Joan got up and ran to the kitchen sink and threw up. She got a glass of water to rise her mouth as I gave her time to compose herself. She returned...to the table and plopped down. Her face was still pale and sweat was beading on her forehead. She began to wring her hands and kept shifting in her chair.“NOW,” I said, “the full truth and it had better match the reports I have. The pictures alone speak a thousand words.”“Please, Andrew,” Joan pleaded, “give me some time.”I said, “Why do you. I’d started out the evening staying within Kay’s shadow. Pleasant, yet subdued, my voice soft, those rare instances I talked at all. Sometimes I simply resorted to my own unique brand of sign language which she has (and Cindy is beginning to) learned to translate. The Plums and Peacocks were all theatre people, so they’d done semi-fancy dresses, making me feel less out of place in my Cheshire-wear, for which I was thankful. Still, I felt self-conscious at first which sometimes pushes me further. More

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