DeAnne looked at him coldly, then, and said, "We're not Christian Scientists, you know."
"And psychiatrists aren't doctors, either," said Step.
"Yes they are," said DeAnne.
"Having an M.D. doesn't make you a doctor," said Step. "People on the waiting lists at clinics get better at exactly the same rate as the people who are being treated."
"I read that article, too," said DeAnne. "But I also noticed that the clinics seemed to do no harm. And maybe if we take Stevie to a doctor he'll realize how much we care about him."
"He'll realize that we think he's crazy," said Step.
"He plays with imaginary friends," said DeAnne.
"And psychiatrists cost thousands of dollars," said Step, knowing that his secret weapon in any argument with DeAnne was to say that they could not afford it.
"Ninety dollars," said DeAnne.
He realized how very serious she was about it. "You've already checked."
"On the cost, yes," said DeAnne. "I went to Jenny's pediatrician, Dr. Greenwald, and he gave me the names of three child psychiatrists in Steuben, and I called them all and asked what they were charging and it's ninety dollars an hour. The only question now is whether the insurance from Eight Bits Inc. will cover a psychiatrist."
"It won't."
"You won't even ask about it?"
And then it was Step's turn to confess. "I already did."
She laughed, but she was angry. "You hypocrite."
"You've been hinting around about this ever since you noticed these imaginary friends," said Step. "I knew you were going to want to do it, and I had to know whether it would be covered. And it won't."
She looked at him, wanting to say something really dangerous-he knew the look, knew she was deciding whether it was worth the fight that would ensue if she said what was on her mind.
He saved her the trouble of deciding. "You're about to accuse me of lying about it," said Step.
"I was not!" she said.
"You were deciding whether or not to tell me that you were going to call Eight Bits Inc. and find out for yourself if it's covered."
"That's not calling you a liar," she said. "That's checking to make sure. What if they thought you meant adult psychiatric treatme nt, and that's not covered, but psychiatric treatment for children is."
"Oh, I see. It's not that I'm a liar, it's that I'm so incompetent that I can't carry on an effective conversation with another adult. You have to check up to see if I missed a little thing like that."
"People can make mistakes!" she said.
"Yes, ma'am, they certainly can," said Step, and he started to leave the room.
"Don't do that!" she shouted at him.
"Don't do what?" he asked.
"Don't walk out on me."
The words hung in the air.
"There's a world of difference," said Step, "between walking out on you and walking out of a room. I'm walking out of a room right now." She started to say something, but he didn't give her a chance. "Right now," he said.
He opened the bedroom door and went into the hall and realized that Robbie and Betsy were playing quietly in Robbie's room, not in the family room as he had thought. Step and DeAnne had raised their voices during this argument-did the children hear? "Hi, kids," he said. "What brings you back here?"
"Stevie told us to get out."
"Are you fine here?"
"Yes.
But Robbie looked so solemn that Step knew that he had heard, that he was worried. "What's wrong, Road Bug?"
"Stevie doesn't like me anymore," said Robbie. His face twisted up to wring out his tears.
"Sure he does, Robot Man," said Step. He sat down by Robbie and put his arm around him. Betsy, of course, began to cry too, since crying was getting Robbie so much attention from Daddy. Step put an arm around her, too, but his attention remained on Robbie. "Stevie's just having a hard time right now."
"What's so hard about it?" asked Robbie. "He just sits around and plays computer games or he plays with Jack and Scotty and he never plays with me."
"Jack and Scotty?" asked Step.
"He's always playing pirates with them, or playing train or something, and he won't play with me, and Betsy's no fun."
"No fun," said Betsy.
"I mean she's just a baby"
"Baby in Mommy's tummy," said Betsy.
"Road Bug, it's hard, you think I don't know that?" said Step. "Stevie's having a hard time at school and I think he's still a little mad at me for making him move. And so he needs to be by himself a lot."
"Then how come he's always playing with Scotty and Jack?" asked Robbie.
Step had to think for a minute. What in the world could he say to that? You have to understand, Robbie, that your brother is retreating from reality into a wonderful magical world full of good friends, which has only one drawback- none of the rest of humanity can get to that place.
"Robbie, can't you just be patient with Stevie for a little longer?" said Step. "He doesn't hate you. He loves you, he really does. He just isn't able to show it as much right now. A year from now you'll look back on this time and you'll say-"
"Don't say 'a year from now,"' said Robbie disgustedly.
"Why not?"
"That's what Mommy always says. 'A year from now you'll look back and laugh."'
His imitation of DeAnne was dead on. Step had to laugh. "Can you do my voice?"
Robbie immediately deepened his voice and said, "Life's a bitch, ain't it?"
"Bitch," said Betsy.
Step was appalled. "I've never said that to you."
"No, you say it to Mom when you think we're not listening," said Robbie. He was very proud of himself.
"Well, now I know that you are listening," said Step.
"What's a bitch, Daddy?" asked Robbie.
"It's just a word for a mommy dog," said Step.
"Woof woof," said Betsy.
"Why did you say life's a mommy dog?" asked Robbie.
"That what a mommy dog say!" shouted Be tsy. "Woof woof woof!"
"Believe me, Robbie, when you get older, you won't even have to ask. The answer will just come to you."
Step unfolded himself and stood up. DeAnne was standing in the doorway to the boys' room, jiggling with silent laughter. "If you hold all that laughter inside," said Step, "it might make the baby pop out."
She laughed all the harder-but still silently.
"Could it really make Mommy pop?" asked Robbie.
"No, Road Bug, I was joking," said Step.
"Why is it a joke when 1 don't think it's funny," said Robbie,
"But when I tell a joke and you don't think it's funny, then you say, 'That's not a joke'?"
"Because I'm the official funny-decider of America," said Step. "Back in 1980 when they elected Ronald Reagan to be president, I got elected to be the national funny-decider, and so if I say it's a joke it's a joke, and if I say it isn't it isn't. Next year they'll elect somebody else, though, because I'm not running again."
"Is that true, Mommy?" asked Robbie.
"What do you think?" asked DeAnne, her eyes wide in a mockery of innocence.
"I bet this is a joke, too," said Robbie.
"You are right indeed, my brilliant boy," said Step.
"If Mommy's laughing does that mean you aren't going to yell at each other anymore?" asked Robbie.
At the word yell, Betsy opened her mouth and let out a fullthroated holler.
"Betsy, don't do that!" said DeAnne. "They can hear you on the street. People will think we're child-abusers."
"We weren't yelling at each other," said Step.
"Yes you were," said Robbie.
"We were arguing because we didn't agree about something," said Step. "That happens sometimes. And maybe we got too loud because we both care very much about the thing we were discussing."
"What were you discussing?"
Thank heaven he didn't understand the actual words we said, thought Step. "We were talking about stuff that only grownups talk about."