； a reconciliation that was always
tense and never happy； but a reconciliation all the same。 When she took Danny to
the house； she went without Jack。 And she didn't tell Jack that her mother
always remade Danny's diapers； frowned over his formula； could always spot the
accusatory first signs of a rash on the baby's bottom or privates。 Her mother
never said anything overtly； but the message came through anyway： the price she
had begun to pay （and maybe always would） for the reconciliation was the feeling
that she was an inadequate mother。 It was her mother's way of keeping the
thumbscrews handy。
During the days Wendy would stay home and housewife； feeding Danny his bottles
in the sunwashed kitchen of the four…room second…story apartment； playing her
records on the battered portable stereo she had had since high school。 Jack
would e home at three （or at two if he felt he could cut his last class）； and
while Danny slept he would lead her into the bedroom and fears of inadequacy
would be erased。
At night while she typed； he would do his writing and his assignments。 In
those days she sometimes came out of the bedroom where the typewriter was to
find both of them asleep on the studio couch； Jack wearing nothing but his
underpants； Danny sprawled fortably on her husband's chest with his thumb in
his mouth。 She would put Danny in his crib； then read whatever Jack had written
that night before waking him up enough to e to bed。
The best bed； the best year。
Sun gonna shine in my backyard someday 。。。
In those days； Jack's drinking had still been well in hand。 On Saturday nights
a bunch of his fellow students would dr