."

"You're so quiet," she said as we approached the house.

"Maybe I did work too hard on my painting today. I get so into it," I said, "I don't realize how much it can drain me emotionally."

She nodded. "I understand. I just get a little nervous. I was always afraid when your mother became too quiet."

"Why?"

"I felt as if-she was lowering herself into some darkness from which she wouldn't emerge, retreating into herself, locking herself away. I'd do and say anything I could think of to get her into a jolly mood again. It was like throwing someone a lifeline."

"And you're afraid I've inherited that, right? You and my grandmother are both afraid of it. I know," I said before she could deny it. "I know depression can be inherited."

"You know too much for your own good," she said, laughing. "I can't even be subtle with you."

"You don't have to be, Zipporah. I can take the truth."

"I know you can, Alice, but I wish you couldn't." "What? Why?"

"I wish you could yet be the young girl you've a right to be. I wish you were able to fall back on your imagination and escape harsh realities the way your mother and I were able to do."

"Yes," I said as the garage door went up, "so do I."

I anticipated Duncan's arrival any moment and was surprised when he didn't come to knock on the door or ring the doorbell. I sat waiting in the living room while Aunt Zipporah took her bath. She lit some incense and played one of Tyler's Latin chant recordings made by monks. She wanted me to do the same thing, assuring me it would help me sleep and feel so much better. She was so good at describing the beneficial effects, and she did look so relaxed afterward, that I took her up on it and filled the tub, relit the candles and put on the same music. I had given up on Duncan coming to see me.

After I undressed, I looked at the scars around my hip. Whenever I did, it seemed I was looking at someone else's body, as if I had risen out of my own. It was at this moment that I really wished I could do what Aunt Zipporah had described she and my mother could do. Perhaps then I could look at myself and not see the damage. However, if ever I hoped and dreamed that what had happened had been only a nightmare, the scars were there to shout out the reality and keep inc from forgetting or ignoring the past. My imagination was just not up to the task.

Carefully, I lowered myself into the tub and closed my eyes. The warm water felt like a glove around my body. The chanting was as soothing as the water, and I did like the scent of Aunt Zipporah's incense. If only I could stay like this forever, I mused, living in a cocoon woven out of the warmth of the water, the music and the scent of the incense. I'd almost sell my soul for it,

I thought and then suddenly had the feeling I wasn't alone. I opened my eyes.

The door was closed. Aunt Zipporah had gone up to bed. There was no one in the bathroom. Nevertheless, the feeling persisted. I sat up then and looked up and into the window. Duncan's face was framed in it. He was staring in at me. He wasn't smiling. He actually looked like he was in pain.

"Duncan!" I called.

He blinked, and then he was gone so fast I wasn't sure I hadn't imagined it. After all, why would he suddenly become a Peeping Tom anyway? Why wouldn't he have just come to the front door? He had seen me undressed. We had kissed and been warm and intimate with each other. What possible satisfaction would there be for him to gape at me in the tub?

I got out quickly, put out the candles and turned off the music. Then, wrapping a bath towel around myself, I shoved my feet into my slippers and, still not dry, hurried out and to the front door. I opened it and stepped out, listening and looking through the darkness.

"Duncan!" I cried. "Are you out here? Duncan!"

There was no response. I waited, my hair dripping, and then I was sure I heard the sound of his scooter somewhere farther down the road. It quickly disappeared. He was here, I thought. He was.

The entire experience gave me the shivers, on top of the fact that I was dripping wet. I rubbed myself with the towel, then went back inside. Aunt Zipporah had heard me calling. She was at the top of the stairway.

"Alice? Is something wrong?"