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It's not a baby. It's a blob. It's a nothing on a TV screen. And it's a threat to our sanity, and our life together. Don't you understand that? We can't do this! He shouted at her, and she glared at him and said nothing. 7 can't do it, then. I won't do it, and you can't force me! I've been through this before, and I'm not going to be pushed into having a kid at my age. You have to have an abortion. He wanted to shake her, but he would never have hurt her, even in his total outrage.

I don't have to do anything, Jack. And I'm not some bimbo trying to force you, or trick you, into marriage. I didn't want this either. But I'm not going to be forced into doing something I don't believe in because you're too chickenshit to deal with a little reality here. I am pregnant, and it is our baby.

And you are crazy. It must be the hormones. Oh my God, I can't believe this, he said, shoving the car into gear and heading toward Bel Air, to her house. Look, he said, turning to her as he sped down Rodeo, you can do whatever you want, Amanda, but I'm not having this baby. I'm not doing night feedings, and earaches, and Little League. I'm not going to make a fool of myself going to his college graduation when I'm ninety.

You'd only be eighty. Eighty-two to be exact. And what's more, you're a coward. And as she said it, she began to cry, and he tried to control himself and reason with her.

Look, sweetheart ' I know how you must feel. It's a shock. First we thought there was something terrible wrong with you, and now you're pregnant. You're not thinking clearly. An abortion is a terrible thing. I know that. I understand it. But think what this would do to your life, never mind mine. Do you really want to start all over again? Driving car pool at sixty?

You seem to do all right driving at your age. I'm sure I could manage to hold on to my license for the next nine years, if I work at it. And no, this isn't what I'd have chosen. I'm not stupid. But it wasn't my choice, or yours, it was God's. He gave us this incredible gift. We don't have the right to just throw it away. ' She was crying again as she looked at him, trying to reach him. But she could see it was hopeless, and she bowed her head and just cried then. Jack, I can't do it.

You never told me you were religious, he said sadly, feeling betrayed, and sorry for her, but angry anyway. She had no right to do this to him. Dori never would have.

I feel very strongly about this, she said, in a small, clear voice as they pulled up in front of her house and he looked at her.

So do I, Amanda. And nothing you say is going to sway me. I won't be a part of it. I don't want to know anything about it. If you have an abortion, I'll be there for you. I'll hold you. I'll cry with you. I'll love you forever. But I am not going to be forced into having a baby at my age. And he meant it.

Other men your age do it all the time. Especially here, in L.A. Half the fathers I see in my gynecologist's office with their thirty-year-old wives out to here, she showed him and he almost winced, are older than you are.

Then they're senile. I'm very clear about how I feel about this. I'm out of here, Amanda, if you have this baby.

Good-bye then, she said, looking at him with sudden hatred. Do whatever the hell you want, it's your life, but this is mine, and my body, and my baby. And you can't have any of it, so to hell with you, Jack Watson. Go back to all your stupid bimbos, and I hope you knock them all up. You deserve it.

Thanks for playing, he said as she got out of the car, and slammed the door so hard it rattled everything in it. And she never looked back as she ran to her house, unlocked the door, and disappeared inside it.

Five seconds later, she heard the Ferrari roar away, and sat down in the front hall and sobbed. She had lost him. She had lost everything ' but she wasn't going to give in. She had no choice now. She was going to have the baby. But what in God's name was she going to tell the children?

The next three days were a nightmare for both of them. For the first time in years, he even shouted at Gladdie. She didn't know what was wrong with him, but whatever it was, she knew it was Big Time. And the fact that Amanda wasn't calling hadn't gone unnoticed. He didn't even take Julie's or Paul's calls, when they phoned him. He spoke to no one.

And Amanda locked herself in her house and acted as though she had gone back into mourning. Louise came by with the kids, and she wouldn't let them in. She told them she had a migraine, and she looked it. She looked awful.

What's wrong with Mom? Louise finally called Jan to ask her if she knew anything, but all Jan knew was that her father-in-law wasn't talking to Paul either. Maybe they broke up, the sex friends. Please God, tell me it's true. Hallelujah.

'Oh come on, Lou, Jan chided her older sister, and Louise was startled.

What, are you on their team now?

No, but you know, they are adults, and Daddy's gone. Maybe they have a right to do what they want, as long as they do it discreetly.

Don't give me that. They're disgusting, Louise said bluntly.

Whatever happened to all that stuff you said after Daddy died, about Mom having a right to her own life now, and all that? Maybe we don't have a right to interfere, or even to disapprove. What makes us the source of all judgment?

Shit, Jan. What did you do? Find religion? She's your mother. She's behaving like a slut. She's having an affair.

She's single and she's over fifty. She has a right to do whatever she wants. I'm beginning to think we all behaved like jerks when she told us.

Well, I don't. And I just hope he dumped her.

Maybe she dumped him.

Just so someone did it.

But by week's end, Amanda still wasn't talking to anyone, and no one had seen her. And both girls were worried. In truth, she was sitting around and crying all the time, from the emotions, and the shock of losing Jack, and the hormones. She felt as though her life was over, and yet at the same time she was overwhelmed at the prospect of a new life just beginning. But she couldn't imagine a life now without Jack. She hadn't heard a word from him since she'd last seen him, and he hadn't even called her.

He was shouting at every employee who crossed him and working till midnight every night. And when he got home, he just sat on the couch, staring into space, trying not to think of her and how she'd betrayed him. He still couldn't believe it. How could she do this to him? It wasn't her fault she'd gotten pregnant, not entirely, but the fact that she wouldn't get rid of it seemed like the ultimate betrayal. And then, just as he'd be thinking how angry he was at her, he would suddenly remember something she had said, or done ' or the way she looked when he made love to her, or in the morning when she woke up, and he missed her so much he thought it would kill him. But he was determined not to call her.

But all he could think of, all he dreamed or knew or wanted was Amanda. She was driving him crazy. And he walked down the beach at Malibu for hours on Sunday morning. He swam, and then he ran, and then he just sat there, looking out to sea, thinking of her, and he knew he couldn't stand it. He had to call her.

He fought with himself about it all that afternoon, and at eight o'clock that night, he called her. He didn't even know what to say. He just wanted to hear her voice again. Just for a minute. But he wasn't going to see her. There was no point now. He didn't want to get sucked into this insanity she was creating.

But when he got through, her machine was on, and she didn't pick up. She didn't even know he had called until the next morning when she checked it. She hardly ever bothered to check the machine now. For the first few days of their estrangement, she had checked it hourly. But she gave up by the weekend. It had been eight days now. But finally, he had reached out to her. She almost couldn't believe it. She'd begun to think that he had vanished out of her life forever. She listened to the message, and he sounded strained and uncomfortable. He said he just wanted to make sure she was okay, and feeling well. And then he had hung up. She erased the message and went back to bed. All she wanted to do was sleep now. She was exhausted. She remembered that from her earlier pregnancies, only it was worse this time. She was even more tired. She wasn't sure if it was her age, or the fact that Jack had left her. But whatever it was, she slept eighteen hours a day now.

She never returned his call, and by Tuesday, he wondered if she had gotten the message. Maybe her machine wasn't working. This time he dialed her from the office, between meetings. And he said almost the same thing he had said the first time. She heard it late that night, and wondered why he was calling. Why bother? He had made his position clear. She never wanted to see him again, or talk to him. She cried while she listened to it and went back to bed with a bowl of ice cream. That was all she ate now.

The only calls she did return were from her daughters. She didn't want them to drop by, so she figured she'd better call them. She told them she had a terrible virus, and was taking antibiotics and she'd get back to them when she felt better. Neither of them believed her.

She's lying, Louise said when she called Jan on Tuesday. She sounds fine, physically. Maybe she's having a nervous breakdown.

Why don't we just leave her alone? Jan suggested. But that night she told Paul she thought the romance was over. He thought so too. His father was behaving like Godzilla.

I ran into him this afternoon. He looks like he hasn't combed his hair in a week, and he acts like he's going to kill someone. I think she dumped him.

Maybe he dumped her, Jan said sadly, wondering if it was their fault, and feeling guilty about it. Her mother didn't deserve what they had done to her, but there was nothing they could do now.

And when the cleaning lady came she found Amanda watching daytime television. She had become addicted to the soap operas and talk shows where women cried about their husbands who were sleeping with the neighbor, a German shepherd, and at least two of their sisters. She watched them, and cried, while eating ice cream.

I'm going to get fat, she announced to the television set one afternoon, eating her second bowl of ice cream. So what? she answered. She was going to get very, very fat, and no one decent was ever going to speak to her again. And Jack Watson was a bastard. He was probably back to sleeping with starlets.

But instead, Jack was still shouting at Gladdie and making everyone miserable. It had been nearly two weeks now.

Look, could you do me a favor, Gladdie said finally on Friday afternoon after two weeks of his insane behavior. Could you at least talk to her? Maybe you two can work something out. If not, you're going to drive the rest of us crazy. This entire office is becoming candidates for Prozac, thanks to you. Just call her.

What makes you think I'm not talking to her? he asked sheepishly, wondering how Gladdie always knew everything. He thought she was psychic.

Have you looked at yourself lately, Jack? You shave twice a week. God knows when you last combed your hair. You've worn the same suit for three days. You're starting to look like a homeless person. Believe me, this look is not good for business.

I'm sorry. I've been upset, he said, looking as miserable as he felt. This was almost worse than when he lost Dori. Because Amanda was right here, only minutes away, and he still loved her. That was the bitch of it. But he had behaved like a monster to her, and she hadn't returned any of his phone calls. He had called four times now. Besides, she doesn't want to talk to me, he said sadly, and Gladdie patted his shoulder like a mother.

Believe me, she does. She probably looks worse than you do. What did you do to her anyway? She figured it was his fault, or he wouldn't be feeling so guilty.

You don't want to know, he said, shamefaced.

Probably not, Gladdie admitted. Why don't you go over and see her?

She won't let me in. Why should she? I walked off on her when she needed me. ' I threatened her, Glad. ' I was a total asshole.

She probably loves you anyway. Women are like that. They have a lot of tolerance for assholes. In fact, some women even love them. Go see her.

I can't. He looked like a kid as Gladdie shook her head in exasperation.

I'll drive you. Just do it

Okay, okay. I'll go tomorrow.

Now, she said, closing his appointment book. You don't have any appointments, and no one here can stand you. Do everyone a favor. Go see her. Or I'm starting a petition.

You're a pain in the ass. He grinned at her and stood up. He looked better already. But I love you. He looked down at her fondly. Thank you. If she slams the door in my face, or won't let me in, I'll be back in ten minutes.

I'm going to start lighting candles, she said, as he rushed through the door, anxious to get there, to see her, to tell her what he'd been thinking, and praying that she'd see him. He was at her house in less than five minutes in the Ferrari. And he rang the doorbell forever, but she didn't answer. He wasn't sure if she was home. The garage door was locked, so he couldn't see if her car was in it. But he walked around the house and started knocking on her bedroom windows.

And as she lay in bed, watching Oprah, she heard it.

She thought it was a bird at first, or a cat, and then she began to panic. She thought it might be a burglar, checking to see if anyone was home. She was going to call 911, and then she decided to go to her bathroom window and see if she could see someone by peeking through the curtains. She tiptoed into the other room, holding her panic button to the security system, and then she saw him. He looked terrible, and he was still tapping on her window.

She opened the bathroom window then, and stuck her head out. What are you doing? She looked as bad as he did. She hadn't bothered to comb her hair in days, it was just pulled back and stuffed into an elastic, and she hadn't worn makeup since she last saw him. Stop that! she shouted at him. You're going to break the window.

Then let me in, he said, smiling at her. It was so good to see her, but she only shook her head. She looked miserable, and he thought her face looked a little fuller. She actually looked very pretty.