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Someone had given her a 'happy pill.' It took several second to remember Steve and the reason why someone would drug her and she then she was furious. At least as furious as the 'happy pill' would allow. Her husband might be dying and no one should try to mute her responses to that. Before she could begin working on righteous indignation, the reason for his heart attack crashed in on her and she was grateful for anything that dulled her awareness. Donna wept.Even with her senses dulled, she felt a kernel of resentment form. This wasn't fair. She was sorry, more sorry than she'd ever been about anything in her life, about what she'd done with Gil. She would do almost anything to make up for it, but it hadn't been this important. Certainly, not important enough to take Steve away from her, to ruin her life. A mindless half hour of sex shouldn't be able to destroy her world. That wasn't fair! Steve's response was all so out of proportion to what she'd done. The act hadn't meant anything. D. . . d. . . don’t you leave me now, Billy Cramer, or you ain’t my best buddy no more.’ ‘Well what’re we gonna do?’ ‘Like I said, we gotta go get us some matches and light the candle again, then maybe say a prayer er sumthin’, then get the heck outta here.’ ‘All right, let’s go.’ The two boys back up slowly, stopping to genuflect , easing out thru the curtain, then running headlong. Mark looks around, finds a large rock, and props the door open a crack, guaranteeing their reentry. Mark’s bike, Midnight’ sits resting in the bike rack, waiting, looking as usual, flat black, sleek and all but invisible in the growing darkness. Billy’s once glorious ‘Silver Phaeton’ lies on its side, one pedal, all the rubber worn off, jammed in the dirt. In moments they are flying down Grant’s hill. Rounding the curve at the bottom, doin about twenty-five, both bikes skid, back ends almost coming clear around, but both recover for the long, long pedal up Grand Avenue. Ignoring the traffic light there,.
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