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Forces Some people imagine it's the normal thing, but don't you believe it. So I went to my own bed, missing Stanley terribly, but filled with longing for Jack. We had had twin beds, and after Stanley died I had his moved out to the porch, as an extra for when my children visit. But my bed should have been shifted too. It was aligned exactly wrong, with the head to the East wall, under my collection of Japanese fans, and the foot to the West. I sometimes indulged myself, at bedtime, in a fantasy about how I would get it turned around. I would ask Jack to help me move it. Then when we were grappling with the bed I would — well, the details varied from one time to another, but I'm sure you can guess the outcome. These were not mere airy fancies, you understand. They were my entire sex life, except for the occasional fantasy featuring one of the yardmen. Having been an avid reader since the age of six, I'm quite skilled at bringing imaginary scenes to life. Afterwards, of course, I felt guilty about Polly. Waiting for someone's wife to die is bad enough, but one sees so much of it around here; it's Nature's way, I suppose. Wanting to have Jack right now, rehearsing it in my mind, was another matter. Before I slept, I would say a prayer asking God to forgive me and to make Polly go into a miraculous remission. That night I lay there for a long time waiting for sleep. I could feel the lines of force running crosswise through the room; it was like lying in a canoe being bumped and jostled by sideways waves. Even in my sleep I was uncomfortable: I kept coming half-awake and thinking, "I must get this boat turned tomorrow" and dropping off again. And there was a siren. It seemed to go on a long time, winding around and around our hill. I thought I was probably dreaming it. I also dreamed about Jack. He was with me in the boat, strapping Polly's oxygen tank to my back; he wanted me to go scuba diving off the long pier on Mariposa Beach. He said there were beautiful flowers down there, hidden among the rocks, and I should bring some up for Polly. I kept telling him that the tank was too heavy, it would pull me down and drown me. But he wouldn't listen, and then I was cold and sinking, with the weight on my back like a stone. . . . The phone woke me before eight the next morning — too early to be anything but bad news. My heart was beating hard even before I heard Polly's voice saying, "Grace, I have something sad to tell you. Very sad. Are you sitting down?" "Lying," I said. I thought my God, something's happened to Jack, this is my punishment. <<| 1
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