uld."

"Why did you come?" She reddened. "Well, go then!" She looked around
and picked up a book from the table next to the bed. "Go!" She threw it
at him. He ducked sideways and walked downstairs. She followed him,
shouting "Go!" As he went out the front door, a glass shattered against
a wall. "Get _out_ of here!" The other glass smashed and he heard her
begin to cry.

The Jeep started and he was on the road again.

8.

Oliver drove a mile and stopped, ears buzzing from wine and the violent
emotion. He saw Jacky again, sitting up on the bed, one hand across her
heart, and he felt a stab of pain and longing. It wasn't too late to
turn around. They could put the pieces back together; he could serve
her, and she would take care of him. Why not? What else was he going to
do? He searched around in the glove compartment and found a Willy
Nelson tape. Might as well have the real thing. _On the road again . .
._ Shit. He pounded the steering wheel once and kept going.

Philadelphia. He made it past the city and began to wear down. He
didn't need to hurry--Arlen wasn't expecting him home for a couple of
days. He turned off the highway and stopped at a motel. He put his bag
on a chair and lay down for a moment. Had he done the right thing? Or
was he just running away from commitment? He was in a bind. He couldn't
stay in a submissive relationship with Jacky, but the more powerful
that he felt as an individual, the lonelier he became and the more he
wanted her--or someone.

Pie. At least there was pie. Somewhere. He drove down the road until he
came to a diner. Two state cops were drinking coffee at one end of the
counter. A truck driver and three construction workers sat at the other
end. Oliver sat between the two groups and sank further into his
feelings. Thirty-five and what did he have to show for it? Six thousand
dollars and a cat. An old Jeep.

He finished his apple pie and watched the double doors to the kitchen
swing shut behind the waitress. The swinging doors dissolved into dark
water. He saw Owl overboard, holding his head above the waves. "Find
your father," Owl said. Oliver's eyes opened wide. Owl _had_ said that
once. "Someday, you should find your father."

Oliver thought hard. He had to do something. It was good advice. He
made up his mind to try.

"More coffee?"

"Uh--yes. Please."

Oliver took a deep breath and peeled the top from a creamer. He poured
the liquid into his coffee and watc