hell up or he'd arrest them. I just stood there looking from one distorted
face to another, listening to this babble of enraged squabbling as the
members of the Walls family gave vent to all their years of hurt and
anger, each unloading his or her own accumulated grievances and
blaming the others for allowing the most fragile one of us to break into
pieces.
The judge sent Maureen to an upstate hospital. She was released after a
year and immediately bought a one-way bus ticket to California. I told
Brian that we had to stop her. She didn't know a single person in
California. How would she survive? But Brian thought it was the
smartest thing she could do for herself. He said she needed to get as far
away from Mom and Dad, and probably the rest of us, as possible.
I decided Brian was right. But I also hoped that Maureen had chosen
California because she thought that was her true home, the place where
she really belonged, where it was always warm and you could dance in
the rain, pick grapes right off the vines, and sleep outside at night under
the stars.
Maureen did not want any of us to see her off. I rose just after first light
the morning she was scheduled to leave. It was an early departure, and I
wanted to be awake and thinking about her at the moment her bus pulled
out, so I could say farewell in my mind. I went to the window and looked
out at the cold, wet sky. I wondered if she was thinking of us and if she
was going to miss us. I'd always had mixed feelings about bringing her
to New York, but I'd agreed to let her come. Once she arrived, I'd been
too busy taking care of myself to look after her. "I'm sorry, Maureen," I
said when the time came. "sorry for everything."
AFTER THAT, I HARDLY ever saw Mom or Dad. Neither did Brian. He
had gotten married and bought a run-down Victorian house on Long