Dr. Morris was saying, “…necessary to perform an autopsy.”

Jennifer said quietly, “If you touch my son again, I’ll kill you.”

And she smiled at everyone around her because she did not want them to become angry with Joshua.

A nurse was trying to persuade Jennifer to leave the room, but she shook her head. “I can’t leave him alone. Someone might turn out the lights. Joshua is afraid of the dark.”

Someone squeezed her arm and Jennifer felt the prick of a needle, and a moment later a feeling of great warmth and peace engulfed her, and she slept.

When Jennifer awakened, it was late afternoon. She was in a small room in the hospital and someone had undressed her and clothed her in a hospital gown. She rose to her feet and dressed and went looking for Dr. Morris. She was supernaturally calm.

Dr. Morris said, “We’ll make all the funeral arrangements for you, Mrs. Parker. You won’t have to—”

“I’ll take care of it.”

“Very well.” He hesitated, embarrassed. “About the autopsy, I know you didn’t mean what you said this morning. I—”

“You’re wrong.”

During the next two days, Jennifer went through all the rituals of death. She went to a local undertaker and made the funeral arrangements. She selected a white casket with a satin lining. She was self-possessed and dry-eyed and, later, when she tried to think about it, she had no recollection of any of it. It was as though someone else had taken over her body and mind and was acting for her. She was in a state of deep shock, hiding behind its protective shell to keep from going insane.

As Jennifer was leaving the undertaker’s office, he said, “If there are any special clothes you would like your son buried in, Mrs. Parker, you can have them brought in and we’ll dress him.”

“I’ll dress Joshua myself.”

He looked at her in surprise. “If you wish, of course, but—” He watched her leave, wondering if she knew what it was like to dress a corpse.

Jennifer drove home, pulled the car into the driveway and entered the house.

Mrs. Mackey was in the kitchen, her eyes red, her face twisted with grief. “Oh, Mrs. Parker! I can’t believe—”

Jennifer neither saw nor heard her. She moved past Mrs. Mackey and walked upstairs into Joshua’s room. It was exactly the same. Nothing had changed, except that the room was empty. Joshua’s books and games and baseball and skiing equipment were all there, waiting for him. Jennifer stood in the doorway, staring at the room, trying to remember why she had come there. Oh, yes. Clothes for Joshua. She walked over to the closet. There was a dark blue suit she had bought for him on his last birthday. Joshua had worn it the evening she had taken him to dinner at Lutèce. She remembered that evening vividly. Joshua had looked so grown up and Jennifer had thought with a pang, One day he’ll be sitting here with the girl he’s going to marry. That day would never come now. There would be no growing up. No girl. No life.

Next to the blue suit were several pairs of blue jeans and slacks and tee shirts, one with the name of Joshua’s baseball team on it. Jennifer stood there running her hands aimlessly over the clothes, losing all track of time.

Mrs. Mackey appeared at her side. “Are you all right, Mrs. Parker?”

Jennifer said politely, “I’m fine, thank you, Mrs. Mackey.”

“Can I help you with something?”

“No, thank you. I’m going to dress Joshua. What do you think he would like to wear?” Her voice was bright and cheerful, but her eyes were dead.

Mrs. Mackey looked into them and was frightened. “Why don’t you lie down a bit, dear? I’m going to call the doctor.”

Jennifer’s hands moved across the clothes hanging in the closet. She pulled the baseball uniform from the hanger. “I think Joshua would like this. Now, what else will he need?”

Mrs. Mackey watched helplessly as Jennifer went over to the dresser and took out underwear, socks and a shirt. Joshua needed these things because he was going away on a holiday. A long holiday.

“Do you think he’ll be warm enough in this?”

Mrs. Mackey burst into tears. “Please, don’t,” she begged. “Leave those things. I’ll take care of it.”

But Jennifer was already on her way downstairs with them.

The body was in the mortuary’s slumber room. They had placed Joshua on a long table that dwarfed the small figure.

When Jennifer returned with Joshua’s clothes, the mortician tried once again. “I spoke to Doctor Morris. We both agree that it would be much better, Mrs. Parker, if you would let us handle this. We’re quite used to it and—”

Jennifer smiled at him. “Get out.”

He swallowed and said, “Yes, Mrs. Parker.”

Jennifer waited until he had left the room and then she turned to her son.

She looked into his sleeping face and said, “Your mother is going to take care of you, my darling. You’re going to wear your baseball uniform. You’ll like that, won’t you?”

She pulled the sheet away and looked at his naked, shrunken body, and then she began to dress him. She started to slip his shorts on him and she recoiled from the icy cold of his flesh. It was as hard and stiff as marble. Jennifer tried to tell herself that this piece of chill, lifeless flesh was not her son, that Joshua was away somewhere, warm and happy, but she was unable to make herself believe it. It was Joshua on this table. Jennifer’s body began to shake. It was as though the cold inside Joshua had gotten inside her, chilling her to the marrow. She said fiercely to herself, Stop it! Stop it! Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!

She took deep, shuddering breaths, and when she was finally calmer she resumed dressing her son, talking to him all the while. She pulled his shorts on, then his trousers, and when she lifted him up to put his shirt on, his head slipped and fell against the table and Jennifer cried out, “I’m sorry, Joshua, forgive me!” and she began to weep.

It took Jennifer almost three hours to dress Joshua. He was wearing his baseball uniform and favorite tee shirt, white socks and sneakers. The baseball cap shadowed his face, so Jennifer finally laid it on his chest. “You can carry it with you, my darling.”

When the undertaker came and looked into the room, Jennifer was standing over the dressed body, holding Joshua’s hand and talking to him.

The man walked over and said gently, “We’ll take care of him now.”

Jennifer took one last look at her son. “Please be careful with him. He hurt his head, you know.”

The funeral was simple. Jennifer and Mrs. Mackey were the only ones there to watch the small white coffin being lowered into the freshly dug grave. Jennifer had thought of telling Ken Bailey, for Ken and Joshua had loved each other, but Ken was no longer in their lives.

When the first shovelful of dirt had been thrown on the coffin, Mrs. Mackey said, “Come along, dear. I’ll take you home.”

Jennifer said politely, “I’m fine. Joshua and I won’t be needing you any more, Mrs. Mackey. I’ll see that you get a year’s wages and I’ll give you a reference. Joshua and I thank you for everything.”

Mrs. Mackey stood there staring as Jennifer turned and walked away. She walked carefully, standing very straight, as though she were going down an eternal corridor wide enough for only one person.

The house was still and peaceful. She went up to Joshua’s room and closed the door behind her and lay on his bed, looking at all the things that belonged to him, all the things he had loved. Her whole world was in this room. There was nothing for her to do now, nowhere for her to go. There was only Joshua. Jennifer started with the day he was born and relived all her memories of him.