Kelly grabbed the old Ricoh 35 mm camera her folks had given her years before, and hung the strap around her neck. "Ready?" she said.

"I'm coming," Joe replied. He picked up his backpack and slung it over his shoulder.

As he reached over to switch off the radio, a voice blared, "Astronomers at the Jet Propulsion Laboratory in Pasadena, California, are reporting the discovery of what they are calling, 'The Mirror Ball Meteor'. This is a phenomenon never seen before. The sphere, which is providing brilliant reflections of the sun from its apparently faceted surface, was detected this morning by the Hubbell Space Telescope. It appears to be following a path that. may bring it to the edge of the Earth's atmosphere. A brilliant light show may be in store in a few days. We will update you as details are reported..."

Joe turned it offm droning, "Take me to your leader!"

Kelly laughed. She was in good spirits; it was Saturday, a beautiful fall morning, and they were about to embark on a hike along her favorite trail above Nederland.

She cradled the camera fondly in her hands as they drove up the mountain. It had been a high school graduation gift. It was over ten years old, but she had no intentions of replacing

it. It held great sentimental value to her. It often made her think of home.

As she had expected, in her first therapy session, Sharon had asked her all about her background. What could she say? She had no complaints. Her family had been poor. They were the proverbial salt of the earth. Her father was a big Swede, from a line of hard workers. Dad had grown up in northern Michigan, dividing his time between drilling wells and working repairing machinery in a factory. He'd had very little spare time, having a huge family of eleven children and a wife to support.

Kelly loved her father. She could not adequately describe to Sharon how much. She remembered Sharon asking, "Did your father drink?"

"No," Kelly had said quickly. Then, she had corrected herself. "Well, just beer."

"That's alcohol," Sharon had said quietly, with a little apologetic smile.

Kelly had felt her face grow hot.

She wasn't sure what her background, or her father's beer drinking, had to do with her current problems. She had long since forgiven her mother, and they got along fine now.

Her mother was a shrewish housewife. Part of her bitterness was due to the fact that she had lost one arm in a boating accident during her late twenties. She had never liked children, but had been forced into the bondage thrust upon her by having eleven of them. She had made the kids pay dearly for the loss of her freedom. She had screamed at them constantly, calling them names. Sometimes she had beaten them with a yardstick that hung next to the kitchen door, swinging it in her one remaining hand. It was a bizarre spectacle, but very frightening nonetheless.

She seemed unable to tolerate the presence of young children for any length of time. Kelly remembered that she and her brothers and sisters often were sent outside or upstairs.

She felt sorry for her mother.

She had never mentioned to her folks the problems she and Joe had been having. They were getting older, and she knew that they would just worry. They would be horrified if they knew that he hit her sometimes. They wouldn't understand.

Whenever Kelly called home, she tried to keep the conversation light and upbeat. Her mother always asked the same question:

"When are you getting married?"

The answer was always the same. "I don't know."

Kelly had come to dread the question. It had gotten so that whenever she talked to her mother, her stomach would be in knots until it was asked. Sometimes it came early in the conversation. That was when it was easiest.

Joe didn't push for marriage; not the way her first husband had. Joe didn't seem to care. He had so few goals in life that this aspect didn't surprise her. In fact, it was a relief.

Joe parked the truck in their usual spot along the dirt road and they set off walking up the tree-lined hill. Kelly looked back and thought how odd it was that someone like Joe would enjoy the outdoors. He was a pot head without much ambition, and certainly didn't look like a mountain man. Still, in spite of his protruding gut and heavy build, he had no trouble keeping up with her. It was one aspect of his personality that she truly appreciated; the fact that he was willing to take her hiking, to spend time doing this for her.

She looked around at the towering peaks, all blue and white with snow. They thrust up from the surrounding hills like jagged teeth. The hills were smeared with the rich gold of aspen. Their bright white trunks gleamed against the green pines like silver threads, their golden leaves dancing and falling around them.

Wildflowers, clinging to life this late in the season, dotted the grassy slope they were climbing. Kelly's favorite was the columbine, a white flower with a yellow center and long blue spurs that bloomed during the summer months. The field had been laden with clusters of them, little faces nodding above the green grass. Now only a few withered blossoms remained.

Across the canyon a waterfall crashed to depths unseen. They could hear its roar echo above the breeze.

"It's beautiful!" Kelly said, gasping with the thin air and the climbing effort. Her heart pounded in her chest She stopped near an ancient pine tree to enjoy the view and catch her breath.

"You okay?" Joe asked, pausing to lay a hand on her shoulder.

"Fine, just have to get my second wind."

She knew that she had never been in better shape. There was not an inch of fat on her body, and she could climb all day if she wanted to.

Joe sat down and reached into his back pack He pulled out a plastic bag. "I'm gonna get high." He took out a small square of paper, and shielding it from the wind with his hand, poured a thread of marijuana into the center of it. He rolled it carefully.

"Here, give it a try," he said, lighting it and holding it out to her.

"No thanks." He always offered, and she always refused.

He shrugged. "Have it your way."

As he sat there smoking, she unsnapped the cover from her Ricoh and took the lens cap off. She walked around pointing the camera in different directions, clicking the shutter here and there.

"This is so cool!" she said. "It's like there's a postcard everywhere."

"You make a pretty postcard yourself, Babe," Joe smiled at her.

She smiled and looked back toward town. The hills rolled into a series of watercolor layers, the closest dark blue, the next lighter, and the next even lighter until the white sky came down to meet them.

A thunder of wings exploded in a pine tree near her. She looked up to see a whiskeyjack soar above her head. It circled over her and lit on a branch, fluffing its gray feathers and shaking itself. It looked down at her, cocking its head, and surveyed her with first one eye, then the other.

She turned to Joe. "Hey, get me that bag of trail mix out of your backpack"

"Huh?"

"Oh, forget it!" She walked over and picked up the backpack, fumbling inside. She found the trail mix and picked out some raisins. Walking back toward the tree, she held a raisin high in the air.

The whiskeyjack eyed her suspiciously, then swooped down and, wings fluttering, hovered above her hand momentarily. It snatched the raisin with its beak and was gone.

Kelly shaded her eyes as she watched the bird fly away. A delighted, throaty laugh burst from her, then she turned back toward Joe. "Did you see that?"

Joe was sprawled out on the grass. He stirred, looked up at her and said, "What?"

Later, sitting in the old leather armchair looking out the window toward the lake, she felt the familiar weight of depression settling back into her gut. Again, she wondered vaguely what was wrong with her. "After a beautiful day like this," she thought, "I ought to be satisfied."

She had a momentary impulse to walk outside, go down into the lake, and just keep walking until the cold water swirled over her head. She remembered what Sharon had said, how Kelly had promised to call her if she ever had thoughts like this. Her own Suicide Prevention Hotline. Yeah, right. Still, it was a promise.

She sighed, kicked her shoes oft and said, "Hey, Joe, are you almost done in there? I need to take a shower."

She heard the doorknob rattle. He came out of the bathroom and sat down. "Yeah," he said, rubbing his nose. "Go ahead. It's all yours."

He jumped up from his seat and went to the refrigerator, opened the squeaky door and then closed it again.

"Are you hungry?" she asked.

"Yeah - no - I dunno." He laughed nervously, and rubbed his nose again.

"What's the matter?" she asked.

"Nothing! That's a stupid question. What's the matter with you?"

"Oh, just forget it." She walked into the bathroom and began to take her clothes off. Then she paused a moment, impulsively, searching the room. In one spot beneath the sink, on the tile was a thin film of white powder. She licked her finger and touched the spot. She examined it closely, then opened the medicine cabinet, rummaging picking up a box of Q-tips, she found the mirror.

"Damn!" she whispered. "He told me he doesn't do this any more. Why does he lie to me?"

She took her clothes off and climbed into the tub. The warm water coursing over her body brought comfort. She felt her aching muscles relax. Slowly, remembering the end of the hike that day, with the sun lighting clouds up like hot coals settling over the distant peaks, she began to feel at peace again.

She reached for the shampoo bottle and squeezed some into her hands, inhaling its fragrance. She pulled her hair up and dug her fingers deep into her scalp, enjoying the sensation of the water pouring on the back of her neck

The bathroom door opened. She saw Joe's paunchy figure, distorted through the curtain, bending to pull off his pants. Her stomach knotted up. With an effort, she forced her voice to be sweet. "Joe, honey. Not now okay? I'm really tired. I just want to be alone for awhile."

"Hey!" he said, clambering in beside her. He held up his arms. "How can you resist this body?"

She could not hold back a touch of sarcasm. "Awesome as it is, I really am just not in the mood."

"Okay!" He laughed. "I'll just get cleaned up then!"

He was jovial, friendly. He reached for the soap. She held up a hand.

"Joe, I really just want to be alone. Just let me finish. I'll only be a minute. I just have to rinse my hair."

"So rinse it! What's the problem?"

His stupidity was getting to her. She felt her hold on her emotions slip away. "GET' OUT!"

He took a step, and shoved her. "You get out!"

She slipped, leaning precariously backward. Her feet skidded, squeaking across the tub. She regained her balance, and he pushed her again. She fell back against the cold hard wall, beneath the stream of water. She felt the knobs digging into her back. A wet strip of hair fell across her face, dripping soap. She didn't move, just leaned there, bracing herself.

"I said, get out, Bitch!"

"NO! I won't! I was here first! You're not even wet!"

He grabbed her by the throat and pushed her head back against the wall, reaching up for the nozzle with his other hand. He directed the stream of water toward her head. "You want a shower, you selfish bitch? I'll give you one!"

His grip was constrictive, tightening, choking her. As she struggled to breathe, she felt his other hand reach around behind her for the knob. With two quick twists. he turned off the cold water and let her go as he stepped out of the tub.

A gush of scalding water blasted over her. She scrambled for the edge, but it was too late. She screamed as the water seared across her skin. She slipped, grabbed for the curtain, found it blindly, and pulled herself out.

"You bastard! I hate you!" She fell into a ball on the floor, crying. Joe reached calmly in, turned the cold water back on, and climbed into the tub. He pulled the curtain between them.