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A sudden anger surged through him as he forced his mind back to the rest of the memory, and he remembered what happened when he’d started picking up his drawings.

Up on the stage, his younger self was bending down, reaching out for the scattered papers.

Stepping closer to the stage, Dominic cried out, “Watch it! Don’t let him get to them first … he’s going to tear them up!”

The skinny, dark-haired boy paused, looked out into the darkness of the audience, as though listening. His mother and father had clearly heard nothing, and for a moment seemed to be arrested in time.

BOY

(looking down towards Dominic)

What did you say?

“Dad’s going to tear up your drawings … if you let him,” said Dominic. “So pick them up now, fast. Then tell him what you’re thinking, what you’re feeling.”

BOY

Who are you?

Dominic swallowed hard, forced himself to speak in a clear, calm voice. “You know who I am. …”

BOY

(smiling)

Yeah, I guess I do. …

The boy turned back to the stage and quickly grabbed all his drawings as his father reached down a large hand and tried to snatch them away.

BOY

Nol You leave them alone! You leave me alonel

FATHER

(a bit shocked by the boy’s words)

What’re ya gonna do? Grow up and be a fruitcake?

Whatsamatter with baseball? Too tough on ya?

The boy held the papers to his chest, paused to look out into the darkness at Dominic, then back to his father. The boy was breathing hard, obviously scared, but there was a new strength in the way he stood, staring at his father. He was almost sobbing, but he forced the words to come out clearly.

BOY

Yeah, I like baseball just fine. But I like this stuff, too. And … and, I don’t care if you don’t like it. ‘Cause I dot And that’s what’s important!

The boy ran from the room, carrying his drawings. His father stared after him for a moment, then returned to his newspaper, trying to act unaffected by the small exchange. His mother stood by the table with a beaten, joyless expression on her face.

The stage lights dimmed quickly, fading everything into darkness. Dominic blinked his eyes as the figures of his parents became phantoms in the shadows, growing faint, insubstantial.

Another blink of his eyes and they were gone. Slowly the set began to metamorphose back into the barroom of Nick’s Place.

Dominic’s heart cried out silently, but it was too late. The vision, or whatever it had been, had vanished.

He took an aisle seat, let out a long breath. Rubbing his eyes, he felt the fine patina of sweat on his face. His heartbeats were loud and heavy. What the hell had been going on?

He had been awake, yet he felt as though he had just snapped out of a trance. He felt crazy, but he knew that he was not dreaming, not unless his whole life had been a nightmare.

It had seemed so real. How obvious the dynamics of his family seemed to him now. He wondered why he had never seen what things were really like when he was a kid. But then, maybe he did know back then. …

Children picked up things on a different level than adults.

They hadn’t spent much time building up defense mechanisms and rationalizations for all the shitty things that happen in the world. Kids take everything straight, no chaser. It’s later on we all start bullshitting ourselves.

Dominic stood up and looked about the auditorium as an eerie sensation washed over him. It was as though he was the only person left in the whole world. He felt so totally alone. And he knew that it was time to get away from this place. Try to forget all the pain—isn’t that what life is all about?—not wallow in it.

He walked back to the lobby, slipped through a side door, and then down a long corridor to his office. After turning out the lights, he locked up, headed for the employees’ exit. Just as he reached the fire door, he heard footsteps in the shadows behind him. He whirled quickly and saw a small, hunched-over black man carrying a broom.

“Evenin’, Mr. Kazan …” said the voice.