After the first time, Alexis said she felt her cold coming on again, and didn't want to cause Allyson complications, so she waited in the lobby. But Page's mother bravely went upstairs, and would stand chatting with Page at Allie's bedside, for roughly four or five minutes. Mostly, she talked about what they were going to do that day, and tried to talk Page into going with them. And at the end of the week, she insisted she take Page and Brad out to dinner.

Page tried to broach it to him one of the rare times she saw him that week. It was Friday afternoon by then, and she was beginning to wonder when Alexis and her mother were going to leave, their presence had worn thin right from the beginning. And Brad was using the opportunity of their being there to disappear now on a daily basis. He hadn't been home for dinner once all week, coming home way past midnight and leaving early in the morning before they got up. And one night, he had stayed away all night without calling.

“She wants to take us to dinner somewhere,” Page explained, trying not to lose her temper, or confront him for the nights he had spent out without calling. “To tell you the truth, I'm not sure I could stand it.”

“She seems all right this time,” he said calmly.

“Really?” Page snapped at him. “When did you figure that out? In the four seconds it took you to hang up their bags, or the ten minutes you haven't spent with them since then. How the hell do you know how she is? I haven't even seen you since Sunday.”

“Oh for chrissake …stop it. What do you expect me to do? Baby-sit your mother? She came here to see Allie.” Which was something he was doing less and less too, with the excuse that he was busy.

“She did not come here to see Allie,” Page said unpleasantly. “She came here to see Chanel, Hermes, and Cartier. And they've had a lovely visit.”

“Maybe you should have gone with them,” he snapped back at her, “you might be in a better mood. And God knows, you might look a little more like your sister.” He was sorry the moment he said the words, but there was nothing he could do to unsay them.

She laughed bitterly at him. “There isn't a single real piece or part left on my sister's face or body, and if what you wanted is that piece of plastic nothing, then be my guest.” She raged at him, but she was hurt by his comment. She had spent three weeks at Allie's bedside, and she knew she looked a mess, but she didn't have the time, or the energy, or the heart, to look any different. She didn't care how she looked right now. All she wanted was for Allie to wake up from her coma.

In the end, Brad agreed to go to dinner with them on Saturday, and they went into the city, and had dinner at the Fairmont, at Mason's. Page had pulled her thick blond hair straight back, in a ponytail, and worn a plain black dress, and no makeup. She looked the way she felt, bleak, unhappy, and Alexis, on the other hand, was wearing a white silk Givenchy dress which showed off her rail-thin figure, and the deep décolletage showed off her implants nicely.

“You look terrific,” Brad said pleasantly, and she smiled at him. But there was no seduction there, no interest on her part. She was interested in how she looked, and what she wore, and very little else. And her husband understood that. There was no woman there, just a form and a beautifully made-up face with perfect features.

Alexis and her mother were talking about staying another week, and at the mere mention of it, Page looked frantic. She had already waited on them for seven days, and brought them camomile, mint tea, Evian, cold packs, hot packs, breakfast, lunch, dinner, fresh sheets, more pillows, and she had had to go out and buy an electric blanket for her mother. They did not answer the phone, pour themselves so much as a glass of water, they couldn't figure out how to work the TV's in their rooms, and neither of them was comfortable with Andy. As usual, they were totally useless.

They had seen Allyson a total of three times in a week, all told for probably less than fifteen minutes. It was exactly as Page had predicted it would be to Trygve.

“I think you should go home after the weekend,” Page said firmly, and her mother looked horrified at the suggestion.

“We couldn't possibly leave you alone with Allyson,” she insisted, and for once, Page was speechless.

Brad was pleasant to both of them, and particularly Alexis, who said very little to any of them.

And once they were back at home again, and the sitter had left, Brad told Page quietly that he was going out for the rest of the evening.

“At eleven o'clock?” She looked startled, but she shouldn't have. He hadn't been there all week, and this seemed to be his style now. In the past three weeks, the entire fabric of their marriage had unraveled. She just looked at him and nodded.

“I'm sorry, Page,” he tried to explain. “I'm caught between a rock and a hard place.”

“Yeah,” she nodded again, and unzipped her dress, “I know. So is Allie.”

“That has nothing to do with this.” But they both knew it had everything to do with it. It had blown them apart, and it was more and more obvious that they weren't likely to recover.

She walked into the bathroom then, and when she came out, he was gone. She went to bed, and lay awake for a long time. Lately, she had more and more trouble sleeping. She thought of calling Trygve, but that didn't seem fair. She didn't want to bounce from one to the other.

And in the morning, over breakfast, her mother told her how lucky she was to have Brad. Page said nothing, and drank her coffee. She said he had turned out to be a fine man, and a very good husband.

Page went to see Allyson alone, and left Andy with them, despite their protests that they wouldn't know what to do if he had a problem.

“What if he has to go to the bathroom?” her mother said, panicking. It was hard to believe she'd had two children, and been a physician's wife, and been so completely helpless.

“He's seven years old, Mother. He can take himself. He can even make you lunch, if you want it.” She was amused to think that her seven-year-old son was more capable than they were, but he was, by a long shot.

She talked to Trygve for a long time that afternoon and admitted to him how tired she was, and how discouraged. It was hard for her, having her mother there, it was demoralizing her, and he could sense it.

“What is it about her that upsets you so much?” he asked, she was so funny about them sometimes, and so deeply depressed about them at others.

“Everything. Who they are, who they aren't, what they do, what they don't do. They're rotten people, both of them, and I hate being around them, or even having them around my children.”

“They can't be that bad.” He was surprised at the force with which she talked about them, and it was obvious that something about her family had upset her deeply.

“They're why I came out here. Actually, I came out for Brad. But I would have left New York anyway. I didn't want to be anywhere near them. And this was perfect for me.” It was definitely part of why she had married Brad, and it had seemed fine at the time, although now things had turned out to be different. “He's being pretty outrageous right now too, and I'm getting tired of it. It's hard on me, it's upsetting Andy. It's just not fair.”

“I know,” he said quietly, “Andy said something about it to Bjorn the last time he was over. He said that the two of you fight all the time, ever since the accident, and he thinks his sister might be sicker than you're telling him.”

“My mother's been telling him Allie is going to be fine. And that drives me crazy too.” She looked at him then and he could see how tired she was. She was beyond exhausted. Three weeks of the kind of agony she had lived through was too much for anyone, without taking a serious toll on them, and it was taking a toll on her and he could see it.

“Maybe it's time for them to leave.” Enough was enough, if this was what it did to her, but he was in no position to help her get rid of them. He was an invisible friend, and they knew nothing of his existence.

“I said that to them last night, but my mother says she couldn't possibly leave me alone with Allie.” She laughed at the absurdity of it, and he put an arm around her shoulder and kissed her.

“I'm sorry you have to go through all this. What you're going through with Allie is enough without all this bullshit.”

“I don't know … I guess I needed to be tested or something. I think I'm flunking.” She said it with tears in her eyes and he pulled her closer still and kissed her again in the ICU waiting room where no one would see them.

“I think you're doing fantastically, better than A plus.”

“Shows what you know,” she said, and blew her nose. And then she leaned against him and closed her eyes, wishing things would get just a little better. “I'm so tired of it all …Trygve, will it ever end?” But right now there was no easy end to any of it, and they both knew it.

“A year from now, you'll look back at all this and wonder how you survived it.”

“Will I even live that long?” she asked, grateful to have him to lean on, and he spoke gently and firmly as he held her.

“I'm counting on it, Page … a lot of us are.” She nodded, and they sat for a long time in silence before she went back to Allie.

The phone was ringing when she got home that afternoon. It was a friend from the city whom she hadn't seen in months. Allyson and her daughter had gone to dancing school together two years before, and the girls weren't close friends, but they liked each other. She had heard about the accident and wanted to know if she could do anything to help, but Page told her there was nothing.

“Let me know if there is,” she persisted, and then hesitated for an instant. “What's happening with you and Brad, by the way? Are you …getting divorced?” Page was shocked by the question.

“No. Why?” But her blood ran cold as she said it. The woman knew something. It was obvious from the way she had asked the question.

“Maybe I shouldn't be saying anything …but I see him over here all the time with some young girl … I don't know, she must be in her early twenties. I thought she was a friend of Al-lie's at first when I saw him with her, and then I realized she was older. She lives in the next block, and I got the impression he was living with her. Actually, I saw them jogging together this morning before breakfast.” How nice for him. And how nice for him to embarrass her with everyone. It was a small community and now people were seeing him with the girl …Allie's age? …oh God. She felt two thousand years old as she explained that she was a good friend, and they worked together on projects at all hours, and it was nothing.

She knew she hadn't convinced her friend, but she wasn't about to admit to anyone that Brad was involved with someone else. And she was angry that the woman had called her. It was a mean thing to do, and she had to have known when Page said they weren't getting divorced that there was trouble.

“How was Allyson?” her mother asked as she walked into the kitchen.

“The same,” Page said distractedly. “How did you manage with Andy? Did he find the bathroom?” She smiled and her mother laughed.

“Of course. He's a wonderful boy. He made me and his aunt Alexis lunch and served it in the garden.” God forbid they should do anything for themselves for a single moment.

She found Andy playing in his room, and he looked up when he saw her. He looked worried and sad and it tore at her heart when she saw his eyes. All of their lives had changed brutally in the past three weeks, and none of them understood it. They were all like drowning people. She sat down on the bed, and reached a hand out and touched him.

“How was Grandma?”

“Funny,” he said, smiling up at her, as she longed to hold him. “She can't do anything. And neither can Aunt Alexis, her nails are too long to do anything. She can't even open a bottle of Evian. And Grandma asked me to wind her watch for her. She says she can't see it, and she couldn't find her glasses.” He knew them well, and then he looked up at Page with a worried expression. “Where's Daddy?”

“He's in the city, working.” She lied, as always.

“But it's Sunday.” He was no fool, but she didn't want to tell him the truth, and he sensed it.

“He works hard.” The bastard.

“Will he be home for dinner?”

“I don't know,” she said honestly, and then he climbed up on her lap and she held him. She wanted to tell him that she would always love him, no matter what happened with his father, but she didn't want to say too much, so she just told him how much she loved him.