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Show 156 without that strange concentration; rather, his face softened, he looked over to her. "Apple pie," he said. "Do you remember how Dad ate apple pie?" She smiled, in spite of herself. "He would really put it away." "Put it away! I've seen him eat a whole half a pie. At one setting. A whole half a pie." Suddenly he stopped, overwhelmed. And then, in a dry, husky voice, he said, "By God, he was something, wasn't he?" He looked over at her as tears sprang to his eyes. This sentimentality, his drunken tears-again, a touch of anger stirred within her. "You and I, Sis," he reached out and took her hand, "that's all there is left." "If you don't stop this, you're going to get me going," she protested. But she couldn't bring herself to pull her hand away. "You and I," he squeezed her hand, "that's all there is."THe was weeping silently now, she could not look at him. "They were such strong people," he said, his voice thick, heavy, "I can't believe they're gone." "After all this time," he said, "I still can't believe they're gone." "No," Sharon said slowly, now looking at him, unable to deny him any longer, "they're not gone. They'll always be here. Inside us." "I feel so alone," tears were rolling down his face, "sometimes I feel so all alone." He squeezed her hand, harder. She squeezed back. "Come on now," she said, "this isn't going to do us any good." |