"I'm sorry," Griffin said.

"Oh, it's... It was a long time ago. But thanks for listening,Griffin."

"You don't have to thank me for listening to you, Ellen."

"It feels like I do, though. Because before, you never wouldhave... This is very different, okay?"

Now he was irritated. "What do you mean?"

"Well, like... Do you remember when we had that parakeet, Huey?"
He stared at her. "Yeah?"

"Remember that time I worked with him almost all day, to teach himhow to sit on my finger?"

"I guess so."

"Well, I asked you to try it. I told you how wonderful it felt,how his feet were so scratchy and his weight was... well, it was kind ofthrilling, this tiny little force on your finger! I asked you totry it, to just put your finger in there and let the bird sit on it. Andyou got all pissed off. You said, 'Just let me do things bymyself. I don't need you to show me things all the time!'"

"I said that?"

"Yes."

"Really?"

"Yes!"

"Well, Jesus, Ellen, hold a grudge, why don't you? You're angryover something that happened over ten years ago! Maybe I was just havinga bad day or something!"

She shook her head, impatient. "No, it's not that I'm still angryabout that. Or maybe I am still mad, I don't even know. The pointis, you were always so unwilling to share in anything with me.Even Zoe. I love her; I know you love her, too, but where did wemeet about her? Where was the we in us as parents?

"You just... you always kept so much of yourself to yourself. Younever seemed particularly interested in me. You wanted me around, but youdidn't want to have to do any work to forge any kind of... You justseemed to want to keep things on a very superficial level. But when youlistened to me, just now, it was like you were really there.Working. Do you know that?"

"What I know is that you just said everthing in the past tense.As though there's no chance that..." He took in a breath, looked at her."Ellen. Don't you think we could try again? Can't we just start over, ina way, and--"

She stood. "No. It's too late. Too much has happened."

She went to the closet, took out her coat and slid it on. "I'msorry." She closed the door softly behind her.

He sat at the table until he heard her car drive away. The hewent upstairs checked on the soundly sleeping Zoe, and prepared for bed.That parakeet had been green, with tiny streaks of yellow here and there.He'd liked classical and rock music equally, had chirped along happilywith them. He'd liked potato chips and he'd like toast--unbuttered,preferably. Yes, he remembered that bird. Griffin had had his ownrelationship with him that was in no way inferior to the one Ellen had.It was just different. Did she ever think of that, that thingsexperienced in ways different from hers were equally valuable? That theway that he chose to love her was, in fact, loving her, that theface of love depended on the person giving it? Couldn't she see that thedifficulty came not from Griffin withholding, but from her unwillingnessto receive? But he would not confront her with this. Even as he tried toconvince himself that it was true, he was aware of his own self-deception.He admitted, now, if only to himself, his catalogue of intentionalslights, his moments of soft cruelty, his awareness of complicity increating a relationship that could not work.

He lay on the bed, pulled the covers up over himself and closedhis eyes, forced himself to move toward the undemanding island of sleep,