OCR Text |
Show 157 . And suddenly that great sense of loss found her. Like a sudden knife, piercing her breast. It had been a long time, such a long time-how could it find her now with such penetrating sharpness? He began sobbing, great gasping sobs. He covered his face in his hands. "Come on," she said standing, fighting off that sharp pain, "this isn't going to do us any good, Do you want your pie?" He shook his head no, his face still in his hands. He was weeping like a child. Like a small helpless child-the way Marty sometimes cried. "Let's go to a movie," She said, "let's get out of here and do something." Blindly, he reached for his handkerchief. "Come on. It'll do us both good." She put her arm around his shoulders. He blew his nose, and shook his head in agreement. "Come on now and wash up. I'll clean up here." He stood and stumbled his way to the bathroom. She could hear the water running as he washed. Standing there beside his empty chair, she took a deep breath, getting hold of herself. It was going to be all right now. Surveying the food-laden table, she was thankful there was something to busy herself with. She began wrapping the food in wax paper. There was a lot left, he would eat on this all week. So she still had not worked it completely out, she thought, that sense of loss. Usually, now, she felt it only when she wanted to talk with them, when she felt that overpowering urge to speak with them about |