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Max's brother Daniel grabbed his shoulder and swung him around."Max, what are you doing?" he cried.Max stared back into his brother's face. "You BASTARD!" he shouted. With all his might he swung his open hand against the side of Daniel's head, catching him flush on the cheek and knocking him to his knees.Max moved swiftly to the door, opened it, and disappeared, leaving a stunned silence behind him. On the bed Martha was sobbing. Rachael moved to her, grabbing a cloth to wipe the saliva from her face."Mom? Are you all right? What on earth made Dad behave that way?" But Martha didn't answer. When Rachael gazed searchingly into her eyes Martha couldn't face her and silently turned away, still crying.After a moment Rachael looked at Paul and Daniel. "Stay with her," she said. Then she ran out of the room in pursuit of her father.She came running out of the hospital, looking around, out of breath. She saw Max sitting on a bench near the entrance, his head in his hands. She went to him. Heaven only knows where she found that. I could not help but notice their earlier antipathy was gone, as if they had found common ground. This was good. Maria gave Elspeth a willing assistant, which was important. Christine and I needed to suit up.I was dreading this part. Makeup and I had a long, adversarial relationship. To make matters worse, my artist was Jerome, the one who had "helped" me on Tuesday. When he told me he requested the job, I felt worse. Jerome was unsympathetic. His exact words, "You are an impressive woman. Now shut up and play your part." Christine covered her mouth.Taking off the work clothes was easy enough. Jerome put them on hangers and hung them on a rack. Once half naked, I had to sit and let Jerome work conditioner into my hair, brush it out and tie it with the silk bow. So far, so good, said the jumper passing the 20th floor. The face makeup was minimal—eye liner and lip gloss. The underwear was not. It took both of them to pull my corset tight.My first.
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