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"That's Roy."

We walked quietly for a few moments. Harley keeping his head down.

"What else is wrong with Aunt Glenda, Harley?" I decided to ask.

He stopped, his hands dug so deeply into his pants' pockets, he looked like he would rip out the stitching. Even in the darkness. I could see the tears cloud his eyes, despite his grand attempts to prevent it. Harley was always afraid of revealing his emotions. I could remember him as a child, tightening his face into that inscrutable mask. There was a second level in the depth of his eyes that I had only recently learned to rea

ch.

"She's been walking in her sleep," he disclosed. "And not only in the middle of the night. Almost whenever she falls asleep these days, she rises and does things."

"What kinds of things?"

"Looking after Latisha as if she was still there. I don't mean just caring for her clothes or seeing that the room is clean and going out to the grave. She's talking to her aloud and then she's..."

"What?"

"She sits in the rocking chair in Latishas nursery and holds her arms as if Latisha was in them and sings lullabies to her. I woke up night before last and heard her singing. It was a little scary. I don't mean like ghost scary. It was frightening to listen to her doing something crazy like that.

"Next thing I hear is Roy urging her to come back to bed. She tells him she's got to get the baby back to sleep first, and he's talking to her as if he sees Latisha in her arms, too. saying, 'She's asleep. Glenda. Put her in her crib.'

"All sorts of memories came rushing back when I heard this stuff. I thought I was still dreaming, in a nightmare, you know what I mean?"

"I can imagine,"

"I got up and looked in on them. Roy was squatted down beside her, stroking her arm and talking softly, trying to get her to wake up, snap out of it, but she just wouldn't. Finally, he turns and sees me there. He just stared out at me. I never saw him look like that. He wasn't angry or sad. He was more like..."

"Like what. Harley?"

"More like he was afraid. Seeing fear in boy's face made me turn to ice inside.

'What's wrong with her?' I asked him.

"'Just go back to sleep: he said. 'There's nothing you can do.'

"'Mom, I called to her anyway and she... she started to cry. She cried so hard, her body looked like it was going to shatter into pieces. Roy held onto her and she shook him. too. He waved me away and I went back into my room. It seemed like hours went by before I heard him leading her back to bed.

"She didn't get up in the morning to make us any breakfast. Roy did it. I looked in on her, but she was dead to the world. I was afraid to leave her. I wanted to call your mother. but Roy got any and said Rain had enough troubles of her own. She didn't need his. too.

''It's not just your trouble.' I snapped at him. 'She's my mother.'

"'Then don't cause her any worry.' was his response. Like what was happening might be my

"I don't think he meant that. Harley."

"Yeah, well." he said, walking on. "he should have called your mother. Sometimes. I think he worries more about her than he does about my mother, his wife."

"No, I..."

"You don't hear what he says to us. Summer," Harley blurted. spinning on me. "What he says to my mother, I mean. As long as I can remember, he's compared her to your mother, made her feel she wasn't as pretty or as good. If my mother ever complained about anything, anything at all, his comeback was always. 'You should be glad you're not in a wheelchair, Glenda.' He's been holding up that picture of your mother for years and years, using it like a whip to keep my mother down like some caged animal."

He continued, imitating Uncle Roy.

"'Why don't you take as good care of yourself as Rain does? She's a paraplegic, and she's still concerned about her hair, her face. She still takes care of her health and does what exercise she can.' Stuff like that."

"I never heard it," I said.

"No, he wouldn't do it in front of you or your mother or father."