That morning, a line from an Emily Dickenson poem was running over and over in my thoughts. It's meaning was obvious; it's relevance to my life painfully evident.

She rose to his requirement, dropped the playthings of her life.

Washing dishes, not thinking about anything, my hands submerged in soapy, warm water. Rose to the requirement.

It was going to be a warm day, I could feel the heat rising and the house hadn't cooled off the night before. I had plans to go to the beach with Joan and her children. I dressed in the bathroom because Jeff was still asleep. I put on my bathing suit and over it I wore a white cotton shirt. I tied it at the waist. I pulled on a pair of navy blue shorts. They had a nautical feel with brass buttons on the sides. Everything in my life was so routine that I realized that while I went through the motions –brushing out my curls and spraying my hair, putting on my make up, selecting an outfit—I didn't take any notice of myself in my life anymore. I sat on the bench and slipped a pair of light blue wedge sandals. I tied the laces around my ankles. I sat back for a moment. I could see my reflection from where I was sitting. As I stared at my own image, I had the strangest feeling of being an imposter. I felt like I was wearing a costume; my bathroom reflected back looked like a stage set. It was a surreal, artificial feeling. I'd had dreams with the same disconnection with reality. It was unfamiliarity with myself and my world. Then it came again, Dickenson's words.

Dropped the playthings of her life.

It was over and over like that all morning.

A little later I was rushing to pack up things for a day the beach. I was to pick up Joan at 10:00. It was 8:30 and I could hear the boys screaming and running around the backyard. I'd told them to go to the garage and find their beach toys and the fold up chairs. I looked out the window and Charlie was chasing Jeffery with a plastic shovel. Jeffery looked like he was enjoying it, but I could tell from the look on his face that he was close to the tipping point. That's how it was with them, Charlie always pushed him to the point of frustration. Only then would Charlie be satisfied. I walked over to the back door. When I opened the screen the air smelled fresh. The jasmine grew along the back patio and it was a burst of sweetness.

"Charlie stop it! Now. You are trying my patience."

He ignored me but Jeffrey ran towards me quickly. Charlie grabbed his shirt and pulled Jeffery to the ground. I walked out and when I got close enough Charlie released Jeffery. He was glaring at me.

Jeffery seemed no worse for the wear, and once let free he rushed into the house.

I was about to scold Charlie when I could see from his expression that something had upset him.

I bent down to his level, "what is it, darling?"

Tears came to his eyes and he moved closer to me. I put my arms around him and he started crying. I held him for a moment then pulled away a little. I wiped his tear. He had Jeff's blue eyes and out in the bright light after crying they were a deep royal blue.

"Sweetheart, what's gotten you so upset? Did something happen."

Again he didn't answer and moved in close to me. I kept my arm around him and let him cry for a short while. When he finished he pulled away and his face retained a worried look. When I stood up he walked away from me and into the house. It crossed my mind that it had only been a couple of months since the incident at the lake. He probably couldn't tell me what he was feeling because there would have been no way for a child to understand or explain the feelings that came along with such an act of violence.

When I got back into the house, I heard Charlie and Jeffery lugging some things from their bedroom out into the living room. Charlie was overseeing the packing. Ordinarily I would have gone into the room and told them they couldn't bring half of the things they'd gathered but since something was bothering Charlie, I let it be.

Joan was bringing her three children; twin daughters and a boy about my boys' age. She had suggested we invite the husbands since it was Saturday but I told her I didn't think Jeff would want to but she was welcome to invite Ted. She thought better of it. We'd planned to let the children play on the shore of Lake Michigan while we drank gin and tonics and talked.

I'd made a stack of baloney and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. I packed them into the largest picnic basket we had. I didn't know how long we'd stay and I didn't want to have to leave because one of the children was hungry. I'd also prepared pudding the night before and put them in individual sized baby food jars. I included biscuits and a watermelon.

Jeff walked into the kitchen. "What are you doing? What's all the fuss?"

"We're going to the beach with Joan." I said, still focused on my work.

He walked to the stove and poured himself a cup of coffee. He looked sleepy. "Who's Joan?"

"Maybe I didn't tell you about her. She's my friend from the poetry group."

He poured milk in his coffee then leaned against the counter looking at me. He took a sip. "will you be gone all day?" He yawned.

I turned to him and studied him a moment. He looked handsome as usual. He was wearing striped cotton pajama bottoms and a white t-shirt. Ordinarily he wore a robe but it was so hot out. "We won't be back until dinner time. Most likely." We had made love the night before and I had the urge to go over to him and put my arms around him.

"Who's Joan?"

"I just told you. From my group." I turned back and continued packing.

"I know, but—are you going to be gone all day?"
'Yes."

"It's Saturday though."

"Aren't you going into the studio?"

"I don't know. I don't have to."

I let out a deep breath and placed a stack of napkins in the basket. I walked over to the cabinet near to him and removed several large jars. There was a pitcher of lemonade on the counter and I poured it into the jars. As I was tightening the last lid he walked closer to me.

"you look cute," he said. The way he said it sounded matter of fact but when I looked at him, his eyes were full of charm. "Why don't you stay home?"

"Why?"

"We could go somewhere."
"Don't be silly."

He took another sip of coffee.

"You know," I said. "At first she thought that we should invite the husbands too."

He didn't say anything.

"But I knew you wouldn't want to."

"Why wouldn't I?"
"Because I know you. You'd rather be at a country club drinking gin and tonics by the side of the pool then spend the day on the beach with another family eating sandwiches, building sandcastles, getting drunk."

"Are you angry with me?" He was calm. "Did I do something?"

"Can't you take any responsibility?" I realized I was thinking about my conversation with Joan about everything that had happened. My eyes met his. I stared at him for a long moment.

His face grew concerned. I felt he could see how deeply I felt. "Are you angry with me, Eve?" he repeated.

"Why did you have to ruin everything?" I asked. I turned with two of the lemonade jars and put them in the basket.

"What have I ruined?"

"It's all right here in front of us. It wasn't my fault. None of it was. Practically everyday we talk about the lake as if it was this crazy mess that we both created—"

"It was. We did—"

"No. Let's stop lying about it. You did. I've acted like I'm complicit in something that is not my fault. I've been letting you take your problems out on me. You ruined our marriage."

'What are you talking about? Because I don't want to go to Lake Michigan with a bunch of—I'm sorry I don't want to sit around in Bermuda shorts on the beach and drink mai tais with people like that. Talk about the latest football scores."

"It's not about the beach. our marriage is over."

"So it is."

I walked closer to him. I wanted to rush towards him and hit him. "You would have killed me." I stared into his eyes. "I would be dead right now."

He took a deep breath and let it out. He ran his hand through his hair.

"You aren't going to respond?" I pressed.

"I can't respond. There's nothing to say. I can't respond."

"So you admit it? You would have killed me. You were capable of it?"

He shook his head. "I don't know."

"I know."

He nodded slowly.

"Why do you have that side of you? Honestly what caused you to be so violent?" I raised my eyebrows and waited.

He looked like a small child. "Nothing."

"Did your father hit your mother?"
I saw a moment of rage pass through his eyes. It was there that was where all of his violence came from. Once I said it I realized it was obvious. Neil was a hateful man.

"Can we knock this off?" He protested.

"I know. I know he did. And now you hit your wife. Jesus you could have killed your child."

He shook his head and looked down. "I'm sorry, Eve. I really don't think I could have killed you. Or Charlie."

"What if the gun had gone off. You would have killed both of us. Or you would have killed your son's mother in front of him."

He shook his head and looked back at me. I could see how much regret he felt. "I honestly don't think I could have gone through with it."

"But you don't know, do you?"

He shook his head. His eyes met mine. It was a strong confession. "No."

"Do you think any other man in the world would say that with such uncertainty. You and I both know that you are capable of it. Jesus." I put the last jar of lemonade into the basket and closed it. I started out of the room and I turned back to him. "You didn't have to say that about Joan and her family either. She's my friend. I endured your arrogant group for years."

I always loved the beach, particularly on a day like that one. The sun beat down and made my skin feel hot to touch. The sand near scalding and although that wasn't so nice, the water was so cool and refreshing in comparison. As a result the children spent most of the day in the water or on the shoreline where the sand was cool. day was warm and the beach was crowded. I sat with Joan on a blanket drinking gin and tonics. Clara had finally warmed up to Joan's ten year old twin girls. When we first picked up Joan and the kids, the two girls had climbed in the back with Clara and Joan's son and my two boys climbed all the way in the rear of the wagon. For a short time Clara just stared out the window and the other two girls stared straight ahead. The boys started wrestling and screaming in the back and one of them accidentally hit one of the twins, Susan, in the head with a flailing leg or arm. Susan turned and scolded them, "boys you are behaving horribly." The other twin Mary turned to the backseat also, "I don't want to have to tell you again." I saw Clara's interest pique. She too was a bossy older sister. Immediately the three girls struck up a conversation about how much trouble younger brothers were and it was too much for them all to try and keep them in line. The three had a seriousness about them. Joan and I just exchanged glances as I drove. I smiled to myself. Joan was such a close friend and we were becoming more alike. There we were both in our swim cover-ups, big sunglasses and thick headbands. We were practically chain smokers and we practically knew what each other was thinking.

"Did you bring the book?" She asked, her window was rolled down hair and blew into her face. She pulled it back and held it there before she rolled her window back up half way.

"I have it in with the picnic." I said. I tossed my cigarette out the window.

"What do you think?" The whole poetry group was reading Second Sex by Simone de Beauvoir. Kate could not get over what a significant event in history this book was. Not only did she think that it completely dissected everything about our current understanding of womanhood, but what was even more remarkable to her was that it was a best seller. "it's like an invisible fertilizer," she'd said at one of our meetings. She had been holding up the thick text and shaking it slowly as if to underscore the significance. "Things are going to change. I can't wait."

I scanned the beach for the kids. The boys were right on the shoreline digging what looked like a large maze of roads and waterways in the sand. Jeffery and Charlie had brought trucks and cars with them and they and Joan's son Warren were immersed in their work. The girls were sitting together, Clara in the middle. They were at the edge of the shore, talking and periodically kicking their feet in the shallow water.

Joan and I were laying on the blanket side by side. "Did you ever think about going back to school?" she asked me. She took a cigarette out of the pack between us and then scooted the pack over to me. When I finished pouring another two cups of gin and tonic from the thermos I lit one myself.

"What do you mean going back?"

"to college." She said, lighting and then taking a deep drag on her cigarette.

I lit mine too. I had honestly never once thought of going to college. I didn't even know why I would want to. Nothing in my life required it.

"I haven't ever thought about it."

"Oh," Joan said, she turned on her back and sat up.

I sat up too. "Have you?"

"I started college but back then I wasn't really interested."

"I didn't know that." I said.

"But they have a program now where if you go to training for six weeks in the summer—it starts in just a month. If you do training then you can teach school and you would have to take the college classes in the afternoons."

I stopped at looked at her for a long moment. She was more serious than I'd ever seen her. "that's wonderful. I think you would be a wonderful teacher."

She smiled. "I know as hard as I am, I love little children. I'd teach kindergarten I think."

"I can't get enough of you Joan. I really can't."

We were quiet for a moment scanning the water and I did a mental count of the children. The boys had now staked claim to a large portion of the shore for their roads. It was so crowded that it seemed that someone would mind their monopoly on the prime real estate. But, no one seemed to care. They just carefully walked around the area, tip toing so as not to disturb anything.

Joan turned to me. "I think you should too, Eve."

"What?"

"that is if you want to."

"I should what?"

"Have you ever thought about teaching? You're so smart and you love children."

I drank down a few gulps of my gin and tonic. The alcohol's euphoria, the summer's heat and the peace I felt with people I loved nearby gave me a sense of hope. I could have spent the rest of my life like that. And being there with Joan and the children. All the ugliness of my home life had evaporated in those few hours. I felt so comfortable with Joan that there were no insecurities when talking about my family, or writing.

I was thinking about going back to school when Charlie walked over with a mischievous grin on his face. I was taking a sip when he came close and leaned his icy cold body against mine.

"That's cold, Charlie."

He stepped back and stood there dripping wet.

"Why would you do such a thing?"

"I want some lemonade."

"Why don't you take some down to the water and a couple sandwiches."

"Can't I just take the basket?"

"No. It will get wet and full of sand. I don't want you to."

He stared at me and put his hands on his hip. "I'm taking the basket." He said and leaned down to pick it up. I stood and held on to the handle.

"Don't you talk to me like that. Do you want to sit here on the blanket until you are ready to behave yourself?"

He glared at me. I shook my head. I bent down and removed the jar of lemonade from the basket and the small stack of plastic picnic cups. "Here just take this and tell the others to come get their sandwiches when they're hungry."

He reached and took the drinks. The jar looked big and he was trying to figure out a way to manage it with the cups. He finally settled on cradling the jar and cups somehow like you'd carry a baby.

Before he turned to walk away I asked "what do you say to me?"

He flashed me an angry look and turned back towards the water.

"Charlie!" I said. I was in disbelief over his disrespect.

He stopped and waited to me.

"Look at me."

He did as I'd asked. I was sure he knew how serious I was about him sitting on the blanket while his brother and friend played down near the water.

"Thank you momma." He said with a note of sarcasm too old for his age. Then stomped back. I didn't know it was the hot sand or his anger. I sat back down.

"God," I said to Joan, taking a sip of my drink and then, "he's such a pill!"

"It's all right. I know how it is. It's starting younger, I would never have spoken to my parents the way my kids do to me. I'm probably too permissive." She took a long sip of her drink. She finished it and placed the cup next to the blanket in the sand.

I shook my head. "No. Charlie's been upset lately. He was crying for no reason this morning."

"Well, he's been through a lot."

I nodded and watched his little figure navigate the people on blankets, dotting his route to the lake. I knew I hadn't done right by him. I knew I'd hurt him. I was his mother. Jeff wasn't the only one to blame. He sat down and divvied up the cups. I saw him managing to pour lemonade from the large jar. There he was, in charge again. So much like his father in that way.

"He looks fine now." I said to Joan. "Do you want a lemonade?"

"Yeah. Maybe a little break from the gin."

I poured us two drinks and we both sat up and watched the children in silence for a short time.

"So?" she looked at me. "what do you think about coming with me to the teacher's information meeting."

"Really, you see me as a teacher?"

"I do."

"I have honestly never once thought of myself that way."

'I don't know. It's not for everyone, but I wonder if you should come along with me to the meeting next week. Just come. You can think about it in the mean time."

"I'm 33 years old. Isn't that a little late?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "I am too. So what, Eve? Why shouldn't we start over?"

It seemed the day kept growing warmer. I was tired from the drinks and too lazy to round up the kids so we stayed much later than I'd planned. We didn't pack up and get back to the car until near 5:30. Most of the beachgoers had gone. The lifeguards were still on their chairs, but it seemed the teenagers were invading, getting ready to set up bonfires. The kids were burnt to a crisp. I'd forgotten in all my talk and drinking with Joan to have them cover up. We were all burned.

By the time I dropped off Joan and her kids, and drove back to our house, it was well after 6:30. Miriam offered to supervise baths and give the children dinner if I wanted to go freshen up and change. I walked into our bedroom and Jeff was sitting on one of the chairs by the window. He was drinking scotch. I walked in slowly and he just watched me without saying anything. He looked tired.

I sat on the bed across from him, "I'm sorry." I said softly. I looked down at the ground for a moment then back up at him.

"Did you have fun?" he asked.

I nodded. "I'm sorry for what I said before we left."

"Eve it's true. Of course I witnessed terrible violence when I was a child, maybe I hadn't thought about it until you said it. Of course its true." He let out a deep breath but kept his eyes on me. "Eve, the other thing is also true. I would rather be at a country club drinking martinis. I would rather have a nanny and a private dinner with my wife. I don't mean to be condescending. This all is very charming. The way we've been the last few months. Like Ozzie and Harriet--"

I rolled my eyes, "we're hardly-"

"Let me finish. It's not in my nature. I want the Goddamned black tie events, the privileges. I want all that. And-- I want my wife a certain way."

I knew what he was saying was really how he felt, but it hurt more than I would have imagined. I felt that we'd grown closer in the last couple of months; maybe we wouldn't stay together but I felt he was seeing into my world. But he'd just confessed that I wasn't what he wanted.

"Is it really so bad this way?" I still had my swimsuit on under my beach cover up. I felt a burn on the back of my neck. I rubbed my neck.

"Did you get burned?" he asked.

His previous sentiments lingered, they echoed. My feelings were so hurt. "No." I looked down, half aware then I said, "yes. I mean yes I did get burned." He was still looking at me, waiting for me to respond to what he'd told me. "I thought you liked me." I whispered, "that's all. I thought you liked me."

"I love you, Eve."

Around 8:00 I went to check on the children. I walked into Charlie and Jeffery's room. After the night at the lake Charlie asked to share a room with Jeffery. Of course Jeffery was over the moon. He moved half his toys off of the shelves and tried to push his own bed across the room, to open up space for Charlie's bed. When I walked into their room, only their nightlight illuminate it. Charlie was in bed with Jeffery, they were already asleep. The sun and playing on the beach had worn them out. I walked over and sat on the edge of their bed and watched them. Charlie had his arm around Jeffery and was sleeping close to him. I wanted to cry. Charlie had been so traumatized by the night at the lake. Why did I bring my child into that situation? Why hadn't I thought it through. I pulled the covers up and kissed them both on the forehead. Jeffery opened his eyes and looked at me, his eyes reflected the dim light and he smiled a sweet smile. "I love you," he whispered.

"I love you too. Go back to sleep." Jeffery rolled over and fell back to sleep. I closed the door all but a crack and walked the short way down the hall to Clara's room. She was still up, sitting in bed reading Little House on the Prairie. She was on her third in the series. She didn't talk with me about the books but every now and then she would reference the book, like one time we'd run out of bread and Miriam said she would pick up some as she was going to the fabric store any way.

Clara spoke with a practical, almost wistful tone, "I think we should do without until we've earned enough money to buy more." She also asked me if she could have part of the garden to grow the family vegetables. Sometimes I'd see her out in one of the private garden areas. I'd watch her without noticing my presence. It looked to me like she was pretending to tap maple syrup and cook it in a big pot. One time I saw her picking grass and long Iris spears, tuning them into what looked like a little doll. She laid down on the cement bench and pretended to cuddle it as she fell asleep. She was such a funny sweet girl, mostly hiding her creative or artistic self. When it came out it seemed she took herself so seriously. Maybe it was the age and being the eldest sister to two rambunctious little boys. Maybe it was Jeff's influence. She was always his favorite and I imagine she wanted to live up to his expectation. Charlie certainly didn't. I got the sense that since I'd been Charlie's mother before we moved to Chicago, he saw Jeff as a rival. Charlie immediately loved his siblings, but he had a defiant way with Jeff that always got him in trouble.

I walked into the room.

"Hi momma, come in."

"I wanted to say goodnight."

"Sit next to me on the bed," she said and patted the bed.

"Are you enjoying your new book."

'I'm almost finished."

"But we just got it for you. You're a fast reader."

She looked at me for a long time. Her round face was red from the sun. It made her eyes look bluer. She was so pretty. Her face took on a look of worry. She furrowed her brow and she frowned slightly.

"What is it Darling?"

"I love you more than anyone." She said softly, keeping her gaze fixed on mine.

"I love you and your brothers more than anyone."

"More than daddy?"

I paused for a moment and took her hand. "That's two different kinds of love I told her."

'You didn't have to come and take care of us,"

"I wanted to." I turned my head and looked at her. Why did she worry so much?" I took a deep breath and let it out.

"Do you remember your mother?"

She nodded.

"I'm sorry she died."

"I only remember a little."

I nodded.

"I know Daddy hurts you. I wish there was a way I could stop him."

"I don't want you to feel like you have to take care of me, Darling. I can take care of myself."

"I don't want you to die too."

"I'm not going to."

"I love daddy too." She looked down as though she were ashamed for saying it. Her eyes filled with tears and she put her hands over her face. I reached over and gently guided her hands down. Then I lifted her chin and moved closer, took her in my arms. She moved closer and put her arms around me.

"You have no reason to feel bad because you love daddy. Do you know that he tells me all the time how proud he is of you?"

She looked up at me and wiped her eyes.

"And, do you know how much he loves you? I want you to love him. He's your father."

I kept my eyes on her for a moment.

"you were going to leave Jeffery and me behind."

"I'm sorry I did that to you." I felt the guilt and heartache rising up inside me. "I would have come back. I promise."

She started crying, it was a quiet pain. Her face full of anguish but her cries muffled. Tears streamed down her face.

"will you stay with me?" She asked.

"Of course," I moved into her bed, put my arm around her and sat against the headboard. She leaned against me and continued to cry. I waited until she fell asleep. As I sat there I realized how much this was hurting the children, all of them. I had been seeing it as what am I to do about my marriage. I'd forgotten that hinging on that decision were these three little ones. I hadn't considered how much my choosing to stay had torn them apart.

Later I went into the front room and sat on the couch. I poured a scotch and lit a cigarette. I'd brought a pad of paper and a pen with me and had the urge to write. Maybe just my thoughts. Maybe a poem. It was all so sad to me. Our house was full of unhappiness and pain. I saw it in all of us. No one could keep it in anymore.

my heart, a tomb, pious stone flesh

If I am nothing, clinging, heartily knowing I am clay

you are religion, you are my stone pages

reading death, bringing songs to dimly lit gardens