He remained in the dark by the side of the house. The couple at the far side of the pool kissed. Tony imagined the passion in that kiss, began imagining.... He stopped his thoughts. Who the hell is it? he asked himself. He bore his eyes into the darkness. He could make out Aunt Helen’s silhouette. She stepped back, adjusted her dress. His jaw clamped down tight. The rock, the foundation upon which he was built, suddenly turned to sand. His hand edged to the house for support, stabilization. Aunt Helen stepped briskly into the glow from the pool, then to the back door and inside.
Tony’s stomach began to turn. He focused in on the man. Quietly he circled the edge of the yard. John Pisano lit a cigarette, faced the pool. Tony emerged from the shadows, noiselessly approached his father’s back
