Sleeping Beauty by Judith Michael

comfortable, clear-cut, manageable. And when they’re not, we turn tail and run. Like a bunch of cockroaches scared by the light. We’re no better than that.
    He was still sitting there two hours later, when Vince and Charles walked in. “Not you, Charles,” Ethan said. “Close the door behind you.” He waited until Charles was gone. “How long did it go on?” he asked Vince.
    â€œJesus Christ, Dad, not again,” Vince protested. He sat in a leather chair in the corner of the library. Behind him shelves of books reached to the ceiling, and illuminatedglobes of the world stood about the room on mahogany stands. He put his feet on a leather hassock, crossing the ankles. “We went through this a dozen times last night. I told you, I don’t know what got into her. I haven’t a clue why she picked me. She’s got a lot of problems, you know. Rita was right about her being unpopular, and she didn’t like school—”
    â€œHow do you know that?”
    â€œI don’t; how could I, for sure? But whenever somebody asked her about school at dinner she didn’t seem excited, or even much interested. Did she? To you?”
    â€œI don’t know,” Ethan replied, troubled because he had not noticed.
    â€œMy guess is, she was into drugs. I wouldn’t say that to Charles, but that’s what I think. God knows what kind of group she got in with at school—well, if God doesn’t, Marian might—” He smiled briefly at his father; then his face became somber. “I’ve worried about her for some time, you know. I worry about all the young people today; they seem so lost. Too much drugs and alcohol and rebellion. But I worry about you, too, Dad. You can’t blame yourself for Anne’s craziness. She’s enough of a grown-up to know she has a responsibility to her family, and if she walks out on us, we can’t say it’s our fault; we have to let her go. I’m not saying we shouldn’t do our damndest to find her, and I’ll help all I can, but if she’s really gone, I think we should accept her decision and not get all worked up over it. I have a feeling she’ll be fine. Underneath all that posturing and smart-aleck talk, she’s a pretty strong girl.”
    There was a long silence in the library. Ethan listened to the echo of Vince’s satisfied voice. In his memory, he saw Anne as a child, with gangly arms and legs and heavy black hair falling over her eyes, alone most of the time, trying to get attention in ways that often were rude and even wild. Once Ethan had watched her in the garden, talking to herself. A lonely, vulnerable little girl who never really felt at home in Marian’s house.
    For the first time, Ethan felt the pain of Anne’s loneliness.He saw again her desperate face at the dinner table as she said those terrible words, and then her crumpled figure, crushed and defeated by the wavering of her family.
    â€œAre you feeling all right?” Vince asked. “Can I get you anything? Tea? It’s about that time, isn’t it? I’ll ring.”
    â€œShe was telling the truth,” Ethan said.
    Vince had been halfway out of his chair. He jerked upright. “You don’t mean that.” He stood with his weight on one foot, his hands in his pockets. “She was lying, Dad; I told you. I told you it wasn’t true.”
    â€œI heard you. I believe Anne.”
    â€œYou can’t believe her! Dad, she was lying! Kids lie; everybody knows that. You wouldn’t choose her over me; you’re my father, for Christ’s sake!”
    His head thrust forward, his hands flat on his desk, Ethan contemplated Vince in silence.
    Vince let out his breath. His body grew slack. He took one hand from his pocket and spun the globe beside him, gazing at it pensively. With his other hand he made a small gesture of helplessness. “I don’t know how to convince you. I