The thought of going out to see if anything was happening floated around Harry during the commercials, but he just couldnt seem to work up the initiative. He entertained the thought briefly, each time it passed by, but he allowed it to continue on its merry way as soon as the movie started again. Eventually Marion got home, the makeup and cold winds putting color in her cheeks. She shook herself out of her coat, O, its cold out there. It took me forever to get a cab. Yeah, its a bitch. She spent so much time hanging up her coat and straightening out the clothes in the closet that she became selfconscious and closed her eyes and tried to think the tension out of her stomach and a sparkle in her eyes before turning around and facing Harry. Well, I got the money—walking over to the couch, trying to appear relaxed and nonchalant, Here. She handed the money to Harry. Good. We should be able to get straight now. He tried to relax and not just ignore but deny the fact that there was a feeling of embarrassment in the room that was so intense it was almost tangible. Marion leaned back against the couch and crossed her legs and tilted her head and smiled, speaking as offhandedly as possible, What movie is this honey? Harry shrugged, Don’t know. I just flipped it on. You know. Marion nodded and stared at the screen, fighting, fighting, fighting, but she knew it was not only useless, but senseless to sit here trying to pretend that nothing had happened and that everything was just the same and nothing had changed. That was absurd and she involuntarily shrugged as the word rang through her head, she was far too intelligent and aware to allow herself to fall into the selfdelusive trap. She knew she couldnt talk to Harry about it, that that would only make it worse, much worse, but she could not try to deny it to herself. She almost sighed audibly as she reached and accepted the conclusion. What happened happened. She would accept that and just allow it to drift from her mind into some other space and just not say anything to Harry… she shrugged inwardly. No, the chances are that he wont ask. She sighed, then smiled at Harry when he looked at her, then rubbed the back of his neck for a moment, I love you Harry. He kissed her, I love you too. She smiled again and then he turned his attention to the tube and she stared at it for a moment, trying to ignore the horrendous knot gnawing at her stomach, then uncrossed her legs and leaned forward, I think I/ll get off. You want to too? I just had a taste. Go ahead. She smiled again, automatically, and went to the bathroom telling herself she was only imagining that Harry was acting funny. After she got off she sat for a moment allowing all the conflicts to dissolve and bathe her in a comforting warmth and she felt a real smile on her face and she went back to the living room. She put an arm around Harry and rubbed the back of his neck again, then kissed his ear and rubbed his chest and he slowly responded and they held each other, desperately, reaching, groping, for many minutes, the television droning on in the background, then they decided to go to bed and Harry grabbed her and squeezed her harder and harder and she clung to him and kissed him and bit him as he kissed her body trying to work up a passion that would force itself though his body but something was missing, something was cutting off the flow of something and no matter how desperately they tried they couldnt get the physical motions to mean any more than motions and the harder they tried the more they withdrew into their own shells of embarrassment until they mutely agreed to stop trying and they sort of exhausted themselves into a semblance of sleep and release.