Hadley turns to me and he looks like he’s been wounded. “What do you know?”

Oliver ignores what’s going on between Hadley and me. He takes a step towards his daughter, holding out his hand but not quite touching her. “Rebecca, are you all right? Did he hurt you?”

Hadley looks at me, as if to say: Don’t do this to me twice. Stand up for me, now. Please. Believe in me.

I keep eye contact with him, and he nods, just the slightest bit. I turn to Rebecca. There’s something wrong here, any fool could tell that from the way she’s just lying there. “Can you stand up?” I say, stepping close.

When Rebecca shakes her head, which looks like it takes up all her energy, Hadley moves back next to her. He props her up by her shoulders. “She came to me. She hitched. We were headed to your place today to work this all out.” He’s shouting, I wonder if he knows.

I look from Hadley’s face to Oliver’s He’s got this look in his eyes that I didn’t see even yesterday morning. I have never seen it on a human. It’s the way raccoons get, when they’re rabid. They walk right up to you, even though normally they’re scared shitless of people, and they just attack, scratching and biting and clawing. It’s like they have no idea where they are, or how they got there. They’ve just absolutely gone crazy. “Hadley,” I say real slowly, trying not to set Oliver off, “I think you’d better let Rebecca come home with us. And I think you’d better stay here for a while.”

Hadley glares at him, a vein in his temple pulsing angrily. “You know me,” he says. “You’ve known me forever. I can’t believe . . . I cannot believe that you’d doubt me.” He walks towards me, so close I could reach out and just touch him, tell him it’s over. “You’re my friend, Sam,” he says. “You’re like my brother. I didn’t tell her to come here. I wouldn’t do that.” He swallows; I think he’s about to cry. In all the years, I’ve never seen him do that. “I’m not going to turn my back. I’m not going to let you take her away.” He looks at Rebecca. “Jesus, Sam, I love her.”

He takes a step backwards, towards the chasm, and I lean forward, worried about his safety, but Rebecca lurches forward between us and throws her arms around Hadley’s knees. Hadley crouches, holding her and brushing back her hair.

It is at this moment that Oliver loses control. “Let go of her, you bastard!” I grab his arm and pull him back. “Let go of my daughter!”

I kneel, eye-level with Rebecca and Hadley. “Give her to us, Hadley,” I whisper. “Give her to us.”

Rebecca’s face is pressed into Hadley’s shoulder. He talks to her quietly,and from the words I catch over the calls of circling hawks, I think he is trying to convince her to come to us.

“You have to go with them,” Hadley says. He lifts her chin with her finger. “Don’t you want to make me happy? Don’t you see?”

I start to wonder if this is going to turn out all right. Oliver stands with his fists at his side, watching Rebecca as if there is a wall between them. I imagine it is next to impossible to see your child grow up; even harder when it comes in a matter of minutes.

Rebecca and Hadley are struggling. She clutches him, and Hadley is trying to push her away. Watching them, I have started to believe. I think I am on their side, now. In spite of Oliver, in spite of Jane. For the last time, Hadley looks at me, and he’s begging for just five minutes. Five lousy minutes.

Because I am looking into the sun to give them privacy, I don’t really know what happens next. All of a sudden, Rebecca and Hadley tear apart. In the effort to push her towards me, he falls. I see all this through blind orange sunspots, my own fault. And then Rebecca is in my arms, tiny and hot with sweat, reaching back towards the cliff as Hadley falls over the edge.

I will remember many things about that day in years to come, but the thing that will stick with me most vividly is Rebecca. Just that second her eyes clear, and she begins to scream. It isn’t a scream, though, not really; it’s the howling of an animal. I recognize it as the sound of death, and it never surprises me that it comes from her throat instead of Hadley’s. I will remember that noise, and the way Rebecca looks over the edge of the cliff when none of us have the nerve. She rips the shirt she is wearing at the buttons and rakes her nails over her chest. All three of us-three men-just stand there, not doing anything; not knowing what we are supposed to do. We are speechless. She tears at her flesh, scoring her legs and her arms. We all watch the blood from the marks she’s made seep into the earth.

They bring her back to me swathed in bandages. Her eyes are open but she isn’t looking at anything. Even when I stand right over her, she doesn’t see me. From time to time she says things about fire and lightning. She stood up during the second night, screamed at the top of her lungs, and got out of bed. She walked around the room, stepping over obstacles that were not there, touching her hand and shrieking from the burns. Then she sat on the floor, crouched, her head bent over her lap. When she looked up she was crying. She was calling for me.

Sam and Oliver drift in and out of the room at different times. They have both tried to get me to leave her side, but how could I do that? What if she chose that minute to regain consciousness, and I weren’t there?

When Sam comes in, he sits behind me and kneads my shoulders. We don’t say much to each other; he is just a presence for me, and that’s plenty. When Oliver comes in, he sits on the opposite side of the bed. He holds Rebecca’s other hand. As if she completes the circuit, when we are like this we can talk. I tell him what I feel for Sam, and it doesn’t hurt so much to reveal the truth. I tell him how it makes me feel to be in love like this. I do not apologize; it’s too late for that. And as for Oliver, I have to say he does not accuse. Instead he accepts what I have to say, and he weaves tales for me. He has become an expert storyteller. He reminds me of mishaps that occurred when we were dating; of escapades on our honeymoon to retrieve lost luggage, to find long-dormant hostels. He tells me together we can survive anything.

Oliver is in the room when she comes to. I have been tracing the hand-painted design on the edge of the walls, wondering what Sam’s mother is like, when Rebecca’s fingers move in my hand. Oliver looks up at me; he has felt it too. Rebecca opens her eyes, bloodshot and crusted, and coughs violently. “What’s the matter with her?” Oliver says. Anxious to do something, I press a towel against Rebecca’s forehead. Oliver holds tissues against Rebecca’s chin, catching the phlegm.

Finally, thankfully, Rebecca stops. She sighs-actually, it is more like she deflates. Oliver strokes her arm gently. “Baby,” he says, smiling down at her. “We’re going to go home. We’re getting out of here.” I do not say anything. I don’t care what he says. I will do anything-if Rebecca comes back whole.

Rebecca makes a motion to sit up, and I quickly stuff a pillow behind her back for support. “Tell me this,” she says. “Hadley’s dead?”

I don’t think Oliver has come to terms with this; with Rebecca’s ability to fall in love. I would not have believed it either, but I was there to witness it. Oliver looks at me, and then he gets up and leaves the room.

I don’t know why she has asked. Does she know for sure? Is she just looking for a corroborating witness? “Yes,” I say, and just like that, all the light drains out of my daughter’s face. I am afraid I am going to lose her again. Once you make the decision you want to die, nothing can bring you back. I start to cry, and I apologize to her. I’m sorry for thinking she was too young. I’m sorry for sending Hadley away. I’m sorry, just sorry, that it had to come to this.