"Can't you see he likes it?" said Charlene, and she giggled. "He thinks he's the baby's aunt.
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It was true that Bob liked being alone with the baby. Those were his happiest times. He could talk to Andrew. He could sing his absurd songs, feeling foolish and at the same time blissfully content.
"Baby-my little baby," he would whisper. It was as if his love for Walter had somehow extended to Walter's son.
So the months passed. Andrew walked and talked. He was dutifully fond of his mother and father. He adored his Uncle Bob.
It was, "Read to me, Uncle Bob," and "Play ball with me," and "Take me to the park."
One night, as he was putting Andrew to bed, Bob heard Charlene and Walter come in. Usually when they went out for an evening they came home late. Afterward he thought they had probably come home early because they had been quarreling. He heard their voices rising sharply.
"To bed, to bed, you sleepyhead," said Bob, and he swung Andrew up and plumped him down in his crib.
"Go to sleep now." He bent over to tuck in the covers.
Andrew reached up and pulled his head down and kissed him. "I love you, Uncle Bob," he said.
And then Charlene was in the room. Her face was pale. Her eyes were blazing.
She said, "What the hell are you doing to my baby?"
Bob straightened.
"You couldn't have my husband, so you started to work on his son—is that it?" She was coming toward him. "You get out of here, you son of a bitch, and if you ever put a hand on my baby again, I'll kill you!"
He was sick that night. He was sick the next day at work.
When he got home, the car was parked in front and Walter was loading things into it.
Walter said, "We're moving out. I guess that's no surprise to you."
"Where are you going?" asked Bob.
"A place on the other side of town. Charlene and Andrew went on ahead." "You don't believe I'd that there was anything to what she said?" Bob cried out, "Good God, you can't believe it!"
"Keep calm," Walter said uneasily. "I don't believe it, and I don't think Charlene believed it either. She just got excited. But you have to admit she has a point. What I mean is, how would it look to an outsider if he knew-well
-the whole business?"
"You can't take him away from me," said Bob.
"We have to think about what's best for Andrew, don't we?" said Walter.
Bob looked into his face. "You're fixing it so I won't ever see him again.
And I won't see you again."
"Sure, you will. I-I'll be around after things settle down."
"No, you won't," said Bob. "No, you won't-no, you won't!"
"For God's sake," said Walter, "do you want to tell the neighbors!"
He got quickly into the car and drove away.
Bob stood for a while, looking down the empty street where the car had disappeared. Then, moving stiffly, as if he had suddenly grown old, he climbed the steps of the empty house.
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