had to get to his parents somehow. They didn't know what was happening to him. They wouldn't have left him if they had known. His body was cold but sweat was running down his forehead. He tried to think, but they were on top of him. One of the monsters was holding his ankles, another was putting a tight elastic band around his upper arm, and holding both arms down on the bed. The last one was holding the needle. She came closer to him and bent over. "You're going to be all right, aren't you David?" David's throat ached and he couldn't swallow. A stinging mist covered his eyes. There was nothing he could do now. They were all leering at him, their faces identical painted masks. He felt every muscle in his body strain with tension. The grip on his legs and arms tightened painfully. His breath came in short gasps. A wave of cold washed over him, taking away the tension and leaving nothing. He couldn't fight them. The idea was calming. He felt one warm tear roll down his cold cheek. "I mustn't cry," he thought. "I will be brave no matter what they do." Almost from afar he felt the sharp pain that ran along his arm. He turned his head to look at his arm, but it wasn't really his arm now. The pale limb seemed completely detached from his body. He watched curiously as the blood was drawn into the needle. It was dark at first, then it turned bright red. David knew that all the blood in his entire body was being transferred into that tube. It was odd the way it filled up so slowly. He hoped that his father knew that he had been brave till the very end. David closed his eyes. David jerked both eyes open and blinked rapidly. The nurse who looked like a cocker spaniel was standing over him. He turned and looked down at his arm. There was a small flesh-covered band-aid on it. He looked back at the nurse who was still smiling. She was holding a bright red balloon. On the balloon was a clown's head and the words, FROM YOUR DOCTOR FOR BEING GOOD. "You certainly are a brave boy. I bet your dad is proud of you, isn't he?" David thought he nodded, but he couldn't be sure. He was so happy he wanted to kiss this woman; he loved her. Somehow he had been spared. It was all over and he was still the same. The woman helped him down off the bed and gave him the balloon. "Your Mama is right outside; you can go now." David took the first two steps very carefully, testing to make sure that he was really all right. Then he began running toward the door. Just before he got there he looked around and smiled. He walked proudly into the waiting room, clutching the red balloon tightly. Both his mother and father stood up. They were smiling; they were beautiful; they hadn't left. Both of them walked toward him quickly. David hugged his mother around the neck and gave her a moist kiss on the cheek. His father picked him up easily. David looked into his eyes and smiled. "It wasn't so bad, Daddy." 36 EXISTING EXISTING EXISTING By CHERYL CALL "If I can't exist on my own terms then existence is impossible." Ernest Hemingway. "Elizabeth," her mother called in her best theatrical soprano. "Elizabeth!" It was almost an alpine yodel this time. "Why don't you come in and eat your dinner, dear?" But Beth lay in a big gold recliner in the living room wearing only a short see-through yellow nightgown and she looked very much asleep. "Just a piece of chicken dear come now, that much can't hurt you." In the kitchen her mother looked across the table where Mr. Mockley was bent attentively over a drumstick. "I just don't know what to do with that girl anymore, Arthur." She wiped the corners of her mouth with a napkin. "She hasn't eaten for days. And do you know what time it was when she came in?" Still bent over his plate, Mr. Mockley Arthur said with his teeth bit together over some stringy chicken, "Oh, leave her alone, Corliss." He chewed for a minute and then swallowed and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Bethie's never done anything wrong," he said, looking up at his wife. "And all these years you've been suspecting her." He paused and sipped his coffee loudly and said, motioning with his other hand, "You've just got to let it ride. Just let it ride and she won't disappoint us." Corliss ate the rest of her dinner in silence. Arthur rose from the table presently and belched. "Nice dinner, dear." He patted his stomach. Leaning over and putting his face only inches from his wife's, he said with a simple grin, "Nice dinner, dear." And he patted her head, "Hey, dear, nice dinner." He laughed, enjoying himself. "Arthur, my hair! You've mussed my hair and I only got it set yesterday." "Well," he said ignoring her. Hands on hips he surveyed the yard in front of the long kitchen window. "Well," he said again, "championship game on this afternoon." "I want you to take me to church this afternoon, Arthur. Keep that in mind. An adolescent psychologist is going to speak, so you keep it in mind." "Plenty of time," he said. "Plenty of time." Looking at the clock on the stove, she said, "It's two o'clock now and that game won't be over for hours. It's just not necessary." 37