“Yeah, but still. Where would you guys live?”

“Is this what you’ve been lying here thinking about?”

“A little bit.”

Laurie came to the door. She folded her arms and leaned on the doorpost.

I said, “Where would you go?”

“Buenos Aires.”

“Buenos Aires? Why there?”

“It just sounds like a cool place.”

“Says who?”

“There was an article about it in the Times. It’s the Paris of South America.”

“Hm. I didn’t know South America had a Paris.”

“It is in South America, right?”

“Yeah, it’s in Argentina. You may want to do a little more research before you run off there.”

“Is there a-whaddaya call it? — a treaty, like a fugitive treaty?”

“An extradition treaty? I don’t know. I guess that’d be another thing you’d want to check out first.”

“Yeah. I guess so.”

“How would you pay for the ticket?”

“I wouldn’t. You would.”

“And a passport? You surrendered yours, remember?”

“I’d get a new one somehow.”

“Just like that? How?”

Laurie came and sat on the floor beside the bed and stroked his hair. “He’d sneak across the border into Canada and he’d get a Canadian passport.”

“Hm. Not sure it’s actually that easy, but okay. So what would you do once you got to Buenos Aires, which we know is in Argentina?”

Laurie said, “He’d dance the tango.” Her eyes were wet.

“Do you know how to dance the tango, Jacob?”

“Not exactly.”

“Not exactly, he says.”

“Not exactly, like, meaning not at all.” He laughed.

“Well, you can get tango lessons in Buenos Aires, I would think.”

Laurie said, “In Buenos Aires, everybody knows the tango.”

“You’ll need someone to dance the tango with, won’t you?”

He smiled shyly.

Laurie said, “Buenos Aires is filled with beautiful women who dance the tango. Beautiful, mysterious women. Jacob will have his pick.”

“Is that true, Dad? Lots of beautiful women in Buenos Aires?”

“That’s what I hear.”

He lay back and laced his fingers behind his head. “This is sounding better and better.”

“What will you do there when you get done dancing the tango, Jake?”

“Go to school, I guess.”

“I pay for that too?”

“Of course.”

“And after school?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I’ll be a lawyer like you.”

“Don’t you think you’ll want to keep a low profile? You know, being a fugitive and all?”

Laurie answered for him. “No. They’re going to forget all about him and he’s going to have a long, happy, wonderful life in Argentina with a beautiful woman who dances the tango, and Jacob will be a great man.” She got up on her knees so she could look at his face and continue to stroke his hair as he lay there. “He’ll have children, and his children will have children, and he’ll bring so much happiness to so many people that no one will ever believe that once upon a time in America people said horrible things about him.”

Jacob closed his eyes. “I don’t know if I can go to court tomorrow. I just don’t want to do it anymore.”

“I know, Jake.” I laid my palm on his chest. “It’s almost over.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.”

Laurie: “I don’t think I can do it anymore either.”

“It’ll be over soon. We just have to hang in there. I promise.”

“Dad, you’ll tell me, right? Like you said? If it’s time for me to

…?” He cocked his head toward the door.

I suppose I could have told him the truth. It’s not like that, Jake. There’s nowhere to go. But I didn’t. I said, “It’s not going to happen. We’re going to win.”

“But if.”

“If. Yeah, definitely I’ll tell you, Jacob.” I tousled his hair. “Let’s try to get some sleep.”

Laurie kissed his forehead, and I did the same.

He said, “Maybe you guys’ll come to Buenos Aires too. We can all go.”

“Can we still order from China City there?”

“Sure, Dad.” He grinned. “We’ll fly it in.”

“Okay, then. For a second, I didn’t think it was a realistic plan. Now get some sleep. Another big day tomorrow.”

“Let’s hope not,” he said.

When Laurie and I got into bed, she said in a pillow-talk murmur, “When we were talking about Buenos Aires, that was the first time I’ve felt happy in I don’t know how long. I don’t remember the last time I smiled.”

But her confidence must have faltered, because only a few seconds later, as she lay on her side facing me, she whispered, “What if he went to Buenos Aires and killed someone there?”

“Laurie, he’s not going to Buenos Aires and he’s not going to kill anyone. He didn’t kill anyone here.”

“I’m not so sure.”

“Don’t say that.”

She looked away.

“Laurie?”

“Andy, what if we’re the ones who are wrong? What if he gets off and then, God forbid, he does it again? Don’t we have some responsibility?”

“Laurie, it’s late, you’re exhausted. We’ll have this conversation some other time. For now, you need to stop thinking that way. You’re making yourself crazy.”

“No.” She gave me an imploring look, like I was the one who was not making sense. “Andy, we need to be honest with each other. This is something we need to think about.”

“Why? The trial isn’t over yet. You’re quitting too soon.”

“We need to think about it because he’s our son. He needs our support.”

“Laurie, we’re doing our job. We’re supporting him, we’re helping him get through the trial.”

“Is that our job?”

“Yes! What else is there?”

“What if he needs something else, Andy?”

“There is nothing else. What are you talking about? There’s nothing more we can do. We’re already doing everything humanly possible.”

“Andy, what if he’s guilty?”

“He won’t be.”

Her breathy whispering became intense, pointed. “I don’t mean the verdict. I mean the truth. What if he really is guilty?”

“He isn’t.”

“Andy, is that what you really think? He didn’t do it? Simple as that? You have no doubt at all?”

I did not answer. I could not bear to.

“Andy, I can’t read you anymore. You need to talk to me, you need to tell me. I’m never sure what’s going on inside you anymore.”

“Nothing’s going on inside me,” I said, and the statement felt even truer than I’d intended.

“Andy, sometimes I just want to grab you by the lapels and make you tell the truth.”

“Oh, the thing with my father again.”

“No, it’s not that. I’m talking about Jacob. I need you to be absolutely honest here, for me. I need to know. Even if you don’t, I need to know: do you think Jacob did it?”

“I think there are things a parent should never think about a child.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“Laurie, he’s my son.”

“He’s our son. We’re responsible for him.”

“Exactly. We’re responsible for him. We need to stick with him.” I put my hand on her head, stroked her hair.

She swiped it away. “No! Andy, do you understand what I’m saying to you? If he’s guilty, then we’re guilty too. That’s just the way it is. We’re implicated. We made him-you and me. We created him and we sent him out into the world. And if he really did this-can you handle that? Can you handle that possibility?”

“If I have to.”

“Really, Andy? Could you?”

“Yes. Look, if he’s guilty, if we lose, then we’ll have to face that somehow. I mean, I get that. We’ll still be his parents. You can’t resign from this job.”

“Andy, you are the most infuriating, dishonest man.”

“Why?”

“Because I need you to be here with me right now, and you’re not.”

“I am!”

“No. You’re managing me. You’re talking in platitudes. You’re in there behind those handsome brown eyes and I don’t know what you’re really thinking. I can’t tell.”

I sighed, shook my head. “Sometimes I can’t tell either, Laurie. I don’t know what I’m thinking. I’m trying not to think at all.”

“Andy, please, you have to think. Look inside yourself. You’re his father. You can’t avoid this. Did he do it? It’s a yes-or-no question.”