~ ~ ~



He says, “Hello, Viv,” and extends his hand. She says, “Are you hiding?” but he seems sanguine, almost good-natured about it. “Yes,” he says, “for a while.”

“How long?”

“I don’t know. I’m not sure. Maybe it will not be so bad, maybe I will be able to leave the city at night.”

Upset, Viv says, “I’m sorry that I got you in this much trouble.”

“But you do not make the trouble,” the journalist assures her, “others make it. You asked a question that you have a right to answer.”

“My daughter someday will want to know who her mother is.”

“Of course,” he answers.

“She’ll hate me if I haven’t tried to find out.” She begins to cry and stops herself.

“Everyone who loves your daughter understands this.”


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