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Show 89 the broken glass, the twisted metal. As if the car-which was actually beautiful in its smooth lines-had suffered an injury. Silently, Sharon helped remove the bags of groceries from the trunk, stepping back as Katie slammed down the lid. The rest of the evening she was careful not to give Katie cause to fly off the handle. It was hard: the kids sensed Katie's particularly foul mood, it set them on edge. But she did get them all down in bed without a scene. As she tucked in Marty, he promised to go to sleep if he could have a drink of water. But the glass which was kept in the bathroom for that specific purpose was not there. While doing the dishes, she had Jeanne fetch it, and had forgotten to bring one back up. Marty promised to stay in bed while she went down for one. She had not yet reached the kitchen when the side door slammed, and from the stairs she could see Oscar's large frame crossing quickly to the counter where Katie was pouring a cup of coffee. "What in the hell happened to the car?" he demanded, his face red. Katie stiffened. She turned slowly-deliberately-away from him. Oscar grabbed her shoulder and yanked her around to him. "I said," he spoke through clenched teeth, his face ugly, "What in the hell happened to the car!" "Get your hands off me!" Katie shook his hand off her shoulder, again turning her back on him. To finish pouring her coffee. She set the pot down, picking up her cup. Oscar grabbed her elbow. In jerking up and away from his grasp-and completing the motion |