I put the book down and went outside in the afternoon sunshine. The
motel was run by a young married couple, and I watched the woman come
out and put her baby in the playpen. She was laughing and talking to
it; she looked happy; so did the baby.
But _I_ wouldn't be. Not even if they let me. I couldn't live here and
bring up a child--children?--on this primitive, almost barbaric,
world. Never ever be able fully to communicate with anyone. Never,
ever, be entirely honest with anyone.
Then I remembered what it was like to be in Larry's arms, and wondered
what kind of communication I could want that might surpass that. Then
I went inside and took a shower and began to dress for the evening.
It was too early to get dressed. I was ready too soon. I went out and
got in the car, and pulled out onto the highway and started driving. I
was halfway up the mountain before I knew where I was going, and then
I doubled my speed.