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“
You
’
re
a
good
soul
,
Beth
,
”
Mrs
.
Wheatley
said
,
finishing
her
beer
.
“
Why
don
’
t
you
heat
the
two
chicken
dinners
in
the
freezer
?
Set
the
oven
at
four
hundred
.
”
Beth
had
been
holding
two
sanitary
napkins
in
her
right
hand
.
“
I
don
’
t
know
how
to
put
these
on
.
”
Mrs
.
Wheatley
straightened
herself
up
from
her
slumped
position
in
the
chair
.
“
I
am
no
longer
a
wife
,
”
she
said
,
“
except
by
legal
fiction
.
I
believe
I
can
learn
to
be
a
mother
.
I
’
ll
show
you
how
if
you
promise
me
never
to
go
near
Denver
.
”
*
*
*
During
the
night
Beth
woke
to
hear
rain
on
the
roof
over
her
head
and
intermittent
rattling
against
the
panes
of
her
dormer
windows
.
She
had
been
dreaming
of
water
,
of
herself
swimming
easily
in
a
quiet
ocean
of
still
water
.
She
put
a
pillow
over
her
head
and
curled
up
on
her
side
,
trying
to
get
back
to
sleep
.
But
she
could
not
.
The
rain
was
loud
,
and
as
it
continued
to
fall
,
the
sad
languor
of
her
dream
was
replaced
by
the
image
of
a
chessboard
filled
with
pieces
demanding
her
attention
,
demanding
the
clarity
of
her
intelligence
.
It
was
two
in
the
morning
and
she
did
not
get
back
to
sleep
for
the
rest
of
the
night
.
It
was
still
raining
when
she
went
downstairs
at
seven
;
the
backyard
outside
the
kitchen
window
looked
like
a
swamp
with
hillocks
of
near
-
dead
grass
sticking
up
like
islands
.
She
was
not
certain
how
to
fry
eggs
but
decided
she
could
boil
some
.
She
got
two
from
the
refrigerator
,
filled
a
pan
with
water
and
put
it
on
the
burner
.
She
would
play
pawn
to
king
four
against
him
,
and
hope
for
the
Sicilian
.
She
boiled
the
eggs
five
minutes
and
put
them
in
cold
water
.
She
could
see
Beltik
’
s
face
,
youthful
,
arrogant
and
smart
.
His
eyes
were
small
and
black
.
When
he
stepped
toward
her
yesterday
as
she
was
leaving
,
some
part
of
her
had
thought
he
would
hit
her
.
The
eggs
were
perfect
;
she
opened
them
with
a
knife
,
put
them
in
a
cup
and
ate
them
with
salt
and
butter
.
Her
eyes
were
grainy
under
the
lids
.
The
final
game
would
begin
at
eleven
;
it
was
seven
-
twenty
now
.
She
wished
she
had
a
copy
of
Modern
Chess
Openings
,
to
look
over
variations
on
the
Sicilian
.
Some
of
the
other
players
at
the
tournament
had
carried
battered
copies
of
the
book
under
their
arms
.
It
was
only
drizzling
when
she
left
the
house
at
ten
,
and
Mrs
.
Wheatley
was
still
upstairs
asleep
.
Before
she
left
,
Beth
went
into
the
bathroom
and
checked
the
sanitary
belt
Mrs
.
Wheatley
had
given
her
to
wear
,
and
the
thick
white
pad
.
It
was
all
right
.
She
put
on
her
galoshes
and
her
blue
coat
,
got
Mrs
.
Wheatley
’
s
umbrella
from
the
closet
and
left
.
