Jennifer Haigh by Condition

nagging by Paulette, she refused to consider contacts.
    "That's wonderful, Gwen. Good for you." He spotted her suitcase and swung it easily from the belt. Gwen was a famously light packer.
    She'd learned long ago not to pack more than she could carry.
    "Is that everything?" And then, with a twinkle: "No pocketbook?"
    Gwen rolled her eyes, and they both laughed. Paulette was outraged at Gwen's refusal to carry a pocketbook. It was a dialogue Frank had witnessed many times—years ago, when his presence was tolerated at school functions and graduations.
    But where do you keep your wallet? Paulette would demand.
    In my pocket.
    What about your lipstick?
    I don't wear lipstick.
    If you carried a pocketbook , Paulette insisted, you could start.
    They headed for the car-rental counter. "Reservation for Gwen McKotch," Frank told the clerk, a bald Latino with a lobeful of earrings.
    "Where's the driver?" he asked.
    "Here," Gwen said.
    The clerk looked down at her, and frowned."Can I see a license?"
    Gwen fished in her pocket and handed over her driver's license.
    He stared at it a long time, his eyes returning twice to her face, which had flushed a deep red. Frank understood that his daughter's life was full of such moments, the stares of strangers trying to figure out what she was. At thirty-four, Gwen was four feet eight, the height of an eleven-year-old child. Even her voice was childlike, clear and high pitched. In elementary school she'd been a regular soloist in the school choir, with a voice that astonished her teachers: more boyish than girlish, the joyful banshee cry of a young hooligan making mischief. A voice with perfect pitch, remarkable in its clarity and power.
    The clerk handed back her license."All right," he said uncertainly.
    "We got you in a Chrysler LeBaron. Or for an extra thirty bucks, you can get a Cadillac."
    Frank knew without asking that Gwen had requested a tiny Ford Festiva, as she did every year.
    "The LeBaron is a mid-size," he told the clerk."The reservation was for a compact." He could hear the counselor's voice in his ear: She's a grown woman. Let her fight her own battles. But she shouldn't have to, he thought, glancing at Gwen's scarlet cheeks. She shouldn't have to fight at all.
    "I didn't take the reservation, so I don't know what she asked for," the clerk said. "But don't worry. I ain't charging her for the upgrade."
    Finally Gwen spoke. "That's not the point. I can't drive a midsize."
    The clerk's eyes widened."I'm sorry. I didn't think."
    "No problem," Gwen said, putting away her license."It isn't your fault."
    They retrieved Frank's Saab from the parking garage and began the slow rush-hour crawl toward downtown. The clerk had been unable to locate a compact. Screw the counselor , Frank thought, and stepped in to give the guy a dressing-down. His outburst hadn't changed a thing—Gwen still had no rental car—but Frank couldn't help himself.
    "That jackass," he fumed. "A simple car rental. How difficult is that?"
    "Dad, don't worry about it." Gwen fumbled under the passenger seat and found the lever to raise it.
    "They can bring the Chrysler to the house tomorrow morning," Frank suggested."Billy can drive it up to Concord."
    "That won't work," Gwen said.
    "Why not?"
    "Bad news, Dad. Billy isn't coming."
    Reflexively Frank slammed on the brake. "What do you mean, not coming?" He glanced over at his daughter. She sat strapped into her seat, staring straight ahead.
    "He's on call tonight."
    "When did that happen?" Disappointment pressed on his chest like a bully's hand, goading him into a fight. "I thought we had a plan."
    "I don't know the details, Dad. Just that he's on call."
    "Why didn't he tell me? Would it have killed him to pick up the phone?"
    "He's pretty busy. Honestly, I hardly hear from him myself."
    Frank eyed her suspiciously. When Gwen clammed up, there was no way to pry her open. Billy phoned him twice a year, on his birthday and Father's Day, and responded politely to his